Tag Archives: writers life

The Wait For Spring.

Warning: This is going to be pretty long. Proceed and get bored at your own risk!

 

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I should probably start with wishing new years to all of you, but I am sure that I am very late for that, very very late. So, shall I just go ahead and ask you if you have reached that point of the year, when you have started feeling that you are probably wasting this year too, and that even this year your resolutions are going to go down the drain, or better still, all the optimisms and the thought that this is going to be your year has slowly been washing out of your system? I am certain, that I am probably late for even that question!

 

Yes, I am extremely late for almost everything now, may be even writing a blog post too. For all I know, everyone whom I knew has already gone away and I might not even hear from you guys anymore. Agreed! I have been away, for far too long. And perhaps this is the most that I have been away from my blog, and stopped writing since I have started writing here, since the time Aesthetic Miradh exists. But I just didn’t have the energy, the courage, or the will to write anything. I just didn’t. It couldn’t have been a writers’ block, I am sure of that, it was something more than that! Words didn’t leave me, I still had those conversations with myself, those dull drab uninteresting posts were there, but those were only in my head. I lacked something, or may be I was just being lazy!

 

I have been staring at my computer screen for quite long now, and it has taken more than I can tell to even write these useless words so far. I have been booting my computer for the past few days, staring at the blank screen for a while, drinking cups of tea/coffee/hot chocolate one after the other, (not necessarily all in the same day) and yet I wrote nothing. Daily, I switched on the computer, and after a while, switched it off. It went on for a few days but today, I am finally writing here (hopefully posting too), but what am I exactly writing, I am unsure of. What I am sure of is, I am cent percent going to bore you by the end, and you might not even know why I wrote this, or in all probability why did you even read this?

 

So, what have I been up to? (Yeah, Moushmi, now is this becoming your daily journal? No one is interested in knowing what you have been up to!) Unlike my writing life, everything else hasn’t been stagnant. Well, life kept moving on, but I don’t know if have matched pace with it. Things have been happening. Work has been piling. To- read books have been stacking, so basically everything has been hoarded so far, so much so that I can’t see beyond it.

 

There was one respite though, the only thing that I kept looking up to everyday. 2019 was the year when I planned on writing a poem a day. Now, that sounded interesting and so fulfilling to me initially too, and I waited expectantly to write poems everyday, one after the other. It wasn’t easy, of course. And I sometimes pulled at my own head as to find any new ideas. Not that my ever-cribbing and tame-less hair had any ideas in store, but I tried it all the same. I can definitely not boast of these poems now, not when I know that not all of them are unique and certainly do not stand out. But what exactly is unique. Even the sentence that I just wrote, “But what exactly is unique.” Must have been repeated millions of time through millions of seconds. But I am still not going to boast about them, because I know, while the quantity of the poems is overwhelming, the quality is definitely not!

 

When I started writing these poems, I had in mind of being a published poet, if not a writer soon. But now that I have them, I am just being and doing what I always do. Being a certified lazy coward. I have a set of poems drawn out of the herd, and I did start editing them and I did look into the matter of publishing, but it all became too overwhelming, and I chickened out. But I haven’t exactly dropped out the idea; I am still looking into the matter only I don’t know what and how to do. People have given me suggestions. Some motivated me, some not so much. But I am still nowhere. Believe me, I have read about it, researched it, so much so that now it feels I should just go ahead and publish it already. I have come across so many new published writers, some have been of help, while some just competitive. I was initially surprised at how much our times have to offer, in terms of publication too. I mean yes, there is the traditional method of publishing, but there are so many other options too. And so- so many new, encouraging and even emerging publishers for new writers. But that is where it became too overwhelming and for once I thought, what the hell, I will just go and self publish it myself. It is not like it’s a great book or something. They are just poems, it is a small dream. May be I will make mistakes with my first book; I am bound to. But I have made mistakes in the past, and I am sure I will make them in the future too; only I hope I will not repeat them. We will see how that turns out. No saint, I am!

 

I do not have any resolutions for 2020 yet, and seeing that we are already down almost two months of the year, I might give up on it altogether. But I do have a certain idea. Wow, I am not even sure if it is an idea at all. It could turn into a series of short stories, or it could be a short novella, but then again, I keep wondering if I have that kind of discipline in me to start writing, and even if I do write, what is to happen of those boring sheets? Stay useless, may be?

 

Writing happens or not, I am sure I will be reading a lot this year. I am sure of that. I took up the goodreads challenge and all, of finishing up hundred books a year. I didn’t plan on it last year, but I still managed 79 books in 2019, and I would have completed a hundred too, had I not stopped reading altogether in the last few months of the year. This year, I plan on reading more. Not only quantity, but I mean to look into quality too, leaving behind all those books that don’t add up to anything. We’ll see how that goes too! Who knows, I end up only talking!

