Since days i have been contemplating to write, write to free myself from all the chains that held me back. I think i have quite lost my touch with writing. For many reading is a voracious habit but i have always found myself a bit distant from that great habit. Reading is a great way to put your monsters at rest or maybe for sometime put them in different dungeons. Reading announces us to so many different universes at the same time that we loose touch with the train of thoughts that keeps riding and riding and riding. I, myself, find calm in writing, an elite habit i guess or what i like to call it. But since centuries i have indulged in writing poetry that sometimes i think prose must be given a revision.

Over years i have tried to maintain diaries only to burn them at the end and have had the habit of writing letters to people i love but have always regretted sending them away. Now, since 4 months i have been wandering the streets of busy Delhi and thinking that these streets, devoid of emotions, call for some prose. I wish something, anything, could get all this monstrosity out of my mind, the kind that consumes me day in and day out but then i remember a wise saying, “What cannot be cured, must be endured!”

So I am back, now with less poems and more prose. Maybe i can make sense of things by writing long paragraphs with distorted meaning or maybe I might find rest. Who knows? But i guess it is all worth trying; TO JUST WRITE!