The Importance of Anonymity
The way this place has progressed from a bunch of intellectually connected people to a circle of friends has been a bitter-sweet experience. While on an emotional level it has been very satisfying, from a more intellectual perspective, it has been somewhat a not-so-healthy decline. So much so, that after writing the previous sentence, I paused to re-read it, and considered adding a qualifier to ensure noone was offended. That, I feel, may not augur well for a group of people who got together to exchange ideas and thoughts.
When I was a little kid, I loved writing, I wrote tons and tons of short stories, which I never showed to anyone in my family or even my friends. My father is a writer and a public speaker, and he would critique everything, from the essays in class, to the way I spoke at the dinner table. My mother, on the other hand, would fawn over almost anything I wrote; Which was great initially, but I realised, as I grew older, that her maternal affection clouded her intellectual judgement. I stopped writing soon afterwards, it wasnt any fun if you got no feedback anyway. And so the creative monster lay dormant in me for years, and mathematics and the sciences took over. The beautiful thing about math (which many of you wouldnt agree with, I am sure)is that, unlike the sciences, there can be more than one answer.And I know that's not what you are taught in school. But I digress, let me get back to the point. I had all but killed the literary side of me.
And then, sulekha happened. The blessing of anonymity. I was under a mask, safe from personal and emotionally tainted evaluations of me and my writings. Some of my articles were appreciated, some werent. Some were commented upon favorably, others lambasted by intellectually independent individuals. Some comments were obnoxious, some sickeningly sweet. And all put together, they left just the right taste in the mouth. I loved my new-found creative freedom. "Uber Goober" was now a writer in his own little way, free from the unrelenting criticism of his father and the blind adulation of his mother.
But somewhere along the way, I lost my self again. Dud Sea Scrawls happened. I got drawn into a group of intelligent people, who perhaps made the biggest mistake of deciding to throw away the mask of anonymity. I say "perhaps", because I might be wrong, and that we have chosen to do the right thing. But there is no doubt that it is strange that I had written almost 20 blogs in Sulekha, and post sulekha, I have written only 3 in almost the same time. The reasons, I believe, are manifold. I spend most of my time talking to people directly on the blog board. That is, in some ways, a more effective means of communication. But it is not the same as blogging. Also, as a result of getting to know all the bloggers, I can no longer be an entity behind a mask. Moreover, they know me and sometimes it is hard for them to write out their mind, and the same holds for me too, when I read their blogs/comments. My judgement is now clouded, almost the way my mother's was.
Whether I can ever get out of this and start writing more blogs with gay abandon (pun ABSOLUTELY not intended! ;) ) I do not know, but I hope things change soon!
When I was a little kid, I loved writing, I wrote tons and tons of short stories, which I never showed to anyone in my family or even my friends. My father is a writer and a public speaker, and he would critique everything, from the essays in class, to the way I spoke at the dinner table. My mother, on the other hand, would fawn over almost anything I wrote; Which was great initially, but I realised, as I grew older, that her maternal affection clouded her intellectual judgement. I stopped writing soon afterwards, it wasnt any fun if you got no feedback anyway. And so the creative monster lay dormant in me for years, and mathematics and the sciences took over. The beautiful thing about math (which many of you wouldnt agree with, I am sure)is that, unlike the sciences, there can be more than one answer.And I know that's not what you are taught in school. But I digress, let me get back to the point. I had all but killed the literary side of me.
And then, sulekha happened. The blessing of anonymity. I was under a mask, safe from personal and emotionally tainted evaluations of me and my writings. Some of my articles were appreciated, some werent. Some were commented upon favorably, others lambasted by intellectually independent individuals. Some comments were obnoxious, some sickeningly sweet. And all put together, they left just the right taste in the mouth. I loved my new-found creative freedom. "Uber Goober" was now a writer in his own little way, free from the unrelenting criticism of his father and the blind adulation of his mother.
But somewhere along the way, I lost my self again. Dud Sea Scrawls happened. I got drawn into a group of intelligent people, who perhaps made the biggest mistake of deciding to throw away the mask of anonymity. I say "perhaps", because I might be wrong, and that we have chosen to do the right thing. But there is no doubt that it is strange that I had written almost 20 blogs in Sulekha, and post sulekha, I have written only 3 in almost the same time. The reasons, I believe, are manifold. I spend most of my time talking to people directly on the blog board. That is, in some ways, a more effective means of communication. But it is not the same as blogging. Also, as a result of getting to know all the bloggers, I can no longer be an entity behind a mask. Moreover, they know me and sometimes it is hard for them to write out their mind, and the same holds for me too, when I read their blogs/comments. My judgement is now clouded, almost the way my mother's was.
Whether I can ever get out of this and start writing more blogs with gay abandon (pun ABSOLUTELY not intended! ;) ) I do not know, but I hope things change soon!
