She's in love with him. He's in love with her. He fell in love with She, and they're in love with each other now.
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me for the delay I’ve made to update the content here though; I’m extremely glad to update it at least by now as I’m outdated here nowadays due to some other reasons—trying to give least attention on cyber world, new books collection of random genres, been busy with the Silicon Valley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.
Photo Credits: Insight Blog
I’d a dream of killing myself a few days ago. I tried. I tried my level best to do it. I looked at the clock hanging on the wall. It was 00:59 in the morning. I was heartbroken. I was all alone. I was in a mood to hide somewhere: an unknown place of seemly atmosphere which was completely exposed to nature, unbounded by any certainty in rules. I was astonished to accept my self as dumb enough to live in a busiest corner of the world. I was hoping for a change to happen while counting down my footsteps everyday; a change in me would have given a change in the whole new world, too; I was a part of your world as well. I was familiar regarding my absence in the same world a few days later; maybe an year or 2, after that I would remain as a memory in everybody’s mind; nobody would think of me unless and until they realize that once I existed here. I wasn’t a coward, but I was someone who smiled at others most of the times in a day even though I had forgotten to talk to them. I didn’t want to make them feel neither good nor bad about me. Why should I? Let them think of it.
I was never afraid of death; I believed on death as a constant follower of birth as nobody could escape from both, regardless whatever you’ve acquired thus far in life. I was quite nervous to die so though; would it pain a lot when I die?
I didn’t find anything wrong while preferring the choice of death. Hence I died. Although it’d given me too much of pain while the life-factor left from my physical body. I liked it once I was out from it. I looked at the clock hanging on the wall, again. It was 1 o’ clock in the morning. I walked in and around my room trying to remember something I’d forgotten- it’s my journal! I tried to take my journal which was kept under the pillow. But my head was resting upon the pillow. I tried to wake my body up so many times. I couldn’t do it as it was so heavy for me to raise up.
My journal! I promised myself earlier before and written down in the journal that I wouldn’t die. But I did. I’d to erase that “not” with “would” and make it “would”. That’s the only thing I wanted to do before I leave.
It started attracting me- my death! I’d been moving away from my journal. I couldn’t write it down anymore. I’m leaving… My time had come; I really wanted to stay here for completing it, or at least to erase that single world. It’s my time.. I didn’t want to… I’m leaving… With a sinuous scar of it.
Photo Credits: Tumblr
A lost word from her
Has a story to be told
On his fake love.
Photo Credits: Tumblr
As the wind swifts away
From her, she draws a ray
Of sunshine to fall over him,
Cuddling the shadow’s rhyme,
For hiding beneath the crime,
A passionate art of succulent
Drops killing his perennial scent
Who am I?
Who is He?
Words of mystery
Lying behind the story
Embolden them, later
Under the beam’s width
She’s his eerie glory,
An untainted missy,
Comes out from a sleek
And an agile wind’s glint
Following his shortest foot-step
Until he raises her up,
On her hips
Inside a mightily prison
And love’s their reason.
Across the blue ocean
They see a lean,
Fervent charisma of light
Pouring down the brightest
Ray to fall over them,
Bind them, unite them
As the strongest image, anew.
Photo Credits: Tumblr
“So what do you want me to become in life?”
“I want you to become a 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
..that word tells its meaning
as I’m curiously sitting
next to the timeless sea
with white pages and a plea
owned by an old man
written in his 80’s
using some idle words.
Photo Credits: Tumblr