Skip to main content

The Season of Festivals

“On this day we shut out Nothing!”—Charles Dickens    

To be surrounded by people who care about you is always a nice feeling, one of the ever charming feelings a human being remembers all through his lifetime. It is to light this gleaming dot, once again, in the mind of all of us; we celebrate, move close to each other and share the warmth of love and the smile of care. But what would we do when we are with solitude? Before the numbness of loneliness corrodes your joy, you must want to celebrate. You either create a reason to celebrate, or a wait for a festival to warm you up with nearness, laughter, and stories.

We are very close to the grandest celebration of the year: Christmas. Like every year, The Indian Commentator too is participating in the vibe of the time. There is hardly any difference between a festival and the smile that follows a story, much due to the unignorable relationship between festivals and stories. Every festival is preceded by a story, or it could be the other way round too.

It’s all the same all over the world, how we all enjoy, stories being told by some one around a fire at night. Therefore, this interconnection is not at all strange. Stories are inevitable part of festivals. It’s curious to think why we like stories; different sorts of them, some terrifying, some soothing, some sad, some joyous. The reason for liking stories might be the fun they give us, or it might be the sojourn they make us capable of taking in some far distant land of fairies or people, fighting their battles and living their lives, sometimes, or just the pleasure of looking into their worlds, without doing much, just as an observer.

But this is not all. There is one more reason why we all love to listen to tales, and if possible try to tell them ourselves. The reason is not much the aesthetic craving to indulge in the creation of a form of art. It is a different desire, a desire as old as the story of humanity itself: togetherness.   

I was feeling lonely; and so decided to celebrate the lack of numbers of readers in my blog, my loneliness. Though I know my readers always keep me in their hearts and are waiting for me just in the turn of the corner, I confess I miss you all.

There has been a situation in my blog when the number of readers visiting each day took a dip down from about 200 to 70s. The reason for this dip could be the less number of posts I made, which in turn owes to many of my professional worries and also the death of my grandmother. The loss in my life seems interconnected with the loss to my blog, and both these losses, I feel, will be compensated with the help of a Higher Authority.   

With the hope that once again we all, and a lot of new friends, will come together and sit around a fire and share our stories, I hear by announce The Season of Celebration. This Season of Celebration will continue until the New Year’s Eve. You bring some fire, you share some cakes, you sweets, you some milk, you some fruit juice, you sausages, and I will bring stories.

Today's Readers: 105   
[Image Courtesy: Google Images]

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

ANCIENT PROMISES BY JAISHREE MISRA: Janu and Arjun

Ancient Promises is Jaishree Misra's debut book with a fresh narrative voice in comparison with the other novelists of her time.
An unforgettable story, told in first person narrative, Ancient Promises combines in its narrative strategy, romance, myth and social criticism. Jane Austen succeeded in bringing irony in her novels, through interesting and poignant observations, which were most often witty as well. Taking the same line of novel-writing strategy, Jaishree Misra gives opportunity for readers to enjoy the book in multiple perspectives than just a single faceted love story.
Of course, Janu, the protagonist is the narrator and this is her story. However, this is also the story of Kerala and its marriage customs. Many irrational and unjust customs still exist in this southern land situated in India's south. Many European cultures have established trade relations with Kerala, even before the time of the British. But in the long run, it can also be observed that the nature …

Spam Luck

Our client is looking for 100 English writers; we could pay up to $10,000/month with bonuses for writers who deliver good content on a regular basis. No experience required. Payment via Paypal, Check, or a Bank Wire.
Mithun Vadakkedathu signed out. But he did not forget to mark the mail he just read as spam. He had been signing up in job sites and this has become his day job.
The previous week he had gone to the Parassinikadavu temple and paid for Vellaattam, the worship dance for pleasing Muthappan, the deity of Parassinikkadavu temple, the ancient God of the commoner.
He groped in his wallet which had holes inside and threads were coming off from its bottom. The outer layer of rexine was removed from many places by time.
Mithun took out three pieces of paper, three tickets: one red, one grey, one pale white in colour. He murmured; “O God, all my prayers, all the Vellaattam I paid for are gone without purpose. I must have done something terrible that I still do not know myself. Perhap…

DELHI IS NOT FAR BY RUSKIN BOND: A Love Story without Losses

“…and I know that this one lifetime, however long, cannot satisfy my heart” (111).
__ Ruskin Bond
The Commentator says; When it’s about love, some believe it’s natural to make mistakes. The truth is ‘mistakes’ and ‘love’ do not coexist. Mistakes are not love. Love is not a mistake. Before the book review, let me recount to you a love story flew by my life a couple of months back. As some of you know, I love blogging. As some others of you are well aware, more than blogging, I love the experience of writing. Blog or my other publishing ventures, this love for writing is at the core of it all. A couple of months before, I had thought of writing a review of the book Delhi is Not Far by Ruskin Bond, author of The Lamp is Lit. Opening a word document, I wrote the title of the book with the author’s name as a ‘clever’ appendage. Then I kept it to gather some inspiration and relevance. Then I forgot. To be more precise, I pushed the priority to love to another rather unimportant spot and, for…