New Beginning

 The wind raged and the once hushed landscape was clamoured by the roars of the surging clouds. The serenity of the setting was marred by a sudden jolt of a cataclysm. And all was devastated, owing to an abrupt alteration in the natural setting and an introduction of elements that created a tumult in the ambiance.
 As I passed through the preliminary security check, the commotion and mourning in the air of that devastated landscape was not enough to describe the state of my heart and mind. I walked further away from the people waving back at me. My hands grasped firmly at the kerchief that mother had tenderly handed me for wiping my tears and my heart sank into an abyss as I related the fleecy touch of the cloth with the touch of  soft loving hands of my mother. I turned around for a last sight of the people who held various pieces of my heart and my vision blurred by teary eyes, spotted the moist eyes of faces saddened with a melancholy of separation and brightened by the pride of my upcoming venture. And the traces of gleam on the faces was enough to light the trench within to help me clamber gradually out of the abyss of grief, therefore, for a few minutes I strode to spoor my ambitions and fly closer to my dreams.
 The bright white lights of the Civil Aerodrome, Vadodara helped me make my way to a new world I was heading to. I was alone amidst a range of passengers who were to board the same flight as mine and yet move onto different directions in life. I began experiencing brief episodes of gloom, excitement and fear and due to all the befuddling emotions, my senses turned dormant. I mechanically traversed through various sections of the airport alone, completing all formalities, before I could ascend into the air.
 Time fleeted and I found myself making way through the aisle of the jet, my guitar banging at the seats, as though it were making efforts to pull back at me and pleading to me to not leave the land that raised me. I tugged at the belt of the guitar cover to align it such that it could safely move through the aisle.

Pic Courtesy: Google Images

 I took my seat, still struggling with mixed emotions, looked through the window of the airplane that revealed its enormous wings as it prepared to take off . The airplane started scaling heights, I saw that I was amidst the clouds that tried piercing through the glass to embrace me and solace my distressed heart. As the altitude increased, I began regaining my senses and started thinking of how I was flying away from everyone. The thought seemed too lugubrious to control my lacrimal glands. I felt like I was being separated from my own self, I was departing from a part of my identity and for those moments, the heartache and agony were indescribable. Nothing seemed right to me and I felt like I could not face it all anymore. My body was trembling from within, my heart crying from within, my mind crafting its own fears and my soul feeling the eternal affliction.

Never in my life had I faced such a condition wherein there is no one around to wipe my tears, no one around to at least ask me what was wrong. I felt like screeching to ask everyone around to take me back to my parents' laps. But with teary eyes I could only see stranger faces that were preoccupied by their own griefs and elation. And with this thought, I went on crying until I was tired of being sad. I had not known that there was ever a crying threshold, but somehow I had reached it. And at that point my mind convinced itself to let other emotions rule over. When the airplane reached the cloud covered zone, I found the hidden spark of excitement within me. I tried telling myself that now I was to reach a place I always wished to go to. I had worked harder in High School to chase the dream of studying at the one of best places in the world, and when I was getting a chance to attend such an institution, rather than feeling gratified, I was mourning the separation from my family.
 Not rhetorically here, Muma bird had let me fly by myself so that I could enjoy all the wonders of nature that wave at me and I could independently cross all confinements of mankind. This idea let a wave of rhapsody flow within me, making everything seem exalting and novel.
 I was aware that I had a long journey ahead and that I would be alone in the world until I reach my destination. But being alone helped me silently introspect and also scrutinize the places that come by.  I was not only travelling to discover new places, I thought, but also to discover a new person in me in all those places. I met numerous people at the stop overs- Mumbai and London-, befriended them and exchanged ideas, letting my own perceptions mingle with those of others so that I could view the world from different dimensions.

Canada

Anon, getting through the jaded journey when I landed in Canada, all I could see was unknown faces on an unknown land. I searched for familiarity and I realized that except me, my luggage and English language, everything was different. I sauntered across the airport in fatigue by following signs and bribing my feet to keep going by promising them hours of rest once I reach my destination. Amiable immigration officers got all my legal documents issued and then I could officially call Canada "home" for the next five years. Though I didn't belong to this place, but I hoped that I would get a feeling of belonging here soon.
 As I reached the exit of the airport, I found two familiar faces who had come to pick me up and provide me with shelter in the unknown habitat. They greeted me with a warm hug and as I felt their presence, I was too exhausted to feel anything else but a sigh of relief. I assured myself that very soon I would be able to give in to my fatigue and sleep for hours without being barraged by extremities of emotions and worries.
 I was then, in no time, on a queen sized snug bed, covered by a cozy blanket. Having closed my eyes, I still couldn't believe that I was on a different land, miles away from my parents. Every time in the past, when I had been as tired, my mother had put me to sleep in her loving arms. Not withstanding, I was so wearied  that I couldn't cry or crave for love. So I let my sleep take over my body and went into my dreamland. But this dreamland did not have fairies, it had my parents with me holding my hands as I stepped ahead with my tiny legs. And I knew that they will always be there with me as I learn to live a new life, as I advance in my field of study and as I discover my newer and updated version everyday.

