Tag / Essay

by whatsonsidsmind

The False Promise of Power in a Patriarchal World | Essay on Women’s Day

Written by: Siddhartha Krishnan | 3 Min Read

A discussion on gender equality and women’s rights is incomplete without acknowledging the 50% stakeholders in this debate—men. For they are not just participants but both beneficiaries and victims of the same oppressive system called patriarchy. If anyone in their right mind truly seeks to dismantle this system, they must take the bold step toward a more inclusive, honest conversation.

In my own experience, I have seen this drama play out in offices and homes, where much of the dialogue is mere lip service. Women are celebrated for their sacrifices, their ability to multitask, their emotional intelligence—yet how long will this rhetoric at homes and these hollow cultural programs in offices, designed to reinforce their “place,” continue? Women are awakening, at least those with access to opportunity. But men—men are the true losers here. They have failed to evolve, trapped in a system they believe serves them, when in reality, it robs them of their humanity. They are told they must not cry, must not express vulnerability. Their worth is measured only by their ability to earn, to take their rigid place at the head of the dinner table—the provider, the unshakable rock.

But this is a lie. A lie that has persisted for too long. Men know it, yet lack the courage to challenge a structure they believe works in their favor. And it is not just men who uphold this system. Women, too, are complicit—raising sons to believe they are gifts to the world, oppressing other women who are subordinate in this hierarchy. The truth is clear: this was never about gender alone. It was always about power. A power that sustains incompetent leaders, corrupt politicians, self-appointed gatekeepers—soulless figures who have traded their conscience for control.

And yet, the way forward is not just in recognizing oppression but in celebrating those who challenge it. There is an urgent need to amplify the voices of men who have chosen to break free, who have rejected the roles handed to them and become true partners—at home, at work, and in society. These men are not doing anything extraordinary. They are simply doing what is right in an equal, humane world. But human nature craves examples. People need to see others take the first step before they dare to follow. Women who demand equality must also recognize and speak of the men in their lives who have had the courage to embrace it. Change is contagious, but only when it is made visible.

In short, this nonsense must end. And it ends with you. You can choose to deny it, ignore it, close your door to it—but do so at your peril. Or you can choose to open that door, to open your mind, and reclaim the humanity stolen from both men and women. Do it not just for your daughters, but for your sons. Because a world that chains men to a false ideal of masculinity is just as broken as one that subjugates women. And no one—no one—wins in such a world.

Happy Women’s Day!

— Siddhartha Krishnan
(Author – Two and a Half Rainbows)

***

About the author –

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of ‘Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories’. An enthusiastic blogger he shares his articles, essays, travelogues, book and movie reviews on his blog (www.whatsonsidsmind.com).

by whatsonsidsmind

Revisiting the Golden Age of Malayalam Cinema in the Era of its Renaissance

Sreenivasan (left) in Vadakkunokkiyantram (1989) and Fahadh Faasil (right) in Maheshinte Prathikaram (2016)

Written by Siddhartha Krishnan | 7 Min Read

The love and appreciation showered upon Malayalam films worldwide is unprecedented. It’s mind-boggling to see cinephiles in distant lands dissecting and reviewing our cinema with fervor. But as an ardent fan and a Malayalee who grew up in the 90s watching the golden age of our films unfold, I am worried. Let me tell you why.

Malayalam cinema hasn’t always been like this. Before the 80s, mainstream Malayalam films often bordered on being obscene, focusing more on titillation than substance. In the late 90s and early 2000s, our industry tried to mimic its Southern counterparts, churning out cheap imitations that disappointed audiences. This was a dark period marked by aging superstars and seasoned filmmakers losing their touch.

The renaissance was ushered in by a new wave of filmmakers and actors influenced by world cinema close to 2010. This evolution continues today. Thanks to OTT platforms, the world has discovered our films. This year, Malayalam cinema has shattered glass ceilings, achieving global box office success and critical acclaim. It feels like our time has finally come.

