I have been bitten by the ‘scribble bug’. I itch to write. Not that it has to be something meaningful. But something, anything. Well technically this is not scribbling/doodling. It’s more like typing trash.
But I do scribble. A lot……few vignettes:
A few days back it was raining. One of those days when I did not want it to stop:
Sodden wood work rotting away. Dark shadows. Water dripping down the spines of palm leaves. Blurry high-rises. Ever-increasing puddles on the dark pitch beneath.
The rains against the street-light; twirling, dancing, a smoky frill, coming down in tiny needle-like shards.
When you are prolific, you supposedly write trash. But when you scribble, then you come up with quite a few one-liners! And you surprise yourself:
- “I can fall in love with you a thousand times over….but I cannot stay in love with you….”
- You know the World is still egalitarian when…………A 26-year-old and a 60-year-old sip on Bournvita blissfully while a 7-year-old demands Kurkure!
- Two of the greatest Arts one should master: The Art of ‘saying no’ & The Art of ‘messing up and acting cool’.
Truth be told I have been going through confusion(s). It is of such a nature that I prefer to keep it to myself. Past experiences have taught me to be reticent –exponentially so – for my own good. Scribbling takes my mind off it or helps to find plausible answers/explanations alternatively.
I am running the risk of dwindling down the spiral of a mindless rant. I would rather stop……..till the next time I am overcome by the urge to ‘post’ my scribbles.