A “Real” Blog Post

Maybe a Blog, in some ways, should reflect the kind of stuff that I'm thinking at the moment.

Maybe a Blog should, sometimes, be a little more about me, rather than made-up stuff. Things have changed manifold; I never thought three years ago was such a helluva long time.

This post was inspired by two things that happened almost simultaneously. First, I wanted to write a story (as always), and had the perfect idea for it too – but somehow I couldn't put the story in words. Frustrated, I went online, and that's when a friend suggested that I write something about myself for a change, and in her words, something for myself. On my part, I think it's quite a boring topic to be writing about – honestly, I'm quite a normal guy, living a very normal life.

Second, while online, I stumbled across the blog that I used to write on about three years back. I had completely forgotten the existence of that blog, but the sight of that page jogged a lot of memories. Hence, this post.

A little while back, I said something about a blog being composed of things more than what is made-up. There was a time when I used to write only the non-made-up things, which is something that I can't really relate to right now. I mean, forget writing things about myself in the blog; I don't think I've written anything but fiction in my diary also for a really long time now, more than three years to be precise. However, in the viewpoint of the 2006 me, "I don't want to write about people I make up, and about the problems these made up people face, day after day, in their own fictitious world…"

This is probably what our FHRM lecturer meant when she was talking about change. Tonight, I found out that change somehow does creep up quietly from behind you, and alters your world, so gradually, that you hardly notice that change sometimes.

One line still holds totally true from that old blog of mine.

I still want to be a writer.

***
Two links I'd like to post here, the first one being something my friend Isha wrote about Change. The other, for the ultra curious folks out there, my old blog on yahoo360. I don't visit that blog, nor do I operate that one, and I'd like to keep it that way. Any comments posted there would most probably not be replied to. There are some weird things about me after all.

The Unshakeable

It was a story about a couple. They were lovers, but couldn't show their love. They were married, but spent little time together. They had a child who had been taken away from them. They were together, but they were more alone with each other than they were by themselves.

It was not a true story. Yet in some ways, the words on paper seem truer than the stories we have heard from people for so many days.

It was a story of secrets that should have remained untold. It was a story of small incidents that should have stayed insignificant, but they didn't.

It was a lament. They cried, but I didn't.

I am a rock.

No, really.

The First Flight

Poised at the edge of the balcony, in the backdrop of the inky sky lit up by the floodlights of a nearby factory, he waited. Like a little child waiting to blow out the candles, and leave the inky sky jet black; devoid of the amber light.

He paused for a moment, waiting. The right breeze, that would carry him on. That would carry him over the floodlights that looked like birthday cake candles.

He watched for a moment, spotting things untrained human eyes tend to miss out. The panorama being his guide, he readied himself.

He ruffled his feathers one last time. Moments before he took to the endless skies.

That night, he flew.

The Gravity Well

Imagine floating.

Imagine your hair loose, flying in the soft breeze.

Imagine you dancing in the wind. Imagine chasing the butterflies. The dragonflies. The cotton balls as they float idly in the summer sun.

Imagine being at the center of the earth, where Gravity cannot reach you. Imagine going round and round in circles, and actually enjoying that for a change.

Imagine the floor disappearing from under your feet. Imagine yourself rising slowly, steadily. Imagine reaching out for the inky black sky, the twinkling stars studded in the heavens above.

Imagine being at the centre of a bubble, which carries you over the world as you know it.

Imagine flying higher and higher. Imagine toucing the red hot sun, with the mittens so it doesn't burn your skin. Imagine the warmth, the promise of life.

Imagine blowing over an apple tree in full bloom. Imagine an apple racing towards the earth, too ripe for the tree. Imagine the sweet crunchiness as your teeth bite into the apple.

Imagine...

That Gnome

2:15 AM seems the right time for some weird little inspirations, like the one I just had, about a butterfly chasing Gnome...

One fine morning, my pet Gnome and I
Went down to the garden, to catch a butterfly
The gnome was happy, so this poem we wrote,
but he didn't see where he was walking, and squished a toad
Shocked, the gnome looked down and said, "Blimey!
That little toad sure is green and slimy!"
"You idiot, that's 'coz you killed him," said I,
"and you chased away that big butterfly!"
"Quick, run, after the tiny beast," said he
and in his haste, tripped into an elm tree
Bonk! went the gnome's head on the tree bark
Dazed and confused, he said "Flengin, glargen, plark!"
Just then, floated a butterfly with a big, big wing
"Charge! we have to capture that little thing!"
With that warcry, the gnome went off again,
and promptly forgot his guilt, shame, and pain
Up the hill, down the hill, even side to side
that wily butterfly took the gnome for a ride
Alas! the fat gnome had no chance
Thus giving up, he returned with a contemptuous glance
"Well," I asked him, "did you at least see the colour of the wing?"
"Dude, don't ask me that, 'coz orange doesn't rhyme with anything!"