I’ve
never really talked about the story of this blog: the real reason for
maintaining it and about all the fears and emotional reasons that led me to
writing. This will be slightly long and personal, but I’ll try not to make it
boring. Also, if you know me personally, you would probably be able to identify
some of the people I will be talking about in this little narrative; however, I
would request you to not reveal the real names in the comments or anywhere else
and respect their anonymity.
Chapter 1: Mr. Sexy Pants
I
had a bunch of wonderful friends in school. Now, even though I went to an all
boys’ convent, one of my friends was (and still is) the closest real life
version of Kareena Kapoor from Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham. He will probably kill
me if he reads this because how could I not call him Meryl Streep from The Devil
Wears Prada because the latter is so much more classy. Anyway, the benefit of
being around such company is that such people know how to pronounce all the
French words and give great style tips. The disadvantage, though, is that you
end up feeling like you’re growing up in an all girls’ school.
This
friend, who we will call SexyPants, is a great guy: intelligent, charming,
funny… till you don’t make a faux pas like
pronounce the name of a very popular hotel in Delhi as Lee Meriddiun, at which
point he goes batshit crazy and calls you gavaar
among other names. This was treatment that I was subject to quite often as in
my simple world, Gucci rhymed with Gukki. I used to be so nervous in front of
him that I remember him once pointing to a banner that read “poverty” and asking me to read out the word. I thought it was a trick question and the O was
supposed to be pronounced as “aa”. So, I ended up saying “paaverty”, for which
I was mocked again in front of a few peers.
Small
incidents like these made the fifteen year old me realize how stupid and
unaware of “classy” things I really was. More importantly, it made me not want to communicate in English in
front of Sexy, lest I would be humiliated again for being so gavaar.
Chapter 2: The Mis-Editing of the School
Magazine
In
Eleventh Grade, I found a guide for the CBSE English curriculum called BBC,
which was short for Brajindra Book Company. I would learn up all the model
answers before every English exam and end up scoring the highest marks in all
English tests. It came as quite a shock to the other top scorers of the batch
as I was not someone who was considered to be great at the language to be
getting top scores consistently.
At
around the same time, I applied for the Editorial Board of the school magazine
as it was one of the coolest clubs you could be a member of in school. My
objective was to make it to the Ed-Board only to enjoy some popularity that
came with designing and working on the school magazine. I hated writing and had
a terrible fear of being made fun of for saying or writing something that would
be grammatically incorrect. Surprisingly though, I was made one of the Editors,
a title that gave me a position of pseudo-authority over the other members.
The
tough part came when as an Editor I had to submit at least one piece for the
magazine. I kept dodging the requirement till there was no way out. I finally
wrote something with lots of inputs from a friend and submitted the article.
The
year long stint with the magazine made me realize how terrified I was of being
judged by people, assuming that everyone else was superior to me and could see
all the faults and shortcomings that I had as a person. By the end of that
year, I was relieved to know that I was no longer the Editor and would not be
asked to write anything again.
Chapter 3: College Tactics
My
college had a prestigious club of street theatre artists, which I badly wanted
to be a part of as I had had a long history with theatre through my years in
school. I went and spoke to the club’s President, informing her of my interest
to join the team. I was told that they wanted someone who could write a good
script for their next production. Not wanting to miss the opportunity, I told
her that I loved writing and could help the team with it.
I
was selected at the time of auditions and was soon a part of the street play
society. The real challenge came when I was then asked to work on a script and
I knew I couldn’t run away from writing. I wrote several drafts, which others
improvised on, and the script was ready.
Writing
for the street play didn’t seem as hard as I had imagined because the script
was supposed to be in the form of dialogues that required heavy colloquialism
and was not meant to be read as literature. It was a test of my creativity, but
not one of my writing skills, per se.
Chapter 4: Book Editor and Co-Author
Years
had passed and I had still not overcome my fear of writing. I could see how I
equally feared public speaking, and this fear was more of public opinion than
anything else. I feared being mocked and thought of as someone lesser than what
I was. To quote Bollywood, “duniya ka
sabse bada rog; kya kahenge log.”
Soon
came an opportunity in the form of a leading educational publishing house
requesting my parents to author a book on auditing. It was too tempting an
offer to let go. I decided to help my parents with the project and spent months
writing the manuscript with them. I also took up the task of editing the whole
work, proof-reading it and making it ready to be printed and sold as the
publisher did not want to spend on an independent Editor for the job.
As I
was fresh out of college and did not have a professional qualification at the
time of the book’s publication, it was decided to not put my name as co-author
due to my lack of credentials. I was instead given credit for being the Editor
of the book.
Even
though this should have been a huge boost to my self-esteem and a punch to my
fears, I thought it was not a true reflection of my capability as a writer
because the subject matter of the book was technical and did not require any
creative writing skills.
Yes, I’ve been a self-doubting moron all through.
Chapter 5: Not Giving a Hoot
Tired
to see how the constant fear of public opinion kept me wallowing in self-doubt
and held me back from trying new things for the fear of failure, I made up my mind to
start a blog. So, one night, I decided to not sleep till I would make my blog.
I wrote a quick post and created this site on the internet to put all my opinions in the public
domain, finally freeing myself from the fear of negative public opinion.
Over
a hundred posts down in the past three years, I know this blog doesn’t have
readership running into numbers that I could boast about, but I’m glad that I
took this step. I’ve found a number of friends in the few who read the posts
that I put up.
I
think I am my worst critic and hate most of my posts in terms of content and
expression. But I carry on in the hope that may be slowly and steadily, I might
improve as a writer. I also feel terrified of writing about topics (like this one)
that others may find boring and stupid.
But I continue to write because I hope I can overcome the remaining little
shreds of this fear over time.
If
you’ve read this tediously long post right up to this sentence, I thank you for
being so patient with me and being a part of this project. You probably don’t
fear failure and public opinion as much as I do, but if you do even slightly, I
would suggest that you take a step to face and overcome it at the earliest. I
will be more than happy to offer any help that I can.
A Few Acknowledgments
I
would really want to thank a friend from college who introduced me to the
concept of blogging back in 2009. She probably doesn’t read this as we have not
been in touch for years now, but I hope to tell her some day that I am really
thankful to her for this huge contribution.
I
also want to thank all those who comment on the blog with both positive and
negative feedback as it keeps me motivated to continue this project. I am also
thankful to all the other silent readers, if there are any, who read the crap
that I put up. This blog may not entertain you much, but you must know that you
are really helping me by reading this. Thank you :)
To
show you how much this blog has contributed in making me a cool person, read
what Urban Dictionary has to say about me.
Yes,
I’m extremely talented, but please don’t Sarthak me sure anytime.
