Memories most recent seem to make no sense. While those from the past- is
wrapped up in a mature analysis of a wrapper and remains behind. Those that
have stayed behind, don't seem to be much fun either.
I think I've lost the pen. The impulse to write- seems to have gone down.
Rather- there's nothing much to write about. A family holiday to Gujrat or my
experiments with drawing a rangoli for the first time- seem uninteresting and
not worth wasting my words upon. What's this phase in life called? I am mostly
up-beat about being shut in my room with my books or music or laptop. May be
it's the grill on the balcony. That's what is causing the block. If only I
could remove the grill, may be I could write again!
There is a vaccum in life for my cat ran off a few months ago. It's tough-
going back in life. May be that's the reason for this break from writing. Or
just the fact that there are just too many books around. Cleaning my house-
pardon me- watching my house getting re-organised and seeing the sheer number
of books in my house, makes me guilty. I've read just a few of them. I've
bought so many of those books with the intention of reading them- but never
did! Then there are my father's books. I remember writing down a list a few
years back. A bucket-list! I wrote in it- "I wish to read all the books
that my father had read in his life so far and more...". Childish boasts
of a wannabe adult!
I found out a bag with an old sewing kit. Embroidery threads and needles
and the hoop. Half done flowers, the cloth all crushed and dirty. And suddenly
I feel like completing the design. Only now, I don't remember to sew. It is
remarkable that I had actually knitted a woollen cap. Well, that's a half
truth! I am finally able to admit that after twelve years! The truth is that I
was and am never good with needles and threads. But what's there to write about
that? That's not least bit inspiring.
I watched the film "PK" sometime around Christmas. It was a
brilliant film. But I could not write anything about that either. I wrote about
"Talaash", "Oh my God" and a few other films earlier. But
whatever I would write- had already been written! I liked the logic in "Oh
my God" better than the emotion and fun-filled "PK"! I thought
that there was nothing anti-religious in the film! Of course- the negative
publicity is always good for business. But by the time I was planning whether
or not to document this piece of thought- the film had grossed 300 Cr in India!
Amidst all this- I happened to do my second book review- "Thr Krishna
Key" by Ashwin Sanghi. Sure I could write about that! Only that- my review
came just up to about two pages worth of words. Rest of the review was excerpts
from the book. And I had no patience to sit and type down some one else's
words.
Ink from my pen had made blotches on the paper. That could not be the
reason either. I had a stash of executive bond papers somewhere. They are now
nowhere! Also- I miss having black ink in my fountain pen. Blue- reminds me of
my days in school. Creative instict is gone. Facts organise and re-organise
themselves in alternative patterns. Only the words change. The rabbit and the hole
are gone!
"Analysis paralysis"- a phrase I read somewhere. It may be that.
Or I don't write for I just happen to like the beauty of an unwritten page...
May be I have come to think that words might disturb the serenity of the page.
Or it could be that I don't think that I have words that equal the beauty of
the page!
I hope this passes too. This phase of what they call- a "writer's
block". Feels good though. Can't have a writer's block if you're not a
writer though- can you...?
