I never really thought I had the ability to articulate my emotions, my vision, my dreams, my aspirations and. most importantly the turmoil within me into words which could get converted into poems articles and stories. It's not that I couldn't do this earlier, it's just that I didn't explore this side of ME.
I thought writing was for my notebooks and examination answer sheets on which I would be judged and marked upon. I'd buy the most expensive pen in the shop just to convince myself to write. I like, my fellow human beings didn't like to be judged. I wanted to learn and become knowledgeable without looking at those books. I didn't like books and I still hate them with all my heart.
I thought writing was for my notebooks and examination answer sheets on which I would be judged and marked upon. I'd buy the most expensive pen in the shop just to convince myself to write. I like, my fellow human beings didn't like to be judged. I wanted to learn and become knowledgeable without looking at those books. I didn't like books and I still hate them with all my heart.
About 10-11 months back I was just sitting and willing away time with few acquaintances until a crisis arose. The crisis was to stop a friend from a nervous break down. Nobody was forced to help, yet everybody tried their best to help.
I think at times we feel nervous simply because we don't know our abilities and haven't explored every bit of US. And I think something simliar had happened that day.
She was a poet and was told to write a poem. Yet she couldn't write one, she said her hands were shivering and her mind was trembling. I couldn't understand what she meant by that, all I could interpret from her statement was that she was nervous. She was nervous because she was to be judged on that poem, she was shivering because someone would analyse and give her marks on something which came from her soul and she obviously couldn't control her soul's call. Nonetheless, I tried to calm her down and told her to write anyway. On that statement of mine she said I'll lift my pen if you promise to give me company. I said ya sure I'll sit with you till the time to you write. She said NO, not that way. Give me company by doing the same thing that I'm doing. I said I don't write. She said there is always a first time. There was a very weird silence for 40 seconds. But after that I nodded my head in agreement.
She gave me a notepad and a green pen. For about 10 mins I was just staring the blank sheet without any thought in my head. After being blank for about 10 mins I lifted the pen and the first word that my hand wrote was LIFE. I didn't know why I wrote this word, I didn't even know the meaning of this word in it's true sense.
I then started thinking about life. what is life? why is life important? and gazillion similar questions came in my head without any answers. All I had was trucks and aeroplanes full of questions. I just jotted down those questions exactly the way they crossed my head. In the weirdest language, without even caring about the grammatical errors.
And as luck would have it one of the professor's landed in the room. This professor took my sheet and read what I had doodled. All she said was "You are blessed with a soul which still has the ability to over rule your mind. Take good care of it." And I swear I didn't understand what she meant. She told me to submit what I had written. I was already in such a weird state of shock that I did what she told me to do without any ifs and buts. Yes! I had submitted that crazy doodling that I had done.
I somehow felt calm after writing what I wrote. I could feel that the wicked turmoil like thing in me had subsided. I was feeling calm and peaceful. A drop of tear trinkled down my eye via my cheek it reached the area below my chin and I like an idiot didn't wipe it off. I just wanted things to flow at that time. Flow the way they were. It was after few days of deep interrogation and introspection that I had done within myself, that I realised that I had not written something that day. I had just said HELLO to the real me. This real me was amazing it wasn't affected by materialistic forms of appreciation and criticism. It didn't care about marks and results. All it was concerned about was love, life and art. It was then that I finally realised that articulating things in my head helped my head and soul to stay calm and composed.
Thus began my journey of writing. A journey who's destination is the never ending journey itself.
I think at times we feel nervous simply because we don't know our abilities and haven't explored every bit of US. And I think something simliar had happened that day.
She was a poet and was told to write a poem. Yet she couldn't write one, she said her hands were shivering and her mind was trembling. I couldn't understand what she meant by that, all I could interpret from her statement was that she was nervous. She was nervous because she was to be judged on that poem, she was shivering because someone would analyse and give her marks on something which came from her soul and she obviously couldn't control her soul's call. Nonetheless, I tried to calm her down and told her to write anyway. On that statement of mine she said I'll lift my pen if you promise to give me company. I said ya sure I'll sit with you till the time to you write. She said NO, not that way. Give me company by doing the same thing that I'm doing. I said I don't write. She said there is always a first time. There was a very weird silence for 40 seconds. But after that I nodded my head in agreement.
She gave me a notepad and a green pen. For about 10 mins I was just staring the blank sheet without any thought in my head. After being blank for about 10 mins I lifted the pen and the first word that my hand wrote was LIFE. I didn't know why I wrote this word, I didn't even know the meaning of this word in it's true sense.
I then started thinking about life. what is life? why is life important? and gazillion similar questions came in my head without any answers. All I had was trucks and aeroplanes full of questions. I just jotted down those questions exactly the way they crossed my head. In the weirdest language, without even caring about the grammatical errors.
And as luck would have it one of the professor's landed in the room. This professor took my sheet and read what I had doodled. All she said was "You are blessed with a soul which still has the ability to over rule your mind. Take good care of it." And I swear I didn't understand what she meant. She told me to submit what I had written. I was already in such a weird state of shock that I did what she told me to do without any ifs and buts. Yes! I had submitted that crazy doodling that I had done.
I somehow felt calm after writing what I wrote. I could feel that the wicked turmoil like thing in me had subsided. I was feeling calm and peaceful. A drop of tear trinkled down my eye via my cheek it reached the area below my chin and I like an idiot didn't wipe it off. I just wanted things to flow at that time. Flow the way they were. It was after few days of deep interrogation and introspection that I had done within myself, that I realised that I had not written something that day. I had just said HELLO to the real me. This real me was amazing it wasn't affected by materialistic forms of appreciation and criticism. It didn't care about marks and results. All it was concerned about was love, life and art. It was then that I finally realised that articulating things in my head helped my head and soul to stay calm and composed.
Thus began my journey of writing. A journey who's destination is the never ending journey itself.
I'm glad you remember the first time you wrote because that time was responsible for bringing our the creator in you. You will create lots of beauties and majesties in your life because you're capable of that.
ReplyDeleteKeep writing and exploring yourself. I'm proud of you. Keep shining! Love Papa
Papa! :)
DeleteThank you so much for having faith in me and for being there with me selflessly.
I love you too papa and i am blessed to have papa like you!
thank you :)