Skip to main content

Why Write?

Live in the moment. Scriptures,philosophers,gurus across the world recommend the live- in- the -moment approach to life. 

It sounds easy. Then, why is it tough to mitigate the past, to survive the present, and moreover, continue to hope for a better future. Why is it tempting to despair? To give up is easy; to let go is difficult. 

They say one cannot hold on to the past. It slips through,like sand. Does it really? For, in comes the tide; a tidal wave full of emotions. Sand won't slip off now. Neither can we undo our past, nor can relive the good old days. We write because we wish to cherish,to protect,to reconnect with what has gone by. 

Equally enticing is the future. Full of fantasy and glamour. An illusion that would soon become an overwhelming present. We write so that one day our dreams might become a reality. Writing will give them a  semblance of reality;of life; of truth. It is written. It must be true. It should happen. It must happen.

We write to contain the power of time; to unravel the mysteries of life and to explore the enigma that surrounds our existence. 


Comments

  1. Okay, although this was heavy, it was very much familiar ground with respect to you. You sound like Conrad of course. One of your moments, I guess. :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. yes. one of those moments..purple moods ..conrad has become a part of my being..can never flush out of my system..:D

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Paus

किती वाट पाहिली तुझी? वाटले, येतोस की नाही.आकाशात ढग दाटले की चाहूल लागते तुझी.मंद गार वारा आणि त्यावर स्वार होऊन येतात त्या धारा. कधी शांत ,अबोध रिमझिम तर कधी दमदार बरसात, तर कधी गंभीर संततधार अशी अनेक रुपं तुझी! कधी थोडा विसावा धेतलास, तर आसमंतात शांतता पसरते. लहानपणी छप्परावर नाचणारा तू, आजही साद घालतोस.छोट्या छोट्या कागदी होड्या बनवून त्या साचलेल्या डबक्यात सोडायच्या. बुडणार त्या हे माहिती असायचे , पण त्यांच्या क्षणभर तरंगण्याचा केवढा आनंद वाटत असे. तुझे स्वागत आईनं केलेल्या भजीने व्हायचे. त्या अल्लड वयात तुझ्या तुषारांचा रोमांच! उफाळून आलेला समुद्र आणि मेघांनी मोहरलेले डोंगर ! कधी अचानक दिसलेले इंद्रधनुष.सगळे अद्भुत. प्रणयाच्या क्षणांना तुझ्या संगीताची साथ! तुझ्या धास्तीने लोकलचा केलेला प्रवास आणि कितीही पैसे मोजून घराकडे घेतलेली धाव,मग  आलं घालून चहा आणि सगळ्यांची विचारपूस. तुझ्या बरोबरीचे अस्थानी पराक्रम आणि तद्नंतर मिळालेला  औषधांचा खुराक,हे कधी चुकले नाही . घरी एकटेच असताना ,तू सोबत करतोस की कुठल्या अनामिक भीतीला निमंत्रण देतोस, हे कळलेच नाही . जितका अल्लहाददाय...

First rains!

As the bell went off, she picked up her pre-packed satchel and raced to the gate. She wanted to be the first one to step out. It was the first drizzle of the season. Thrilled by the chill, she merrily opened her blue umbrella with bright pink flowers (mocked by her all-grownup - sister as a "childish and too girlie" choice !). She did not care. She loved the rains. The puzzling puddles and funny faces that one can see in them! The ripples set off by cars as they whoosh past her and the joy of taking the umbrella off one's head, staring at the sky while still keeping your eyes open was incomparable. At times, clutching your umbrella tightly, lest it would fly away with the wind. She loved to watch drops trickle down from the umbrella, to stick hand out from umbrella and splash the water on puppies and kittens and steal a quick glance to look out for any discipline-conscious adults around you. All this was fun! As she head home she thought of all these joys and also of the...

To Friendship!

Thank you for being: My friend My guide My confidante My colleague My student  Thanks for :  stealthily making lemon juice at midnight  coming on long bicycle rides on the IITB campus  taking classical music lessons with me  making me read and forcing me to write  bumping into me at Strand  fixing train timings and screwing them, too  motivating me to attend Sanskrit lectures discussing "Tom Joad" with me learning French and tolerating my dismal linguistic skills translating "tum se hi" singing "Tere haath mein" from Fanaa listening to the endless drone that are my lectures sharing my Kafka and Sheldon Cooper obsession becoming the victims for my culinary experiments sharing a samosa paav with me losing your mind over Paradise Lost parsing sentences scanning poetry looking for SPOCA and glides calling Gus a scoundrel and taking that as a  complement sharing a silly chain with me doin...