Saturday, February 14, 2009

The Search

A post a day keeps... Well, I don't know what all it keeps away, but it can certainly keep me occupied late at nights, now that I have no columns to write and no new book to work on. Post midnight is the time when my mind is most alive and active, when I can't of think of being in any place other than in front of my laptop. So I might as well blog.

But what do I write about? Once you are happily married and have a job that keeps you on your toes, there is no time to let your thoughts ferment and transform into a piece of writing. In the past, I have made even minor incidents, such as discovering a long-lost song, into a full-fledged post. At times when I return to those old posts, I impress myself.

But these days, even if something blogging-worthy happens to me, I tell myself, "Fuck it, why bother?" For example, I was determined to write a lengthy post, with pictures and all, about my visit to the Dakshineshwar temple in Calcutta. This is one of the few places that bring me calm, especially the sight of the 12 Shiva temples in a row, silhouetted against the serenely flowing Ganga. The place pricks the balloon inside you and yet at the same time fortifies you with spiritual strength.

I wanted to write about the trip because it almost didn't happen. For two days that I was there, it rained heavily, as if the rain gods were taking a revenge on Calcutta. Miraculously, on the morning of my departure, the rain stopped and the sun shone. And when I made it to Dakshineshwar, I was one of the few visitors there. The place was so deserted that you could idle at the feet of Goddess Kali without the worry of being pushed out by guards who otherwise don't let you linger there beyond a few seconds. And imagine this was Diwali-eve, just hours before Kali Puja.

Why did the rain have to stop precisely that morning? Had it lasted for two more hours, I would have abandoned my last hopes of making it to Dakshineshwar. Was it just a coincidence, or a miracle orchestrated by faith? I will never know, but I would choose to believe the latter. There are miracles, and there are miracles. Most of them are coincidences. But there are instances when, say, you rush home to visit your ailing parent. But there are no seats on the plane. You give up hope, but not your faith that you will make it. Suddenly, there is a cancellation and you are in. If you look around, you will find quite a few real-life instances like this. These are nothing but real miracles, because they are so perfectly-timed that only someone up there can orchestrate them. To call them a coincidence is either ignorance or arrogance. There is God. But he is not there to take of care of your greed. He will be there, however, when you are in real need. Real is the operative word here.

Coming back to the point. I was all charged up about writing about this trip, but the moment I reached Chennai, my enthusiasm drained out. I found telling myself, "This is something personal, why should the reader be interested in your brush with miracles? Just drop it." So I let it be. There have been times when I have almost finished a post but in the last minute abandoned the idea of publishing it. As a result of which, there are at least a dozen posts waiting in the 'draft' form -- I did not have the mind to publish them, but at the same time did not have the heart to delete them simply because a couple of hours and a couple of drinks had been invested on them.

But now I realise, rather re-realise, that this blog is my personal space. It's a diary, a tool for introspection, a medium to tell the world that I too have a mind -- a mind that is alive. In short, this blog is my true identity. It was criminal on my part to have neglected it for so long, and now I realise how much I have been out of touch with my own self. It's been ages that I wrote about R.D. Burman or Kishore Kumar, which means I have been indifferent to them all this while, which in turn means I have not been my own self at all. Really, what the fuck has been happening?

So from now on, one post a day. But what do I write about? It's simple: Monday: Sex. Tuesday: Spiritualism. Wednesday: Kishore Kumar. Thursday: Women and relatonships. Friday: R.D. Burman. Saturday: Yoga. Sunday: Nothing, just take a break.

I only wish if it were that simple. I can only write about life. And life can be very lonely, no matter who you are or where you are. We are all lonely souls, soldiering on in search of that missing link. Life would be so rich if we find that link, but we don't even know what that link is, leave alone knowing where to find it. This blog will celebrate The Search.

If I ever made a movie, I would end it with the words, The Search. Because there is no 'The End'. One ending is the beginning of another search. And thus life goes on. Happy Valentine's Day, dear reader.


AK said...

Well, looks like ,I am the first fortunate reader who wishes to complement this piece of writing..
The idea of a blog as personal diary of introspection ,appealed to me greatly and now I have an added wish in my wishlist to begin "writing" . I got inspired by every bit of it. The real miracles..The Search...

Happy Valentine's Day to you too , dear!

Anonymous said...

Wow! Thats just brilliant.....

shruti said...

thanks to that renewed interest in blogging,looking ahead to a post every day.reminds me of how i would wait to get my hands on the sunday paper to read your column!welcome back bishi you still have a lot of faithful readers out here.

Anonymous said...

i would look forward to the 'Sunday Post' tho!!
coz the others are too predictable.. do miracles really happen?

Anonymous said...

I carved my dreams on the sands by the placid ocean many a moons ago
And watched as the waves devoured my words
Never since have I written on paper a word that I truly meant from the heart
Nor have I cared for the stranger's need to inseminate my words with his world.