In 1977, fresh out of college, hesitating whether to go for PG or get a job, jobless, loveless, a 20-year old boy roamed the streets of
Perhaps, unconsciously, I have been writing a kind of commentary on my life, be it in poem or prose. It is not a celebrated life; just a man-in-the-street. But I believe I have tried to glean some insight, some understanding of things beyond the mundane. Blame it on my melancholia, most of what I have written, in retrospect, seems to be depressing! But there have not been any fear; just a kind of weariness about life.
Yesterday, I received the following comment from ‘Mike’ in my poem, ‘The Whiteout’. Mike, I understand is a real estate agent in the
I have read everything up to this point. Regretfully, I take nothing away. I do not cast aspersions in a heedless way; rather, I wish to say your heart needs to be glad, not sad. You take the world too seriously (or at least this is my perception). Live for the day. Love those near to you like there will be no tomorrow. Drop your baseless fears, endless searching. There is more to every day life. Here are a few words... on Fulfillment: In from the incoming ocean and over the island floor, the tide rises in slow motion, covering more and more, reef and lagoon and shore.~~ Finally reaching its fullest, what is its logic then? To cling to the heights at its tallest and curse fate, as would men, that it must come down again? ~~ The tide fulfilled I am learning is in its forever returning. Here is its bond with the beach. Here is the truth beyond speech. (end) Please write of the things which bring every day joy to your heart and life.
Yes, Mike has been quite kind, short of saying you are a big bore! I replied that I can write only what I feel like writing; if I feel happy and feel like writing about it, I will. But the general state of mind is just the opposite, can’t help it. But, I said, there have been a few moments of happiness too. I felt what Mike said is true, I have been quite morbid, like a sick dog.
That set me wondering – are we bloggers writing what we want to write or what readers expect us to write? Are we trying to impress our readers, are we being honest in our writing? How can I write, like Mike asks me to, of contrived happiness? What are we, friends, doing here? Why do I, every day look up my dashboard for the new postings of my friends? When Sujata writes about Pujo or her life in Muscat or about her children – when Kalpana writes in length about baby care, when Sumi bubbles with joy, when Gopu writes about the unseen life behind the surgical masks – I am sharing your lives, your joys, your sorrows, your angst ( there I go again!) just as I share mine with you.
If, like Mike, you have not taken anything away, that will be a sad day for me. If, my writings have been as drab as my life, what can I say, - hope sun is shining out there!