It was more than a year since she wrote those lines and spend time introspecting her work and choices she was making in her life. Everything seemed so blissful and perfect at that moment though she was burying her hankering to pursue her dreams under easily perforated layers of doing something she never realised was not her cup of tea. The first five months of her endeavour turned out to be a cataclysm. She wanted to run off. She even tried to do so. But the fear of being labelled as a loser and quitter and the look of chagrin on her parent's face haunted her and she came back to give it one more shot.
Every morning she woke up with the hope that her day would go as bright as the sunshine. Though the tiny voice inside her head told her she was gonna be broken again. And yes! The day would turn out to be like a clouded sky waiting her to shower tears of dismal. At the end of the week, she snapped, breaking down and wailing it all out. She wanted it all to end. Rather, she wanted to go back to where it all started and change her course to run! But miracles don't really happen. DO they? Even if they do, it didn't seem one was gonna happen in her life. Somehow thinking about what actually made her happy sounded the most sinful and selfish thing she could do in her life and to the people she loved and cared about.
The post breakdown day, she spent taking her mind off her present situation and be lost in the realm of sitcom. She started feeling a little better. By the end of the day, she realised that it wouldn't be that bad if she just tried one more time to try! Here she was; back at square one.
But was she really satisfied with persisting on doing something she wasn't happy about? Doesn't dignity lie in one's own satisfaction and personal happiness than trying to content masses who wouldn't even know whether you ate something; leave aside being aware of the day's menu?
Saturday, February 11, 2012
The choice she made!
"Is it the starting,
Or is it the end?
How did these outlandish things
So easily did blend?"
She looked at these lines which just popped in her mind and were penned down. "Hmmm… Not bad huh? I still need to find better lines following these or else it'll also end up like my previous not so good efforts at sensible poetry."
After a year of experiencing the piercing pressure of studies, the challenge of making the right decision for her future and losing her best friend unaware or the very vindication, she still hasn't lost the nerve to love, trust and most importantly DREAM! She still loves to dream about going to Hogwarts and learning magic or falling for some myth. She is equally interested in metaphysics and the words mysticism as much she envisions about fairies.
"Has this become our habit,
Or just blindly followed trend?"
"No no no!! This is just so not good. These lines just not fall into place. Oh my gosh! How will I ever write something good enough to stand amongst those super duper literary pieces?"
She sat back closing her eyes in a state of introspection. Thinking about the meaning behind the words that her mind weaves into lines that just rhyme. She wonders why do her poems just have a rhyme scheme on the name of literary devices, why not something like irony or satire and why specifically nothing abstract. This did bother her but at the same time she was happy that her work was easily understood by the majority and praised too for the simplicity.
'Poets earn just the bread and not the butter!' This had to be true as she had not seen or heard about any poet who had met with success easily or had lead a lavish enough lifestyle to banter about. But this did not bother her as she had some stable plans in her mind. She had made the decision to study something that could get her bread with butter with an extra of desserts in her breakfast. And carry on with her poems as a something to be done in free time. She didn't consider it to be any disrespect to poetry as she thought that the waste of poetry by being just a personal collection is something insulting for it. For giving it the right place,i.e., a published collection, she had to make money in turn for which her priority had to be the STREAM she chose to study.
But but but she wasn't going the common way there too. 'Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less travelled by, And that has made all the difference.', these lines by Robert Frost has had an impeccable impact on her. So she was never giving in for something the masses chose.
Or is it the end?
How did these outlandish things
So easily did blend?"
She looked at these lines which just popped in her mind and were penned down. "Hmmm… Not bad huh? I still need to find better lines following these or else it'll also end up like my previous not so good efforts at sensible poetry."
After a year of experiencing the piercing pressure of studies, the challenge of making the right decision for her future and losing her best friend unaware or the very vindication, she still hasn't lost the nerve to love, trust and most importantly DREAM! She still loves to dream about going to Hogwarts and learning magic or falling for some myth. She is equally interested in metaphysics and the words mysticism as much she envisions about fairies.
"Has this become our habit,
Or just blindly followed trend?"
"No no no!! This is just so not good. These lines just not fall into place. Oh my gosh! How will I ever write something good enough to stand amongst those super duper literary pieces?"
She sat back closing her eyes in a state of introspection. Thinking about the meaning behind the words that her mind weaves into lines that just rhyme. She wonders why do her poems just have a rhyme scheme on the name of literary devices, why not something like irony or satire and why specifically nothing abstract. This did bother her but at the same time she was happy that her work was easily understood by the majority and praised too for the simplicity.
'Poets earn just the bread and not the butter!' This had to be true as she had not seen or heard about any poet who had met with success easily or had lead a lavish enough lifestyle to banter about. But this did not bother her as she had some stable plans in her mind. She had made the decision to study something that could get her bread with butter with an extra of desserts in her breakfast. And carry on with her poems as a something to be done in free time. She didn't consider it to be any disrespect to poetry as she thought that the waste of poetry by being just a personal collection is something insulting for it. For giving it the right place,i.e., a published collection, she had to make money in turn for which her priority had to be the STREAM she chose to study.
But but but she wasn't going the common way there too. 'Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less travelled by, And that has made all the difference.', these lines by Robert Frost has had an impeccable impact on her. So she was never giving in for something the masses chose.
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