Why do I write ?

Whom do I write for? Why do I write for? What do I think while drafting something? These subjects always put up whenever I intend to post something.

I scribble usually the silence of my soul, while being on my terrace or the under-prevailing flux on my mind at a deep dark hour of a sleepless night. Thus, to be factual I basically write for myself. I reckon, everybody pours their intrinsic character in the words they prefer to choose for their musing, and perhaps I do the same. I would admit I was apprehensive about taking up blogging initially. May be I lacked confidence to put my words in light of others.  But then I realized its way better that others know me purely on my thoughts and beliefs, unaltered by the fact of my appearance or my sense of humor or any added conformity.

But then, what do I think while drafting a post? Is this relevant? Will this resonate? And then I freeze. Sometimes I delete the draft. Most of the time, I tell myself I’ll come back to it, and it ends upsetting in my dashboard, forever.

To me writing is way more than just blogging, it is like an unusual camaraderie between the writer and its readers, where there is sharing of the known while being unknown.

In a post on the central value of blogging, WordPress founder Mr. Matt Mullenweg talks about how blogging is harder than it used to be — that amidst obsessing over stats, counting Likes, and waiting for comments, we forget about what really counts, like genuine engagement, thoughtful interaction, and focusing on what you truly want to say.

Matt suggests simple, practical advice: write for two people. Write for yourself, and for one other person you have in mind, as if writing them a letter: So blog just for two people.

I admire his evaluation and perhaps, I can make that count.

A Rainy Night

Enthralled and drained, I felt amalgamation of the two simultaneously, as I walked out of the nightclub. It’s been long since I visited a nightclub and when you do it with your friends, the bliss is exponential. As I stepped out of the Dj’s troll, an enticing feeling groped me. I believe it was partially due to the cool breeze, which is always plausible to me, and partially due to the drizzling weather. There is a niche about rain in nights, it usually reduces traffic, and if it’s around 1, the experience is imperative. I wanted to drive in that serenity to experience its sense, so in order of my pursuit I said goodbye to my friends and signed off.

Rain has always been tranquilizing for me and that night was no different, there was calmness on the road, very prudent to be precise, and I drove along it. So here was it………

A drizzling night, damp dark roads, a long drive amidst the crackling clamor of dropping heavens and Mohit Chauhan serenading ‘Boodein’ on the radio, this infamous part of life sometime brings in the most skeptical thoughts to the realm, and it did.

My prolonged drive on that dark road caused invasion of a thought in my radius of perception. Why this road seems to be lonely? These roads are busiest at some point of time of the day, but now seems to be the loneliest. No one wants to be on them forever, rather uses them to feed their own flue. And here they laze, with no point to cherish, no dreams to fulfill, stranded like a whore. Somewhere it depicts a part of human journey, where usually people will leave you as and when their stretch with you falls apart, either by choice or by obligation. May be that is why the greatest quest of our life is to find that one person who’ll stand for you even when you are damp and dark.

Finally I ended up being home, and made an expedition to my room with tired legs and weary mind; I didn’t knew the origin of that sadistic propaganda that suddenly grew on me. I didn’t want to get to bed with these nerves, so what better could it be to quench my thirst of peace with some harmony and restore it with my guitar. Thus, I picked it up ………….

Struming NEW


Fresh start – Fresh thoughts

Thoughts of envy – Thoughts of love

Love inside me – Love expressed

Expressed in anger – Expressed in death

Death is final – Death is new

New in texture – New in color

Color of dreams – Color of eyes

Eyes wide open – Eyes to see

See the future – See the past

Past the present – Past the memories

Memories of pain – Memories of pleasure

Pleasure endured – Pleasure desired

Desired expressions – Expressions of life