May I ask why you opened up this blog?

"okk
may i ask why you opened up this blog? i mean why do u blog!! "

Now, this was the question I got when I told my friend to stop by my blog and let me know his thoughts. This is the prose form of the chat (in first person) which followed this significant question.

Being a S/W engineer, I have these phases wherein I am so loaded with work that I hardly get a breather and then there are these phases wherein I have no work at all! So (as my first post truthfully proclaims) I got so bored in office one day that I started blogging. Plus, its nice to write about things I do/did and most importantly I get to exercise my creative writing skills.

But a blog?

Well, in that way I can get feedback on what I write and improve myself.

But do I really get the kind of feedback on which I need to improve?

Well, right now I just want the right kind of people to start reading my blog. But for that to happen I have to write as much as I can about almost everything under the sun so that some people will appreciate it or fight over it and that will increase readership and then I will write about the things that really matter. Things that will make a difference in the lives of others or make them feel kindred towards me.

When someone asks me something I can be so darn politically correct that no one will NOT not like me. But that's too much responsibility! Especially a brat like me. And a lazy one at that.

So, what follows now is the TRUE reason why I started blogging. And I can vouch for its authenticity with my very dear life.

One day my roomie asked me the meaning of the Malayalam lyrics in the song Jiya Jale from Dil Se. She just loves that song but being a Punjabi she can't (obviously) make head or tail of what the guy keeps trilling about in the chorus. She asked me and of course I didn't know. It was difficult to explain that I am a tamilian and that doesn't necessarily mean that I understand malayalam. And no, madrasi does not encompass all south Indian people. So then, there dawns this amazingly boring day in office and I just Googled for the meaning of those lyrics. I stumbled upon this blog. I felt very kindred towards certain things that she had blogged about and I was really impressed with her writing style (still am) and the best part was that it came across as being truthful. Nothing fakeish. At least, that's what I felt (still do). She is a typical S/W engineer like me and so I thought to myself that the day I get bored, maybe I will start one too. Alas, I was sadly new to blogosphere and realized much later that half the Indian bloggers out there are S/W engineers. Or worse still desi grad students in the US of A. So, on that fateful day (Ref: my first post) I started writing or rather blogging.

I was quite late to be initiated into the world of reading according to my family standards. Whereas my sister started as early as 7 or 8...I started at 12. But I fell in love with books easily enough. It was the one solace I had to escape from school, homework, studying and not be reprimanded. Even on the eve of a test or exam, amma would turn a blind eye if we had a non-school book in hand. We justified it as "a break from studying" and amma believed us readily enough. Because she wanted to. And there began my life long relationship with books and reading and this obsession for languages. And somewhere along this relationship I wanted to give back in a small way by writing myself. I get a warm, nice feeling inside of me when I read a good book. I feel kindred if the subject and character are easy to relate to my current predicament in life. When I am in one of my zombie-phases struggling for answers, I think up nice pieces in my head. The kind that only comes to you in those moments of profound realization. And the minute I reach out for a pen...POOF!...I go blank. So I've come to identify a blog as a medium to try in my very best way to come close to expressing those elusive pieces.

You may ask...why not a diary?

Well, a diary that ONLY I can read? Nah...I do a sloppy job then. I tried that once.

Now, a blog is a different story. I know people are going to read it. So it keeps me on my toes. I know I must deliver to a particular level of acceptance that should satisfy OR at least match with a good cross-section of the blog-reading/writing junta. So that makes me want to do better. Why? Because I was bought up in a society and studied in a school and college where external validation was the only means to measure my self-worth. And I carry this with me unfortunately in everything I do.

But to be fair, I am the kind of person who when/if left alone can get so darn lazy that I wouldn't even lift my little finger. And of course I am as clueless as the next person in this world. That's why everyone relates to The Sunscreen Song. If I had my way, I would while away time doing absolutely NOTHING. But if I do that, then I cannot do the other things that I occasionally also want to do and enjoy. I want to travel the entire world...I want to earn money, lots of it...then spend it like hell...I want to cook exotic dishes and make people submissive to my whims by just hypnotising them with my culinary expertise...I want to own at least ten different type of cars and drive them around crazily...also, I want houses in different styles in various decor themed interiors...I want to have a wardrobe the size of a Macy's store all to myself...and some such similar fantasies that most people nurture in their minds.

Ans I need a motivation that will make me want the above stated fantasies so much so that I actually do something that will take me 1/100,000 of an inch closer to achieving at least 1/100,000 of 1 of those 100,000 fantasies. This motivation comes in various forms, shapes and sizes. Initially, as a kid it was my rod-wielding amma. And to this day I am thankful I had her in my life. I refuse to think of alternate scenarios of my life without her presence through those struggling years. I did everything reluctantly...constantly shouting myself hoarse that I was a victim of tyranny.

Work is the panacea for the illness of laziness in me. Plus, money is a nice luxury. However meagre it may be. And the hope that things will get better one day. How? When? Where? What? are all questions that are yet unanswered. Right now, hope is the only thing that seems sensible to hold on to.

But I do need to be myself (confused, lost and seeking external validation) occasionally.

And so I blog.

P.S. : This post is dedicated to Sarad who was the brave-soul who ventured to ask me the question in the first place. :P