Anamika: One day I will..A writer's journal

Anamika: One day I will..A writer's journal

One day I will..A writer's journal

The day the dream descended upon me, I was unaware of it. but my heart, my only staunch comrade realized it's presence and confronted the destiny that I was to walk upon....created a image....which will be transformed into reality....one day in the future..


Paulo Coelho's "The Alchemist"....I was reading this book when I finally realizes that I don't have a dream. A dream that I can pursue like the shepherd boy in the book who travels from Spain to Egypt, only to realize that the treasure he was looking for was in the place where he have been sleeping all this time with his sheep, as he traveled around in the outskirts of Spain....Yes, that was the day when I realized I was aimless...


Aimlessness is depressing and disgusting. That's what I concluded when I realized my plight. Without an aim, I was feeling empty. I still  feel like an empty shell...Because I have nothing to fight for; absolutely nothing.I HAVE NOTHING TO HOLD ON TO....NO ROPE TO CLIMB, NO BEGINNING TO ADVENT....Seems like even before I began, I died. I died 'cause I have no dreams; no one particular dream to follow and in the end when I achieve it, to live through the joys of success....But I was to be excluded from all these. Because I don't have any aims or any dream to follow. How can I let myself be so insignificant and not utilize the life- as beautiful as the blue ocean that God gave me?????? How could I do this injustice????? No, I would not let that happen??? Never!!! I must have a dream to pursue...I must...!!!!!!!!


I pondered. I wondered alone. I let nights pass. I let mornings come but yet my soul felt devoid and empty. This emptiness was suffocating. It was enclosing me into the hours of frustration; crippling my reasons to live further. It was me inside and out and causing "Hope" to abandon me. Oh yes, there were days when I thought that the light of hope has blown away and only darkness now filled my soul. A human being cannot survive without hope; the darkness, the emptiness-they were all driving me insane. I hated it-this feeling of aimlessness. I tried to runaway; to hide somewhere. I wanted to be emancipated, I don't want to be a slave to this empty-feeling but what could I do?????? No inherent dream descended upon my soul to light up the candle of hope and break up the darkness. Nothing was there and soon a time came, when this emptiness proselytized to a fear-a fear of being a nobody. And this fear was clouding my thoughts....

It was a normal day...A day like any other but it was the day when God finally bestowed his clemency upon me and emancipated me from this feeling. I don't know when it happened or how but something happened, that made me realize my potent, albeit Paulo Coelho would say it was the light that I discovered within me. Whatever they mat say, but at least I have an aim now....Something to look forward to, something for which to give all my heart and soul and my sweat too. Because you have to work hard for turning your dreams into reality...YES! I said to myself.....I have a dream now.....

I remember that old writer in "The Ink-heart" movie telling that li'l girl who wanted to be a writer, that "A writer's life is a lonely life, my child." However, the girl was determined that she wanted to be a writer, because writing was her life....Oh, and wait, what about Josephine March of "Little Women" by Louisa M. Alcott? Writing was her passion too and yes, ultimately she became a writer too. This also reminds me of Amelia Thermopolis from the "Princess Diaries" series by Meg Cabot. Oh, well her dream was to be a writer too but over all I must mention Paulo Coelho, the Brazilian writer who, in his childhood was sent to a mental hospital by his parents because in their days, "writing was thought to be a mental sickness!!!".......Now, that was really heart-rending.... No one would ever want to be considered psychologically disordered because one just had a flow for writing. No one...!!!!


I discovered my hand at writing when I was in Class 7 but it was my hand at writing Poetry. I still couldn't perfect my Essay writing hand but my English teacher in class 10 did it for me....Even before I could grasp what was happening to me, I discovered that I could write well but I still think I have a lot to learn....And learn I will because I have a dream to complete, a novel to finish.....But first I must learn to be patient to play with words in a perfect way or else I can never be able to fight for my dream. Because then, I am armor-less and no, I wouldn't want to join the battlefield without my perfect weapons and my training...


