It Started Somewhere…

I must have started somewhere, at the behest of my consciousness, trying to wake me up to a different world, where I can look out for words and transform them with meaning. Not the meaning that the words carried, but something more creatively crafted with feelings of my own. This is where probably, I tried to look out for more words, the more I stumbled upon them, I felt that I used to be a careless reader; only a casual indulgence in the meaning that was literally visible to me, to the untrained eyes, and the inability to comprehend the vast world of imagination. As I went along with the forced attempts, the words seem to wear off, and the fatigued mind tried escaping the plethora of unanswered questions.

I could not question myself either, because my thoughts were scattered. There was incoherence in the thought process and I had to rein in the raw wildness. The enthusiasm to know more had just started messing with my mind, and there was no way I could translate that to a calm experience of intense reading.

Writing was like a fancy imagination, barely covering the essential feelings because I could not have thought of venturing too far. It would have been arrogant of me to approach the areas that were still hazy in my silly mind. It was silly because was unable to gather the most suitable way to approach a new territory and start a conversation with the esteemed inhabitants; they were there, on their merit, the intense desire to strip off the ambiguity surrounding the creative compositions.

They succeeded early, but they too were trying to reach out to more sacred space of emotions, where words lost meanings, they remained silent for a while, and revived again by the scholarly meanings. Emerging with a new identity to translate and narrate the sophisticated metaphors ( carrying the classical touch) from the great legacy of literary struggle. To falter at that stage is like going into a void, of utter despair of not creating something so radical, that the world would wake up to find the similar kind of classical meaning, but with a contemporary articulation. This is where I thought, I could waste my precious time, take whimsical decisions to alienate myself from the influences of a straightforward and mundane world, and become an apprentice who can untiringly read, (reading the world of literature is like an eternity) and I surrendered to the fate that would lead me through the journey.

Probably, that’s where I realised, I had to start ignoring the distractions, indifference, unworthy (vile) comments, trying to demoralise me because they already were ahead of me, equipped with the finest literary works. It was another realisation, only after I struggled and faced the ignominy, that I could see through their pretentious interpretations, using a borrowed perspective that was narrated verbatim by vague voices. I was disappointed by listening to the disputable interpretations. I stayed there to gain some new craft, the sagacity to pull along everything I had read till now, to their logical next world.

That is where I will again enter my modest place, where I can be vulnerable again, show my tantrums. my newly acquired experience to either spoil or enhance the craft of language. The idea is to use the words, consider their etymology, and still find them new ink and a credible disguise to narrate a story. No, It will not be a personal one, but the world and its blandness, the worn-off facades, all contributed to the urge to create something vibrant. I started picking the flow, I surrendered, went with the current. struggled with the precious metaphors. I was getting there, but when I emerged from the chaos, I felt my pen was fragile, and the ink has revolted. Apart for long, their dislike for each other was palpable.

How could I settle down now, to at least discipline my mind, offer a truce between the pen and ink and create a coherent parallel space, where I can settle down, write, compose, falter, sleep, curse, wake up again, and start another session of writing, probably, infusing my frustrations to make the words creatively resilient.

~Amitav

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