 

My friend Mr. Coffee Hater comes often and we have our usual nonsensical banter always, but that’s a ramble for later. So that is that! I think I should stop talking, if at all someone is listening. And if you are, I want to know what you have been up to? I am sure I have been missing out on a lot of things. Tell me what you are reading? 😉 Okay, tell me what have you been doing? As for me, I think I have I have been sipping iced coffee in winters, and reading Rumi. (Look at that me reading Rumi!) And it is still winters here, chilly, freezing winters. All I am doing is waiting for spring! I think I am just waiting for spring!!

 

 

The Thing About Boys & Men.

I am bored. I mean not that I don’t have anything to do, but I am just bored. Bored with stressful working, with useless studying, with meeting deadlines, with assignments, with reading, with writing, practically everything. So I keep finding new things to do. Now, I haven’t been very successful with it, but I think I am obligingly eating people’s head with my tantrums. But I guess I am so bored that I get bored with that too. And hence, I keep finding things like reading short biographies of inspiring authors, what they have done, listening to music I have never heard before or going out to new places. Now, that last thing that I said is more useless than the word ‘useless’ can signify. Living in such a small city comes with its dirth of new and exciting places to go to. So, I am left to be doing only two things, reading and ranting. I could say I am just writing but I know my writing is not writing, it’s only a rant, a cribbing rant with no solutions which a set of very few loyal friends will read and tell me that it is not a rant and they liked it, but I know better than their kindness.

Just one such rant, actually, a very furious rant with a failed attempt of humor was written after an impulsive decision and was mailed without any eidting. I regretted it the minute I sent it. Honestly, I did. But very surprisingly, the local supplement of Times of India weren’t offended by my rant and they published the column all the same.

I am happy.

Today, I am not bored.

I am sharing the picture below.

Because today I am not bored.

I will rant and keep you bored.

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A Thousand Splendid Suns.

A Thousand Splendid Suns by khaled Hosseini is about a 15 year old Miriam, married and sent to Kabul without her will. Her entire life is a struggle against patriarchy, starvation, violence and brutality and a fear that lurks constantly over her.

 

While the plot sounds truly traumatic the heroism that is portrayed despite the hindrances is startling. In spite of being subjected to so much torture and hopelessness, Mariam is defiant and doesn’t give up till the end.

 

The first time I read this, I cried the entire night. The book had just come out and I was only a part time reader, the one who picks up a book when someone would recommend me, or when I’d really be bored, or when I’d come across a book and I’d really be interested in the plot. My teacher recommended me this. She had seen me reading now and again, trying to divert myself from every other stuff going on in my life. She saw me reading and she gave me this and one other collection of short stories.

 

I came home, as lost as always and dove right in. I didn’t get up even for dinner. I didn’t care for dinner when a little girl almost as young as me was being beaten, who shed blood like water form her body, who had no hope left in her life, no love; no one. Isolation was her only friend.

 

This was fiction. Why was I crying? I think I was moved beyond repair.

 

Since then I have read this book time and again. Every time I devour the pages of this book, I cry just the same. I don’t know about others, but this book does something different to me. You might not find this to be so poignant but I did then, and I do still.

 

Then, why do I keep picking this up, again and again?

 

This book taught me that fiction could do things to you, sometimes more than reality. This book taught me that somewhere between the pages I could lose myself. This book taught me that words are powerful. This book taught me so much more and it was with this book that I fell in love with reading and eventually writing.

 

Then, why am I doing this review now? Because I read Sea Prayer! by the same author a few days back and it ignited all those long lost memories of the book. I didn’t know even tears bring nostalgia. And because I read a sea prayer I was drawn to this book too, again. It took all my might to stay away from this one, only because I have been reading four books simultaneously and all cry for my attention. And among all those I really shouldn’t have started this one. Start, I did!

 

And I forgot the rest for a while. I don’t know how my self-control has gotten so weak but it has and honestly, I don’t regret it.

 

A Thousand Splendid Suns is dear to me, despite all its hardships and tears that the protagonist and I go through side by side. And I love the book. I love The Sea Prayer, The Kite Runner, and I liked And the Mountains Echoed too, but this is exceptional. It holds a different place. I am not saying this is my ‘favorite’ book, you must know me better than this, that I truly cannot pick one favorite book from so many. I can only say it is dear to me.

 

This being posted on the National Book Lovers Day is just another cherry for me. But then again what is this kind of celebration to someone who reads and reads only to be alive?

