“I was with my herd, learning to hunt. The other day, I saw my neighbor stalk a worthy prey — a bison — too close and get kicked off. I remembered it. I wonder if the bison remembers it. I carefully lifted up my head to see what is above the bushes. I spotted the bison, and I signaled the same to my herd. I was given the task of keeping a vigil and watch. Vigil – so that any of the big cat doesn’t reduce our numbers. And, watch – so that I can ensure that the herd never sleeps empty-stomach.
Suddenly, the bison gets distracted. Did he notice me? Yes, he did — for he was running away from my direction. I shouted and ran to get that bison. I was angry that a bovine got the better of a Homo Sapiens. The herd got the cue and came to my support. That night, the toast was on me. The King was very pleased with me, and presented me with the bison’s horns. It’s a rare honor.
Why am I writing all of this, on a coconut leaf, in a pictorial format? Do I want anyone to read it? Do I wish to be famous? Do I crave for anything apart from food? I write, simply for the sake of it”, read the analyst who had just deciphered a pictograph barely visible on a dried coconut leaf he found in an excavation site.
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“I visited the royal durbar today. The grandeur, the luxury, and the jewelry blinded my eyes. I was actually invited, along with my father’s troupe. Once the Shehensehah dropped his silk kerchief, my father started his circus show. He is a ring master, you know. He has tamed many an animal, including a wolf.
You may be laughing and sneering that lions and tigers are more dangerous than a wolf. But, let me assure you, you would’ve never seen a wolf perform in a circus. Wolves are full of pride. They listen either to themselves or to the pack leader.
My father tamed a wolf because he was the one who raised it. But, that is a secret nobody knows. Not even the Shehenshah. No wonder everybody was in awe. I saw everybody’s eyes wide open in excitement and exhilaration. My father glanced towards me, and I can tell that he is happy too.
I performed the final act. I patted the wolf’s head, opened his jaws and entered my head in it. Everybody shouted ‘Ooooo!’ not knowing that I was the one who fed the wolf that very afternoon. I know animals are never greedy, they eat only when they are hungry. They don’t stock their kills.
The show ended with the Princess herself gifting me her golden necklace.
Why am I writing all of this, on a piece of paper, in Urdu script? Do I want anyone to know of my father’s secrets? Do I wish to be a whistleblower? I write, simply for the sake of it”, read a Urdu scholar who found this piece of paper stuffed inside a wooden horse dating back to 1700 AD.
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“I am reading a book called ‘The book thief’. It is a book of a totally different genre. Death is a narrator in it, and it’s set in WW-2 era Germany. As I am reading the book, my mind is wandering in all directions and timeframes, and is wondering whether I should (also) write something.
I switched my laptop on, opened my OneNote, and began to type whatever came to my mind. After a minute or so, one question was coming in my head incessantly. ‘Why are you writing it?’, kept ticking in my head. I began to think.
Why is it that I write? To impress the opposite or same sex? To get published? Or to get more likes? None of the answers seemed to satiate me. It then dawned on me. All these years, ever since I’ve thought of making writing a prospective hobby, I’ve been writing for the sake of it. Then, why? Why do I need any better reason to write? What better purpose can there be, than to write just for the sake of it? When you write to impress, you are no longer writing. You are living up to the expectations of the reader. When you write to get published, you are no longer writing. You are commercializing your brain. When you are writing to get more likes, you are not writing. You are giving in to the herd culture, limiting your perspective to that of the herd’s.
I am. I am the only one of my kind. And, I write for the sake of it”, read an avid Facebooker from the page she follows regularly.
Refuge 