Anish Easwar
Senior Copywriter
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Questions I Ask The Mirror

Ancient superstition suggests that mirrors reflect the shadow of our soul and that we can truly see who we are, in our reflection. While I am not the most avid believer in the words of our ancients, I have, on more than one occasion, asked myself some difficult questions in the hope that my subconscious would hold the answer. 

This blog represents nothing more that a few opinions and a lot of insecurities relating to the events that occur in my day to day life, that have been extracted from the deepest depths of my journal. I put these thoughts into words not because I seek answers. Neither do I strive to be understood through this medium nor do I search for closure. 

This book is in existence simply because I believe that the truth is an author’s greatest asset while writing a piece of fiction. 

Indulgence

For the start of an important habit, I chose quite an unimportant day. That was probably because I pushed the day I start maintaining a journal back by 11 months and 10 days. My first words perfectly symbolized the procrastination of this wonderful habit. “This is stupid. When did it become suddenly normal to deal with our issues by showcasing it on a platform for the world to see and judge while hiding behind a veil of aliases and anonymity.” I couldn’t deny that that there was a story within me that deserved to be told. Whether it deserved to be read is however, a completely a different matter. How self obsessed must people be in order for them to write about their lives, habits and thoughts? I argued that what I was doing was completely different because my writing skills were slightly better and therefore my thoughts must be far more profound. 

I realized 2 things. That I was no different from the millions of people who think that the thoughts that pass through their mind will blow the mind of all of mankind and that I was one judgmental asshole, which didn’t bother me as much as it should have. Because in my industry, we make a living by taking small observations and often adding our own spin to it. That where most people see information, we see a story. Give us some color and we can give you a painting. We may not always show you what you see but we will convince you that it is what you should be seeing. 

That bothered me a little. That we had such power to shape the human perception. That in the in the hands of a persuasive author, fiction can be fact. That he with the loudest voice will also have the truest tale. But then I thought of those numerous men and women who didn’t have these pages to hold their stories. I considered the power of the written word and the international implication of a single opinion. I must have been unimaginably self obsessed to feel that way but that didn’t stop those before me and I didn’t see why it should stop me. 

Because in its simplest form, this journal is the telling of my story, not a tale of woe, not an idea meant to spark a revolution. Just a story. My history, seen from my eyes. And I recognized that it may give birth to judgement, but I didn’t fear it. On the other hand, I welcomed it. Because for every few thousand stories that pass unnoticed, this was one that would find it’s voice. And if the reading of this causes another story, possibly more worthy of notice to be written, then this one has served it’s purpose.

Anish EaswarComment