Abishake Koul

To start off, I feel a need. A need to break the shackles and the control. The control which emotions have when they take over someone completely. The control that makes me feel helpless when I am not able to express. That is when I have to pick up a pen or start hitting the key pads. Writing becomes a lullaby that is putting me into a rhythmic sleep. The written words that I put down complete a liberating journey for me. A journey that leaves me happily exhausted and free of the control.

I started writing very young when I was in school. I started with poetry and that has remained my poison ever since. I used to scribble down verses at the back of my notebooks. I slowly started getting published in the local newspapers and school magazines. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t ecstatic to see my name published. But the real happiness came in the form of compliments from friends and teachers. That joy made me continue on the journey, the joy that someone is able to relate a figment of your imagination to some personal experience.

I continued with writing in college but there were phases when I never did. It wasn’t as if I didn’t need the feel to but I simply didn’t. There is no complicated reason here if you are worrying, my reader friend. It was just that I simply resisted the urge for it never troubled me too much. But I couldn’t keep myself from my diary for far too long. Blogging brought me back in business and I don’t know what but it was a sweet drug which kept on pumping in my veins. I wrote for websites and personal blogs. In the process, I learnt from fellow poets and bloggers across the world through forums and sharing my work. It was a time of evolution for me and understanding the myriad talent which exists unheard. And I have continued ever since, the poison and drug, a lethal combination to keep me going.

It isn’t like I haven’t been inspired all this while. A short story or a novel or some random quote, all have their due to have kept on inspiring me to continue. The great writers keep sending small cinders to keep the fire burning in writers like me.

Why I write is to leave parts of me somewhere in hidden crevices of people’s hearts. Some words that will resonate with some feelings and give a sense of comfort. I write to escape and dream, and with a belief that someone else does that with me.

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