The (Second) Comeback

After much indecision and deliberation I have finally decided to resume blogging. I have promised myself that I will make a conscious effort to update my blog regularly. People who have had the misfortune of reading my posts before will remember that I had made such promises before. But this time I promise that I will stick to the promise - at least until I decide to break the promise.

The problem with a promise to keep posting is that you are never sure when you have broken the promise. As mechanical engineers would never tire of telling, ‘what cannot be measured cannot be controlled’. So in order to have some control over my promise, I am setting a target for posts – I promise to make at least 2 posts a week (I had originally intended to put that number as 3 per week. I hope it doesn’t go down further). However, I make no guarantees about the size or quality of the posts. So I would consider myself to have stuck to my side of the bargain if I make three posts in a week containing one word each. Meanwhile, you can continue encouraging me through your comments. An occasional ‘you are the best’ or ‘I love you’ (strictly from girls only) thrown in may just have the effect of helping me exceed my target as well.

As readers of my previous posts would have noticed, I have deleted all my previous posts. I have two reasons for that:

1. I wanted to make a fresh start

2. I was extremely embarrassed by the content and quality of writing in the previous posts

The second reason, I am assured by some well meaning friends and a certain Mr. Orhan Pamuk, is very natural for people engaging in ‘creative’ pursuits. Pamuk writes in ‘My Name is Red’ about a master painter in medieval Turkey who, in a state of detachment from his works of art brought about by senility, goes about finding and destroying his masterpieces. He finds all his acclaimed masterpieces revolting and embarrassing.

I am no writer and my ‘works’ are read by probably ten people in the whole world. But, from not having read my blog for many months, I had the privilege of feeling the detachment that the master painter experienced. Then I saw what people reading my blog were actually reading. 10 minutes later, my fingers were aching from hitting the delete button.

Now we come to the content of my blog. One thing I was pained to notice when I went through the old posts was that there was too much self-obsessed writing in it. I don’t think I can totally avoid doing it – after all, blogging is but another name for blowing your own trumpet – but I’ll definitely keep it to a minimum.

Now that I have completed the easier task of making unreasonable assurances, I am moving on to the difficult task of delivering something regularly. Hmm.. reminds me I have to call up and remind the Airtel broadband guy to come.