Let's get real

Disclaimer: I am writing this post partly, because I want to think aloud, partly , because I want to vent out and partly because I want to be heard. This by no way intends to hurt anybody's feelings or give flight of ideas to anyone about how to hurt others. I am not writing this to explain myself, I am only doing so inspired by my utter faith in human intellect and a hope that people will eventually get it right.

Art was supposed to make people feel uncomfortable

(until art became a reason for people making artists uncomfortable.)

Let me remember my glorious college days. Late 2000s, early 2010, back in Medical School. We were a blogging squad, a group of friends with different backgrounds- some doctors, some engineers and some -I don't know what. Nobody knew us, or so we thought. We had created our own beautiful twisted Worlds on blogspot which we never failed to update. Whether it was something we encountered, something we cherished or something we felt deeply about. And we called ourselves "blog buddies". We loved our pseudonyms and we loved the fact that we could express ourselves , our deepest emotions on a platform and get some feedback on the same.

I must have stumbled upon many contemporary bloggers at that time, who talked of life....and eventually, changed my way of perceiving the World. People broke rules, in the way they wrote, in the way they spoke their truth. That must be the first time, I actually discovered my inner mind, and developed a way with words. And though I had a limited audience( that probably included my blog friends), I was happy. Because I could be myself on that page, in that space ...and I was free to explore the waves of my mind, as and when they came and went.

As days passed by, I polished my expression...and I grew big. People from all over the globe started following my blog.

My friends advised me to publish my work. Soon, I came up with "Hallow: Subtle Strokes of Imagination and Raw Sensibilities". It was a book that compiled my intense moments of creative self expression- in the form of verses, poems or art. The book was appreciated by many. It after all, had the turmoil of everyday life, sketched in ink. And who else could have written it better than a teenager.

Wait. The book had its own problems like the cost and marketing- but the funniest part was getting the reviews. I distinctly remember one review in which my aunt tells me how she found the book a masterpiece and how she wanted to "hug me and console me " ! I mean like WHAT? I thought the book was inspirational.

Where did I go wrong? *blink.

She soon understood it was only natural for an author to write one's own experiences and experiences of others...and she complimented me upon the depth of my writing and how it had resonated with her at such a deep level, that she had felt it came out of my individual experience. She even bought more copies of my books, and gave me a lovely feedback, which I still cherish to date.

I got good reviews from a lot of my near and dear ones. Though most people appreciated my writing and style, they felt I had gone too personal, or I was too conflicted, too much in pain or sorrow.....or too sensitive. But for God's sake, I was a teenager and I wrote what I felt . All I was trying to do is to give a positive value to something everybody faces on a regular basis.

Thanks to the public judgement and scrutiny, I still think twice about republishing that book. And I am scared as Hell as to what people might understand of it.

This whole incident reminded me of a poem that I had written in a bout of emotion about a breach of trust with someone I had held dear at that time. Now, there was nothing much to that story except the fact that I was idealistic and believed in some values, maybe was even too attached....which the other person was not. We parted ways. Now this poem struck chords with so many hearts that it became the raging flame, the talk of the town with everyone giving it their own flavour....and I soon realised (much to my anguish) I had a lot more followers than I had ever imagined.

Till today, some of my readers have not got over the heart break ...I wonder if they have also faced similar circumstances and have felt pain as intensely as when they read my story. Or maybe , they just love the idea of a damsel in distress, ready for their (unsolicited) help... Maybe a girl's feelings fascinates their imagination and feeds their emotional vacuum. Maybe, it just became a reason for knights to show their armour and impress a girl who seemed too trapped in her own prison.

Come on guys, get over it. Be kind to authors or artists in general. Stop projecting your own ideas onto an author's wild creative imagination. Do not stop the flow of ideas by being judgemental.

No body wants to be trapped in negativity forever.

Authors move on, so should you.

Guess what, my blog buddies were wiser. They stopped writing long back.Their blogs feel like graveyard of afterthoughts, that reminds me of ghosts of the past.

Guys, I am scared of public eye till date.

And I still prefer to write anonymously.

Till I find an invisible cloak, maybe.