Day 31 – Here and One More Time

by Owaiz

“Hope is a tease, designed to prevent us from accepting reality.” – Dowager Countess of Grantham

People, I’ve noticed, tend to hold those in reverie who do not change their opinions. I used to be intransigent too, but I’ve since realised that one can never be too sure. If I have an opinion, I’ll hold on to it until I learn something that demands it to be changed, in which case, I’ll change it. I don’t mind. That’s how life is.

If you read my previous post, you’ll notice that something changed. It did, just like that. I never thought this post will be anything like it is.

I still have depression, but I’m off meds and have regained more than half of my lost strength. The anxiety and all are still there, picking up speed, and I know I’ll be attacked by them again, but, until that happens, I’m going to enjoy my life.

The quote in the beginning is from Downton Abbey, a TV show that I love. It pretty much explains my view on hopes, wishes, and prayers. I think they are the result of our subconscious efforts to avoid facing the truth or keep ourselves from worrying about the future, or anything else that is uncertain or out of our control.

I wrote a post for a blog. It’s about the beauty of lovelessness. I have never really fallen for anyone, ever, neither have I ever had a relationship. I find that calm and peaceful…but I’ll make you read that post and not give it away here. It will be published on on 28th Feb. I think I’ll share a link to it here when it goes live. It’s nothing too special, but it is something.

Earlier this week, I went to a writing workshop. It was conducted by Kavery Nambisan, a novelist from India. Pakistan and India have always had a tense relationship, and I’m not too sure how Pakistanis feel about Indians. There are those who dislike them, and then there are those like me who know that the people there are just as good as the people here, and are more focussed on the friendship.

I saw a post on Facebook about the workshop and applied. I didn’t think I was good enough to be selected for attending the workshop, but I was selected. I’m not sure whether they selected me because I was good or because not many people applied. I don’t think I’ll know, but I plan to write to the organiser and ask. It may sound weird to him but I’d like to know. Am I good or what? Writers are like that.

Anyway, I did attend. I was the only guy there. All the other people who’d been selected were girls. It should’ve bothered me, but it didn’t. I’m totally used to being an outcast. It’s either being an outcast or standing out, and how I view myself in such situations depends on my mood.

Kavery turned out to be a very nice lady. She was very frank and easy to talk to. What I really liked about her was that she was similar to me. Unlike all other people attending that workshop, I was the only one who hadn’t studied writing or literature. It turned out that Kavery hadn’t either. She’s a surgeon by profession.

We got talking. It was surprising how she was so unrestricted and different from what other authors are like. She wasn’t concerned with writing for others, rather being honest with yourself. She said it is okay if you want to use foul-language. Your character may be a potty-mouth, but he would still talk properly when talking to his parents. Makes sense, another thing learned, another perspective. I asked about separating my writing from my depression, how I can’t bear or like my own writing if it is written too positively. She told me I didn’t have to try for any of those things. I should just write what I want and how I want, be honest and comfortable with myself. I expected arguments, restrictions, limits, guidelines, but I liked what I learned from her instead. It conformed to my views on writing. Writing is liberating. Period. There was a lot more, but I can’t remember.

And that’s all for now.