Some hours are deliberately or nonchalantly
spent in writing shit; in the name of being a professional and for the sake of
a designation, which sticks to your ass like a long lasting ailment. You try
your level best to get rid of it and yet it stays stuck there, to your ass, not
wanting to be healed and treated. So what do you do then? Die of pain or churn
a way out!
When there is nothing else to be
passionate about; but writing, writing and more writing every second, every
minute, every hour, every single day and every moment of our lives; we need to
think of something that liberates us. We need to liberate ourselves from being
repeatedly insulted by rotten mindsets and stinking demands by those who don’t have
any inkling about writing.
I, for instance, having migrated
to a new place to seek solace in the richness of writing had already started feeling
stuck. The people, I’ve been communicating with on an everyday basis, for the
last few months, were conspicuous in their approach towards ‘just another’
creative writer. One of them from the top management also had the audacity of
asking me or rather warning me against throwing tantrums. After a decade old
journey of writing, I haven’t come across myself as a tantrum throwing weirdo.
Still, I gathered my thoughts and decided to mend some things around me. But I
kept missing out on one thing and that was freedom of writing.
Rendered breathless and hopeless,
I had stopped reading books, stopped observing things around me and had almost
stopped giving up. Then a message arrived on the WhatsApp Messenger, which
read, “I want to write, will you help me with how do I start?” Not in the best
of my mood, initially I had decided to simply ignore it. But then there was
something that was very interesting about this proposition. Here was a soul, a
soul still not brazen by all the bullshit of an otherwise uncreative life, who
was eagerly sharing a desire to want to write. I kept aside my iPhone and then
revisited the message.
First and foremost, writing,
especially independent or creative cannot be straightly taught to anyone. But
yes, there is no harm in helping someone to improve upon his or her writing
skills. Therefore I gave my consent and thus began the process. The first step
itself was effortless, so effortless that all it needed were two mobile phones
and a WhatsApp messenger to unify and initiate it. Neither did the need arise
to meet in person and begin writing nor was there a language barrier to stop us
from starting, what I now term as a writing revolution of sorts.
We zeroed in on a topic, which
had two characters; a man in his mid thirties and a woman in her mid forties. Two
stories were born in a short span of time; both written independently without
letting out a word about the central theme. The stories were absolutely
different in their treatment and in their telling. Secondly we followed no
rules while writing them. None of us spoke about the grammar or how precise, we
should be about the date, time and day of the events, which take place in the
story. The only norm, we followed was to write it as a first person account.
The two stories, which emerged
from this revolution of two minds, threw open a new avenue of not a mere
collaboration but also the formation of an entity. An entity, we ‘now’ as
partners in crime are in no mood to reveal. I know the word ‘crime’ doesn’t
suit us. But still there is lot of crime involved because we are going to spill
loads of ink.
Here am I raising a toast to the
new beginning of writing unabridged.
-vociferous
