How come people write about so many things? Or rather about everything that is, but also about that is not, as well that will be and may be, forget about things that have been.What makes them write? Is it only meant for some intellectuals to write or can any Tom, Dick and Harry indulge himself in this art – then, is this an art or just a way of venting out what lies dormant within us – as art needs imagination?

Then, my good friend, SAK, a great copy editor, may say, "Guru, anyone can write. Yaar. Even you! Why don't you give it a try?"

Wow! According to him, EVEN I can write. And why not TRY? Well, what have I been doing all these days?

The instant answer is with the Engineer Babu, a smart chap who has some idea about almost all things, except engineering. He would say, "Come on man, not everyone can write. It needs talent and whatever written should have a class. It is not an easy thing. But yes, you can write."

What, I CAN WRITE? Dei, I asked a simple question and did not seek this answer.

If these are not the answers I was searching for, what is it that makes some prolific and, more importantly, better writers?

Does writing require special training such as courses in creative writing and fiction writing offered by some universities and the one done by Kiran Desai or a lot of hardwork (read research) for the genre of writing indulged in by people like Amitav Ghosh, or is it just something innate, for while Truman Capote joined the New Yorker when he was just 17, Gore Vidal started his writing career at 19?

In today's world, where nothing can be taken for granted, no doubts an aspiring writer may prefer studying about writing if not for learning to write, at least to know what his/her style is called in literary parlance and to know about other popular writers. Research comes only in the secondary level, after one has actually started writing.

But I am struck now, not having any clue how to proceed further. God! How that great grand old man of Indian Writing in English still manages to write in his nineties.

May be that is the difference, it is something within him or that he is living every moment of of his life, knowing what exactly he wants, while I am just a wayward. A wayward who does not know where his happiness lies, while he and others like him know exactly what gives them joy – writing – and know how to express themselves. In simple words they want to write. For, they know penning is the purpose of their life -- initially, undaunted whether they are accepted to not, and later understanding that it not about telling stories, but showing and recreating a new world.

Take for instance, Gabriel Garcia Marquez. It is a legend that he started on 'One Hundred of Solitude' after having a vision, while he and his family were their car driving, that he had to tell his stories the way his grandmother did.

This no way can be understood that there was a divine intervention, but that he finally realised the way, he had to write. For, everyone has a story to tell, but not a style or narrate, as the trick lies not in saying what we want but in making the readers see and imagine – not just understand – and experience what is in our mind.

This reminds me of a scene in the film 'Monster in Law' wherein Jlo asks the hero what colour is her eyes, and he goes on beautifully describing them in the colours of brown to green, and thus flooring her.

Hence, may be after relishing the beauty, they yearn to share the experience with others, so that even they could experience it again just by reading their description. Why else would they write, if they don't want to read again?

So does it boil down to this: They, like all of us, have a story to tell, and want to tell, more importantly ready to narrate -- the passionate ones show – and can't rest till they do it, while we – I and my friends – just are not sure of anything, right from whether we have a story to whether we to tell and if yes, how?

So, I blog.

It was a night of surprises. One came from a young guy who, I always thought, was very conservative and timid, but hours before the farewell proved... at least said... that he was more open minded and forward looking and courageous person. In fact more than many Chennai-grown men I have met.

And the second came in the form of a girl.. or was it a woman... sitting alone at a bus stop around 3 am.

Today being the last day here for Felix, before he returns to Kerala after his deputation here, Felix and I started chatting, after work, and the talk turned personal. While talking about family, he, a Mathomite, said one of his brothers had fallen in love with a north Indian Brahmin girl and so he was very upset because it was against their family and tradition and church. The typical conservative stuff.

On hearing this, Reju, who “likes to ask questions to get different views from people” and just joined the talk, started provocating him. Since this is a topic I always avoided, I asked, “Why are you asking questions for the heck of it, when you share the same views?”

This shut Reju's mouth and we changed the topic.

After ten minutes, seeing me sitting alone, when Felix came to explain to me his viewpoint, I said I could understand him and gave an example of college juniors – classmates who had to split after father of the boy, also a Mathomite, had a heart attack on hearing about the affair and so the boy decided to split.

To my surprise, Felix got agitated on hearing this and said that the boy should not leave the girl after falling in love. He became emotional. Reju, who by now had come, confronted Felix asking whether the father should be left to die.

And GOD! Felix says: “ 'Yes I will tell father, anyway you will be alive for maximum ten years. But I can't leave the girl at any cost.' Once I have proposed her I will not accept anyone till my death. Live and die with her. Or else it is a cheating.”

Damn it! Reju was scandalized. Not able to hear anything about going against the family, he tried to provocate Felix further and talked about issues like love for parents. But Felix “the man” was not to budge: “Even in my case where the girl is from my community, I took a long time to decide. But once you are in love, there is no turning back... either live or die for her and nothing else. Death is better than marrying another girl.”

As Reju objected, I interfered: “What would you do Reju? Think well and answer. Have you ever been committed to any girl?”

Now not able to admit that he was not as forward looking and liberal as Felix, his simple reply was: “I have got better things to do than spend time on a girl.”

Whoever said the city-bred were forward-looking or liberal or courageous.

After, bidding adieu to Felix, I left . In the car, I was thinking about the conversation, not knowing how to praise Felix and reminding me that never to judge a person going by appearance, for, human mind is complex. And we won't know who can do what.

As Raju was not driving very fast, I had the luxury was looking outside and enjoying the breeze. Tired, as we started looking out for a road-side tea stall for a break, I suddenly saw a girl (or was it a woman?) sitting with her head bent down and leaning on a pillar at a bus stop on the highway. This was around 3 am and she seemed to be asleep. Sitting alone.

She certainly did not look like a rag picker as her dress – white salwar kameez with orange designs – did not looked soiled. Nor did she look like mentally-deranged for her dress were not torn or creased nor her hair was untidy. I saw her from about 15 feet away under bright light. Moreover as the car was going at 40-50 kmph – searching for a tea stall nearby – I think I could see her properly.

If she was indeed sleeping at that hour there, I think Chennai is really growing. Then, it obviously is heading to become what every woman wants. A safe city.

Now don't ask me if I tried to confirm whether she was safe till morning. I can't know that. But all that I saw was a few men around 15 mtrs from her and sitting together and chatting. Not even turning towards her.

Exception? So what if it was an exceptional or rare case. Remember. Exception when occur frequently become a regular, a habit and a way of life. And finally they start defining you and the city.

What a night!!!

Kudos to you Felix.