kdp-writing practice

 Now that I am trying to write, a blank page stares back at me. What to tell and what not to tell? There is the privacy of writing a diary but I have to tell a story, a narrative. It is something that has happened to me. Yet, there is no me and no you in this case. We merge together. How can I say that I love someone but at times I forfeit my own identity and take up his? This love is so obvious and ingrained in me that I keep feeling it without being able to tell the difference between a feeling of love and not feeling love. In reality, I cannot remember one instance when I have not been in love with him. I cannot understand when people say that they used to love someone but went later for someone else. I always had this nameless relationship with him. I never knew that this one person whom I knew so well was also loved and known by others throughout history. But that helped me know about him even further. The truth is I don’t know what to say, even if I said something, it may not make any sense. It is a feeling of love that does all the speaking to me. I cannot feel the need for verbal communication. I admire him always for all that he has done in history and keeps doing. I also feel special when I get to know that he loves me back. Now that I have spoken certain facts, I feel like I could write a narrative based on this love.

It was when I got to know him. I had known him anyway and he was a part of my life. I loved him as someone who cannot be taken away from me. But, I was a kid at that time unable to make decisions. I did not know what life was and I did not know that someday, I would have to choose someone with whom I would like to spend all my life. Lucky are those who find this someone and poor is those who never do but keep trying. He has become over the course of years the sugar of the kheer of my smile and the salt of the mixed vegetable curry of my life. He is special though I regret that I could never make him feel special. Yet, he makes me feel so special though I never realize what is so special about me. I sometimes wonder whether he really feels that way or if he makes fun of me in this manner. Still, he is so timid and sincere that you cannot doubt him.

I wonder at times whether he is like Peter Pan. Wendy saw Peter and her kids did too when they were younger. Yet, the mother kept refusing his presence even when she had felt it herself when she was a kid. Is it possible for people to change in this manner and so completely? But, I myself change when I doubt him and when I feel helpless for he is so heroic. He has always been there to help me. Yet, I feel helpless when I reject him. He is never tired of running to my rescue. Despite all this, he is ever protective of me and forgiving too. He makes me feel strong.

These were the days and nights in the wake of my teenage. I was spending my life in a very normal manner. I was caught up in my own dreams doing things that pleased me most. I kept distracting myself from the pains that life had in store for me even at such a young age. There was no freedom to live and no freedom to enjoy tiny moments. That is when he crept into my dreams. It was so magical and so accepting. I never found any acceptance with people I was calling my own. So, he accepted me and no matter how wild my dreams went, he had respect for them. He knew me so well that even I had known myself in such a rigorous manner. There were so many ways he could have taken advantage of me or judged me or tried to make me see sense. But, he accepted me as if I were the only one whom he had, the only one to shower all that he had. So, there was little privacy and peace which I could give myself. He knew about it and came to meet me in those moments and turned up without fail and without any invitation.

And, I could not turn him back because he was so beautiful. He had a form of brilliant light. This light was beautiful but not blinding, dazzling but not daunting. He was happy and vibrant and peaceful. He reminds me of the color purple. They say that his body is deep blue but I do not believe it. Perhaps, they are happy with the partial truth. They managed to ignore his lively nature and favored his deepness instead. Anyway,  at the threshold of childhood and adulthood, I could feel that he was special but I could not feel that his coming was odd in any manner. He came because he had to come, it was a compulsion ever since I had become a conscious entity. He would turn up always when I wanted him to. He would turn up always when he wanted to. Dear diary, I am telling you what is true and the most intimate reality of my life. I could never tell these things to anyone. 

But there is a harsh truth to this. The people and ideals I call my own all urge me to ditch him, reject him, and if I didn't they would call me an unacceptable fool. I am in great peril. If I change my people and my ideals then he would not like it. If I kept them how can I keep him too? Is it possible to be two things at the same time? The truth is that he is so special that I do not dare to tell about him to anyone. I feel shy and reserved. There are some intimate things that you hide. You hide your body because it is special and can be given to someone special to you only. Similarly, he is at the core of the soft corner of my heart, he is special. You cannot open your heart in public, there are some reservations, right?

When the world goes in a pattern that has nothing to do with me, he follows all the ways which I love and prefers what I prefer. There is no question of marriage between us for marriage is a breakable contract. Love is an infinite relationship. Between marriage and love, I choose the latter. And, I also choose him over all others, be it people, relationships, or abstract entities. Let me write the narrative again. 

When a childhood friend becomes a teenage darling. 

बात उस रोज़ की है जब मैं एक रात दिन का पूरा काम ख़तम करके सोने ही जा रही थी।  वो चुपके से आया और आकर मुझसे बातें करने लगा।  अजीब बात है की उसको किसी ने भी नहीं देखा।  किसी ने भी उसको नहीं सुना।  वो आज सुन्दर लग रहा था रोज़ ही ही तरह। मैं उसकी आदि थी।  वह रोज़ ऐसा ही तो दीखता था।  लेकिन कभी उसको इतने ध्यान से नहीं देखा था।  आज देख लिया।  वह जीवन के एक अंग तो थे ही लेकिन अब वो एक अभिन्न अंग बन गए।  

This story is of another day. That night, I was going to fall asleep right after completing my work. He came ever so quietly and started talking to me. The weird part was how no one saw him. No one heard him. He was looking beautiful that day like every other day. I was so used to it. He used to look this way every day anyway. But I never paid any attention to his looks. Today I noticed it. He was a part of life anyway, but now he became the salt of life. 

