Or, can this be challenged?
Naturally, you think, if there is no text, how can its reader exist? But, texts are not born out of the air. Texts are not written for none.
They are targeted to someone. When I read my daily journal, and make that private with specific settings, am I being transformed?
Am I born again, after the text is born? Does that give birth to a new me, inside the apparently same physical brain?
I create the text. So, I can proudly call myself its creator.
But, am I self-born? Who created me, created this text too?
Long back, in the university days, we all went through Eliot's questions.
We all accepted the role of traditions in the birth of individual talents. We learnt to see ourselves as mediums - as the vessel.
The tradition flowed through the vessels, modified with time.
Each vessel produced a separate text. Each text furthered a string of texts.
These texts demand to be read. Rarely anyone reads them.
We learn to celebrate the texts. We learn to bow before them, never questioning their birth.
This blog tries to do that.
In a modest way.
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