My Devil & I: #Anthem 9

There’s a beautiful thought. It is, what I would call, oh-so-bloggable. Yet I do not create a post around that thought. I tell myself, it does not fit in the genre of this blog. My resident devil reminds me that I have many other blogs, where I could post it. There’s a reason you have that many blogs; you believe in genre — post it in one of those. I smile, ever so affectionately to my devil, and shake my head. There isn’t a blog that can accommodate this thought. Start a new blog, exclaims the devil. You are probably the only person who has that many blogs in WordPress history.

095354: Old Plaster

I smile a lot; and I think of myself as a good smiler. (Is that a word?) My best smiles are reserved, however, for when I know I will not do something. Having said that, here’s a note to those who see me smiling. My smile repertoire is massive. And unless you know me very well, you will never know the no-smile. My devil knows it well. He (am not being sexist here, my devil is a man) has seen a fair share of the no-way-smile. I noticed him sulking, while trying to find other avenues of making me post a post about that thought.

“It’s a beautiful thought, you know, it would be such a waste, not to express it,” he tried guilt-tripping me.

I stopped smiling. And there is a reason that smile is rare. I hardly ever say no. Long ago, I realised, saying no, reduces the possibilities. Some experiences are regretful, but in the least, they are educative. They refine our life, even if people around us behave as if, that one experience is the determinant of our life. (For those people, I have a different smile) All experiences enable our life, if we allow them.

“It doesn’t matter,” I told him, “there are other wonderful thoughts, I’ll post about them.”

“Your blog, at your death, will be short of one beautiful post. Can you live with that?”

I smiled. No, not that smile. A generic smile, for the way he had used life and death, cleverly, in one sentence. I offered, “You’ll die with me, how will anyone ever know I thought of that thought? Doesn’t death end regret?”

“Stop being smart with me. I am only your conscience keeper.”

“Oh yeah, if that’s true, who’s that with the white robes?”

“We are both your conscience keepers. We work in shifts. We are the reason your life is so finely balanced.”

I laughed out loud. The rickshaw driver did not react strongly, he wondered why I would be laughing when I wasn’t on my mobile phone.

“No, you don’t work in shifts,” I exclaimed, “you guys fight with each other and make me wonder, what I should do.”

“Stick to the topic. Are you really going to let go of that thought?”

“Yes.”

“And you are willing to let this world be bereft of it, just because you don’t want to post a beautiful thought?”

“No, my dear devil. I’ll post our conversation. Because it is as beautiful as the thought.”

*

I must tell you this; this post did not start as an #AnthemChallenge. It was a real conversation that my devil and I had. But it seemed to me that this is as good a post as any, for me to post my 9th Anthem Post. Part of me is happy, because 9 is my favourite number for unknown reasons. And the song, that is this anthem, is appropriate for this post, which came into being in isolation of this song. That’s how words and songs come together. That is why, some songs are anthems.

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