4 years of Brooding in the Tepid Dusk

4 years ago, on a particularly dreary night, I took the decision of starting a blog. I never gave it too much thought; came up with the name ‘Brooding in the Tepid Dusk’ and thus began my journey of writing all the things I can probably never say in person.

Ironically, today I find myself short of words to express how grateful I am to anyone who has ever visited BITD. The real purpose of this blog was for me to open up. To talk about things that I can’t talk about with people around me.
To make sense of the world I live in.

I never thought anyone would ever bother reading what I wrote here. That this place would be a void where I rambled away the confusion in my mind. But in these 4 years, I made so many friends here, interacted personally with so many of you.

I was stunned, that people on this blog not only read what I wrote, but also understood. They empathized and I even received some very loving e-mails from people of so many countries.

It’s crazy how important this blog has become to me. It’s the place I go to when I’m not okay. Somehow, all of you, you wonderful WordPress community makes it okay.

I grew up learning from all of you. I was 18 when I started writing here, when I was going through, what I call the most emotionally challenging period of life so far and this blog got me through all of it. You guys got me through all of it.

I once read this thought that the idea is to not live forever, but to leave something behind that does.

I feel really fortunate to think that if someday I’m not here, at least this little space I created on the internet always will. The things I wrote here will stay. All the people I’ve interacted with will, at some point in their life, remember me.

So from the bottom of my heart, thank you. For assuring me that all these thoughts in my mind make sense.

122 Posts, 841 followers, 16435 blog hits, 1790 shares, 2984 likes.

And I’m only getting started.

 

Love always,

Your blogger.

Jane Austen: My Respite in a Decadent World

I have often been ridiculed for my irrevocable love for Jane Austen. Somehow, the people around me cannot adjust to the ‘dreary, jaded and cliched’ stories of Jane, often labeling them as predictable. My love for Austen was ignited when I first watched the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice where a young, green eyed Darcy (the unbelievably gorgeous Matthew MacFadyen) pours his love for the stunning Elizabeth Bennett (Keira Knightley.)

I knew I was hooked and proceeded on reading all of Jane Austen’s works and found in them, a sense of companionship and understanding. Her stories were soothing and were remarkably successful in extirpating, even for a brief period, any strands of hopelessness or grief.

Jane had a proclivity to bestow upon her stories triumphant, happy endings. In Mansfield Park, she remarks, ‘Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery. I quit such odious subjects as soon as I can, impatient to restore everybody, not greatly in fault themselves, to tolerable comfort, and to have done with all the rest.’

December 18th, 2017 will mark 200 years of her death. If the literary genius had even an ounce of idea of what her books have done, how they’re worshiped, vehemently debated and discussed, admired and looked up to, shared and cherished, read in schools and colleges- all this after two complete centuries- she would beam with joy and perhaps tell us a little more about Darcy.

From the surface, and specially to men who find reading drama not ‘masculine’ enough, her books might appear like a simple, everyday romance.

But her stories and characters are unabashedly real. They don’t exude unrealistic courage or over enthusiastic proclamations of love or betrayal. They’re simple, meaningful and are a precise embodiment of human emotions. Her characters are just as vulnerable, and just as unsure as we are. They struggle with human follies, make sacrifices and learn from their mistakes.

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Jane’s world in the 18th Century was plagued with patriarchy and subjugation of women. She was a critic of societal hypocrisy and unfairness and made it evident in her novels with sharp criticism masked in solemn observations and witty remarks. So Jane, through her writing, was secretly rebelling against the patriarchy at that time. She created strong female characters who were capable of standing up for themselves- like Elizabeth Bennett or Elinor Dashwood– a trait not much admired by her milieu.

So personally, Jane will always be my respite. Often when I find myself troubled over an issue, I pick my copy of Pride and Prejudice and leaf through its pages; reading lines I’d underlined and paragraphs that still never fail to appease me.

I like to call her work as the modern day rendition of fairy tales. They possess a remarkable healing ability and leave you with an assurance that things will get better. And when the world around you is constantly plagued with hatred, anguish and cold wars, it is soothing to delve deep into a story that promises, unlike the world around you, a happy, satisfied ending.

I will always be grateful that she graced our world. That she created characters that will stay with me, that I look up to. And for giving us hope, that somewhere in a far fetched land, comfortably perched inside a dimly lit cafe, there is a Darcy waiting for us, equally earnest and hopeful.


You can read more of my work here.

If you wish to watch the best adaptation of P&P, watch the BBC 1995 version. It’s precise, sticks to the book and shows the details.

My ranking of Jane Austen’s work:

  1. Pride and Prejudice.
  2. Northanger Abbey.
  3. Persuasion.
  4. Sense and Sensibility.
  5. Mansfield Park.
  6. Emma.

 

Happy Anniversary to Me!

So 24th of August, 2014 marks the 1 year anniversary of my blog. I’d like to take a moment and thank all of my wonderfully supportive and brilliant followers. This wouldn’t have been possible without you all. I cannot begin to explain how much this means to me and to what infinite extent I’m elated..

Writing has always been and will always be my second love. First being music. An year before I used to scribble all my thoughts into a diary. A place where I used to take it all out. All those things and all the countless emotions that create a storm in my head. I have so much brimming inside my mind’s vessel, that I’m afraid if it doesn’t come out, I’m going to explode.

I write to give myself solace. Not for competition, not for keeping myself busy, but for my own selfish self. To take in the world and give it back in differently. I write about my obsession. My cogitative mind luring me into penning down what goes on inside of me. I’d perceive myself as a little different from others. People may not see it the first time they meet me. But all those who’ve managed to climb the wall I’ve built around me, know it well enough.

I feel a little misunderstood. It never comes out correctly when I try to speak. However, it emerges magically when I let my fingers do the job. I hope what I write touches someone’s heart somewhere. I hope it can calm their turbulence just like it calms mine. And I pray that whether and if there is someone who is hanging on to my writings, he continues getting all the composure and calm he needs.

I wish I could tinkle a glass of champagne with all those people who’ve been a part of this incredulous journey. I’m incredibly euphoric and I deeply wish you all understand my delight.  Thank you all again. Cheers!

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