Reflections of a restless eccentric

A year ago,when I started writing for this blog,I was filled with enthusiasm.The articles were spontaneous,the writing was effortless and I heard good things from my readers.One year later,I still write as much as I used to.But at times I wonder: Is my writing still good? Does it have the spark that it originally had?  (On darker nights,the question changes to Did it ever have any spark at all to begin with?:P)  Or has it lost all flavor and turned into drab,meaningless monotony?  The questions echo back to me unanswered.I cannot judge my own writing.Till sometime back,I thought people's opinions were something to go by.I listened to what my close friends would say about my articles,trusting them to be honest.The feedback used to puzzle me,because one friend would tactfully tell me: I don't think this was your best work while another would gleefully exclaim: Oh,I loved this one.It's just amazing. Of course,the answer is simple:People can look at my work as outsiders,but

Wondering if I can write anything worthwhile in less than 50 words(okay, make that 100:P).Here goes nothing:) Things change.More often than not,this change is irreversible.Which is why you can revisit people and places,but it isn't as you've imagined it to be.You are also a part of this change--each day destroys the you from yesterday and re-creates you for the morrow.Considering this,every action leads you to a place that you cannot come back from.In life,there is no full circle. I wish to go back to a scheme of things that has long since changed.I myself have. Nostalgia is all the more painful when you realize there is no scope for recreating what you so dearly miss. If you looked at life as a series of points that you could never again revisit,would you live it differently?

Author :Whispers in the wind Edit:Not happy with this post at all.W ord limits drain my creative juices. Needs major revamping.I shall get around to it...someday:P In the meantime,check this out--  Adventures of the Innocent:The Drug Den .Author--Dragon Rider One of these evenings where we set out to shop. During such expeditions, a lot of time goes into looking at things we have no intention of buying, discovering things we didn't know existed and discussing everything we find in the process. As perfume/deodorant enthusiasts, we always check them out in the hope of stumbling upon something amazing. Wrist. Palm. Elbow. Arm. So many scents that we soon lost track of what was sprayed where. Then, we decided to buy them from a different supermarket. I kept sniffing at my hand on the way there and really liked the fragrance. So did my friend. We swore to buy that one . Sadly for us, we knew not the source of the fragrance we liked. We tried some more till all the world smell

Something that resulted from a whatsapp conversation. This is a joint venture. I present to the readers of my blog my best friend,co-conspirator and collaborator of this series-- Dragon Rider :D Check out her blog here-- The Tales of the Incredibly Common The idea is to chronicle the remarkable incidents of our graduate life with brevity. It was initially envisioned as a series of microtales, but 32 words is a really hard limit,especially for verbose people like me :P So here we go.Excited about this!Each post will have an author mention. The name of the series is tentative and might undergo a change. :) Also,there could be other authors.

@Chella: In case you still read my blog,would you be interested in co-authoring this series? I'm sure you have valuable insights on the topic! We discussed something along these lines remember? :P No,I don't hate people.It's just that sometimes I want to be alone.Utterly alone.I'm sure you have such days too! Sadly,most acquaintances and friends expect you to talk to them the moment you see them.So what do you do when you're trying to desperately avoid people and yet don't want to come across as rude? Eye contact:The precursor to all conversation is eye contact:P If you avoid this,you have a sure as hell shot at avoiding all interaction that follows.Eye contact is one of the most powerful non-verbal cues.If you don't look at someone,the odds are that they won't talk to you. Earphones/Headphones: Technology's gift to us! These always work--you don't even have to be listening to anything;plug them in and you're all set.Not

They say it's a gift to be able to think To reason,to figure out the scheme of things Yet,there are times when I think it's more of a curse One whose prophecy you cannot escape. For it is an inner demon,a part of you And how can you evade yourself? The wheels in my head rotate and rotate I ponder over every minute decision Every fork in the road: Is this right?Is this wrong? Is it a tangent that will forever distort my trajectory? I list out the pros and cons Hoping the balance will tilt one way Putting me out of my misery. But it never does,for there are unknowns on either side Each of which can take too many values to bear thinking about So the dreaded process continues Like a machine headed to wreck itself. I look around and see oblivious souls People who let the current carry them as it would a wayward leaf I envy them for the silence in their heads No monsters to slay,no questions to answer How peaceful must such an existence be

