Okay. I confess I have been delaying this blog for long. All the shiz about “change is the only constant thing”, “change is good”, “blah”, “blah” only feels good to quote and put as Instagram captions.
But when it actually hits you and your almost eight years old baby blog with a name you wished you had thought more about, it dosen’t feel so good.
I wrote my first blog post when I had what I think was reverse-black-hole-of-words syndrome. When words were getting sucked out of me faster than I could contain them and I needed a safe haven for them. So fast, that I almost missed out a few vowels here and there (swear that was it, I wasn’t one of those kids who thought writing lyk dis ws kool!)
With a handful of readers (that included my mom and a few friends who I used to send the links to), I had found a non-judgy, dark and fancily lit disco to dance around with my words.
I wrote about people I love, people I met, people who changed me. I wrote about amazing day outs and wonderful semesters and how divided I stood after having two homes. I attempted to write a story, a poem or two, which are the only two that have anything close to rhyming scheme. Now I can only do prose, basically words stitched together in short sentences.
Over the years, while my writing found it’s way through words with vowels and sentences that had commas and full stops, a theme that ran constant was how I survived through situations. Be it how I survived the day right after a very bad haircut in high school, a biology exam, the swimming lessons, the valentines day, first day in coaching, first 100 days in college, salsa lessons or merely street shopping in Mumbai.
A theme I still feel runs in me, survive the awkward and the difficult while having a verbal diarrhoea in my head.
There was also a phase (a phase which I think might just be still going on) where I tried to write more sense-making stuff, in heavy polished writing which people who read will like. I started caring too much about the number of likes on my writing.
Hitting publish after every writing took just a little more courage and a lot more overthinking than it did before.
I have never been consistent in my writing. Whenever I took writing seriously, it seems to have deteriorated under the pressure of seriousness. And just when I let it dance without inhibitions in that disco I was a regular to, it seemed to sound more Chhavi-ish.
So with 40 blogs published and 26 drafts on Blogger, and the reverse-black-hole-words symptoms showing up again, it only seemed fair to renew my membership at the disco. Maybe a different one. This one dosen’t have the name I started out with or my childhood legacy of blogs posts and views (I can import all of it, but somehow entering the crowd without my dance moves seems more fun). But this one will have a more uninhibited (and consistent) blogger.
To my old disco blog, thank you, you have been nothing but a wonderful friend who danced as badly as I did. And to this one, you can finally have more of me. To writing more and writing again (this is in no way a part of find-cool-new-year-resolutions campaign I have going on). And to all those who read till here, this word, this fullstop. Thank you.