Inspired - by the raven who barks

It has been a while since I had gone to a person's blog, much less read one back to back. A series of arbit reactions - or should I call them being driftwooded through life? - led me to the blog of a bloke who left a comment in my previous posts.

Knowing that he is from my friendly neighbourhood school piqued my curiosity. So did the obvious indications that he is aware of the canine species. So did the fact that he looks like one of the juniors in my committee - may be a relative?

So, on the night of a cultural show for juniors, ignoring the frayed nerves of my batchmates, stubbonly forgetting about the readings and quiz the next day - hey, when else to take a break than the time the entire world wants a piece of you ? - I methodically went through the blog, line by line, angst by angst, went through three years of his life.

Did I say angst? In his blog was the recurring theme of sadness, of loss, and yet, a sense of equanimity in the face of all. In that was a call for help, and the hand that was stretched out for help had it's talons ready to kill anyone who dared to venture near.

Finding such a common thread through the blog, atleast through his better posts, set me thinking. I went back to my blogs, to find what was my recurring emotion. I was able, to find a thread running through these posts. And in my poetry blog too, the emotions are of the same hue, of the same tone.

I thought about the times when the few bloggers I like to revist blog. All of their good posts are connected by a common emotion. And the emotions are mostly dark, and some are positively depressing.

Is it that our blogs allow us to express a part of us that, according to us is less than perfect? A part, due to exposure to those who love us, will be a burden on our loved ones? A part which may make us more sentimental - and weak, my friend, is the corollary of that emotion according to us the society - or more mad?

In our blogs, we are free to be what we want to be. We can cry out for help, as I have done many a times, and was once pulled out of a very toxic relationship - toxic like a psychedelic drug, sold with the statutory warning on the cover and giving you all the highs you need, but when withdrawn, leaves you a snivelling wreck - by a doctor who was in Canada - whom I am never going to meet .

I can tell my friends what I may have difficulties in admitting in real world. I can be retrospective as much as I want. When I convert my life into a size 12 font, I learn perspective, and looking back, I know that I will be unscathed, yet again, ready to enjoy life.

As for those people whom I meet only via a URL, I am free to redefine myself. I do not have to put on perfume or dress up, I do not have to pout or sniff, or even scream. I wait here, secure in the knowledge that they will eventually drop in, take their share of my life from this common pool, and if inclined, will leave something of theirs back.


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