Thursday, November 10, 2011

Bring my my Rainbow

Pick up a pen from the pen-holder closest to you, yes, any random pen (no, not a highlighter, just an ordinary pen), and I CHALLENGE you, that that pen writes in black ink.

In our house this is always true----all the pens create black print. And I ask---where have all the colors gone? Granted, that we hardly ever use the humble pen now days----we gladly type away on our keyboards. But even then why did we stop appreciating colorful script? Ok, not 'colorful' but at least script written in more than just black ink? Long long time ago, I used to be a teacher, and I would actually sit down with exam sheets and term papers, and check them and leave comments and grades written in red ink. Those words and points written in red, meant a lot to the reader, and I could see how anxiously the receiving student would scour through the sheets for all things in red. In those days itself, during office hours, I would make detailed graphs on white paper, indicating different things on the picture in different colors---I often used the red, black and blue, but also had the pleasure of using yellow and green inks on occasions, to point to some overlapping portions of triangles or axis. And all those pens were just there----in my pen holder, a mere hand stretch away.

Today, I was drawing a technical picture (don't ask me why), and needed to draw something in blue over a graph I had already made in black---and I COULD NOT come across ONE SINGLE blue-inked pen. It annoyed me no ends to see that even pens whose bodies had all blue on them, actually wrote in black.

Only teachers care about the different color pens now? I will have to trudge across to my toddler's room and rummage through her pen-caddy for some sketch pens to finish off my current task. And note to self: when in walmart next, grab a set of pens of different color inks....if they still make those pens.

Friday, November 4, 2011

WRITE NOW

I read this person's blog, and he had written, right on the top right corner of the blog screen---his name and underneath 'author'...just that---that was his plain and simple introduction, and indeed that was the reason I was on his blog page to start with--his novel and his novel writing tips and all that. But those six letters in black on a white background--A U T H O R....wow those left a mark on my mind...and I actually looked at that word for more time than it takes an adult literate person to read and understand a simple english word.

What I would do to get that title for myself (I mean writing would be a good starting point, but then that ain't happening as much!). I did manage to convince (actually convincingly say to) two important people of my life that I am a 'writer'---one my three year old toddler, and other my semi-literate household helper--a Tibetan refugee lady who barely speaks english and of course given her super enslaved work hours (she works very hard for various employers), she almost never reads any book. The latter's significance in my life comes from the fact that if it weren't for her ceaseless some hours of all the chopping and other basic house work, I would have literally no minute to sit down before a computer, and my husband for sure would have no chapatis to eat AT ALL. Anyhow, getting back to the gist of this blog, when one day the helper asked me all too innocently if I worked too, I took a moment's silence to frame the sentence for myself, and then spoke aloud, "I am a writer." I imagined she would not ask me the details, and she obliged by moving on to the next chore without any curiosity on what, why, who for, do I write? Or those even more difficult questions: "have you published?" "when will you publish?" "what are you writing about?" She moved on, and I heard the echo of my own words for the whole day that day.

Likewise, once when I sat my toddler down to teach her the whole meaning of the word 'occupation', I ran her through the various kinds of jobs the different people she knows do...like her dad, and uncle and that aunty and so on. And then I declared to her, and to myself, "and your mumma is a writer." I was in the business of explaining occupations that day, so I had to add for my daughter's sake, "I write." Pause, then "I write stories and will write a book and so on....". Of course for the kid, her holding a pencil to start to write the first letter of her name, V, too makes her a writer. So she gleefully said, "mumma see I am a writer too." Being a parent, I of course said "Amen"..... truly wishing upon her countless years of satisfying writing. And I also wish that we will both graduate to 'author' too.