Create

Create a new post. Its all about clicking on that link and there opens up a space which is truly dimensionless. One can connect to oneself so well only if he/she writes. It is so important to write. It is like the morning pooja that I have seen mothers doing religiously. I tell you it is important to me because I know how it feels when I have not written for years altogether. I feel slightly lost. Not in touch with the ME, if you understand what I mean. Writing and meditating are like two sides of a see saw. When I meditate I free myself of impressions, when I write I quantify those imaging into stories. I am a story teller, thats what I am. I have to write not because you will come to me and tell me how well I write. But because I cannot not write. I feel so liberated having come to realize this truth. Though it took time but I know my destiny. I wanted to be a writer at twenty one, ten years later I want to only write.

Like I scatter books around my home, so that my three year old has an access to them where ever she may be pottering around, I think I must keep my pens and notebooks ready. So that I do not need to open my machine but can just jot an idea which comes as the last thought before i fall asleep. I have this thing (as we like to call it)- wonderful thoughts come just before sleep. In fact I even dream up  great stories. But well dreams are tough to remember and they do not make as much sense(ation) when I wake up.

I have few big ideas which I want to convert into stories. Alright this time for Annie and Milan, they are not mushy. How improbable, but true. One is about solitude. Solitude in different shades, and company in different shades. Making friends with different people and remaining aloof. A friend of mine (if I could call him a friend) once wrote to me advising me to retain my friends from school and college. He had said, you will be able to make friends no more. I wonder why I remember his advice. I have been able to make a very friends after college though. And it is sad they all left the city. Sri, is one friend, who I can still call up sometimes. What made him prophecy about friendship, I wonder. One thing that I have come to learn with time is friendship becomes rare as you age. And the good thing is thats the idea for my story. A seventy five year old woman, who begins life afresh, gets a hair cut, goes for a facial and revives her love for painting. She begins to make friends. And one of her friends will be this self pitying ME :)

I know when I write I try to become this melancholic writer. Finding beauty in sunset. But well, was that not in the past,  when I got hurt in love. Love is a great great experience, sometimes it makes you drunk and other times it makes you write like you were.

I think I am regaining the witty vid. Well I loved her, the wit and the twinkle. I hope you find me less talkative but as interesting. I am coming friends. Welcome your writer to KTM.

PS: shared just one idea for writing in this post. There are two more. and these two are both on non fiction and something Milan w