"Why do you write?""For chocolates! As per an agreement, for every post I write, I earn a chocolate."
"Wao, that's amazing. I have heard people getting paid for blogs. First time I am hearing some one earning chocolates through blog posts."
I knew my interviewer was not convinced by my answer, thought I was just kidding. Even I was not sure what was it that made me write for. Perhaps there was no specific reason, when I started writing. But now there's one...
"Can you promise something?"
"What’s that ?"
"Can you promise that you will always be happy, what ever you are doing, where ever you are?"
"I can't assure. But I’ll try my best."
"No, trying best will not do. You have to promise that you will. You are a writer. You have strong imagination. You can do anything if you want. Just imagine yourself to be happy. You will."
Yes, you are true. I can do anything and everything I wish.
I open my eyes in the morning to be wakened by the chirruping of the sparrows...my imaginations inspire me to think all these musical noises are just to wake me up...in the animated world of my imaginations, the family of squirrels near Vinod's tea stall inquires me about their new gears...I assure them, they look stunning...I can feel the sun getting tired of the day's journey and taking refuge in the bosom of the river, to gather energy for the next day's journey...I can find patches of silence, standing at the crowded South-Ex market after the sunset...I can hear the silences of the room screaming at half past mid night...I can listen to the music in the falling leaves and be amazed by the rain drops lashing my face, dew drops turning into diamonds to sprinkle the morning sun rays...
Then why not be happy?
"Wao, that's amazing. I have heard people getting paid for blogs. First time I am hearing some one earning chocolates through blog posts."
I knew my interviewer was not convinced by my answer, thought I was just kidding. Even I was not sure what was it that made me write for. Perhaps there was no specific reason, when I started writing. But now there's one...
"Can you promise something?"
"What’s that ?"
"Can you promise that you will always be happy, what ever you are doing, where ever you are?"
"I can't assure. But I’ll try my best."
"No, trying best will not do. You have to promise that you will. You are a writer. You have strong imagination. You can do anything if you want. Just imagine yourself to be happy. You will."
Yes, you are true. I can do anything and everything I wish.I open my eyes in the morning to be wakened by the chirruping of the sparrows...my imaginations inspire me to think all these musical noises are just to wake me up...in the animated world of my imaginations, the family of squirrels near Vinod's tea stall inquires me about their new gears...I assure them, they look stunning...I can feel the sun getting tired of the day's journey and taking refuge in the bosom of the river, to gather energy for the next day's journey...I can find patches of silence, standing at the crowded South-Ex market after the sunset...I can hear the silences of the room screaming at half past mid night...I can listen to the music in the falling leaves and be amazed by the rain drops lashing my face, dew drops turning into diamonds to sprinkle the morning sun rays...
Then why not be happy?
"Dust is a funny thing. It's everywhere all at once, like a teeny, tiny snowstorm, in every ray of light. Even the moon is just a big dust ball. But you know, it's all in the way you look at it. Not this way or that way, not forways or backways. Just believe before you look. The man in the moon has a magic all his own."
"And one more promise!"
"What's that agian?"
"You will never stop writing. For every post you write, you will earn a chocolate from me."
She exploits each and every chance she gets to pester me to write, "Write something new, something light, something happy happy type".
When that does not work, there comes the reminder of the promise of chocolates attached with a warning,"you are taking too long a break". Alarmed, I brush up the components of my imagination drive; force them out from the inertia, the inertia of rest, to spawn some ideas that slowly take the form of a post. Some time they make sense...some times even I find it difficult what all that I wrote mean...but I feel happyI wait for the next idea to strike some chord in my mind...
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Yummy