Serious Blogging? What do ya think?


Why do you blog?
A: Partly to make Butterflies and Wheels more frequently updated and more interactive (as well as that bit more interesting, I hope), but also because I think the world des-perately needs to hear my opinions, and I like to oblige.”
― Ophelia Benson

Has blogging reduced to meaningless activity? That’s for you to answer. For me my blogs are conversation with unknown person at a chaikhana.

Can bloggers make significant contribution to the society dealing with significant issues seriously?

What is a blog in the first place – a written material published on the web. If it is a verb then the action that creates the blog is also a blog while the person indulging in the activity is a blogger.

Why do most of us blog? Lets be honest we are doling out answers people don’t want to hear to questions they didn’t ask. Most of us advertise our opinion, some of us flaunt our language skills, what ever. Many of us who have voices and concerns that we would like to voice, but are reluctant to approach a publisher for whatever reasons, so blogs come to our rescue. Then are people who want information, then there are exhibitionists.

Each of us as bloggers are only as effective as our reader outreach.  Of course some of them in turn may have a greater range of influence. But as of now we just accept what gives us just in case we are interested. Our readers connect to us depending on what they perceive as our credibility. If we are perceived as sincere despite the fact that people may disagree, our thoughts and our opinions get acknowledged, that in itself is a great achievement. Whether we can bring about a revolution ….I doubt… a change possibly. Just this morning I read Sucheta Dalal’s blog and took an appointment with my bank manager as I needed some answers.

What we write, is our choice, we can do it in all sincerity, with all conviction, its outcome depends on the reader and the attitude of the reader if the person is the kind to take to action they would, if the person is an armchair revolutionary then it would trigger debates, if you make someone uncomfortable, they could pelt stones at you, and if the person is an armchair delinquent then welcome to the world of internet trolling.

There are people who take on video-blogging, or podcasting, there are people who are working with language on the brink of extinction, to revive it they of course opt of Vblog or YouTube. If you are looking at the immediate revolution brewing in the backyard forget it, yes but we do influence people to an extent again instead of. Our arms circle, this time round we don’t know who we are influencing.

Well Tomichan Matheikal, it looks like you are bringing me back to introspection, and questioning. Thank You.

This blog is written for the 162nd Edition of Indispire.

Celebrating Life

Every month 25th-30th I am at Manipal I have my hypnotherapy clinic.  Last time I went there our it Aunt Kasturi’s 70th birthday and her niece Jyothi had a party for her, the previous day, as we were dinner, Aunt Kasturi mentioned “I am told old for all this birthday party and things like that.”

For which Jyothi replied “Kasturi-akka, this is celebrating and thanks giving, for all the love and care you have given me,”

The next day Aunt Kasturi invited us for lunch, saying it was because she wanted to thank the universe for all the joy and richness she received in her life. Jyothi had altered our perception of birthday, it was not looking at one year gone without any achievement to show, but it became a reminder to celebrate life and to update.

Then there was grandma Parwati, who refused aggressive treatment to deal with her 80% cerebral tumour, her argument was I am 74yrs old, I have had a great life, I would like to go  gracefully and thank my maker.

It is interesting when I deal with clients who have issues with money, it translates to wanting abundance, yet abundance is already there in every breathe,”I don’t have money” “My mother-in-law does not like me” “I am not good enough” we are abundant in acknowledging our lack.

Somewhere people who write journals me included we only document our grievances, and we land up empowering negativity. Actually I put my clients on the 12 week recovery program both for tobacco addiction or creative block one of the major things we do is ask people to write five things they are grateful for each night and five things that made them happy during the day.

It is amazing, how this simple exercise opened up an entire world of abundance and richness for me.

I could look at the wonderful supportive parents I had, I could appreciate the tremendous inner strength that developed in me because I wanted to stay true to myself and the support I received for it from my grandparents and parents, the wonderful teachers who taught me, not just skills but also life lessons. The emotional safety network that was provided by the extended family that we connected into through our community and profession. The birth of my daughters, their smiles, the fact that they are beautiful young women, I think I do have abundance in all sections of my life, that calls for celebration, acknowledgement and gratitude.


this article is an excerpt from my NANOWRMO writing.

all that is requited is a shift in perspective, great healing can be achieved by just one small shift. Life offers two options, one is as though everything is a miracle, the other is nothing is a miracle, no matter what we choose there is wonderment.

‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’


Fill In the Blank

She opened a blank page, in her note book, if she had to be honest Narmada would confess, the entire book was blank. Each day for the past two months she has been sitting to think of what to write, there were things that set her arse on fire, but putting them on paper gave her headache, she reckoned somewhere she twisted her face, with an attempt to think, but only landed up feeling stupid, instead she walked around with a blank mind hoping something from somewhere would fill it up.

She called her therapist up, the therapist told her you need to get up each morning as write 3 pages, long hand, no spell checks or grammar checks, and most important do not read it.

Narmada was furious, here I am telling her that i cannot write and she tells me write. Entire week of resisting, demanding the therapists attention with indirect tactics, but her therapist stayed firm.

“You are supposed to help me,”

“Narmada I am here to help, not to spoon feed you or step in for you.”

“Can’t just give me a pill to deal with depression”

“I can, but I won’t” the therapist for was firm,”I do not want to be the next peg for you to hang on.”

Narmada, eventually agreed to do what the therapist said, write the three damn pages as she woke up in the morning, it was crazy the therapist was clear no thinking just write what ever words float, strangely words did not float, what floated were images of a blue snake, of a woman walking on the road in blue.

A week of writing was really bad, then came the realization the story that set her butt on fire was a lingering bottled up anger, it was the authentic story that wanted to emerge, on the contrary it had become mixed up, rotten, confused, and was highly combustible, it could burst out and bring out a very different narrative than what was supposed to come out!

As she came into the 4th week of writing the morning pages, Narmada realized creation was one the strangest acts.

As a writer for it was a blank page or note book for her, it could have been a block of stone, or wood or a silent musical instrument that beckoned.

With the morning pages the prison guard “Mary Kutty” had weakened and angry dragon within was exorcised she could now look inside herself.  She could now through the bait and fish around for that elusive  cloud vapour fish, that made her live in clamour and reshape it or even fit it in where she wanted it to be, she could latch on things, and bring forth things out of head like Zeus brought forth Athena.

This abstract will-o-wisp could take tangible shapes and forms.

People in the support group said, it was as if images emerged on the canvas, or the musical resonated on its own.


this article is an excerpt from my NANOWRMO writing.

The morning pages had given her cohesion, and brought forth something, her mind had ordered and succeeded in manifesting something beautiful out of nothing, it was like a glimpse of the divine.

A blank page now told her, that there was infinite potential, every page, like every moment contained possibilities that she could possibly not imagine, every day, came with a blank page, it was for her to fill with the most beautiful feelings, it was for her to create the space for the story, for the drawing.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

The string of jasmine

draupadi jadaiThere was a hesitant knock on her door, when Sabrina opened the daughter there stood Mumtaz her maid’s daughter,

“Bhabhi, I came to give you this” she held in tiny palms, an assorted collection of jasmine buds and parijatha flowers.

‘Where did you get it from?’

“In  the garden they had fallen from the balcony,”

“Do you like flowers?”

“So why don’t you wear them”

“we don’t have a garden to grow it, and  I have to save pocket money before i can buy,”

Sabrina thanked her and closed the door, but the wistful look of the little girl stayed, ”flowers they are the laughter of the earth” she recalled her grandfather saying.

It had begun with the assorted flowers she placed on the sill, every one ridiculed her for choosing the ordinary vinca rosea instead of the exotic flowers but looking at the marigold, the aboli and vinca rosea each morning took her right back to being the excited five year old prancing beside her grandfather who began his day with an hour of gardening.

The balcony attached to the bed room, overlooking the garden had a mini layout, the L-shaped ledge had jasmine adjacent to each wall the pegs on the wall helped the creeper climb, beside it came the roses, the vendor who sold it called it “Sophia Lauren” then came two zinnia plants, and in the centre where two arms met to make the  L, she had the bongavilla two creepers of different colours as the creepers grew their leaves adding colours.

As she looked across, a young man walked up the pathway of the house cross, with a bunch of flowers, the door opened, the person collected the basket and signed a sheet, the man left, how ironic thought Sabrina, when she was younger Valentine’s day was the only day when bouquets came home, or flowers were given, or if you were at an event as a guest.  Strings of jasmine were given somewhere it also bespoke a certain commitment in the relationship.

The first time she was talking to Arvind, a girl had come selling Jasmine, and Sabrina had bought it, she had told Arvind that she loved jasmine, since then every time he met he brought Jasmine, it nearly thirty years now, but he never forgets the Jasmine, despite their spouse, and their children, he still visited her with a string of Jasmine.

