Hands that rock the cradle of everyday often have to bear empty patches of static nerves, a suspension of creativity from fingertips is projected to ends of the pen and we tremble with the realization that our minds, as open to words and thoughts and expressions too many as they are , have temporarily shut down and failed to produce those of our own. Where does creativity go in the face of this realization? We ask ourselves and witlessly submit to the elements governing us and beyond our immediate control. I maintain still that judicious reading and writing, selflessly pursued, only ends up advancing our art of the mind and in no time, ideas that we were in the process of mining for optimum quality and originality, emerge right in front of us and dispel all fears of a dry spell, a writer's draught, if I may call it. The best words and expressions are always there, running the gamut of our final commitment and are destined to be placed exactly as we had envisioned them, where they belong.
"Everything falls into place in the end somehow" is the sentiment. It's reassuring to share that stasis of any kind then is nothing other than a lump that we, with constant exercising of our industrious output, excise and not let overgrow . This interval of patient scribbling helps us gather our wits together and write. A similar predicament had come visiting yours truly and I knew I had to turn to the many years of writing in my personal notebooks and raid their contents that had been responsible for the creative breakthrough that summoned itself in 2015 as I freely let loose my stream of words here on this platform. Now I have talked about the legacy of creation and writing in this essay collection over and over again and in the many essays following I will honour that credo by reviving my early, personal vault of words, expressions and turns of phrases by giving them permanent refuge here. They are works that espoused a start, an evolutionary spirit of practice, fearless opinions and self esteem that putting pen to paper automatically bestows on a restless soul with a mind of its own. Who knew then that this anonymous line of written profusion on my part would very gradually translate to the wattage of merit ( the watt) from pages of my pad( the pad)? That is my series of notebooks and their hidden features finally came of age when the conjunction of spirit and action happened to bring ' WATTPAD' to my rostrum. My inner world has changed and since there has been no looking back for me, I think this is the best time to hark back and spearhead my earlier writings on everything that mattered to me in the arena of popular culture in the many essays to come together.
In this one, 2015's written output prior to my engagement here( I began to circulate my poetry in June of the year) makes way and will definitely help me and you to assess that the art of creation is an ongoing one, always preceded by a backlog of treasures that we value and have the courage to bring to light of day. So here goes the retrospective journey towards my early intimations of growth and expansion of worldviews. I had been writing since 2007 proper, documenting everything that came to my attention in the pantheon of films, music and culture but I commence with the period when it all amassed a maturity, so this transition to getting it published and preserved will come full circle. As I always say, let this one have the hum and melody of words to spur it. In the next part, two films that are hugely underrated will be brought back from my writings on them dated April 2015.
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A LETTERED SOUL: REFLECTIONS ON LITERATURE, CINEMA AND CULTURE .
Non-FictionI have often wondered about the very curdled natures of our opinions so much so that the perch of imagination simply becomes a bystanding abstraction and real thoughts of genuine merit slip between the fingers. That is a human tendency, to beat arou...
