A few days ago, i was on a day train journey. The chair car of shatabdi from ranchi to kolkata where the novel you are carrying is only friend and sole weapon to kill the 9 odd hours. Around 2 stations down this girl walked in and occupied the aisle seat. The usual fuss happened... Brother/Boyfriend carrying and arranging luggage... giving threatening glances to everyone around...... Depositing some chips and cold-drink with her.... and then leaving with a last goodbye!! So i assumed the next step would the girl falling asleep for the rest of the journey and returned to my novel (Vault of Shiva by Andy McDermott ....... AVOID!!). So imagine my surprise when this girl pulls out the compiled works of PB Shelley and starts reading.... Those who don't know him.... Jai Wikipedia!! One of the greatest poets ever! So this book got us talking.... random stuff.... mostly favs.... authors, books, poets and other stuff that i forget now... But what i do remember is a single most striking question she asked "What inspires you??". It came out of the blue..... no relation to what we were talking about, don't even know if it was rhetorical.... but it got me thinking.... I thought of a million things and yet nothing. All that i imagined seemed fabricated.. afterthoughts.... there simply because they ought to be there. Nothing i had actually ever seen or believed in.... Simply there because people had told me that they inspire. I could not say a word.... and somehow she said nothing either. Conversation shifted to other things and the thought was suppressed. But it did not die.... for the entire week it has been there constantly there... poking and pestering me... and finally i think i found it :)
What Inspires Me!
The pitch black night
the calm serene sight
the bright sunny day
all happy and gay
The laughter of friends
the latest trends
the song of birds
or the whining of nerds
The smallest beetle
the tune of a fiddle
the chalk on the board
or the signs on the road
Tis not without
that truly inspires
but my heart of hearts
that shapes desires
An artist creates
naught what his eyes see
he forms impressions
of what we all feel
Sometimes I think
when do I write
what is the time
which I know is right
I write when I am happy
I write when I am sad
I write when I bore
with not a single chore
Don’t need the whitest moon
nor the heron’s croon
don’t need the reddest rose
neither an awesome prose
Spare me my pen, my paper, my soul
I ask thee of nothing more
coz my greatest inspiration lies within
where the veil of reality goes ever thin!!
Maybe you see a hint of shelley here...maybe u dont.... but he was there in my mind throughout as the guy who got me to think..... to think of all that has found a place.... all that has proven its right to exist!
