Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Writing to me is....

...talking with my soul?  Ah that's too melodramatic na?

I remember the first time I spelled my name in nursery. I was excited , VERY and I repeated it again and again to my father. My father was not very impressed after the first two three times. I remember him saying that's not your naaaame but I was too excited and happy. Now I think I must not have written my  name after all but all the same that moment was special. The moment when alphabets made sense. And now when I see the illiteracy in my immediate world I am thankful that i have had the opportunity to learn to read and write.

My mom writes. She is very eloquent and passionate when she talks about something. Her Tamil orations are a pleasure to hear though i may not agree with many of her thoughts. Her poems are very very beautiful for us, her daughters. In fact together with our rhymes and other songs, we often sang her songs at home. I always wanted to publish her poems and songs. But she refused. She say they are for God (All her poems are spiritual) and she didnot believe in publishing them. Well loss for the world and the Tamil Community  of my religion if you ask me.My elder sister writes too. At least she used to write and I think her writings prompted me to take up writing too. Younger sibling have an extreme tendency to ape their elders. I have driven my second sister crazy with my aping her in every single thing she did.

I used to write letters. A lot. I could express better in written words. I started writing diary when I was in 12 or so. I rarely wrote more than 20-30 pages but I always had a diary from then on.

My excessive day dreaming resulted in me starting two novels. My cousin was intrigued with my spending so much time writing and asked if  he could read it. I had barely finished introducing my characters yet i gave it to him. He read it and commented. "it's nice but it's too long". I got upset. "Its supposed to be long -it's a novel " I retorted but then lost my interest in it completely  and thus my two poor novels were abandoned. Hmmm, I was easily influenced by negative criticism. Not  anymore :) Anyhow, I was never meant to write fiction anyway.

Till then writing was something unconscious. It didn't mean much to me. It changed when I started a blog. I discovered that writing publicly required courage. The thoughts in my mind found freedom in the words I typed. This gave way to more thoughts and opinions. I found that it takes courage to have an opinion, and more courage to share it with the world. I have felt people normally have a very low opinion of their own opinions. The shackles of the mind seemed stronger than the shackles of the body. The more my thoughts and questions were expressed the more I got the strength to push the frontiers. I was no longer afraid to have an opinion. And I cannot tell how much liberated I feel when I realize that.

Putting your thoughts- your deepest feelings in a public domain - in your own name - is not easy. You subject yourself to criticism. You are afraid to write about something - what would XYZ think about me if he/she read it???? But that too is slowly being overcome. When I write about inter religious marriages or about anything that moves me or even a situation i have faced or overcome, a fear... something...anything, I feel somehow, somewhere I might make a difference to someone the way so many others have unknowingly made to me. With each positive comment (well with each comment) my confidence increases. Sometimes I think my expressing myself itself was the starting of a journey which lead to my marriage to hubby. Who knows where the journey would lead me next!

My Parents opened up the world for me. My husband taught me to fly and explore. My writing served as my wings. You may shackle my body with invisible chains....but not my mind...... My words have set it free...

And this is what writing means to me.


Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me.
You made my day :)