Why does He Want to Continue Writing?

 

Well, very small mundane facts define him. He continues writing with the intention of adding a bit bigger facts to define him. He writes not with the intention to outwit others claim to similar bit more bigger facts. Self justification is one of the easiest things coming to our nature. We justify even the worst of our deeds. He writes to justify the inherent tendency in him to survive as a professional writer. Not that he cannot do something else to earn his bread and butter. He definitely can. And he is doing in fact. But you know there is a piously whispering cooing of the real self that eggs him on to still keep trying to give his writing a platform.

 

Coming from that part of the north Indian countryside, where literature will be the last thing on anybody’s mind, where agriculture is the culture itself, he is the black sheep that is trying to get out of the herd to make this most unlikely career for anybody coming from the Jat land, or synonymously the buffalo land. Well on the down slope of youth, more than once he has abandoned the dream of full time writing. Many a time he has realised his limitations as a writer. Still many more times he has felt himself a victim of the forces beyond his control. Today when he gets up to try again to get a slippery foothold, he can very well hear the anticipating applauding whispering of the inherent voice again.

 

He fought for the most prestigious civil services positions in India. Fought decently well also, given his limitations and more importantly the literary limitations of the socio-cultural unit he comes from. The harder he worked, the more distant became the goals. He saw the worst of politico-bureaucratic-judicial game. When he finally fell his inner voice told him, it is more on account of the system’s failure than his own. So he has little sips of justice in the form of the inner thumbs-up by his soul.

 

Every time he fell, deeper were the analytical impressions on the neurons of his brain; graver were the bruises on his heart. If nothing more, it gave him the mood and inclination to write. Still he is fighting for his take away. His reward! He does not want it at the cost of somebody more deserving. He is not into comparison. We can compare just simple tangibles. How can we compare life’s thousand catapults that all of us get uniquely, single-handedly?

 

He is not taking writing in life as a competition, but as a fate’s lottery pot, wherein somebody will walk out with a smile. Having full faith in the fates’ evaluation, if he builds a platform to support his writing, he would also prefer to walk away with a broad smile!

 

Wishing him and others best of luck!