Struggle stories have the
potential to destroy us as much as they have for inspiring. A Shah Rukh Khan may eject himself from Delhi
in order to find stardom in Bollywood, having gone through the necessary
agonies and sporadic ecstasies on the way.
An Anupam Kher may land in Bombay from Simla possessing little more than
two pairs of khadi kurta-pyjamas, walk daily from Bandra to the Prithvi Theatre
and survive on vada-pav bought with money obtained through tutoring children...
and eventually become a star. For every
SRK and for every Anupam, there are thousands who ruin their lives in the alleys
and byways of Bollywood.
Standing in the autumn of
life, I look back and pat myself on the back for not harbouring big
dreams. I wanted to be a writer. That was the only dream I really had. And I became a blogger. At least that. Small dreams, smaller achievements, no
disappointments.
It’s only when my laptop
went on strike a few days back that I realised writing was not a dream for me
at all, but an addiction. I tried to
write blogs using my tab but found it extremely tedious. All the ten fingers flying on the laptop’s
real keyboard is part of the addiction which cannot be gratified with one
finger typing on the tab’s virtual keyboard.
The laptop could have been
repaired in a day. But hartal is an
addiction for the political activists in Kerala where I have found my latest
abode. Two consecutive days of hartal (one
of which was specially designed for my district only) for reasons that are yet
to become clear to me kept my laptop locked up with the mechanic.
When the mechanic rang me
a few hours back to tell me that the work was done, the cool breeze that passed
through my breast which had been drenched by the sultry summer heat made me
realise that there are still some things that make life interesting to me. This narcissistic raving, for example.
Anupam Kher’s protest
against the attempts of JNU to decimate the country has already become stale
news by the time I am reunited with my laptop.
SRK has learnt the lesson about his right to silence. Our Prime Minister, who is also proud of his
rags-to-supremacy story, thinks that JNU protesters and Haryana Jats are
conspiring against him because he ascended from a lowly background.
The problem is not the
background. I’m sure the PM knows that
though he pretends otherwise for political and strategic reasons. The problem is our addictions. Some love power. Some love fame. I love my laptop, it seems.
Well written post.
ReplyDeleteThe joy of being with the laptop can trigger even this :)
DeleteHow I agree with you, thanks for bringing the point home.
Delete:) :)
DeleteCongrats on being re-united with your laptop....:)....At least there are some things that can be easily repaired....:)
ReplyDeleteAnd we are left with the wistful longing that some other things could be repaired :)
DeleteNicely put together. I love how you spoke of so many things and tied them all up together. :)
ReplyDeleteKeying in on a tab is so painful, I swear.
Contemporary India can drive anyone mad. That's my thinking is fuzzy here (and in the next post too) :)
Delete