It’s the mid of June.
The monsoons should have been here by now.
As my skin bears the brunt of the sun, I gasp for breath.
On certain occasions, I’ve tried experimenting during
nights.
I tried keeping the windows of my bedroom open to the skies.
All the experiments seem to have failed miserably.
I haven’t given up yet. I am planning to experiment again.
This time, I am going to extract the umbrella from my bag
and deliberately leave it unattended at home.
Are the monsoons also capable of assuring peace? Or can they
postpone the insurgencies, we are faced with recently?
Darjeeling is burning. Kashmir is mourning. Our hearts are bleeding.
We are in need of an experiment again. Will monsoon be that
experiment? If it turns out to be successful, we will have our own Ooh la la
moment. If the experiment fails, we will still celebrate because that is where
I sense the beginning of a story.
Thus the title, which is also a question - WHERE DO THE
STORIES BEGIN FROM?
Each one of us has a story. We are humans, we are stories.
When we set out to trace the beginning of our stories, we are confronted with a
mother’s womb. It’s in there, our mothers proclaim. They add, “It is in here,
in the womb, where the stories begin from?”
To disagree on this account is definitely human.
Just last week, I had least expected an angle from where my
story began.
Take for instance the title - Biryani is an emotion.
I was blown over by the title. As I kept appreciating the
line and its beautiful layout, I could also sense the beginning of stories.
The line, the title of Biryani is an emotion is bravely
finds a mention in a cute little diary which was gifted over to me by my Cyan
Buddy.
She was a little reluctant to gift me the diary. She
mentioned, it was supposed to be my farewell gift (now that’s a different story
to begin with). But somehow, the delivery got delayed. She had to reverse the
decision and present it to me as my welcome gift (this would be the sequel to
the different story, which I might begin with later).
A mere gift, a short pocket diary that it is could have
evolved into nothing new until I decided to turn the diary into a chronicler.
This diary will hold stories of my food expeditions. Every time, I end up
loving a certain cuisine or am simply left speechless by a moment, which involves
food, I will write about it in the diary. In the same diary, which carries that
lovely title of – Biryani is an emotion.
I think I have found a story to begin with. The beginning
would materialize when I start flaunting the diary and the little pieces of
delicious surprises; I wish to write within!
But this is one part of the many stories, which begin from
nowhere and find their way somewhere.
Imaginations form the other part about these stories, which also
fuel their evolution. The choice rests with the storyteller; either to narrate
them in a fictional format or try to fit them in that long beaten genre of nonfiction.
How do these imaginations start taking the shape of a story?
I don’t think there would be a definitive reply to that.
For me, my imaginations could run wild and keep fluctuating
between the mole, the nose ring and a tattoo somewhere. But how much time will
they take to translate into stories! Only time will tell. At least I can rest
assured that my story can be expected of having a beginning.
As I grow a word closer to conclude this blog post, I can
hear that distinct sound of raindrops.
Seated by the partly open window, I can see the earth relish
the momentary magic of rains.
Only I wish, the showers could have lasted longer. But
nature has some other plans.
Till the time those plans materialize, I am happy to realize
– my story has found a beginning. If your stories haven’t found one yet, ask
yourself the same question, “Where do the stories begin from?”
-Virtuous Vociferous
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