Yet, this success makes me anxious. As someone raised on the classics of the 80s and 90s, I hope we don’t lose the essence that made our cinema special.

So what makes Malayalam cinema different?

Malayalam cinema stands out due to its authenticity, grounded storytelling, and commitment to addressing relevant social issues. Unlike formulaic approaches, it remains deeply rooted in its cultural context. This success is driven by exceptional writers, talented technicians, visionary directors, and naturally gifted actors who bring these stories to life with aplomb.

This authenticity and cultural resonance are evident in both the films of the 80s and 90s and those of today. The golden era, however, distinguished itself with a few unique traits.

Directors, constrained by tight budgets, often shot in real village locations. This choice not only saved costs but also forged a deeper connection between the audience and the characters. While parallel cinema in Kerala addressed serious issues, much like in other states, Malayalam commercial cinema integrated these themes with a satirical edge. This blend gave rise to some of the finest comedy films, introducing us to beloved characters and situational humor. It was integral to the narrative, and not just there to provide relief between serious scenes.

The presence of naturally gifted actors made the storytelling compelling, while dialogues, often improvised, mirrored the everyday speech of the common man, enhancing the films’ realism and relatability. The screenplay was free-flowing, natural, and not sanctimonious, despite taking on social issues. If Malgudi days and Wagle ki Duniya were to have a child it would look like Malayalam cinema, but with its unique characteristics.

Here are five classics that perfectly balance realism, humor, and social commentary:

Vadakkunokkiyantram (1989) –

Actors Sreenivasan and Parvathy in a scene from Vadakkunokkiyantram

This black comedy explores the life of an insecure man plagued by doubts about his more attractive wife. Tormented by his average looks, he becomes suspicious of any man who interacts with her. Starring Sreenivasan and Parvathy, and written and directed by Sreenivasan himself, this film is a quintessential classic in the genre. (available on Amazon Prime)

Varavelpu (1989) –

A scene from Varavelpu

Directed by Sathyan Anthikad and written by Sreenivasan, this film follows Murali, a simpleton who returns from the Gulf after seven arduous years. Hoping to start a bus service in his hometown with his savings, he faces opposition from relatives eyeing his money and discovers that doing business locally is fraught with challenges. Featuring an outstanding performance by Mohanlal and a superb ensemble cast, this film initially struggled at the box office but has since achieved cult status. (available on Amazon Prime)

Nadodikkattu (1987) –

Mohanlal and Sreenivasan in Nadodikkattu

After being fired from their jobs, Dasan and Vijayan decide to pursue their dreams in Dubai. They are put on a boat by a man who assures them that by morning they will be on the shores of Dubai. However, he turns out to be a trickster and they land in Chennai instead, leading to a series of comedic misadventures. Directed by Sathyan Anthikad, this satire transformed Dasan (Mohanlal) and Vijayan (Sreenivasan) into two of the most beloved characters in Malayalam cinema. (available on YouTube)

Mithunam (1993) –

A scene from Mithunam

Sethu dreams of starting a biscuit factory but is thwarted at every turn by corrupt bureaucracy. His troubles don’t end there; he must also navigate the chaos of his dysfunctional family and a complaining wife who feels neglected. Directed by Priyadarshan, the film weaves together a series of comedic events, highlighting the struggles in both Sethu’s personal and professional life. (available on Disney+Hotstar)

Sandesam (1991) –

A scene from Sandesam

This political satire follows a retired engine driver who returns home hoping for a peaceful life with his family. However, he discovers that his two eldest sons, both lawyers, have abandoned their professions to become party workers for rival political factions. The brothers, unable to see eye to eye, are constantly scheming against each other. While the film is a laugh riot for most of its runtime, it turns grim towards the end, delivering a poignant message about political polarization and its potential to destroy a family. Directed by Sathyan Anthikad, this film is my favorite on the list. (available on Disney+Hotstar for free)

The aim of the above list is not to boast about filmography or create a ‘favorite’ films list, but to highlight a key point: Malayalam filmmakers have masterfully addressed a variety of socially relevant topics, seamlessly blending humor into their storytelling while preserving realism and simplicity.

