Tag Archives: thought



I’ve driven through the mountains in search of you; I’ve crossed boundaries – on land and sea – in pursuit of you.

I’ve seen what you can do to people – build them into more than humans and then cause them to crumble. You’re as dangerous as fire, a threat graver than death but you’re salvation, a fate better than heaven.

I remember the first and the only time we brushed shoulders – in a crowded train, in my crowded brain, you entered and left a lasting impression. I remember the moment our eyes met and I’d realised how inept I was at hiding my feelings.

That day, that time, that moment, I was no longer safe – from feeling incapable at life, having lived so many years in your absence. At the same time, your sheer presence in my life, in my brain and in my heart – harmonized all my thoughts, my dreams and my future and merged them with yours.

Image source: http://www.terapeak.com/worth/aceo-original-art-card-sunset-abstract-fantasy-mountains-painting-signed/361374000506/


Viral Fever

stressed-man Viral fever

He saw them on their phones: scrolling; typing; listening to songs; feeding imaginary fish.

He had lived the same days as them, yet his experiences had sucked him dry, isolated him. No – he couldn’t pose for selfies, he couldn’t even smile for family photographs. He wouldn’t share his food details on Instagram; he could hardly convince himself to eat.

There was so much hate and anger and sorrow within him that wanted to burst out, but he had no one he could turn to. All he saw were petitions and rants and blogs and vlogs but how were they going to help him? He needed a person to look at him and tell him to continue on his path, even when he found himself in the darkest corners of his mind – scared and helpless – but the concept of eye contact and help had died a few years ago. All he got were thumbs and more thumbs jumping at him, urging him forward – a dozen, a hundred – but as he looked beyond the mountain of these blue thumbs, he saw no one. He was fighting the demons inside him all alone, while his peers were fighting with their gaming clans, saving princesses from fictional trolls.

He took a pen, surprised that he still remembered how to use one. He wrote:

I am not from this earth. I do not understand her. I do not care for her the same way she does not care for me. Her other children seem to perfectly fit their roles while I — struggle. She isn’t the mother I remember; is it that I am her black sheep or am I not a sheep at all?

He continued to write until his fingers started to bleed. He walked and he walked until he reached the bridge and he walked some more, until there was no earth under his feet. A month later, a neighbour discovered his letter and noticed the lack of life around it.

It went viral.

A Writer’s Escape Plan

“When someone else says you’re a writer, that’s when you’re a writer. Not before.”

Wise words, maybe; not accurate, however. You’re a writer when you feel your character(s): their hardships, their love, their defeats, their jubilation. I considered myself a writer the day I wrote an unofficial, congratulatory letter to my fictional, younger sister who had just received the first rank in her examination, from my fictional hostel room, as part of my primary school curriculum. There’s one important thing you must remember, everything you write must be honest and from within – a personal experience – even when it’s fantasy or fiction, and doesn’t remotely resemble anything in your life right now.

As a writer, you can never stop thinking about life and its experiences; never can your thoughts remain in the normal, acceptable spectrum of beliefs, which is why most of these thoughts are crushed before they take shape, in the fear of scaring away or alienating your everyday friends. Those friends you create in your head, your protagonist, the love-interest, the antagonist, these fictional friends never make it out of your daydreams. Daydreaming is essentially what provides you with the ammunition to create a new world that allows your readers escape reality from, but before that, you have to escape and look at reality as an non-participating observer. Whether it’s in a hostel bathroom, surrounded by sounds that are too graphic and full of towels that hang too low, or if it’s a middle of the night nightmare just prior to a big exam, these ill-timed dreams that screw with your mind are responsible for the ideas that give shape to your stories. You can’t successfully shape these ideas into the stories they deserve to be until you take out the preconceived notions and biases you have may have; your characters may be based on your own personality but let them figure out their own reaction to an event, without any judgement and prodding from you. It’s important to remember, as you write, that every character has a life independent from you; even though they’re only alive on paper, let them breathe and live.