Somehow her husband had never bothered with flowers for her, neither the valentine ones or the jasmine, it was like the song, “tere bina zingadi se koi shikhva toh nahi, ”  when the marriage died, she created this companion who always made sure that the flowers were there for her, larger bins for the Parijata, and Champa.

Sabrina, put the flowers on a damp towel, slowly strung them together, four jasmines, alternating with a red stalked Parijata, walked up to the dressing table to look for something to pin the flowers on her hair, when the sound of the child laughing rang into the room, the wistful eyes remerged before Sabrina.

Sabrina, put the clip and the string down, and went out to the balcony..

“Mumtaz come here,”

Mumtaz came up to the door she seemed rather apprehensive,

“Undo your pony tail,” the girl obeyed with increasing apprehension. Sabrina braided the child’s hair, picked up the colourful crunchy that she did not use, and pinned the string of flowers on to the braid,  the face of the child lit up. It had been long since Sabrina had seen that look. ”


this article is an excerpt from my NANOWRMO writing.

“You can pick these flowers and wear them every day,” the child’s face lit up.

“Do you know how to string it?” asked Sabrina,


“Would you like to learn, you can make two strings, one for me and one for you”

The child could only nod, “I’ll teach you tomorrow,” promised Sabrina.


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’ For those who would like to start their own garden but are scared to here is where I found help

Devout iz greun.

Godliness in greenery…

This associated with Ganesh chaturthi, we seem to fall into a pattern. Since I am agnostic, I was just pondering on the colour green.

out of reachThe colour of the flora, colour of the anahata chakra, heart chakra if you wish to call it so. chlorophyll such a dominant colour in the world of plants, that we tend to forget that there are leaves that are not green, yet we call the environment greenery. I am all for these nourishing colours don’t get me wrong.

Green in nature is one thing and green in literature is another, there is seems to be huge antipathy between literature and nature, bring them together and see it, yet when we look beyond the obvious it is interesting. For example Green With Envy is an oft used term, and Green Bucks refers to paper currency, and commerce is the new green, spend your money where your beliefs are…

Greens, if I were to look for it in nature, there is a bank out there, olive, jade, lime, leaf, kiwi, silver green of the back of a birch leaf, the bright pistachio.  The presence of green in water tells us of the marine life and I am told depending on the shade of green in the water one can tell if the water has healing herbs, or if it sweet drinking water unlike the blue which usually is salty.plinky 1

But green tinted phlegm indicates streptococcal infection.

Symbolically green represents balance, nature, spring, rebirth and prosperity.  Its oft said that it does not matter how green a blade of grass is when it is already trampled beneath the feet, the irony is the green leaves the un-cemented walking path, but persistently emerges through the tile edge of the cemented sidewalk. The creeper that climbs the drain, and moss the grows on the wall, only tell us, that green sustains.

plinky treeAfter all plants is the second level of the collective consciousness of life, crystals being the first. Green is the colour of romance or sringara in Indian aesthetics, while green is the colour of eternal life  for Japanese, green is progress put them together and we green the colour of divinity.Both Venus and Aphrodite are associated with the colour green.

Thoreau calls himself the Patron saint of swamps –“” because he enjoyed being in them and writing about them said, “my temple is the swamp… When I would recreate myself, I seek the darkest wood, the thickest and most impenetrable and to the citizen, most dismal, swamp. I enter a swamp as a sacred place, a sanctum sanctorum… I seemed to have reached a new world, so wild a place…far away from human society. What’s the need of visiting far-off mountains and bogs, if a half-hour’s walk will carry me into such wildness and novelty.” –― Henry David ThoreauWalden and Other Writingssupa1

The ancients had the tradition of the sacred grooves, these helped to maintain biodiversity. Maybe it is time to revive them.  an acre of forest spruce boggles, no one, maybe ten square miles of cultivated land could gladden hearts, but the plant kingdom knows no hierarchy, fecundity of the plant kingdom is not an assault on human values, or existence, plants are not our competitors, they are our prey and our nesting material. Their proliferation, should mean to us, just what the population explosion of mice would mean to owls, fecundity is anathema to the animal mind, we look at acres of forest and say acres and acres of predators that makes its chilling, which becomes acceptable if we were to say… reservoir of clean air, and larder of prey okay lets also thrown soothing to the soul and sight.draupadi jadai

Going green starts with a shift in consciousness, that shows up with every choice we make, like using a reusable water bottle, reducing the use of diapers and non biodegradables, planting that one plant in the pot and converting the kitchen waste to bio-fuel or compost.

