Why do I have the urge to write?

Being a journalist by profession, writing possibly is the last thing, I want to do during my leisure. For my friends, who are in fields, where in they look up writing as a God-send gift, it might be difficult to understand why I do not update my blog more regularly. For me, writing, or being immersed in the world of words leading to sentences the concept of pleasure writing is kinda foreign.
On an average day, I key in not less than 1,000 words into myriad news item. They have a structure, a format and I try to make them as sensible as the sketchy bits of information makes to me. My aim is to make my reader understand why, the piece of information excites me should excite him also. I do not know if I am successful in my en devour, but thanks to MS word, the work gets done. So, slap, dash and the thing is ready to go through the long gamulet of process before it hits (or does not) the reader next day. As simple as making a cup of coffee.
Now, to come to the part, which baffles me often. If I write everyday, during work, why do I have this semblance of a blog. The answer for me, is not that simple. Writing for the cathartic effect, does not help me much, given I do write a lot. Writing as an exercise to hone my skills, to be use to jogg my brain to help it move, is also not that effective given the fact that I try to change my style of writing with every news item I write.
For me, the reason is simple. This blog makes me feel a bit more human than I normally would feel so. This blog helps me in get in touch with some of the emotions, which I think whimper and die out within me. Those emotions can hardly to quantified, they are just waves which rises, peaks and falls back never to return again.  Understanding them is not that easy, so I write to let them free in this blog. At times, my brain stops functioning and I let my fingers go on, guided by some thing, which takes possession of my body. The result is not that simple or nice. At times such outpourings make sense, but more likely than not it is a cacophony which is more noise than music. Things happen, you see, they reflect the state that gets the precedence.
If, the ordered mind takes the upper hand, then the outpourings make sense, but if it is confusion you see, then it is confusion which reigns supreme.
Are these emotions that important? I am not sure, I just observe them and more often than not, they try to play their role in the mischief called life. Anyways, I wish them the best and yeah, I will continue to write whether I make sense or not :) 

Death lurking behind our shoulders

The time between birth and death, to me seems insignificant and sallow. Filled with remorse, and pit falls, life does not make much sense, when it is supposed to end and without any trace of it afterward. Life means entanglement, we wile away the time we have between birth and death, in creating obstacles for ourselves and others.
From birth till the last breath, I think life is a grand delusion and we go out of our way to keep the delusion alive. We bond with people, listen to them, listen to our heart and try to hoodwink death. Death happens all around, yet most of the time, we ignore it or try to tell that it is something which happens to some one else.
It was the death of a neighbour, which got me to realise the futility of life and transient of life at the same go. The lady in question, whose husband left her, to me resembled a house whose foundation was shaken leaving its rafters. A house whose foundation is shaken might retain its superstructure, yet a slight wind will bring it down like a house of card. She looked at me with eyes, whose lights I think was gone for ever.
The death customs I have noticed talks of continuity of life and the soothing presence of the thought of eternal life. I wonder who are these customs to help, the living or the dead? The lady, who to me was always a woman of mirth and laughter, post the death of the husband was an empty cage, whose soul just flew away from it.
With death being certain, why we human beings love life so much? With death breathing down our shoulders most of the time, why do we indeed want to live all the time? Why are we so fond of life, when it is to end one day? What is the cause of this life to continue, this hope to continue to remain strong instead of resigning ourselves to death?
Suppose, for a second that we give up the desire to live. What would happen to the whole game of life? Suppose the created world gives up its desire to live stops fomenting bonds with things, stops getting new life into the earth, will this cruel joke of life end? Death, I think is a way of Nature to make sure her play continues, yet men do not understand that. We must think a way must be found, to make death more tangible   and life less attractive.

Being lonely in the crowd

Some unknown note of music makes things so difficult all of a sudden. It floats down the air, enters your heart and wrecks your soul before disappearing into oblivion. There might not be anything special in those notes, but for those of you, who have experienced it, certainly, this experience of being ravaged by music is something to die for. 

It happens, to me quite often, and every time, I feel the same joy, same glee that I had felt the first time, music had touched my soul. The first time, it happened I was unaware of the consequences, neither could I understand what had taken place. A simple song it was one of the not so famous numbers, punctuated with its share of rhythmic psychedelia sound and drum beats, characteristic of the fag end of the 70's. With its foot tapping groovy number, it must have been quite something to the flower children. 

The effect it had on me was quite strange. The tune started haunting me night and day, morn and even. As if it got imprinted in my heart and instead of the breath of life, it was that of the song, that was going around my nervous system. Strange to say, the song got me high- high to such an extent that I started seeing light in darkness and darkness in light. My vision it got peppered with a strange light and it was such a feeling. 

Slowly the magic of that high might go away but it really is a trip for me. 

