For Now We'll Make A Vow

Many writers and creative artists go through period of self doubt and uncertainty, where they are not sure if what they do is of any value in the larger scheme of things, or even in the relatively smaller arena of craftsmanship or social chitter chatter. In my case, that has been the dominating feeling about almost everything I have turned to. There have been multiple periods of my life where I have totally turned away from the pursuits that my muse led me towards, often with self destructive and self defeating loathing and anger. Hold that thought.

All of these periods have yielded to mornings when the birdcalls have convinced me that there is a message in everything, that the call of the divine is often misheard, that to give up is to betray the cause. What that cause is is another question altogether, since my mission seems to be to rail against all that is popularly perceived as fair, pleasurable, right, and perhaps even noble. With the gusto of a long abstinence joyfully broken, I tilt at the windmills again, firm in my conviction that if we did not choose simplicity, time would force it upon us, that commerce needs us to be blind to the consequences of our actions, and that Marcus Aurelius any day outlives Mark Zuckerberg.


So here I am again, wondering if I have anything of value to share with you Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. My vanity does not take much convincing, but my gut worries about the consequences of being truthful about what you feel in the times we live in today. I strongly believe that events like the Babri Masjid Ram Janmabhoomi, the 9/11 attacks, or the Las Vegas shootings are not about religious beliefs, economics, or gun control. I believe they all arise from a fundamental alienation from the principles of natural living. I am no Dabholkar, Pansare, Kalburgi or Lankesh. I do not come from the pain or conviction that the journalists of Raqqa is Being Silently Slaughtered came from. I like my life and the fact that I am alive. In other words, I am a coward - rational maybe, but a coward all the same.



So I take the route of speaking about smelling the coffee and what to do with your time while you wait for the world to change. I paint doors and nightscapes and mandalas that speak to the basic urges of procreation and preservation. I write about cheap ways to feel rich and the dilemmas of being a writer. I leave the more important tasks to those with balls. Hold that.

It is not like I feel I do not have something of importance to say - that too with the regularity of peristalsis. It is just that I need you to make as much effort to access it as I make to put it out. I also believe that your attention and my time are of immense value. I am happy for those who come across my work and quickly decide their time is not worth it - I am yet to start writing for them.

So what's for breakfast? Well, health to start with - health as in wholeness, the root of the word.  Health that embraces the entire gamut of our being - body, mind, spirit and soul. Health at an individual, personal level, and health as a collective endeavor (population health made simple), as families, communities, nations, and as a race. Stuff like mental illness, bigotry, ignorance, jealousy, responsibility. Maybe even stuff like religion, morality, ethics, humanity. Hold.

I have asked myself this question so many times, many more times than I have hovered over the publish button in the last 12 years. Would you be interested? Would anyone be interested? The reason I have gone ahead and clicked the publish button every time is that at the end of the day, all we do is ultimately about being true to ourselves. Everyone has options, and choices come with consequences. I choose mine to be at peace with myself.

2 comments:

  1. Very well articulated. I hear you and can empathize.

    ReplyDelete

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