Why Write?!


Why not?!

I: ‘I love black.’

They: ‘Blue is better.’

I: ‘I feel she is capable.’

They: ‘Not necessarily.’

I: ‘The movie was more or less dictatorial.’

They: ‘It’s acceptable.’

You might by now understand the gist of the whole play at hand. At a time, where there’s more noise as opposed to substance; where, hashtags dictate and define what popular notion is; and, where one follows suit and tends to accept what is being thrown at. The whole idea of putting down her/his thoughts down on pen and paper is perhaps the only best alternative towards breaking a stereotype of this stature.

In times present, where listening stands as the underrated sibling to shout outs; where, irrationality trumps rationality, it’s not everyday that you get to finish with what you started stating. When you write, you open up. You tend to contemplate; introspect and, retrospect. When you finish, you realize that you’ve moulded your thoughts. And, when you finally publish it, you realize you’ve made yourself heard. The idea of writing should not be curtailed by the 140 character limit as dictated by Twitter, for, one needs to breathe in words by the bulk and volume for expression and for bringing out its soul in its purest sense. It should also not be directed by the likes of craving for acceptance on Facebook, but rather, it should be said and left then and there without the presumption of gaining mileage.

The motive for written text is purely that of self expression. It lets your train of thoughts reach the finish line. Nobody dictates to you as to where to pause and punctuate and, where to place your periods.

And, nobody ever should.


My Review: Animal Farm.

The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.

– Animal Farm.

First published by George Orwell on 17 August, 1945; I believe I made the greatest injustice of them all for having picked it up in the recent weeks past. This can perhaps be best termed as a satirical novel in certain terms; if such a genre exists at all. Without giving much into the overall gist of the book, George Orwell seems to exhibit his sheer brilliance as a writer for the simple and lucid manner in which he takes a dig at the Stalinist era that prevailed in Russia at the time and at the Russian Revolution of 1917 in general.

It’s one of those reads that keeps you completely pinned down to the book right from the very start with an air of promise all throughout. What bewilders the reader the most and that what continues to do so, is how the author resurrects faith in the whole idea of storytelling. If you’re the type who fancies the use of flamboyant vocabulary, then you might detest this; for, the grade of language used here is in a way, down to earth and with the real emphasis being laid on making the reader understand the message that the author tries to convey and open up his/her eyes to the light of truth which he sees rather than pay much heed to the rustling of leaves and the gentle lash of tides against the shores with a poignant air of melancholy to it. Well under 200 pages in all, it doesn’t take much, before you swift past the finish line. But, what that truly enthrals you in the end is how Orwell effortlessly manages to make you see through everything that is at play even before it eventually unfolds up in your mind.

In short, it’s all hands down in praise for George Orwell’s, Animal Farm. This is one aspect that finds a true reflection across all spectrums of society. Perhaps, the only lot that might not feel binding to be appreciative of this would be the former that I had made mention of earlier or the ones with a pro Stalinist outlook. Either way, it is certainly a must read for all ages, shapes and sizes, for, as the book rightly points out, man is but, nothing short of a beast in it’s rawest thoughts.

– Hee-Haw!