It has been
some time since I wanted to do this. It’s just strange that I chose this night
to do so. There had come a time where I
had made up my mind about my first blog-post in prose. I had many things to
say. I don’t remember most of them right now. It was a few months ago.
It has
been a while, since some friends of mine have been asking me, why I don’t write
in prose? I have never been able to explain them that, prose, sometimes are too
saturated and sometimes too inadequate for me to express. I can’t take my
liberties.
I’m not
saying that it is easy to interpret, all I’m saying is it is too hard to be cryptic
in a prose, because often the previous line gives birth to the next one. The
thought pushes out another thought which matures into a complete idea.
It thus creates a chain which one can deduce
from one point to the other. For me it
is too chaotic a symmetry. I had been reading a few pieces in prose, recently,
which were disguised poetry. I have also seen cases, vice-versa.
When I was
in school, I hated reading poems. The first thing that I used to do when my new
set of course books used to arrive was to read all the stories and leave all the
poems. This habit of mine resembled another habit, where I used to eat all the cashews
and leaving out all the raisins. I still do it. In fact the first piece that I
had ever written was a short story, which, I’d like to put up in a while.
The first
poem that I had written was I was in the 11th standard and my
English teacher had insisted me to write a poem for the school magazine. I had written
the poem quite hastily. But it is still one of my favourite poems.
I have not
been neglecting prose. I just thought that through poetry I can say whatever I
feel in a more cryptic manner. Through poetry I can put my thoughts open to
interpretations.
To be
honest I was scared of writing in prose. I AM scared of writing in prose. My hands were
shivering when I started writing this post. They are a lot calmer now. I knew that if I start writing in prose, I
will start to mirror my emotions and views quite blatantly. In poetry I could
just say something and then hope (read pray) people would interpret it
differently. Obviously I failed.
It is hard
to present the hidden words literally. It feels naked. But I figured that all
of us are always naked. All the time. Wearing cloths and hiding thoughts don’t
make us Not-Naked. The others always know it’s hidden out there. Some choose to
ignore it. But at times, in spite of the diffidence, you wish they could see you. They do, and they
don’t.
Anyway, I
chose to write prose was for a specific reason. With the recent turn of events,
I just had to write in prose. It was necessary. The reason would soon be known.
