“I like two ponytails when I am home”. “Because, you want to feel like a kid when you’re home”, didi tells me.
“Oh I love this track, let me play this.”, “Oh, I love this one too”.
Dim lights are turned on, great music playing in the backdrop, and cluelessly hitting my steps on the floor, like I don’t even know what graceful dancing is. I have my sister as a great company, we both being home alone.
There is something that I want to express but dancing is not it. Something wants to come out of me when I am in a good mood. Maybe deep down in my heart I was contemplating my thoughts with the intellectual conversation I had with my sister while we went out for a long walk, as always. Just to brief, we usually end up discussing how the omnipresent power lands us in the present and has already planned out everything for us perfectly. This time, the topic was “The Art”. The Art of expression.
How Art, Music, Dance is the key to rejuvenate your inner soul. It is the form that drives you to create ultimate satisfaction. Something, you crave for within. For didi, it’s painting. art. mystifying colours. Be it as Black as Charcoal, or as bright as fluorescent shades. For me? It’s something I have discovered in the past year. It’s so strange and feels so exotic that something uncalled, unexpected yet truly mesmerising happens to you
and the best part is, no matter how aware or conscious you are of your mind, heart or your acts, it just happens to you magically.
For me, is Writing, ultimately. Never had I thought that it would be something I cannot live with. I just began with writing as penning down my day-to-day activities, strictly sticking to the occasions that made me sad.
When my dad scolded me, or I acted silly in front of someone, or even when I broke the breakables of my house (which I still continue to do frequently). I remember when I was seven, every other day I had a pile of papers in my hand
and wrote something that emotionally touched my heart. I wrote, expressed, I forgot. And after three days, I had another journal in my hand. Diaries always attracted me. And in the end, I always concluded, it was such a waste of
time for me to have the 10th journal in my hand, spoil it with my few groaning words and then doing nothing with it after all. As I grew older, I made it a habit. I don’t know how, but it just happened. I still have the journal that I continued to use, happily, for 8 years of my life. I wrote occasionally. I even celebrated New years, my pet’s birthday or the glorious day when India won its World Cup after 28 years in 2011. To my surprise, I began writing more frequently.
I was being pulled towards journaling more often. I also recall, when I was 17, I came home after a long hard day of school. I was clearly tired. Yet, some emotion or energy drove me towards Laika, my pug. I got my journal, painted her feet in green and got her paw prints. Oh, I miss her. A few days later she left us.
Noooo. She hasn’t been led in the direction of god up above, but she was gifted to my uncle’s son. Lucky, that kid.
Well, I always knew that I am passionate about art. As I mentioned above, I always had in my mind that I am a painter. I like to splitter splatter colours on a white clear neat sheet and bring something beautiful out of it. It would be a masterpiece for me, even if it is a piece of crap for the world. Also, meditation then helped me to discover one peculiar fact that I always ignored whenever I even got a glimpse of it. And it is, I never was motivated to create a masterpiece. Many a time I had to convince myself to sit with colours and canvas. I did question myself for once, “Do I even love painting or sketching?” But I ended up convincing myself “Yes, I love to express myself and all I tried was painting as a form of art since the start.”
You see, I was unthoughtful of what my real passion is. Thanks to meditation. I found an answer to something that will give me lifelong of contentment and be my life partner ultimately. That I will carry within
Also, three cheers to my sister who was the protagonist of “Discovering my writing” journey for me. She was the one who grabbed my hand amidst a lot of confusion and cloudy thoughts and cleared my path so that I could realise my potential and love for writing. Thank you didi.
Writing, expressing myself has been into me since my childhood and I never had any idea there will be a day when I will breathe words, I will think words, I will contemplate words, and I will live words.
Words drive me
Words make me survive
Words are meditation for me
Words are divinity for me
Words are my heart and soul
And that is how I have words to make you believe in magic.
Magic that life creates
Magic that commemorates
Magic that helps you to recreate,
Last, but not the least,
I thank all the readers who made it up to the ending point of this blog and have also read my other blogs.