I came across an old falling apart book whilst moving from one city to another....a file carried through 40 years unlooked at, unread, unseen. And then one day I opened it and read what I had been writing 40 years ago. It was interesting, giving a picture of some of the things that I wrote about, and what were some of the thoughts, ideas that I was interacting with many many years ago.
Today in Akshay TIrth April 24 2012, the day Ganesha started to write the Mahabharata. It is said that any project started today will have blessings and success.
So today I start this blog which will share some of the writings, thoughts concerns that have shaped the way that I live.
I have read that when you start to write have an audience in mind. Its simple. my kids, family who are interested, friends and the networks that we are all part of.
It would be great to have your feedback and comments.
To begining of a new project...Jai Ganesha
The first article I ever wrote :
THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL OR
‘WHY DID YOU COME BACK?’
UTTER confusion in the house, get it painted, can’t let him see it like this, he’ll be ashamed, his room, what colour? Everyone‘s happy, of sorts, but now what will they rave about to their friends? Call up aunties, great grandchildren, make all 20 of his favorite dishes, and when the last coat of paint is barely dry………..
Garlands of flowers to hide his breaded (Oh no!) face, strangling closeness, screams and hugs of “so you’re Guddi, how you’ve grown”, sweet on his collar, time and confusion spinning his tired plane-weary head. People already pawing through his only open airbag. “Where‘s the whisky, tobacco and chocolates?”
Back home, bath, clean, no shave (“Don’t mention the beard please” he hears in hushed whispers). Pa running, “what do you want? Beer, gin, vodka? We got it specially for you.” Putt-bang-bang questions being fired, to make him feel at home, I guess. What why, when, how did he do (in 5 Years)? Poor guy’s nervous as hell, just wants out of this screaming mob…….
First day excitement-excusable-but next day, month, year…….
Hot, sweaty, miserable weather, job – hunting, my god, what a racket, Pa, Ma zealously over kind, and everyone, every single goddamn one must ask, “So why did you come back?”, and he wants to scream “BUT WHY SHOULDN’T I?” AND HE DOES ONCE OR TWICE, AND EVERYONE STARES, HALF SATISFIED (“Crazy, phoreen-returned”). So he gets tactful and talks about patriotism, and wanting to do something for the country, and utter hatred for the USA.
But no one understands, nor does anyone care they don’t want to know why he came back, they just want to confirm that he is back and that he couldn’t make it.
Parents and friend, beware! You could chase the poor guy away not because he didn’t like it here, but because he’s always being called to justify his being here. Why do you breathe? To live. And why do you live? Ask yourself that often enough and you start thinking of killing yourself.
Really, it’s crazy to ask someone why he’s doing something. Why? Cause he’ll usually just come out with some rationalization that is far from true, and he’ll probably start believing in what he’s just said. Can’t we just accept someone for what he is doing like a morning cup of tea?
I don’t know why I came back. I just did. But 200 ask me “why?” every month.
Once a very eminent man, now in a top government post, cornered me and questioned, “Why is it that all of you go back? When will you go back?” I muttered. He retailed. “It’s the money the good things, you can’t do without-we can’t offer them to you.”
That’s true for a certain type. But from my experience far more are just plain scared. They really feel they need a reason to come back. What will people think? I have everything but I’m giving all that up. Why? He can’t answer the question so he stays in the routine rut he has. The reason he can give himself for staying is material-the reason he can’t think of leaving is fear-not that he can’t live without all electronic gadget but a personal fear that he cannot answer questions like these or be accepted at home precisely because he has chosen, that’s the catch, chosen to come back.
It’s a stupid fear, isn’t it? But one has to be strong to face it, flight it abroad and here again. It is honestly easier to simply stay put.
The fact is that very few people really want their son, friend, relative to return. I mean, the status is symbol “my son abroad” is simply far more awe-inspiring as “My misfit who has just returned…....”
So mother, father, uncle, girlfriend, servants, give the guy a chance.
July 8th 1972
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