Even in genres like psychological and investigative thrillers, horror, tragedy, courtroom dramas, and socio-political dramas, the need for authentic, real, and simple storytelling remains paramount. Here are five classics from the more serious genres:

Kireedam (1989) –

Mohanlal in Kireedam

Sethumadhavan aspires to fulfill his father’s dream of becoming a sincere police officer. However, a fateful scuffle with a criminal to save his father’s life thrusts him into the criminal world against his will. Overwhelmed by injustice and rage, he descends into madness, and ultimately gets abandoned by his family. Directed by Sibi Malayil, this film won Mohanlal a national award and was later remade in six languages, including Hindi, Tamil, Telugu, Kannada, and Bengali. (available on Disney+Hotstar for free)

Dasharatham (1989) –

Scene from Dasharatham

Rajiv, a man born with a silver spoon, is an alcoholic who wastes his life in debauchery, with no aim and no one to call his own. When a friend visits with his family, Rajiv forms an attachment to one of the children, sparking a desire to have his own. Unwilling to marry, he turns to surrogacy. He finds Chandradas and Annie, a couple in need of money. Annie agrees to be the surrogate, but as she becomes attached to the unborn child, she struggles with the idea of parting with it. Considered one of the best films by writer-director duo Lohithadas and Sibi Malayil, this tragedy delves into profound philosophical themes. (available on YouTube)

Oru CBI Diary Kurippu (1988) –

A scene from Oru CBI Diary Kurippu

Directed by K. Madhu, this investigative thriller revolves around the suspicious suicide of a rich businessman’s daughter-in-law, likely a murder. With numerous suspects within the businessman’s family, and the businessman using his influence to suppress the truth, the case becomes complex. The victim’s family protests, leading to the CBI taking over the investigation. Mammootty plays the meticulous investigating officer, Sethurama Iyer, who unravels the case amidst numerous hurdles. The film showcases the intricacies of police work, the nexus between the wealthy and the establishment, and the process of forensic investigations. It spawned five sequels and was remade in Telugu and Hindi. (available on Disney+Hotstar for free)

Bharatham (1991) –

A scene from Bharatham

Another collaboration between Sibi Malayil and Lohithadas, this film explores the strained relationship between two brothers, Raman and Gopi, who hail from a musical heritage. Gopi, the elder, and more renowned brother, succumbs to alcoholism, losing his acclaim. Raman reluctantly steps up to uphold the family’s musical legacy, causing tension as Gopi resents his deteriorating condition and refuses to pass the baton. This musical family drama features stellar Carnatic classical and semi-classical music, marking an iconic collaboration between music director Raveendran and singer KJ Yesudas. The film’s songs, and the performances of lead actors Mohanlal (Kalloor Gopi) and Nedumudi Venu (Kalloor Raman), are timeless. (available on Disney+Hotstar for free)

Thaniyavartanam (1987) –

Mammootty in Thaniyavartanam

This film revolves around Balan, a government school drawing teacher, and his family. He belongs to an upper-caste joint family believed to be cursed by a goddess. A male from each generation is destined to become mentally ill and be chained in a room. This curse has left the family isolated and impoverished, trapped by their own beliefs. Despite Balan’s sanity, he too falls prey to this cycle. The film, a hard-hitting social drama blending elements of horror, powerfully critiques how we become slaves to our beliefs. It is a powerful social commentary on how even the sanest can be driven into insanity by a mob. It also questions the absurdity of what we believe is normal. (available on Amazon Prime)

So what is that we are afraid of losing from Malayalam cinema?

I introduced my wife to Malayalam cinema a year into our marriage, which was 13 years ago. OTT platforms were still an emerging concept in India then. I had managed to find a decent copy of Vadakkunokkiyantram with English subtitles, believing it would be the perfect introduction given her taste in films. However, I was wary because the cinematic language of Malayalam films is quite distinct from what people in the Hindi heartland are accustomed to.

