Writing as the solace it is

September 28, 2018

 

 SUMMONING SOLACE

a feature by Agampreet Kalra

 

 

Writing as the solace it is

 

Writing. Well writing for one is the most beautiful thing in the world. Now if you’re a non-writer you may oppose and consider it to be quite a nerve-reckoning and frustrating thing, which is exactly what it is for a frequent writer, but with obsession included, it is the wildest safe haven you can ever reside in. Writing is  hard, it can be strenuous and it can be ballistic but it is one of the most exquisite and relieving things you could ever have a flavour of. It is like tasting a Red vanilla cake with some great cheese cream with the most perfect wine, the type of wine which doesn’t exist in ‘reality’. The type of wine which is ambrosial.

 

Now, again if you’re a non- writer, you may think writing is all about putting down an issue or article or story down on the paper with legible hand writing, but hell no! It can never be ‘that’ and please loose that grotesque definition. Writing is like going into an another world, like visiting heaven, or hell, it depends on your content truly. But writing is like entering into an another adobe, a home with the most homeliness, a home where you know no one and nothing matters. Like all the worries vanish to dust. Like all the apprentice of being human or all the pretence is oblivion. It is a habitation where if nobody else, you can truly be you.

 

Life without writing can truly be scary, obnoxious, petrifying, but what matters is to write like you have never written before, to write like this the last time you will ever write. You don’t need inspiration, you don’t need to wait for the perfect time, you don’t need to take time out for writing. Just sit and write. It’s like opportunity, it won’t come to you unless you don’t reach out for it and every second you aren’t,  you’re missing just another.

 

Writing does distinctive things to the human mind- Sometimes you feel like writing is your only escape from the world, that it is the only thing the world-maker made to make the cosmos bearable. Sometimes it is but your only hope. Sometimes writing saddens us, sometimes it makes us laugh out with utter glee but only makes it the best is how our true emotions tangles with it. The only thing pure to us is writing. Even from the beginning, from the early ages, it has been the most varied and uncomplicated thing for us. We would write on the walls of the caves, we would write in our own figures. We would write in the alphabets that were most home to us and we would read from the shining stars.

 

We don’t need any education to write, we don’t need a formal uniform, the world may need an appropriate ‘style’ of flavour, but your writing isn’t a runway model, you don’t need to dress it up for anyone, you don’t attractive-ate it. You have your home, you have your hearth- why would you want to have a different type of fire for anybody else’s pleasure? Why are you trying to pedestrianise and babysit your fire?   Didn’t you build it for yourself? And does actual fire come in different forms? Why would you want to represent your house for anybody else’s exhibition?

 

Anyways, to write for yourself is magic and to write from yourself is divination. True writing comes from within. It is like waking up, when you sleep, you know that your only awakening is waking up. Every morning when you wake up, you may feel grateful, or not (it depends on your realisation and gratitude attitude). Anyways, so everyday when you wake up, you release your senses from the slumber and are completely lucid to the world. That’s what writing gives you as well. Everyday when you take life in, and elicit life out on paper, you become more lucid with your senses. You notice things more, you observe the unspoken, you scourge for passion and lithe, the kind of ones that exists in people’s eyes. Your expedition of the world may seem bountiful and you may realise things others won’t.  It is another type of meditation but better. It makes you alive, in more ways than just breathing.

 

Writing is also like reaching the end game ribbon in a marathon. Like when you run in a marathon, a life long, extremely extended marathon, you just run, you can’t stop because you will be disqualified and you keep running harder and harder until you reach the end game ribbon. Writing is that end game ribbon. Marathon is that life.

 

Now, forgive me to ponder but what may happen if writing wouldn’t exist? Apart from lack of communication through textual forms. What may happen if tomorrow you wake up and if you aren’t acquainted with writing anymore? For one, you will be angry, well probably because your vehement feelings wouldn’t know any way else to release, and they would remain in your senses and heat up. For two, life will get harder. And For three, you wouldn’t be able to renounce yourself. You won’t be able to understand who that person is, whose body you’re living in. You won’t be able to express because you won’t be able to utterly feel. Your thoughts won’t be lucid anymore. Your mind and senses always fuzzy. And furthermore, you won’t be able to feel either. Now Tell me, how will you act without expressions? How will be able to inhale if you won’t exhale?

 

Writing is our own type of therapy, our own kind of healing. It helps us to vent, it helps us to breathe. It teaches us to let things go to clutch things harder. It teaches us to be the “members of the human society”. It teaches us to be passionate, to be romantic and to be