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Have stopped writing

Writing was a hobby that I discovered some eight years ago when I was forced into the job of Executive Editor of the company magazine. My nervousness at writing for the public audience was quelled by the comforting thought that no body in the company would really dare to criticise or ridicule my writing however stupid it might have been! My position in the organisational hierarchy ensured that implicit acceptance of what I thought was the trash produced by my key board. But when a sales manager from a distant depot in the north east met me at the company program and talked appreciatively about how my article on Sitaram Baba (the guest house servant) was received by the customers, I saw a purpose in the writing.

Writing appealed to me as an avenue to open up .. open my heart and mind to the world at large. It was an opportunity to relive my idiosyncrasies and stupidities and laugh loudly at myself in the full public gaze with no fear. I saw the opportunity to go naked with no sense of guilt. That indeed gave a freedom- an escape from the self imposed image of what I was supposed to be in the eyes of the public. Each story of my guffaws peeled one more layer of the superficial man hiding within me. The resultant honesty of purpose and sincerity opened many more channels where I could see myself as part of the larger sea of humanity made of a huge mix of personalities from the humble taxi driver and lift man to the snobbish businessman. The Internal revenue Officer in Singapore taught me a valuable lesson on being accountable. The bus captain and restaurant owner in Singapore passed on few tips about customer service.

Writing helped me to stand outside myself and view my experiences with a sense of amusement. The flash back of the incidence when I was teased by the factory girls or when I sang “roop tera mastana” for the sweeper girl turned out to be hilarious stories. My ineptitude at buying Kolkatta saris for my wife was show cased in yet another story. The introspection helped me to evaluate the instances where my cowardice was at full play in the same manner as the occasions which caused extreme pain and anguish.

Public writing enabled me to share my excitement for fitness training. The high of going for a heavy legs training was translated into a torrent of words in exactly fifteen minutes just before I stepped out to go to the gym at 6 on a cold December morning. There were several occasions when the sleeplessness and tossing in the bed were resolved immediately as I wrote an article in the middle of the night!

I was also now viewing my relationships with a special interest. The family starting with my father and going down to my grand daughters gave me the unique opportunities to examine human behaviour and portray it for the benefit of the public reader. Even the cat in the building became an object of an article.

I believe I also succeeded in making my readers smile a bit with stories about how the maid got pregnant after eating the upma I made or the struggle that our family cook had to go thru serving me a bad sambhar prepared by my wife.

Writing has been a great stress buster and I found I was hugely relieved when I shared my moments of joy, excitement, pain, frustration and anxiety on a public platform. Writing was also a great stimulating challenge. Being able to find the right word and combination of the words was always critical. Remembering the sudden thought and the emotion until one was able to translate it into a blog was a tough task particularly with the memory problems associated with age. So the train ticket and boarding cards became the scribbling pages .. and were always misplaced! It was also critical that the written piece was cogent and flowed in a manner that it sustained reader’s eye balls and attention. Writing was by no means easy but demanded huge creativity and presence of mind to ensure the finished piece was not just a verbal diahorrea! Writing was always fun.

But then all good things have to come to an end some time.

I have stopped writing! I am finding it difficult nay impossible to discipline myself and jab at the keyboard to produce a cogent piece of a paragraph. The restlessness has a paralytic effect on the ability to collect ones thoughts and pour them out.

Writing is no more that exciting exercise. What has gone wrong?

Is this an effect of growing old and an indication of the onset of senility or dementia!

To be continued
Ganesh / Mumbai / 24-12-2014

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About The Author


Ganesh - R



A corporate manager for over 40  years with an all round exposure. Have had the good fortune of great bosses who unfailingly took the risk of trying me out with  new functional responsibilities  that I was neither qualified to handle nor had any prior exposure. This served as an excellent opportunity for learning and  the exciting process continues even as I am ready to retire! 

 Have bid adieu to formal learning process long ago but the quest  continues.

"Human beings" interest me the most .. the curiosity at observing and learning from fellow beings appears to be a key  driver at this stage of life. Would like to spend the rest of the days in making a difference to them.

Other interests include gymming, music, etc..  

Blogging seems to be a god sent opportunity to laugh at oneself freely and without any pretensions. It also provides an excellent route to introspection albeit a bit loudly!

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