The Revival

 The amber bluish flame that bragged about its own brilliance, swayed on its place, dancing on the melodies of the silent stream of wind. There was the molten wax that was silently fueling the flame by mixing with the oxygen in the surroundings. The radiance of the candle, touched all hearts with its brightness until a seemingly cruel creature imprisoned the candle in a bell jar. And within seconds, the flickering flame mumbled its last words with a trail of smoke that disappeared in the vacuum.

 This Science experiment demonstrated to us by our teacher seemed to resonate with my condition in life for the past few months. There was a time when my inner voice whispered streams of words that flowed out on paper to shape up a decent piece of writing. And I was able to feel the radiance of the words that sparkled on the papers and electronic screens. But gradually, life started imprisoning me in a unique kind of a jar. The concealed jar wasn't made up of conventional materials like glass or porcelain, it was accidentally invented out of an emotional barragement on life. The anxieties and tensions of life being the foundation of the jar, the various other layers included all other befuddling emotions. And the vacuum that the invisible jar of life created, soon extinguished the flames of my inner voices.

 The befuddling emotions included a kind of complex that made me feel that my voice never mattered to the world because everything I had in mind was written somewhere at some point of time. So in the quest to do away with commonplace ideas and find a new thought to create a masterpiece, I wasnt even able to put down on paper simple everyday ideas. I felt like I had fallen in an abyss that led to nothing. My thoughts were making infinitely long ladders to help me get out of this condition. But the fear of hackneyed phrases and cliches was collapsing the steps of the ladders as soon as I begin scaling them.

 That is when I stumbled upon a term "Writer's Block": a condition that could affect writers or people with a penchant for writing while they are putting an effort to produce a marvelous piece of work. The vacuum that is generated in the mind during Writer's Block seemed to be the same like mine. The short film by Brandon Polace helped me understand all aspects of this condition. Anxiety, fear, restlessness, uselessness and such negative notions of life seem to dominate all positive ideals when this Block affects an individual. So by googling about this condition and trying to look for ways to get rid of it, I realized that I wasn't the only person suffering due to the block.

 The remedies like Brute Force or Calming Mind, did not work for me. The more I was trying to dig through the layers of my mind to find a passage to help thoughts flow out fluently, the more was the Block layering sediments to obstruct clear thinking. But gradually as I tried to find the answers within myself, I realized that the external factors played no role in putting me into this condition. I realized that "My negative thoughts were blocking my creative thoughts".

 The cogitations about how people would judge me on the basis of my writing or whether critics would really find my pieces appealing or in the most negative sense- whether anyone would ever bother to read what I write, all these polluting thoughts were hampering with the positive ambiance of my mind. The reason why I was striving for a masterpiece was pretty simple after these realizations. The fear of being mocked by people, the fear of not sounding authentic to people, the fear of my writing not being able to reach to people, all  these fears revolved around the most commonplace word and being : people. I was trying to keep in mind how my thoughts would be received by people rather than keeping in mind how I wanted people to think through my writing.

 All these thoughts were trapping me in a nutshell and I was just procrastinating every time I pick up a pen or open a Word Doc or an online writing space. I was just trying to avoid opportunities to write, which was a sheer contrast to my earlier way when I would grab all positions that would give me a chance to put forth my views.

PC: Google Images

 But once I understood all this, I just decided that if I want to gain back a grip on writing, I am not going to think about the end result, rather I would focus on thoughts and techniques that could help me enhance my creativity. And as soon as I pledged to focus on words and contemplations rather than readers and comments, I started gaining back the power from the source that voiced my inner voice. And again the thoughts started flowing in rhythm creating words, sentences, paragraphs and this article which I would be posting after six long months of having given up writing.

 The candle did not possess a soul and hence, it did not rekindle itself in the Science experiment. But just as Rene Descartes said that Humans possess a soul and this soul sometimes controls the material body (a machine) , I feel that all the while I suffered with the confusing and depressing Block, my soul was not intervening with my machine body. But as soon as it took control over the machine through self realization, unlike the candle ,I could rekindle myself and light the vacuum of darkness and get rid of it. (Though this theory of Dualism has been updated and replaced with modern ideologies, I could use it to justify my revival.)

 This kind of spirit that I have imbibed now is something that could help anyone to revive from mild psychological conditions. When a blank and confused state begins bothering us, just trying to find the roots of the state could help us find a way and maintain a healthy mental life. Overcoming such conditions would allow more pieces of  work to become a part of the Creative Dimension of our world.