Writing would not have been so hard all of a sudden if only I had remained true to it. I ran from it as if running away from a bad memory. I am still trying to form an affinity with it. A lost affinity. Recognition will take time perhaps, ample time, because I have created such a vast distance. But then I have heard when it is time, it just comes running.
I remember being very sincere to my thoughts and writing before I thought of taking it up as a profession. That is when I felt the muse disappearing through the cracks. I am not sure if its a process of growth or just timidness. I am trying to figure it out.
I had never thought of reading my work out loud in front of an audience. When the time came, I was caught off guard, but I went ahead with it because I was IN it. I remember how nervous I was reading out for the first time. I gulped down my nervousness repeatedly before my name was called. I could feel my heart thudding so hard in my chest yet I was thankful it was something no one can see or hear. Talking about matters is different and writing about it is another process. It takes a lot of soul searching to put down in words what the mind experiences. Maybe thats why I am oscillating between hard core journalism/reporting and literary journalism. Former is too hard lacking empathy and the other genre is one that I fully embraced- unknowingly.
I had my print-out decorated on my lap and the professor called out my name. I sensed a strange feeling of confidence as I read out the title. Deep within I knew I was reading out something I fiercely believe in. That is what makes all the difference. There is a glint that sparkles in sincere words and feelings. Maybe it is borne out of concern and empathy. So as I read out my draft, my voice delivered the message I had always believed in: spread literacy. The subject matter was very close to my heart because it involved uncovering the scathing and bitter reality that frames the skeletal image of Pakistan, my homeland. Reading out candidly about how unaware people are about their own rights and dilapidating conditions, I felt naked to the bone. Reading to those who might not understand the background, culture and weaknesses can lead to some severe loop holes in the well intentioned writings. I finished reading and waited for someone to respond. The critical evaluation had arrived majestically. I looked around the room and almost everyone in the class had something to say. Words, beautiful and encouraging were presented to me. I was applauded for sophistication, empathy, lyrical quality, and that dignity resonated throughout the lines I had written. As these words flew around me, I tried not to adjust them around myself. I wanted them to fly away, because that’s how expectations build a majestic throne around your mind. And a throne can surely confine your creativity at times.
After that, every piece was silently expected to be just as good. Every time I was secretly pining for that glint of pride in the professors eye, who even today is one of my strongest supporter. A support I don’t think I ever gave to myself. After presenting a few drafts of what we prepared week after week, I started drowning in other matters that took over my life and I got further away from written words. Thoughts, doubts, apprehensions were swimming in my mind day and night. Classes ended, exams passed and thoughts and aspirations that I was able to glean with the help of the university routine, lay splattered around me in a very incoherent form. I just let them be and time passed.
Today I am sitting here and trying to get in touch with myself after a very long time. All these months that I spent away from myself and my inner being were the most disjointing. But sometimes, this process is also necessary to get in touch with a part of yourself. Stagnancy can never feed into creativity. Or should I say creativity can never drink from stagnancy.
I hope to bring that person in me who had the ability to tap on a moment, watch it in all its fluidity and then capture it in words like painters do on the canvas.
I want to reach…
