Being me!

Amidst all the work loads I have, with internals standing on my doorstep, all the mental pressure I have for the known monster, developing the courage to face the unknowns and facing the phase of transience, here I am, unable to leave my desire for the sake of idiotic but necessary apprehensions. I have always considered writing to be eternal, something which makes me feel like I’m actually living, it doesn’t matter what I write, how I write and how it reaches you but once I'm done hitting the publish icon in my blogger page I feel like I’m  flying ahead of the infinity.

Art and creativity is the very oldest love pair, envious it could be for the current day couples. Since the day of their inception and through, they have produced wonderful and healthy children, children with the names of painting, sculpture, dance and writing. Very recently they have produced photography, cinematography and many more modern art.

Though all the children make us gratified, dynamic and make their parents happy. One child is least considered than rest, minimum accepted and avoided maximum. It is in great despair for not making its parents proud. What could it be other than the literature? The art which is very least considered among this day go-getters.

 I accept that they have their own taste and preferences but I cannot understand the point that why they consider literature or literary work as a Stone Age phenomenon!

A song, A movie, A photograph can make a teen fly sky high with emotions but when it comes for ‘word’ related art, he dejects it gawkily.

Is it a generation gap or the inception for the deception of literary works?

Ask a creator, apparently not God, you will know how much a gratitude for his work means to him. When a young and fresh photographer, short film maker, guitarist, singer gets surmount of reverence, it is a forlorn that a young novelist, poet, blog writer, columnist doesn’t even get one tenth of their credit.

If one set of people are so we can find a different mindset people. They compete with the first set of people in giving me a despondent feeling. when I say that Chetan Bagat and Amit are awesome they will readily have a disgusting look in their faces. I have seen many faces asking the same question “Why the hell he is reading that?” to them Indian authors are cheap. Their perception is so. Dan Brown is the only writer for them. This is like showing off by telling “I had Macroni double cheese pizza you know? I just can’t stop juicing my lips even after I finish having that!”  I seriously don’t know what is wrong with those people of Barat? They like to brag everywhere? This is seriously ridiculous. When they can enjoy the works of Bagat and Amit  privately, when they really feel  pulse in the stories created by them, when they can be manipulated by the stories of customary Indian citizen, then why in the abyss they can’t digest that the stories are good and be proud of that?

When I can proudly say that those Indian writers are my inspiration and they are my role models, why can’t the readers feel satisfied atleast?

When there are too much of digitization around,we people fail to realize the importance of conventionalism.

This is an era where people know Mahabarat through the ad-studded Star Vijay!

People get the feel of seeing Mahabarat only when they get an adrenaline gush through encounter with an Ad when Arjhun is ready to fire a missile on Karna!

People fail to enjoy the effect of moth smelling paper ‘effected’ stories when they switch over to you tube version of those epics.

Technical advancement is good but it shouldn’t be like ruined test cricket due to the advent of T-20. Current methods may be interesting and good but it can never replace the class and standard of traditional ways.

I find many ‘poetu’ writers these days,where they get much of attention from the taste deprived audience. They relish their skills in the deprivation of the audience. Though we can’t define a boundary for the creativity or creative writing, I feel bad when the same audience fail to understand and enjoy the standard works of the gifted budding writers.

These ‘poetu’ (s) fright me; they might set a wrong example for next generation writers, when the exertions of literature or literary sources are already pushed to the underworld.

I don’t speak behalf of writers; I speak as a common man who suffer in pain due the onslaught of the go-getters towards these day writers.

I dream for a day where the writers are respected and recognized.

They must be equally crazed like the photographers and other artists.

People must not get the image of ‘jolna’ bag when they think about writers.

I’m proud to say that I enjoy writing, though what I write is good or crap and I adore all the writers no matter what is their genre or their so called standard!