Write well!

 This weekend, despite a very bad cold, I was busy with the fair draft of an article. As it is a critical appreciation, I thought of a quick look at my own blog, too.

I started it on May 9, the second Saturday of 2021. Yes, it was the Mothers' Day. As it was to be a tribute in a way to Aai's memory, with dollops of memoirs of Papa, I had promised myself that I would never ever miss posting a blog. Well, to this day, I have been true to that promise to myself.

It has everything, intense remembrances, lyrics, monodies, acrostics, art appreciations (many of which were hugely admired), essays on various issues, and some three to four times, even jokes, including the p.j's! Basically, it is wordsmith-y. So no visuals which appeared a little tacky and reel-ish to me. So avoided them like the Corona virus after an attempt or two after the end of the year of blogging.

Well, generally, it is my habit to find thousand faults with my own stuff, writing to singing to playing the bulbul tarang. When I used to regularly freelance with the English newspapers during my Ph. D. years, I used to find at least one (to countless, depending on my mood, which was not much to write home about, anyways!) fault in the published stuff. 

Senior professors used to like and admire my writing. Once Chandra Babu Naidu had praised my coverage of the Children's film festival, and the Desk Editor and the Chief Editor were very happy. Even then I would feel that I should/could have done still better.

That self-analysis and self-reflexivity continue in to this blog, too. Yes, there are regular readers. At least, there is a regular footprint. Despite the huge numbers that flash when I share  the blog post on the wapp status, I can never think of monetising the blog in any way even when it was suggested to me. Basically, I can keep the good lives of Papa and Aai alive, and that means hugely to me.

When I began the blog, I was told that Amitabh Bacchan never misses posting a blog. Well, it did not occur to me as strange, as I thought of him as a poet's son. But it was pointed out to me that he would have anyways an army of ghost writers.

I do not even need such contraptions. I try to write well, and drop each blog in to this writing well, wishing all along that I am doing a slight something for my parents who spent a lifetime for us. So here is wishing well that I shall write well till the end.

Pratima@ Writing gives a space and a name, as Shakespeare said, to everything, memories to musings, and thus enriches us, both as a writer and a reader, especially in the ChatGpt days!