A post everyday. It seems obsessive. But I think this is a good way to build discipline. Otherwise I will put off writing until I strike inspiration. Which is what I do and the damn inspiration nowadays has been a rarity. But in irreverence lies inspiration, as they say. For instance, I am conscious that this post is better suited on the my other site – The Fourth Seat. But I want to keep the two separate. The more well thought out pieces, the one which sit in drafts for months together deserve to be hosted there.
Anyway, apart from crafting prose, there is so much to talk about these days. Though, I have now begun to choose silence. Last week I attended the Kala Ghoda Arts Festival and I found myself going quiet in the company of others. There was joy in silence. I am not sure what was the source of that joy. Maybe it was because I was keen on listening to something other than my own voice. Or maybe it was because I was tired of listening to the voices in my head.
And staying silent while my companions spoke was a good distraction from the wailing monster within. I am obviously exaggerating now. But it is my post and it is here that I can do whatever I want. So bear with me, or don’t. I am here to play with words or even better, to dance with them. They don’t mind. They have a mind of their own I say to myself as I hammer away at my keyboard. Something I have done all day today, and yet there is a bit more to be done. Sitting erect in front of a screen and simply typing is a privilege. Especially if the text is not intended to anyone in particular. You see, when you write a blogpost, you don’t worry if the post finds the reader well and of course, there is nothing discussed before so you can start afresh.
It is strange why people read blog posts. The ones who write them are crazy, of course. But the ones who read them are crazier, I feel. Honestly. Because is there any meaning in reading the irreverence that a person sitting in a small Bombay house publishes on the internet? I don’t think so, but I am glad you don’t think like I do. I always read blog posts, and often I miss the olden times. Where everyone had a blog with poorly written prose and badly composed poems. It was still a good form of expression. And even if we all were and some of us, like yours truly, still are – poor at expressing ourselves, we revelled in the act of expression. It’s just that nowadays expression comes in form of silence.
I have been told a few times that the only reason I stay so stoic with things is because I tend to intellectualise all problems. There is very little room for emotion. How I feel about a problem is irrelevant as long as I am able to establish the root cause and the way forward. This clinical approach to life makes you very cold, I agree. However, in due time I have also come to realise that feeling certain things do help but only to a certain extent. Nobody is coming for you, like Harry Potter saves himself by conjuring up that patronus against the Dementors, it is only you who needs to pick up the pieces and put it all together. Except that there is no time turner, just a broken heart and an iron will to live.
So back to a post a day. After renewing the domain name for the 3rd year in a row – I am going to consistently invest a small amount of time on this corner of the internet, which is truly mine, or so I’d like to think. Maybe to express better, maybe to build the muscle for writing. A little everyday. James Clear calls them Atomic Habits, maybe atomic changes is what I need to free the monster within.