Confessions of a Writer

I would like to confess something on WordPress today.

I’m not a writer; yes, that’s true I’m not. Wondering who gave me your address.
Not long ago, my sister introduced me to WordPress and through WordPress I came to meet so many talented writers. Yes, they are writers. In reading their blogs I have known them to have this writing habit right since childhood. Some started to write at the raw age of five and some seven and yet others at the age of eleven.

I’m still novice and if I compare (just an expression, I would dare not compare myself to these talented gifted writers) myself to them I’m just a toddler. Writing is a very recently acquired habit.

If I try to look at the root of this cause I will find “reading” to be its answer.
Many people love to read and many start reading at the age of ten or twelve. It was not untill graduation that I started reading books. Before that I only used to read my subject books. But when I started to read, I read and I read and kept on reading and am still reading.

In school I loved to hear others saying “I love to read books”. Everyone in my family was into reading and so books were found everywhere. I was often told “you should read books or maybe newspapers”. To save myself from any embarrassment in front of friends and family members even I started harping…“I love to read books”. When asked which book is your favourite or anything related to books, I would tell a story and escape the conversation.

When I was staying alone while working I really wanted to read books. While talking to a friend of mine I said, “Even I want to read a book”. The next day she got Da Vinci Code for me. Yes, you have guessed it right, this is how long I’ve been reading books, which is not too long.

The book was too interesting and controversial. How was I to take the book? I took it in the spirit of reading a novel. It was just a novel to me and I had to finish it. After that I read other books by the same author. Then walking one step at a time, I moved to other authors like Jeffery Archer, Stephen King, Ruskin Bond to name a few.

I didn’t realize that I was infected by a reading virus. I started reading books from various genres- self help, fiction, non-fiction, classic and spiritual. Only recently I realized that there is no cure for this “reading disease” of mine. Looking at my intensive reading habit I came up with a cure- read for atleast half an hour every day. Yes, I have to read for at least half an hour everyday, maximum hours can vary. Although, I cannot read for an entire day (it makes me dizzy and confused). Too much reading is like over stuffing my mind.

All this while I did not know that this habit will impact me to such an extent. I was feeding my mind with knowledge; after some time it was not able to take it anymore. I could almost hear the buzzing of my thoughts. At first I didn’t know what to do? After observing myself and consulting with the creative me, I came up with a solution. I started to write my thoughts.

I was amazed to find out that these thoughts proved to be the base of some story or prose. Sometimes they were roughly scribbled poems.

After writing and reading it out to some of my family members I was encountered with a much known question “So, am I a writer?”

I started ruminating. I realized that I’m as much a writer as a child is a painter. If a child loves to paint he/she doesn’t become a painter. So, much so if I write I’m not a writer. I love to write but I’m not a writer. The passion holds me firmly to a pen and paper but I know there are too many things that I need to take care of- grammar, punctuations, vocabulary to name a few. But I also know that I’m learning at every stage and with every step I’m enhancing my skills.

I write because I love to share my views. I write to express myself and more than that it is a cure for my buzzing mind with non-stop thoughts. So I write. I write as I’m not a writer but I know to write.

In response to: Writing Challenge: Writerly Reflections

Blues in life

Life is just like a tide in an ocean; you have highs and you have lows in life.
High waves are a representation of excitement in life and low waves represents weariness and hopelessness.

What do I do during those weary moments of my life?
It very simple, I’ve a few tips of my own. Some might be weird, some might already be followed by you and some would make you smile a little.

The first one on my list is to cry. It eases away all the emotional pain and feelings of distress. It proves to be a good therapy. When I’m thinking too much and the blues have drained me of my sleep, I simply cry. I simply cry at it and not laugh at it. I would laugh at it had the blues hit me during my high tide, but during my low tides I like to cry.

Let me tell you how it proves to be effective.
I make sure that I think about all the aspects of the problem and start crying at night when everyone is off to sleep. After crying for sometime I go off to sleep. I’m always able to sleep peacefully after that. Let me warn you, the next day I wake up with a swollen face. But it proves to be effective as the pain has subsided. If it still exists I carry the therapy for few more days the pain just vanishes away and I bounce up like a high tide.

