“Write!” he said.

I often wondered who evaluated the content in a ‘creative writing’ competition. The whole idea seemed bizarre from the very beginning. The idea of telling someone that he/she was not creative enough only seemed like saying that Jayalalitha was definitely corrupt but not corrupt enough to be prosecuted. I only wondered but never got to the bottom of it because nobody gave enough of a fuck to care.

That was when things started to change. I studied my entire life in college alongside a bunch of halfwits who either bought seats or studied at institutions that forced irreparable damage on the creativity front. I studied at IIT and I already knew that the ‘greatest minds’ of the nation were robots waiting to earn money in order to settle in a world free of ‘burden’ when it came to monetary needs.

There were a few who strayed off to find their higher called. They ate pot brownies in classrooms and found the ‘golts’ hysterical. They laughed. All day. Some happened to be my friends. Hence, I laughed along.

Finally, I met this one guy who seemed to be from a middle class Punjabi background. I found two things strange about him:

  1. He was a Punjabi in IIT-M. (No Northie opts for that. Ever)
  2. He was exceptionally stupid.

I had limited interactions with him because he kept trying to discuss matters of importance (Politics, Sports, Women in random order) with us and told us dis credible facts, made up stories and hijacked women. Well, their numbers off of our phone, at least.

“Write!” he said to me one day when he was drunk. “Write to the people who like to read what they want to hear”. Making up stories became his hobby. He gained an audience (a dumb one, at that). He published a book, quit his job, gained film contracts for movies to be made and continued writing incomprehensible nonsense. He still made more money than I will ever will and he stood by everything he said that drunk night. “Write!” he said and I am still sitting here creating conspiracy theories about life and how it turned out to be so different for the two of us. Maybe he did win the ultimate creative writing contest and I was still writing about his win.

I often wondered who evaluated the content in ‘creative writing’ competitions. I still don’t know.

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