Last year on this day when I started this blog, I did not anticipate that I would keep at it. I know I can last long, but to stay the course on a fairly regular basis was not something I thought I would do.
Blogs mean different things to different people and some have their work cut out for them. I admire such single-mindedness; it is not something I can follow. Cross connections is just whatever comes to my mind -- I think modesty is an over-rated virtue because most modest people go around flaunting their modesty. That itself ceases to make it a virtue.
So, this is about me and mine. I muse, I crib, I laugh, I cry, I throw a fit, I walk, I run, I sleep, I shit, I crave, I abstain, I love, I leave, I hit, I hurt, I strip, I cover myself with a gauze sheet…and some of you have journeyed along, sometimes watching with amusement, sometimes with empathy and almost always with decorum. When I recently wrote about a couple of extremely personal moments, I could feel your silence more than your words.
For one who is unashamedly a political animal, I do get surprised when my internal monologues seem to strike a chord. This happened even when I wrote my journal on the website where my political articles appeared. Those who got in touch were brutally honest: “Is this really you?” or, “We cannot agree or even understand your political views, but your logs are…well, they could be about us…”
While a comment like this ought to make me feel good, I should hope people’s lives are certainly not like mine! I suppose there are deep connections that cleave through the bone and reach the marrow.
I have made a few friends and, surprising as it may seem, this group includes academics who have nothing to do with the subcontinent and a desi mind, and very little with my let-my-emotions-hang-on-my-sleeves style. I am too scared to probe the reasons, for often when we try and prod too much and keep poking the soil we end up killing the undergrowth.
From the, “It is after years I have felt something like me and it is frightening” and “I feel so helpless, I can’t even hate you” remarks that reach my mailbox to the person who set up a blog only to post a comment here to mislead me, it has been more than I imagined.
I must thank those who pointed out the flaws in my earlier font, colour, and choice of photograph…
There has been one rather strange but interesting allegation about the current picture: “You are being a tease!” At one level, perhaps. But for me the play of light and shadow is what people are all about…if it seems enigmatic, then so be it.
Some have wanted to know about the ‘very short conversations’ I put up. Are they for real? Indeed, they are. They could be abrupt, sharp, probing or just stream of consciousness, but they have taken place. If at all there is any creative licence I have taken it is probably just to chop off the pauses!
I do hope to enter this new phase with mostly the same old ways. I did try out a few other templates, but then I wanted to change the font colour too – and you know how many entries I have! So, for those who like old wine and old bottles, let us continue to share a drop or two…