My blog hates me. It’s true! I don’t blame it either – If I was my blog, I would feel like the neglected half of a dysfunctional relationship. And to think that I only return here on occasions, only makes it worse.

So, about twenty minutes before my 24th birthday, I want to say sorry to my blog. And to my dream of writing, because lately I’ve let the elusive and leisurely idea of a ‘block’ influence me into not writing. What made me change my mind?

It’s something I heard earlier today. Something my colleague told me about. See, the whole reason I started writing apart from a childish fantasy of mine, was because I believed in the power of human empathy. I’m someone who cries at an emotional movie. I cried while reading ‘Three mistakes of my life’ – the part where Ali says he’d rather be an Indian for all his lives, rather than bowing down to the great Indian aspiration and get rich.

Since this is an honest disclosure, I’m not going to lie and tell you or my blog that I’m innocent in this context. Like many people I know, I too have a knack of running after money. It has been built into me like a way of life – although I did not grow up in abject poverty, I have seen a phase of life where I couldn’t buy those little luxuries for myself because we didn’t have surplus money. And for the last few days, I’ve been avoiding writing something potentially spectacular only because I had my doubts about how much it would hold out financially.

Anyways, back to what I heard this morning. There was a 3 day old baby boy found in an open dustbin behind Orion Mall in Bangalore recently. With a slit throat. Evidently, somebody left the baby to die for reasons which we’ll never know for sure. In my country, in the country that you & I live in – both you and me know, that in the absence of divine intervention, this baby is destined to die. But that didn’t happen.

A 19 year old college student found the baby. He didn’t ignore the situation as many of us ignore road accidents. He did not flinch before dropping everything on his schedule. He carried the baby to the nearest hospital, which reportedly denied being involved in what they called a possibly shady affair.

This college kid then took the baby to the Ramaiah Hospital. Upon knowing about the sky-high price for treatment, he went out and pawned his gold chain to raise the money. Again, he did not have time to stop and consider this, which was a boon. He just did it anyway. He raised the money. The baby lives.

My love for literature began as a selfless journey, and then somehow got entangled in a web of aspirations. I cannot promise that I will fix myself on that scale completely over the next one year, but I will try. I will try to be less narcissistic, more understanding in my work. And I will get back to doing what I started. Writing for a reason, however obscure and far-fetched that may be.

Maybe the spirit of halloween will forgive me then.

Happy Birthday, Shomprakash Sinha Roy.

And Happy 5th Birthday to Pedestrians, the band.