I’ve been this way. My mind feels as if it has been through a roller coaster-ride. I don’t know why, I keep getting all this weird feelings. May be mixed feelings. I feel as if a big tragedy is going to befall me, am going to lose that-very-special-someone. Sometimes, I feel strangely-stupid. Being stupid is okay for a person like me, but this is strange. At times, I get so excited for nothing, other times, I feel very plain, just the usual aiyo-paavam-payan (poorly poor guy looks). sometimes I am very anxious, as anxious as a mother of a young girl who is on her first date.
May be work can do this to people, but why me? It is for people who work hard, I hardly work. For me, even the thought of work or just imagining to be working, tires my soul. And I need countless cups of coffee to get out of this depressing depression. What next? I became fatigue because of my compulsive consumption of coffee. When I’m about to work, I try to warm up to do my best, but in the course, I get heated up and eventually worn out. The very idea of chilling out, freaks me out now.
Am I born with a default disorder which is designed to develop dispersions as I go on?
If at all I manage everything and finally sit to work. I get all innovative ideas on how to evade work. It just then will occur to my mind how I never keep my surrounding clean. When I get to my cleansing work, my mobile dutifully rings, any concerned friend will be available exactly then. I end up talking all the worldly affairs.
I feel all the guiltier after the call. I try to concentrate with all my will power to concentrate on one work. To test me, I often indulge in this very useful exercise. I sit on the floor in an asana position and try to focus my mind on nothing. I intensely command my self not to think about anything, but nothing. I suggest that I should do nothing for the next 30 minutes. I settle myself and spend a minute thinking how I should go about it and suddenly my alarm goes off. Cursing my forgetfulness, I get up to make sure that I shouldn’t be disturbed by anything. I visit every room to check all potential disturbance factors such as Television, radio, mobile, alarm, music system are completely put out. By the time I return, there is a knock at the door. It must be my post-man. I return to my room with the recent issue of The Week. I flip through the pages to read my favorite column. Oh! then I remember my mission. I drop my magazine and resume my asana position. It is already 12.30 PM and I’ve got to meet my dentist at 2Pm. I again do the follow-up procedure and concentrate on nothing. I can hear the sound of the fan in the next room. No let it. Who cares? I should concentrate. I think about calling the clinic to check with them, but why worry, I have an appointment. I make a mental note to brush my teeth before I leave. I think I need to wear my other blue jean and the red tee. Should I take some cash from the ATM? Did I get the card back from mom? I should concentrate now on doing nothing. And the telephone rings. I forgot to completely put out this potential disturbance factor. I get up half-heartedly, thinking how annoying these telephones are.
It was my dad, asking me if I’ve booked my ticket for the next week’s journey. I wonder why he should ask that now. I tell him that I will do that today and let him know. I hung up the phone wondering whether this trait of being futuristic run in our family genes. Anyways I should wash my black jean; it has been nearly two months. I think about doing something and enter the kitchen to have a cup of chai and to go about the day.
Actually this is what happens to people like me, who plan to overwork, but end up doing nothing. My only problem is that I over-plan, take too much in my plate than I can afford to eat. I should rather prioritize my priorities first. But before that, more importantly I should learn to talk less. I know that I talk more, more enough to actually annoy anyone who never gets easily annoyed. Vinu calls me, “a potential threat to anyone who wants to work, even anyone who works in my vicinity will be affected by my strong aura with an unassuming ability to actually annoy people.” Cool. I remember how he was always patient with me till one day- When he literally slapped me just because he couldn’t stand my bugging him the whole day. Poor Vinu! How bad he would have felt! It really hurts me. But honestly I know inside, that it was less for what I did then. Yes I really love to talk more, annoy and bug people. Big Deal? See, I actually don’t know what my problem is- Whether my ability to annoy people, theatrical talent to talk more or multi-tasking (rather multiple planning) and special God-Given-Gift to do nothing and arriving at artistic ways of annoying people. It is not because I’m bored that I talk, annoy or bug, it’s because I love and I love to do these.