Since life is rather lacklustre at this point,I thought of starting a new series:P I'm not sure if I still qualify as an introvert,because I'm making attempts to actually talk.Nevertheless,from more than two decades worth experience at being one,I can  definitely  write this:D For as long as I can remember,I have felt like a fish out of water.I thought that when I finally belonged somewhere,it would feel amazingly blissful.As if it were proof of normalcy;a validation of the fact that I am a human being too. As a kid,I never knew how to make conversation.All my answers would be monosyllabic and any attempt someone made to talk to me would go down the drain.I was very upset about this when my grandfather quoted Dale Carnegie to me: "If you want to be interesting,you have to be interested."   Since then,I have used this method unfailingly to my benefit.Given that most people like to talk about themselves,it is very easy to draw them out with a question.As

I was pondering upon this last night:What is it that is wrong in my life? Why is it that so little productive work gets done everyday? I mentally iterated through all the possible reasons. Am I unaware of what needs to be done? Not so,I have a clear idea. Do I have problems thinking or finding a solution? Not really.Given a reasonable amount of time,I can eventually figure out the answer. Do I hate what I do? Again,no.I don't really love it either, but hate is nowhere close to it.In other words,there isn't anything else I'd rather be doing. Is my planning ineffective? Ah,I'm a paper tiger with exceptional organisational skills:P Definitely not this. Do I not have time? Of course,this is everyone's favorite excuse.Yet,if I'm honest with myself,I do have the time.Come on,I read and write this much.Who would believe me if I said I had no time? So,the issue is this: I know what to do.I know how to go about doing it.I have a wonderful plan chalked out fo

I see you one day Just like that, on my doorstep I hear you telling me I just felt like visiting Your arms are laden with sweets and savories Gifts for everyone although there's no occasion Eyes that twinkle with laughter A face that's always serenely radiant Then I wake up and realize This is just another cruel dream You're no more there Gone somewhere far beyond my reach My heart breaks all over again My eyes brim with unshed tears I recall those last months Pain, agony,immeasurable suffering What did you ever do to deserve any of it? I don't even know how to mourn you;I'm still in denial Your name keeps tumbling out of my mouth And a second later I feel the impact Right before I sleep, and sometimes right after I wake up This is what my mind brings up The realization shocks me, I fathom not why Grief and a feeling of emptiness follow through in rapid succession I distract myself from these emotions I don't know how to deal with

Flavor is to a writer what fingerprints are to the rest of humanity.It sets them apart from everyone who strings words together to some end.I've read quite a few authors.Some are gifted.They have a style so wonderfully unique that I can read a single sentence of theirs and use it to recognize them without any doubt whatsoever.These people have been my inspiration and I have always aspired to write that way.I had some time on my hands today and I did what I promised to never do--read what I've previously written.Now, I feel miserable.I feel like disowning all that I've written till date:|  It all comes across as generic run-of-the-mill writing.Zero flavor and very drab. I concede that I have nothing to say about the world that hasn't already been said.All I can do is to say it differently. I lament that I can't even do justice to that.  My second woe is that I can't attain isolation between my writing and myself.This is solely restricted to my blog.(I have wr

A few years ago,when Whatsapp first made its way into the app market,I regarded it with the same suspicion and pessimism that I reserve for social media platforms.I did install it,albeit on a number that barely a dozen people in the world had.The possibility of being added to any massive group--those typical class groups-- scared the hell out of me.It was almost as intimidating as going to huge social gatherings:P Therefore,I spent the major part of my undergraduate life as a freak who was not on Whatsapp.Eventually,it became the most convenient and dominant channel of information.Therefore,I was forced to start using it.I did so very reluctantly in the beginning.I used to be the silent eccentric who always used to read messages on groups but never reply except when it was direly necessary.It took a few months before I let my guard down and actually started texting people.It was then that I discovered that I am a texter:D I can text for hours on end.And somehow,it brings out