It is 2.00 am and sleep eludes me. Well, there is nothing unusual in that. I’ve always been a late night drifter. Past midnight seems to be the only time when I can actually sit up and do some quality stuff. Especially writing. And today, I was particularly high, considering that I’d just started a new blog AND written the first post. It is almost like moving into a new place with all the personalization that needs to be done. Once I had dealt with that, I was at a loss for what to do. Don’t get me wrong, I had plenty to do work-wise, but that wasn’t what I wanted to do. And so I geared up my laptop and set out in search of new blogs to follow.
Now let me explain the process that preludes my following a blog. There is only one reason I follow a blog – it should interest me. Like keep me hooked to it. I should want to want what the author wants. It is a beautiful feeling to be inspired by someone you have never met, have nothing in common with and (often) lives halfway across the continent.So here I was typing up random stuff like “Blogs on life” and such on Google. Now before you snort at my (supposed) idiocy, I’ll have you know that Google search is what introduced me to THE coolest blog I’ve ever come across named ‘SHE in China – Seen, Heard & Experienced in China’. Cool, huh? I stumbled on this piece of gem by mistake and it had been love at first sight. Joanna, the Swedish journalist who pens her thoughts at the aforementioned address, seemed like a long lost friend. I read one of her blog posts and immediately clicked on the first one she ever wrote.
See that’s something I’m kinda obsessed with. If I am to follow a blog, I need to get the whole story right from the beginning – complete with the sunrise and the roosters call. Which is quite a feat if the blog has been alive for 4-5 years. Not that it bothers me. Ever. I like that feeling of having been with the author throughout the journey and not like the aunt from U.K who loves you but don’t know you half as well as the nagging aunt that lives next door and you say you hate but can’t imagine being without. Anyway, I spent some wonderful evening sharing Joanna’s life experiences in China and also managed to learn quite a bit about the place. Minefields of knowledge travel blogs are, I tell you. It was a sad, sad day when I logged on to her site and realized that she had written her last post and wasn’t planning on continuing it. Since Joanna had set the standards rather high, I’m yet to be addicted or influenced by a blog as I have been with hers. Which was why I found it difficult to connect with the numerous blogs that I came across today and before.
It was during this search from site to site that I chanced upon the blog of the Indian Homemaker. Following the routine, the first thing I did was to skim through her latest post. It looked interesting enough for it to be subjected to the second step of scrutiny i.e. going through her ‘About Me’. It was here that I heard of her daughter for the first time. A click on the link took me to another blog – one that I’ve been to before. I had paused there once only to learn that the gorgeous, gorgeous 19-year-old author of the blog was no more. I vaguely remember myself feeling an inexplicable sense of distress for a girl I have never interacted with. It must have passed on pretty quickly, I guess. Today, when I peeked into her space once again, I took some time to read through her stuff. The letter to her future daughter – words fail when I try and describe it. I’m awed by her thoughts and how beautifully she has transferred it to paper. I’m also disturbed by how closely I can relate to what she has written. To adopt a baby girl, that is one thing I’ve wanted for myself since I was a kid too. How many teenage girls can vow to do something like this with so much conviction, I wonder? I’ve been going through her mothers’ blog and Facebook pages and such for the past 2-3 hours. The memorial video on Youtube, her countless photos – I feel as if I know her like my best friend. This sense of kinship, where does that come from? Is this what they call the magic of social media? I’m confused, disturbed. I catch myself wondering about my own mortality. Being someone who has never had to experience heart-wrenching grief in my life, I know not how I’ll be able to handle a similar situation.It’s simple. I don’t mind dying. But, being the selfish daughter I am, I can’t imagine putting my family though what that family is going through day in and day out.
To courage and love and making a difference. To Tejaswee Rao.