A lot of running around and grumbling later the summit is over and I'm heaving a sigh of relief. Sitting through endless sessions of gibberish and sleepily masked yawns later, I have realised what it takes to be on the road, wiping off the grime and legging it some more in the garb of a reporter. I always cribbed when they asked me about my role as a producer. To me that was silly, to sit behind a comp, with all the controls in my hand, trying to dole out news bulletins under the nicely chilled AC sipping on coffee.
Life's weird. The choices we have and make are weirder. I always thought my life has been about surviving the impossible and then coming out into the open with another folly. Then I got married and thought it was the smartest thing I ever did, to settle down with somebody who embodied pretty much all that I wanted on certain levels. (after all perfect matches look only good on television!) I was in love and we were determined that we would make it work.
But reverting to square one, there have been times I have wandered into the studio and felt so at home...when the controls were buzzing, when my ear-piece is in place, and I am yelling at the director to cut from here to there even as I mumble into the anchor's ears little tit bits about what I am showing on TV. When reams of tapes and shots have gone amiss and I have to run a 6 hour special, I have felt so at ease, not a thought astray. But somehow all the glory I wanted and still seek from television seem to be the only ones denied me. I wanted to stand amidst a burning mob passing on information to my studio, to be atop a tree doing my link even as the camera about me whirred in pics of the minister talking to the PM before he hopped onto a flight...I wanted more than my 5 minutes of fame, and they didn't want me to have exactly that!
So what was that one big irreversible flaw in me that prevented them from allowing me to follow my dream? I haven't yet understood the reason behind the conspiracy, but there it is in public domain, tormenting me, forcing me to question my choices, my academic pursuits and a lot more...
Fast forward....lost in this unbecoming city....searching for another chance to push my foot within those eluding walls....to chase my dream...and see it translated into tangible shots of fame....no yet again the forces are at work...now I have to question my belief, my confidence and a whole lot else.
So I look for short change...and now I am basking in the glory of something that lends me a different yet extremely visible and slightly lasting high. I write to be known. Some read, some set aside, but my name shall glare back vehemently at one and all and expect and chide to be read.
In some unfathomable way shall I console myself that I have but arrived though in a planet known only to those unknown bennys?
Hmmm till I decipher this one for my self I shall take leave...
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