Skip to main content

With love and gratitude to Blogchatter


I wrote a lot more in Feb 2025 than in the past many months. The Blogchatter has been responsible for that with their #WriteAPageADay challenge. My association with this blogging community is rather short: just a little over four years. I’m concluding the Write-a-page-a-day challenge with this retrospective post.

With their various ‘challenges’ such as Write-a-page-a-day and A-to-Z, Blogchatter gave me a lot of impetus to write regularly. Writing sustains me as a person more than anything else because there’s no other place where I can express my views and feelings so freely. Even AI [Artificial Intelligence] has accused me, albeit subtly, of being opinionated. Read, if you wish, what ChatGPT said about my blog the other day on my request: here.

I took interest in writing long ago when I was a school student. I wrote in Malayalam in those days because I did my entire schooling in a rustic Malayalam medium government-aided school where English was taught by teachers of chemistry or some such subject. Teaching was more like policing in those days and creativity of any sort was stifled right in its womb by teachers first and then parents. Toeing the lines drawn by the various social systems was all a child could do. So, my efforts to write something beyond what the Malayalam teachers wanted me to was frowned upon, if not punished.

College was entirely different, however. One of the Malayalam teachers in my college went out of his way to cultivate my writing skills. I won quite a few prizes in various writing competitions too with his blessings. After I completed college and took up a teaching job in a school in Shillong, I dared to send a short story of mine to a periodical edited by eminent Malayalam poet, N V Krishna Warrier. My joy knew no bounds when I received a handwritten response from Warrier that my story would be published in the periodical. 

Receiving a prize from Justice Subramaniam Potti for an essay competition (early 1980s)

Hardly a week after the story was published, the folksy literary critic of Kerala, M Krishnan Nair, shot me with his metaphorical AK-47. Malayalis of my generation won’t ever forget Krishnan Nair. His weekly column in a popular magazine was widely read by Malayalis of those days. He had a lot of fans too. I too read him avidly because he introduced to us a lot of classical literature from different countries. Kazantzakis and Jose Saramago and a lot of other marvellous writers from Europe became familiar to Malayali readers because of Krishnan Nair.

Nair aimed his gun at me because he judged my short story as “a case of pneumonia” which he hoped would go away soon enough as all maladies usually do. Krishnan Nair had a sound sense of judgement, no doubt. My story wasn’t anything great, I realised later. In fact, it took me quite a while to realise that much of my writing wasn’t anything great. Krishnan Nair was like my Malayalam teachers at school as far as his impact on my budding literary ambitions was concerned. I gave up writing in Malayalam and took to writing in English.

My writings in English weren’t looked kindly upon either, especially by the Catholic missionary priests in Shillong who took out their AK-47 when I refused to toe the lines drawn by them. They had sound reasons too to do that just like Krishnan Nair.

Then came blogging to save me. I started blogging in 2001 on a platform provided by the Times of India. Eventually I switched quite a few platforms for various reasons until I earned a little worthwhile reputation here on Blogger. The Blogchatter has been a constant support too in the last few years. I must add that this community, Blogchatter, has also given me some gifts occasionally. I was quite delighted to find that the monetary gifts alone amount to over Rs10,000 so far – in four years. Not bad, right? What’s best, however, is that the Blogchatter never wields any machine gun. On the contrary, they are extremely friendly and supportive. My only regret is that I have never made it to any of their offline meets so far.

One good thing about blogging is that there are no Krishnan Nairs or Christian missionaries to cock their guns here. Those who want to read, do; others ignore. As simple as that. And I am happy to get fairly large number of readers. 

51,000 views a month is a record for me

Thanks to all the readers who have been with me for their own reasons. Thanks for enduring me in spite of my opinonatedness. Thanks to Blogchatter for the constant support. With this post, I’m concluding this year’s Write-A-Page challenge. 

Comments

  1. Hari OM
    Applause and kudos my friend! I for one appreciate you not hedging your bets or hiding your lamp! YAM xx

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Ghost of a Banyan Tree

  Image from here Fiction Jaichander Varma could not sleep. It was past midnight and the world outside Jaichander Varma’s room was fairly quiet because he lived sufficiently far away from the city. Though that entailed a tedious journey to his work and back, Mr Varma was happy with his residence because it afforded him the luxury of peaceful and pure air. The city is good, no doubt. Especially after Mr Modi became the Prime Minister, the city was the best place with so much vikas. ‘Where’s vikas?’ Someone asked Mr Varma once. Mr Varma was offended. ‘You’re a bloody antinational mussalman who should be living in Pakistan ya kabristan,’ Mr Varma told him bluntly. Mr Varma was a proud Indian which means he was a Hindu Brahmin. He believed that all others – that is, non-Brahmins – should go to their respective countries of belonging. All Muslims should go to Pakistan and Christians to Rome (or is it Italy? Whatever. Get out of Bharat Mata, that’s all.) The lower caste Hindus co...

Stone Yard Devotional

  Book Review Title: Stone Yard Devotional Author: Charlotte Wood Publisher: Sceptre 2023 Pages: 297 W hen a novel starts with a middle-aged woman giving up her job in despair and entering into retreat in a cloistered convent where soon arrives the bones of a nun who died long ago elsewhere, it may be presumed to be a suspense thriller or crime fiction. Add plague in the background with mice running all around, and it can become horror. Then comes in another character who was absolutely disliked by the narrator in their schooldays. Charlotte Wood’s latest novel has all of these but it is no thriller or crime fiction or horror story. It is an allegory of sorts on very gentle themes like forgiveness and redemption. The narrator has no name in the novel. The nun who comes with the bones of Sister Jenny who died two decades ago was a school classmate of the narrator. Jenny was probably killed by an American missionary priest in Bangkok where the nun was rendering her serv...

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

Awards and their joy

  One of the funniest things I find about myself is that my attitude to life is extremely ambivalent.    I take many issues of life very seriously.   On the other hand, I’m aware of the most profound absurdity that underlies human existence, and this awareness helps me laugh even in the face of disasters. Right now, I’m laughing at my foot imprisoned in plaster of Paris by the orthopaedist.   While I’d hate to stay put even in heaven for too long, I have learnt to play with the luxury of free time afforded by the present experience.    This blog is part of that playing. First of all, I must thank three persons with an apology to two of them.   They are: Anjan Roy , Guspazha Chinar , and Umashankar Pandey .   My heart goes out to them for nominating me for the Liebster Award.   Unfortunately, I was not in a position to respond to Anjan and Guspazha because when their nominations came I was on both my feet which carried me from...

Tanishq and the Patriots

Patriots are a queer lot. You don’t know what all things can make them pick up the gun. Only one thing is certain apparently: the gun for anything. When the neighbouring country behaves like a hoard of bandicoots digging into our national borders, we will naturally take up the gun. But nowadays we choose to redraw certain lines on the map and then proclaim that not an inch of land has been lost. On the other hand, when a jewellery company brings out an ad promoting harmony between the majority and the minority populations, our patriots take up the gun. And shoot down the ad. Those who promote communal harmony are traitors in India today. The sacred duty of the genuine Indian patriot is to hate certain communities, rape their women, plunder their land, deny them education and other fundamental rights and basic requirements. Tanishq withdrew the ad that sought to promote communal harmony. The patriot’s gun won. Aapka Bharat Mahan. In the novel Black Hole which I’m writing there is...