The catch in chaos.

Blots may not necessarily mean impediments. They are what offer succour to a near-perfect canvas. A dash of colour to a dull, uniform painting. A deviation from the mundane. A relief from the eye-sore that uniformity is.

Take time off your busy rest-taking moments and look through the window. You will know what I intend to convey. You may or may not understand the feeling but you will know. The sky is an ocean, a vast expanse of blue hue that never ceases. If not for the clouds that blot, how are we to lead a healthy life? There would be no rain for the farmers. No seed will rear its head from underground. No harvest takes place throughout the year. And ultimately the vortex of hunger draws in the rural and the urban class, the literate and the illiterate, the rich and the poor, the men and the women. It does not distinguish and does not side with any particular ilk.

Such is the power of a blot. We have always thought of them as our lethargy or carelessness that intruded the work which otherwise would have been perfectly performed. We categorized them as garbage, something to be removed and destroyed as and when it was observed. I beg to differ. We shall learn from blots. We shall learn that achieving perfection will act as a perfect anathema to the resurgence of creativity and innovation.

Comments

On P.G.Wodehouse and why he should be read more.

I enjoyed reading Saumya Balasubramanian's article in the Open page dated 16-JUNE-2019 (Wodehouse, undistilled). I truly believe this world needs to be made aware and talked of PGW's works more than it currently is now. I am all of 25-years old and I was initiated into the world of Wodehouse by my family who were and still are crazy fans of the author's oeuvre. When everyone around me was fervently and reverently talking of Jeeves, I would be gnawed by a feeling of being left out. Of knowing zilch about this fictional character who apparently had given and still gives a glut of laughs when his exploits were explored in family conversations. To add more salt to this wound, my aunt would relate anecdotes wherein she used to fight with her cousins and uncles and father of how and where Jeeves had been right and wrong. I would feel frustrated at not being a member of this league and I resented that. One fine rummy day, I took a leap of faith from my staple reads of Hardy B...

Of sport, music, and dance.

Having born into a TamBrahm family, it was a default that I had to be surrounded by these three elements. Apart from the constant exhortation to ‘succeed’ in our grades at school, due to the alignment that we are part of (I do not want to use the word caste), our conversations hinged and revolved on majorly these three topics. Granted, there were exceptions according to each household and each parental mindset, but either all, or one, at the least, of these, were definitely a part of every TamBrahm household. Now, why am I ranting about these elements, in general or in separate? What spurred me to thrash out this piece on a non-eventful day? Why should I be putting these words to a screen for the world to read? How am I doing this (brace yourself for free advice on writing!)? When did the material for this piece (only intangible, unfortunately. I revel in them) originate? I will answer these questions, and you , the reader, be the judge of whether to skim, scan, or sprint from this pie...

Forks.

There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat, And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose all our ventures. These lines were spoken by Shakespeare through the guise of Brutus in 'Julius Caesar'. Had my high-school English text not contained lessons on Shakespeare's plays, my thoughts would never have been influenced or widened to the level it currently has been now. The above quote has been one of many that I have tried to understand and also could relate myself to, during my trysts with life's curves. Being an open-minded person comes with its own travails. Acquaintances dismiss you off with a wave of the hand or a shrug of the face whenever you contradict society's opinion. Friends do not quite grasp your flight of thoughts and utter all-too-familiar refrains of exasperation. To ride all this a...

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