This is a blog post from my blog-http://sagarikapandey.wordpress.com
I thought I'd post it here as well.
For her letters floated in air, ideas above that and happiness below words. To create, the happiness felt at the thought of writing filled her with excitement and sometimes nothing more than that and several times it was just another element in the mixture of feelings she had. The words picked their own favourites, ideas chosen the way she thought things should be and excitement because of the idea and structure she foresaw would be created after the words and idea blended.
For her the idea of writing was more delighting than writing itself. She thought the thought process was more important than what comes out in the world with the words and ideas together. Sometimes there was desperation, other times there was emptiness. Desperation was born considering the fact that she gave time to other things knowingly, unknowingly not even being aware and emptiness due to the fact that she could not write more often and as good as she possessed the thoughts should come out on paper.
She thought a lot about the consequences her own self, her family, her country would have to face if she wrote, only wrote professionally.
Herself-because she has to have an earning,
Her family-because even they never said it but she had some responsibilities which were to be fulfilled only by her,
And her nation-because she was in a constant dilemma that if she took up writing or a job related to it or even teaching(which she thought was a continuous process in which telling, writing, learning and reading were being done and had to be done simultaneously).
Though she had enough explanation for the world that even if she did anything of the above she would contribute to the country but that explanation often falls short for her mind and sometimes soul as well. Though no explanation at all is also enough for her heart since her heart wishes to write, to create and be in that world voluntarily and wants to drown in it day in and day out.
If well past these hurdles there comes a discomfort in a less than few writers’ life where age is more than a maturity factor;
Either she is too young for the world to accept her. For the generalised notion and sometimes rightly so is that when young, the thoughts are tender not ready to face the storms of real and adult world but what about her whose thoughts are really ready to face the hell and heaven, whatever comes its way.
Or she is either too discouraged to write or her health is continuously failing her to gather the courage to combine her ideas with her fading words.
Even though all sorts of things attack a lady when she writes, the most difficult ones are the ones that are self created and have to be self-destroyed.
These are only the generalised, common and few problems that crop up before a woman begins to write or while she is. Still what she writes, she manages and not just merely manages but well does so she produces the words from her heart, combined with some logical thinking, of course.