Thursday, January 24, 2008

“Thank you for the words …”

That a troubled mind is the best muse, is something I have come to believe in strongly. When I am troubled and in unrest, words flow unhindered. Ideas struggle to find their way onto paper and the whole experience is so cathartic that it often leaves me feeling calmer and more at peace with myself.

This in itself is a dangerous situation. The flowing words do little to resolve the issues that had unsettled the mind in the first place. They act like anaesthetics – providing temporary relief till the dull ache returns as the anaesthetic wears off; till one realizes that the root cause still remains.

Those few moments of peace, though, help to soothe frayed nerves and allow the failing confidence to claw its way back, to reinstate that lost bit of self esteem and to be honest, to also provide a sense of superiority – that will sound funny I think!! But the gift of words is so often not given to all, and those that may, often secretly steal a moment of pride. Arrogance? Mostly no... I think its just a sense of happiness, that is known only to those who experience it. A sense of fulfillment that can only be experienced and is so difficult to describe, even by those who have a way with words!

So I say a la ABBA ….

“Thank you for the words
The lines I’m writing
Thanks for all the joy they’re bringing
Who can live without it
I ask in all honesty.
What would I be?
Without the words we write
What are we?
So I say,
Thank you for the words….
For giving them to me!”

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Mindless Meanders 1

Woods and Caterpillar

Twigs and leaves under his legs crackled as he slowly shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Sitting in the bush seeking exotic species was never going to be an easy job. He had known that, but he had never thought it would also involve cultivating skills like holding one's breath till one's lungs were about to give up just because there was a pack of wild cats sniffing at the strange scent that lay in the air or going for days on end in the woods without a bath till he himself couldn't bear his own scent or having to deal with more types of insect bites than he could count and perpetually sore feet and scratched hands and legs... All the same with the thorns came the moments of joy....

This one for example... the caterpillar slowly started spinning the silken thread around it, covering itself in a white glistening cocoon of silk, while on the branch above, an erstwhile caterpillar was discovering that the new wings it had could let it fly!!!