A bundle of contradictions, fickle, idealist and insomniac | lover of the written word and bibliophile | beautifully flawed | hopelessly whimsical | thrives on cheesecake, ice-cream and chocolate therapy | craves the hills and a crimson sky
A content editor by day, a reader at night, I derive immense comfort from words. Reading them and stringing them together. I write what I cannot articulate orally. I write when I feel that no one will listen to me. I write when I have trouble sleeping at night.
Or as Orhan Pamuk elucidated beautifully:
“Why do you write? I write because I have an innate need to write. I write because I can’t do normal work as other people do. I write because I want to read books like the ones I write. I write because I am angry at everyone. I write because I love sitting in a room all day writing. I write because I can partake of real life only by changing it. I write because I want others, the whole world, to know what sort of life we lived, and continue to live, in Istanbul, in Turkey. I write because I love the smell of paper, pen, and ink. I write because I believe in literature, in the art of the novel, more than I believe in anything else. I write because it is a habit, a passion. I write because I am afraid of being forgotten. I write because I like the glory and interest that writing brings. I write to be alone. Perhaps I write because I hope to understand why I am so very, very angry at everyone. I write because I like to be read. I write because once I have begun a novel, an essay, a page I want to finish it. I write because everyone expects me to write. I write because I have a childish belief in the immortality of libraries, and in the way my books sit on the shelf. I write because it is exciting to turn all life’s beauties and riches into words. I write not to tell a story but to compose a story. I write because I wish to escape from the foreboding that there is a place I must go but—as in a dream—can’t quite get to. I write because I have never managed to be happy. I write to be happy.”
I ponder excessively. About the mundane, the profound and everything in between. I’m rooted in nostalgia.
Some days are marked by idle rants about Bombay and everything near and dear to me. On some other days, I need blow some steam. On yet some other days, I just HAVE to pen down my thoughts. Akin to a writing exercise. Else I can’t function.
Why c r i m s o n s h a d o w s?
Because sunsets are easily my favorite time of the day. I don’t know why but I find an orange- and crimson-splattered sky rather inspirational. It never ceases to remind me of a happier time.
The picture in the header is courtesy Shamik Patel. Find more of his work here: www.myfusionfotos.com.