I don't know where to begin, but I don't want to think about it anymore, as I am sure I can "begin" from anywhere. It is only a matter of time. I am writing this primarily as a self-serving cause. To help or assist or to look through for myself. I know I should do this. But I don't know when and how. It was always a matter of concern for me, "when", and "how". And I decided to take a plunge anyway. And in the process- regardless of very minimal effort as a visible text- I realised it's not always about your decision but whether you could tread that path as you wish, as I faced so many troubles to even reach this point. Yes, a mere 60 words.
One of the aforesaid hurdles, as a coincident, when I opened my laptop, it irked me with five consistent, loud beep noises. It is a symptom of one of the functioning parts of the system malfunctioning (not a biggie). And I still hear the loud beep sound. But I am furthering ahead. Because I know it sounds like a reasonable excuse to procrastinate further, notwithstanding this writing process, but for most of the things in life. I would have, a few months ago, or surely I would have postponed this exercise citing the consistent noise my laptop exerts by a year ago. Because I was very much fond of the comfort I received from absolving hard tasks at hand. But the urge to get over that thought was the first trigger to put myself into words. And in a way this is a hard task, I think.
If I have to be a believer of any sort, or if a need arises ahead that I have to be categorised as a believer of something, I would gleefully proclaim myself as a believer of words. Because nothing assured me like a pile of words did. It's not just about celebrated literature and myriad works of stalwarts over time, but also about a long simple worded email, we would've received from one of friends or partners. Two weeks ago I had an interesting conversation with one of my brothers, about the folly or foulness of the short messaging format of instant messaging apps and repercussions it lays on the everyday life of its extensive usage. More interesting enough, we recognised we faced a similar pattern of exchanges with people who we often engage with in terms of various realms of our daily life. That led to a primary consensus between us towards the understanding that human emotions are complex enough to ridicule any thought of fixating that it could be articulated convincingly through instant messaging platforms. As the latter is more suitable to "hurry" and "bury" conversations. The long format and laboriously worded sensible exchanges with our loved ones is the one best go-to place for a sensible relationship and closure. This personal exchange of mine and the following consensus might sound quite obvious to many but we often forget that we still engage and respond to complex aspects of our emotions through these untenable mediums.
I started this post an hour ago, without any clue of wherewithals. But looking through the writeup, though it is succinct, I felt relieved. As I am often convinced about wilfully opening up ourselves to words is one of the difficult task to bear with, at least for the period of nearing the end of it. I have nothing to offer, except what we take from each other. To quote Mario Vargas Llosa, the writer whom I'm fond of through his columns and interviews but haven't touched his single work yet, "I write because I'm unhappy". And I believe, to sum it again, in words, to gauge through these layers of uncertain times. And to reach somewhere, realising at times I did something about it or tried. As I said an hour ago, I have no plan or a scheme of things to sketch out a post, but I could fathom that cloak of emptiness to render myself into words, so it is only up to a near chance as it all takes but one step amidst sordidity and sanguinity. Apropos of nothing, my laptop still making the irky noise.
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