This is mainly for the blogging community.
I have often wondered what does my blog mean to me. Finally, the comparison that comes to mind is that of my sons Arjun and Arun when they were small. How I worried about them. How I wished they would do well.
Because of them it became common for me to show interest in other people’s children so that they too would show interest in mine. Earlier, I may have detested people showing volumes of pictures of their children on every conceivable occasion: birthdays, bath, picnic, simply in the cot, drinking milk, standing and looking cute, putting on hat and lapping up attention. But, after Arjun and Arun were born, I welcomed the show of pride of other parents as it gave me opportunity to show them their pictures too. Earlier, when we visited friends and their children wanted to recite ‘twinkle twinkle little star’, we would abruptly change the topic. But, later, with Arjun and Arun, we had something to recite and show of our own. I guess, it is the same with blogging.
Arjun and Arun we had to mind our language. Earlier, when friends were home we could speak all kinds of gibberish. With the blog it is the same. You have to be careful lest you should be misquoted or held accountable for something. If your child, for example, wets his knickers, you’d be embarrassed even though other people also have gone through the same or similar experiences. But wetting knickers, ugh.
But, I think, the biggest similarity is that the wailing of other infants used to cause us considerable discomfiture, if not annoyance. However, after our own child was born, not only that his incessant crying appeared absolutely appealing and cute, but, we had something good to say about other kids crying too. In blogging too, we do find renewed zeal about other bloggers’ utterances or even screams. There appears to be lots of merit in these as long as they forgive us our own trespasses.
Lets not forget surprises. You discover things about your children virtually on everyday basis, especially when they are small. It is not different with your blog. Wherever you go, you want to take your child with you, as close to your chest as possible; and so it is with your blog.
Your child’s marks in exam were as if your own marks. Your blog’s rank too reflects the same emotions. Nothing of your blog, just like nothing of your child, can be a secret. You are known by both.
Here is another great similarity: you have enormous anxiety about whether your child would do well; whether he would be appreciated; whether he’d speak, walk and run. Ditto with the blog.
Names are important for both. As Guru Granth Sahib says, “Changa naam rakhayi ke jas kirat jag le.” (By keeping a good name you (hope to) earn a lot of fame and repute in this world). Similarly, the name of your child or blog has to be in sync with what you want him/it to become.
And what about the first time? Do you remember the first time your child said something? For whatever it is worth, all he may have said was “goo”, but, you were walking on cloud nine. Don’t you think it is the same with the blog? It appears inane to you, Sir? Well, don’t forget it is not cut and pasted. It is as original as my son’s “goo” or “ta ta ta”. Today, it is “goo”, ma’am. Tomorrow, he’d write poetry better than Shakespeare.
There used to be any number of children of Arjun’s age who would rattle out poetry, history, current affairs and facts and were accomplished in games or other hobbies such as photography. Parents used to show off their medals and awards and trophies. I used to spend sleepless nights thinking why was my child not as smart. Now too, I look around and see superbly laid out blogs with excellent google page ranks, Alexa ranks and other ranks. And then I look at my own; why can’t my child do as well?
I feel like Waheeda Rehman singing to her newly conceived child in ‘Mujhe Jeene Do’ (Let Me Live):
But after praying, I become full of anxiety)
Could I have adopted a fully grown blog? But then, it won’t entirely have been my own. Also, it would probably signal to the world that I don’t have the spunk to father one of my own.
So, dear readers, as my child fumbles its way through its childhood, forgive it if its babbling and baby-talk does not have the intellectual bent that you all are used to. It stands and falls, falls and stands; but, eventually it would learn to run and even climb hills.
Sunbyanyname, my child, I am your father and mother rolled into one. Come last in the class, if you wish to. Be a laggard in sports if you can’t help it. Dawdle your way through. However, don’t ever cheat. Also, don’t ever be afraid to say what you feel is right. Whatever you become, I want you to stand on your own.
It isn’t a race, my son. In your style of doing things, you would always be Number One to me.
Your rank will always be the highest to me.
Twinkle, twinkle little star,
How I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
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