To my surprise, she loved it and raved about it to her friends and relatives for days. Over the years, she watched many more Malayalam films, often on her own, as our tastes in movies are diametrically opposite. Now, she even recommends films to me. Recently, two films she holds dear are Home (2021) and Njan Prakashan (2018).

Last weekend, in preparation for this essay, I decided to ask her what she thought made Malayalam cinema different. Her reply left me smiling. She said that in Malayalam cinema, the story is paramount. Every other aspect of filmmaking seamlessly blends with the story, ensuring nothing stands out unnecessarily. Even the performances serve the story. In essence, the film is entirely the director’s vision, not dominated by actors or technicians.

This is a characteristic that Malayalam filmmakers should strive to preserve while embarking on uncharted territories. Films like Maheshinte Prathikaram (2016), Kumbalangi Nights (2019) and Ee.Ma.Yau (2018) from this era restore faith that there is a sincere effort being made to keep the soul of our films alive.

Undoubtedly, the inventiveness and technical prowess of the new generation of filmmakers and actors make us proud, but at the same they must not forget what made our cinema different at the first place. Arundhati Roy’s quote comes to mind in this regard: “To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple.”

To conclude –

Our cinema is an integral part of our popular culture. For us the story is above all else. Its characters weren’t demi-gods or demi-goddesses; they were people like us. And yet they managed to entertain us. While we might have felt a distance from the stars who played those characters, we never felt distant from the characters themselves. They weren’t larger than life; they were people like us, living in houses like ours, eating, speaking, and leading lives like ours. This simplicity helped our films stay grounded and connect with everyone. I hope this essence is not lost in the mist of box office glory.

About the author –

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of ‘Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories’. He is also an enthusiastic blogger, and on his blog (www.whatsonsidsmind.com), he shares his essays, travelogues, book and film reviews.

by whatsonsidsmind

Aloo Posto with Sambar and Rice | Memoirs of a Malayali in Kolkata | FB Live @ Purono Kolkatar Golpo

Inside a Durga Puja Pandal in Kolkata

By: Siddhartha Krishnan . 10 Min Read

I have been away from Kolkata for 14 years. However, I have often wondered why the city is still a part of me and despite not being Bengali, why do I yearn for so many things that are Bengali? So when I received an invitation to do an FB live session on my experiences in Kolkata from the FB group—Purono Kolkatar Golpo (a group comprising of Kolkatans from across the world), I was thrilled, as it gave me a chance to introspect and relive some important moments of my life (YouTube video of the FB live session below. Please skip to 4:40 mins since the talk only starts then).

Most of my memories of the 22 years that I had spent in Kolkata are centered around one place—7A Gokhale Road. They say “Nostalgia is a dirty liar which insists things were better than they seemed.” I agree because I am often guilty of remembering my past with the kind of fondness which I did not exhibit while experiencing them. Picture this—I used to live in a small two room apartment in a 100-year-old building in Kolkata and so, with it came the challenges—space constraints, water supply issues, maintenance problems and every now and then, whenever it rained in Kolkata (in the 90s), the streets were flooded with knee-deep water.

A Pic of Gokhale Road from my last visit in 2018

Thus, I was often found cribbing about my circumstances. However, now when I go to Kolkata and engage in a bit of “Adda” (informal/idle talk) with old friends, I am guilty of saying “Shei Ki Din Chilo! Ekhon aar koi?” (those were the days). What’s more my younger brother’s apartment at Rajarhat, blessed with all creature comforts, does not feel like Kolkata anymore. That to me feels like Whitefield or Electronic city in Bangalore—mundane, boring and lacking “the cultural heritage”. How strange is that? Well, I guess this kind of hypocrisy is intrinsic to human nature.

Nandan Cinema close to Gokhale Road

Since, Gokhale Road is such an integral part of my story in Kolkata, let me help you locate and visualize the place, although I know most Kolkatans would know of it.