NaNoWriMo is an annual event most amateur and semi-professional writers are aware of. Every November, thousands of aspiring writers build, share, write, correct, critique, develop, review their own novel, while helping others along the way, together working towards a goal of 50,000 words each. I came upon this event in December last year, narrowly missing out, but I have it bookmarked ever since. Unfortunately, at the end of November 2015, I will be taking, by far, the most important examination in the life, and will not be contributing/taking part in this edition of NaNoWriMo. After the initial disappointment and anger, I realized I didn’t need any event in any month to give words to my ideas. My thoughts don’t need to see the light of day only in the month of November, nor do they have to be critiqued by strangers online. There’s no problem with that but I have a fair few friends who love to correct my grammar, insult my vocabulary and offer excessive, suffocating amounts of help, without needing any incentive.

So what should I do now? Simple, what every writer should do: write! While most fiction writing tips and help providing websites (I’ve visited about a 100 of them) mention the need to create a backbone before anything else: a series of events in the story jotted down, knowing how the story ends and how many characters-their occupations, mannerisms, vices-are going to be a part of it, before writing the first chapter.

My project, that starts today, involves no planning at all. I don’t know whether I’m writing a fantasy, a thriller, a novella, a flash-fiction, or the biography of a telephone pole. I will simply sit down at my dinner table one hour a day (that one hour that isn’t reserved for my study preparation), scribble down notes as they come to me and type the first chapter without it heading in any direction, much like this piece of writing, which is so disjointed that it could have been posted as several, individual pieces of information. It may very well be that I go nowhere, just running around a tree over and over, without any end in sight, and could end with a ‘Ctrl+A’ followed by ‘Backspace’, or maybe, this creative outlet will produce just enough to keep me motivated. Motivated for what, you ask?

No one, except the one providing unconditional support, in the 22 years of my life, had ever told me, “You should take writing seriously”, and in the past three weeks, I’ve been told those particular words four times, mostly because of my blog post – Three Flat Lines. I still don’t see it as a viable career option; it’s just a hobby that provides an escape for me and, hopefully, for my readers, from this life that is full of responsibilities, deadlines and moving ahead in a straight line (while thousands and thousands of people doing the same, pushing and shoving you along the way). For a brief moment or two, I want my readers to step out of this line and experience a new life. I want at least one person, now or years later, to realise that it’s perfectly alright to take a break from this never-ending line. When that happens, when I have proof that there’s someone out there who took this flight away from reality because of my writing, I will see myself as a writing success.

That’s all, really. You can go back to your busy lives, while I go back to mine. Thank you for visiting this blog of mine, and I hope to see you again. Be sure to like and follow the blog, if you want to keep an eye on my progress. I also must urge you to share my previous blog posts, assuming you liked reading them. It just takes a click and it’ll probably be buried in the dozens of 10 things that prove you are … posts that seem to have filled social media websites recently, but one share provides as much motivation to an amateur writer, like myself, as a pat on the back for a job well done.

TL;DR – I’m going to writing a lot in the near future. Stay tuned.

P.S. – I haven’t proofread any portion of this blog post, so excuse any glaring errors.

Life’s Tasty Lemonade

When life gives you lemons..’ is a phrase I’ve never really gotten behind or believed in. All throughout our existence, from the moment we step in this world, all life does is drain one day after another, relentlessly, without a single holiday or break, until we exhaust our resources and death grabs us.

Early in our being, people say, “You have a long life ahead of you”, without realizing that every day after that, our life only gets shorter. Yoga, positive thinking, feeding the homeless, charities and donations – we all do good, hoping to earn karma points and extend our contract with life, but when has karma promised to give you anything in return? There is no connection between being a good person and living a long life. In fact, some of those who shone the brightest, were the ones that death took away without warning, early, before their calling. It was life that ceased to exist for them; yet somehow, it is death that gets blamed for it.

In essence, what is death but a mere repayment of loan to life? Why do we worry so much about death when it’s only job is to rescue us from the jaws of life? Death is a saviour that stops by just once and frees us of the debts we owe to life.