Writing Life / Thoughts/ Art of Living
The Sound The Silence
Winter Clouds, Yet-to-open-Cafe, Catching the Ray
M any has asked me writing is a job of your inner world, how is that connected to your periphery…..what they fail to realise is my inner world draws from my surroundings, shapes and adds to its basic contour to create something of its own.
Imagination doesn’t smile in vacuum.
What I feared has happened.
A change of location or this long recess from writing has robbed me off my visuals, the inner world now vague and misty even as the quiet winter sun smiles from my spec clean window glass.
When I started my journey as a writer the walls whispered to me.
They were walls belonging to some other time, witness to shared moments, the agony, the pain, the letting go.
They were old but not worn, wise not loud.
The new walls are washed, painted, smelly, brand new — and very distant.
Taking its own time to wash over me.
But the mornings here are as serene.
Vedic slokas emanating from the complex, bunch of early risers ready to take on the day, walking brisk in search of life.
Their hurried steps are in harmony with my inside lull, as if they are stepping on my ground to stimulate my sleepy cells.
The Moringa tree has been replaced by a Mango tree. Lush green dense foliage provides much shade ‘n shadow to one part of my piazza, while the other half is lit by the rising sun.
I sit and observe this nature’s creation and see how many peregrines flock to play with her boughs, flying in, jumping, chirp-conversing like birds were having their afternoon parties or may be a Poetry symposium…who knows!
I spotted a squirrel. Wondering if I would name him Bozo too.
What surprises me every time about Nature is its constancy.
Ability to perform in monotone.
Do nature have emotions, mood swings, depression or angst?!
What if they had….we would probably become trees.
One is lucky not to have longing, ambition or even fire, ill-fitted in a tired body.
Thoughts like slowly progressive waves engulf me, entangle me as I dip my grainy brain in the cool, salty water hoping to find my visuals amplified.
All the time I was working on setting up my new home, words visited me.
I had no time to usher them in and give them a seat. The paper and pen lay in my eyes vision but beyond my arms reach. I let them go.
Knowing how difficult it is to retrieve those once gone.
In my writing world, my own city where I grew up and made childhood memories is an alien now, familiar faces are propositions of disturbance.
The extra explanations, longer calls times (for people are new) and just trying to answer questions people stopped asking me long back is tedious.
Starting all over again is filling your lungs with nascent oxygen, pleural cells taking time to be accustomed with its new reliever.Everything changes, even history.
Having a home is bliss. Converting a brick-n-mortar architecture into the same is revetting, but the soul often thrives on expectations, what-ifs, the gaps, the leaps and the unseen. The adventure dwells around the uncertainties, the longing to see what lies at the end of the road, the journey, the never-ending….
Reaching the finishing line is a happy-sad moment. Often more sad than happy.
It’s empty right now, like it happens at the end of a big project, satisfaction taking over enthusiasm.
As writers we all know how un-fulfillment is the best sauce for creation.
But I am happy to be a part of a community of beautiful writers who I know will understand my words now, where everybody wants me to celebrate my project ‘Home’ well done, I was apprehensive always of what I will leave behind….
But life happens and you have to fight your way through it and as writers we often don’t live with people who actually understands what your inner world is composed of, its needs and disappointments however loving ,caring and warm hearts around you are.
Your Gift makes you a loner, sometimes lonely in a crowd.
I don’t know if I can ever write like before or it will spill into a new form, style or structure but I am feeling a sweet air of relief passing through me as I could finally amass some words worthy of publication today.
Let them come, let them sway, let them flow, let them settle and never go —
Till I hear the walls whisper, the leaves laugh, the wind brush
Till I hear the sounds, the silence……
“I will take with me the emptiness of my hands
What you do not have you find everywhere” — W._S._Merwin
Buffering Cafe: I took time and effort to design my study which I will use for some other purposes (of course related to writing) too, and sitting here for the first time has yielded this article :)
This is my first piece for the year 2024 and here’s wishing everyone a very Happy New Year. May all your dreams come true.
