Why I Write: I Can Make Stories Out Of Nothing At All

I am a thoroughly boring person. I have no huge passions or interests. I have never owned a stamp collection. Didn’t grow up wanting to be an astronaut, despite Rakesh Sharma’s valiant attempts to stoke my generation into aspiring for the magical. Never ran after butterflies in a forest, heck, I don’t even like forests. Or mountains (too green), or beaches with their shell-pocked sands that hurt the feet. I’d rather spend a good evening with good friends at a good restaurant over good food. But I’ll hardly call myself a foodie. When I was younger, education was like this huge school bag I hauled each day, like a beast of burden.

Isn’t it bewildering that the more you get to know a person intimately, the more difficult they seem to be?

Then I got older and substituted one bag for another – this one meant for a laptop and unfinished work documents. I still lug that weight around to this day because, you know, I have a glass and oak dining table and one must put food on it. Adulting, it’s called. I have been doing it for thirty years now, still don’t know how. And let’s not even get into relationships. The only thing that’s certain about those is that one must run away from them as far and fast as possible because, by comparison, they make everything I have described above look like Toy Story.(Toy Story 2, actually). Isn’t it bewildering that the more you get to know a person intimately, the more difficult they seem to be?

I am a procrastinator. I delay every decision, every action, every closure for as long as I can. No, it’s not because I am inky-pinky-ponkying at every crossroad of life. I don’t suffer from fright of consequence. It’s more because I still don’t know how to address the issue of inertia. I must have taken Newton’s Third law of Motion too seriously. That physics is part of my biology now. If for every action there is a reaction, then better to take no action at all, no? Taking the next step entails more work, taxes one’s little grey cells, and, horrors, changes the status quo!  Why not just revel in the Inertia of Rest, then?

I don’t suffer from fright of consequence. It’s more because I still don’t know how to address the issue of inertia. I must have taken Newton’s Third law of Motion too seriously.

I am very dispassionate. Things don’t usually bother me. I don’t get ruffled easily. I also don’t get overly excited much. Or anxious. Steady is very good. I don’t take up challenges. Because, what’s the point? A friend of mine once drove seven hours on horrid roads to get to that lake in Ladakh or somewhere near China – you know the one where they filmed Aamir Khan’s film. I asked her what she did once she got there. She said she walked around, took photos, soaked in the scenery. I said, "What else, no boating-shoating?" She said, "Of course not, it’s not a frigging boating wala lake, you idiot! I said, "Then what was the point of going all that distance?" She was angry at the silly conversation. I thought it was a genuine question! Someone else I know just went bungee jumping. Another friend is doing his second Masters – just 8 years away from retirement age. But, good on them. I don’t judge.

When I was asked to write a few paragraphs on my motivations for writing, I waited and pondered and delayed until the third (and possibly final) reminder. I dithered only because I thought I had no gyan to share on this topic. I really don’t.

But, boy, can I make stories out of nothing at all.

That’s why I write.