Yes, it's a radio wave beamed from a far galaxy. For I am space travelling, time warping..shrinking years into months, scrunching months into days, miniaturing days into tiny dots.
And I have no illusion that my fistful readers( or was it the lone 'I' always? ) have grown into aliens or worse yet, have ceased to exist by now. Who waits and counts his days for a Halley's comet to appear, anyway? If it happen, fine, puff out a solitary wow, stash the experience on a cornered cerebral cell and walk on. If it don't, well, no bother.
Now enough with the celestial waffling.
Blogging has been always cathartic to me. A drainage in melancholy, a smoking pipe in exaltation. Neither a habit nor an incumbent duty. If no rise and dip happen in my day, then nothing happen here as well. It's just like no tremor is yielded unless the earth cracks or quakes in its heart.
For all the patient and inquisitive eyes who still occasionally or regularly peer at this blog, thank you so much.
You deserve it. And I mean it.
Now a small update from my side. No, it's not every one's favourite wedding thingy ( last time I checked, either all the stupid girls have rightly married the wrong guy already or the intelligent one is wrongly waiting for the right guy perenially. I, being neither the right nor the wrong, am looking for a tentacled alien.) After following 100 ways of killing time, which includes laying supine on my bed to giving annoying calls to people, wedging my back to a rust eating bench in certain parks to posing on a broken raft on a scummy lake, I kinda have rediscovered the best way to kill time, to keep oneself straying into a starry sky and thence to nothingness.
And it's doing what I always wanted to do and which I have kept postponing forever. But not anymore.
For three-four months I have been writing a novel- "bricks were mud once". Yes, you have heard it. So, you can clean your wax later :) Not big progress, but a decent start I guess.
Though it's too premature even to announce, almost in its embryonic stage, I am rulling out any future abortion or miscarriage. And I am as excited as a first time legitimate pregnant woman!!
Though I don't know when the first shitty draft will be complete. But I am slowly earning a confidence that I can pull it.
The feeling is amazing. To put down my musings into dialogues and scenes, shaping the things the way I want it to be, the control and insights you hold over the characters, being the reader as well as the writer, story versus exposition, frustrating brainstorming versus surprising ideas.
But it ain't easy. Particularly when after a 750 ml water bottle is drunk to the bottom, when even after three hours I find myself still staring at a blank screen.
But then nobody assumes it is.
And it is a long way before I pen down the words , "The End".
And I am so clueless about how to reach there, despite knowing that where "the end" ends!
But I can tell you, at least for now, it begins with,
"They say their lives were shaped by exactly one moment, that what they have become today is an outcome of a single event. If I am to believe them, then that moment was the moment of their birth in a billionaire house, of winning an enormous lottery sufficient enough to feed their family till a great great grandchild's time, of an accident which they thought would kill them, but left them unscathed while killing everyone else or if they are scientists, then when they ran naked shouting "eureka..". I call them lucky winners. And if you are like me, then the chance is that you too opine that such fortunate moments are as rare as the lightening striking twice on the same spot."
and ends with,
"Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said. Up the sky was still blue. Beneath the sea was still aqueous bluish. I still didn't know why. Neither I cared to know. They were cuddling and frolicking. The sky and the sea. And I could see that to the end of an infinite line."
With love,
Nitu
