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Irevel in a state of bliss as I float among the clouds, partaking of the nectar of life through every inch of this charming flight. Observing the fascinating act of writing is what sparks this ecstasy in me. The gliding of the pen nib across paper, leaving a trail of characters, words and more in its wake, is a feast for one's eyes and senses.
It is the creation of something immense and beautiful. A miracle unfolds before my wondering eyes as a canvas that on its own was, just seconds ago, blank and unremarkable, gets epically elevated in stature as a flurry of words gets inscribed on it. It becomes alive with eloquent and possibly, powerful content, to say the least. Be it a message, an anecdote, a story or a lesson, once written, it is destined to touch and transform its reader's minds.
I would enjoy watching older folks write since I started schooling and watched the impressive way in which the teachers would write. Standing beside or opposite them as they wrote at a table would provide the best view of them writing. I would be mesmerised by the way the writing flowed from their pens- those quickly appearing line of words on paper, as a consistent array of fertile furrows, the expertly painted flourishes and crosses on some of the letters- would all seem like magic.
Gradually, it was the various shapes, style, pace and vigour of people's writing that I discerned and began to be charmed by. So unique is each piece of writing that one cannot but marvel at this fine example of cosmic forces at work, causing an apparently simple phenomenon but which has never been quite explained scientifically.
The overwhelmingness of the astounding experience has often made me feel weak in the knees. Add to this the intermittent scratching sounds of the fountain pen nib as it would skim the paper vigorously every now and then, and it would become almost too much for my delicate little mind to endure. I am absolutely certain I have swooned from euphoria on several such occasions.
Writing as an art is also gratifying. For one it evokes thought the creativity. When done well and for the good it can be very fulfilling as well as society- serving. I find it so exciting that I feel eager to start doing it without wasting any time. It is interesting that one who relishes the act of writing s like an athlete who before begining actual training, compulsorily go through preparatory warm- ups, but thrills in that too.
The act of writing is but a prelude to many better and satisfying outcomes. My romance with it began in early childhood- first, the act and some time later, the art of it. i would scribble and doodle in my ‘rough copies’, and with time I discovered a rhythm and a personality in my writing. It was a coming of age, a moulding of individuality, which was promptly noticed and commended by my elder sister(as we would write letters to each other regularly) when I was in middle school.
As a tornado stems from a few little swirls of the wind and grows into a formidable force, so can seemingly aimless initial scribbling be the forerunner of future gems. Who knows, the personal stories and hand- written manuscripts of eminent writers might inspire coming generations to take up writing and produce their own masterpieces. In any case, with writing being as pleasurable as this, which other preoccupation could be better.
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