Tag Archives: writing

Self-Portrait.

I am reading Indian literature these days and I come upon so many interesting things to read that I am running out of time. I truly am, but come on when am I not running out of time?

So here I am, reading, writing and analysing, or to say trying to analyse the great works of some really great writers, when I fall on yet another piece which I relate to so much, it is like a spitting image, a thought stolen form my mind, and yet I know I am the thief here!

I share here a very, very short poem by A.K.Ramanujan, which played with the strings of my mind today.

Self-Portrait

I resemble everyone
but myself, and sometimes see
in shop-windows
despite the well-knownlaws
of optics,
the portrait of a stranger,
date unknown,
often signed in a corner
by my father.

So yet again the problems of a modern world, problems relating to identity crisis, problems pertaining to knowing yourself, and what not!

Am I the only one, though?

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One Blank Day!

I have been staring at the infinite space since morning today.

I had a paper to turn in.

For which I cancelled my work and all my other plans.

The outcome of freeing my space was, freeing and or emptying of my mind too!

And all I have at the end of day is, one blank page.

Wondering what I did all day?

 

Drank coffee.

Read.

Wondered.

Wandered.

Over-thought.

Read some pages again. (Fiction though.)

Ate junk food.

Wondered and wandered some more.

Wrote a few words, or to say few lines.

Didn’t like it.

Erased it.

Watched TV.

Didn’t like anything.

Watched stand up comedies on the Internet.

Wrote some more, paragraphs and pages this time.

Hated it even more.

Trashed it directly, this time.

 

Drank coffee.

Munched on a bar of chocolate.

Thought and over thought.

Made weird faces.

Clicked pictures in those weird faces.

Thought of writing it all over again.

Wrote- erased- ate- drank (drinks changed since the evening.)

Hated myself and turned off my computer.

Went back to my novel reading in the night.

 

Tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow.

I think it will creep with its own petty pace..

But nothing happens even tomorrow.

I give up finally, and write whatever comes to me, and submit a paper, which I am really unhappy with! So much for trying to become a writer?

Why do You Hide From Me?

I have my own doubts and reluctance when it comes to this poetry, if at all it can be called one. I wrote it almost a year ago, and have never come about to posting it. So now you know how much I was hesitant to share this with anyone. It has taken me a year and another three days to have the courage to share this with you or anyone for that matter.

So now before I change my mind, I am going to hit publish, and let you guys judge me..

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Where are you hiding away from me?

Why, dear love, why do you hide from me?

 

Are you hiding beneath the sky?

The sky that is dark and gloomy

The empty face

That is raining down on me?

 

Are you hiding betwixt the stars?

The stars, magnificent and twinkling

A beautiful constellation

That is shining upon me?

 

Are you hiding behind the full moon?

A moon, calm and comforting

The complete façade

That is spreading its borrowed light on me?

 

Are you hiding among the woods?

The woods and trees that seem all lonely

The empty silence

That is lumbering down on me?

Are you hiding behind the sun?

The sun that is bright and radiant

The blinding fury

That is scorching down on me?

 

Are you hiding behind the mountains?

The mountains that are far and away

The scratchy road

That is soaring upon me?

 

Are you hiding among the seas and oceans?

The oceans that are waving in

The tumultuous uproar

That is really trembling me?

 

Are you hiding among the winds?

The winds, rapid and raw

A soft touch

That is truly whistling down on me?

 

In vain you hide from me

Why, dear love, why do you hide from me?

*

Thank you once again, if you have come this far!! Did not expect you to.

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New Home.

It has been long since I have written anything and I promise to come back with something as soon as I get time from the chores that I really don’t enjoy doing 😉

But this post is to inform all my readers that I am shifting to a new home, a new web address which is- https://aestheticmiradh.com/

I am not much of a web master here, and will really appreciate any kind of help from fellow bloggers. So do let me know if anything is wrong with my website currently.

I will learn things slowly, but I definitely will,  so just be patient readers and fellow bloggers 🙂

Thank you so much for your constant support.

What Do You Do?

What do you do when something occupies too much of your time, too much of the space in your already overthinking mind?

What do you do when things that happen are absolutely out of your control?

What do you do when there are only negative thoughts, and more destructive thoughts making home in your heart and mind?

Needless to say the first suggestion would be to talk things out, to share your woes and doubts with people who care about you.

You pray and hope, and calm your mind but those little evil people are trapped within you.

Then comes the idea of writing your feelings down, word by word. Writers often tend to this technique to cure the ache.

But you see, when desperation kicks in, you go as far as writing your frame of mind and even burning the sheet down to mere ashes; repeatedly!

What do you do when despite all the efforts, those thoughts and feelings stick with you?

What do you do when your thoughts are absolutely out of control? When those thoughts, pains you like a piercing needle, slowly seeping blood out?

What do you do when you can take no more?

What do you do when nothing helps, and even the thoughts (the fact that it is not happening in reality, it is only a thought and a feeling in my head is significant here) shatter you to the core?

What do you when you can’t face the consequences of those thoughts?

 

Inspiration

I only write when inspiration strikes. Fortunately, it strikes at nine o’ clock sharp every morning.

-William Faulkner

Imaginary Concept.

This might make me sound absolutely vulnerable, too emotional and to a certain extent meek and fragile, but I have to get it out, out of my head, out of my system!

So the question is- can an imaginary concept, a tale that has never happened, never going to happen, an incident which is absolutely fictional, and a plot twist which you might not even pen down make you cry? Is it really possible?

Yesterday, in the night when everyone around me was dead to the world, I opened my laptop and was just trying to write something, anything that my mind would be willing to work on. I ditched the laptop soon and adapted the notebook and a pen. I had just started to scribble something, when my mind started racing, the thoughts started flowing. And I lost track, and swam with the thoughts. I had completely stopped writing and was simply thinking about how the plot could go.

I was blind with tears just in a couple of minutes, I was not writing, I was not even taking notes. My own plot; my own construction made me cry!!!!

I remained still for a while; I did not stir but eventually in a mixed emotional state of fury and guilt, rage and helplessness, I erased everything, tore the sheets, and shut the laptop.

I don’t understand what happened. I don’t know how I could cry at own plot, how a fictional story which was not even written down could make me so exposed and defenceless. But it happened and all I felt like doing was to erase that memory from my mind. Simply remove it.

It felt like could I be so cruel? Really, me?

I don’t know what was it that made me cry, the wretched circumstance, or the fact that I imagined myself as the protagonist of the same.