Friday, March 16, 2012

somebody that I used to know

Everyone has been writing that it was inevitable, but it brings a tinge of sadness nonetheless. Sepia Mutiny is coming to a close.

I've been giving a lot of credit to that blog for putting me in touch with some fascinating folks on the web, but if I really trace it back, all the way back, right to the point of its absolute essence, it wasn't actually Sepia Mutiny. Here's the truth. It was blogs. Yes, that dead dinosaur, this format that I can't seem to quit.

Manish and Anna and Abhi had these amazing, lightning-rod blogs that I and many others read voraciously. I thought Sepia Mutiny was pure brilliance when it started; I thought if you combined such forces, nothing could stop it. Maybe that was partially true. But I saw the price that was paid. Each of their blogs dwindled down. With the exception of Anna, when they did blog, their writing became less personal. And frankly, it was those little moments, the little glimpses inside, those were the things that made me so drawn to the community.

I have always contended that I don't share commonality with people who watch Bollywood movies. It's not idli or samosa or sarees which tied me to anyone. What interested me were their voices, the shared experiences. Things we found funny, that we could only appreciate because of our joint experiences. The way Amardeep could dissect an interesting piece of writing. J-money's sassy commentary on food or television or movies or her parents would remind me of some long-lost friend I never knew I had. Or supplesomething's poetic prose. Or maitri's infallible no-bullsh*t breaking-it-down here's-the-way-it-is observations that would make me want to cheer. The little-sisterly feeling tamasha always brought out in me.

Those were the things which caught my interest, made me want to better know these bloggers. In the beginning, in those early days, right before Sepia Mutiny, these bloggers inadvertently encouraged me to blog. And maybe there are too many, and plentiful, and enough voices now. Maybe we don't need Sepia Mutiny, and maybe we don't need blogs. But me, I'm never making any real connections over Twitter. I'll never find myself endeared to someone by discovering their Facebook page. It's the blogs. It's the words. I'm a sucker for words. I'm a sucker for way, way greater than 140 characters. I'm a sucker for more is more. I won't really miss Sepia Mutiny, because I haven't been reading it for years. But I will miss what Sepia Mutiny promised, and the people who brought us Sepia Mutiny. And I already miss all those voices who've grown quiet.

Me, I'll stay in the ancient times, in this echo chamber, with words, words, words. Manish and Abhi and A N N A taught me how, so blame them.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

The problem was, sometime around age 31 I started losing the angst. I felt the angst made me sharp and when I lost it I just didn't have the energy or circumstances to get it back.

Before then, every time I sat down to write on my personal blog I felt like a Samurai warrior going in to battle and wielding words in a new way that no one on the battle field had seen. Wherever my blade fell I felt good and strong. As I got older and more eyes fell upon those words I felt boxed in and I also didn't have as much to say as life responsibilities cut off the time I had available for my mind to wander. How well I write and what I have to say is directly related to how much time I have in a day to daydream.

In a perfect world I'd be rich and successful enough that I could relax and let my mind wander again. And then all I would do is write.

Hope all is well with you! I miss the good old days