WHY I WRITE

Every week, a blank page waits for me
Silent, patient and expectant,
It does not ask for perfection,
Only Honesty.

People often wonder
Why a columnist writes again and again,
When the world seems too busy to read
And too noisy to listen.

I write because words are the footsteps of thought
If we do not leave them behind,
Our concerns vanish like mist at dawn.

I write to raise a voice
Not loud with anger,
But steady with concern,
For the things that quietly matter.

I write about illegal projects
That grow where they should not,
About the fading civic sense
That once guided our streets.

I write about traditions and customs,
About the values we inherited,
And the culture threads that bind a community together.

I write not for glory,
Not to be known,
But to find the echo
That feels like my own

Sometimes my words question,
Sometimes they protest,
Sometimes they simply remember
What the world is slowly forgetting.

A columnist does not hold power
Nor carry authority,
Only a small lamp of observation
Lit by everyday life.

I write not because I know all answers,
But because silence
Would mean accepting
Everyday as it is.

For writing is not merely expression
It is responsibility
It is memory
And above all it is hope.

Each line is a promise,
Each line is a flame,
To honour my homeland
To carry its name.

With pen as my weapon,
With truth as my right,
I stand for Kodagu
It’s people it’s fight.

So I write
To raise a voice
To stir a thought
To awaken a conscience.