It’s cold outside, so I’d rather prefer a soup, but I’ll get some coffee for you. For the last two days I’ve been desperate for a listener, so this conversation is very much welcome.
It has been a busy week, with two Unit Tests and more schoolwork to do but I manged to survive anyway, and I’m very much satisfied with my work. I also finished reading Gulzar’s Half A Rupee Stories, translated from Urdu by Sunjoy Shekhar. I’d bought the book sometime in late June, but it took me so long to finally finish it because I was simultaneously reading five other books and the Harry Potter series.
I’d expected something awe-inspiring and magnificent – that’s the effect of his poetry and his lyrics on you. But this book was so different from the Gulzar we’re used to. His words are always simple, but only on hearing or reading them for the thousandth time do you pay attention and realize how much depth and meaning they hold in them. He says so much and so simply.
But Half A Rupee Stories wasn’t satisfying. Most of the stories felt like incomplete fragments, something which is different from open-ended short stories. You get what the author meant without him/her having the need to say it, but the stories in this book leave you wondering what the story was about. Some of them included fragile, beautiful moments, but that was the only good thing about the book. That, and one particular story that I found very sweet – Ghugu and Jamuni, a story about a bird in love with a paper kite. Other than that, the book left me wanting more.
Besides studying and reading, I’ve also been feeling quite lonely. My loneliness is like the moon, it keeps coming and going. It isn’t consistent, and on the days when it shrouds itself over me, I feel as if I’m in a different world. As if I’m someone else. I’d written a long blog post about it, but by the end I’d found something comforting – solutions often occur to me when I write about my problems – and I thought it to be pointless to bore you with my rants. There was a lot in there about my best friend who left me eight months ago and I resolved to myself, after having written countless times about her, that this is the last time that I do so. Tonight when I finally throw away the gifts and letters she gave me (and which I thought to preserve to remind me of the good days with her), I’d be able to say that I’ve completely let her go. My Psychology teacher had told me that there was no point in holding onto those things if there no longer existed a connection between me and my best friend.
I feel a lot better now though, and I know that the only way for me to escape my loneliness is to read words, or write them.
Speaking of writing, I read some of my old writing today, and I’m glad to notice that I’m not that bad and hopeless as I’d thought myself to be. Some of the stories seem like they could be published in a literary magazine if I polished them a little, and I’m going to work on them in the upcoming winter holidays. There are also a bunch of stories that I like but aren’t good enough to be published, so I’m going to share them here instead. I was eventually scared of what impression they would give of me as a writer, because, after all, they’re not very special or extraordinary. I’ve never shared my fiction with so many people before, but I convinced myself that by making myself vulnerable and sharing my stories here, I’ll only get more confident to put my work out there, and a little feedback will be more than appreciated. I hope you’ll let me know what you think.
You don’t have time to be timid! You must be bold, daring. -Beauty and the Beast