Writing

I get a bit angry when people comment negatively on my writing. I know I don't have the best writing style in the world, but that's alright. I don't need to. Don't get me wrong now, I like criticism, and I take it very well. I'm happy to be told what exactly is wrong with my writing. A long time ago, a very senior journo, and a very good writer, when he wanted me to move from a newspaper to telly said, "I've seen your writing. You're good, but you're never going to be a bestseller. So come to TV." I didn't go immediately, but I did, a year later."

It's happened a few times, when people will say, "you're not really the greatest writer around, you know." I didn't really ask for your opinion, and I'm not going to take your advice. I'll take it after you've won a pulitzer or something.

When it comes to a macro estimation of my writing ability, I prefer notes like an ex sent me. I think she pretty much hates me, but this is what she said, only a few days ago, with me asking for it.

"I think u have what it takes to be a good writer: a beard, sexiness, occasional meanness, occasional cynicism, hedonism, love for nature and all things beautiful, a slight melancholic bent and a good use of language and rhetoric."

So, screw you if you don't think i'll be great.

Doobie doobie doo...

Doobie doobie doo.

“There are none so old as those who have lost the enthusiasm for life.” Or so said thoreau.

Enthusiasm for life is difficult these days. I look around me, and what do I see? I see people, living like ants. With ants in their pants. Ants with ants in their pants.

I look around me, and people’s lives have become about going to work, to do a job they don’t really understand, to sell things they don’t really understand to people who they’ll never really understand. People like them.

You get up in the morninging. Brush your teeth. Take a dump. Drop your kidds off at the water park. Wash your bum (or wipe if you’re a whitey). Then you eat a breaky, or not. Who gives a shit. Works more important. Then you rush. To school, to work, to earn your daily bread. Who gives a shit if you trespass against your fellow men for the bread. You drink like, 30 cups of coffee at work, cos its free you know, and free stuff is good. (it keeps you quite quiet like they say. So what if your job sucks and your boss is a bitch... at least you got free coffee) Then you come back, adn you watch telly. Something about a bombing in iraq, or maoists in bengal or rakshi sawant selling her body and sole for a swaymwar.

Then you kiss your significant other goodnigt and you go to sleep. And then you do it again, the next day, over and ficking over. You know that you’re doing it over and over, and you know that its going to tap the sap from your soul, but you do it, cos you know you’ll get promotoed. You’ll get 10k more next year, and you’ll get the corner office one day. And who gives a shit if you become fat and tired and impotent.

So, where’s the enthusiasm for life? A twenty day holiday maybe... that’ll raise your enthusiasm levels for a while. Strengthen you, so you can have the courage to go back to the rat race.

Everyone is like that. Sometimes, it feels like we’ve forgotten to dream. And those of us who do dream... what do we dream of... fame... fortune... money... an lcd telly...

We;re like little ants. Except we’re not so little. Our goal is to feed the big machine.

What happened to sucking the joy out of every moment. And feeling excited about the moments that are to come, even if you don’t know what they bring. To facing life head on, and riding it, like a wave. Or have we become too old for that.

I felt it today, i felt the enthusiasm. I felt it like a rush. It came like a whirlwind, and took me up in it. All of a sudden, my soul was swept along, and waking dreams came to me, rushing at me, pommeling me, filling me with all kinds of happy emotions that I’d lost. I began to plot and plan, and the plots and plans werent real, tey were just designs, on how I would feel the world and take it all in and drink it like a drink churned from the sea. Woo hoo. I got all hubbllybubbly and i felt like I was higher than the ground.

Here’s when it happened. When driving in a bus, seat numer 15, window, from ranchi to tatanagar. Passed through a forest that I forgot the name of, but all of a sudden, i could see large green mountains. Filled with trees. They were everywhere. The moutnains big. Isolated from each other, not like the ones at home, and not like the himalays. They were jst standing there, facing each other, all shoulder to shoulder.

Mountains do it for me. They brought out this enthusiams from within me, and I suddenly wished I were walking amongs the trees. I wished I were tripping on the roots, and my boots sinking into the mud. I dreamt of putting up a hammock and spending the night there, with the animals for company. I couldn;t of course, so i dreamt it all.

And I thought of the himalayas. And how i would be there and soak them into every pore in my body, and fill my breath with himalayan air.

And then they ended, the moutnains. And then I saw people again. Cycling from work, riding home from scool, doing what they must, in place of doing what they should.

And the enthusiasm began to ebb... i could feel it. But i reaced in put a little dam, and stopped it from going further... the elation gave way... but the seeds remain. Life must be lived. And life must be loved.

Taking breaks.

When i'm traveling, I like going to unexplored, difficult places. I'm not interested in going to tourist spots like Khajuraho or hampi. I want to go where I don't know anybody, and everyone is strange to me. I want to go to difficult places and learn about people.

But, I also want to go where my friends are, where I can meet people like me. One of the places I did that is Hyderabad.

So my traveling seems to have worked itself into this rythm. I first go to a place where I can learn, research and challenge myself. Then, I go to a place where I can kick back, enjoy and have be with friends.

I lived and worked there for a year, and it was easily the best time I had. I had a bunch of friends from all over the world, working all kinds of jobs. I knew that every time I went out with them, I was guaranteed to have a good time. I never remember not having fun. I also remember good conversation, and my friends were there for me when I needed them.

Which is why I spent two weeks in hyderabad.

Unfortunately, whenever you go back to a p lace, you find that things have changed. Nothing remains the same, of course, but you exect it to be the same at least. The group I know doesn't hang out at B'n'C anymore. It goes to Firefly and some fancy nightclub in a fancy hotel (the names of both i've forgotten). I realise I don't like clubs so much. THey're too big, and filled with people trying to be nice-looking and the atmosphere's negative and the drinks are too expensive.

What I did enjoy was BNO, or Boy's Night Out. This is just a collection of dudes getting together on someone terrace and drinking. Then we proceed to make fun of each other deep into the night (usually Chocolate ... yep, that's his name) Its fun, and without pressure, and I liked the guys a lot.

Heres what was interesting in hyderabad, I had a date. With a very pretty girl i've known for a while. The last time I met her was at a party, and I made a complete fool of myself. We had coffee, and chatted. I don't think I felt 'the zing', but it was fun. It's been a while since I dated, and that was a good way for me to move on. We do keep in touch, but very very little. Although I did promise to send her a letter, the paper kind.

So yea, when I'm traveling, i like taking breaks. Thats why i took the weekend in calcutta, and thats why I'll go home for a few weeks. Also, i need to earn some money.