The Burnt Ashes

It brings me immense pleasure, to go back to the time when I started writing and why not, it is the most satisfying thing I can think off. I was in 8th standard and it all started with writing a revert letter to my best friend who wrote to me, sharing how she feels on her parents getting separated. Of course it is always hard to be in some body else's shoe, but if we walk then only we come to know how bad it hurts. I could feel her pain, her mental status.

Being an introvert it was an impossible task for me to explain my unrefined thoughts, fearing that people will be judgemental and will not be able match the frequency, my mind used to tune into. I often used to sit in the night by the side of our window gazing at the moon, my heart and mind, in sync with each other, full of questions & curiosity, which was often answered by that poised moon, my turmoiled heart was instantly controlled by that still moon. There were voices which I could only hear in that dead silence. Apart from complaint of my teacher, sibling, parents and friends, there used to be long thankful message everyday in my prayers for bestowing me such a beautiful life and beautiful hearts around me, no matter how ferocious and stubborn I was, for people around, only I and the character of my own world which comprised, of My Beloved Lord Shiva, moon, nature ( I generally used to speak my mind out to them) knew the other side of me. A very composed, humane and a very thankful person who was full of life, always happy and satisfied. Maybe that was just a mantle I was wearing, I never wanted people to know me exactly who was I actually. I know, it was too much at that young age, but I don't know how it all happen or may be I know why and what was in my mind which I will definitely share some other day.

That deep silence of moon took me to some other world, "the world of imagination and creativity". I started writing daily on my school rough notebook but once I was totally into it, I used to wait for December so that I can buy a beautiful new year dairy and I can pen down all my heart in it. I don't know how I followed the pattern of writing with a black pen but that was the rule I followed until I stopped writing.

Oh! Yes. I stopped writing... I now wonder how dumb was I, just thinking that someday someone may read all my life, those 14 dairy were summoned to be burnt brutally. Yes I prayed a lot, my hands were trembling , my heart and mind were fighting with each other but yeah at last that uncontrolled freaky heart was the winner and the hands who were the creator of some beautiful stories were turned into a sinful ravaged bloody beast which turned those white papers into black ashes and I even tried to make those ashes burn until they all particles were in the air. Year later, It now seems I have awakened from a nightmare which has just pulled me out of that deep slumber. And now I, with a big question mark, ask my self WHAT... did you jusssss... ahhhh...Anyways I have lost some beautiful thoughts of my life. Of course , it's in my mind but you can understand how wonderful it's to pen down everything you feel. But yes, good thing is, that the passion is still alive. Whenever there's a pop in my mind I just jot it down sometime on tissue paper, on my phone, paper or whatever I get to write on. The urge to imagine and write is inexplicable, you forget the outer world and suddenly you are an alien who dives in some other world, floating in thoughts, an eternal peace covers you like a big halo.

To my fellow writers, never ever fear of writing your heart out, it's none of our business what others think of it. We write our heart out and that's the beauty of it. You can never make everybody understand, if's and but's will be always there. In fact the more you will be criticised the more you will learn and will move above all meaningless things, above all wrongs and rights.