I've recently been beseiged by complaints stating that my blog posts are always 'angry' and 'serious', and that I never write 'happy posts'. Now I know the correct reponse to such accusations is: 'it's MY blog, my own personal space, and I shall write what I choose, so there!' But I choose not to be that rude, since the ones making the complaints are friends, people whose opinions I solicit and value. So here's my take on the situation - if by 'happy posts' is meant lighthearted anecdotes about people in the office or what I had for lunch yesterday, I cannot oblige. When I began this blog, I wanted this to be a space where I talk about what touches me, issues that I consider serious, problems that I wanted to bring to the fore and incite discussions. I did not want this to be a personal diary of sorts - because, as my friends can testify, I'm a rather private person who emphatically does not want her life to be put on display for the whole world to gawk at. Not that I'm judging those whose blogs are well-maintained diaries of their innermost thoughts - I'm simply not one of them.
Unfortunately, we live in a world that's far from perfect - I think I can safely presume that everyone will agree with me. Rather more unfortunately, I happen to live in one of the most imperfect cities in this already way-too-imperfect world - New Delhi. It's the city which has had the dubious distinction of having made it to the cover story of Outlook, which focused on everything that was wrong with it - and everyday life in Delhi is nothing short of a battle and series of disillusionments. Unless you are deaf, blind, or utterly insensitive and stupid, you cannot but help noticing things that bother you, things that place you on the road to cynicism. I could, of course, leave such things be and write instead about the antics of my kittens - who are absolutely adorable, and a tiny demolition squad in themselves. I could go on and on about how gorgeous my solemn little Aslan is, how hyperactive the quirky little Piglet is, or how mischievous the little monkey of an Ariel is - and tales of their mother, my lovely Moody Cat, could take up several posts. But I'd be boring everyone, wouldn't I? (And that's a rhetorical question - the first person to say my kittens are boring will be in big trouble! Seriously, let me know - if anyone's interested, I'll put up a few pictures of my little ones.) But I took the decision to write about less pleasant subjects, for the simple reason that these are the topics that are never thought about, and not talked about all that often. And I invite debate and dissension in response - in fact, the more opinions, the more thoughts on the subject, the merrier!
And then, while I was pondering about such issues, the government, in a colossally stupid move that they're now blaming the ISPs for, went and banned blogsites, thereby depriving me and all other bloggers of their personal space, and daring to presume that some bureaucrat somewhere actually has the right to decide what we should or should not say where, when, how and why. And now that I have my space back, I'd rather have it stay the way I want, and write what I want to write about - who knows, someone somewhere might just decide to play God with our fundamental rights and take it away all over again, so I should just make the most of my time, shouldn't I?
Parting shot for the whiners - my next post will be an update on my one of favourite television shows, Desperate Housewives. Chortle, chortle. *Rubs hands in glee* Wait for it!