It's Thanksgivings time in America. Like every year on this day I take the opportunity to thank all my friends for taking pain to patiently to go through my my blogs. As far as possible I try to inform you, amuse you by playing the role of a raconteur and occasionally irritate you. But I love you all. Your comments and "Likes", all good, bad and ugly keep me going.
Facebook taught me writing. Ever since I discovered my blogging skill a decade or so ago, never in my wildest of dreams ever I imagined coming this far. From a few lines of scrolls in the beginning to a wide variety of thoughts kept flowing like streams, merging and taking the shape of a larger river on social media, I have taken a long road. A decent number of kudos started trickling in, motivated me to pen more and more. Like women and fire who never say enough, I say never enough to writing as I haven't stopped penning ever since.
Soon compliments started pouring in. Many of them from unknowns who admit (some grudgingly) of enjoying my writing. One went further, "even if you write junk, don't know why, I still make it a point to read it. You have converted bullshit into a form of art." I took it as a compliment. It's not easy to sell bullshit.
I thrive to be a raconteur of human foibles. Folks love spicy stuff, be it food or writing. I readily oblige them. People may give long speeches about the health and nutritional values of the Odia dish SANTULA (a boiled mix veg dish) and DALMA (a dish of boiled Dal & Veggies). But in reality they cherish spicy chilli chicken or mutton curry. Human character is full of contradictions. I cater to the taste of my audience, unabashdly dishing out spicy stuff.
It feels flattered when on occasions folks I barely know walk towards me to compliment on my writing. It's no doubt a very pleasing experience to know that there is a silent majority out there who love reading my posts. Some who never put a "like" or comment on my posts, surprise me by doing the same verbally. Writing as an art I discovered fairly late in my life. Sometimes I secretly wish that Facebook was there when I was young and single.
Occasionally few solicit my advice to improve their writing ability (anyway I don't consider myself of having any great writing skill). I get pleasantly shocked by the heroic adulation from many having done nothing heroic other than posting tons of crap on my Facebook wall. My answer to them - there is no magic or silver bullet on writing. Like any creative skill if it's inside you, one day it will burst open like a dam unable to control the surging water. So just go ahead, pen your thoughts and let it take its own shape.
Some even suggested me to chose writing as a professional career. It is a great creative outlet and escape from the daily drudgery in life, accompanied by a sense of pleasure and fulfillment. I don't have an iota of doubt about it. Hence I plan to keep penning my thoughts till I go over the hills.
But writing as a profession? I don't think it is a pragmatic path to chose at this stage in my life. There is an immense sense of satisfaction as a writer, but frankly there is no money in this line. No offence to their professions, even the PAANA and MADA DOKANIs (betel and liquor shop owners), petty DALAALs (brokers) make more money than writers these days. Sad, but it is the reality of our time.
My current profession does not pay me a whole lot, but pays my bills - with a few additional safety net of some post retirement benefits. A la the electrical main switch of a house, it keeps my home lighted, warm and fuzzy during winter and keeps a roof above my head for rainy days. Everything else falls in place and would stop the moment the main switch gets turned off. So at most I will keep writing as a hobby, with a book or collection of articles down the road.
Having bored you to death with this long monologue, wish you all a HAPPY THANKSGIVING. Happy Turkey gobble day. Stay safe. Enjoy the occasion with family and friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment