Confessional
Ajeeb dastaan hai yeh…
Kahaan shuru kahaan khatham…
Profound lines. Makes one wonder why such songs don't win Grammys. Not that it matters, of course.
The last three months or so have been, well, different for me. I'm sure you guys must have noticed, but my frequency of posting has become, almost commensurately, quite irregular. I really don’t feel like writing funny stuff (alright, have it your way, attempts at humor) anymore. I don’t think I’ve lost what passes for my sense of humor, but I now need to make an effort to come up with the funnies. The one superpower that I presume to possess, that of Chaat, thankfully seems to be intact, as evidenced only yesterday when I was forced to stop under threat of severe physical damage. All said and done, though, I might still surprise myself and come up with something that’ll hopefully have you rolling. Hell, I might even get started again; all I may need is an Aunt May to tell me that there’s a hero in all of us. Ideally, though, I think I’d prefer sweetly phrased requests from particularly pretty girls.
I haven’t really lost the desire to write, though. To a certain extent, I suppose I really was busy and didn’t have time and all that stuff, but there’s only so much that I can kid myself. Every time I picked up a particularly good book, I’d think, “Shit, I want to write like that” and then immediately wonder if I’m good enough. I suppose I’ll never find out unless I actually put my head down and write. Maybe I’m just afraid of finding out.
I don’t know what I’ll write either. I’m not sure how good I’ll be at fiction. I really don’t think I have the imagination to come up with a yarn that’s good enough. Nor do I think I have the staying power to see it through. I’ll probably just stop caring about what happens to the characters simply because it’s too much work. I don’t know, maybe short stories someday. Non fiction’s an option. I’m not the kind who has an opinion on every issue under the sun, but there are a few things that I’m passionate about, like books and writing, for instance. Most of all, I like giving fundae about such stuff, so I’ll probably write a good deal about books/literature/writing/movies/whatever.
You know, I really do care about this stuff. I mean, it has the ability to get me really excited; emotional, even. I can go on for hours about, say, Three Men in a Boat, or Lost in Translation and why I think they’re such brilliant books/movies. I can read Three Men any number of times and still be moved beyond tears when Jerome talks about the moonlight touching the river’s surface. He gets carried away by the sheer beauty of the night, and so am I, with him. I can feel every bit of Bill Murray’s bittersweet anguish when he waves goodbye to Scarlett Johansson; he’s glad he experienced this, but he’s devastated that he has to leave. At least, that’s what it seems like to me.
So, Gentle Reader, bear with me while I find my niche or whatever it is that I shall search for. I shall experiment a good deal, and I do not know how good the results shall be. However, stay with me, for I shall need your encouragement and criticism, in equal measure. In return, I promise you this: I shall try my best, aur dil se likhne ki koshish karoonga.
Yeh manzilen hain kaun sii…
Na woh samajh sake na hum…
Ajeeb dastaan hain yeh...
Kahaan shuru kahaan khatham…
Profound lines. Makes one wonder why such songs don't win Grammys. Not that it matters, of course.
The last three months or so have been, well, different for me. I'm sure you guys must have noticed, but my frequency of posting has become, almost commensurately, quite irregular. I really don’t feel like writing funny stuff (alright, have it your way, attempts at humor) anymore. I don’t think I’ve lost what passes for my sense of humor, but I now need to make an effort to come up with the funnies. The one superpower that I presume to possess, that of Chaat, thankfully seems to be intact, as evidenced only yesterday when I was forced to stop under threat of severe physical damage. All said and done, though, I might still surprise myself and come up with something that’ll hopefully have you rolling. Hell, I might even get started again; all I may need is an Aunt May to tell me that there’s a hero in all of us. Ideally, though, I think I’d prefer sweetly phrased requests from particularly pretty girls.
I haven’t really lost the desire to write, though. To a certain extent, I suppose I really was busy and didn’t have time and all that stuff, but there’s only so much that I can kid myself. Every time I picked up a particularly good book, I’d think, “Shit, I want to write like that” and then immediately wonder if I’m good enough. I suppose I’ll never find out unless I actually put my head down and write. Maybe I’m just afraid of finding out.
I don’t know what I’ll write either. I’m not sure how good I’ll be at fiction. I really don’t think I have the imagination to come up with a yarn that’s good enough. Nor do I think I have the staying power to see it through. I’ll probably just stop caring about what happens to the characters simply because it’s too much work. I don’t know, maybe short stories someday. Non fiction’s an option. I’m not the kind who has an opinion on every issue under the sun, but there are a few things that I’m passionate about, like books and writing, for instance. Most of all, I like giving fundae about such stuff, so I’ll probably write a good deal about books/literature/writing/movies/whatever.
You know, I really do care about this stuff. I mean, it has the ability to get me really excited; emotional, even. I can go on for hours about, say, Three Men in a Boat, or Lost in Translation and why I think they’re such brilliant books/movies. I can read Three Men any number of times and still be moved beyond tears when Jerome talks about the moonlight touching the river’s surface. He gets carried away by the sheer beauty of the night, and so am I, with him. I can feel every bit of Bill Murray’s bittersweet anguish when he waves goodbye to Scarlett Johansson; he’s glad he experienced this, but he’s devastated that he has to leave. At least, that’s what it seems like to me.
So, Gentle Reader, bear with me while I find my niche or whatever it is that I shall search for. I shall experiment a good deal, and I do not know how good the results shall be. However, stay with me, for I shall need your encouragement and criticism, in equal measure. In return, I promise you this: I shall try my best, aur dil se likhne ki koshish karoonga.
Yeh manzilen hain kaun sii…
Na woh samajh sake na hum…
Ajeeb dastaan hain yeh...
posted by the Monk @ 1:36 PM
19 comments
