Why I Blog

I run, falter, dust myself, and dash off again. I huff and puff — and drag on without a stop. That’s pretty much what my life is about.

Oh, and it’s also about a list of things not being done and another long list of things I’ve wanted all my life and which are a far cry from the present reality. Sometimes it is also about the ominous strikeouts of cherished bucket list items. That’s when I give up, at least temporarily, on certain things, thinking they are impossible to achieve or simply incompatible with my present life.

Such as a quaint tea party with old friends amidst the old environs of T3 in Park Street. The restaurant has closed down since I last visited it in early 2008. That also happened to be my first visit —  one that I would remember for the rest of my life as the forked path that took me this way in life.

Or, maybe a bright park where I can sit with a book and have my dogs play by themselves. That is not to be either. Where I live, there’s a lone joggers’ park out of bounds for animals. And the roads are full of strays and traffic, so dog walking is a terrible task. And the less said about the impunity of my pets, the better. Same goes about my reading.

Nowadays, I try not to think about painting. Just the thought of it makes me ache all over and, I must admit, throw tantrums over little things that leave people spell-bound. I have no time at all. No time to do my hair before I go out to work. [I do that on my way, inside the office vehicle.] No time to read. No time to sleep or stand by the window, or write.

Yet I blog. Precisely because I must. I must not lose my voice in the chores of life. Even as I sat paralyzed with my fingers on the keypad — choking on the previous passage, the maid arrived, I opened the door, answered what was to be cooked, and tried to overhear what they were discussing in the society meeting. [The dogs, I suspect.]

It’s not surprising that my life is so hectic. Many people live theirs on a more difficult level and continue to be creative. What I find surprising is the price that I have to pay to get the things I want in life.

Writing helps me think back on time. It gives me a cover from the daily kitchen-sink harangue. Writing is the cozy little space I create for myself — if only mentally.

As Virginia Woolf pointed out, no woman who ever gave herself up to the proper [aka conventionally prescribed] upkeep of home and hearth has ever been able to write anything of substance. With due respect to the angelic author of A Room of One’s Own, I say, therefore it is that I blog. Expect no more of me dear lady, but I shall write nonetheless. If only to remember all that is going unseen and unlived. Or to remind myself of the months since I sat down to take stock of life.

What I might end up with is a litany of little ideas — embryos aborted midway in a sudden creative splurge. That might well be the fate of Halfastory. Yet I shall write. For otherwise I might scream.


Hi, I'm Sampurna and I'm from India. I love to write, paint, and play with my dogs. Catch up with me at Halfastory's Blog. Happy reading!

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8 comments on “Why I Blog
  1. Your rationale for writing;its urgency and necessity, is possibly mine also. Your need to somehow hold onto and express your own voice deeply resonated with me – I will point in the direction of this post anyone who ever asks me why it is that I blog. Thank you! 🙂

  2. Sampurna says:

    Thankee, and keep writing. I love reading you 🙂

  3. sylvia says:

    Nice blog Sampurna…:)

  4. Enjoyed reading all the articles. some blog posts are funny 🙂 Your writeups reflect interesting combination of wit and serious pondering, sprinkled with timely jokes/comments. Keep writing.

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