Every once in a while, I open my blog and stare at it wondering how it all tapered off, because I really enjoyed writing with whatever little my mind could contain and flowed through my fingers. I spent a long time wondering which one was to be faulted – the mind or the fingers. When the mind was ready, the fingers were not and vice versa. As time passed, I found many reasons not to write - starting with the fear of attention giving way to self criticism, work – lots and lots of it spilling from one year to another and then other issues that made me burrow further into some bottomless pit that made me stare more at the blog with an endless writer’s block.

 

Every once in a while I would open a blank page, stare at it for a few minutes, type a paragraph of words that reflected my own senselessness and then discard it with a pretense that it never happened. A sense of failure is a bitter pill to swallow.

 

Along with it, I lost interest in many things, mainly the happenings around me. I no longer knew who was who and the ones I knew were fading images. I ceased to care and I hadn’t the patience to read anything at its full length. I went by headlines and that was the best I could do. Everything seemed to consume so much energy. And so, my world diminished to fit just me and the shadow that follows.

 

The last subject I attempted scribbling two long paragraphs had me squealing with laughter the next three weeks of lock down period.  I wondered if it had some semblance to what I might have turned into - A Rock!

 

As Mark Twain wrote, of all the things I lost, I miss my mind the most. If I had the mind, I wouldn’t have lost what I derived such great pleasure from, which now feels like a Ter, a treasure perhaps never to be found.

 

But at the end of it, I am left with a lesson – persistence is everything. Take a short break and risk treading a deviated track from where there’s no turning back or start right at zero point. And this is relevant to almost everything in life.

I find this piece resting in one of my archives - a fiction I had written more than a decade back with such amazing innocence and simplicity!

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The teacher was late but she came anyway, much to my utter disappointment!

“Children, open your books now. Let us practice handwriting. Now, everyone write down

The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog

"Remember this is one sentence which contains all the alphabets. Come now; start writing the sentence upto fifty times.”

His mind wasn’t as crisp as the morning he took a brisk walk down the dusty road zigzagging amidst concrete buildings that reeked with greed and rustic owners. Once upon a time this was an open space where he slept on haystacks with his friends, when the sun seemed brighter and the winds blew without care, when people were forgiving and times merrier. Less was more then.

This is a futile attempt to remind you that I am still around, just in case you forgot unless you have stopped visiting altogether :) And as always, this is my dark imagination at work!!

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Osteoporosis

Stumbling in deep agony
Was a fracture in my being
The harbinger of pain…
Of confinement and hopelessness

It gets deeper by the day
On its journey to break my spirit
Till off my mental axis will it
Fade memories of who I used to be

It shifts the structure of existence
Not a step more, it tears the sutures
Not a step back, for with a reverse
Progress was never the end

This moment is then all that is left
To suspend..
To hang onto…
To be…

For when the bones appear, and flesh decays
With a scalpel’s care
And bitter snow befalls the lovely summer
Shallowing breaths will follow

Until the dawn of freedom in entirety
When our little spirits will
Waft through the Himalayan Mountains
Into the laps of heaven…