All crazy decisions in life have deep-seeded roots in some inorganic events.
Mine was the Lumbini Park blasts that rocked the Hyderabad city. It was days of grief: looking from the window of my bus, the next day, and imagining fumes; imagining the people who came for a visit and met a tragic end at the park; imagining the people who went to have chat at gokul. Dreams paused. Life terminated.
But life moves on…
but somewhere I paused in my life and wondered what do I do what all this pent up anger? I was only a student then. In the orkut days, blogger.com was popular. WordPress was too hifi. And I hopped onto the blogger site, created a blog name, and with the clanking of the keyboard, I paved way for my anger. Soon, I began seeing fumes of various atrocities. They resulted in many blogposts and soon followed by poems, and much later by stories. And then there was a mamoth change: I changed my career path. I became a Journalist then dived into the lake of publishing. Through my tumultous ride, my blog was my handkerchief. The perspiring fear, the joys of life, my own experiments in writing, was soaked in its pages.
There came a time, when I was concerned about my blog rank etc..for a brief while but then I realized i wasn’t cut out for it. I began archiving my articles and my own thoughts, like a self absorbed bard. Perhaps I was wrong. Maybe I was right. I don’t know. But, I spent a lot of time changing the blogger themes. Sometimes spending nights, like I was remodeling my house. I invited friends to share their views. I created more blogs, I became a part of many blogs. Blog was my Lego toys and I felt building more meant more fun. But I got exhausted as I couldnt maintain all of them.
Through all these blogging exercises and many blogger meets, I met people whose path I wouldn’t have crossed otherwise: some became my pals, my confidantes too. Naming only a few of them wouldn’t be fair. So to everyone who met me through blogs, a virtual hug. But most importantly, I met myself. I never realized there was an ocean of thoughts running within me and with each post, the tides only grew massive.
The past nine years have been I-don’t-know-what-to-say for me. I have risen, fallen, fallen flat on my face, broken my nose, rose up to my knees again and then fallen and sometimes I just pretend like I’ve risen but I know, the end will be a mountain of lessons. I only hope that my blog continues to breathe wherever I drag it to. I have learnt that when you set out to do what you love, you may not achieve what you think you will, for years or for decades but choosing what you love is the best thing a human can do. You meet many copassengers, who are like you: weird, stupid; weird-err, stupid-err. But it all makes it worth it when you look back, fondly.
Happy nine years!Categories: 101 things I like