The second one is to write. Even before I started writing, and much before the WordPress coming into my life I had a small dairy. It is still there with me. All my experiences good and bad are captured in it. It serves as a scrap book, capturing the good and bad moments of my life (no pictures included, just words). Over the years my dairy has been my silent companion by simply giving itself to me by letting me jot down the important moments of my life.

The next on my list is: praying and meditating.

Of course this should be at the top of the list but it is not. Let me explain. When I have lost all hope, I have a restless mind and I no longer can take the pain-I simply cry. When I’m in a situation and floating in the sea of life, I analyze and try to find a solution-I write. When I’m all positive about the solution and know the steps to take- I pray or mediate.

In response to:Daily Prompt: Singing the Blues

A New Me

I entered, I was happy to see Sahil. He treats my hair like no other hair stylist. I always get my hair cut from him and no body else. He was busy brushing, combing, and massaging a customer’s hair. He looked at me and gave me a smile. He asked me to wait for some time.

I waited for him to get over with the other client but then in fifteen minutes time he called me. He asked me to sit on the chair. I sat. I always close my eyes when I sit, I don’t know why, but I always do this. Maybe I’m too confident completely entrusting myself and more importantly my hair at the hands of others. But he is no other guy, he is my hair stylist. He is the guy. Or maybe I want to meet a newer version of me.

I have known Sahil for at least four years now. He is an expert and gives the best treatment to your hair. Just like a mother leaves her children at a creche knowing that they will be taken care off in the same manner I knew Sahil will take care of my hair.
In these four years I have know him to be an expert. I have known him to give the right advice to groom my hair. He has always given the best treatment to my hair. In these four years he has always treated me “like a customer is the king”. He has understood my requirements and given a perfect hair cut to me. He had always been polite. But the one thing that he had not done in these four years was to “smile”. This was the first time he did it.

While I was sitting at my “customer’s chair” he was combing my hair, trimming it, checking for the length (because I had instructed him not to shorten the length too much). Now normally he would have taken atleast one hour but this time I was amazed at the skills that he demonstrated. He gave me a haircut and at the same time finished with the hair treatment of the other client.

I thought he likes to do everything on his own but this time I was happy to see him take the command in his hands. I had never seen him delegating work to his assistant, but this time he was. As he was applying some pack on the hair for the other client he was instructing his assistant “blow dry the hair, do it nicely…comb, comb it nicely, don’t touch the part which is clipped…now come here rinse the hair, do it properly.” Now this was the first time he not only looked commanding but also sounded commanding.

Tossing between the clients he was done with cutting my hair.

As I said I don’t look up until the final moment, where he says “Please take a look, it’s done.” That is the final moment for me. Will I be looking at a new me, will he have understood my instructions, will I have the hair cut that I had imagined, the most important will I look good, will it suit me. I realize that it is a bit too late for all this. With all these thoughts lingering in my head, I finally raise my head up in slow motion. A final thought before I look at myself, “even if it does not suit me, I’ve come to a point where I don’t care.” So, I don’t care and I look at myself and …yeah!… I have a new look. I am happy to meet the new person. She looks different.

And all thanks to…Sahil. He did it again, gave me a wonderful haircut.

A Job

I do. I do, love you, my job.

It was eight years back that I found you. I would have been lost in the gallery of life, had passion not driven me to you. Now you would be wondering as to what do I do.
I train people on communication skills, customer service and other aspects of soft skills. Long time back when I had joined a company, I met my trainer. She was full of energy and I wanted to be like her.

I started paving my path towards my goal as a trainer. I loved every aspect of training, right from the research work…to building games, involving participants, reading…giving feedback…receiving appreciation from clients and participants…working long hours…staying up the entire night preparing reports, going for meetings, preparing presentations.

Every day I got up with a smile to meet my batch. With every batch I learnt new things and shared my knowledge with them.