Have been this way since I’ve been this way. I know it is quite difficult for people to put up with me. Even I’ve felt that too and tried running away from me. But honestly, I just couldn’t come to think about my self abandonment. I get all this and once in a while I suddenly retreat to silence for the greater good. As how Anu akka calls it, “Hibernation” Scientifically speaking a bear needs around 20,000 calories of energy before it goes to hibernation and she tells me that “I would’ve spent the same amount of calories talking before I proceed to hibernate.”
Whatever it is! It is my problem and it is not my problem, but there is a magic in all this. I connect to people; get to know people when I actually talk with them and more than anything when I listen to people. I learn to listen more. Listening is the high art of loving. And when people get ready to share, it is these three magical words that amplify the power of love: Tell Me More.
And may be I talk more and more because I know that I (We) don’t speak enough.
Sitting by my bedside window, I couldn’t stop wondering where my fate took me. Rather should I say how I took refuge in my fate! I can easily recollect when I wrote last and what I. Seems ages ago to me, but I knew I never bid adieu to my musings. And yet scared inside, what if musings parted me forever. Even then I will be eternally grateful for being with me short while and making my life worthwhile.
I remember or rather strain myself to remember the uncertainty. I went through for the past few months. Life was good in those evenings. Perched in the porches with people in the blissful non-chalant ambience with books aside. The ease with which everything went, switching topics, heated arguments, threatening looks, daring to contradict and the never ending Chronic conversations. The transition therefore to follow was unknown then. Nothing remains the same and not everything changes.
I was away for a while. And today I am back, back to being myself. I could only wonder that it was this rain that rained today made me write. Was it a writer’s block that prevented me from pampering the paper? I remember writing in my mind every time when I talk with me as I walk. May be writing warrants a quiet contemplative pensive mood, rather than a talkative walk? May be I can consider sitting in an asana position with pen and paper aside meditating. Dissolving into the surroundings for better contemplation, so that I can wake up and write. Blessed will be the writers when they perform a ‘Puja’ to get their gift in return or still easier is to get a piece of Creative writing with a flick of wand by a non-verbal spell “Amusingness”.
It is the complete participation in life with a genuine interest and keen observation of things around us that evokes the magic of muse. It is the ability to view the subtle trivial beauties of life with an uncanny yet a healthier wonderment. One can easily find these attributes in R K Narayan’s works, one of the greatest writers ever of times. He had his own share of ups and downs in life and having made out of it helped him to prove his inherent nature/ability of being the best story-teller. Yet sometimes it can be a real threat to one’s ability to write, but the only panacea to it is to keep writing no matter what. Great Writers and famous authors always advise amateurs to keep writing to improve, but they tend to forget that writing continuously or continuous writing can turn life to a disaster. Amateurs, unlike me who take the words of such people, “their gurus” seriously, in the other way round, often fall a victim to continuous writing.
Continuous writing should be to give in enough efforts, try new kinds of writing, to attain perfection and not merely to enter Guinness records. There are times when I took continuous writing seriously and wrote pages and pages to stop suddenly to find my fountain pen running out of ink. I couldn’t continue for a simple yet a genuine reason for I couldn’t find an ink-bottle in vicinity; it must be certainly a good day for the papers, for I did hear mutterings of silent prayers for survival. If my guess is right, they ended their jubilant celebrations with an excellent feast.
There are times when my creativity overflowed, overwhelmed with thoughts for I couldn’t write a single line as I didn’t know what to write first. It was like as if all my thoughts in total threatened to desert me if I don’t give them first priority. Trust me. It was the most difficult moment in my life. I realized what a total dumb-bell I am when it comes to choice. I cried, wailed, howled till midnight like a banshee for an unknown, unreasonable reason. I knew that the moment which I feared the most in my life will come true. ‘The death of my writing’. I sat silently mourning for the rest of the night. As the dawn came, I prepared for the rest. Dressed in black, I got out of my house carrying my note-book like a child’s prized possession. On reaching my garden, I began digging a small grave to bury my ‘dead child’. I stood wistfully for hours together; till I realized that I lost something which I should not have. It was a deep peep into the past, reliving the nostalgia. Now I realize that my Reverence was so true that I could have easily composed the ‘World’s Best Elegy’, if I hadn’t buried my ‘Note-book’.
