Chain reactions

My niece, wise girl-woman, commented on my post. I discovered her blog through this and was drawn into her world. I read about cricket and memories, posted a few comments. I admired her wit and intuitive ability to take her readers to heights and plunge them to the depths intense feeling. Thankful.

In one of her posts,she wondered aloud if she should have a theme for the blog and if that was the reason for her sparse posts. I started to write back and in doing so answered my own question, identical as it was.

This is my 5th blog: there is one for my little girls in Andheri, one for my students to revive, one in memory of Amma, one for my activist avatar and now, this one.

Why so many? Because I am many things to myself and to the people in my life. Therefore my lens changes, my perspective changes as does my voice.

I used to struggle with this thought of themes and audience and purpose. Labelled boxes that formal writing packs my thoughts into, make me think of this before I start.

Then I remember a cold winter evening that I spent sifting through my 25 journals. I had found myself in the pages. The me who would have otherwise have been lost. Each and every Rashmee was there from 1991 until now.

The Rashmee I knew and loved then has become the Rashmee I know and love now. I cannot be this without also being that. It is because I was that then is why I am this not.

“The social world is accumulatedhistory.” Pierre Bourdieu reminds us.
And all the bits and pieces of me are here right now. And some of them have to get back to that presentation.

Look, little one, look what you started. Keep writing.