Sunshine, dark clouds and silver linings

Winter mornings, can be deceptive. They hide within them seeds of joy, which are hard to find. Life , to me, has of late become a chess board with moves, which I cant fathom. Although, I know that it can be easy to handle, but I say, it has become hard of late to see what I can do.

Well, there you are, I go at it again. My fingers type things, which I do not know if I can understand. I want to see what they type, with my mind empty of any thoughts, I want to see where does they words leads me to. I have to understand why does my mind gets the better of me most of the time. I need to know why does the emotions do the things they do.

This blog was not supposed to be what it was. Why do I write when all I can do is write? Writting is something which I seriously do not understand. I know what I can do, I know what I can't do but yet my fingers make to do things, which I know I cant do.
Blame it on the sunshine, or blame it on me, but yes the silver lining is something I love to see. It is not hard to get, I just can feel it at times in my bones. With all the royal nonsense that I do, the silver lining is something I like to feel. Well lets see where the lining is now 

The Priestess's bow

Who do you seek ,Priestess whose life has left your body long? Why do you roam the earth long after your time is up? With your noiseless breath and beatless heart, your movement on this planet is like winter winds rustling the dead leaves off the trees.
Priestess once you were alive and had ruled the earth. Your bow, your arrows had the qualities to purify miasma, to heal the sick. You, with your magic touch had brought to life many souls, who were tormented in death. Yet priestess, no one came to your rescue when your soul was trapped in bottomless hell.

Your name still moves on the lips of men, who are scared to die. Your bow and arrow are still worshiped in the shrine where your tamed the elements. The jewel of souls was yours to keep, yet priestess, your soul no one could save.

Priestess, what has gone wrong with the world? Why has it forgotten you or the works that you had done? Why, priestess, have they forsaken your care, when you cared for it so ? Why priestess have the elements conquered you when you were weak?

With eyes as calm as the clear winter sky, the Priestess looked at me. Her soul-less eyes just got cold at the thought of the answers which resonnated in the heartless bosom on her. She looked at me with no emotions, the black of her eyes shining bright. But, her answers did not come quickly, although she kept looking at me.
Her long hair rustled by the wind, her pale skin glistening at the winter sunshing, and her long dress quivering at the cold. She stood quite looking at me. Slowly she disappeared with the elements, leaving me standing at the spot where the priestess ruled 

Blank walls, silence of the soul

At times, blankness takes over my soul and all I can do is for it to get over with. Streams of thoughts, they just die out and the spark of life goes off without a trace. Blankness, combined with its sister - numbness can surely be a blessing, for the mind, which is throttling to go. Unfortunately, blankness is not easy to achieve and once it has entered your life, you do not want to give it up.

How do you define blankness? It is the state, when your mind becomes inactive and stops thinking for itself. It goes on something akin to an automatic pilot and then the events flashes past your mind like leaves on a windy day.
It is a blessed feeling, you know because you are not tossed and turned in the various things, of life It calms you down, it just makes you go numb for some time. If you are tired physcially, the mind might not be. It might just be a sleeping monster which is ready to raise it head till it can't go on. Blankness has its own taste. It tastes of honey, it takes of sandal and its fragnance is that of love.
It does not make much sense, this concept of blankness, to those who have not experienced it. But to those , who have gone through it, it makes you alive for all the more reasons. 

Eclipse of love

Once again, I want to talk to you, but I know I will never be able to. Once again I wish to see you smile to feel you near me yet I do not know what to do. What I had for you was eclipsed by the darkness in my heart, which had taken hold of me. You, know I am not sure why after so many days, have I started thinking about you. Why do I have this great urge to see you, to see you smile, when there was a time you gave all that you had to come close to me and I ran away?

What were the things that made me run away from you? To be certain when I think in the hindsight, I can't find any concrete reason. Was I uncertain about your affections towards me? No when I think of it now, I guess I was a tad bit uncomfortable of your warmth. The fool that I am, instead of being comforted, I got scared and left you.

You, know I too was like you once. I was full of love, wanted the person, with all my life yet I did not understand that the expression of interest must have been annoying to the beloved. My beloved then must have felt the aversion which I had gone through, when you came to surrender all yours to me.
To be honest I was scared that I would freaking loose the belief I had of freedom. It is tough to acknowledge love, and inspite of my brave words I was not able to do so.
It has to be love, or something, very similar to it, else why would my heart yearn to see you again? Why do you come to my mind, when ever I pass through the place where you stayed? I know this would hurt you, but I have to confess, my heart skips a beat when I pass through those roads, which you frequented.
I remember the night when I had kissed you first, by the river. I remember the nights when I first made love to you., But alas I forgot how to take down my guards. That I belief was responsible for me not to be in love,. I wish you were not so nice, I wish I was not such a big fool. I wish things would have been different with me being less neurotic, but I know it is too late and I have lost love, which you had given unconditionally to me.