Why do I write?

18 09 2007

Many times,I asked myself, heck Soham why do you write? People don’t read them, they just visit the About Me page, find it is obtusely boring and excruciatingly philosophical and return back to the place where they came from. I again asked, -Even when you were young, you used to write verses, which tried to rhyme hard, on pages of hidden diaries and forget their existence forever.

Those diaries rose only to make me laugh. They rose from god-knows-where. Some years later it would rise from behind the rack of old memories and fading tastes to remind me one question. Heck why do I write? Even I dont read them. Years later, I used to find them absolutely hilarious. And then again secretly hiding it away from my consciousness. I thought, and I thought.For a long time I thought this and then I thought some more. And finally asked Ritika what she thought about this.

Soham: “Yaar, Ritika why do I write such nonsense?”

Ritika: “Hain???”

Soham: “I mean, why do I write these things on my blog?”

Ritika: “They are not useless Soham, they are reflections of your thoughts”

Soham: “Reflections of my thoughts???Great words b’ful, but I dont think in verses,neither my verses rhyme”

Ritika: “Yes, in that way they are more valuable than that, they are thoughts mingled with wisdom, baby they are not useless”

Soham: “You make me look philosophical old man,Riks”

Ritika: 🙂

Soham: “But why do I write”

Ritika: “For your joy”

Soham: “Joy??”

Ritika went away.

I thought what she said, I did think what she said was right. I don’t know how much value, literary or otherwise my thoughts have, but I think she is right. I enjoy ,when they reflect what I really wanted to say, and I read them when they invite me to read them. So the invitation part may be my word play(which is non-existent), graphic depiction(towards which strangely girls have shown fantastic leanings) or may be plain simple words which sometime is hard hitting. When this combo comes up, I derive joy plain and simple. I feel like its a job well done. I like the feeling of being on a high. Yes thats it. When I was small, I wanted to write poems and the only poems which I read, had fantastic rhythm and alliterations to it(Jack and Jill, Dinkar’s poems, etc). So in my bid to “write” real poetry I didnt ask myself what I thought and wrote what I wanted to see. Things like

This is life,life is so nice
but as sharp as knife
its also sweet as hive
this is life

came out of my pencil into my diaries. I guess I was barely seven. I tried to imitate somebody and that person was not me. So I never felt that first joy of a thing of beauty. And I never realized. As time flew, I grew and so did my thoughts with me. I think thats why I write. Because they helped me to grow.

 

 

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