So Gokhale Road is a quiet little street located in the heart of Kolkata between Sambhunath Pandit Street and A.J.C Bose Road with the Gol Mandir at one end and the Calcutta Club at the other. On this road the other big landmarks are the Institute of Engineers and the Army’s Recruitment Centre. In the vicinity we have some of the city’s iconic cultural landmarks like the Victoria Memorial, Nandan Cinema, St.Paul’s Cathedral and Netaji Bhawan. These were all within half a kilometer from my house.

Next to the Gurudwara (on Sambhunath Pandit Street) we have two of the most famous eateries of Kolkata – Balwant Singh’s Dhaba (known for its Dhoodh Cola) and Sharma Tea House (renowned for its small kachoris, jalebis and the heritage tea). Just across the road are the much-sought after Gujarati snack shops serving their delectable dhoklas, khandvis and mathris. So this gave an excuse to my father to never leave Gokhale Road and say— “When most people living in the city are dying to stay in this locality, why should I leave this place?”

An early morning pic of Victoria Memorial

Our 100-year-old building— “Krishnapriya Mansions” is in the middle of Gokhale Road. But the name on its façade has all but withered away over the years. However, I vividly remember that in the mid-nineties during a hartal (strike) while we were playing cricket on the street, a friend of mine had hit the ball toward the façade and that’s when I first realized that the building actually had a name! We had become accustomed to calling it the building opposite the police barracks.

Flat no: 24 in the A block of this building is the place is where I stayed. It is the place my grandfather after migrating from Palakkad (Kerala) some 2 years before the independence of India called home. That was a time when many Malayalis like him migrated to Kolkata in search of a better life. Kolkata was the city of opportunity in those days. So my grandfather periodically brought people from his hometown who were looking for a good education and were ambitious and hard-working. He was their support until they managed to settle down in the city. Flat no: 24, therefore, is the place my father, uncles and aunt were brought up and so my brother and I are the second generation in the family to have grown up there. Hence, we owe a lot to this place.

Much of what we are today is a direct result of the culture we have been brought up in. This culture manifests itself in the clothes we wear, the food we eat, the movies we watch and the books we read. And, like everyone else my first point of reference in these matters were my parents. My father who has spent all his life in Kolkata and despite having close ties with his native place in Kerala is more Bengali than many Bengalis I know today. On the other end of the spectrum is my mother, who is what I would call a “Pukka Malayali”. She married very young and came to Kolkata when she was around 20 years old. Hence, much of my childhood I have been witness to the dynamics of their relationship and the clash of cultures. My father at the time of his marriage knew very little Malayalam while my mother knew no other language other than Malayalam. As a result, I picked up the Bengali way of doing things from my father while clinging onto my roots in Kerala due to my mother. However, over the years I have seen my mother evolve and become more and more comfortable with the Bengali culture.

Authentic Bengali lunch at Kewpie’s Elgin Road

The manifestation of this clash was seen in all the things that we indulged in. Let me give you a few examples. The food on our plate was clearly an amalgamation of these cultures. It was not odd to find an “Aloo Posto” or “Aloo Chochodi” (typical veg dishes of Bengal) being served alongside “Sambar and Rice” (the quintessential South-Indian fare). Or for that matter a “Rui Macher Jhol” (much-loved fish curry of Bengal) served with a “Beans Thoran” (a humble beans dish eaten in South India). And, while packing a plate of kachoris from Sharma Tea House we would be mindful to pack a plate of “Vada” and Sambar from the Tamilian street food vendor next to the iconic eatery.

The iconic eatery Sharma Tea House

Such examples could also be found in the movies we watched. While I got a steady dose of the satirical Malayalam films of the 80s and 90s on Asianet, I did also get a generous dose of the movies of Ray. By the way closely observing my father explaining the subtle nuances of Ray’s movies while drawing references to English literature and parallels to Malayalam films are some of my fondest memories from childhood. But these discussions were limited to his friends while I remained a silent observer. However, I can safely say today that these experiences have left an indelible mark on my artistic leanings.