The battle will be long and tough. I might have to die a thousand times and fall on the ground a million times......I might be even on the bring of surrendering but I must stay strong and carry on till the end. I must, I should and I will...I just need the patience, strong will-power and hope to fight till the end. I want to taste the feeling of winning just as the shepherd boy did when he finally found the treasure. And I must learn and accept lessons, the knowledge that life thrusts upon me as I make my dream...and I will.... reach the end...come out as glorious....one day I will.

NOT ANYMORE

There was a time when we all used to get wet in the rain,
When we all sang with croaked voices and acted insane.
There was a time when we laughed at every little thing,
When we were all inane and carefree.
When we all gathered in the school canteen everyday,
When we all dreamt of a new world, a new day.

But I don't get wet in the rain anymore,
I don't laugh myself silly anymore.
I don't act crazy and see you all everyday,
I can't act carefree like I used to do in those days.
No, I don't do those things anymore,
No, Not anymore....

Years have passed by and now we're on our seperate paths,
We've grown up into responsible adults,
Carrying responsibiliteies on those shoulders which once carried heavy school bags.
We meet once in a while but we don't see the whole pack.
We don't sing together, we don't act silly,
Cuz we're all in the present, which is the future we once used to dream...


It's funny how we never thought of this distant changes,
How we forgot that we might not all be together in our future days.
We wll have changed in our wisdom and in our appearance,
But our school memories will alwayas be the same,
They will never ever change....

A Walk In The Rain

Drip by Drip the rain falls,
And I wonder if I should give you a call.
But before I do that the Lightening distracts me,
Making me lose myself in all this eternity....
And I think about you, me and our love,
Which might seem a bit inane to the whole wide world....

If only I knew how it felt to walk in the rain by the railway tracks,
With you holding my hands...
If only I knew how it felt to watch the twinkling stars in the sky,
With you lying by my side.....
If only I knew how it felt to bathe in the moonlight,
With you by my side and making it the most beautiful scene of my life......

If only......

Maybe then I would have known what it felt to be complete,
Maybe then I would have known you and me,
Then I would have known what these feeling s mean,
And maybe then I would have found the love which would rule the world for eternity.....

No matter how much I try to runaway from these feelings,
They keep on coming back to me, haunting me....
Making me concede to myself that I love you,
And I would do anything for u and only you.......

You might call me crazy. you might call me inane,
But I want nothing else but a walk in the rain.
With you holding my hands and looking into my eyes,
And that's all I want in my whole damn life.......
Just a walk in the rain is all I want,
To know that with you I have truly, deeply, madly fallen in love.....

just a walk in the rain..........

Hate me

Just hate me will you, hate me because I hurt you.
Hate me because I made you cry, made you feel blue…
Hate me because I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most,
Hate me because I am the worst friend…I deserve to be alone….
Just hate me and I deserve to be hated, to be detested, to be avoided, to be…
Hate me my friend; scream out all the worst things about me to me.

I know and I accept it, the fact that I don’t deserve such a good friend like you…
I know and concede it, even though I don’t deserve you, I just can’t live without you.
I know I’m the reason why you shed so many tears,
But let me be the one to wipe them away and avow to make you smile for the next eternal years….
Tell me my fault; tell me where it hurts…
And give me a chance to heal your wounded heart.

Just don’t walk away without saying anything….
Just don’t avoid me like this; you know I’m hurting…
But yes I deserve it because I hurt you; I’m the reason behind your broken heart…
So just hate me, hate me for who I am,
Hate me, just hate me my dear friend…

PMAM SIR.....!!!!!! and his inspiration to me.........

It was a lazy Monday and we were reluctantly waiting for our new English Literature teacher, with whom it was going to be our first class.

   After waiting for five minutes, he entered our classroom and he was not at all discouraged to see seven sleepy students greeting him with a united soporific voice. Rather he was ebullient to confront such banal pupils. At first, this seemed esoteric to me but as days passed by, I discovered the reason.

   He was an amicable gentleman, short in stature. His grey hair fell on his shoulder and he was wearing a Nepali cap. His eyes were framed by huge square spectacles and at first sight, he reminded me of Einstein and later I came to know that he was also as talented as Einstein, only their fields were different. He was always smiling and the warmth of kindness was always hidden behind the twinkle in his eyes.

