Why I Want To write?

Why I Want To Write?

Writing is my passion. I simply love to write. Playing with words gives me immense satisfaction. I always find myself driven by an infinite desire to give expression to thoughts. Whenever I lay my hands on something to read, more than the content, I measure its worth by its language, the use of words and the command with which it was written. To me, the more one played with words, the more joy I derived reading it. I like to construct lengthy & complex sentences which has led my friends often to remark that they needed second reading to comprehend them. Of course, the primary aim of writing would be to hold the attention of the reader. Make him read every bit of what I have written. Nothing gives you greater joy than when you hear the readers say that they liked a particular section very much which in itself is proof that they have gone through every bit of it. When you make someone read the whole thing and not just in bits, that is when you really feel that it was worth the efforts. You only read something when you find it interesting – ‘content’ with its contents, or the flow of language, the powerful expressions. The quality of writing can be measured by the degree of ease with which the reader is able to immediately visualize the circumstances or the description. If you are describing a horror sequence in a rainy forest, the reader must feel the sequence or the picture as though he himself is experiencing it, making him feel as if he is watching it before his eyes – when in fact he is reading it. If you are able to create such an effect on the reader, then you have made it. I have read ‘The Godfather’, by Mario Puzo. The description of sequences & characters was amazingly awesome for it made you feel them. And when I saw the movie, it was even more stunning, because, the pictures I visualized while reading the novel were ‘picture-perfect’ in movie as well!! Capturing reader’s attention throughout & make him feel the atmosphere are the real challenges for a writer. This in fact is my ambition.

VISIONARY STUFF

VISIONARY STUFF

“Hi! There, I said, I’ve something for you”. “Out with it”. I gave him a copy of my work. I hinted that it was an article intended to tickle a rib or two, if not rib-tickling! I also instructed him to tell me it tickled his.

I felt lonely. Very lonely. I began to journey up and down the available place in my smallish joint. Nine and a half steps of ten inch each about covered a journey up. A fraction too immaterial. Well, coming back to my being lonely, I really failed to account for it. I tried to remember if I had any matter requiring my attention so that I could disengage myself from loneliness. Washing clothes, not a bad idea. But then I had done it only a couple of weeks back! No sense in indulging in that. What a colossal waste of water that is becoming more and more scarce if I did. How about a letter homewards? Not enough matter to complete a line of ten words. Famine of incidents was so extreme that the beginning of the third sentence would turn out to be a repetition of the first one. Don’t ask me what the second sentence is. Alright, if you insist, I guess I should tell you: (for your ears only) I skipped the second line.

The feeling of loneliness began to loom large. It was when I was about to place my eighth step, for the sixth time when it flashed across my mind. Why not marry? I discontinued this pacing business. I jumped at the idea. Marriage! What a tremendous sense of relief this idea brought me. Joyous tears that I shed might have filled a reasonable spoon. I could already sense loneliness clicking its pointed heels. My logic tells me that it has to be pointed because otherwise how could it click as it trotted along the tiled floor? A new chapter in my life albeit in its infancy.

No longer do I have to go to the hotels where the repetitive sight of dished succeeded in half taking away my appetite. No more do I have to swallow the messy foods in the mess. With my (beautiful) wife around, I shall be relieved of these painful exercises. I need not have to contemplate over a morning coffee. Going down all the way to a god-forsaken place for a sip of coffee in the faint hope of cheering me up a bit is something that I would be anxious to skip at the slightest excuse. To have your wife is something that does not surely fall short of the slightest excuse I alluded to. (in fact, it would go way beyond). At this juncture, I feel rather compelled to drag you back to where I mentioned going down all the way. Here I must tell you that my room is perched on the final storey of the building. Now I am sure you are able to comprehend why I have mentioned going down all the way was one hell of a journey! While at it, I may as well tell you that the building where I stayed had only two floors including the ground floor! If this is not a case of digression, I wonder what else is. Let me dart back to where I had gone off the rails. Where was that? Oh! Yes, of course, what a sight it is to see your wife bringing a tremendously refreshing cup of coffee on your waking up. I take it that my wife will always beat me to the sun. won’t you, darling? Err! Don’t mistake me, I was only addressing my (imaginary) wife. Am I enjoying the life? It seems so beautiful: my helping her in her work, doing a bit of this and a piece of that. Looking back, I have had occasions to spend countless evenings by the river side enjoying the tranquil, sylvan atmoshphere, watching young couple exchanging words ecstatically, bursting occasionally into a hearty laugh. Now that I am richer in my belongings, I intend taking her out there by the riverside. We would sit at such place as would allow us to drench ankle high and talk , talk and talk. Coming to think of it, what is it that we would talk about? An imposing question indeed! I drew blank. I wished I had a Bertie Wooster to help me out. I still remember how exceptionally ingeniously he manipulated a hopeless case of Gussie-Fink-Nottle and Madelaine Bassette into a perfectly matching pair! I wished I had a Bertie kind with me. Again I was struck by an idea. Why, of course, I would talk about my efficient work at the branch. How I had tallied Pigmy Deposit balancing in first try itself. That I made OG 73 for Rs 10.99 and Rs 100.01 being interest earned on FDs when any other employee would most certainly be tempted to credit Rs 11 and Rs 100 should prove to be a pointer to the fact that how exceptionally accurate (or miserly) I am, I would tell her! How I intend to prove myself to be indispensable to the banking industry I would chart out before her. Oh! Dear, ain’t you listening to me? Sorry, it never occurred to me that I could be boring you, Cheer up, Darling! Don’t you remember that I made a promise that I would buy you a mink coat today? Hardly had I finished saying that before I found her in my arms. I hugged her. It was then that I was brought to surface. Whom was I hugging? To be appropriate, what was I hugging? I was trying to hug air!!.

Did it tickle your rib? I asked, “May be, your next work will”, he said!!!.