The End.

For the past few months i have been struggling with my blog. the last couple of updates came from a small reservoir. currently, however, i have nothing to offer. may be i have nothing left within me. may be i gave out all that i have. although, all that i have was not enough for me, its a truth i require to accept someday. every creation has its end, for most writers the end of their creativity is their death. unfortunately, i am no writer. the truth is i never was.

writing was never my passion. i never wrote something because i held a strong emotion related to the idea. its just that it sounded "cool". writing was a rather unusual journey i began with. it was one journey that went on for a long time, though i never planned it to happen nor to continue. it all started when a friend of mine, whom i had a crush on, mentioned about some friend of hers who wrote beautiful poems. she herself wrote a couple but i never really had the chance to read many of her writings. i have always been a "why not?" type of a person. so, as a means to impress my friend, i asked myself-"what could be so tough with writing poems?" i had read so many poems in english literature by that time. i sat down to write a few lines. i could hardly manage approximately six to eight lines and i gave up. i carried that incomplete poem in my wallet for some time without even realising it was there. soon , the day arrived. i was having a casual conversation with her when she once again mentioned about her friend and his poem. i said,"i write too, i wrote one recently but its incomplete". she wanted to hear those incomplete lines. i rushed to my room and picked up my wallet. i rushed back to the telephone and read out- life is a war and we all are warriors,
some accept defeat, some chose to lead,
some find friends to go, some alone face the foe,
some fall in love and lose the battle,
some rise in love and chose to settle,
but the battle is still to be won,
as our aim's not just to find the one.

she looked impressed. i was happy to be praised by her. she thought i was talented. i knew, i wasnt. she encouraged me to complete the poem. i tried harder. finally, i completed. i was not happy because i wrote the first poem of my life but i did something that made someone happy. when i recited the poem to her she was happy. later, she shared a couple of her poems and i was encouraged to shape my ideas into poems. gradually, i reached a phase where i could no more frame verses. but, i wanted to write. i wanted to write because i had carried my writing far enough for many to appreciate it. the only way to keep my writing alive was to avoid restraining my mind by attempting to constrain simple ideas into short sentences. this is when i began writing articles.

every time i wrote an article i estimated the response. however, the fate of me as a writer was concealed. when i look at the friend who once encouraged me to write and many other who have succeeded as writers i realize the difference between their and my words. it was for the very simple reason that i wrote for people to appreciate and they wrote for people to acknowledge that i have finally reached my end as a writer. rather it would be inappropriate to call myself a writer in the minutest sense. a pretentious writer that i have been for 6 long years, i am somehow glad that this phase appeared in my life. these few writing would remain with me till i die. i know there wont be any other creation on this blog henceforth for i have reached the end.

What is happiness??

What is happiness? I asked a toddler,
It is when daddy gets a toy for me.
This is the answer I received,
Although true but not complete.
What is happiness? I asked a teen,
It is when I am free to do as I please.
This is the answer I received,
Although true but not complete.
What is happiness? I asked a man,
It is when I can fulfill all the needs of my family.
This is the answer I received,
Although true but not complete.
What is happiness? I asked an old man,
It is when I am content with my journey.
This is the answer I received,
Although true but not complete.

If the toddler’s answer is what I agree,
Then toys and gifts would make the world happy.
If the teen’s answer is what I agree,
Then happiness would be defined as spree.
If the man’s answer is what I agree,
Then a happy family would make the world happy.
The old man’s answer was rather intriguing,
It was so precise while others’ so materialistic,
And if I comprehend the answer of first three,
They complement the same philosophy.