            It was his first class. He smiled at us and then wrote his name on the whiteboard- Professor Muhammad Abdul Mutalib, and below he wrote “PMAM”. Seeing our confounded faces, he explained with a benign smile that PMAM was the shortcut to his name and from then on we addressed him as our PMAM sir.

            As I was saying that it was the first class and so he began the first class by reciting a poem by Lord Byron- “I speak not, I trace not, and I breathe not thy name,

   There is grief in the sound; there were guilt in the fame;

    But the tear which now burns on my cheek may impart

    The deep thought that dwells in that silence of heart……”

            When he first recited the whole poem, Stanzas for Music, I didn’t imagine anything and all seemed pedestrian. I could feel the impotence of my imagination power. He looked at us with kind grey eyes and he fathomed that none of us were able to see what he was seeing in his imagination. So he suggested us to close our eyes and use our imagination to its full extent. He ordered us to listen to him with the ears of our heart and then he recited the poem again, slowly and fervently.

            This time his magic worked! I can’t say about the others but I was simply captivated by the images that magically conjured up inside my head and the spiritual feeling that filled up my soul. Now I could fathom and see Lord Byron’s thoughts, his words and everything felt heavenly.

            It was his first day and we were already under his spell! From that day on, we valued the Literature subject and to all of our own amazement, we started doing well in that subject. We were obfuscated about this quick improvement and PMAM sir explained it to us, the inspiration is the key to start working diligently and we can only start doing well in any subject if we fall in love with it. The only way to fall in love with that subject is to be inspired and not to be ever afraid of that subject.

            I implemented his theory on other subjects and believe me it worked! I was strong in Chemistry, Biology and Mathematics but very weak in English, Geography and History. Just as he said, I ordered myself to fall in love with these subjects and the improvement was dramatic. I started finding them easy and amazingly, I started getting very high marks in them.

            There was a time when no feelings aroused within me when I went through a poem. As a matter of fact, just a few years ago I was not this ardent poet which my friends call me now. It was PMAM sir’s inspiration which helped me unlock the inherent talent of mine and use it appropriately.

            However, inspiration is a matter of willpower and he said that to me ad infinitum. I was never good in Physics and now I know why. I could never fall in love with this subject, no matter how hard I try. Maybe there was no inspiration, or maybe I didn’t try it whole heartedly. Whatever the reason, I know that Physics is not my cup of tea.

            PMAM sir had a very significant impact on me. He changed my view of this world and my way of handling predicaments. He inspired me and his inspiration lead me to believe that we can make this world into a better place if we can inspire others to do good things. He inspired me to take risks, because life is full of risks so why not just take them. He taught me that life is a concoction of misery and joys; we just have to put some acts to balance it. He also taught me that, every man we meet is somehow superior to us and thus we learn something new from each man. Thus we gain knowledge as we walk on the path of our life.

               PMAM sir’s inspiration lead me to start “THE WRITER’S CLUB” in the school I joined for my A-levels but the saddest part was that he was not there to get involved with the club. He died on 17^th February, 2008, exactly five months before the club was inaugurated. I opened the club in his memory and I started doing what he did to me years ago. His inspiration theory! I perspired to inspire the young members and as the President, I tried to mould their keen minds into thinking something good. As a result, fecund thoughts and excellent write-ups came up which in turn inspired others, who believed that they don’t have the talent to write something good, to start writing and inspiring others. Thus in my one year stay with the club, I was able to unleash their intrinsic talents.

            I believe that for us, the impetuous human beings, creativity is the greatest gift and we must use it in the correct manner to create outstanding things without destroying the Mother Earth and her defenseless people.

            I am not that extraordinary student with excellent academic records, whom every good college searches for. I am an ordinary student with ordinary academic grades, who loves to make friends with every compatible person, who respects her teachers and who harbors a simple dream, a simple aim in her simple heart. Paulo Coelho once said that     “no heart has ever suffered when it goes in the search of its dream”. My dream is to become a teacher like my father, my maternal grand fathers and grandmothers. I want to be a teacher, who can inspire her students and help them to develop their innate talents, which they can use in order to make this world a better place.