If we were to be brutally frank, then green life would not mean meditating in a centrally heated room, on a macramé mat, in front of an Amerindian dream catcher, and a homemade lamp, not mentions incense and ugly spider plants, nor does it mean writing vitriolic-witty blogs or newspaper articles, and then rushing off in a gas guzzling vehicle to collect children from school, feeding them soup made from dehydrated soup powder, or giving them a microwaved heated pre-cooked meal. Neither living a greener life demands certain amount of both self-sacrifice and discipline, saving the planet is not lip service nor waiting for superman. Like every adventure it means getting your hands a little dirty and putting ourselves a little out.

‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

Vision 2050 A Reality Check

vision 2050Where do I see India by 2050? BlogAdda wants a space on my blog dedicated to India, with a vision where I think India will be in the year 2050…

Sorry to be a party pooper

Here is the reality check… we are not a force to reckon with as we like to imagine, we will be a force to reckon with by 2050, simply because by 2022 we will over take china as the country with largest population.

The world population projection for 2050 is 9.7 million, though major population explosion as a continent will be in Africa.

The life span wills more so the global population will get older, the number of people of 65 and more are projected to triple in US particularly the population of seniors is expected to double from 41 million to 86 2050 2

This would mean workers are pressured with greater number of dependents to deal with. It would mean a trade of young for old.

There are various other challenges that are emerging, like a scarcity of essential commodities like water, fresh water might become an issue unless we begin working on it right away.

With governments focusing on non-agrarian development environment gets threatened.

Exceeding mineral diesel is resulting in carbon saturated climate, increases in temperature resulting in loss of natural resources on one hand and decreased agricultural production on the other.

biodieselIssues of carbon sequestration in the soil, contaminates the soil again damaging the cultivation. So one hand we are talking about increased population and on the other we are talking about decreased food production, this directly leads to food security. Since access to food would definitely be an issue.

The only answer here is sustainable development, which is what UN is looking at, and we need to look at if we really want to be a force to reckon with.

Sustainable development is actually 2 ideas.

  • Impact of economics, social and environmental culture on one another.
  • A sensible workable dynamic to make the planet survive longer.

vision 2050 3The entire world is interconnected and humanity as a whole is affecting everything aspect of the planet. Look at the disparity, on one hand we have China creating magnetic travel, while Dhaka still deals with cycle rickshaw. We are somewhere in between and we are in both the terrains.

If our development has to be sustainable, then we need to understand the 4 dimensional challenges, of economics, sustainable work culture communities, compounding it with political governance.  The four dimensions would be, economic, social, environment and government systems.

Sustainable development also is having a holistic view of how the society should be, that would mean we develop normative or ethical approaches in identifying goals for the society. This goal should bring about economic enrichment which is accessible across gender, religious and racial ethnicity.


this article is an excerpt from my NANOWRMO writing.

Sustainable development is to ensure maintenance of biodiversity. It might be a good time to give up mineral diesel for Biodiesel.

The crucial aspects of sustainable development would achieving well being and prosperity, whose key markers would be

  • Health
  • Life expectancy
  • Working span of an individual.
  • Growing food, and managing its transport to meet the basic needs of the country.

If we do not head for a holocaust, then 2050 comes with multiple challenges of aging society, increased population, polluted climate, carbon sequestered soil, a need to produce more food and fiber to a growing population on a smaller rural labour force. Diminishing fresh water, eroded natural resources.

Here is a time to look at the alternates and move towards strengthening rural India. It is also the time to create start-ups that are focused on the needs of the country to sustain and develop it.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’


Thank You My Friend

disguisehello oldest friend…

Thanks for being there,

I know my letter to you would come as a surprise since I rarely mention or acknowledge your presence in my life. But yes, you have always been with me.

But when sister Greta is spanking poor Roger for insisting that Spiderman visited him at night, and wanted to keep a slice of birthday cake for Spiderman, I knew it was time to reconnect with you.

the constant ongoing conversations we have allows me to disengage with the rest of the world.

i know our friendship was often threatened, sometimes when another friend came by, like Sue did, I remember how upset you were when Sue in her Royal blue “Stretch Pants” and white and blue primrose top extended her hand, with all solemnity of 7yr.old and asked me, ”Sam will you be my friend.” Sue w as my first ever real friend and we stayed friends till Sue got married 15yrs later.

