How I Made a Long Blog Post About My Trip?

A few days ago, Naima, author of Global Unison and one among my good friends from the blogging circle, has asked me to pen down further about the experiences of the trip I had to Malappuram with my sister on January, 2015. Excuse me for the delay I’ve made to update the content here though; I’m extremely glad to update it at least by now as I’m outdated here nowadays due to some other reasons­­—trying to give least attention on cyber world, new books collection of random genres, been busy with the Silicon Valley 1st season and the Game of Thrones series at the same time, working as a freelance content crafter, boring college schedules and a few more other personal stuffs. Anyway, if you’re there, then this post is for you, Naima. Hope you’ll love reading it.

So you wanted to know how I made a long post about the trip and what I felt while writing down the personal experiences of mine in Malappuram together with Revu, my sister. I’m unsure whether I got you right or not, still here is the answer for your queries in simple words.

Generally, I don’t prefer to write lengthy blog posts— I admit that I’m not good at expressing long fictional thoughts—because I felt that it doesn’t give a better reading experience to my valuable readers. Then how should I go for descriptive takes? Here is the 10 major factors for which I give importance while writing down the contents devoid of any limitation on the word count.

When you write regarding anything in real, which you’ve already experienced, then you wouldn’t care about what you’re writing. Because you’re not lying, but you’re penning down what you already know, what you had been through in a few minutes, hours or days ago.

I didn’t think of the grammatical errors while working on that specific post; it was actually a written draft. I was in a perfect mood for writing.

Choose a better notepad to be installed in your Smartphone so that you can scribble your ideas, maybe a mere thought, whenever something hits your brain at anytime.

Which one is your favorite application for typing the texts? Word or Evernote? Mine is Word as I’ve been a Word user since I started blogging 3 year ago.

Don’t think too much. Just write. Write. Go on writing.

Play your favorite music in low voice for a better ambiance. Don’t try to restrict yourself in order to complete the work within one sit. It’s your time. And do whatever you want in between.

Choose the best time for writing. It varies from person-to-person. Maybe, for you, its right after a hot coffee in the evening, but mine is during late midnight.

Read. Read as much as you can— books of any sort ranging from Goosebumps to your favorite author’s recently published work.

If you’re done with the draft, then 90% of the work is finished.

Go through whatever you’ve written in the draft, make necessary changes, show it to somebody who has similar interest on reading and writing, and publish it whenever you want.

Now, regarding the other experiences I had in Malappuram apart from what I’ve written in the blog post.

I had such a lovely time with Revu in Malappuram after a long time, Naima. And again, I understood from the trip that train journeys are far more reliable and refreshing ones while comparing with the other means of transport in India. Travelling is the easiest way— a much needed change that everybody seek in their lives at every point— to enjoy and find happiness at wherever you go. It enlightens our minds. It makes us feel more real. I know that I don’t have to mention this all to you, Bird of passage. You know it. Yes, you know what I’m trying to say.

Like you’ve mentioned, here are some more pictures we have captured during the trip:

In return to this dedicated post, I would like to know why you have asked me to write a post of this kind. Hope you’ll get back to me soon.

To the rest of the world, have a happy weekend from my side. Enjoy each and every moment. Move forward. Never give upon your dreams to conquer the depths of happiness in life. 

Related content:

Photo Credits: Insight Blog

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Nirbhaya- My Sister

She’s a young Indian daughter

She loved her parents like living gods

She’d her unending dreams to conquer

She’d her illimitable choices of freedom

She worked for the poorest ones

She studied to rise and shine

She lived for what she learnt

She roamed around New Delhi, that night

She’d enjoyed the moments of night’s charm

She’s on her way back to entire darkness

She’s reacted powerfully, but nobody cared

She’s slaughtered for her laughter

She’s brutally handled by a group of morons

She’s left at the corner, helplessly to endure the pains of scars

She’s determined not to leave even at the worst

She’s survived to ascend and catch her life

She hadn’t even had time to withstand it, any longer

She’d left, kept everybody in her wing

She is a sacred light for the humanity

She is my sister, a woman whom I respect the most

She is Nirbhaya, a dotted signature in my blood’s diary

Note: “When being raped, she shouldn’t fight back. She should just be silent and allow the rape. Then they’d have dropped her off after ‘doing her’, and only hit the boy.”, Mukesh Singh, one among the molesters of Nirbhaya case, stated on a documentary, which highlights the facts of incident happened on 16th December 2012, covered by Leslee Udwin, BBC.

“Will you do the same against a woman from whom you’ve gained the right to be alive?”

I don’t dare whether he’ll either say yes or no, it might be a yes!

Photo Credits: I’m Clueless Blog

Departure

I want to make sure that she wouldn’t walk away from me, that she doesn’t have the courage to leave me. I was astonished to understand her so many times in the past; I can’t understand her, anymore; she knows me very well. Life shrinks, mesmerizes and impregnates with the reverie petals of love. It reciprocates and makes me crazier to trespass into a history of story to be conquered from one’s lifeline; a story of my own rambling days in which no extra characters are included; a story of I and she expressing the light, chaste revelations of our love. A dreamy-fiery island covered by the unsettled clouds aloft our heads says it all. It gives me a hope for forgetting the hauntingly moments of departure beneath it. Because when we’re under the serenity of such erratic clouds, we’re hiding away from every other emotions except the ideal pace of love and its deception to amplify an invincible life of us.

