Wisdom in one column

Life as a writer is all about being read. Your genre and style of writing seems to form coherence when you actually see it responded to. As an aspiring writer of sorts, if there was one passion I always treasured it was seeing my name in print. At the time when the words 'Computer' and 'Internet' were unheard of I would fill thousands of pages with my thoughts. It ranged from silly narrations to presumptuous social commentary about the world around me. I always liked the idea of being called a ‘prodigy’ since somehow riding on that elephant waving at millions of live audience on Republic Day seemed like the ultimate goal in life. I would spend most of my Sundays buried writing everything from the greatest incomplete novel to the shortest short story.

Early teens became late 20s as my lifestyle changed with the invasion of technology. From the humble bound pages of ‘Vidya’ notebook I went on to an HP Notebook. I went from refilling my ink pen to connecting my mouse into the laptop. I had managed to retain the writing but somehow managed to forget the source it came from. Nevertheless the writer in me lived on. My writing matured with time as I realized usage of complex words randomly in stories did not indicate style and sophistication. I had to keep it simple and natural. Perhaps this was the only way the writer in me would be satisfied to an extent.

Hunger to let others know about what I think increased like the crescendo of morning traffic in India. My words found way into the web pages on the Internet. My thoughts now had a medium to broadcast themselves with. But was anyone listening? The written word needed context else I felt like I was talking to myself. This was no fun since I knew I would agree with myself. So the next stop was ensuring it was strategically placed at a spot where others would pass by. Some stopped, looked, read, shrugged and moved on. Others stopped, looked, read, wondered, responded and moved on. Others returned and still do.

The greatest achievement came to me when I was published in a leading newspaper in India – Deccan Herald for the first time. My joy knew no bounds that day. Despite the fact that the article would be old and forgotten in 24 hours I still held on to this timeless gift.

The writer in me now yearns for a column of my own that will hopefully come to me some day. A real estate with my photograph smiling back at the reader with a hint of pride and a pinch of wisdom.

The hunger for words is the worst kind as I package all this wisdom into one column each day.

--ShaKri