This could very well be my present day, very busy, but it is not. For the past three years I have been working on project basis because of my health. Mostly it is due to migraine, which could be due to stress, bad weather, too much of coffee or the lights from the projector sometimes even scent of a bouquet will be sufficient enough to trigger the pain.
What happens after this? I become an observer captured in my own body. It seems that the pain takes the driver’s seat and I’m sitting at the back. Thanks to my doctor and thanks to my candy headache tablets (yes that’s what I call them) I can pop it in anytime and it eases my pain.

Present Day- I still love my job. My relationship with my job is based on passion and dedication and I’m not going to leave it. Working on a part time basis perfectly suits me well.

Now I can invest my time in other activities also which gives me pleasure. Like reading, writing, meditating, cooking, listening to songs, paintings, craft work and gardening. Yes, these activities are for pleasure’s sake only and no money is involved in performing or showcasing them.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/24/daily-prompt-sixteen-tons/

Sleep come my way

sleep

Wow! It’s sleeping time again.

As, the clock strikes 11 o’clock; my eyes shuts down with the burden of the day.

Sometimes it is a conscious effort, the other times it is so effortless.

Sometimes I’m a log. Not worried about the past or the future to come.

This is my zone, this is my time.

Not to be disturbed, I sleep so easy.

Sometimes dreaming and sometimes sleeping.

Restless are those nights when tension piles up in my mind.

What do I do as I try to sleep?

I roam around the house like a ghost haunting the house.

I read a page or two until the words make my eyes drown and a soft lullaby plays along.

I say, “Sleep please come way.”

“Please visit my home today. Don’t go any other way.”

The fairy listens to my song and I fall like an apple on the ground.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/23/daily-prompt-mr-sandman/

Wish what you may

No, I’ve never been near any wishing fountains. No, I never had the opportunity to throw coins in those wishing fountains. And since the above two haven’t been tried my wishes have not come true.

Although I’ve never thrown any coins in the fountains I have thrown pebbles in the wells and ponds. I loved throwing a stone on the well as it made a dub…dub sound and sank down. I also loved the sound of the stone thrown in an open space like a pond or a river. I enjoyed the music and saw the stone fading away in water just like the sound was lost in it.

But I have followed other practices to make my wishes come true.

I have wished upon my fallen eye lashes (As they rest on my cheeks, someone took it and gave it on my hands and asked me to make a wish and blow at it).

I have wished on my birthday candles. Something that we all did when we were children. Make a wish and blow the candles.

Three sneezes one after the other meant something coming true. So, I got ready to wish.

Wish on a star that was right on top of my head (or it seemed so), was a favourite one when I was a kid.

A very common one is wishing on a falling star, but again I’ve never seen one. I do wish to see it one day.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/21/daily-prompt-coins/

Music in the house

music

There is something to like about it. Music. Everyone likes them or so I believe.

Some love it so much that there house would seem like a recording room, all the time music playing. Music is their life style. Music and songs are in every room.These ones are the music lovers, true music lovers.

Some don’t love it at all. To them it is, “What is all this noise?”

No one was a true music lover in my house and songs were not played throughout the day. Songs were played only in the mornings or evenings. They were not played in all the rooms. One boombox was placed right at the center of the hall and the volume was audible enough to be heard from any end of the rooms or from any corners of the house.

So, yes I heard music during my growing years.Music was strictly in the form of devotional songs. We were not allowed to listen to any other form of music (it meant no movie songs, pop albums or any other form of songs).

I think, I had started liking all those songs. They had a soft beat and low rhythm. They kept you positively charged throughout the day, this I say because I used to keep smiling all day long. Greet the teachers with a smile, talk with a smile. Now don’t think I’m mad, I was just a child then and the songs were having a positive impact on me…growing years, what can you say, rules are made by the others and not you.

I think now I’ve developed a taste towards soft music. I don’t like loud music. And of course still wondering about the smile, it’s still there and it still keeps me positive.

🙂

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/20/daily-prompt-papa-loves-mambo/

Love stays strong

hands

We met as colleagues. We passed each other at our coffee breaks.

We went discovering a town that was new to both of us. I don’t know if it was the company or the place but I liked both.

I was a shy person, bit reserved but I guess, I had already started liking him.

