Not even a face in the crowd. Several times I thought about going back to the village. If there is something that we can do there. I have even written a poem that I am looking for myself, in this city. When one grows old, one usually starts talking about good old days. I do not belong to that kind anyway. All things new and young are also acceptable to me. When a famous newspaper group wanted to employ me, there was a comment about me that I am one with involvement in the present time and respect for past. I know that in a given time there is an equal amount of good things just like the bad things. It only depends on where you stand and look at the goings on.

The problem is, you have a lot of ideas. Everyone has ideas. May be, there are some who do not have anything to tell the world. But, I have ideas. When people listen to you and you make a difference in their thought process, you are not exactly a face in the crowd. When you are walking on the road in a place which is not your usual haunt, no on greets you. These days even at home no one greets you. When they do it is so mechanical that you ignore it. Then you are a face in the crowd even in your own place. In such a situation where is the question of complaining about being a nobody in the world. When a cricketer does something unusual they print in the first page of the news paper. When an intellectual tells something that could change the direction of the world, only the miniscule group of intellectuals listens to him. Many of them discard the theory because they did not understand it properly. Many intellectuals do not know how to tell their story. If they know they cease to be intellectuals.

It is easy to live as a face in the crowd. No expectations from the world in your face. Once you get noticed by people, you become a butt of criticism. One among the lot also does not agree that he or she is common. Who is a common man or woman in this world? It is the collectiveness of more than one person that deserves this word. In that case there is no person who can exactly be called face in the crowd. I even remember the beggars I have seen in my childhood. The lame Lambada, the man with a very high voice, Ghanta Fakir etc. etc are all there in the top layer of my mind as if I have seen them only yesterday. I can write about them at length and will sure do it sometime.

Every human being has a story to tell. The story is not of anybody else but his own. If only we have the patience and the person the felicity to narrate, the story will emerge, worth making a film. Not many people try to remember what happened to their life as they live it. The few people who keep at least a mental note become writers, speakers of excellence. Not that the others do not have anything to tell. They only do not know how to do it. You speak and you are special.

My father was an interesting man. He had certain very interesting experiences to tell. He used to tell them when we were young. Later perhaps, he was annoyed with the too very strong personalities, and stopped talking about his past. I even requested him to write something like memoirs. He accepted. Never did it happen that he even spoke about them. He passed away without a record of his travels and travails. Was he a face in the crowd? Definitely not! Only pity is the world does not know him, even as much as it knows me!

The secret is, it is not enough to be great, you should be known as doing great things, and perhaps you should also be seen as doing great things. Otherwise who cares about who is who? In this dog eats dog world, personal excellence has ceased to be of any importance.