...This is what I write when I have nothing to write...

It was dark when the loud creak of the door woke me up.

Getting back to my senses, I glanced at the wall clock, just opposite to me. It was 2:30 am… and I could feel a sense of grave pain in my right shoulder. Forgetting about it, I tried to get back to sleep, but now and then, I just couldn’t sleep.

Finally, I stood up and walked up to my favorite place in the house – the royal balcony.

Hyderabad appeared so seamlessly quiet. The serene nature, traffic-less roads, no sound apart from an occasional dog howl, twinkling stars, and all this coupled with gentle blowing breeze was an ideal setting. The setting demanded attention because, in our lives, things happen just like that. One moment we think that we are inclined towards something, but the next moment we are in no man’s land. Thinking nothing out of the box, I tried to find ways by which I could have spent the night because sleep had just turned foe to me. Nothing popped into my mind, and eventually, I decided to do the thing I loved doing when I just couldn’t’ get sleep… ...Writing…

Writing had become my hobby since school days and always gave me immense pleasure whenever I crafted my thoughts into an asset of writing. I sat down at the table on the balcony and switched on my laptop, hoping to rekindle the same old feeling. To my amazement, the pivotal question yet to be answered was… What to write?

Apart from being a hobby, writing was always a very moody thing for me. A story at times took me a single day, but many even went on till months. Being confused, I opened all my previously written files and started browsing through them, hoping that I would get something interesting. To my utter notice, I saw that there were extracts written about almost all phases of my life. Getting further confused, I opened a few of them to see what I had written, and the result was the same… Confusion …

And then it clicked…

Time is a never-ending paradigm we follow. It gives us things, takes away something, yet never falls short of it. As time moves on, the multiple turnovers of events happening around us; make a significant change in our lives. Things never remain the same. One moment we are pondering over something, and the very next moment, the world just moves farther away from us. We, too, never remain the same. The various changes in and around us develop us drastically from a small child to matured personnel. We keep on asking ourselves… Why can things not be the way they were? Why can’t time be lenient enough to let us go back and help us in reliving what we have experienced? I do, and I know many will also agree with me when I say that whatever one loses in their life is something that God gives them in some alternate form. We get frustrated, get annoyed at regular instances, but all comes to us in small packages… because God wants us to be regularly happy… not once but countless times. That’s why he gives us everything in bits and pieces. Whatever happens in one’s life is a script that has a proper beginning and a fitting ending… Everything is defined; we just need to find it…

Now, why is all this so relevant to talk about? One question that can prop in anyone’s mind is why all this happens, why humankind can’t exercise control, and try to make things the way they were… The only answer that comes out is Silence… no one knows… we accept it and live on.

Time changes and changes the person too… we can never be the way we were. The things that make us behave or be like the way we were are our memories… They are always a part of us. The only problem is we tend to forget them, replace them with fresh ones because our consciousness is not of infinite capacity. The night demanded something like this. It made me reminiscent of so many things that I just couldn’t choose one… However, as we say, it isn’t over till the Fat Lady sings.

Here is where it all clicked…

Somehow years back, there were things that I never wrote down, something that I left unattended, things that formed a very pivotal part of my life. Being a person who loves to cherish his memories, I try keeping a note of all happy and sad memories of my life. However, there was one phase of my life which I never thought of writing. It may be because, to date, I never thought that there were many reasons to write about it. I always considered that phase as the perfect phase of my life because everything that happened during that phase was something that never hurt me too much… it ever made me feel that things can never go wrong. Nothing was lost, nothing made me think that I am unlucky; nothing forced me into doing things…

All I did was just to live the phase, and things just came in front of me to get grabbed.

All I had were small remnants of those days written here and there. Thinking about it, I opened all my old diaries and started searching for the segregated fragments, and to my utter surprise, I had each one of them. Getting all of them together, I began my work of writing. It’s a famous saying that when nostalgia creeps in, nothing can enter you… all that exists is love, care, and happiness.

The gentle breeze was still blowing, the night was still serene, and the canvas was set for me…

 The only problem I had was how to start it… How to begin? The scenes, the episodes, the settings were defined, but the start was unknown because there was neither a proper beginning nor a fitting end…

Only abruptness existed… All that existed were just fragments of information, pieces of my life that were essayed through the various encounters.

Concentrating hard every second, I typed the first line with a smile on my brimming face…

It was dark when the loud creak of the door woke me up.

…And then the rest was history