That's a writer's fantasy | punjab | Hindustan Times
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That's a writer's fantasy

My emotions left an impression on the paper as my pen moved to the rhythm of my heart. My pen rocked and rolled as I wrote on. I wanted to bring revolutionary changes. Reminding people of true love and real life, I wanted them to forget human foreboding and disentangle themselves from the meaningless.

punjab Updated: Dec 02, 2013 09:40 IST
Yuvika Grewal

My emotions left an impression on the paper as my pen moved to the rhythm of my heart. My pen rocked and rolled as I wrote on. I wanted to bring revolutionary changes. Reminding people of true love and real life, I wanted them to forget human foreboding and disentangle themselves from the meaningless.


"One day I will be a writer," I mused with a sufficient sense of pride.

I felt more to write more. I slid into peaceful corners of the house like a sneaky spider, became a silent witness to the world around, and spun a web of words. Soon my soul departed for a long walk and I was transported to new emotional heights. I looked around to find the writer's muse.

I urged nature to speak to me. I read more to know more. The acclaimed poet, Shiv Kumar Batalvi, expresses in one of his poems, Kujh rukh maenu, puht lagde ne, Kujh rukh lagde maavaan. Kujh rukh noohaan dheeyaan lagde, Kujh rukh vaang bharaavaan. (Some trees look like sons to me, some like mothers.

Some are daughters and daughters-in-law, a few like brothers.) I gazed at trees to swirl a conversation.

Inspired, I wrote on. My writings in their nascent stage started to flourish. I wrote a few poems and a few writings found themselves in the middle columns of renowned newspapers.

"Am I a writer already?" I asked myself. No, I wasn't for I had yet not experienced the indispensable writer's block. After the self-imposed writer's block, the ideas rained again like ants on the rooftop of my village house to grow tiny wings after a heavy downpour.

And one day, as a teacher I walked into a class of to-be-graduates and out of curiosity asked, "Who all love reading?" Barely three out of 40 students raised their hands. I heard my heart crashing.

How will I bring change if nobody reads? "Live life first-hand by experiencing it yourself and live life second-hand by reading about other people's lives," the words once uttered by my English teacher echoed in my head. Bhagat Singh, the revolutionary, read countless books and led the entire nation to change. What is today's youth interested in?

I collected the shattered pieces of my heart and felt the heaviness a writer feels and made my way out.

A bevy of five girls came after me who seems to have taken fancy to my random ways and asked "Ma'am, how far do we have to go to be like you?"

Touched and amazed, I answered, "Have a desire to change yourself and the world around you, and you will reach there soon."


chandigarh, pen, rhythm, spice of life, spider, hindustan times, news.

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