Skip to main content

When no one misses you



The last week and a half kept me so engaged that I couldn’t even find time for writing. Rather, the outstation duty enervated me so much that I couldn’t even care to switch on the laptop. When I got time today, being Sunday, I turned to my laptop. Quickheal antivirus was very prompt to warn me that my software had gone outdated. Just a week is enough for things to become outdated in our world where everyone is in a hurry.

Will I become obsolete or redundant if I stop writing? The question hit me with a pang. The hit counter of my blog showed readers coming though I was not writing anything for a week. However, no one except a good friend from Delhi bothered to ask why I was not writing. That friend was kind enough to text me that she “returned from the [blog] page slightly disappointed…”

Curiously, I got an unexpectedly large number of friend requests on Facebook during the week so much so I remarked in an FB update that “When I stopped writing I started getting a lot of friends.” I have no way of knowing whether the two – my not writing and the offer of friendship – are correlated. Most probably it’s just a coincidence.

However, one of my FB friends suggested that I should stop writing so that I will get more friends from all “categories”. My response was: “More doesn’t always mean better!” There’s no question of my stopping writing. Asking me to stop writing is as good as telling me to stop breathing. I’m glad that the hit counter of my blog kept ticking even when I didn’t write. It shows that there are people who take me seriously. Thank you, folks.

A former student of mine raised the question whether it is “really worth it” in response to my Facebook update. Maggie told me a couple of days back how she was confronted by a group of my present students, on her way back home from school, to enquire when I would be back in the classroom. “They said they miss you awfully,” Maggie teased me. I grinned. It’s nice to know that you are missed. I have no intention of becoming an ascetic with stoic detachment or indifference to people’s attention.

I missed the classroom even more than blogging. Retirement is going to be a problem, I think. There are some people whom I don’t want to miss.

Just one more day. After that I’ll be back to normal life. That awareness is a cool relief.


For the past 10 days my car was parked just near this tree at the place of my temporary assignment. I couldn't but notice the scars carried by the tree. I felt love for the tree. "I'm like you," I told the tree yesterday. "The only difference is I don't flaunt the scars like you."

Comments

  1. Tharun RaoMarch 24, 2019 at 2:30 PM

    Sir, i was one of those who missed your writings, i used to open your blog daily at 10pm and felt disappointed and even thought of sending you a friend request on Facebook to know why you were not writing from the past week and now i feel relaxed

    ReplyDelete
  2. Rajeev MoothedathMarch 24, 2019 at 6:14 PM

    "I’m glad that the hit counter of my blog kept ticking even when I didn’t write. It shows that there are people who take me seriously."

    Well, I did come and check a few times since you are one who writes with a regular frequency, on important topics at that! Glad to see you back.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Tomichan MatheikalMarch 24, 2019 at 10:37 PM

      I will be regular now that my extra duty is coming to an end.

      Delete
  3. Sonal's PalletteMarch 25, 2019 at 12:02 PM

    Your words are engaging as ever :)

    ReplyDelete
  4. conradMarch 27, 2019 at 2:58 PM

    Here's to the scars usurped by our desires. I'll never tire of your works Sir.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Nima DasMarch 28, 2019 at 2:14 PM

    Your writing is excellent and I am sure your teaching is too. Who doesn't have scars ? Some carry them in their hearts while others bury them deep under ground and few flaunt them !!! I wonder which is better.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Tomichan MatheikalMarch 28, 2019 at 9:34 PM

      Better not to reveal. The world loves to scratch scars. Especially the religious people whose tribe is on the rise.

      Delete
  6. Sunita SriramMay 4, 2019 at 7:34 AM

    My personal experience says Restarting may be more difficult than starting and yes no one missed me but after all we write for pur own joy and expressions!
    But the same doea not hold good for stalwarts like you and the readers would be eagerly waiting for your daily dose of gyan and prolofic thoughts very cogently put forward

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl
47 comments
Read more

The Little Girl

The Little Girl is a short story by Katherine Mansfield given in the class 9 English course of NCERT. Maggie gave an assignment to her students based on the story and one of her students, Athena Baby Sabu, presented a brilliant job. She converted the story into a delightful comic strip. Mansfield tells the story of Kezia who is the eponymous little girl. Kezia is scared of her father who wields a lot of control on the entire family. She is punished severely for an unwitting mistake which makes her even more scared of her father. Her grandmother is fond of her and is her emotional succour. The grandmother is away from home one day with Kezia's mother who is hospitalised. Kezia gets her usual nightmare and is terrified. There is no one at home to console her except her father from whom she does not expect any consolation. But the father rises to the occasion and lets the little girl sleep beside him that night. She rests her head on her father's chest and can feel his heart...
18 comments
Read more

Are human systems repressive?

Salma I had never heard of Salma until she was sent to the Rajya Sabha as a Member of the Parliament by Tamil Nadu a couple of weeks back and a Malayalam weekly featured her on the cover with an interview. Salma’s story made me think on the nature of certain human systems and organisations including religion. Salma was born Rajathi Samsudeen. Marriage made her Rukiya, because her husband’s family didn’t think of Rajathi as a Muslim name. Salma is the pseudonym she chose as a writer. Salma’s life was always controlled by one system or another. Her religion and its ruthlessly patriarchal conventions determined the crests and troughs of her life’s waves. Her schooling ended the day she chose to watch a movie with a friend, another girl whose education was stopped too. They were in class 9. When Rajathi protested that her cousin, a boy, was also watching the same movie at the same time in the same cinema hall, her mother’s answer was, “He’s a boy; boys can do anything.” Rajathi was...
12 comments
Read more

The Real Enemies of India

People in general are inclined to pass the blame on to others whatever the fault.  For example, we Indians love to blame the British for their alleged ‘divide-and-rule’ policy.  Did the British really divide India into Hindus and Muslims or did the Indians do it themselves?  Was there any unified entity called India in the first place before the British unified it? Having raised those questions, I’m going to commit a further sacrilege of quoting a British journalist-cum-historian.  In his magnum opus, India: a History , John Keay says that the “stock accusations of a wider Machiavellian intent to ‘divide and rule’ and to ‘stir up Hindu-Muslim animosity’” levelled against the British Raj made little sense when the freedom struggle was going on in India because there really was no unified India until the British unified it politically.  Communal divisions existed in India despite the political unification.  In fact, they existed even before the Briti...
16 comments
Read more

Roles we Play

When I saw the above picture of Narendra Modi in the latest issue of India Today , what rushed to my mind instantly was a Malayalam film song Veshangal Janmangal … Life is a series of roles dressed up for the occasion. There are different costumes for celebrations and mourning, and there are people who can shed one and move into the other instantly. Are your smiles genuine? Do your tears mean sadness? Or, are they all costumes that suit the occasion? Are you just an actor who plays certain roles? Is the entire cosmos just a gigantic theatre for you? Where can we find the real you beneath all the costumes you keep changing day in and day out? Have you relinquished dharma in favour of cravings? Truth over expediency?  
10 comments
Read more