I’ve always loved writing. That’s pretty much a standard response that you’d get from most writers, or should I say writer types?
I’m the writer types, I like saying “I’ve always loved writing”. However, the lady who put the “This is a 10-mark question, where is the rest of the answer” comment in your English answer sheet will have a different tale to tell. That lady is my mother, my English teacher in class 12/12th grade.
I had to write an ‘essay’ about this Keki Daruwala short story – Love in the Salt Desert. That question was worth 10 marks in a section for 55 marks. I was expected to wax eloquent about the ending of the story. Did I want to? I don’t think I did. Somehow when I was 16, having to wax eloquent about two people from two different countries who fell in love when their eyes met, was not my specialty. I was just happy writing three paragraphs of relevant sentences that made the point they had to. Hence the comment “This is a 10-mark question, where is the rest of the answer”.
I really and truly wish that I could go on and on endlessly about things. I mean look at some of the articles and columnists out there, read how they write with a certain amount of wit and panache about just about everything under the sun, even your chaddis if you let them. Well, I think some journalists have attempted to write about underwear, but it’s not in very good taste, don’t you think? I like good underwear, who doesn’t? But to sit and read about someone’s inners? Not very interesting, if you ask me. However, columnists still live and they are still talking about all and sundry, good for them. I tried to do that, for roughly two years, turns out, as much as I like spinning a verbal spiel and the next writer, I can’t run around being a commentator about all and sundry.
Now, what next? The writing gig didn’t work out. I should have taken the hint in class 12 when my mother pointed out very helpfully that I should attempt to pay some attention to what’s being asked of me. If I’d known then, I would never have attempted poetry and thoroughly embarrassed myself by creating a blog of poetry! Le sigh!
It’s that time of year, again, when I’m wondering, nay pondering the purpose of life again, and once more, I have no answers.