For the First Time.....I am looking in your eyes...

No sentiments here, because I really don't know why I'm blogging. But I'd like to see where it takes me. I'd like to see how much of my right brain gets to see the light of day when I start writing. Even if Compulsive Blogging Syndrome ever becomes the reason to write.I'd like to find better reasons than that , to take up blogging. When I write, it takes me a few lines to leave behind my inherent and induced and conditioned left-brained thinking. Sometimes, till the end of the piece, it's still my left brain talking. Blogging is a part of my efforts in trying to unlearn such patterns of thought. School and College have done their duty in developing logical, quantitative and analytical skills in me. The only expression for my soul was through music, all my life. But those beautiful moments of contact with my soul make me want to find other ways of staying in touch with it. Writing is surely one of them. The only writing I did until recently was in the form of essays we were told to write in School and College. But obviously, it takes more than verbal skills to get that one moment of connectivity. It wasn't untill fate flung me into a college situated in the foothills of the Western Ghats, that I started some awe-induced writing.

Having been in big cities all my life, the contrast between nature (original, raw, natural.......... how does one describe something so pure..) and the concrete jungle ( where i've lived all my life) was so stark that it took me a good 2 months to fully take in the contrast. From then started this journey of watching my reactions and sorting them out as natural and induced. I would've never learnt my true identity had I been in a city through my B.E years. In a city, there's always somebody around to talk to, some work waiting to be done, someone calling in, someone dropping by, some books waiting to be read, some music waiting to be listened to. There's also love and comfort to be found at home. In that remote village, there was only solitude. No Television. No Music. ( at least not for a coupla months when I lost my walkman's battery charger). No Books ( books would come back to you in tatters.. dog-eared. . ANY book changes quite a few hands in the hostel ). And no love at home to come back to. I'm not the types to go "hang out" in a place even in the city, but in college, the usual hang-outs were waterfalls, rivers, hanging bridges, little hillocks, winding paths through swaying paddy fields. Only me and those mist-covered mountains.( yes, Dire Straits is one of my favorites). Most of the time, it rained there, and all plans of going out were subject to the discretion of the rain god. So there were long hours of ...solitude .That's when those feeble voices in my head became audible. Wonderful things happen when the mind's eye is turned inwards. I'm now back in the city, but the big jigsaw puzzle in my brain now finally hints at a picture. Of course, some pieces still haven't fallen in place, but all in good time.

Peace and joy.