by The British Asian Blog
Okay, so maybe I was in two minds up until now, especially after my last post ‘the chronicles between Simren and I’. Soon after publishing the last post, I had decided with warranted reasons I must add, that I wouldn’t write or blog about it anymore. All, what I had written so far about Simren and I, was done with great pain and sting. What I had written, the candor expressed, although anonymously and arcane, still did make me nervous and for many reasons. My decision was made.
Now, somehow and in someway, my personal experience and in general the ‘happenings’ between Simren and I, has attracted attention. Thanks to my followers and readers and to their perusal, who contacted me either via my blog or email, encouraged me to continue, admittedly taken back by the response. Continue in sharing the episodes between us, and I am somewhat persuaded in making every effort, more than ever and with more determination to keep you guys in touch with it all, and where I find myself unable to repudiate.
This type of attention and determination brings me back to my days at boarding school somewhere in Berkshire. It was there, at the tender age of 13, a nervous and truculent British Asian boy with a wanton attitude entered an intimidating environment, which later shaped his character to what he is today. I guess a dedicated blog post about this is on the horizon. It was there, in that very boarding school that salient preference was given to writing, and handwriting in particular – irrelevant of who you were, which family you belonged to, which internal house you were in, and what great things you may be aligned to do where the history of this boarding school was hard to ignore. We were encouraged to write, not type, despite every student been given a laptop, and write anything and about everything. It was a way of expressing, letting out the demons, capturing what needed to be said on a fresh piece of paper, neatly bound together to form a navy blue hardback writing book – where each new page screamed out for my imagination, feelings and thoughts, helped by the creepy, suspicious harry potter type of dark and cold environment.
From the many years I spent in that environment, as my age ticket by so did the habit of writing. Writing, before long, became normal but a method to free yourself of all the anger, hate, reservations, confusion and reasons why you just didn’t want to be there, away from family and away from your real world.
Since then, till now, the only visible change is the replacement of that navy blue hardback writing book to this blog. Then, whatever was written wasn’t for the public domain, but today it is. although written anonymously.
If you have had the pleasure of reading about me, you will notice a strong dedication of learning, of educating beyond aberration or expectations of many. That’s right, I continue to educate myself in many forms. This can only be achieved by writing and reading. Both writing and reading compliment each other and go hand in hand. In my case, writing helps me make sense of things, a kind of birds eye view of things, which otherwise is simply impossible. As far as my situation with Simren is concerned – meticulous writing about it – as and how it is – helps me understand the entire situation, a sort of roadmap with a birds eye view – on what the terrain looks like, and, what I am taking on no matter how lurid or modicum it is.
Considering the above, I will now make every effort to post regularly about our story – exactly as it happens and unfolds, even if it is morose. I envisage to post once every two weeks the very least and without word limit restrictions. This is in addition to writing about everything else surrounding British Asians.
Yes, I may piss some of you off, I may also annoy some of you by the methods I adopt to achieve the desired result – I may even encourage some of you in your fight for that right person, a sort of panacea if you like. I may give courage to others that it is worth every effort. I may even provide you with some entertainment and repartee – albeit at my own expense..
So, on that note, Que le jeu commence…