Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Writing: 1

I thought that writing was a one-time activity.  You take your pen and scribble those words on paper or type them into your laptop. Looks very natural process. But my PhD writing experience dismantled that feeling.

Writing is not a natural process when you do it for a purpose: You need to master the time and space of your writing sense. It requires you to discipline your old habits of procastination, and keep deadlines in mind. YOU JUST CANNOT WAIT FOR THE RIGHT MOMENT TO START WRITING LIKE YOU WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE (only in some cases). One of my professors told me 'You write write write.....write.....that's how you learn how to write.'

How did I write in the earlier phases of my academic life?

I thought I am a natural writer, and kept on writing many poems and stories. It was when I was a child. Things did not change when I grew older. Sometime, I got inspired by some movies where the protaginist gets struck by love and write a poem that define the movie itself. I used to re-enact the role of the protagonist in the belief that I would satisfy someone's imagination and I would be writer someday. The aim was to get 'recognised'. However, it was not the best thing to do although I got some initial success. I irritated one of my professors with my silly writings and poems. Finally, he said one thing aloud: 'Every writer has hisown voice. You should find yours'.

It was a big blow to me and I stopped writing for a long time. 

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Sing along

Don't they remind you of your love?
Don't they lead you to nostalgia?
Don't they make you reflect on your qualitites?
Don't they calm your nerves to work or walk?
Don't they make you miss your mom?
Don't they bring back the taste of your town?
Don't they gauge your sensitivity?
Don't they help you smell the context of your past favourite moments?
Don't they guide you through difficult times?
Dont't they let you to party?
Don't they make you forget the deep wounds?
Don't they let you think and write?
Don't they share your attributes?
Don't they tempt your feelings?
Don't they inspire your becoming?
Don't they make you hopeful?

And

Don't they make you superhuman?
Don't they change you?

Songs have that cpacity to take you to far and wide, and
To go beyond borders and checkpoints without any permission.
They are what you are and the best comfort you have.

Monday, April 4, 2016

Writing !!!!!!

Ultimately, what does it do?
Should I go back to wilderness
And search for my lost touch?
Or, is it the premature decision that landed me in trouble?

Wait.

I don't know it yet.

I must see whether I can finish this thing off first.
I need to prove me wrong, by being myown foe.

How do I fall in love again?
With words?
With reading?
and above all with myself?

Keep writing....

Someone said: 'you keep doing it to find out the happiness of writing'

Yes! Let me see what and how I can write something that make sense at least to myself.


Monday, October 15, 2012

Recognition

S/he broods on things for a short while, as s/he cannot refuse to.
Bridling will not be enough to get away with his possession of things.
Blinding the sight will keep us away from them, but not them from.
Undaunted s/he continues like a possessed being of surety. 
Those things are thoughts of possession, recognition and being's disposition.
Abrupt and abysmal this may sound. 
But, nobody is sound enough to go unnoticed, and
There is no solution as we are part of things.
That is our predicament.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Why does somebody strive for greatness?
Can it be with intrepidness in the face of adversity?
Or the fortune that gets bestowed from the mystery of chance?
How does it matter any more,
To be or not to be,
As I go back to uncivilised world.
What good can I aspire to reach?
and
Why should somebody aspire to be recognised?
To be human means nothing but void on the face of all creation, and
Even my own creation.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Love

I can't be me anymore,
Neither do I persist nor pretend to be.
It is the time when you hit my plane,
Like the small bird that stop me flying.
Wherever I go, your madness follow me;
Whenever I cry, your eyelashes can't be seen in the rain following.
However it is, I just know that,
I can't be me anymore.
Don't let this go with me,
Do let it have my heart,
Donning the cap of hope, I behold your each step,
At the arrival  of our new found love.

Thursday, June 28, 2012

Tortoise not any more

Here, I go to live,
After the rain-drenched minds,  that
Stopped me with the story of 'the tortoise'.
They said: 'I am no more a tortoise'.
My blood was thick and cold,
After being booked for 'the break from the past story'.
A rabbit I am, innately,
Who was stupid and complacent.

Clamors made me deaf, while I warmed up;
Cheers pumped the adrenaline, to destroy the old-me;
Crackers showed the prologue of my story;
Unsettled me is about to amend.
Here, I go to live and let live.