I dont believe this

Allright!

So what is it that I dont believe? This whole idea of me finally blogging. Writing I have always been. It began way back. I could never understand why nor did i ever care to. I simply picked up pen and paper and started writing beyond what my play school teacher asked me to. I started making sense to myself, not to others necessarily. Then came a fateful day when i was gifted a colorful diary by some friendly friend of my dad's. i wrote my first poem back then. I was seven. And language was Hindi. Hindi because my mother was a master's in Hindi. and I always envied her literary understanding and capacity. I always wanted to catch up. Catch and hold on to. But like all of us we are definitely ridiculed by our own potentials. And as a seven year old I had only as much. But that itch was always there. Socrates said once, " Human race always wants a little more". I was one of this race and I wanted to catch up with my mother's potential. And only way, my feelings could find their manifestation, was through pen and paper. For that was the only recognisable way.

Hence came my first poem. I still remember it. About a child wanting new shoes so that he can go out to play with his friends. Then came another about a parrot and then I started growing up. Diaries got replaced. New ones came in and so did new thoughts. New manifestations. Couple of publications, countless acknowledgements, transition to english language, many awards, recognition from international library of poets and so many more things. And add to it a seven year old becoming eight then 10 then 15 then 20 and it was not stopping. He was growing up every second. and each one of those seconds had a story to tell. many stroies cumulated. Poems started dying gradually. May be not much romance left in pen as seconds of life accumulated and the fact that " life is never a little romance" dawned. Here i mean the dictionary meaning of "romance". Poems being replaced by stories felt like something was leaving me. Something very dear but I had to let it go for its and my own good. And it did not leave me all alone. Verses did go away but Paragraphs replaced those.

Regardless of whatever has been transitioning in this small self contained world of my writing, there always remained one common bridge between the stopovers. The bridge was medium of my expression. It was all through pen and paper. Intially those Chelpark ink fountain pen and loosely unbound yellowish white sheet of paper or diary and later ball pen and pad.

Then one day this bridge broke. It had lived its life and was ready to give way to technology. I lamented like all old timers or nostalgics do. But techonlogy does sweep you off your senses and emotions. For is not it all logic? I got webbed in logic and got lost. I bought a laptop and i started typing whatever my feelings were. Manifestations they were still, but not littered with ink drops. My fingers did not get blue anymore. My papers did not fly at the whirl of wind.

As if this was not enough. Thence came mother of all inventions, defying all logics invented till date. we called it WWW or worldwide web. I liked it for I was always sure about one thing. It wont enter my writing. It wont web my pen in. But I did not know web was not only about hotmails or yahoos. There was to be a Blogger. I resisted it as hard as I could. Always ostriching myself. That Blogger will not touch my writing. Some originality and writer's sense had to be retained. I let go Chelpark, diaries, paper binds and ball pens. But I atleast would like to retain my writing to myself. Till I give it to someone like International Library of Poets who had published my work almost seven years back. I would not give in to temptation of writing a blog and sharing my precious writing time for these one off write ups. I would rather work on my book fulltime. All these were my initial thought.

But nothing like this happened. WWW gradually and slowly crawled in. It overpowered my own senses and judgements. And here I am. Writing my first blog ever. To be followed by many. Little less initially so as not to do any injustice to my current and continuing writing endeavours. Nonetheless, I am here now. Totally absorbed and into the system. I am in and I am happy about it in a way I cant express. For once, I dont regret or mourn another change in the way I have been writing.And at the same time I dont believe this is happening. I really dont. This is first of so many Whirled Manifestations to come by. Untill next time.