Through the Years
I created a digital written space for myself seven years ago in November after a visit to my father's ancestral home in Kottayam, Kerala. The whole intent behind that new and exciting exercise for me, a technologically handicapped girl then, was to document my feelings - what I saw through the eyes of appa, as he revisited the place where he grew up, married my mother and bid goodbye to seek the comforts offered by a city far away.
Years after, today, I seek solace in the fact that this space still remains the place where I express my vulnerability, insecurity, ego, pride, joy, sorrow and emotional and ideological incongruities. There is no place else I'd rather be on a glum, petulant, rainy day, spilling ink over, writing, striking through pages of writings clearly suggestive of a young woman's mental discord. And although gratitude has ceased to be an everyday ritual, on days like these, I take a moment from everything that keeps me busy and scrawl in neat cursive, "Thank You!"
In this process of writing, where I record my thoughts within a journal first, I am usually reminded of their pettiness as I type into the computer, later. The initial haste leaves little or no space for rational thinking, because truth be told, human emotions are hardly ever rational. And mine are no different. As I read through them a second time, I realise how raw and untamed these thoughts are. How momentary some are, how, like the changing phases of the moon, they take a different shape every now and then. But then again, there was a commitment I made myself seven years ago - to keep writing, to be honest to my soul that longed for its myriad stories to be heard and retold in their pristine form.
And so I write again today, keeping my word to a soul that trusts me to keep creating, keep writing, no matter how many new moons may pass. And to all those who take the time and effort to read what I write, especially in a time where articles are savoured for their brevity, how do I contain it in two words of THANK YOU?
Years after, today, I seek solace in the fact that this space still remains the place where I express my vulnerability, insecurity, ego, pride, joy, sorrow and emotional and ideological incongruities. There is no place else I'd rather be on a glum, petulant, rainy day, spilling ink over, writing, striking through pages of writings clearly suggestive of a young woman's mental discord. And although gratitude has ceased to be an everyday ritual, on days like these, I take a moment from everything that keeps me busy and scrawl in neat cursive, "Thank You!"
In this process of writing, where I record my thoughts within a journal first, I am usually reminded of their pettiness as I type into the computer, later. The initial haste leaves little or no space for rational thinking, because truth be told, human emotions are hardly ever rational. And mine are no different. As I read through them a second time, I realise how raw and untamed these thoughts are. How momentary some are, how, like the changing phases of the moon, they take a different shape every now and then. But then again, there was a commitment I made myself seven years ago - to keep writing, to be honest to my soul that longed for its myriad stories to be heard and retold in their pristine form.
And so I write again today, keeping my word to a soul that trusts me to keep creating, keep writing, no matter how many new moons may pass. And to all those who take the time and effort to read what I write, especially in a time where articles are savoured for their brevity, how do I contain it in two words of THANK YOU?
Comments
Post a Comment