“Balachandran has taken a conscious decision to ignore the world around him. He seems to write from an ivory tower where he exists in the company of his emotions, his thoughts.”
As I read these lines aloud, P chuckles. ‘That describes you best!’, she exclaims.
In my room, I switch on the PC and look at the screen blankly; before me the cursor blinks in the beginning of a blank Word page, urging me to write.
Reflecting on my hitherto writings, be it poetry or prose, I realize that most of it have been about myself and my immediate world. Am I being Narcissistic? Am I too self-absorbed as to ignore the rest of the world?
Writing, to me, has always been a journey of self-discovery. The ways of the world are no doubt mysterious and fascinating, but equally so has been myself. I am intrigued by what I am, what I think I am, what the rest of the world think what I am and yet the mystery remains unsolved. The writer in me is the observer, studying myself, my reactions, the way I relate to others, the multiple personalities in me that takes the stage as the demand of the role.
Who am I? Says Ramana Maharishi – ‘What remains when you have negated all that you aren’t is the real you’. It is only through this subtractive process of self-analysis that you can understand what you are.
What P believes is not quite right. In trying to understand myself, I learn about the rest of the world too. The more I learn about myself, I learn that there isn’t much difference between myself and the rest; only subtle shades distinguish each of us. In this journey into the recesses of my mind, I am at times ashamed, at times proud; I regret and rejoice. I accept what I am; I accept what you are and all the rest of the world.