Writing is writhing

Hi. I’m Ashok.

For those of you not from Indian shores, that’s pronounced to rhyme with “A Coke”–though I never touch the stuff, give me plain desi paani anyday. (And that means ‘Indian water’.)

I’m a writer. Or trying to be one. No, I’m not being falsely modest. Some people think I’ve already made it big-time, both in terms of moolah and recognition.

I beg to differ.Writing is, by its very nature, an endless struggle. It only ends when you write ‘the end’. And the writer himself rarely gets to write ‘the end’ to the one story that truly matters: his own. Forget all you’ve read in novels or movies–like the eminently forgettable new Hindi flick ‘Shabd’ (somebody please get me a kulhardi, quick, so I can do something foolhardy!). In the real world, writing is attempting, trying, seeking…Writing is writhing.

If you can take some pleasure from it–I do–then that’s the best you can hope for, most of the time. Sometimes, it pays. Mostly, it just pains. Either way, I wouldn’t do anything else for all the money in the world.Also contrary to most popular perceptions, I don’t enjoy speaking my mind out loud in public. Which is the whole point of a blog, right?

Well, how about speaking my heart out? I’ll try to do that here, in this my little jhinga-sized space in a very large ocean of blogsam. Check back from time to time, and maybe you’ll find something of interest. Most likely not. You’ll probably do better to check out the more aggessively self-promoting bloggers. The most you can expect here is a little voice from a big country speaking heart’s truth from time to time.No advice. No expert insights. No articles on writing and making a million. Just a fellow struggler’s experiences, shared without comment or analysis or bias.

Playing it as it lays.Stick around…