You refused to talk to me, until you realized that you were still my best friend, and each night before I went to bed, I spoke to you, mom really thought I lost it, so I did the next thing wrote in a book, so that you could read and reply and we could converse at our own time and space.

The time we climbed up Auntie Kenny’s roof and were gorging those fruits that we had picked reading Enid Blyton the afternoon was wonderful, but mom wanted to meet you after that, and that was definitely breaking the code. You are my friend and I do not like anyone else in that space.

You have always been someone to whom I could pour the contents of my heart, be it chaff or grain, and sometimes both together. Knowing that gentle hands will take and shift, helping me keep what is worth keeping and with gently blow the rest. Interestingly you never walked either ahead or behind me, you were always with me. You didn’t keep my secrets for me, you help me keep my own secrets.

Yes, my own marriage ate into our friendship, I have kind of forgotten you, new environment, and new experiences brought a new companion who I thought was helping me deal with the rejection, the humiliation that came with marriage. Twenty five years now, as I my energy, and hope ebbed, thoughts of suicide was the only thing that carried me through at times, this new companion supported me, keeping me angry, and vigilant so that no barb stings, and if they do, I would fling it like a dart right back.

There were nights of exhaustion,  when not waking up seemed a better option, there were moments of oscillation between homicide and suicide, each time, despite the nudge from my new companion, somewhere I heard your soft whisper that said, hold on, my friend you are beautiful,  you are worth it, you are here because you make a difference.

you held my hand through my loneliness, you brought Louise Hay into my life, you are everything I needed, because your character has been moulded by my deepest wants and desires, you have been the Gibraltar that I leaned cried on, my companion when I laugh, you are still my hero, I need to believe that a hero exists for me.


this article is an excerpt from my NANOWRMO writing.

I am so thankful, I learnt to hide, my connect with you the first moment my mother decided that I was bordering schizophrenia, and had to go to a therapist. For most imaginary friends die at the psychologists clinic, where dreams go to burn and creativity goes to drown.

Good night friend, I am glad you are back in my life.

Lets meet over coffee tomorrow at the crack of dawn.

With love


‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

How late is it?

watchI was browsing through the archives of BlogAdda, suddenly I came across the winners for the social media vouchers, my name was one of them. I realized it was too late to retrieve that voucher, I had lost the opportunity to attend a prestigious social media meet. well for I moment there was disappointment, but then I felt maybe it  was not to be.

But this moment of regret, “It is too late now” has oft been uttered. Yet everything comes at the right time.

“it too late now,”  Sunita had lamented five years back when her husband had ditched her for another woman. “I am 55 what will I do?” it was scary, of course it is always scary to start over again, be it school, a friend or anything else, here she was at the end of a relationship.

“I should get a job, but who will give a job to a 55yr.old school dropout”. There was anger sorrow in her voice. The core of her identity as a mother, wife, everything telling her that things are not right she was feeling unsafe, a kind of desperate she was beating herself for not finishing school.

“Listen Sunita, you take care of my Calangute outlet,” offered Sunil a friend.

“I don’t know how to.” She replied, “I’ll guide you,” retorted Sunil.

Hesitantly she put a foot forward and took on the Parata Place, slowly and steadily.

Today five years later  at sixty she has married a widower, who used to eat regularly at the Parata place, her job still on, she is at peace.

I am hearing the same, ”it too late now” from another Sunita who is 40yr old lawyer despite doing 5yr. Law from National School Of Law she has opted to be a stay at home mom, donning the mantle of the good Agarwal bahu, one fine morning, she happened to log on to her computer when she chanced on her husband’s chat with another woman her entire world collapsed, self respect crumbled, she feels wasted.

“There is no place I can go” is her cry. Looking back the other Sunita didn’t even bother about it, she went to Manjushri who was in charge of a hire a women’s only hire a taxi, for three days she slept in the car used Sulabh facilities, then moved into a working women’s hostel till her finances were sorted and she could buy herself a place.


this article is an excerpt from my NANOWRMO writing.

Actually the linear time line is something that is our belief, there is no too late it always the right time, what is short is our leap of faith, yes if we are talking about an incomplete conversation or closures that we need to have again it is not too late, it can be done at anytime, what is needed is courage and conviction.

