Writer’s Block

Days I spent
Thinking
and thinking
and thinking
Finding excuses to procrastinate;
After the lunch
Or Netflix
Or sleep
Or Netflix again
Or read
Or a bit more research
And then ofcourse
Netflix yet again,


So many days I have thought
Passing by the same old roads
Eyes seeing everything new
yet registering every thing same
Time flying by
As I think
more
and more;
Unstructured
random memories
coming from different corners,
How do I weave a story out of them?
Plain and simple
I can understand
and yet can’t translate.


As the clock’s hands tick by
And I think
think harder
sitting by the window
breathing in the air
without mask
listening to the music
without earphones
Memories of green farms and rustling leaves
Blue sky dotted with gray monsoon clouds
As I gaze
And think
I think even more
About the people I have found interesting
The people I want to write about
About the places
About me
About my life
About their lives
About non-lives
About semi-lives
About changing the world
About the changing world
About being immortal in this universe
And yet utterly
Insignificant.

Probably it’s time to stop
And turn all that thinking into prose
I miss the days when the words would just flow
and flow
and won’t stop
pushing me to write
and rewrite
till late into the night
words flowing like music
words moving like dance
words coming straight from the heart
words making an honest art
But now
How do I weave the fabric of my mind?
How do I dye it with the ink of my pen?
How do I?
When there is so much
And when the nib touches the page
The magic disappears.

***

A wasted vocabulary

Words give away, you know. The snitch. Ratting bastards. Force your detachment, a vehement denial or a secret acceptance for a fiction juxtaposed on a non-fiction and yet they would make the forbidden revelations anyway. Tell them not to and they would confess loudly and openly your hitherto secrets even before you could confess it to your own self.

Words give away, the treacherous cartographers! They would shamelessly plot a map of your vulnerability; leaving it for others to discover and explore. Don’t use them on drawing books. They’d sketch and re-sketch your nakedness in all its ugliness.

Words! Don’t know how to handle them! Such confused creatures! Make them too simple and they would convey your message as a cacophonous crow’s call. Coat them with luxurious vocabulary and instead of glorifying the beauty of your thoughts they would fashionably accentuate your dishonesty and pretentiousness.

Words give away! Oh dear! Don’t trust them! The ultimate occupational hazard! Once you let the valves open there is no emergency button to shut them down. Keep these deceptive creatures away – they have several pathways leading straight to your heart, welcoming everyone, sparing none.

Words give away, the misleaders, the irritating fuckers!  Once the chosen ones hit your head, no synonyms can help you. Replace them with all the fancy syllables you know and yet they would stay out of tune until you use that clichéd set of musical notes that you had meant to avoid all along. Words leave you at odd times! They wouldn’t appropriately describe that amazing moment you had so desperately wanted to capture. And yet they would perfectly document the embarrassment that you resolved to forget permanently.

Words give away, don’t trust these babies and if you can still runaway, RUN! But if you can’t. Then welcome comrade! How have you been? Lie back. What can we do? Let us write a poem together. Don’t let someone else read it though. If you do, we would forever be trapped in the act of differentiating between false appreciation and honest compliment. Nothing would ever be good enough. But nothing can be bad either. Nevertheless, stay here, don’t go! Let’s marvel at the innocence hidden behind their maliciousness instead. Let’s watch them catch our ugly truths with infinite gracefulness. Let’s bloom without wondering about the odd colour combination of our petals. Let’s watch them make way for our idiosyncrasy carefully peeking out from the blanket of our sentences. Let’s swoon to the awkwardness of the lyrics that we just penned down. Let’s dance to the sorrow it conveys. Let’s share the tears at the joy it expresses. Aren’t you amazed by these supernatural abilities? Words give away, the lovers. Once they connect with you, there’s no way to break that bond. Words give away, the interpreters, they would translate the message that can never be spoken or seen. Words give away, the saviors! Even with all their treachery, how do we learn to live without them?

~Musings from the coffee shop

P.S. You can find more posts on the musings from the coffee shop here .