Hanging until the next push

I thought all these days, that I wouldn't hit it, but seems, I am slowly, gradually coming close to a writer's block again.

I wish there were levels or categories of a writer's block. I have unfathomable thoughts which i want to pen down, but a mere human that I am, I am weighed down by a lot of limitations and weaknesses. I wish I could be a little less lazier.

There was a time when fictions would unfold like curtains on a stage and the play would begin, with characters speaking out loud, making a way to the audience's heart.

There was a time, when the scroll of the keyboard would signify the turning of pages, eager and intrigued. The story would be dependent on the readers such that it takes the path the readers would never think it would. Unlikely. Surprising and interesting. Both.

It was a great time, when I would be able to write chapter after chapter, living my life in parallel with my characters. My passion it would be to bring to life something which isn't.

I want to confess, that I feel like being regularly regular at blogging - my only passion. But I wish I had no other interests.

To speak about other interests and what keeps me so occupied - I'd say, it is some amazing books written by a few very intelligent Indian Authors.

I am currently reading Palace Of Illusions by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni. I would want to write a review too, once I am done reading.

But I realise how awesome it is to stay glued to something so interesting and giving up your priorities entirely :P

I wonder at the power of the writer, the way she has successfully managed to keep me engaged in her writing, making me forget mine!

I hope I end up learning from this one experience too. Because, reading is nothing but an experience!

Promising to come back with more to read on The Obscure Optimist, I take a break. A little break, before I start afresh! :)

The Silent Saturday today, apparently made a lot of noise! :)

Happy blogging!:)

The Writer and the Muse

What a pleasure it is. To be written about. Have a story woven around you. You as the protagonist. You are the inspiring factor for a series of events, leading to a fiction. An idea behind a thoughtful Thursday. A muse behind a Wednesday when words are pictures. A Monday when you are the object of an ode. What a divine feeling of euphoria it is, to find a place in a Tangy Tuesday Gossip. To make people think, talk about you, to the extent that they end up writing about you.

It's a game of psychology. A sheer mind game. Where you rule, and the writer is swayed so easily, that he/she ends up writing about you.

What a pleasure it is. Sometimes, sadistic too. When you induce pain, to get a reaction, which indirectly is written as a post. A series of plots, being created to form a labyrinth which is so intriguing that you keep going into it, knowing the fact that there wouldn't be a way out.You'd like it immensely, when you are the reason for a sad disposition, more than being a reason for happiness.

I think, when one's mind is weaving negative thoughts, the creativity is at it's peak. I feel the dark side of a human being is more creative. Just like an abstract painting is more appealing than the one with clear, well-defined features.

You wish to have no definition. You wish to know nothing about yourself, while being written about. You want to be a constant process. A process of discovery, unraveling the most intense and profound aspects of your being. You want to be written about such that, you are remembered for the similarities your character draws with the reader.

The writer portrays you so well, like you both were one person. One soul. One mind. One heart. You like reading, when your nuances, hidden secrets are exposed, out in the light. You may feel a something piercing your heart. The tiny tinge of pain slowly creating a ripple and making you laugh at the idiosyncrasies of your human existence. Sheer human.

A gratification indeed it is, to be written about. You like it when I write about you. I like it ,when I am written about. Pleasure. Intense, inexplicable pleasure.

Togetherness

©Yamini

  The world is a puzzle and we're two pieces that fit perfectly together.

C'est la vie

A few reasons to laugh... 

1.  Maloo's mail: Aaj subah meine socha mein kanda poha banaungi…

poha banaya….Taste karte waqt mujhe laga kuch ajeeb sa taste hai…

Then thodi aur der pakne diya..

Then I tasted again… phir mujhe yaad aaya.. meine toh usmein kanda hi nahi dala…!!!!!

Batao… aaisa bhi hota hai

Yamini: LMAO :D :D

***

2. Nandita: Yamini Shaadi kar le

    Yamini : uske baad kya?

    Nandita: Baad ka batati hu..Pehle shaadi toh kar!

    Yamini: LOL

***

3. Pooja: Kya kar rahi hai?

    Yamini: Chassis Controller ke Analog Inputs ke Requirements Analyse Kar rahi hu..

    Pooja: Pagal hai kya? Abhi Baarish me nahi karte!

    Yamini: ROFLMAO

***

4. Puntoo: Chalo Picture Antakshari Khelte

    Yamini: Tu shuru Kar

    Puntoo: Ghajini

    Sahadevan: Mujhe laga Picture Antakshari me Images Rahenge

    Yamini: LOL...

    Maloo: isiliye we got married

    Yamini: ROFL

***

5. Remembering my daddu:

    My uncle used to tell my grandfather to go for evening walks in the Garden, he'd feel nice and fresh, and Daddu used to say: "Main waha nahi jaata. Waha sab Budhhe log aate hai" (He was 90+ when he would make this statement)

Yesterday, my uncle had a new neighbour, aged 70, who came and asked my uncle if they could go for morning walks together, and he nodded reluctantly, but later said, "Wo buddhe ke saath main nahi jaane wala walk pe"

I remembered my grandfather and LMAOed off.. :D

Like uncle, like nephew! :)

Ji haan.. Aisa bhi hota hai! :D

Black is Beautiful

My Friend asked me to write something on "Black is indeed beautiful".. I thought and thought and came up with this. :)

Black is the background

Where dreams are woven

Black is the blanket where

Stars appears bright

Black is the board

Where theorems are proven

Black is mixture

Of all the lights

Black is the color

Of a powerful signature

Black is a shade of hate,

mightier than love

Black is color of

the eyes of the future

Black is the conviction

that hovers above

Black is the color

of the graduation cap

Black is the robe

of a lawyer so dutiful

All colors easily mix

In Black’s lap

Black may be dark

But, it is beautiful

Tumhi ho bandhu

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I5r5d6AdYTk

Yaara tere sadke ishq sikha main toh
Aayi jug taj ke ishq sikha
Jab yaar kare parwah meri
Mujhe kya parwah iss duniya ki
Jug mujhpe lagaaye pabandi
Main hoon hi nahi iss duniya ki

Tumhi din chadhe, Tumhi din dhale
Tumhi ho bandhu, sakha tumhi
Tumhi din chadhe, Tumhi din dhale
Tumhi ho bandhu, sakha tumhi
Every time every minute all the day
Tumhi ho bandhu, sakha tumhi

Dil ki takhti par hoon likhti
Ishqaa.. ishqaan
Jug kya jaane dil ko mere
Ishqaa.. kiska

Lag yaar gale le saar meri
Mujhe kya parwah iss duniya ki
Tu jeet meri, jug haar meri
Main hoon hi nahi iss duniya ki

Tumhi din chadhe, Tumhi din dhale
Tumhi ho bandhu, sakha tumhi
Tumhi din chadhe, Tumhi din dhale
Tumhi ho bandhu, sakha tumhi
Every time every minute all the day
Tumhi ho bandhu, sakha tumhi

 

PS: I am currently stuck on this song!! :) Love it!

Silently, the leaves fall

So, it isn't really autumn. Some leaves, of some random trees fall. They shed themselves, because it is necessary. 

And in the due process there is a whole process of going back to the origin and begin again.

Today for me, it's the same process happening.

The thought for this Silent Saturday is

Home is the place where, when you have to go there,
They have to take you in.