In my 3 years of ‘playing-it-like-a-blogger’, there have been days when I almost pulled the plug on writing, as if it was an illness I was going about. Not that the words wouldn't come, or it wouldn’t satisfy me, nor had I started scorning it. Writing (poetry) demands isolation. Re-living all the moments that strip the skin off your body, layer by layer, and with depth, amplify your squalls, like it wasn’t the paper the pen was moving on, but the heart.
Writing, to me, was a way to exempt my heart of all the heaviness. It was like painting her over a blank canvas with closed eyes. But after it grew into a passion, I was impelled to dig deeper into my anxieties for every single word of rhymes I penned down. But still I got to conceal my rues, and practice faking in front of a world that doesn’t cares.
Soon, I began looking upon writing as a curse. I thought writing is something that causes misery and it times, destruction. I remember discussing it with Roshan that maybe it’s time for me to bid my final farewell to writing. I know there are about 2 billion songs written over heartbreak, but trust me, there is not a single that can literally help you get over it. I mean, I loved writing, but the aftereffects were miserable. And now, I thought I just wasted all those years doing nothing.
The other day, I met a good friend of mine who has just cleared his Bank PO exam after spending 7 irreversible years of his life studying machines and mechanical technology, with specialization in ‘tool and die’. It was his passion.
“So how’s your writing going on? Just heard that you got a book published.”
“Fine. But writing isn’t something you can rely upon. It can lead astray just any moment.”
“At least you do what you love.” he said in an exanimate voice.
And those words off his mouth kept ringing in my ears long after we went forth. I realized that maybe I was taking matters in earnest. That I ought to relish and be thankful for the marvelous ability I was bestowed upon with. Not everyone gets a chance to do what they really love doing. Something that gives them happiness. Maybe all I needed was just to switch my paradigm and consider those winks as the sweet old memories that will only add up a smile every time I think of them. People come. People leave. Loss is inevitable. But it is up to us how we look at things. Everything that happens is but for a reason, and the reason is ‘refinement of our future’.