            I want to pursue my higher studies in a science field and ultimately become a teacher of that subject, but that doesn’t mean I can’t inspire my students. Paulo Coelho said in “THE ALCHEMIST”, that “When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it”, and I believe that only this institution can help me to make my dream come true and be the person to my students that late PMAM sir was to me- THE INSPIRING MENTOR.

Childhood and life......

“Just like the deep blue ocean is my life,

I know that you can just see water all the time.

The reflected blue bed camouflages the inner beauty,

Hiding the colorful world full of equanimity.

Each wave brings in a new aspect of life.

Storms occur on the surface but underneath lies,

Enigmatic beauties, astounding secrets and esoteric concoction of discrete emotions.

The only way to fathom this life is to explore the deep floors of this beautiful ocean.”

 

                The sound of the loud thunder made me halt and abandon writing further. A shower of rain soon followed and so I got up to shut the windows. I was about to shut it when my wandering eyes fell on the huge verdant playground nearby. Through the window, I watched a beautiful scene which inundated my heart and made me nostalgic.

                A handful of teenage boys were playing soccer in the rain. They were teasing each other, laughing at their own mischief, splashing the muddy puddles and inanely singing nursery rhymes with croaked voices. Not far away from them, there was a group of giggling teenage girls wet from head to toe and they were dancing in the rain and singing that old beloved Vitamin C’s song, “As we go on we’ll remember all the times we had together, And that’s our last change from whatever, we will still be friends forever.”

                A group of kids surrounded them. The sound of their laughter reached my ears and teemed my heart with yearnings to go back to my childhood.

                Childhood is the inevitable phase which we all go through. For some, childhood holds bitter memories and for some, childhood is the most beautiful era of life. Childhood is the period that shapes our perspective of the world, of the life and makes us cognizant of our milieu. It teaches us to dream but not to stay riveted on the ground when our dreams shatter. This is the time when we meet new people, find compatible friends, and laugh at our own inane deeds, learn to define love, friendship and become acquainted with jealousy, sharing and caring. Childhood is the most significant part of us, albeit this is the first step of our life and the only step whose inception is innocent and beautiful.

                The scene outside the window is very significant to me. In the rush of our life, we always forget how it once felt to be callow, blight and to be an emancipated bird. Our career, our responsibilities and the news of wars and all the other unspeakable crimes proselytizes us into a cynical human being, making us assert that the world is no more beautiful and it has become devoid of love, innocence and friendship.

                That was what I had become till I witnessed this scene. The innocence of childhood, the rejuvenations of love, and the beauty of friendship-was all reflected there. It made me realize that after all we still have some hope for this world, whose unattended corners are eclipsed with wars and sorrows. Where families are torn apart, childhood is tainted with revenge, hatred and suspicion, where a whole nation is falling apart because the people are fighting each other.

                If we can only work a bit harder, then I’m sure we will be able to save many childhoods being rent apart from their beautiful innocence and replenish this earth with love, friendship, trust and peace. We can save the flickering flame of hope from being extinguished completely in the hearts of people and make them believe that life is still beautiful like the deep blue ocean.

 

               

               

Should we let the world know what we are feeling always???

I remember that it was a weekend morning when my cousin and I were sitting on the balcony, watching our milieu. We were discussing some political issues when she suddenly asked me, “Should we let the world always know about our feelings and emotions?”

Obfuscated by the change of topic, I sat there feeling stupid. When her question dawned upon me, I asked “Why ask this?” “Just felt like this”, she answered and returned to our initial topic.

That night, the question kept on spinning in my mind. I couldn’t rest till I found an answer to her question. So I started analyzing her idea.

What do we mean by “emotion” and “feeling”?

‘Feeling’ is the effect of a particular situation on the mind or senses of a human being. Apart from this, it also indicates ambience, idea or opinion. ‘Emotion’ is an outlandish concoction of strong feelings like love, jealousy, fear, joys, sorrows, anger.

So now, that we have a clear idea of each term, we must find the answer to the question. Should we let the world always know about our feelings or should we camouflage them, keeping them unrevealed? Before we venture further to find the answer, we must concede that feelings are spontaneous and our emotions are a part of who we are and what we are.

