Words

She wished the cursor would stop blinking. It was like a constant reminder that she could write no more. The words had finally deserted her. She knew this happened to all writers. But they did not last for the better half of a decade. She had been working on her last book for quite some time now. The words had flowed first, then they slowly trickled down and now they had come to a standstill. All she had now were 500 pages of nothing. She looked away from the computer.

Her apartment was in a disarray. Her life was no different. She was divorced, alone and almost broke. Her gaze fell on the photo on her wall. It was hanging in a lopsided manner. She had thrown a book at it a week ago. Was it a week ago? The days no longer bothered her. Her life revolved around her computer. There she was smiling proudly, with the millionth copy. That was ten years ago. Now she did not know the difference between a week and a decade.

She hated to think about her past. The days she spent in the orphanage. The day she met her fist publisher and her future husband. The day they moved into their new house. The good memories always brought back the bad ones. The arguments, the unsold copies of books in the stores, the affair, the divorce…Life had come a full circle for her. She was alone again.

In a sudden urge she selected the file she had been writing into and pressed delete. It asked for the mandatory, “ Are you sure you want to …..”. She paused for a minute and then hit enter. Now all she had left was a four month back log on her rent. But she smiled. She opened a new word document and typed:

FULL CIRCLE

She wished the cursor would stop blink…

The words have stopped flowing, but the ego wont give up. I found this at Sakshi’s blog and decided to indulge in a lil bit of an ego ride. Continue only if you have absolutely nothing else to do…..

If I were….

If I were a beginning, I would be: “It is a sin to write this.”

If I were a month, I would be: October.

If I were a day of the week, I would be: Saturday.

If I were a time of day, I would be: a lazy afternoon.

If I were a planet, I would be: Pluto.

If I were a season, I would be: winter.

If I were a sea animal, I would be: wet.

If I were a direction, I would be: east.

If I were a piece of furniture, I would be: a couch.

If I were a sin, I would be: proud.

If I were a liquid, I would be: sprite.

If I were a fraud/scare, I would be: rich.

If I were a gem, I would be: jade.

If I were a tree, I would be: a Christmas tree.

If I were a tool, I would be a: lever.

If I were a flower/plant, I would be: a daffodil.

If I were a kind of weather, I would be: rainy.

If I were a musical instrument, I would be: a guitar.

If I were an animal, I would be: an ass.

If I were an emotion, I would be: angry.

If I were a vegetable, I would be: a potato.

If I were a sound, I would be: rain drops falling on a puddle of water.

If I were an element, I would be: radium.

If I were a car, I would be: fast.

If I were a song, I would be: “Sandhosha kaneerae…”

If I were a food, I would be: a roti.

If I were a place, I would be: my home.

If I were a material, I would be: cotton.

If I were a taste, I would be: tangy.

If I were a scent, I would be: the smell of earth after the rain.

If I were a religion, I would be: the last one.

If I were a sentence, I would be: lucid.

If I were a body part, I would be: a pair of eyes.

If I were a facial expression, I would be: shocked.

If I were a subject in school, I would be: math.

If I were a shape, I would be: square.

If I were a quantity, I would be: 3,821.

If I were a color, I would be: black.

If I were a thing, I would be: me.

If I were a landmass, I would be: drifting.

If I were a book, I would be: Anthem.

If I were a monument, I would be: janthar mathar.

If I were an artist, I would be: playing the flute.

If I were a collection of poems, I would be: a little more educated.

If I were a landscape, I would be: waiting for the rain.

If I were a watch, I would be: never late.

If I were God, I would be: Surprised!

If I were a vowel, I would be: an I.

If I were a consonant, I would be: Z.

If I were a formula, I would be: (a + b)^2=??

If I were a Science, I would be: math.

If I were a theory, I would be: easy to prove.

If I were a famous person, I would be: SRK.

If I were an electronic equipment, I would be: the TV.

If I were sport, I would be: F1.

If I were a movie, I would be: Thakshak

If I were a cartoon, I would be: Tintin

If I were an explorer, I would be: Indiana Jones.

If I were a scientist, I would be: Shannon.

If I were a relation, I would be: a friend.

If I were a river, I would be: meandering along.

If I were intoxication, I would be: words.

If I were alone, I would be: myself.

If I were a question, then I would be: how?

If I were a hobby, I would be: music.

If I were a habit, I would be: lazy.

If I were in an atom, I would be: an electron.

If I were an end, I would: melodramatic!

If I were you, I would be: having no life.

I had gone camping over the weekend and so was completely out of touch with technology. It was a fun weekend, except that it was a little too hectic. I wrote “I”, somwehre in the middle of the night there on a piece of paper towel. Thats why you would find it shorter than most of my other stories.

Its good to be back in front of a computer, though I wont say that I really missed it over the weekend. Need to catch up on a lot of work, got a few exams coming up aswell. Will write up on the trip at some other time. Have to get back to work now. Ciao.

“I”

He never said what he really wanted to say. He never did what he really wanted to do. He lived his life in the eyes of others. He did what he thought others wanted him to do. He did only what others expected of him. Now he did not know how to think for himself. He no longer knew what his instincts were. His instincts were those of others.He no longer knew what he wanted in life. But he was successful, in the eyes of others. He was happy, in the eyes of others. Everybody liked him. That is all he ever wanted.

A 55 word story

My story

I wondered, why 55? Would 56 make it a little too boring? Maybe 54 would not be good enough to tell you a good story. So I decided I will give it a shot aswell and began writing my own story. And when I reached the end, guess what….my story had exactly 55 words.

Death is a strange thing. All our lives we live with the knowledge that we will die some day. Everyone knows that for a fact. But we dont stop living. But at the same time, we dont embrace death aswell. We live most of our lives without any fear of death, the arrogant fools that we are. And most of us turn out ok. We dont think about how easy it is to die. And we dont think about the millions of people dying somewhere. We have our own lives to live. And why should we worry about someone dying half way across the earth. And even if we start thinking about all these people who die everyday, what would we have for ourselves? It just doesnt work that way. And why the hell should we give so much importance to death, especially someone else’s.

Death is like a book. When you die, your book just got over. All that is left are memories. And you cant remember everything. Maybe a few good ones here, a couple of bad ones there. Besides, you dont have the time to think about those memories. And then there is nothing left. You dont exist any longer. And even if someone remembers you long after you are gone, what difference does it make? Nothing.

What happens when you lose your purpose to live? Does it mean you have lost your license to live. Isnt there any hope left? Would it take such a long time for you to find another purpose that you decide its not worth even trying? What makes you so sure that you dont have anything left to live for. When do you say,”Thats it, I have lived my life. Screw you all, bastards. Am outta here.”