Poornima Manco

Author

belief

Who am I?

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The most rudimentary of questions. Yet the answer escapes most of us. Try and define yourself. Not describe, define. Who are you? Stripped down to the most elemental level. Are you brave? Are you a coward? Are you brutish or sophisticated? Are you conservative or liberal? Are you religious or an atheist? Who are you?

The answer is a complex one. And I’ll wager, not one you are expecting. The answer is: I do not know. I do not know how brave I am, till I am in a situation that requires courage. At that point, will I choose to save my skin or save another’s? I think I am sophisticated, till you put me in an unfamiliar milieu, and the social shorthand fails me. Then I appear brutish, unrefined and uncouth. I think I am liberal till my daughter brings home a boyfriend from the wrong side of the tracks, and all at once, every bit of my socialism flies out of the window. I think I am religious, yet I laugh at the barbaric rituals and stone gods of the ostensibly primitive.

Any of this sound familiar?

We are all complex, multi layered, multi dimensional wonders of evolution. We are all a work in progress. What I am in this moment, I will not be in the next. Nor will you. Our experiences, our joys, our sorrows contribute to our own unique signatures.

Fundamentally though, we all believe that we are good people. From the terrorist who bombs a hundred people in a square, giving up his life for a cause, to the politician who bombs a country, in pursuit of a higher good. We believe we are good. But are we?

These moral complexities are the shifting sands that govern human nature.

Who am I? The song from Les Misérables where Jean Valjean questions his moral core is perhaps the best way to end this rambling, philosophical blog post. Who am I? I am me.

 

Anniversaries

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When I last logged into WordPress, it informed me that I had completed a year of blogging, and wished me on my anniversary. An entire year gone by? A year of blogging- putting my stories, my thoughts and sometimes, my innards, out for consumption. Traditionally, anniversaries are celebrated. Wedding anniversaries, birthdays, new years….all roughly fall into that category of having completed something, with an anticipation of the future unfolding in a similar manner.

Sometimes though, they give rise to a need for reflection. What does completing a year signify? Is it merely a passage of time, or has one grown in that time; learnt something, gained an insight, perhaps acquired some wisdom? At what point does one sit down and evaluate the merits of where one stands today, as opposed to where one stood five or even ten years ago?

For me, personally, it has been a turbulent year. I have been shaken up in more ways than one. What I have learnt is, that I am incapable of writing stories, when my mind is troubled. I need to be in a safe place metaphorically, even if it isn’t necessarily a happy one. Yet, I am able to blog with impunity, for it requires no great powers of plotting, characterisation, or an end product meeting my own exacting standards, let alone anyone else’s.

I am trying to inch towards this safe zone. Blogging is my therapy. And that is something worth celebrating.

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A change is as good as a rest

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I am back after a brief hiatus. It was the necessary amount of time it took me to reassess, recuperate and rebound (somewhat) from the sad sad time in our lives. The sun is shining and in some small way, so is my outlook. I cannot thank my friends, and my lovely readers/followers for believing in me and allowing me the luxury of wallowing in my sorrow for a bit.

Onwards and upwards hereon.