The long and short of it: Published and still running
I am a published writer now.
Here here here ....
What if it's only 350 of the initially 1200 words written? What if the world is not heralding me as the writer of the millennium? What if the governments of different countries have not come forth to support my skills, talent, and intuitive intelligence? What if I am writing this blog early in the day when I should be finishing my thesis, writing the novel of the century, or the definitive collection of short stories?
I derive pleasure out of small things in life; in this case, a 350 word article in a weekly magazine. Courtesy good friends, Aa. and P., I got to celebrate the moment as if I had been nominated for the Nobel. I might never get a Nobel but I definitely know how it would feel if I got one.
After waking up with hangover, clinging on to a vodka soiled copy of Tehelka, and wondering where the fans (read: young boys and girls who would willingly sit at my feet desperately awaiting words of wisdom) are, I decided to evaluate my position as a 'writer' critically.
While re-reading the 350 words I had written for the 600th time, I struck me that there was something disturbing about it after all. To state the obvious, my piece is about running which I have taken up a few months back, I enjoy running so much that I have given up smoking, a habit of 13 years, to be able to run better, and I can have long conversations about different techniques of running. Not writing, mind you. All this makes me very healthy. My lungs are swelling, not lacking breath, but the new found vigour they have.
All this also makes me share a lot in common with Haruki Murakami. That is slightly disturbing.
He runs. He took up running when he became a writer (there is a slight difference here with me). He took up running to be able to quit smoking.
Read here what the man has to say http://www.runnersworld.com/article/0,7120,s6-243-297--8908-0,00.html
Do not get me wrong, I think Murakami is a fantastic writer. For a year, a few years back, I was totally enchanted by his surrealistic plots where nothing happens in concrete, real terms but a lot seems to be unfolding in parallel universes. I, particularly, found the literary liberties he takes to make beautiful, strange, divine, characters to jump out of walls to have brilliant sex with the protagonists. I have been looking for a wall as such for a very long time now. What brought my relationship with Murakami moments to a tumultuous end was the realization, almost sudden, that all his plots have a very distinct similarity. He deals with fantastic, fantastically, but somewhere he has exhausted all his possibilities of dealing with anything else.
My problem with running, writing, and sharing that predicament with Murakami is that, I began to realize, that I was, more often than not, digressing into the realms of the fantastic while running. My possibilities for any other realm were (or probably already are) very limiting and limited.
Take for instance the conscious and very healthy imaginations I have when on my runs.
One involved - and trust me when I was running and thinking about it, not for a moment I thought it was something fantastic. It had real possibilities for me - meeting Rahul Bose in Singapore airport (don't ask me why Singapore?), having long conversations which lead to our solid friendships over the years. We travel between Delhi and Mumbai to catch up with each other, the bond of friendship only getting stronger, and after a few years, as it happens with good friends, we fall in love (he first, desperately and madly) and decide to spend the rest of our lives together. The last frame of this fantastic journey saw me sharing space with Rahul on the Cannes red carpet.
The second was slightly more bizarre. It had someone approaching me to sponsor my training, for well .. ehrm, running, well, to prepare me for the 2012 Olympics. Yes. Yes. I know. But that is not where it ended. It saw me approaching the last leg, cutting through the ribbon, and breaking into hysterical sobs for winning the Olympic Gold.
My only real explanation for this is: maybe I really want to go to London, subconsciously. Maybe, consciously, I should realize that there are easier, and more real, ways to get to London.
I have very few things to say for myself. Henceforth, I shall write. Hopefully, realistically.
Comments
Rahul Bose?? Oh fo. Anyway -- I liked the 350 words that Tehelka published. They almost tempt me to go running myself in the mornings. Did they edit it down themselves or leave it to you?
May your running yet lead you to the idea for a (fantasy?) novel.
in-between-sound-and-silence
@ 15.02.2009 23:46 CETP. is responsible for the brilliant editing. Things as such should not be left to me.
Yeah, Rahul Bose ... short, fit, intelligent men have their appeal after all.
Running fantasy ... hmmm ... I shall ponder about it during tomorrow's run!
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