Whatever!!!

A pseudo writer's block

So she sat in front of the idiot box, surfing mindlessly… As if that din wasn’t enough, the music system was blaring her assorted favourites.  She sat cuddled in the warmth of the quilt, the table cluttered with comfort foods (Piping hot Pizza, cheese popcorn, chocolate truffle and a bottle of cola to wash it down). The single yellow light lulled the atmosphere. An aroma candle in the distance helped engage the last of her sensory organs. But with all the 5 forced into duty, the mind still ruled the roost. Or rather still held the strings… The Godfather. Marlon Brando’s steely look pierced through the poster on the opposite wall.

 

Ok, bad start. Typical M&B mush.

 

“Marxism to me is more than just an ideology or theory that one would cram for the BA exam, or make an honest attempt to understand during the MA course (romanticising how you would champion the proletariat cause) or worse claim allegiance to during your JNU years as you get secluded into a 1000 acre campus which you believe is the entire world of political activism. It goes beyond just that, more like what I think the Marxist approach is all about. Detaching yourself from your own life , and watching it objectively, from the outside. Every time you walk down memory lane, it evokes different emotions. But that is being subjective, and hence the difference in emotions. Marxist approach would be more like standing on the banks of a river, observing it. The river, here would be your own life open to your own scrutiny.” And while she lectured about her interpretation of Marxism, the Chimp poster on the other side of the wall, laughed at her feigned erudite manner proclaiming “Mere paas Mao hai”

 

Strange, how the posters on the walls of my house have decided to mock my honest attempt at writing down my thoughts. Just when I think I have set the background and can begin delving into the topic, the posters ruin it all. One final attempt. The good news is, there aren’t any posters left with steely looks and witty quotes. There is just one Monet hanging near the bathroom for want of an empty wall, a serene Buddha away from sight and one with Basil Rathbone playing Sherlock Holmes in 12 different movies. Hardly disturbing!

 

The Bad news however is that my writers block doesn’t let my fingers slide across the keyboard anymore (Ink flowing through the pen sounded so much more poetic!).  Interestingly the Writers block almost always exists. The window of opportunity just slid by as the posters hogged the limelight…