Sunday, September 19, 2010

Raison d'être


A nine year old kid writes down a simple story about two friends who go fishing. He stumbles thro' a storyline and finally ends the story during a free hour at school, with a moral on friendship. His neighbour peeps into the pages and declares the story wonderful. The word spreads and a few others read his story and applaud him. This drives him to write another one. And another. And another.
And the boys continue to compliment him. Every time he writes something, the boys cling onto it with excitement. One day they thrust a piece of his writing into a teacher's hand and demand him to read it. The teacher goes through that reluctantly, yet he smiles at the kid and asks him to continue writing.
The kid continued to write. And he's still writing with passion, this very sentence.

Why did the few boys have to approve of the 'two friends' story?!
Why did they have to thrust it into the teacher's hands as though it was written by them?!
Why did they have to tirelessly read whatever I gave to them written?!
Not that my stories were great. It was just that, I wrote them. A fellow student, a neighbor, a friend, wrote something. And the kids knew no other way of responding to it than giving a hearty smile and tonnes of encouragement. No matter what I wrote, they welcomed it just for me.

The 'two kids who were friends, who went fishing' story was plain and dumb. Two friends. They go fishing. One knows to swim. The other doesn't. While fishing, they develop a misunderstanding. Minutes later, the second kid falls into the water by mistake and is in the verge of drowning. The first one, jumps into the pond or lake(whatever,...water!) and rescues him. Story ends.  Moral. Friendship is pure,...blah blah goodie stuff.
And they loved it!

They had every reason to say, 'This is crap' , 'Same old friendship story' , 'Bad writing' , 'Oh, so you call yourself a writer huh?!' ...or anything else.
And the teacher could have coldly denied reading my stuff.
Or he could have responded to it like, 'Good. Anyway prepare for your exams. Keep this one a hobby.' or a 'Is this how you waste your time?! Go on! Do some mathematics!'

What do I have to give them in return but a little 'thank you'?
If so, how do I thank them? I have nothing.
I have nothing more than words at my possession. I am a writer. They gave me the guts to call myself so. Who are they?

The kid who postponed his playtime at lunch for reading a story of mine.
That boy who told me after a teacher criticized my story when I was fifteen ,"Dude, that's a masterpiece! Don't give a damn about that guy. He's nuts..."
The kids who called me a writer, and made me so when I was nine or ten, and continued to consider me a writer even before I could realize one within me.
Those friends of mine who call me 'Black' without mockery.
To all of them, I have nothing more to give than another piece of writing.

2 comments:

Manoj Rao said...

If I remember correct, I have read this days back in college I believe. All I can tell is EXCELLENT! Keep it rolling!

Balaji S said...

@Manoj:: Dude, no. I wrote this after college. You remember it 'cause you've read this piece on my previous blog that I had with a diff acc.
BTW Thx for ur comment..
Keep reading:)

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