One more significant recollection from childhood is that of the “Shaka and Pola”. These beautiful coral and shell bangles from Bengal are now part of my family culture. Ever since my mother has been wearing them, all the women in our family have also been wearing them. They have found a way into the homes of people who have nothing to do with Bengal. This proves how subliminal culture can be.

How all of this has played out with me, shows in my habits. Although I have been away from Kolkata for so long, I do crave for my Kolkata Biriyani, Kathi Rolls, Macher Jhol and Bhoger Kichudi every now and then. But I do have a similar yearning for the quintessential Malayali dishes like Puttu, Aapam, Pazham Poori and Malabar fish curries. Twice a month I look forward to watching a Ray movie on YouTube while the same is true for a Sathyan Anthikad or Padmarajan film as well. And, “adda” with Bengali friends over the weekends is something I wait for eagerly. A call to their wives to prepare a Bengali dish specifically for me before these meetings is something I am not ashamed to admit. However, Bangalore being such a cosmopolitan city getting these things is not a difficult task.

The famous kachoris of Sharma Tea House

But how can any nostalgic journey of Kolkata be complete without a mention of Durga Puja? Those four days of the Puja every year are my favorite memories of growing up in Kolkata. My father, a chartered accountant by profession and usually a very busy man would get these four days off (Saptami, Ashtami, Navami and Dashami). But on these days he would exude a child-like exuberance which was otherwise absent in him. His office car would be at our disposal for the first half of these days. A cut out from the Telegraph newspaper charting out the route of all the famous pandals across Kolkata would be at our disposal. Each day was dedicated to a certain part of the city and we would start early in the morning around 7 a.m. Day 1 would usually be North Kolkata, starting either at Bagbazar or Kumartuli and driving all the way back to Mohammad Ali Park, thereby pandal hopping all the iconic North Kolkata pandals. This would invariably mean that lunch would be at Park Street, hence, either Chinese delicacies at “Peiping” or Biriyani at “Shiraz”.

Day 2 would be South Kolkata starting at “Ekdalia Evergreen” and ending at “Maddox Square” closer home. This would mean that a Punjabi lunch was on offer at the “Ballygunge Dhaba”. The remaining days were left to explore the award winning pandals of yester years and thus we would venture to places like Bosepukur and Lebutala. The idea was always to outdo our performance of the previous year. If we had visited 100 pandals the previous year, this year the count has to be 101! The crowded evenings on these days were dedicated to pandals in our vicinity and “adda” with friends outside “Gokhale Sporting Club Pujo”, since my father was not much of a crowd person.

Ekdalia Evergreen Durga Puja Pandal of 2012

But perhaps the most resounding memory of Durga Puja is of the day of Dashami when the Goddess bid adieu to us mortals. The memory is of the vermillion game or what the Bengalis call “Sindoor Khela”. On this day married women would throw vermillion on each other and the picture of my mother letting go of all her inhibitions and smothering vermillion on the faces of the Bengali women of our locality with fervor is still fresh in my mind. In return for her favors she would be covered in red herself. But by doing so, for that moment, she had managed to merge with the crowd or should I say merge with that culture?

All the above recollections of Kolkata, however, would not be complete without a mention of my school friends at St. Xavier’s Collegiate School and my “adda buddies” of Bhowanipore and Gokhale Road. The “Shikanji” after a grueling cricket match at the Calcutta Maidan, the ice-candy in the afternoon heat at school and breakfast at “Arun Da’s Canteen” at St. Xavier’s College would not have tasted so good without them. So a big heartfelt thank you to them for making these experiences so memorable and being part of my story in the “City of Joy”.

Gol Mandir at Gokhale Road

I’d like to end by saying that my story may be something new for Bengalis but I am sure that it will strike a chord with so many Malayalis I know who had once or still call the city their home. Hence, I am thankful to the FaceBook group – Purono Kolkatar Golpo for having given me this opportunity to take the trip down memory lane with their FB live and for giving me the chance to explain why Kolkata is still a part of me.

