To lament on rooftops

A dysfunctional writer like me who often has so much to say and nothing to put down on paper is usually tormented by ideas. Oh yes I’ve stopped blogging and the whole idea to write has started to creep me. What possibly than an empty page which rebukes at the very thought of ink, staring back with its wide hollow emptiness can let you stand erect.

That old sound of crisp paper, the tinkling of new thoughts and the archaic fountain pen evoked memories of all the good times we had. But then I was advised by my very wise fellas to do to away with it all. The Ms Word will be your bible and Google your Holy Grail, I was told. And as fate had it, I was typing at the speed a word per minute (my associations with technology is deeply paralysed, this was a milestone and you’re not to think of it otherwise).And then the tinkling was washed away with ready to publish googled pieces, the ideas were lost and the pen long forgotten. While the hysterically naïve me, tries to wipe tear-lets of lost wisdom. I have been deceived with the glory of new age techno-literates, and I’m here to lament over on the same lines.

As regressive as I may sound with my experiences with repelling highly conducive technology, the point here cannot be mistook for anti-modernization. I’m pro-development, improvement and what not as long as it doesn’t dehumanizes the essence of what we are. I agree with the need for massive employment of machines and widespread industrialisation, we can’t stay the third world country that loans out every now and then from the World Bank. But can we also afford massive deployment of labour, let an entire strata of people dwell under the realms of absolute ignorance. Do we have the right to pursue sacrilege of this stature?

Forgive me for spanning my inability to create into the antagonizing ideas of development. But correct me if you think I’m unable to see the point in churning up instantaneously into powerdom here. My only point is how can we proceed if we vanquish the essence of our identity? How do we see a future if we sabotage what made us get here? How do we anticipate ahead if we cannot reminisce the bygone?

Since I’ve flexed every issue except my absence from the blogosphere, I conclude that the coagulated ideas that had rested inside is giving me migraines. And I hereby rest both my cases.