Thursday, 27 September 2012

silence falls like a curtain,
a sheet of soundless rain, all at once, while
people are not looking they are struck suddenly dumb
by anti-noise, by a lack of clamour
today is not a festival day,
nor is it a day of sorrow. silence is a time neither for rest
nor for learning. and though from silence we are forever
turning, in circles we walk, and so our journey
ends where it began: silent we begin,
silent we end, though it is not with silence
that we mend these tears.

Monday, 24 September 2012

To some extent, it is trivially and obviously true that insofar as this is my blog, I have the right to put up whatever I like on it, even if it is not of great quality. To which the obvious rejoinder is that given my generally negative response to bad quality writing on other blogs in other places, which presumably belong to people who are also free to put up things on their blogs regardless of quality, I should at least have the courtesy to not be a hypocrite.

I suppose I must settle with the fact that I am, in fact, a hypocrite. Yes, I rage at bad writing even as I attempt to write, and often end up doing so badly. But I would like the world (or whatever part of the world reads my blog) to, in fact, read my blog and whatever I write. And because I am incapable of objectively knowing the quality of writing on my blog, this is perhaps the only way to find out (if that, since comments are not exactly flowing from the heavens like manna around here, which is not necessarily anyone's fault but is an attribute of this, my blog, nonetheless).

I mean, sometimes I read what I have written and hate it, but then also sometimes I read what I have written and become immeasurably moved by it. Unsurprising, given that the the author of my words has an unsurpassed view into my mind, matched only (perhaps) by me.

So having settled on being a hypocrite, and having also realised that the only way to start writing well is to continue writing badly, and the brain is a muscle to be exercised like any other, I think I should start posting my poetry more. Because I am writing it, but it is not getting put up, you know? The only people who read it are the ones I expressly send it to, and I would like the vast caverns of anonymity known as the internet to ignore my work along with the rest of everybody else's.

But if you want the Ramayana, please wait. I am petitioning Saraswati, and she is koncham angry with me, I think.