Do not accept the world

I am vexed, worried, troubled and disturbed seeing #democracy unsafe in the hands of the ruler. It is not understandable to me that we do not value #freedom just because we are not the generation that fought for it, or we blur our eyes on any attack on it. It shivers me that we are affected only by heavy taxation, bad roads and inflation when the stakes are so high. The most basic of rights is being snatched away from us.
If we do not make any effort to fact-check and make our own people aware, who will? There is no opposition, so we must now play its role. If there could have been any opportunity to be #patriots, then it is here. And it is to be kept alive amid the herd-chant that is misleading those who are romantic about the ruler and his man ki baat–who solely reserves the right to do so. #Journalism #freedomofspeech


How poets own their lives

Have you ever heard of a job that needs employees to write poems and fiction?

I haven’t. This kind of worked cannot be forced. It cannot be even be taught. It can only be improved for the better or worse. It still sells, though. By this I mean, the writer or the poet is the ruler and nobody can tell the writer what to write. This is why many poets and writers die of hunger. But remember that they made nobody responsible for it. The owned it like they owned each and every element of their lives. They surrendered to their art alone.

Pursuit of a passion

I do not buy the idea of pursuing a passion in hope for success. Success is arbitrary. It sounds not only exhausting but also selfish to me to place your mammoth of an effort on that fifty percent chance of “I may” by ripping it apart from “I may not”. Instead I found a better way.

I often find myself wondering and analysing most of the time on subjects of culture, human nature, the characters they are, ideas, places, and in short existentialism. I do feel exhausted at times but I never ask why I must continue doing this. I do it naturally, inadvertently, without my own knowledge.

I do it with an inane belief that I’ll never finish. I will never finish. This is the truest thing about this pursuit. This, in fact, is true of anything. You’ll never finish but then you will reach a place where you will rejoice on having experienced something uncomparable and magical for a moment or so. This is all it is about. This would perhaps be some fleeting moments of divinity where you’ll lose yourself to an abstract idea or thought, the way I am experiencing it now, or you’ll have achieved a tiny worldly success that will elevate you in the eyes of some people, making them look up to you in awe. The latter should hardly matter because someone else in times to come will take it over from you and nobody will be able to deny it. Somebody will have a more appealing representation of your ideas in the times to come and even though your work is timeless, you will feel bitter about your work being compared to anybody else’s work because your obsession with your work was special and private. The former is part of the process and will stick with you till you last, making you break yourself for yet another such experience, making you obsessed with the passion even more. This should matter to you no matter how many people you know who do not believe in you. This will render your art immeasurable.

Ambition is a thing but freedom from it is an unparalleled fun. It is not about winning and very few great artists have had a nemesis, their competition being with themselves.

This will free you because this is what anybody with a passion for his work is looking for. Freedom.