The moment when your fingers are hanging still over your keyboard...
or your pen fails to leave magical words in its trails...
that moment when you realize it’s been hours but you wrote not a single word on your screen/paper...
and your mind is still blank on original thoughts and all that comes up is messy metaphors and plots and sentences and characters that you have obviously used before....
It’s that moment when you need to get the fuck up, throw away your writing pads and documents, and START READING.
This is a common mistake among writers. You gotta read before you write. That’s the golden rule. But many times we can get absorbed in writing that we forget to read...and that can lead your imagination to come in a limit, lose your creativity and you end up painting the same story with different colours and writing repetitive sentences.
So don’t forget to read. Don’t stop writing, but don’t stop reading either. Read, read and read. Explore all sorts of genres, the bestsellers and recent, popular and backdated, clichés and classics. Read everything. Burn the hell out of your eyes and then start to write again.
Remember, not every reader is a writer, but every writer is a reader.
It was dusk. The sun was just beginning to set. Red was starting to spread across the horizon of the open, blue sky. It wouldn’t be long before night fell and darkness would consume the world, giving away to their enemies’ advantages.
It was now time.
The Commander was already very impatient, pacing across the room back and forth, waiting for his walkie-talkie to start ringing. His two soldiers were placed in front of him and already armed with necessary weapons. They kept exchanging nervous glances as they felt the tension grow thicker in the room with each second that passed. The atmosphere was starting to darken and they were losing their precious time but the idiot still hadn’t patched through.
“What in the world is taking him so long?” The Commander barked to himself, sighing in frustration.
As if on cue, the walkie-talkie let out a hideous sound.
He snatched it instantly and brought the speaker to his mouth. “Where were you? I told you to inform me as soon as you were placed! We’re running out of time!”
“S-sorry, sir,” a voice stuttered. “One of our weapons wasn't working. We had to replace it.”
“Didn’t I tell you to fully charge them by daylight? How many times do I have to tell you to get all the work done earlier?”
“S-s-sorry, s-sir -”
“Never mind! Did you do the other thing that I asked you?”
“Of course, sir!” the response was too immediate.
“And what was the other thing that I told you to do?”
“Er…”
The commander closed his eyes for a moment and let out a deep breath, trying not to lose his temper. “I told you to pinpoint the enemy’s location. I told you to make a layout.”
“Right, s-sir. S-sorry I forgot-”
“Can you please stop with the constant apologizing and stuttering? Anyway, just do as you’re told. You have five minutes to report back to me!”
“Yes, sir! I will-” but the Commander had already smacked the button and cut off the connection before the other person could finish.
Then he stared at his watch and waited.
Waited and waited and waited.
Five minutes passed.
The call didn’t come.
When it did, the Commander had already received it before it could even finish the first beep properly.
“I told you to report in five minutes!” he screamed to his mouth-piece. “You’re twenty-seven seconds late!”
“S-sorry, s-sir. I got side-tracked -”
“Always with a bloody excuse,” the Commander grumbled to himself. “Never mind!” he shouted to the walkie-talkie. “Just report.”
“Um, OK. Sir. I mean OK, sir. I forgot to add that,” the Commander was really having trouble keeping his mind, “Right. So for the report: most of them have gathered in corners here and there. The ones in the middle are constantly on the move.”
“Good. What else?”
“Um… that’s it, sir.”
The commander sighed. These kids were absolutely worthless. “Fine. Assign your people to cover the four corners. You go for the middle. My two soldiers here will cover two front sides each. We need to catch them by surprise, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Make sure everyone knows what they’re doing! I don’t want any confusion!”
“Yes, sir!” the soldier started barking out orders to his men. After he was done, he came back in line. “Sir, we’re ready.”
“Good! Mark your position. In my command, we will burst out of the door and attack. We need to surprise them. It’s very important. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!”
“I’m going to count to three. That’s when you make a go for it.”
The Commander grabbed the door handle. The soldiers around him had heard the orders and they were prepared for the moment the Commander would burst the door open and they would lunge. The Commander grabbed a weapon in his hand and the walkie-talkie in his other. He was going for the middle.
“Three!”
His soldiers tightened in their positions, marking their targets. On the other wing, he saw shadows of his other men preparing to attack. The Commander focused his eyes to the enemies, wandering around while completely oblivious to what was going around them. They acted fast but that was just their pure survival instinct. They were dumb and narrow minded. You will pay for all the trouble you cause us at night, the Commander thought, his eyes glinting murderously. You will pay with your life.
“Two!” he screamed. “ONE! Attack!”
***
In an apartment in Uttara, sector-7, seven men with masks and electronic bats, lunged into the balcony and began killing the mosquitos. Sounds of smacks were everywhere as the little insects fell off one by one, their hideous scent of smoke filling the air.
We tried to play with the flames
But all we ever did was drown in the flood
Is the water too cold? Was the impact too hard?
My hand leaves yours, the platonic bond severed.
Fate is cruel to make the pen not ours
We cross out the words though, over and over
Is the world still normal? Are we still the strange ones?
I seek the electricity in your touch, come closer
The day has come for us to speak words
The feelings are too numb, the silence is no more
Are we still in the woods? Or are we out in the clear?
