As I sit hunched up at my desk, agonising over an article I'm commissioned to write, my mind wanders. To a time, eons ago, when I would put pen to paper and the words would just flow, as if of their own accord. Where I didn't really worry about syntax and style, and just wrote. I still remember the weird trance like state I went into at 11, writing the prize winning essay at the school-wide competition at Scindia Kanya Vidyalaya.
The irony is that today, when I measure every word, trying to write sentences that 'read well', they come out far more stilted than when I wrote with abandon. This is what comes with trying too hard, I guess. You lose out on soul.
Thinking of this bygone period of my life also takes me back to the one person linked inextricably to that time- Abhijit. We had such good times based on our love for two things- Good food and the English Language. We'd call each other every single day, and meet almost every other, usually checking out new eateries and bantering through the evening. The common interests led to the forging of a really close and comfortable relationship between us, and extended to the sharing of confidentialities, fears, insecurites...there was no one we were more 'ourselves' with. Then I moved to Pune, and we both got caught up in our own routines, all but losing touch.
Now, I have this quality...drawback, actually, since it has lead me to hurt ever so often. When I bond with a person, REALLY bond with a person, it is for life. I seem unable to change my stance, and find it bewildering that others are able to. So when I heard that Abhijit and his family were now stationed in Mumbai, I was all agog with excitement. I traced his number and announced I was coming over to meet him. But once we were face to face, I found him strangely distant, even formal. I felt almost foolish about having been so enthusiastic about getting back in touch. Not wanting to prolong the awkwardness, I got up to leave. At the door, the Abhijit of old, my closest pal, made a reappearance '' You used to write so well. Do you still do?'' ''No'' I replied ''Lost the spontainety somewhere''.