Good morning good people of the world (or whichever part of the day it is). It has been a while, and as I wipe off the dust covered volumes of my blog posts (over-dramatizing as always) I cannot help but feel happy and proud at what a brilliant writer I was. Yes, 'was'. I am an over conceited, self centered realist who accepts the fact that my brilliance is a fading entity in the world of literature. I know there will be a lot of skeptisism on the liberal use of the word “brilliance”, but I choose to exercise my imagination to the furthest there. Bear with me.
The road to a good story is a journey that defines itself. You begin with a few roadblocks, the traffic, you change lanes and routes, hit a few dead ends before hitting the right track. This road is the one that takes you places. The vast expansive highway, away from the crowds, the breeze in your hair as emotions and circumstances pass you by. You feel the road, the people and things that make it and build it up in your head, you live in it. The beauty of the road is that it is whatever you want it to be. The mountain breeze blowing down the icy slopes, the sunset over the coast, a campfire under the stars looking out to the twinkling lights of the city afar. The story can be one of sheer joy, or extreme pain, but the journey remains the same. But as it goes with all journeys, they must end and new ones begin in their stead. It is the lure of the journeys that call out for a tale to told.
Now why this sudden deep insight? Well, this puts into perspective where I am at the moment. I am stuck, with a broken car. I look around and I see much of the same. Broken cars, and broken drivers. The city passes me by at its own pace without a backward glance, as I sit on the roadside dreaming of the faraway lands of magical wonder. I could sit up, get the car fixed, but that sounds like a lot of hard work. Instead here I am, expecting a magical intervention or some help from other quarters to put me out of my misery. I want a tale worth telling, I want a journey worth living, but here I am, stuck, broken and despairing. Am I meandering into the mundane? Maybe.
So, a vague post later here I am, in a part of the world very ordinary and here you shall find me for the time being. My journey differs from yours, I ask for no lifts, but for the journey less ordinary to unfold so that I can return to tell a tale again. One day...