By Sunil Kumar

Fame, a very mysterious phenomenon. Joanne Kathleen Rowling is world-famous, so is the Indian copywriter Salman Rushdie. Choosing a life of letters is akin to making a deal with a wisp, a date with a mystery. Like everything else in the world, it is very difficult to decipher how a person achieves his fifteen minutes of media-generated frenzy.

Luck, talent, the muse or the goddess of ardent desire. I do not know what creates that vicarious need; or makes a person pass into the pearly gates of fame in the world of today. Terrestrial desire; cruelly mixed with the muscle of finance creates the god of manifest destiny. Then again, we have the hypocritical din of an asocial conscience. I am noble as long as I create more for myself. The opinion-makers of this world are nothing but the person next door transposed by the idiom of a global charade. Videos on social sites can create a global upsurge; what a strange life. So, I can create sentences that you understand. While the rest of the world can be let off on graver grounds. Then the idiocy of the world’s social chicanery. Instant noodles, delivered.

All the world’s a play; and all the men and women merely buffoons. So, today I salute the greatest person in my life, me. Forever.

 

 

 The Writers Dilemma
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