I have been avoiding my laptop lately. Because everytime I flip it open, I feel obliged to write, and the last thing I have been wanting to do is write.
My days drift slowly by, each one starting off drowsily as I lie in bed long after waking up, squinting my eyes up at the ceiling, wishing away the dull, throbbing ache that tap-dances across my forehead. I blink repeatedly, trying to clear away the sleep in my eyes, before languidly rising from bed. It takes a Herculean effort to separate my body from the plush comfort of the mattress, which draws my spine towards itself with an almost magnetic force. I make my sluggish way downstairs, only alert enough to make sure I don’t miss a step and stumble. It is only after my first sip of chai -strong, South Asian style tea that is brewed with cardamom, milk and sugar – that I start to feel remotely human. A few minutes on the phone here and there, a handful of pages read out of the book I am currently reading, a cursory look through the newspaper – it’s the stuff my afternoons are made of. All I need is a tub of lasagna and I could give Garfield competition.
It would seem likely that after a dose of caffeine I would feel perked up and active enough to get some writing done, but alas, such is not the case! I go about the day in an almost lackadaisical manner, hardly aware of the hours that atrophy away,or the clock that ticks by as lazily as my own actions. The highlight of my day turns out to be going to the gym, that too after the sun has set, and not during the daytime when I should be most active. It is after midnight that I finally feel awake, my mind whirs as thoughts collide, ideas converge only to disperse, and conversations, fictional and otherwise, replay out in my head. The night is when I reign, I feel sharp, psyched up and ready to do something. But what is there for me to do at a time when the majority of the rest of the city sleeps?
I haven’t been wanting to write. But perhaps it’s time I finally get down to it, eh?