We walk. We trek. We go places. We see places.
But, some of them turn out to be historically monumental. Like this one.
Gudiyam Caves, a remote topographic spot in the neighborhood of Chennai – Poondi region, to be precise – was home to the stone-age man of Lower Palaeolithic Age, a.k.a the Early Old Stone Age. 500,000 B.C. to 250,000 B.C., that is.
Look at such places with such knowledge – however minuscule – the whole experience transforms to something profoundly enriching.
‘Cause, such places point fingers at our genesis. In real terms. They qualify what we’ve always read… that we’ve evolved from the Neanderthals. It’s something like getting a taste of coffee, after reading chapters about it.
Guess this is what writing does to writers. It takes us places and gets us experiences that are far loftier and fulfilling than what the prosaic metric of so-many-people-having-to-read-what-we-write does. This rather deluding metric could derail the very inherent beauty of writing.
The key lesson I get from this historic moment, therefore, is:
Write not for people to read what you write. Write instead to enrich yourself with what you write… and, the experiences your writing brings along with itself.