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A Book I wish I had written

Submitted by Kasha

The idea of a book I never wrote!

As I sit down with a mug of Americano nestled between my thighs, piping hot, with its aroma tinkling my senses, I feel this unquenchable urge to pen down every emotion that has never been said, though, wanting to be a writer or wanting to write a book that emulates the exact emotion is arduous. Honestly speaking, I do not have a favourite writer but what I have is the words that were left behind by them. I do not think we completely fall in love with a writer as much as we do with their words and that is what makes me say it out loud. A writer resides in me and it feels good to say it and after all these years, I can say it fits to say this.

I am the kind of girl who nibbles at her fingers when excited, whistles when she says an ‘s’, types with one finger, is a debater, has an accent, sees everyone as a colour that’s not pink, turns every statement into a question by raising her voice at the end of the statement, smells the pages of a book and walks on her toes and so on and so forth and I can vouch that even after being such an unorganized mess, I have realized just one thing and that I’m a writer and it absolutely fits because the inability to write as freely as my mind could think still discomforts me more than everything else that does.

A voracious reader that I am, I have lived a thousand lives and died a thousand more. As I am getting to know my character, I have a list of traits that I have noticed in other fictional characters created by some of the brilliant authors. Now, when you feel you have so many words out there afloat in the realm between fantasy and reality, do you really think a person with so many thoughts can come up with the brilliance that needs to be met? William Shakespeare, Ernest Hemingway, J.D Salinger, Harper Lee, Sylvia Plath and so many others have left such mark in the face of literature that it is unfathomable to meet them in any way possible. There was a time when they did not think about expressing to impress. They did and it was creativity and imagination at it’s best.

There are innumerable books out in the market so what do I want to write about then? What do I want to write so badly that I feel hasn’t been written before? Every morning I would go to the empty streets on the other side of the road during the wee hours and would stare into the distance, unless, one day, I realized the only struggle that mankind has faced in terms of understanding and wanting to decipher the codes is nothing but a four lettered word which is complete in its own. It’s called LIFE – tangled as grandma’s yarn. How would you explain to a four year old what life is? How would you make your grandmother understand what have you thought of life so far and what have you done so far to make them believe in you? My life has had many questions. I am not someone who accepts things readily or embraces whatever is taught without questioning it, without reasoning it. When you have a curious soul, you often tend to break rules and mould them according to your conveniences, which on the hindsight doesn’t mean, being adamant or self-loathing; it simply means you are like a violin in a marching band.

Reiterating, the idea of writing a book is so idealistic in nature. No writer is ever satisfied with what they write. If you ask me to write a paragraph for you on any topic, I will and also with ease. When I read it, I will find that there are a hundred ways to frame the same sentence and each sentence will give a different feeling. The passion and the zest for words are such! You cannot ask a writer to just sit down and bleed. It is holy, it is pious, and it needs dedication. I have dreaded it for so long not because I cannot but because I feel I might not be able to do justice to the idea. Words to shame! Maybe that is why it still remains an idea. But, in a nutshell, when I have my first manuscript unjustifiably (I hope not) complete, I hope I am able to free the words from the cage of my mind. I don’t know if it will be a tell-all, but I hope I am able to live up to the culture that’s only in my mind because not everything you want to say needs a voice.

I won’t end this write-up vaguely because I know what I want now. Out of all others, the first on my list is an epistolary novel in the form of letters, to be addressed to the Divine. All the experiences I have had, all that I am and yet to be as a human, above any caste, creed or religion. Don’t get me confused when I say I do not believe in religion but in God. For me and me alone, God is far beyond these religious texts, these interpretations. God doesn’t need an individual to follow him, to worship him, for He is the only one free from pride. When I see injustice in the world, it definitely pains me. It makes me crib and I go to bed sleepless tossing from one end to the other but it doesn’t make me question Him. All I do is my part through what I can. If the world is full of injustice and even if I can see a fraction of it, I would rather try to address that injustice than curse God. I will do my bit to defeat injustice prevailing and hopefully, when I shall have completed my book, my readers shall have empathy. Blooming where we are planted is the best thing we can do than blame, curse or give up on this journey called life. For life isn’t about you or me, it’s about us!

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