Through the Highs and Lows of an emotionally driven mind

The writer was asleep when he heard a distant rhyme.

Someone was praising him in his dreams.

He was smiling in his sleep. He pictured himself being surrounded by people he knew. They all were praising him.

There was an even rhythmic sense to the verses. It felt as if a song was woven together. The writer loved every letter of it. This was poetry at its purest form.

“Now wait a minute!!”

This was his first poem, the first that his genie had conjured up for him. The genie had chosen ‘A poem of self praise’. The choice of words was typical of his genie in his elements.

This was rather, his first song… and it was being played here,  in his dreams.

He tried in vain to memorise every word of it. He could not get up, as the song was still unfinished. He could not record everything, as the words were as if strung together by a delicate string of undercurrent emotion. He was ecstatic that his song came, and helpless that he could never replicate it on paper.

He woke up in tears, wondering when his genie would churn up his next poem. He wanted to sleep again, maybe he would dream of the song again. But he knew his dreams never repeated, and his song wouldn’t come.

He picked up the book nearest to him and opened a random page.

It said

“If I were to choose the power of writing a poem and the ecstasy of a poem unwritten,

I would choose the ecstasy.

It is better poetry.

But you and all my neighbors agree that I always choose badly.”

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Sometimes in life, you just go blank.

You want to do the one thing that gives your life some meaning. Yes, you want to write. You take your seat before the computer. The coffee mug is filled to the brim, its steaming hot. The taste would last the full hour of your typing. You even keep your favorite biscuits on the tray to your left. You are all set. You open your editor.

And you blink at the monitor. And the bloody thing won’t even blink at you.

You sit and you think. But you ain’t thinking. You are simply looking at space.

Your story won’t come. Your poem won’t take shape. Your article will flop. You are going to be one big loser. You are already a loser. You are a crazy loner sitting in front of your stupid monitor at this death of night and staring into it.

You have better things to do. But you cannot get up. You are depressed. You are irritated. You want to impress people with this write up. But you cannot even start. Boo hoo all you want, the story ain’t coming.

Go pick all the hair in your head out if you want, baldies are considered cute in this planet, why not go join them? Go out, try stalking someone of the opposite sex or your sex, whichever damn way you prefer. What in the world are you doing looking at this silly screen which won’t bloody talk to you?

And you were thinking you would make a career out of writing? You are such a moron. Come, write me one story, one poem…. Hell, write me one paragraph dammit. What a waste!What a shame! You don’t belong to this category of elite people.

Aah, now. What do I see, a tear in your eye? Or is it the hit your self-belief is taking? Or is it that you know what I say is true? Or is it that your inability is slapping you left and right and all you can do is stare at the monitor in astonishment.

Your story wont come tonight.

Now , don’t blame your deamon for it. You never acknowledged its presence when it churned out all those wonderful stories that you took credit for. How could you so blatantly refuse to acknowledge its presence and so shamelessly take all the laudation that came your way?  Now don’t blame on the genius in you for ditching you. Don’t blame your genius when the world spits at your works.

Open criticism atleast can be coped up with. Open abuse can be taken in.  But what are you going to give as a reply to all those who still say they believe in you? So easily they say you will come out of this shadow and write something out of the world. How are you going to face them? Will you ever get your deamon back?

You are a big nobody. Your writing days are over. You cant influence people anymore. You are going to have a miserable life- one in which you settle for second string stuff. You are going to perish a failure. Stop staring at the monitor you miserable piece of crap!

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Tom was a very exuberant chap when he joined the team managing the library. He had learnt his English from the academy and felt his knowledge was adequate enough to cope with the management efforts. He hoped that his new team would help him develop into one of the best when it came to the working of the library.

A week later….. “Tom, we have five floors of books in this library. Each floor stands for a different purpose. What the purpose is, you need not know as of now (Truth is that we ourselves don’t know). So anyways, do not ask what they are for.”

Two weeks later …… “Tom, today is a big day for you. You are gonna make your first correction. It’s a simple one,  all you need to do is go up the fourth floor, take up Shakespeare and do the correction in his English.”

A month later … “Tom, we have declared to the customers that we have sufficiently trained you. Now you will have 15 corrections to make in the next month. You will have about 5 time tracking devices which will monitor how you are spending your time. If anything, you can ask your teammates for help.”

Two months later… “Tom, did you finish the changes in the second floor? Oh, and by the way, in the fifth floor also there are changes to be done. Do both at the same time ok? By the way, it looks like the seniors are always working with you. Look to decrease your dependency on seniors.”

Three months later… “Tom, until now we had trained you how to make corrections in the books. From today, you will be writing new paragraphs into Shakespeare’s verses. Keep in mind that the overall time to read the book must not increase because of the extra verses you write.”

Four months later… “Tom, the guy who arranges the books will be on long leave, you would have to stack them up every week. In addition, you will have to maintain notes of what books you stacked and when. This will be in addition to your usual work. ”

Five months later… “Tom, our library has decided to take up books in Urdu too. So I would want you to take care of the new books coming in. Equip yourself with knowledge in Urdu. You have four days time.”

Six months later… “Tom, we have decided that Urdu is too remote for us. Hence we are going to use the latest European books. Learn French and German soon, I am sure they are easier than Urdu. So I will get expect you to be writing books within, say, five days?”

Seven months later… “Tom, am surprised you want to move to a different library. We have been spending so much of time training you and bringing you on par with your seniors. Its such a blow that you are asking for a change now.”

A week later … “Tom, our customers feel three people can manage 5 floors of books. So its been a pleasure having you here with us. You can leave to the next library down the road.”

******** Little Tommy could be anybody. Coincidence to real persons you might know is but a play of your perception. Feel free to share ‘your’ Tommy’s story too.

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