A year and a half later, I wake up and decide to write for the sake of my readership, both of whom have pestered me enough to revive my blog. As I look through my older posts, I realize I have embarrassed myself in public way too many times to let it bother me now.
Then comes in the next bit. What do I write about? Should I write about politics or the environment or poverty or hunger? Or should I blabber for a little longer, write random things, make a blog post out of nothing and end it before anyone realizes they just wasted two minutes of their lives they are never getting back (the usual)?
Inspiration hits me. And I decide to write about something I re-discovered recently.
The beauty of conversations.
Long, deep, interesting, unending conversations. Conversations that keep you up all night, and get interesting by the minute. Conversations that may start with a question or an innocuous remark but end with narrations of anecdotes, expression of feelings, confession of doubts and acceptance of fears.
Conversations that make you think, introspect. Conversations that make you go silent, that keep you up when you are in for some sleep.
They may be few and far between, but they are worth the wait and the effort. The effort that comes with ignoring the cell phone, and blocking every piece of information we could do without.
Easier ‘said’ than done? Maybe.