Though I was a science student my interest lingered around literature mostly. I started writing poems during my high school and my limited number of friends would read and appreciate them. I would be happy because I wanted to be a writer someday. I thought I did write good enough to write brilliant something but I was obviously being naive.
It was me alone in my class but after passing out when I stepped into the world of social sites of Facebook and Google+ I realized there were thousands who were far more better than me writing beautiful poetry and stories with surprising concepts. My writings compared to that were merely weak attempts. The confidence I had no more worked. I could no more write, always comparing mine with some other piece of someone else. I didn’t let anyone else to read my diary lest I became their topic of laughter.
But like all I too have motivations in my introvert lifestyle. Rudra, one day he simply said when we were just sitting silent on the bench in the park.
“You know you can write only when you can be yourself”
I looked up at him. He nodded.
“Yes, stop comparing with others.” And he took the diary from my bag.
He opened the first page, one of my poems when I started writing. “Read it he said.”
“Look at those little stars –
All over the sky,
At the dark hours of night,
“Now say some other lines with the same meaning”
“What do you mean? “ He gets really weird sometimes.
He shrugged. “You know what I mean!”
Those little buds in the dark sky
Twinkles as they blossom every night,
They watch over the world –
As the kids go to their beds with their fairy lights.”
“What?” It was irritating. I really was not getting his trick.
“Didn’t you notice as you keep writing you can come up with better lines? The earlier was quite childish and the lines are now more matured”
“Is it? I am not so sure.”
“Of course it is. Don’t you see you are developing because you kept writing and you can improve only when you keep practicing?”
“You don’t write now because you are afraid.” He said quiet bluntly.
“I am not afraid.” A weak defence though.
“Of course you are. You are expecting a lot from yourself without putting any efforts for it. Do your work , you will know the difference between yesterday and tomorrow.” He was obviously making his point.“No one writes great in a day. Art needs practice and so does words.”
I laughed. How could so easily he explain the answers I need to have.
He looked at me and our eyes met. I really love those.
“You can do…” and he came closer with his hand around my waist.
The dusk was cooling down with the wind. Such a beautiful evening. I know now what I have to do.