People.. Huh.some people thought that I am not a writer by my skills. Few of my relatives and friends posed questions at me on my writing skills and enquired if I am doing a mere cut paste job or opted for plagiarism. It itched me but I calmly answered them in the most subtle manner. My four year old blog with 40 odd blog posts, few published articles failed to make them believe in this small talent of mine. So, they reconfirmed with me. I appreciate their honesty for atleast they had guts to speak to me. The worst could have been spreading rumours on my art or abilities. Thankfully, that didn't happen.
Apparently, my south Indian appearance and my failure at great oration emboldened their views. Perhaps they expected my every word to rhyme and every lament to turn into a shayari. But I wanted to ask, how do writers look like? A nerdy look with glasses on all the time, curly tresses dropping on their shoulders or a bold boy cut? Wearing resplendent high heels and a mini dress smelling seductive like a high town modern girl? Or speaking impeccable with all that punctuation on the dot?
How is your talent judged on your appearance, life style or background? If only good orators can become writers, every politician in this country would have published their books by now. If only good looks can define your personality, then why do we call Rajnikanth and Nawazuddin Siddique finest actors (No offenses meant. I have seen the most sparkling eyes in them).
In case there exists any criteria to look and act like a writer, sorry, I refuse to fit in that criteria upfront. Because I want to be me, the way I look, respond, sing and laugh. Just me. I write because I am unrestrained in this bliss by family, friends, society and many nasty fellows. I can live on my terms and conditions in this world of art. Full and content.
If you second my thoughts, share my views, I am glad we are on the same boat. If you differ with me, we can have a debate sometime. If you don't like what I say, just keep calm and watch. I am despondent about your lousy remarks and will give a damn to it. Thank you for doubting my abilities because now I will continue to write more, nevertheless. Not to garner your attention and approval but to become a better writer.
I am not a colourful butterfly with utter visible beauty
I am not a nightingale that uses its vocal cords at its best to impress
I am like a snail in the gastropod shell on a sea shore, composed, deep, unattractive yet effervescent with heavenly euphony diffusing from its conch when heard with heart.