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of “Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories“. He is also an enthusiastic blogger and on his website www.whatsonsidsmind.com, he regularly puts out his essays, articles, travelogues and film reviews.

All rights reserved by http://www.whatsonsidsmind.com

by whatsonsidsmind

How I took to writing?

Writing

One afternoon in August last year, I sat down with my laptop and decided to pen down some thoughts. It was a Saturday and there were dark clouds looming in the skies of Bangalore. The weather exemplified the state of mind that I was in that day. It had been a terrible day for me on many counts.

I could have punched the wall a few times to vent out my frustration but previous attempts at the same hadn’t resulted in anything productive, except for a few bruised fingers. But then the decision to go for my laptop instead of the wall was purely instinctive. However, as I started writing I realized that I wasn’t really writing about the causes of my current rage but about a certain incident from my childhood!

Once I was done with the first paragraph, I stopped. Since, there was no one in the house I decided to read it aloud. I did so with full fervour. When I heard the words, it dawned on me that it sounded like a short story. There was then a sudden surge of energy which propelled me to keep going for the next few hours. I was determined to not stop until I was done with the story. I succeeded.

My previous attempts at writing had resulted in miserable failures. Hence, I wondered: What was different this time? Moreover, I hadn’t written an article but a short story. How? Why? I asked myself. The mystique of it all urged me further. I decided to keep at it. Over the next few weeks, I penned down a few more short stories. Miraculously, there was no dearth of ideas and no hindrances to my imagination. The words flowed languidly. It was as if a dormant corner of my brain had just become active.

I didn’t feel stressed during this whole exercise and penned down more than ten thousand words within two weeks. Also, making time for writing didn’t feel laboured despite my work and family commitments. This was extraordinary because I am usually guilty of uttering these famous words: “I don’t have time!”. Well, I was now done with five short stories inspired from certain incidents from my childhood. Writing was secretly filling a certain void in my life. What that void was? I will explain later.

Now, I needed a medium for validation. Hence, I got introduced to blogging. It provided me the ideal platform to reach out to my audience in an instant and seek feedback. The marketing and analytical tools that blogging websites provided were an added advantage. But I was an accidental blogger at that stage. A novice. My only intent behind blogging was to find the right people to critique my work and to test the waters.

What followed were long phone calls, WhatsApp chats, coffee table conversations, focus groups and subsequent deep introspection. The stories had managed to strike a chord with many of the readers. Yes, there was criticism as well. But then I didn’t get into this being delusional about my abilities. The intent was to get better with time.

I kept on writing and finding content wasn’t difficult because the stories were inspired from life. Hence, all I needed to do was to observe. Then it was a matter of recollecting, re imagining and expressing myself creatively. Thus, a conversation with dad, visit to a hospital, exploring unknown places, a chat with a random stranger or a late-night drive were all potential content for a story.

Past life experiences deeply en grained in my subconscious mind guided every thought. The only effort I made was to let go and explore like a child. To be instinctive and not overthink. The editorial effort to clean up the excesses could happen later, I reminded myself. The focus was to tell a good story.

Over time I made new friends. My network grew. The stories contributed to that. I even got an invite to conduct a blogging workshop for kids at a school (do check out my article “Back to school” to know more).  Initially, straying off the beaten track and stepping into uncharted territory did feel like venturing into wilderness with just a backpack and a steely resolve. But eventually the joy of discovering things on my own, prevailed over apprehension. Although, there is still a very long road ahead, I made it a point to celebrate my small achievements in this journey. Every time I read out a story to my wife or my four-year-old, it felt very fulfilling.

I must admit though writing was a very lonely process. It is just you and your thoughts. But you must persevere and not waver. The only question you must ask is,

“Is this the story that I set out to write?”.