Friendship grew strong and proposal came along.

We tied knots, stayed strong.

Things changed much from young to mature, from surprising elements in relationship to learning new things about each other.

I know he stood strong; he knew I stood strong.

Storm came along, but we moved on.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/18/daily-prompt-thats-amore/

Lingering moments

raj

I wish a vacation never ends

I wish a good time with my family goes on forever

I wish the beauty of nature does not come to an end

I wish the sweet scent of flowers never die

I wish a pleasant stroll across the sea goes on forever

I wish a good book never ends

I wish an inspirational movie goes on life long

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/17/daily-prompt-linger/

Tale of wrinkles

wrinkled face

The term “age” generally means “experience and learning” to me. For a child things are simple and original (atleast it was to me when I was a child). I remember my aunt bringing a talking doll for me when I was six or so, it was a new thing to me; I had only seen the normal dolls, blinking their eyes and raising their arms and legs, so this was new (a couple of years later she will bring a crying baby doll for my sister, that would also be new to me). Many things are new when you try to look from a child’s eyes.  The pencil with floral prints, pencil box with a musical note to it, pencil erasers of different shapes and sizes, a card that plays music as you open to read it, band-aid with colours and faces of cartoons (than just a plain one). Then you see- the age of black and white television sets and then coloured ones (they were the box that had magic in them, you turn it on you see people and things come to life, you turn it off they go away), computers (that were replacing work force. It was also difficult to understand as to how could a machine do the work of ten/ twenty or more people), mobile phones (simple, complicated, 2Gs, 3Gs, 4Gs and what not). They all were new at some point in time. But with growing age, I became wise (as it is said and believed that old are wise) to know that these things were losing its originality and value, they no longer surprised me.

We humans have a tendency to relate age with death (Atleast my grandparents and parents thought the same, so I believe it was centuries old thought, but now we have replaced age with beauty). The wrinkles on our faces tell the years of our survival and life on the planet. I remember my grandmother she had wrinkles, lots of them. But in the folds of those wrinkles were hidden life’s experiences, learnings, based on these she would tell me stories and narrative incidents to strengthen my life. They also had lots of love and hidden emotions to convey her feelings, which was difficult for a child like me to show. I only had a few emotions to play:happy-laugh, sad- cry, surprise- jump, not too many you see. But today, even I have a lot of emotions to play from my experiences in life, from simple to complicated. What do they do? Sometimes they make simple things, complicated and the other times I succeed in making complicated things, simple or even more complicated.

The rising age is suggestive to a lot of things like: more and more friends and acquaintances, life’s experiences and harshness, hoping for a better tomorrow, looking at your family tree growing with newer branches and leaves, being with your family during both happy and sad times, it shows you the reality of the world, now these could be the positive things on the list.

There is only one negative point though “your age is increasing in number” (one digit…two digits…13…25…34…48…and till you are alive). We girls don’t like that at all and will do anything to hide it at first, and then comes the knowingness that it will be futile to do so. You cannot run against time in any way possible, so you run with it, your choice to run fast or slow (I think that is fair enough at least we get that much choice to make). So, lesson learnt: you cannot fool time so we learn to accept the growing digits in our ticking age clock.

Animals grow old like us, hard to comment on their level of experience and learings though. But they show physical signs of aging as in slow, lazy, staying at one place.

Then comes the non-living things, they tell a different tale altogether.  Talk about a historical monument or any structure as a matter of fact. If you visit an old cathedral or an old fort you will be amazed to see it vastness and magnitude of the structures. They give a glimpse of a bygone era… and leave you wondering about its life and how life would have been at that place. They help you to relive and construct a past that is no longer there. It gives you the power to imagine and be a part of a life that was lived in that particular structure or a monument. Sometimes structures also tell the sad story of human life and death inside those walls. If you go to a deserted mental asylum or a prison building it will give you an eerie feeling. It will give a sad feeling making it hard for you to breathe…but it will tell a story, not of a rich culture but of miseries of those people.

So, everything catches the dust of age and they all tell stories.

Weekly Writing Challenge: Golden Years