पहले जब हम मिलते थे तो मैं अपने काम की तरफ ही देखती थी।  मैं अपने तरफ देखती थी लेकिन आज मैं उसके तरफ देख रही थी।  मैं नहीं सोच रही थी की वो क्या बोल रहा है मैं बस हर बात पर हाँ बोलती, सब कुछ मानती चली जा रही थी।  आज पहली बार ही ध्यान आया था की वो तो रोज़ ही ऐसा करता था बस मेरी ध्यान गयी नहीं।  वो आज भी ऐसा ही कर रहा था।  इस बात को मैं क्या समझती? उसके साथ रिश्ता इतना ही गाढ़ा था की अगर मैं कहती की मैं उसके प्रेम में थी तो रिश्ते को ही कलंक लग जाता।  तब मेरे लिए प्रेम एक शारीरिक बात थी लेकिन शरीर के भीतर तो मन होता है।  वो रहते तो मन में थे और शरीर के साथ उनका कोई भी सम्बन्ध नहीं था।  अगर वो इस दुनिया की बात होती तो हम दोने के इतने हसने और शोर मचने से सारे लोग जग नहीं जाते?

I would be so attentive toward myself and my work that I would not give him any special attention. He would give me company anyway. But today, I was looking at him, stealing glances time and again. I did not pay much attention to what he was saying. No matter what he said, it was true to me. I never had realized that but he was stealing glances even to this day. How could I have known then? My relationship with him was so deep that had I called it to love then it would blemish our relationship. To me, love was something sensuous, something bodily. But, the heart lies within the body and that is where I had found him ever so often. Had that been something in this world then why would our gossip and laughter not wake up anyone around? 

Plot

Sonali and Kishan were childhood friends. Kishan has always loved Sonali but Sonali was too young to notice. When she did notice her own emotions then she was in her late teens. She has to leave her hometown and part ways with Kishan. Kishan is a painter and is not as ambitious as Sonali. Sonali begins to find all the good things in life but misses Kishan's presence. Sonali gets busier and cannot receive any calls. Kishan tries to connect but Sonali has little time for anyone except her ambitions. When Sonali realizes the indifference and harshness of where ambitions lead it is too late, the world around that she has made for herself is far from caressing. Then she realizes that her world has no Kishan in it. Then she says to Kishan that she loves him and that no matter what happens in her world, Kishan is always there. Kishan finds nothing wrong with Sonali but Sonali still fears that someday she would forget him and be sad again. Kishan only smiles at her thoughts and they readily accept each other. The story ends with the question of whether Sonali will ever forget Kishan again yielding to the pressure she feels from her peers and the indifferent world she has loathed and is still living in? 

Sonali is an icon of ambition and material desires leading to vanity. Kishan symbolizes the simple joys and sorrows of life, a loving heart who is too gentle and cares for nothing but his childhood love. Sonali and Kishan are so opposite characters that together they feel a balance. Sonali now readily listens to Kishan while making her own decisions but has not changed much. She still has vaulting ambitions. Kishan is everything that Sonali can ever desire but her other peers are looking for husbands who can give them a sense of power and material well-being. Sonali feels caught up between peer pressure and her own love for Kishan. 

The story uses a lot of symbolism. 

A passage that shows the loneliness amidst all the clamors in Sonali's life:

Like every other day, Sonali woke up right after sunrise and rushed to look at the mirror. Her face was dirty as always but there was a glow like the new day's sun in them. After she had her bath, she went outdoors. The people all bade her good morning. They smiled and turned around in a flash. There were so many people here. Then she had coffee and toast for breakfast. It was so much better than the milk and bread at home. The smell of jasmines in the room freshener was vibrant. Kishan would bring her a handful of jasmines every day that he would collect on his way to her home before breakfast. That idiot Kishan. 

So, she woke up early that morning and looked at the mirror. The dirt on her face was usual but the glow was like the new morning. She wished a good and happy morning to all and all bade the same to her with a smile. There was a gratitude in their eyes that traced the look on her face. There was the toast and the coffe like every morning. Only she would drink milk and crackers at her home. Sometimes there would be fragrance of jasmines that Kishan would bring for her on his way to her place. She would grab the jasmines and bid him no thanks. The smell of this room freshner reminded her of jasmines, the real jasmines. 

