Passive

I pushed open my window and leaned out.. I rested my palms on the window sill and let my eyes graze in the field of nature… it was eight-thirty in the morning,and the sun hadn’t left its bed yet..i could smell my breath ,the freshly brushed teeth..my toothpaste..i smelt it all.. .. there at a small construction site near my house,the workers had already set to work.. a girl dressed in red skirt and white shirt cycled down the grey pitched road,off to school…. Somewhere near by a cycle rickshaw honked.. I saw a grand father,combed white hair,in grey pyjamas taking his grand daughter to school…down there,beside my apartment,there stood a girl,busy texting to someone..i could hear a conversation between the locals vegetable seller and a middle aged woman.. I could hear the baby in the neighbouring house,fumbling with his newly learnt words….

A crow flapped his wings and flew by..the banana tree near my apartment building had outgrown.. I noticed the leaves hung over on the other side of the wall..parts of it had dried up,and drooped down..the building overlooking my apartment was an old one..i saw peepal saplings growing from the cracks of the building…it looked old,weary..experienced and weathered….

Along the window railing,I noticed a dispatched cob-web..no spider lay there..may be it was a failed attempt by a spider,I thought.. the air smelt musty,like spinach leaves..i heard the clanging of utensils …. Slowly the sunlight started filtering in,and in gradual succession,I could hear the noise of daily life amplifying…honks of vehicles,calls of vegetable sellers,shops opening…..i did not want to hear it all over again……..so, I pulledthe curtain,sat down at my table and stuck a book at my nose………

….the day had had already begun……..

-swasTIKA

Creativity competition

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So many creative writing competitions are held in my school..every year…interchool..intraschool..etc…

I write so much daily…but never have I ever won any such competition.. Actually,the whole idea or concept of writing----TO COMPETE—never does fascinate me….

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Rather,it sorta sound weird…the whole arrangement of it..writing is one’s passion..it is not to be displayed to impress others..it is to satisfy oneself..to quench one’s own thirst.___It is simply so weird---there is a specific topic given,specific time..and what more…..a WORD LIMIT!!!

…its jus so funny!

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I did once attend such a competition(actually I didn’t out of my own desire..i was forced into an invitation by my English teacher)…you know,what I did there?...In the beginningi tried to jot down something,___then I spent quite some time—observing others—someone bent over her paper..someone scribbling…someone trying hard to extract something worthwhile___i gazed on__and then__after a while,I pushed back my chair,and submitted my almost blank paper and walked off___

MOREOVER,creativity CANNOT BE JUDGED .._because the creator alone knows the creation implicitly_ _ _and the judge or the observer might not have(generally doesnot have) the perception of the creator,to judge the creation,…..and this is my opinion..

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p.s. opinions vary from one person to the other..

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and so,when you read/see a creation by someone else,you only have the right and the ability to express what it makes you feel,but never…good or bad…….. :)

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-swasTIKA

Curvature of sun-shine

The weight of the cruel pain beneath the wound,refuses to be washed away under the gushing water from the tap of the sink……..and so,I write,to let the crystallized feelings within me,melt away from my heart…..I write…to let my words vapourize like thin spirit,that tickles the nasal passage…..to let my bile churn inside the stomach,allowing the hurricane to rise……to let my thoughts be washed away by the torrential rain,under the dark clouds__and disappear like the morning mist……

Complexity is a welcome-break for me..it keeps me at ease,its like churning every single thread of thought,into a bowl of thick gravy,…..and one has to mess both hands,to wriggle out the simple……like fusing sense into non-sense…

-swasTIKA