Writing Dilemma #2

One dilemma ends and another dawns.

 

I don’t mind typing, considering that it does get easier and speedier, and also, sometimes it is way better for your lazy ass for its sole purpose of auto-correct. So, as soon as I had my laptop, I have been fluent with computers and typing. And I truly don’t mind adapting to this, as I have a problem between the kindle and the paperbacks. But honestly, there are times when I don’t have my laptop with myself, or I am just lazy enough to open it and do the necessary, or better still, I am nuzzled up under the sheets in the middle of the night and I want to write. At times like these, I love; I repeat I love my journal. I just happen to open it and scribble whatever, useless but considered by me, a piece of art that came to my mind. And this has been good, so far. But now after months of doing this (as I am determined to writing something at least everyday, presumably a poem) I have filled up more journals than e-files.

 

Now, it is easier, without the temptation of Google help, translations and a thesaurus, the art that I consider it to be, is purely original. However, the problem with this is, if at all I have any hope of publishing it, I have to have them as a soft copy. So, then comes the arduous task of typing it all over again. And f I have to do so this in the end, then why not do it in the first place itself, and I will be technically not wasting paper, pens and will be saving a lot of time instead.

 

Some might give me the solution of writing it in my phone at the times when I can’t really go to my laptop and then sync it with my laptop and then the next time I open it, I can save the file…. But you forget the aforementioned fact about me being a “lazy-ass”. This is just too much work for me. And if I keep doing what I am doing I might end with more notebooks by the end of the year, than I might have ever filled. Or there is another scenario, where I could simply write a small note and then open the laptop some other time and write my poetry then. But I am a 100% sure that by then I will have forgotten my very own thought.

 

Wow! Even with writing I am powerful enough to find dilemmas, or do the find me wherever I go? Who could tell? I am sure these ‘problems’ are secretively in love with me!! Do tell me if they let you know about their crush on me.

 

Also, share your thoughts on this writing-typing dilemma, if at all you face them. Or, is it just me who is old fashioned enough in even keeping a journal?

Writing dilemma!

When you are both a reader and a writer, how do you deal with it? I mean to say, that both requires equal attention, peace and time and for me both mingles with each other. While I am reading, sometimes I get ideas of what I can write, but then as a writer, I think that somehow if I write about that particular thought, it would be duplicitous. It will be a by-product of someone else’s work and then I will be ‘not original’. But then when I do write it down, I do feel that what I was reading was just a way of an inspiration for me to create something else. Now, when I put it that way, I don’t sound like a cheater, but deep down I still wonder if it is original or am I just plagiarizing. Now, if the later is the situation, then I should stop writing with immediate effect. I have no notions of copying work.

 

In various fields of art, it has been repeatedly said, you look for inspirations; sometimes inspiration doesn’t come to you. And if we are looking for it, chances are we look for it in similar fields and even if the filed is different, it is we who are looking for the so-called inspiration, and so our options are limited. Don’t get me wrong; I am not justifying myself in any way. I have no intentions of doing so, what so ever. What I am trying to decipher is what if some of my writings are a product of something that I read? Now, if it was re-telling I would simply declare that it is a re-telling, but what if some specific idea, image, or even a line sticks with me and brings out an entire different picture?

 

I don’t know if you guys go through this, but as a reader I do face this occasionally which makes me trash some of the things I wrote, and if not trash, they remain unpublished, hidden on my hibernating folders and journals!

 

Do share your thoughts on this one. What do you think about it? Does this happen with you?

Book Nerds Will Relate #4

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Now, this kind of a baby, I can think about 😀

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Just as your stupid phone seems to be saying the same.

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EEEGGGGJJJAAAACCCCTTTTTLLLYYYY.

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Oh, this happens everyday.

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Oh, never have I known that feeling of sleeping alone 😉

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Nope, not needed!

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Didn’t I just say, I don’t need that kind of negativity!!

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The first thing I’ll find, probably in every new place!

 

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Yep!!!

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Hahaha, this one got me!

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And this is just sooo cute! I wish I’d have done this!!

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A 100%

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Oh, every time!!

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Oh, believe me this is all I do!

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Oh, I do wonder this time and again!

More nerdy stuff here:

Book Nerds Will relate!

Book Nerds Will Relate #2

Book Nerds Will Relate #3

Reverie.

In living an existence of insanity

A being of absolutely solidarity,

She found solace among inanimate objects

Amidst her life which was completely wrecked.

 

She fell in love with words.

When everyone thought her to be absurd,

She made books her escape mechanism

While her heart screamed abstract expressionism.

 

She fell in love with fantasy

Loathing her reality,

Making her miseries unconscious

She made books her life’s colossus.