A Statement of Style

Dear R,

When last H wrote to all of you, the two of us (that is to say, H and I) were competing to reach old Mumbai, I was a flight up in the air, while H had touched ground, back in Bangalore instead of our prior destination. The long and short of it is that H finally went to Chennai; I, on the other hand, went to Ahmedabad, stayed on the plane for a full four hours (and I won’t even comment on the smell coming from a few seats behind me owing to someone’s stomach regurgitating all the food he/she gobbled on the flight) and then, after taking off for Mumbai again, reached at 6 pm. That, on a flight that was supposed to take off at 9 am and reach Mumbai at 1030 am. It would appear that the rain gods were bent on testing my patience. In any case, I win. So there.

I was wondering over the last few days of the effect that style, or is it Style, has on our everyday lives. Some call it individualism, character and a number of other nyms, but what is this enigmatic abstraction? What, in essence, determines the outer facing nature of a person or object, the way it interacts with the world and, truly speaking, are we that different from each other?

Let me give you a “for example”. For example, a couple of years ago, I was chatting with a friend of mine, B, who, at that time, was running the college magazine. Like two experienced dabblers in the fine art of writing, we began to debate the latest article that he had inserted in the afore mentioned article. I happened to remark that I liked his style as compared to on of the other editors (or was it the other way around?). He asked me what I meant to which I explained that I liked the way he waxed eloquent at times, the way he wander off the main trail and explain bits of trivia to the weary traveler, rest awhile under the eaves of a Bodhi tree and talk of the uncertainties of life before he plodded once more towards the conclusion of the essay. Hearing this, he asked me to point out those parts of the editorial that he had written and the parts that I thought were penned by his co-editors. To my utmost shame, (after my long and winding speech), I couldn’t. It would appear that all three of them had a habit of strolling down the banks of the river to pick the daffodils. (I wandered lonely as a cloud…) Did all of them have the same style, I then asked, or is that just the way people write? But surely, there are different styles of writing, you must be shouting. Perhaps, if you are wiser, you aren’t. There are, of course, different ways that an author may pen her thoughts. She may write in the first or third person, may write fantasy or on absurdism and all that jazz. But if two proficient authors were to sit next to each other and write on the same topic, would you be able to distinguish the style? Perhaps. There is a difference between too flowery a writing, perhaps, and the minimalism many others opt for. What about an excessive use of commas? I don’t know. Mayhap, you do.

To point to another, more recent case, let us examine the difference between H’s and my writing? Would you, gentle reader, be able to differentiate between the two if we switched names the next time we wrote? Are you sure that we haven’t been doing so the last couple of times? What if told you that we have? Have you noticed that H has been quoting rather excessively the last few times? Hmmm. (He’s also stolen a quote from me. How dare he?)

Finally, I had bordered on writing a rather maudlin and mawkish article on women. Thought better of it finally. Would have dragged in too many memories, I suppose. Too much projection isn’t good for health. However, I throw to the audience the thought of the effect of style on the ability to woo women. This, atleast, is an area where I would admit there is a huge variation on output, as it were, with the individual styles of the various performing artists. (I would also offer salutations at this point to one Style, an author of a book – may he live in peace).

Isn’t style, it would be better to call it personality at this point, such a huge factor while choosing your woman? (Forgive the crassness). Isn’t it an obvious hurdle in getting her to like you? (I admit that my style seems to hamper me rather than the cliché – hampering my style). It’s a sad tale isn’t it, dear Reader? If it is, weep, else, laugh your way to bed. Good night, I entreat you to dream on this, perhaps it will open ways for all of us. Now sleep, sleep well and wake.

H, that is why I’m s_____.

And that is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
-La Belle Dame sans Merci, Elliot?

Pip pip,
T