When I started blogging there was a lot of talk about plagiarism. I first learnt how to pronounce the word and then spell it and then finally understand what people meant by it.I figured if I wrote what sprang in my mind, about my experiences, about me I couldn’t go wrong.I couldn’t be copying some one else and I wouldn’t be treading on the path of plagiarism.
More I read around, more I realised, there wasn’t a thought process that was novel, not an emotion that wasn’t felt before, not an issue that wasn’t talked about.Originality didn’t exist.What did exist was different versions. Repeated over and over again.
As I have walked the streets of Mumbai, London and now Philadelphia I often wonder what was my version yesterday, a year ago, in the 2000’s, 1900’s, 1800′ and before. Who has walked in my path.Then.
What did she look like.What did she think of.What were her worries.Did she stand up for what she believed.How did she deal with her heart breaks.Did she ever find true love.Did she save lives. Did she fight for freedom.Did she battle disease.Did she make history in her own way.Did she care about what legacy she left behind.
I wonder who was me then.Whose version am I living.Did she have good parents.Did they want to educate her.She she get any education.Did she have a lot of friends.Was she kind, generous.Was she understanding.What became of her.Did she do all the things she wanted to.Was she given the freedom to live her life.She did have choices like I do.
I wonder what she would think of me.The today’s version of her original self.I wonder if I would make her proud. I wonder!