The Silent Pen

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 I used to find solace in writing and my days weren't complete without pouring my heart out on paper. How am I not writing anything for last 2 years and have literally forgotten the little i knew!

The more I  think about it the firmer my thoughts become about pain being my source of motivation to write. As if I was getting emotional support by writing and getting things out of my system somehow. 

For past 2 years I found an ear to my thoughts and the need of a paper was reduced. Whatever i observed,  whatever i thought could be shared and my desire to find a witness to my thoughts was fulfilled. I was merely seeking a witness in the form of a paper.

Still I was feeling some sort of emptiness since I  was so habitual to writing ( as if I'm doing some sin by not writing). I was losing the touch of it and my vocabulary was fading away.  Then why am I writing today. Alas! I wish I would've known any other reason except insomnia. Sleep eludes me and suddenly I start feeling numb. 

"Kaash tum hoti toh aisa hota,

tum hoti toh waisa hota...

​Tum is baat pe hairan hoti, tum us baat pe kitni hansti...

Tum hoti toh aisa hota, tum hoti toh waisa hota..."

 

These words remind me that writing is more than just a venting mechanism for pain for me. It is a bridge.  When there is a gap between our reality and our desires—the bridge of language is the only way across.


P.S - Failed attempt to make any sense to this blog .. Sigh !!

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