हॉस्टल की ये सुबह मनमोहक थी। चारों तरफ रूम हीटर की गर्माहट और गर्म कम्बल में लिपटी मैं थी।  डोर्म में सारी लडकियां थी।  अभी कोई  ब्रश करती थी, कोई लोशन लगाती थी, कोई नाहा - निपट कर अभी पढ़ने ही बैठी थी तो कोई फ़ोन पर लगी थी।  मैंने जाकर अपना चेहरा देखा।  इतनी ठण्ड में मैं किसी बार्बी से काम सुन्दर नहीं लग रही थी।  पर सुबह उठकर चेहरे पर मैल हमेशा की तरह ही था।  पानी ठंडा  था सो उसे धोकर मैं जैसे-तैसे मुँह पोछने लगी।  इतनी लड़कियां थी और  हम लोग एक दुसरे को जानते तो नहीं थे।  पर जब नज़रें किसी से मिल जाती तो हम दोनों ही मुस्कुराते और गुड मॉर्निंग भी बोलते।  आज नाश्ते में था कॉफ़ी और टोस्ट।  घर में दूध ही पीना पड़ता था और कॉफ़ी शायद ही कभी नसीब होता था।  इतनी साड़ी लड़कियों के  बैठकर नाश्ता करने का मज़ा भी कुछ और ही था।  फिर मेरा दिल जाता उन लड़कियों की और जिनको पढाई नसीब नहीं होती है।  मैं खुदको उनसे कितना ही बढ़कर समझ रही थी।  तभी एक मनमोहक खुशबू मेरी और आयी।  कहीं से जस्मिने की खुशबू आ रही थी।  बाहर बागीचा तो था पर उसमे जस्मिन नहीं था।  फिर इतनी ठण्ड में सारे दरवाज़े और खिड़की भी बंद थे तो खुशबू नहीं आ सकती थी।  किशन जब कभी सुबह मिलता तो स्कूल के रस्ते पर मुझे जास्मिन ज़रूर देता था।  कल रात के लेकिन खिले-खिले और खुशबूदार।  जिस दिन वह जास्मिन नहीं लाता उस दिन मैं उससे कोई बात नहीं करती थी।  पर जब वह लाता तब मैं उसे अपने हाथ में रगड़ कर उसकी खुशबू ले लेती फिर फेक देती।  ये रूम फ्रेशनर तो इतनी साड़ी लड़कियों के भीड़ में कितनी सी ही खुशबू ला पा रहा था।  तभी फ़ोन पर टेक्स्ट आया, किशन पूछ रहा था की तुम कैसी हो।  चमकीले जस्मिने की मनमोहक खुशबू मुझे घेरने लगा।  

This first morning in the hostel was amazing. All around me was the warmth of room heaters and snug blankets that had hugged me all night. All girls were there in the dorm. One was now brushing her teeth, and another was rubbing lotion. One had freshened up and one was wrapped in covers reading her book, another busy with her phone. 

I looked up at the mirror. In this snowy winter, I was no less lovely than a barbie. Yet, the dirt on my face after leaving the bed reminded me that I was not a doll, not Barbie. The tap water was cool and freezing. I toiled to wash my face and rubbed it off immediately on my towel. 

As I walked back into the dorm, there were so many girls whom I did not know. Yet, when our eyes met we greeted each other with a hesitant warmth and then wished each other good morning. Today's breakfast was coffee and toast. Breakfast at home was only milk and bread, coffee was reserved for my future. That future had now arrived, I felt. It feels so vibrant to eat breakfast with so many other girls. Someone was saying something when a fragrance flitted toward me and left. It was jasmine. 

On our way to school, Kishan would always bring me jasmines that he had plucked off at night from his garden. They would remain so fresh till the morning. When I would be thinking of class and homework then Kishan would drift toward me with a handful. I would take them off his hands and rub them in mine. This fragrance would linger for long after he had left. I tried to lean more toward the room freshener when my phone beeped. 'Good morning', Kishan had texted. A shawl of scent wrapped me immediately. 

Kishan would unconditionally give gifts to Sonali. They would never be too expensive but Sonali was used to his adoration. Sonali was now living in Shimla in a hostel. Kishan was still adoring her in his small ways. Sonali had taken from him thanklessly and so was she taking it to date. Sonali never realizes who Kishan is to her until she makes a great fall in grades because of the abusive nature of her college. The story starts with Sonali starting her life in a hostel. It had been her dream to be free and independent. When Sonali realizes the abusive nature of her college then she gives her teddy to Kishan for safe-keeping until she returned. There are parental expectations and indifference which come in her way to seek the life she chooses. The story ends where Sonali went to Kishan to seek her teddy back. But, when she saw his carefree but responsible free-flowing nature of life then she decided that Kishan was a better owner of her teddy than she herself could be. For her homecoming, Kishan asked Sonali what present she would like. Sonali said that she wanted Kishan himself. The story ends with Kishan shedding tears of joy and leaving the spot. Sonali stands back and watches him at the backdrop of a pink approaching evening and jasmines blooming like stars in Kishan's garden. Sonali wants to stay back and watch him but her mother ushers her away. Sonali cannot help but watch the spot where Kishan had left and turns back to catch glimpses of the arriving stars at the sky.