Photo Credits: Tumblr`

Be A Writer

“….yea!”

“So what do you want me to become in life?”

“I want you to become a writer.”

“Writer?”

“Yes! Why not?”

“C’mon..! Do you think I’m a good writer who could write down on kinda dramatic story plots, anymore?”

“Yeah! Trust me. You’re good at it. But you don’t know how good you’re at it.”

“To my knowledge, a writer is someone who copies ideas from what he’s been observing from the infinite nature, regardless whether it’s true or not, and explain its meanings thoroughly with the help of any words which are entangled to his insights and fantasies to make it readable for others. Do you really think I’m good at it?”

“Yes! I do…”

“I don’t think I’m….. You know, it’s not that easy like you think.”

“Of course, it’s not that easy like you think. But it would easy for you. Don’t question me further. Can you do what I said? I really wish to see you as a writer. Think how would I feel to be known as your love- as a writer’s love.”

“…may I know why are you saying so?”

“I’m saying so because you know how to write about me. Our love. Our memories. Our feelings. Our emotions. Our experiences. Our life. You don’t lack any words to express it; you already know what you’ve to write down. Why’re you thinking too much then?”

“Are you asking me to pen down about us and get it published for attracting others to share our story? Did you actually mean it?”

“Nope! You’ve mistaken. I told that I want to see you as a writer and hence you must be…. Will you?”

“What if I say NO?”

“If you say NO, then it’s your decision. It wouldn’t change anything happening in between both of us. It doesn’t matter whether you become a writer or not. What does matter to me the most is your love on me. You would always remain as the wonderful hubby of mine.”

“You’re my sweetheart. And I know our life would be more happy if I become a writer for you. But I dare to write on anything other than you, My love. It’s just your thoughts in me that keeps me moving forward. It’s your love on me that makes me alive. You’re my Eve and I’m your Adam, who live to love for each other in our world. We have had faced a lot of topsy-turvy situations and overt chaos holding our hands together in life. Our bond of love still preserves a charisma of that same passion to be alive together. Die together. We’ve been like this…”

“…..lost in love for?”

“I don’t know, My love! But we haven’t shared our story to anybody else within this 49 years of succulent life. I want you and you want me always in our story to make it refreshing for our love to cherish till it ends on that final day of happiness, on our bed, crossing our hands together, kissing you, like I always do, staring at my innocent eyes and dream under our polar star’s sight”

“I love you”

“I love you more”

Photo Credits: Tumblr

She Killed My Romance

Hey folks! It seemed I was hiding away from here, and alive there where I’m trying to adore more of my days with the real world rather than the cyber network clinkers. I wanted to be like that since a few months back and I’m working through this phase once when I set out to imbibe more of the imperative sentences from the books I’ve been reading during my insomniac nights. And what I understood was the depths of a canopy which lies inside me. It causes me to explore and find out the actual gist of an individuality of mine; it keeps me going and moving and moving to dream very less often when I’m asleep. But when I’m asleep properly, I watch dreams which entertain me like hell out of the invariant creations.

I still do remember the plot of the dream I had seen last night. It wasn’t simply a dream, I had dreamt of it once earlier before in the class when my tutor was taking Engineering Mathematics, excessively. I couldn’t give up laughing for a while when I opined about it today morning. I was like *** I’d envisioned? Being a studious Engg student in my college, I’d a noble connection with my Mathematics tutor. She envisaged me to submit my assignment at the right time! My grades are neither below average or good, but it’s merely mediocre. She doesn’t care much about me; she has never asked anything straight forwardly to me. Neither do I? Nope! I didn’t… She knew me almost very well through the flash back images of my 1st year at the college. I was a quite brilliant student and she confessed it before me as well once during my 1st yr of Engg. But thereafter, she didn’t…. I didn’t ask her why, but we didn’t…

So, before speaking about what I’d seen last night, I would say I hate her attitude in the class. She mounts up high on the Engg Mathematics Mountain for all those envious creatures in the class and her hypocrisy on people like us is at its stake.  To all those haters of her lectures, she blunts her anger through the internal marks. Her attitude is like even if you’re good at studies, I won’t give you at least the minimum internal marks, a set of marks which has to be given by her, if you’re maintaining a heedless connection with me.  That’s what she does…. She passed out from her University with the University rank holder’s tag. But what’s there in it? What a headily rule she’s been ordering and following? Why couldn’t she afford the right crosses that we merit?

I was looking out through the window of my apartment, that evening! It’s really nice to stare at the darkness beneath the sky when it’s about to rain. I enjoyed looking out through the window of my olden apartment and I sensed the coolness of fresh air offended by the wind shifting all around. You know, this is one among the best time and place to pen down your elegant inborn philosophies and sketch down the flushes of natural rhythm that nature holds and showers on us. I became absolutely stunned and romantic to see the charisma that nature has and I hightailed it outside to take down my feelings to be loved with a nature ahead me.

