“That was a nice book Sir, and I must tell you, one amongst the bravest ones in Bhutan”, I complimented him.
He would just smile, “It was after drinking some bottles of beer that I had the knack to write those chapters”. We both laughed and discussed everything and anything, and yet, nothing made a sense.
With data from here and data from there, with human evolution at its zenith pinnacle (as of now), writing should be the sixth sense and to decipher what folks write, should be the seventh!
With time, perhaps notions unveil and the curtains merely seem to fall, only to find everybody being a writer and everybody being a reader. Enter any bar or a workstation, with cheap smell of ale to overrated aroma of supplements of suits and ties, we hear interpretations upon writing and how it should have been written. Perhaps, the world has stalled, the zenith pinnacle evolution? Since when did we all start to find our solaces and redemptions in words? Since when did those very words, bashed up and beaten up by owners, who owned mild hammers of connive, manipulation, deceive, fear and deceit win over the naive and the innocent?
Perhaps, in all those ages of seeing realities ‘upon’ or ‘from’ vertigo, those were mere messed up, drugged up or depressed writers – who wrote something that was closely related to sanity then, just that then, the then mobs and mops weren’t ready to embrace the truth – which of course, which generation has ever accepted so far?
Yet here we are, at the summit of zenith pinnacle of whatever the world is headed to. The impatient millennials, the accidental billionaires and the wannabe accidental billionaires, the liars, haters, nepotists, lechers, egoists, and quite funnily we have all accepted them – the lying politicians.
Writing I believe is more than winning battles, it is more about winning the war. If one is to write to make money or make fortune, it either has to be an accident or it either has to be some agents shoving it down upon everybody’s throats! Perhaps, next time you select your lobbyists, go for the agents who promote books. Ah! Writing? Everybody’s a writer, just that they don’t want to accept it. And the world always has or have been (go munch on this grammar Nazi) – a reader!
Because, even if a writer meant that the curtain was freaking blue, just because his wife bought it blue for no reason : the readers have their own theories about why it was bought blue or were or are blue – did anybody take in account that the author might have been married or had an annoying sister who did the shopping? No! Everybody wanted to describe Author’s mood from 4th century!
Well, that’s where the author smiled and said: The curtains were simply blue, I just wasn’t in my shoes?