I wrote whatever I felt this moment. You may wonder why I am rambling. Even am wondering the same. Bear with me buddies! If you like musings, go ahead, if not, wait will next post!
The faded white sheet stared back at me. It was one of those embellished letter-pads, with little smiley's on it. Some anecdotes at one end. It looked cute. But the major portion of the sheet facing me was white, faded in ages though. White, the color that symbolizes purity, innocence. But faded white? I let out a small smile at my wavering thoughts.
The pen I held in my hand, well I was not exactly holding the pen, I was twirling it, was throwing it in the air and catching it with my single hand. Well, the pen was a cheap one. It wrote in a grayish black color. I scribbled my name in a small piece of paper that lay on one side, to check whether the pen worked. I always liked writing my name, or should I say, scribbling?
I was all set now. The paper, the pen. But.. I did not know what to write. All I knew was that I had to write something for my blog. I must write something new, something interesting, something thoughtful, some stories may be.. But no, philosophy sounded good. But I write too many stuffs these days. So I should write something you all will love, something simple and sweet. Or maybe it should be complicated, sprinkled with words that would need a dictionary to understand. Maybe. But more than everything I wanted to write for myself. Writing became my passion, my love or I can tell, its the killer. Wondering? Writing kills my loneliness, my wavering mind and the most important-it prevents me from thinking about my past. It is making me to explore, think and write things which I have never-ever dreamt in my life.
It was nice. The feeling I had experienced, the warmth that spread inside me when I read something I wrote. I am missing them a lot these days. I write things, but only some satisfies my expectation. Reason? I don't know! Sometimes am lost for words, sometimes lost for ideas, sometimes it is with right expressions, sometimes perfect plots, sometimes everything altogether and this is one such occasion. I want those soul-embracing, warm-filling writings from me. I am missing that-Ideas and words.
The pen continued to twirl in my hand. The faded paper looked at me longingly. It felt as if, it is approaching me to write something on them. AM THINKING WEIRDLY! The sun was high today, The fan was creaking by letting out warm air, Kadri Gopalnath's Saxophone playing mildly in the background, The horns from those heavy vehicles sighing continuously and me-sitting in a corner of the room, thinking about something. Is this a writers block? No, it is not. I thought about something to jot down. But when I took the pen, I was lost- for proper phrases, words, not ideas though. My mobile blared shattering the stillness inside me. Someone called me at this time. I kept the pen down, got up, took my phone, went to balcony. When I came back, the pen was lying there, on the notepad. The music continued but the track was changed, The Fan has been switched off. I found myself lost again as I did not have words to write on that sheet. The words, ideas/thoughts/story that framed inside me are somewhere else right now. SOMEWHERE - out of my thoughts, out of my reach....
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