I exchanged my feelings to be here; I enthralled my passion in the rain; I admired the pleasure it’s given me; I lied on the ground and closed my eyes for hours to get lost in my nature; I smelled the fragrance of wet soil; I sensed that my body is already wet; I wanted to have more fun with the nature; I lied there…

Suddenly, I came to hear someone shouting at me on the rain. She tried to make me awake from my love making; her voice was so familiar for me. I tried to open my eyes, but I didn’t want to… She raised her voice up against me; she made me awake and I painstakingly stood before her. She was shouting at me. She shouted at me like I’ve harmed her. I felt so disgusted to be there. I wanted to know why did she came here? What made her shouting at me in such a rude manner?

“Rahul…! Did you keep your Mathematics Assignment 2?”

“Excuse me?!”

“……your Mathematics Assignment…?

….you won’t get your internal marks! You’ll fail for the University Exam. Why do you look like a dumb? Why aren’t you getting me?”

I kept mum! I didn’t say anything. But I asked her! I asked her how dare she came there like Mal comes in Cobb’s dream in Inception. Yes, why did she come here?

“DO YOU HAVE ANY PLANS TO SUBMIT IT? Keep your Assignment today itself! If not, I wouldn’t give….mar….!”, she retorted.

I was so romantic! I didn’t say anything else. I walked backwards to my apartment slowly. I had something in my mind; I wanted to ask her something. I walked… I walked slowly ahead through the flood gifted by my nature to me. I couldn’t accept that she came here. And.. I instantly turned back and asked,

“I’m at the peak stage of Romantic Mountain right now. Shall I write a poetry of my feelingswithinseconds instead of the assignment to be submitted today?”

I asked again, louder.

There was nobody behind me. She cunningly escaped after breaking my romance.

Photo Credits: Tumblr

Anti- Historic Man

“He’s a mystery behind him! Everybody says so; I haven’t ever met him directly, although I also believe in what others believe.”

“I’d a photograph that I’ve taken together with him last year at Marais. I missed it somehow a month before…. He hugged me before he left. That made an uttermost peace in him that still shines since that day…..”

“He is a criminal with a loyal mind! The conspiracies he’s made to kill the rules of society are unbeatable… He’s done everything alone and that’s one of his rules of living in an hypocratic society”

“C’mon! Never keep on asking queries regarding him. He’s a white street-dog who always follows him. Of course, he knows that he’s a supreme power in him that nobody among have. Neither you nor I know it. But he is so special, indeed!”

“You could indubitably feel it while talking to him! I met him once so coincidentally while I was heading back to home after spending my wallet for some weekend’s FUN. He was on his bicycle, singing Gibson’s Only in My Dreams of 80’s. A black dog was also following him. I was a little drunk, too. I suppose, he noted me at a distance itself under the street light’s gleam. He stopped his bicycle right in front of me and asked to sit on the carrier so that he could drop me at my home which is merely 3 kms apart. I tried to depart for not revealing out my sanity; I shouted at him from the kick of what I’d. Eventually, he made me under his control through his singing. He rode the bicycle with my fatty ass on the back. Slowly, I’d given partial attention to him; that short-conversation changed everything. The way he talks… It kept me as an avid listener on the carrier behind him,  professing complete silence to know what he’d been telling… It changed me; it changed my life; I’m more happy than what I was. He is the man: miracle man with those mysterical attitude.”

“Don’t worry! You’re not gonna find him from anywhere out here soon. He’s insane; in case if you find him, keep on asking whatever questions you’ve in mind and be a brave heart to be one of his beloved follower. Even if you can’t, you’ll definitely become…. That’s him; a living God…”

“Okay! Don’t believe him. People simply praise for the good terms and conditions they’ve with this man. For me, he’s an immortal man with a lot of happiness and energy in him; it makes others happy as well. I don’t believe in anything more or less other than this about him.”

Photo Credits: Google Images

An Egg

It’s too hard to break this barrier! It’s really hard to break it and get freed from where I’m… I tried it. I tried a lot. But I couldn’t; I’m not that strong to do it. I could listen to them. I could readily listen to what’s going on outside this complicated blockade. Mama…. I know her; most of the times, I sleep so peacefully under the warmth she gives me. But when I’m awake, I couldn’t see anything else other than this dotty glue surrounding me. It’s so dirty, I must say. My sparkling eyes are always wet with this stewed glue! It’s so disgusting.. I wanna go out. For that, I must have to break it. I must break this yellow- No! It’s not white– shell around me and go out to see what’s precisely happening there, not only through the voices, but also through my vigilant eyes, both eyes; I want to see myself. I want to see the whole world, then! I want….. No… I don’t know. Am I right with what I just said to you? Shall I’ve to break it? It’s here where I’m alive rightly at this moment. I don’t know how it’ll be outside! I have listened to most of their calls. But what if they’re not right? What if they’re fake? I’m here! I’m alive here. This is my world, then why should I break it? Why should I go out to see an unreal world, a dusky- wide space that I haven’t ever seen yet? It’ll be so cunning to do so, uh? Yes, it’s… Isn’t it? No, it’s….

Photo Credits: Google Images