December 17, 2012


There was a restlessness of the spirit that did not stem from events that happen. It exists. Like how that patch of dirt has always existed on the corner of the almirah. No one knows how, but its existence has been proven over generations of the family. 

The singing comforts of everyday sounded off-key. That trail of ants that crawled near the bedside annoyed incessantly. A half hour was spent every night before sleep in killing the army, only to see a fresh crop emerge the next day. 

Srishti needed to leave. 

The city and life as she had known and loved had ceased to be. A new chapter had to begin and she had to fill the ink in her pens to write it into her life. 

That morning she had snapped. When she woke up to the drumming noises of the factory nearby. The strange consolation the sounds of its machinery once gave, sounded jarring. The coffee was just not of the right consistency. 

So she decided she needed to pack. And leave. No notices. No formalities. Simply leave. She had no idea where she was going. She needn't know. She knew she was a woman who felt life from within. She will find her way. That much she knew. 


(I don't know what this is a part of. I just had to write) 

December 16, 2012

Off the top of my head- III

(a severe bout of creative writer's block, thanks to the madness that has been my life for the last few months. Below is some remnant energy siphoned off to make marginal sense. Hopefully, the times ahead are more kind and more vision-endowing)


Fear had become a bedside companion talking non-stop to keep me afraid. It capitalized on the silences,  explained with reference to my past and sang with nonsensical words to make me feel like a weakling, all over again.


There never is perfection. It is all about imperfections and learning to run alongside it.


Sunlight sifting through cobwebs, a pappus floating into your outstretched palm and the smell of wet earth play symphonies within, when vulnerability strikes. Trivialities rescuing from palpitations.


I lost myself in those changing images. One transience I could trust wholly in. Even if it was a bad film  there was still the magic in it that lead me on.

It made life worth living and no matter what went wrong, I could dive into its world and feel the comfort of mise-en-scene, background music and the like!

Films are the lullaby of my life. Calming my nerves, reducing paranoia and helping me continue to dream.

Thank God, for films!
© Dryad's Peak
Maira Gall