Slaves can never be FREE

In my 2018 diary, I've copied Yamini's words and dated it June, 19th, 2021.

Wise words or phrases or chunks of text that inspire me, soothe me, intrigue me or the ones that leave me powerless to resist, I copy: giving due credit to the writer, of course. I take out my favourite pen of the moment and write them  out in old, unused notebooks. 

If you were to look at my writing desk, book shelves, cupboards, plant stands, you'd spot a notebook or two lying around with words from various bloggers, authors, poets, written in no particular order of date or genre. 

Yesterday, I was all set to share my latest spoken word piece on my blog but something was amiss. The news of Kabul had stripped me of the need to blow my own trumpet. 

Why do we bother to write? What's the use? Does poetry matter? All those grey doubts would've drowned my day had I not met two seven-year-olds.

A dear friend visited with her twins. I had planned to blog in the morning and keep the rest of the day open for my young guests. The twins love sorties and I adore reading to them. It's a win win. I was excited to show them my book. They chose the one they wanted me to sign. 

When it was time for them to leave, K said, "You know I'm going to write a book, too."

"Wow!" I enthused " What's it called?"

We were at the garden gate when this conversation started. The sun was beating down on us. Her mother had turned the car on. 

K shared the title and every detail of her story. The three of us stood perspiring in the hot and humid Doha afternoon. In all of ten minutes, K had described her characters and the initial plot with such vivid details and clarity that I could see her story like a film. Suddenly, she stopped. She'd spotted a gap in her plot. 

Unperturbed, she put her finger to her forehead and thought for a few seconds.

"I'll think about it." she announced confidently and strode towards her waiting mother.

"I love it K. When do you plan to get started?" I asked.

"Today, when we get home." She offered matter-of-factly.

She saved my day.

Why do we, as adults , put so many obstacles in the way of our creative energies? 

My guests left. I took a nap and attended a poetry zoom meeting. That's when I noticed the 2018 diary lying next to my laptop. I picked it up and there they were: Yamini's wise words:

"Deep within us is a region unaffected by the tumultuous uproar of our daily lives."

My day had been rescued after all.

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Sharing my latest spoken word piece here. It's a commentary on personal freedom. 

Thank you for reading and for listening.

I wish you a peaceful day wherever you are.