In the presence of a writer

In the presence of a writer


Writing and reading, two things I cannot do without. I am an amateur writer trying to find meaning and purpose in life among many other things by writing and bringing my thoughts to life. Sometimes I write by imagining people, their lives and sometimes its all unintentionally about me. So are writers narcissistic? Or are writers simply special creatures who can express better than the average mortal. Have we been ordained by higher powers to use the medium of language, the thick broth of words seasoned and flavored to capture the senses of all who read. At least this is what we strive to do.

Recently I had the opportunity to attend a South Asian pacific writers program where Asian writers from all over the world gathered around. They read select passages from their memoirs or conversations between characters in their books. Every pause, every word soaked the audience with a wonderful feeling. One passage was about a domestic help and her seemingly hopeless life. She is as real as any person I had met, as she walked through a busy market place or went about her chores , one could almost feel the hybrid mix of sorrow and joy she felt. I have never gone to the market place or had a cup of tea with this person, this character but she was very real. Yes unwittingly I have gained the acquaintance of another stranger.

Another author read from her book of memoirs and it was like going back in time. She spoke of her untainted childhood and growing up surrounded by family all the time. The long systematically arranged family picnics, the chores, the time spent in the kitchen as the mothers and aunts rustled up exotic Asian dishes. The feeling of soft fresh bread and the constant laughter. It was a hypnotic blend and I couldn’t get enough of it.
How can we define the need to read or write? I hope we never find out as to why we feel the need for self-expression, because we need these escape routes. So read and write my friends for this is a wonderful escape!