Back to writing
A crowded metro seems like a great place to make a comeback at your writing habit right ? Talking about comebacks, was I a regular writer earlier ? Well, not really. I used to spill some of my thoughts through the keyboard and the rest of my works comprised of tech blogs, mostly tech news which were already copied from other big sites and some how to’s and guides. I did attempted to write about unattended problems in case of guides though.
Why back to writing ?
Well, I stay in Gurgaon. Its a fast paced, developing, weird city. Like most of the metro cities, its full of migrants aiming to fill their bank accounts, rare native “cityzens” whom I know less about. I call the natives rare because I myself am a migrant with a small circle. While I cannot comment enough about the permanent/migrant ratio, I am pretty observant with this metro crowd though. The fact that its crowded with people of different ethnicity, who are heading to their semi-temporary or recently bought flats or other residential bodies. After this much, I realized that I have always sucked at sticking to the point.
So yeah, why back to writing ? In a way my above paragraph is quite related to the answer. I am an introvert guy mostly preferring solace or small company. And standing in this metro, watching people requesting the guys sitting on the floor (not near the coach joints but the one in front of gates) to stand up, I can tell you that it has not been a very peaceful time for me.
Well, nobody likes a packed crowded, exempting thieves and perverts probably. But this is just one scenario in my long day with the crowd. Talk about heavy traffic almost everywhere during peak hours. Weekends at Cyber hub, Sector 29, where selfies are found more than a bunch of guys just talking, with their phones inside bags or pocket. I must tell you, I am a very tolerant guy, who may observe a lot, but says nothing. I look everywhere, find a lot of cases which I don’t approve of. But I look and ignore, silently commenting that its their life, why bother. It worked great for a while. I felt like the 1%ers who are supposed to be smarter and richer than the rest. Life was good. I had a superpower to dodge bullshit.
I guess that’s where it hit me. You know,
With great powers comes great responsibilities.
For me, it was the responsibility to live with everything that I have seen and ignored. The ignorance included all the personally faced situations I didn’t approve of. Now note that these weren’t the things directly harming me in any way. Had these been intrusions to my own personal space, or blockers in my daily chores. I would have attended them and solved ultimately. But no, they were the others, judging me, probably commenting, misunderstanding me, advising me. I considered these cases as their own problems. Its not that my life is pretty sorted out and I am acquainted with every right and wrong. But I do know a bit about the person I am, what I really want.
Now if my watch-and-ignore policy worked perfectly, I would have stayed perfect with my plan. Unfortunately, every such ignorance left a mark on me. A question I needed to answer.
The question ?
When you don’t share, how do you control your feelings ?
How do you ? I mean, can you really stay happy alone ? I am not talking about peaceful moments you live when you need solace. But the ones when you’re happy and you need to share. Or when its going too hard for you and you have no clue what’s next. That is what kept bugging me even when I tried to ignore. If there is a thing called conscience, then its pretty adamant. Only if you’re really more adamant then you could stop it. And I couldn’t.
So why didn’t I share my feelings. Because its no less than being naked. You trust the other person or else you will be judged. And this city crowd is a category full of judging traits. So, no, I wasn’t going that way.
And so I write..
I did feel like sharing a lot though. There is so much to share. There is so much in this world to just ignore. Maybe that’s why I like writing. I am known to portray my best when I write my feelings. Much more than when I speak them out. Plus there may be many in this metro coach who would understand what its like to feel the way I do. And yet noises always curb signals. And so I write. I share with those whom I want to. I would communicate with those who would converse instead of judging. And so I write, hoping to bring my beloved yet imaginary world alive.