I sincerely regret.
People, especially great writers like me (if I become one) should understand that there are times in life when one cannot write, in spite of all sincere efforts. They should not feel bad or guilt about it; everything happens for a reason (preferably good if taken in the right sense). It cost me my first elegy (The world’s Best) to learn this lesson. For I’ve also learnt another lesson: “Nothing comes free.”
Great moments often catch us unaware, also great pieces are written unaware.
It was in one such moment, though as usual when all my the thoughts in total threatened to desert me if I don’t take one in particular, I came up with my Masterpiece!
I gave in my best efforts and chose none, for I knew all my thoughts are great and why disgrace one by choosing another. And my masterpiece was ready to be printed in the morning. I sent it to publisher (it’s not difficult to find one these days, for they are greatly listed in Yellow pages, it is as easy as getting a cab) who sent it back to me with an enclosed abusive note for wasting his time.
I felt terribly down. Emerson came to my rescue: “To be great is to be misunderstood”.I took the “Blank Paper’, my masterpiece and kept it safely in my diary. For now I knew the truth that I was born ahead of time and my audience is not yet born. I realized that the publisher’s have no literary knowledge or basic literary sense. Had they known Keats “Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter” no publisher would have dared to let go a masterpiece unpublished. A great shame has befallen the literary world. My life of writing for the past one decade minus eight years has seen such many brutal acts of refusal.
It is Frost who keeps my writerly life alive by his quote “And Miles to go before I sleep”.
I realized that if there can be anything more threatening to a writer than Writer’s block, it is the immense difficult art of naming a piece of writing, for writing can be spontaneous, but naming is instantaneous. And here I confess to my unborn audience that it is the Baptist’s block that scares me more than a Writer’s block
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I remember seeing him, rather his face for the first time in the mess. He looked familiar enough to remind me (rather I wanted him/his face to remind me) of my friend’s brother. From then I keep looking for him in the mess. Sorry I forgot to mention. People usually love to know how one looks. Well ( am not so good in describing people. Anyways.) He exactly looked like my friend’s brother who is working in Microsoft Corporation, United States. And.
One fine afternoon, as usual, I was late to the mess. I prefer to eat at this time, as the crowd will be less. He came and sat opposite to me. I looked at him stupidly and smiled brightly,rather to myself. Unfortunately I had chicken and he, the usual course (sambhar, rasam, porriyal and curd). I felt little embarrassed for no reason. It would be certainly uncomfortable for Vegans to eat among non-vegetarian food lovers. Many times, I prefered veg-food, when dining out with friends to give my vegan-friends company, while I wistfully look at the non-veg dishes on the table. Its quite funny to listen people rambling about their food habits : Vegetarian, non-vegetarian, eggetarian. flexitarian, in-betwe(en)tarian… Why bother as long as anything and everything is edible!
Coming back to our fine afternoon, I often use a kerchief when I eat, to keep tears off my eyes and to wipe my nose. (Untypical Andhra cuisine. Mind It!!! Its MESS food. So No offence meant here.) people here must be lucky for having used to this spiciness. I remember him being thoroughly comfortable in the mini-noon feast. But tell me about this Konghura Chutney. I still haven’t tasted that dish. I think he might be from Telegana or Rayalaseema. He didnt seem knowing enough about this. In our place Chettinad is the most hot n happening spicy cuisine.
I suppose summer has set in, as I feel hot n sultry inside the mess. We just had summer showers in our place. I don’t even remember seeing much rain here in the rainy season. I don’t even know him then. Hmmm. Now I don’t see him often in the mess, also I heard that he, being a final year student was busy with his project. I’m quite free, literally jobless too, but still I don’t find time to eat. Then he being busy, must find it difficult too. One should always eat healthy to think better, but I eat better to think healthily.
Then he got up soon to leave. Am sorry I haven’t yet learnt to eat fast, It has always been difficult for me to eat rather gulp fast. I enjoy every bit and being of the food. I can even leave after sometime for I have nothing important to do. And. Please remember to have your meals regularly.
Thanks for the good time, I rather had a good conversation with me after a long time, for many afternoons I sit alone to enjoy my food.
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