Well if you are a Bengali then you would know what hatekhari is but for all the other people who do not know
what it is or for bongs who haven’t undergone this ‘stuff’ it can be translated
as ‘initiation to writing’ or ‘beginning of writing’(ummmm?) Well perhaps we do
not actually begin to ‘write’ right after the initiation because we pass
through a phase of developing a consciousness about ‘writing’. We gradually
evolve as we try to hone our skills so that our verbs and adverbs, adjectives and
tense are falling in place and we are syntactically correct. But so much so for
all those who initially teach us to write. But is writing merely syntactical?
No! It is ethical too. Can we develop a certain sense of ‘ethics of writing’ as
we climb up the crowded stairs of school? It is a difficult question to answer
(or is it?). A few may but most of us are provided with a readymade solution in
form of sample essays and answers by our venerable private tutors or the
coaching centres simulating within us only a sense of potency(perhaps that is the
reason why so many of us fffffail to perform or we celebrate monogamy! Later,
on a fruitless night, we say to our spouse, “ You know darling perhaps I am not
good at everything but once in class 11 I had written a very good essay on The Importance of Preserving and at that
age only I had the subtlety not to mention ‘the Nature’ part of it! Ah haha!
Such was your shona! I also used to
play cricket well or sing well! Then came the AIEEEs and AIPMTs and now I am
working as a Senior Sales Executive! Gave up everything! I actually dreamt of
playing guitar like Slash!”).
“That
writing never happened.”
Even after this there are people who have to write. It is a
compulsive disorder. Well! We have to write because we have to submit our
papers and churn marks out of shit! Write because some venerable organization
with a few gandu policy makers think
that it is the only paradigm of excellence! We skore out of it although there is a birth of a nothing. We take precaution not to produce anything by our act of
writing except for a retarded score. But even this cannot prevent the academic
world from being overpopulated with worthless Edmunds!!
Why
bastard? wherefore base?
When my dimensions are as well compact(MLA/APA/CHICAGO),
My mind as generous, and my shape as true(ISSN/ISBN),
As honest intellectuals issue? Why brand they us
With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
More composition and fierce quality
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops.
When my dimensions are as well compact(MLA/APA/CHICAGO),
My mind as generous, and my shape as true(ISSN/ISBN),
As honest intellectuals issue? Why brand they us
With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
More composition and fierce quality
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops.
-Fuck Lear, Fakespeare
But even then there are people who must write! More than
ever at this point of time when writers are being persecuted by all sorts of
fanatic forces! History proves that writers have always been feared. Oh
Solzhenitsyn! A writer is happy so long as he chooses to be happy and nothing
can stop him.
A great
writer is, so to speak, a second government in his country. And for that reason
no regime has ever loved great writers, only minor ones. (Alexander Solzhenitsyn, In The First Circle)
We must write because there is a
Palestine. We must write because Ananta is dead! We must be like Raktavijas-“He
from whom each drop of word is a seed”. With the death of each writer should be
the birth of one more! We must write because Bruno Schulz was killed. We must
write because Gramsci was imprisoned. We must write because we are forgetting
Bose. We must because Rushdie has written. We must write because Utpal was
smitten with freedom! We must write! We must write because Sandipan wrote! We
must write because we must fight! We must write because chitmahals were
merely exchanged! I must write because it purges me! I must write because it
merges me with the infinite! I must write because I have never written and I
have never been written! I must write even if I am killed! If you hack me into
pieces the pieces of my body lying on the street will form a contour of
writing! I must write! I must write because I am addicted and no one listens to
me except for my writing! I must write because I am a hypocrite and it is my
writing in which I am true with all my follies! I puke in my writing! I write
while I piss! Oh Writing! Writing is bliss! I come with my writing! I sleep
when I have written! I wonder if I have ever written! I fuck with my writing! I
jerk with my writing! I write because each and every moment the world writes on
me! So long I live this gives life to me! I write because someone challenged me
and I failed! I write because someone abused me! At times I write for the sake
of it! I write because I want to plead! I write because I want to bleed! It
cuts through me! I write! I write! I right! And I write because he wrote….
Why write I still all
one, ever the same,
And keep invention in a
noted weed,
That every word almost
doth tell my name,
Showing their birth, and
where they did proceed?
-The
Master, Sonnet 76 (no plagiarism)
(And
why do I even write… because he wrote?!)
by Arijit Mukherjee
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