According to a number of people I know, bloggers and non-bloggers, the best way to get your voice heard above the multitude of identical others jostling around in BlogSpace, is to write a blog. I am still part of the uninitiated, with only a vague notion of what blogging is, and a firm one that my voice isn't exactly what BlogSpace ordered, or what others would find a fascinating read... Still, for what it's worth, this will be my occasional holler to the world at large. Hulloa, everyone!
I have a question, though, for anyone who cares to listen, let alone lift weary fingers onto overused keyboards worn with the blogger's alleged instinct of penning (typing...?) the most insignificant of thoughts. And this is a question for anyone who, for whatever reason, has left his/her own hometown, either of their own volition or at the insistence of the over-eager, under-protective, ultra-modern Indian parent. If you shift base to a different city, do you become a Roman, being one amongst the many? Or do you point out to anyone who cares to listen, the various extents to which your 'home' scores over the new place?
Unfortunately, the standing instructions which every subconscious seems to provide to the self-righteous, apparently omniscient (as far as knowing what is good for oneself), indignant immigrant is to rant to a sympathetic listener, who would later inevitably turn out to be an equally incensed replica, about the fact that the current city he occupies is irredeemably foul, rigidly uncaring, devoid of everything that could have made it a desirable habitat (which seems to primarily include the edibility of food), and apparently filled with people whose sole purpose in life is to ensure the utter misery of immigrants.
However, it is to such enlightened, yet unfortunate mortals that I would like to humbly point out that it is perhaps somewhat unreasonable to expect to be treated like the proverbial king returning from victory. However contrary it may be to the evidently firm belief that every organic and inorganic piece of matter should strive their utmost to welcome the unwilling immigrant, the diurnal workings of a city and its inhabitants is not (inexplicably...!) centered around the uprooted and the frantic.
I, for one, would like to believe so. It's a cliché, I know, but if you do try and become the proverbial Roman, life turns out to be so much simpler, and actually worth living!
I have a question, though, for anyone who cares to listen, let alone lift weary fingers onto overused keyboards worn with the blogger's alleged instinct of penning (typing...?) the most insignificant of thoughts. And this is a question for anyone who, for whatever reason, has left his/her own hometown, either of their own volition or at the insistence of the over-eager, under-protective, ultra-modern Indian parent. If you shift base to a different city, do you become a Roman, being one amongst the many? Or do you point out to anyone who cares to listen, the various extents to which your 'home' scores over the new place?
Unfortunately, the standing instructions which every subconscious seems to provide to the self-righteous, apparently omniscient (as far as knowing what is good for oneself), indignant immigrant is to rant to a sympathetic listener, who would later inevitably turn out to be an equally incensed replica, about the fact that the current city he occupies is irredeemably foul, rigidly uncaring, devoid of everything that could have made it a desirable habitat (which seems to primarily include the edibility of food), and apparently filled with people whose sole purpose in life is to ensure the utter misery of immigrants.
However, it is to such enlightened, yet unfortunate mortals that I would like to humbly point out that it is perhaps somewhat unreasonable to expect to be treated like the proverbial king returning from victory. However contrary it may be to the evidently firm belief that every organic and inorganic piece of matter should strive their utmost to welcome the unwilling immigrant, the diurnal workings of a city and its inhabitants is not (inexplicably...!) centered around the uprooted and the frantic.
I, for one, would like to believe so. It's a cliché, I know, but if you do try and become the proverbial Roman, life turns out to be so much simpler, and actually worth living!
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