From gradually letting go of the invisible filter at the back of my head, that binds the manner of my posts, to the brave, original, inventive writing The Conundrum has offered me a forum to incept -each moment of this 365 day journey has helped me explore, if not define, the beautiful world of inspiration, of riddles, of stories and secrets of secrets, that continues to grow around me and you like clouds grow in the sky – without trace.
It has helped me track a tiny section of the magnanimous universe of vividly varying characters and parallel personalities; it has helped me tap sentiments and flatten paradoxical opinions to equal stature. Through my blog, I have understood the many ways and methods in which the world works. I have learnt how temper and tenderness stay locked inside the same soul without causing colossal damage – just like bitterness and sweet intertwine with melody. My blog has helped me discover, slowly and steadily, that the written word has so much to offer – and satisfaction is only one of its many gifts.
It is like Helen Keller says, without the gift of writing, I was indeed ‘like a ship in a dense fog, groping its way without compass or sounding-line.’
What is more, it has given me reason. Reason to look at things differently, to go behind the curtain and see for myself what lies beyond the ordinary, it has persuaded me to come back to words after tiring, absorbing days of monotony. And it is to this reason that I celebrate a year of happy blogging.
Today, the 28th of July is to the posts that helped me marry the stylistic bugs of writing, and make them my own imperfect route to encore perfection. To it being the rain gauge of my dispositions and thoughtfulness. To every sheet that bore with me the torture of deleted words amidst Writer’s Blocks, and every page which adjusted overflowing ideas and overlapping streams of thought into concrete, sensible and artful space.
So, 56 posts, and many a thousand words later, I sit in my room, hot wind circling me, my hair tied all messy, my Superman T-shirt no more heroic than my dreamy heart, a bowl of soggy cereal before me, at 12 pm on my watch – I have no cupcakes lined up on a tray, no candles waiting to be lit, no big post coming up, I have no party of slam poets all geared up for a literary fiesta – all I have is a pen and an inkling of a thought. And for once in a really long time, it seems enough.
Today, I have a rainbow steering me to the things I wish to do – to dreams, to aspirations, to goals. And I am sure, that at the other end of my rainbow is a pot of gold, yet it is not for the lure of this treasure that I travel, not for its glitter that I transcend and dwell into the many colours of my adventure. The reasons, my friends, are so very different.
I thank everyone, readers and critics alike, for the immense support and for pushing me when needed and for a pat on the back when I so deserved. Thank you for giving me so much to look back to and helping me keep the hearth aflame and warm in hope of many things to come ahead. I thank you for helping me maintain the feeble line between imagination and reality and yet allowing me to make compromises on this demarcation whilst writing. May you continue to write, read, and inspire and may you discover your personal conundrums through beautiful journeys.
On Day 365, and for not giving up in the lows, for the good and worse The Conundrum has seen, and for the small dream it is today, I say:
“The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”