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In spite of the fact that I can make a post out of nothing, many times I feel quite small for writing what are deemed inconsequential posts. Not that I have promised anyone that I will write posts of consequence. The only promise I have ever made is to myself, and that is to be always true to my own self. But I digress. I was talking of how I feel really small. One trivia before I get back on track: If you consider me vertically, I am indeed quite small standing at five feet nothing. Totally unconnected to the topic, but there you have it.

When I look around and see the stuff people write, the purpose in their writings, the clear-cut goals they seem to have, the dedication they display, the inspiration they provide, their usefulness to people; that is when I feel really small. Here are people ‘making a difference’ to others in life! And what about me? I am churning out stuff of no practical use to anyone. No one comes here and reads what I have written and goes away a changed person, inspired and enlightened, determined to turn over a new leaf and make good the rest of their life.

Then I remember something from the past. While growing up I wanted so very much to learn to dance. But it was not to be. I made up my mind then itself not to stand in the way of my children if/when they expressed a desire to learn something, whatever it be. So imagine my happiness when the First Born told me one day that he wanted to learn break-dance, the rage of the times. He must have been around eleven at the time. I found a place that taught the dance form close enough to our house, took him there, got him enrolled, and returned home pleased.

When the day arrived, the sun was up and shone, but the son wouldn’t rise. Nothing would induce him to leave his cozy bed in exchange for the joy of throwing his limbs in abandon to music. And when once up, he wanted to watch cartoons. It is Sunday, Amma! After a couple of weeks of trying to motivate him to follow HIS dream, I wisely gave up.

It occurred to me that just because dance meant so much to me did not mean that his desire was as strong. Perhaps it had been a whim. When I thought about it it occurred to me that it was not necessary for all of us to be performers of an art form. Art needed audience too, to watch the performers and appreciate them, as important a role in life as any.  As the poet said, “They also serve who only stand and wait.”

It is somewhat similar in writing too. We who blog are not all motivators or those that inspire others to greatness or even those who provide enlightenment. Those are specialized skills and need a lot of dedication. Some of us are mere clowns, I being one of them, and play the role of making tense situations lighter with nonsensical chatter and verbal somersaults, like the clowns physically achieve at the circus when you have almost made a meal of your nails watching trapeze artists do their act or the lion-tamers, theirs.

Clowns too have their place in the scheme of things. May be not always, but yes, most times, I am that clown, and keep you occupied till the next heart-stopping performance comes on in the blog-world.  And when I remember that I no longer feel small, in spite of being vertically small.

©Shail Mohan 2015

NaBloPoMo November 2015