I can feel it. It’s right here – on the tip of my tongue waiting to be uttered; inside that brain cell that’s connected to that nerve that’s supposed to send me the idea; on my fingertips ready to type away; in that drop of ink waiting to be scrawled into patterns; in my eyes that keep scouring for interesting subjects around me. It’s futile – all of it. I still can’t do it; I still can’t write. My tongue won’t speak; the ideas won’t flash; my fingers won’t move; the ink won’t flow and my eyes won’t stop.
All those things I’ve tried. But, this has to be done; I have to try harder, even hard, as hard as it takes. May be I’m not reading enough – I picked up books after books, rummaged for new blogs, read all the popular literary magazines. Nothing changed. But really, how giddy can I get! The spark needs to come from inside, I told myself. I opened a blank word document. It remained blank after two cups of tea and an hour of staring at it with fingers ready atop the keyboard. It’s the corner; it’s making me sick. I moved, lock stock and barrel, to the balcony. I stared at the sky, the glass pool, the flowers and day dreamed, instead. This is really not working. Why can’t I just write – a story, an opinion, a page, a line or even a question!! May be it’s the laptop – too modern for my conservative style. I picked up my yellow pad; doodled a bit and gave up. I’ll take a walk around campus, may be. The greenery, the architecture, the silence, the children, the swimming pool, the peacocks(!!!), the young faces – should inspire something. An hour of walking around in circles with a yellow pad and a pen didn’t change anything other than burn a few calories. May be I need fresh air (or in my case polluted air) and new people; it’s getting too familiar out here. A pocket notebook and another hour later, I was at a close-by supermarket, biting into a Frankie and sitting at a table all by myself. Perfect – so many different kinds of people, their acts to watch, the busy street on the other side, the entire world going past – and yet not a scribble! Can’t sit in a place; doesn’t work; I need to move; capture the world through moving eyes. The 4 pm shuttle, a window seat and a return ticket. Two hours later I had gone all the way up to the city and back to my village; the paper, no doubt, remained blank; my mind had gone still more blank. I give up – this is not my day; it’s hasn’t been my month or even my year. May be it’s time to hang up my pen after all.
Then, in perfect movie style, the phone rings. Oh, the pleasure of a change. Here I am, after a brief from my office I’m trying to put together this note by EOD, as they call it, and I have five word documents and 22 browser windows open. While three word documents and 10 browser windows relate to work, in the remaining I have two plots that are being developed and on-going research for them. And oh, another flicker from my brain– why things happen when we least want them to happen?
