Künstlerroman?

Human beings, while being individuals, are also social animals since it is but crucial to maintain relationships with other people in order to survive in an order or a system. One can be as fashionably introverted, be it influenced by the likes of Sheldon Cooper or Sherlock or otherwise, as they intend to, but at times even they have to wander outside of their fancy little cocoons in order to interact with the surrounding ‘environment’. Interaction with other people at multiple levels is crucial for one to be human in a very broad sense of the term. These interactions however, are not limited to a ‘type’ or formula which could be applied to all and sundry. No! They vary from person to person and the so-called typical interaction and its personal overtones change depending on the person one is conversing with.

This is where, I believe, the question of identity crops up. Identity can be seen as the kind of a person one is when he or she is with another individual, shaped by the perceptions each one has of the other in any given situation. For example, I being a student and interacting with a teacher would be different as compared to the same ‘I’ interacting with a friend. The interaction alters if and when the surroundings are different. I talk with my teacher differently in the presence of other students, than how I do when I am by myself. Little roles and the codes, be it of conversation, attitude or behaviour in general alter in relation to the people around an individual. People close to us such as father, mother or partner share a linguistic code with an individual which is strictly personal and could appear indecipherable to an outsider. In all these cases of interaction, the identity of the individual actually morphs its way from one to the other in a seamless manner. What actually remains, if there is a ‘type’ at all, is that of the fluid identity of the individual who has in themselves, imbibed bits and pieces of all the attributes from all the little ‘roles’ that they play on a regular basis.

Does identity only comprise who a person is when he or she is with someone else? In other words, is my identity derived through the process of mutual interaction with my fellow beings or does it have an intrinsic character to it? I would vouch for the view that the core of one’s identity lies mostly in how we relate to ourselves! The relationship that an individual has with him or herself largely determines the dynamics they share with other people. If the intrapersonal relationship with one’s own self is in constant sync then there should be no difficulty in sustaining the fluidity of one’s identity in relationship to other people irrespective of who they are. Therefore I would consider, the central and strongest aspect of my identity to be the relationship of me with my own body and mind. If we are true to who we are and can live with it then there is nothing to replace that sense of accomplishment and well-being. This is easier said than done as the mind is a foxy little thing and can very well play tricks on you. One needs to work these things out with oneself and with others in the most careful manner possible where one’s individuality and social togetherness are in tandem with each other. It is in times of fragmentation when we are unsure of the course of action we need to take that we have to ironically fall back on our own selves to transport us of the dark dungeons of pure self-indulgence. It is only if we are able to work things out with our own selves that we are able to navigate the little roles that society has bestowed us with. Thus, me and myself are always in a constant dialogue with one another which often induces reflections on the world around oneself.

If I see my writing as but an expression of the self, then I would say that what I write interrogates my identity to the same extent that my identity interrogates how I use words. Feel free to disagree but as someone who uses writing as a tool of self-expression, I strongly believe that it is out of this inner dialogue that the ‘creative’ in my writing is born.

Dance

Sharing a short little verse that I had written few days back in the train for Ink Elan

Image Courtesy: https://www.pathofshe.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/Imbolc-Teaching-Shadow-Dance-Blog-02-18-550×343.jpg

One fine Opportunity

The sporting dreams of millions in our country have been thwarted in the past owing to countless obstacles. Of late, Lady Fortune has finally turned her nonchalant head towards us with a blessing of hosting a grand event. Hope we, INDIANS can take this a launchpad to give the countless sporting dreams a decent trajectory.

I wrote this article for the lovely folks at Ink elan– check out our page and leave us a ‘like’ for your daily dose of beautiful art.

Here’s the link to my post

“One fine Opportunity” (click it)

Please leave your feedbacks, they are important to me.

I dedicate this writing to the sports fraternity of my country— let us unite so that we may prosper by leaving the obstacles behind!

Single Leg Amputee Sports Club (SLASC)

image courtesies

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The Last Ball

Two groups of women were battling for supremacy on a foreign turf. But, the fight, irrespective of the context, seemed familiar to many others who observed it from a great distance. The world had never seen anything like this before.                                                   Like many other high-born women, Raima was also traditionally sold into another household.   Putting her dreams in the dumpster, she took charge of the kitchen during day and kisses during the night. The noble Pal bongsho had just acquired a new scapegoat.

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The match was nearing a nail-biting conclusion when the gods of thunder from all mythologies joined heads and decided to intervene. The ominous clouds came from all directions to dampen their spirits. To their utter shock, nothing could deter the spirits of these amazons.                                                                                                                             Raima wanted to be a player herself but failed, as maintaining a chaste demeanour was considered more important than the very unwomanly barbarianism she was interested in.

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It was a do or die situation now, the last moment of action would seal the fate. On one side, a burly lady was charging in to deliver at a great pace and accuracy; on the other hand, a meek Raima was attempting her first roti. Stakes were high: pride of the team and the soshur-bari were at stake on both the sides. The lady delivered with great pace but it was dispatched with equal vigour. Raima flamed one side of the roti for far too long: it was burnt!

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The girls’ team were distraught, it was the first time they had reached such a stage but couldn’t capitalise on it. Raima was shocked on seeing the shape of the roti and had started imagining the unimaginable.

Just when everything was falling apart, the girls saw the entire stadium giving them a standing ovation. Kottababu was taken aback by Raima’s grim look. He went beside her, smiled and said “ashte ashte hobe” and hugged her tight.

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It was then that these women realised, the apparent defeat is just another stepping stone for success.

What if a war is lost? The battle is there to be won!

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Glossary

bongsho-family

roti– a type of flatbread

soshur-bari– in-laws’ house

kottababu– head of the family

ashte ashte hobe-give it time

Image Courtesies

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