Where did the words go....?

Day 1:
Its 7am and I try to summon some amount of will to get out of bed.In that state of semi-consciousness,my mind drifts from one thought to another out its own volition.
"the bed feels so nice and comfortable..."
"assignment submission today..."
"the bed feels so nice and warm...."
"I hate that bitch...she makes life so painful..."
"this pillow is such a blessing"
"its been so long since i wrote...."
SNAP!!!
The last thought is disturbing and gets me up and about faster than my mom when she wields a ladle

Day 2:

A free hour in college.The class is chaotic to see the least.Fish markets seem more serene in comparison.One group of girls in the front racuously crack lewd jokes and laugh,causing the others to stuff their fingers in their ears as far as they'll go.One gang sits around singing Hindi songs and dancing enthusiastically every now and then.Another bunch of "young ladies" vigourously run up and down the classroom in a bizarre game of "snatch your neighbour's dupatta".
We sit at the back,observing the amusing developments from vantage point and laughing silently.Inspired by the humour,I dig into my bag and produce a notebook which contains half-baked ideas from my previous attempts to write.I sit poised,pen open and ready,waiting for words to rush into my head the way they always do.Only this time they don't.I shake my head once or twice and sit expectantly.Then I try and force the process.It ends in the book being angrily stuffed back in and a scowl settling on my face.

...................

Day 'god-knows-what':

IIT Saarang 2007.Decibels.
T and I are among the few fools who are seated right under the sun.As the sun slowly bakes us, we watch as bands get on and offstage.We make brief comments and nod occasionally.When really good bands play,we 'head-bang' enthusiastically.Inspiration grips me again and I dig in T's bag till I unearth a pen.An abandoned music sheet gets picked off the floor.I make notes about the good songs and the bands.When asked, I say its for the new post on my blog.

At the end of the day,the paper is forgotten in T's bag and the bag dutifully returned to its owner.



Its frustrating,this writer's block...the very thought of sitting with a paper and pen or a blank word document brings on the emptiness. A complete lack of words. With it comes a sense of inadequacy. There's definitely no dearth of subjects or ideas. On the contrary, there have been too many, all shelved for too long. Now they are nothing but dust ; a gnawing void that eats me everyday. It even makes me a little guilty. Like writing is a duty that I have failed to do. Soon common sense kicks in, says "what nonsense,get a grip and get on with life". I do just that since its rather convenient as well. And the paper remains blank, waiting for someone to make its existence purposeful.