Life has weird ways of asserting its plan for you.
And it was so that I happened to get an email from Blogger telling me that they were going to close my account due to 15 years of inactivity! A blog that I began in college that I aptly forgot about.
I had forgotten that I was a poet. Or rather as @lakhan.raghuvanshi commented "Intentionally I stopped writing, like I stopped taking photographs after My Nikon D70 got stolen from my own house". Small events have a way of putting into motion cataclysmic changes. I was numb, thawed in insensitivity, choosing to loll around in my own misery.
I forgot that I used to wield a pen with so much of feeling,
I forgot, it would send goosebumps through by whole body, the world would turn blue for me.
(Typing away rapidly), I forgot that I fought with my professor over the intimacy of feeling pen on paper and the wicked sin that the keyboard was.
There was something pure to life then - unsullied by habit - an openness to experience which was'nt tempered by the fallow know-letch we accumulate as voyeurs and commentators of life. I wonder how Socrates was ever able to say 'the only thing I know for sure is that I know nothing!
I cant just do it because somehow I feel I know - that sense of comfort which crept in like a thief at night has indeed soiled my imagination.
I know cynicism - that which we are great at teaching our youth! Call it critical thinking, digital humanities, the discourse on rights or whatever fancy eyeball grabbing name you want to adorn your BS with, somewhere in this transmission a bitter taste is born:
Of crushing defeat of cherished ideals we held at youth.
Of empty promises of a better tomorrow that were handed down.
I stopped writing - it had lost all meaning - I was told to publish or perish and I chose the latter.
I chose to suffer silently, I went to places where no one wanted to go to. Faced innumerable rejections, saw golden opportunities that my peers grabbed hastily. All the while telling myself not to envy those who forged ahead. I know not how well I succeeded but I can say that in all my mediocrity I was still full of my self. I would'nt sully my self to the gains and losses of others when I had this crown of thorns.
"I will write when I feel compelled to write". was something I always said. When the poison of the would turned into wine, I would then pour it into crystal goblets and serve it to the world.
And here we are prompted by a AI bot switched on half way across the globe - Google Ireland Ltd, Gordon House, Barrow Street, Dublin 4, Ireland
It said, I quote:
"Hi aivin,
This email address has a legacy Blogger account associated with it that hasn’t logged in since 2007. In 60 days it will lose access to the account and associated content; the data will be permanently deleted unless migrated to the Google Account system at Legacy migration page."
