Stories

How to find your mojo.

 DO YOU KNOW THAT FEELING WHEN, let’s say you have not worn your favorite blue jeans in a while.  One day you’re getting ready for a day out and you look for it, but can’t find it.  You’re getting late, so you wear another jeans and get through the day, but as soon as you’re back home, you start looking for it again. You sort of become obsessed with finding it, looking for it everywhere, asking your laundry person, rummaging all your travel bags, the boot of your car, neighbor’s balconies, everywhere you might possibly find it. One day, you accept that you have lost it for good. Yet, you keep a watch, just in case.
For me, this blue jeans is a metaphor for my writing. Five years ago, I struck a bump in life that made me lose my mojo. I didn’t know the exact moment when I lost it. But every time I looked for it, I couldn’t find it.  “It might be around here somewhere”, I kept telling myself.  “Oh, I’ll find it when I least expect it”.  “Be patient.  You’ll find it.”

It was a writer’s block so hard that I had to accept that I would never be able to think creatively or write again.  I did everything I could to re-kindle my writing senses – I got into painting for a few weeks and painted ALL of my furniture (no kidding),  I got into makeup for a few months and spent THOUSANDS of rupees on high end make up that I didn’t need.  Today, it all lies in a storage warehouse in Bangalore.  I colored my hair red and then brown and then red and then brown again.  I started drinking A LOT.  I started smoking heavily to accompany my heavy drinking.  Because I was not able to write anymore, reading well-written books now seemed to aggravate my disappointment with myself.

Traveling, that had always been my muse was not helping me any longer.  I would stare blankly at my notepad or laptop screen, hoping it to stir up something in me, but nothing did.  I was so steadfastly disconnected from myself and my surroundings that when I traveled, I would stare blankly at the sky or the mountains, or the ocean but could not come up with anything to say about them.

I had accepted this way of life.  Maybe this was a part of my life’s journey.  Maybe I was born to inspire Stieg Larsson to write THE GIRL WHO LOST HER ART AND LIVED SADLY EVER AFTER – I good humored myself.  Days, weeks, months, years kept passing me by and every time I sat down to write something, I was so bored with my own writing that I had to order beers and watch netflix to entertain myself.  This boredom was spreading like an infection in my being.  I was bored of everything – myself, family, boyfriend, friends, work, travel, netflix, drinking, smoking, my apartment, everything.

One day, edgy as it is, I resigned from my job and decided to fulfill my dream of long traveling.  Cut to weeks later.  I am visiting Delhi – my home city – for a few days, sorting some paperwork and passport verification, dealing with hiccups that come with a new life that has none to little income, thinking of life from a fresh perspective.  Add to that the drama of a dysfunctional mad family – utter chaos.

But in all this, I think I may have found a replacement, if you will, of my lost jeans.  To read my first story after a hiatus of five years, check out my post here. 😃

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