WHEN WRITING BECOMES FOOD FOR THE FEW AS THE MANY MISCONCEIVE ITS DIETARY IMPLICATIONS

WHEN WRITING BECOMES FOOD FOR THE FEW AS THE MANY MISCONCEIVE ITS DIETARY IMPLICATIONS

When people cannot understand a shred of what I write and make puerile observations criticising me, I cannot but restrain myself from making copious counter statements by way of offering clarifications, for the misconceptions galore need not be my botheration to remove but they ought to be dissolved in due course over protracted periods of intellectual evolution unto the clear vision of an emergent dawn.

When men cannot look beyond the immediate association of words run degenerate due to colloquial abuse of these ignorant times, it is not my prerogative to act counsellor to such puerile proponents and bring them over to my stated intent. I'd rather lend them time and occasion to reflect if they will or rally counter propositions to their eminent satisfaction and to that of their colleagues and compatriots who are like-led into erroneous understanding of the words and phrases used by me in linguistic terms to make my point.

In an age when everybody has turned social journalist, it is but natural that literary culture will decline to a certain level of common consequence and one must adjust oneself to keep writing one's mind and heart for the comprehension of the few who get to the core of the meaning of such articulate observations.

My thankfulness to all who read my writing and greater thankfulness to those who reverently read into their meaning and come to conclusions with due caution that never allows indulgence to hasty inference and observation.

Literature is a dying tradition in this public space where titbits sell more. People are apt to concluding on posts along their preconceived ways, following their own prior lines of thinking, or shall I say, the lack of it? and they can hardly be faulted for that. That is the price one must pay for engaging in one's literary pursuits in a mart of men where thoughts are sold as commodities in the basement and where refinements have been banished to the rooftops to their utter oblivion. So, let me rest then in the attic of my musings while theatrics take centre-stage in the playhouse of the populous thoroughfare of life.

Written by Sugata Bose