Yet I have seen just as many people who began their jog rather late, people who shifted streams, people who have decided to follow their passion, it is not about lateness leading to lastness, it is about beginning, do it just now do not push it further.

his post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

And That Little Dream

travellerI have a dream, a song to sing …

There is nothing like a dream to create the future.”
― Victor HugoLes Misérables

Twenty years from you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did no. so throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbour, catch the trade winds in your sails, explore, dream, discover, more important, accept and render gratitude for every opportunity.

Like the folk singer and the oral poet Sarah Kay Lee, I wanted to be a princess, ballerina astronaut, but she eventually figured she could not. Well, maybe she didn’t realize that she could adopt an Tiger mom from Bay Area. Lets not go there, well there were so many things I would want to do, but at the end of the day I guess I just wanted to be  different from the others.

Sometimes, I think I don’t want whatever I want. Nobody really does, what kind of fun would it be if I just got everything, I ever wanted just like that and it didn’t mean anything… what then… well we are not talking wanting here we are talking dreaming.

I have had good innings, satisfying various dreams that I had, A good practise as a dentist, a very creative phase as choreographer and movement designer which I did along with the dental practise, as I moved towards hypnotherapy and writing I am satisfied there too.

Yes there are some secret visions that are still to be realized, so here is what I have done about it, took a Saturday off, made a list of all those things that I  have always dreamt of doing, then prioritized them in the order of the passion that they trigger in me, started working on it, be it 10mnts before bed routine of painting, or whatever, it is just about doing something.

Sometimes I realize that it was not really as great as I imagined that it would be, some have taken me on destinations further than what I reading

What I had to do was very simple, first and fore most release myself from tyranny of “this or that” I had to understand the power of “And,” then came acknowledging all that I wanted to do, from there the journey has been wonderful.

So no matter what your age or life path, whether turning your dream into your career, hobby or just weaving it into your current profession, it is not too late or too egotistical or selfish, nor is it too silly to be worked on. The refrain I have experienced and heard is “ do you know how old I will be by the time I really learn to do what I want, doubt I will long enough to climb everest… well the answer is the same age you will be if you don’t, of course with a part of you hankering for something. Just leap and the net will appear.


this article is an excerpt from my NANOWRMO writing.

Think delight, think fun, do not think duty, not what you should …spiritual sit ups like reading a dull intellectual text, do what intrigues you, explore what interests you, think mystery not mastery, at the moment I am satisfying my dream of learning carpentry.

Here is sharing Karthika Reddy CEO Facebook operations India’s take

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

Where is the cape?

super heroesSuperheroes in disguise.

the wow this weekend deals with superheroes, they are looking at people who bail us out of a tricky situations, people who work with dedication uncompromisingly to make our life a little smoother. Well do I know any one like that someone who can create a miracle. Oh! The person could be in disguise.

Well are we looking for a hero or are we looking for a rescuer? For super heroes are born in the mind people who are despeate to be rescued.

Sometimes the line is very thin. Heroes are people who are admired for great or brave acts, or fine qualities. A person who is greatly admired.  Just does his job, while a rescuer needs a damsel in distress, or mankind in peril.  Actually heroes are made by the paths they choose and deeds they do and not the powers they are granted with.

Yet we love our superheroes, because they refuse to give up on us, we can analyse them out of existence, kill them, ban them mock them and still they return, patiently reminding us of who we are and what we wish could be.

If we were to think of superheroes there are two kinds so are the types of people on earth, like the Batman and Iron Man, the Batman has a secret identity, so Bruce Wayne has to walk around each second of each day knowing that if somebody stumbles on his secret, his family, is dead, his friends are dead, every one he loves gets tortured to death by costumed supervillians, and he has to live with the weight of that secret every day. But Tony Stark he is open, about being the Iron Man, he does not give a shit, he doesn’t have a shadow hanging over him, he does not have spend energy building up those walls of deceit around him, each one of us, falls in either one of the catagories, we are either one of those people who ahs to hide our real self because it would ruin us,if it came out, may be our secret fetish, or addiction or crimes or we are not one of those people. And the two groups don’t even live on the same planet!!

Sometimes, I think in  reality the genius in the position of the antihero, neither the good guys nor the bad guys really trust him, because his truth is universal.


this article is an excerpt from my NANOWRMO writing.

Well in my space the real heroes are the librarians and teachers who at no small risk to themselves refuse to lie down and play dead for censors.

Odes to superheroes that I have written before

‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’


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