The Indulgence called Writing

“And what is literature, Rabo,” he said, “but an insider’s newsletter about affairs relating to molecules, of no importance to anything in the Universe but a few molecules who have the disease called ‘thought.’” — Kurt Vonnegut, “Bluebeard”

You. Yes, you reading this. Have you ever wondered what made humans realise that looking at random squiggles on a beaten out pulp of processed wood and water and chemicals will click a button somewhere inside the gray matter in their cranium making them understand what the writer wanted to flesh out through his words?

You just had a very visual experience didn’t you?

Throughout my life, I have met various shades of people who have stood somewhere on the artistic plane. Some were right by the side of Giovanni Paolo Panini, and some would have perfected the enunciation of the word “silence”, as done by David Gilmour. And yet, everyone can not be the perfect artist, for if everyone can draw The Starry Night, then no one will appreciate The Starry Night.

Writing definitely holds great power over us, which while being subtle, can shape your actions in definite ways. I always stir sugar in my coffee by rotating it anti-clockwise seven times and clockwise once. Thanks for that, JKR.

Why do we write then? Why, in the age of viral memes and funny vines, is writing something held reverent? Why do authors, like pop singers, gain a cult following and have blogs and websites dedicated to their thoughts and musings?

Because what is written is read, and reading makes you think.

Because reading makes you twist and turn and tunnel through the nuances of literary devices to finally get a crack at that particular line uttered by that beautiful mouth in that wonderful page that resonates within and without you as nothing ever has or ever will.

Because reading makes you sit up and turn around and fidget while you hold the book close and turn through the life of the hero flying a kite, jumping out of helicopters, exploring caves, escaping from the military police, while every new page holds you captivated, kidnapped, in that world.

And, how will you read if no one writes?

So, why don’t you write something and see the power it gives you?

Like how I am about to disrupt your concentration by abruptly ending this article.

This article was written for Festember: The Renaissance by Anurag Iyer.