Inspiration (or How it began)

One of the most difficult things to come by in a situation like mine is inspiration. I am currently lying at home, wallowing in an absolutely tension-free environment – a nirvana disquieted mainly by rumblings of the stomach, only to be instantly satisfied by mom’s cuisine; noises from the TV or AC or the odd phone call; and the bed creaking beneath oneself more and more as one’s “health” enhances. Lack of inspiration results in lack of evidence for the same – hence no blogging.

In such paradise, the occasional inspiration one comes across can only be while recounting earlier experiences and contrasting the mad rush of “normal” life with one’s pleasantly serene surroundings. What one therefore needs is a diversion, if you could call something causing one to break away from eating, sleeping and watching TV a diversion.

To break the monotony of sedative life, I decided to read a few books. This also meant a trip to the bookshop, which in turn implied getting off the bed. And with the hot Delhi Sun outside, it was an admittedly difficult thing to do. But sometimes, you have to do what you have to do. So after weeks of symbiosis with my Kurlon mattress, I had to bid it goodbye, with only my ancient buttmarks left as a token of appreciation. A few hours later, it was done. I now had the first two parts of the Wheel of Time, Dune, Mein Kampf, Contact, Airport and a GRE guide to act as diversions.

The other books were really interesting, but the book that gave me the most inspiration was Mein Kampf. It talks about Hitler’s struggle – his childhood, his notions about polity and society, and more stuff that I haven’t read about yet.

Don’t write me off as a Nazi just yet. The most important realisation was yet to come. That dawned upon me as soon as I had reached page 237 and felt annoyed at having been duped. Mein Kampf is full of high sounding but meaningless propaganda which makes very very boring reading. No wonder Hitler wasn’t taken seriously at the beginning of the World War. The leaders must’ve read the book and just thrown it away asking for a good cup of tea or some cheese.

If this guy could write this unreadable crap and sell six million copies of it, then I too can write a blog full of crap and not feel bad about it. It was the best inspiration I’ve had in years.