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Monday, February 20, 2012

The 'About Me' Fiasco

Sometimes, you just have the perfect topic to write upon. Two hours back, my confused self was surfing the net as usual for unmentionable stuff. A report here, an article there, facebook, twitter, blog etc when I landed upon one of the most neglected and cornered points of a social site, the About Me section. And to my surprise, it was blank on my profile.


Several thoughts flooded my brains, some aptly describing me, some way away from the actual me, still trying to convince me that it was the 'right thing' to write. To be at loggerheads with your own self about  your own self is the worst nightmare. For around ten minutes, I could not write even a word. And I was really aggrieved. You spend valuable time and incessant amount of energy trying to scribble amazing poems, the most sought after fiction and yet you fail to write things that describe your own self! Wriggling defeat in my own self, and with a disturbed conscience, I frantically drank a glass of water carrying a heavy breath.


Several minutes later, I penned down something. I do not know whether it is conclusive of what I actually am. Amidst a disappointing state of affairs, my heart began to shrink. I wore a heavy sense of defeat in me, almost crying to the damn thought of failing to describe what I myself am. Banging down the laptop lid, I ran to the balcony all disappointed, frantic and cold. Saved by my mothers call for breakfast, I soon disappeared down the hall.


Instead of a relief, the breakfast turned out to be a disaster. I left the table wondering whether I even deserve to be the elder son. Zillion questions swarmed my brain, rendering my confidence to its knees and myself, huh, to no damn where. I was lost, worried for my parents future, and indebted to my younger brother for supporting the family in my absence. To what I should have been, that kid has performed exceptionally well being that. It was like, an amalgamation of pride and disappointment. A lethal mixture of vanity and stress. Vanity and stress, both together call themselves a fiery comet of depression. And I was riding on that. I am riding on that.


And about me, well, that is a fraction of it for now. Actually, I havent even begun. My fear has no bounds right now. I have never ever felt so helpless and vulnerable, as far as my love for my family goes.


Anyway, I hope to scribble down more during my train journey. And well, thats about me for now, my car is waiting.

The Old Leaf

These days mostly I am out of sync. To call myself a lost freak is my favourite time pass. Still, I must mention this. My inability to write anything these days is attributed to the cacophony of my thoughts and desires. I remember my days of writing...

A mindful of heart wrenching thoughts, dutifully accompanied by a pen and a cup of hot coffee. The soul used to utter nothing, yet said it all. And that is how I decided to name myself first as The Silent Soul, if people remember. Light head, heavy thoughts used to guard my day all along. Every faint voice in my head used to transform into a prose, every feeling into a short poem. I remember vividly still, the fire was so strong, I used to pen down thoughts and poems in a matter of ten minutes, after returning from college. The professor used to be busy with his differential calculus, and I, the epitome of lost majnoo, would be engrossed in my "integral calculus". Beautifully incarnated lines, stories and a pleasant demeanor was my forte on my blog. I made one of the sweetest friends here, some of them are surely going to be in my love books for my entire life, (I hope you guys are reading it). Four of the most beautiful people in my life presently, have been gifted to me by this place. The say I write well and should continue with it, (both facts are impossible it seems!) and I really appreciate their modesty, as they themselves are gems and amazing writers who have taught so much to me. I remember sharing comments and learning through them. I miss it. I miss everything. I do not know where is that self of me who used to impregnate me with feelings. Life has taken a nasty turn, and I, the silent soul has been muted towards its thoughts and feelings. It feels like the soul is searching for a body, and yes the soul is, thus, fervently restless. 
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