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Cee’s Black & White Challenge: Reflections and Shadows

Here’s my contribution for Cee’s Black & White Challenge: Reflections and Shadows

Reflection

Reflection on the mirror

Reflection on the mirror

Reflection on a pond

Reflection on a pond

Shadows

Shadows on the ground

Shadows on the ground

Shadow

Shadow

 

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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

I’m getting late

BG

 

I could see the tears roll out of her eyes,

I had a handkerchief in my hand that I could not lend.

“How could he not be here?” was her thought.

Less did she know that he was already there.

He tried to comfort her, but he was hardly noticed.

 

He had told his friend,” How happy I’m today.”

He stormed out of the house;

Shouting and waiving at his friend,” I’m getting late”.

 

For late he was at his own wedding, as everyone thought.

He said,” I’m here let’s begin the wedding.”

He went before the mirror to check his bow as nobody would do it for him.

Standing before the mirror he looked at himself soaked in blood.

He did realize that he was late; for he is never going to make for this wedding.