THE WRITERS WORKSHOP

this was a rather unusual experiance for me, being the first one of its kind. and also, kind of crazy. people say there is something like 'serendipity', and despite all its enigma, and elusiveness, even the rational doubts about its existence; the fact is, it exists. something like that lead me to this workshop, and in a way, it was more of an event than a workshop. i mean, i am 10 days away from my exams, i am going to a city i have been to just once, living with relatives i had never seen before that day, and whose adorable and cute little kids tried to play frisbee with my laptop (!!)... honestly, on the first day, i just wanted to return, probably because i had no idea what i was doing there.

writing is something that i have always been doing. as a kid, i wrote weird poems about a cat in the hat who wanted to eat the rat. i think they became friends after that ( how unpredictable is that!!!), and imagining situations, after watching movies, you get the picture. but it was always something i did, just like i painted, or sang, or played guitar, or played wushu. it was two years back, when suddenly, it seemed that every door in my life had been closed, that i realized something. i wont go into events, but i have made mistakes, and paid for them in full, every single time ( makes you wanna gouch out the eyes of the prats who escape it!). i dont regret them, because at that point of time, i more like chose between the deep sea and the devil. it just paralyzed me, because i was so afraid, i would doubt my own judgement, i always wondered if i had made a mistake, still do sometimes. i couldnt do anything, i could not study, could not sing, basically could not do anything at all. i mean i did brush and bathe and all that, but it was just mechanical. except for one thing; i could write.

there is a reason why i love to write, and it was just in these last five days that i could put words to it. It takes away my fears. i have an imagination that actually is as much a bane as a boon!!! so everytime something happens, i am like, what if? what if i fail? what if i win but realize i donbt want it? what if aliens come and abduct us all? what if the person sitting next to me is actually a secret agent who will arrest me this moment because some secret chip was planted in my tooth, the one that hurts quite mysteriosuly. i am not making this up, i have at some point in my life actually wondered about these and many such things.

writing frees me of this, because i can always tell myself, you know what, i may loose, win, fail. it might turn out to be the worst thing thats ever happened to me; but at least i can write about it. it wont be the end.

the writers workshop that i attended, has been an experiance that has actually helped me grow. especially because of the faculty and the organizers. Steve's flying hand outs and critiques, or even just his thoughts, Beryl's silence and encouragement; Elaine, who was the youngest ( and a grandma of five!! ha ha), and the rockstar and Lauren, who had a way of coming up every morning and saying a few words that would suddenly bring everything back into perspective for me (!), these are moments i will miss. mostly, workshops are places where you go to tweak your talents a little bit, and in my experiance, they are mostly attended by people, because other people are attending them. but this was an expiriance that was different from that, at least for me. it was like a roller cosater ride for me, especially because in the beginning, i didnt know anyone, wasnt sure what i could learn and how it would actually turn into something that would go beyond these five days. because anything that does not, is just a memory fossilized, and fossils are great, but i am a writer, not an archaeologist. yet, as every day progreesed, i learned, and not just what was written in the handouts, or the techniques, but beyond that. i think i may at some point break every rule they taught me, probably because creativity and rules seem like paradoxes to me.

yet, what started as an expiriance i was actually blank and apprehensive about, ended full circle for me. it also made me realize something. and maybe that realization will last with me.

all i want to say at the end is, this is probably the second or third time that i have written something from my personal life, probably because it means so much to me, but isnt something i would rather keep to myself. but just take this thought with you; we spend so much time critisizing whats going on around us, analyzing everything from world politics to religious warfare to the society. i have read that in many blogs, including mine. everyday, we spill our rage in capsules made of alphabets, or happiness, or disappointment. but it all becomes useless if we cant spend sometime to look on the inside, as you might be surprised how much what goes on inside of ourselves, has to do with what goes on outside of ourselves.

moments make for a lifetime, but its the coherence in these moments, the underlying theme that connects them, that makes for a life fulfilled. the underlying theme, thats us.