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. 😃