I’ve been thinking about my first post on a new blog for a couple of months now. And here’s what I learnt. You can’t think up a blog. Nope, you can’t plan it in your head while you’re standing in the kitchen simmering baby peas and potatoes. You can’t make a mental outline of everything you want to write, so all that’s left in the end is typing it out in five minutes. You actually have to grab your laptop and start writing. The thinking comes later. Somehow, baby food and a grown up blog, just don’t go together.
When I finally came up with a site, which WordPress gave me a hard time creating by the way, I was baffled about trying to find a suitable first entry. And it is turning out harder by the minute. Why do we attach so much value to the firsts? Like a first post has to mean something special, or set the tone for the future of this blog, or speak volumes about my writing? When honestly, I’m pretty sure no one is reading this blog yet, and this post is only my own personal diary sort of thing.
And yet, the pressure we put on the first post, the first job, first paycheck, first kiss. Your first kid’s first day in school, which was today by the way. Little Viraaj looked all grown up in shiny shoes, crisp white shirt and neatly pressed shorts. Hair neatly done, so unlike him. It’s not even close to easy leaving your child in the care of a stranger for the first time, no matter how sweet and well experienced the teacher looks. It’s not easy leaving your little one in a classroom for the first time. And yet, no matter how much you fuss, or how much you try to prepare the kiddo (or yourself) for the big first day, it’s really mostly up to the kid how he/she wants to handle it.
Another important first was the first time I went back to Bangalore as a ‘No-Longer-Bangalorean’. It was six months after being married and having settled up north, and it was the first time I had been away from Bangalore for so long. It was also the first time I flew alone.Landing at Bangalore International Airport, breathing in that Bangalore air, and soaking up in Bangalore rain that came just in time, I couldn’t help myself. I cried. Right there outside the airport. Weirdly smiling and crying at the same time. Big, no huge, tears gushing down with a velocity of their own. It was a strangely bittersweet experience. I was happy, oh so happy to be back. And yet, oh so sad. I was just a visitor this time, with a return ticket at that. Marriage is hard. Leaving your home, your loved city behind and moving in with a total stranger for the first time, well, it’s just hard.
The first love, first breakup, first time realizing that you can be so wise as to love and so foolish as to cry over someone, is a whole different experience.
The first time your boss says, good job kid…! That’s wow! Just, WOW!
The first time you hold your newborn baby, that insanely beautiful, soft, pink, almost whimsical little creature, and you think to yourself, I made that! Its uncanny how that life threatening, nerve racking, bollywood style screaming pain you were just going through, thinking you’ll never make it out of this alive, simply disappears the very moment you hear that baby cry for the first time.
Life is full of wonderful firsts. And the only way to deal with the fuss over them, is to not fuss. Just let it happen. What’s the worst that could be? You’ll end up not getting too many people to read and rave over your first post. Well, not a problem. There will be a second. And a third. And many more. And you’ll get you share of comments and raves. C’est la vie baby! No pressure 😀