Every human does not always react the same way to a same situation. Each of us has a different belief, a different opinion about the same thing though some of our ideas or attitudes may be almost same. So, I ask again, should we express our ideas, opinions and emotions freely to the people around us? The answer depends on the situation.

Supposedly, someone you really hated all your life dies. You hate him and in the past, you publicly declared it. When he dies, would you disparage him in front of his mourning family?

Let’s look at the situation in two ways. Supposedly, you two were political rivals. What example would you set in front of your people, who cast their votes to you? They would obviously expect you to show some deference to your late rival but you abhorred him and still do. Would you speak out and face a future where not a single person would cast a vote for you? Or would you suppress your feelings, send condolence to the grieving family and welcome a future where everyone votes for you and wants you to be the protagonist?

Now, supposedly you two were childhood best friends and both of you were established in the same fields. Your friend dies suddenly and you would definitely feel grief for him. Would you not let the whole world know about your pains of losing your best friend? Or would you just keep it locked up inside you and eat you up from inside?

At times, it is better to spit out your feelings because it helps to alleviate your pains and sorrows and helps you maintain your sanity. At times, it is better to camouflage your feelings to hide your Achilles’ heels and prevent your foes from discovering a weapon to destroy you.

When you are happy, you will want to let the world know that you are the happiest person in the world. In my society, there is a phenomena called “casting the evil eye” which is done by our jealous foes and it results in our transient happiness to be eclipsed by permanent sorrows and misfortunes. Then again when we feel sad, we will want to share it to emancipate our heart from the sorrows but again our foes will know about our Achilles’ heels and prod the soft parts of our heart to lead us to our demise.

You will say, we can hide our emotions from our foes, and then they’ll not know about our weakness. True, you can do that but how many ill-wishers of yours will declare in front of you about their machinations? Would you yourself let a person know that you are his ill-wisher? People have become cunning these days and our foes are always around us, wearing the mask of liaisons, slandering the value of friendship. So, how will you distinguish your foes from friends?

Anyways, different person has different ideas and so we cannot expect the world to comprehend us completely. Goo goo dolls said in their song Iris, “And I don’t want the world to see me, because I don’t think that they’ll understand, when everything’s meant to be broken.” So, there’s no point in speaking out loud because you will be misunderstood. After all, our elders always said, ‘many men many minds.’

I believe that some feelings must be kept hidden while others can be expresses. As I said before, the expressing factor depends on the situation, on the feeling and on the people around us. We should be somewhere in between. We should first reflect our feelings in our own tranquil depths before we decide to let the whole world know. Like Manuel Bandeira said,-

‘Be like the flowing river,

Silent at night.

Be not afraid of the dark,

If there are stars in the sky, reflect them back.

If there are clouds in the sky,

Remember, clouds, like the river, are water,

So gladly reflect them too,

In your own tranquil depths.’-

we should be like the flowing river.

 

 

 

FALLEN

They tell me that I have fallen,

They tell me that it would be hard for me to get up now.

They tell me that I have fallen,

But I’ll get up soon; strong and rejuvenated….I avow.

They tell me I won’t be able to make it through,

Past the hail, the storm and the snow….

 

They say that I’ll have to suffer a haven of torments,

Before I could have my heart mended.

But why do they discourage me when I’m ready to get up and move on?

Why do they try to hold me back and chain me down….? Why can’t they let me move on???

Even if the fallen angels get another chance to get back to heaven,

Even if they get one more chance to get back their wings and evade the word “Fallen”….

Then why can’t I just get back to myself and not be fallen anymore….

Just getting back to being me and not be lonely anymore….

 

They tell me that I have fallen,

They tell me that it would be hard for me to get up now.

They tell me that I have fallen,

But I’ll get up soon; strong and rejuvenated….I avow.

They tell me I won’t be able to make it through,

Past the hail, the storm and the snow….

I don’t wanna be fallen anymore…

I don’t want them to call me fallen anymore…

‘Cause I have found my wings back and I can fly again,

Past the hail, the storm, the snow and the rain…..

Yes, I’m not fallen anymore; I have been emancipated….

No chains, no sorrows, no pasts and no torments….

To hold me back to the ground and name me fallen….

 But no I am not fallen anymore...