An act that creeps unconsciously into your consciousness and adulterates your thoughts day in and day out, I suppose , that is addiction. You repeatedly perform an action everyday that seems so obvious and one fine day you realize that you are so much comfortable with it or so much uncomfortable without it.
What? What did you think just now? Come again loudly you dumb mind of mine! Of course, I am not talking about daily ablutions. No, not also about mastery in brushing teeth twice daily.
Disguised above is an effort to humbly boast about writing as an addiction. All those wasteful lines were part of 'make word count 600' bug I am presently infested with. Those were also beta version of a magnanimous opening about writing as a skill that I will vomit all around in the next stanzas. Skills which in nascent stage are just Ctrl+C and Ctrl+V but then manifest into a pest reluctant to die anytime soon.
Slowly, I will hypnotize you like the shabby Tantrik of good old Ramasay brother’s Zee Horror Show. As your eyes swing to and fro with the words pendulum, you will hear an echo of "tum mere vash me ho, tum mere vash me ho". Overwhelmed by the seduction, I am sure you will rapidly scroll down to the comments section and type in praise of this post "What a crap!Didn't know you can write trash so well" or more politely " Wow!purely a dustbin material".
I understand that when people tell how good you are at something that not necessarily means you are being appreciated. It also means they have had enough of you. Remember the college auditorium where a self acclaimed speaker is applauded midway during his speech signalling that the students want no more of him. I also understand that there is a hidden displeasure in comments like 'keep writing' or 'you write well'. But when your mind is blind by misconception about your annoyingly bad abilities then motivation effuses even from taunts and sarcasms.
Forgive me friends. But for the past few months I am suffering from an intense delusion of thoughts. So much so that recently I texted my Ex a happy Raksha bandhan and spoiled all chances of a superhero comeback by the next valentine.
My life has been on a recent turmoil as I suffered the first blow of transfer as a government employee. The over hyped government bungalows and helping staffs had deserted me. The bereavement caused an emotional trauma leading to loss of coherence in thought. Every idea of a new blog post was brutally murdered at the hands of a daunting task of searching a house on rent. The whole blogosphere was abuzz with daily new posts and there was I, bound with duty during day hours and spending wonderful evenings looking for To-Let boards. That is when I realised how much uncomfortable it is for a bad writer and a free adviser to not get to unleash their knowledge upon others. Free advices in real world and blog posts in virtual are like internet popups- there will be many as long as you are alive anywhere.
A maha purush, with 3400 fb friends, once told me that long subverting your feelings may lead to emotional constipation that may ease out only after three to four irrelevant and utterly dark and stinking blog posts. This one I guess is the first of them. One may run away from the onslaught of such unappetizing posts. But I share an emotional attachment with the motion of words originating from deep crevices of mind. As my fingers again traverse the contour of keypad reproducing the nauseating thoughts on the screen I feel free. Free and unbound like a school kid bursting with energy and ready to run and laugh after a hiatus of morning assembly prayer. I feel what one feels after Kayam Churna or the more marketable Patanjali Kabz Har Churna. Relaxed and satisfied like Bashkor Banerjee in the climax of the movie Piku.
Sincere thanks for bearing with the above sh**,
Hope to see you soon .
Thankyou for reading