If the answer is no, then make the corrections and get back on track. If the answer is “yes” then keep at it and continue. Try and make it better. Unfortunately, “better” does not have any boundaries. There is always scope for improvement. Constructive feedback from friends helps a lot here. So, build your network of ten friends to give you honest feedback.

But seek feedback only once you are done with your piece. Seeking feedback half-way through is not advisable since, people might not get the message of your story and things could get lost in translation. That said, always be open to ideas and be ready to rewrite. It could be exhausting but it is worth it. But don’t compromise on the concept and the messaging, because that is what compelled you to write the story at the first place.

I had earlier mentioned about a void that writing managed to fill. The void is nothing but our inability to express in our daily lives. It is not a hidden fact that we are all actors. We act to survive. When we deal with family, colleagues and community in general we are forced to be diplomatic. There is a lot of talking that we do, but are robbed of our right to express our thoughts truthfully. Let’s face it, we live in a ruthless world where truth has no place. Opinions do. In writing I found a medium to express my real and naked thoughts.

Hence, through my characters, locations, atmospherics and plot twists I was able to express myself fully. Yes, I did conceal the thoughts under various genres, fictional characters and settings. This way I could say what I wanted to and still get away with it. It felt, “Bloody good!”.

But then, writing also gave me the opportunity to relive certain moments from the past, correct the wrongs, learn from mistakes and grow as a person. Hence, it became a process of self-discovery for me.

So next time you read my story, you might find me concealed within the words!

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by whatsonsidsmind

The Storyteller

Storyteller

Many years ago, there was an inquisitive child. He loved to hear stories. Every year during school vacations when he visited his hometown in Kerala, he would spend days at the house of “the storyteller”. The storyteller was none other than his aunt. She would narrate him stories of mysterious happenings, which would have invariably unfolded close to her house. Hence, the banyan tree near the entrance, the abandoned mill at a distance or the incessant barking of stray dogs at night were all part of her stories.

The stories ranged from ghostly apparitions to alien invasions and from witch hunts to haunted houses. But it was not the story per say which would keep the child engaged. It was the way in which they were being told. The impact of which was so great that the child would be unable to sleep at night. Every time the trees swayed in the wind or the dogs howled at night, a shiver would go down his spine.

Although, the stories left him frightened, he would still be keen to hear more. The sheer brilliance of the storytelling kept him engaged. When he went back to the city after his vacations, he would narrate these stories to his school friends and observe their reaction closely. He tried to imitate his aunt as much as he could and when he managed to grab their attention his joy knew no bounds. This would go on for days until he heard the next interesting story.

That little child was me.

But my aunt wasn’t the only great storyteller in my life. My mother who told me the first stories I ever heard, my father who narrated stories of his travels across the country, my classmate who told me about his heartbreak and the movies which mesmerized me were all equally great storytellers. When I close my eyes for a minute and recall all the memorable incidents of my life, these moments figure prominently in my recollections.

Now, let me urge you to go back to your childhood. Weren’t there great storytellers in your life just like my aunt? I am sure there were. Those people in your lives who would have told you fabulous tales of magical brooms, haunted castles, fairy godmothers, divine interventions and devious poltergeists. We are sometimes guilty of undermining the contribution of these people in our lives. For the stories we hear often shape our thinking. Sometimes even determine our actions. But most importantly they make our otherwise mundane lives interesting.

If you don’t believe me, the next time someone narrates you an interesting incident that happened in your colony, make an effort to notice the excitement that it kindles within you. In other words, we might still be surrounded by good story tellers, without us even realizing their value in our lives.

If weekend parties were only about the booze, don’t you think it would be boring? Isn’t it also about that one friend in the gang who has interesting stories to narrate? So next time, you are in the company of friends, relatives or colleagues; ask yourself who is the great storyteller in this group? Acknowledge his or her role in your life.

Jimmy Neil Smith, founder and president emeritus of the International Storytelling Center said, “We are all storytellers. We all live in a network of stories. There isn’t a stronger connection between people than storytelling.”

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