But the game is still on, and we are yet to play the cards
The little girl was watching the other students go by. They all wore school uniforms. White shirt and blue vest on the boys; knee length sleeveless blue dress on girls. They were walking down the path to the school, their colourful backpacks swinging on their shoulders. The bags had books, the girl knew. The students would read those books in classrooms. They would sit down on benches and listen to their teachers, sometimes write down what they learned. She knew as much.
The little girl would never be able to join them. When these children of better families learned and practiced ABCs, she would have to go to the mines with Mama. There, she would jump into those horrible murky pits and collect the glass-like dusty things. She had once asked her mama why these were so important.
"I don’t know much about it,” her mama had admitted. “The boss says they need these in the factory to make some of the make-up products.”
“What’s make-up, mama?”
“I don’t know,” she rolled her eyes. “The boss says rich girls use it to make themselves look more pretty.”
Pretty! The word was foreign to the little girl. She didn't even have soap to clean her face up everyday, forget trying to be pretty. Though, how one could become pretty with the glass objects, she couldn’t fathom.
After the little girl had completed her work, the man, whom everyone in the mill referred to as ‘boss’, gave her a single bill that was so new that she could smell the distinct, special scent that was always associated with brand new cash notes. Careful not to fold any part of it that could ruin the newness, the little girl handed the money in her mama's hands. "Can I go to school starting from tomorrow, mummy?"
Mama scowled at her. "You know we need this money to buy your father's medicine. There isn't enough to send you to school," she snatched the note away and folded it before the girl could even cry out. "Now, go ahead. Fetch me water from that well. We need to start cooking supper."
The little girl obliged. She grabbed the three water containers and dragged them along as she walked out of their makeshift hut. It was evening, and the students were coming back from school. She began to watch them again. She imagined a life where she could be one of them too, wearing a blue frock and carrying a backpack with colourful textbooks, chatting with the other girls about what they learned as they came back home from school…
Her daydream came to an abrupt halt when her mother shouted her name from the kitchen, telling her to get on with her chore. With a sigh, the little girl grabbed the containers and started towards the wells all by herself that were about half a mile away.
My tearless eyes have glossed over
The pen in my hand is broken
Your seconds are ticking; I hear everyday
Now that I am out in the open:
I can’t hold on, I can’t anymore
It ever only rains criticisms
I wish my beloved lend me his shoulder
Share my burden of remorse
O my love, can’t you be kind to me
I can barely keep my pace
Wait a moment, let me breathe in ease
Find me a map out of this maze
The wound in my soul barely ever heals
My legs are still paralyzed
I’m stumbling over the final goodbyes
In the hands of time, I died
I admit it’s my fault
My pride keeping me in denial
The bouquet is beautiful, but the roses are dead
I plucked them out, choosing drugs over survival
I waited far too long
For your walls to break down
But your silence was a decision, not a request
The words in your mind are always left unknown
I tried hard to drown
But the spark burned and burned
In both of our hearts; the fire was accidental
We drew the curtains but the tables were already turned
I turn the key now
Locking my will in the cage of freedom
Grasping the straws and finding you at the end
Take my pickaxe to break the walls of your kingdom
So apparently they found out that the corona virus was not created in a Chinese laboratory. Which means now we can stop being xenophobic towards the Asians, right? Because if it was indeed created in a Chinese laboratory, then it would have been totally legit to be racist towards the Asians. Right, guys? Oh, so the Chinese people did make the virus! How dare they! I’m off to kill all the Chinese looking people in my American neighbourhood. See you in an hour.
Why are we making the fact that virus was not created in a Chinese laboratory artificially an excuse to not be xenophobic? So what if it was? Would that make it justified to treat the Asians - and here, we don’t even bother to clarify whether or not that person is actually Chinese, we just lash out at them because they look so - like dirt? Blame the civilians who had nothing to do with the fact that they were born into a certain ethnicity and nationality for the evildoings of their government and/or other conspiracy groups?
STOP ASIAN HATE because nobody deserves to be hated for their ethnicity. The Chinese (or other East Asians who share similar features to Chinese people) had no hand over choosing to decide on their ethnicity/nationality as much as one had over being British or American or Dutch or whatever race and/or citizenship that is still considered ‘superior’ in our world.
STOP ASIAN HATE because no group as a whole is accountable for some of its people’s crimes. My nation has plenty of reasons to hate Britain for colonizing it, America for siding in support of the genocide that happened here fifty years ago - but does it mean I should hate all American and British people? Would it be justified if I spat insults at the English man’s face or raised a hand on the American?
STOP ASIAN HATE because it’s a violation to human rights. You are taking away those people’s sense of safety and installing fear in them for a community they call their home, for no reason other than resembling facial features with the people of a country where something bad may have started. If we were to justify hate based on that, then boy, everyone would be hating on everyone and thus, we’ll begin World War 3.
Stop Asian Hate because nobody deserves to be hated.
Wish it was a lie
But my kingdom was despair, fear ruled my court
Now my walls are down, your arms the only comfort
What to do now? Will you find me my home?
Gazing upon the sky
Thousands of stars illuminating the night
The one that is yours is the one that’s right
To help me navigate my way back home
The stakes are so high
The roads go on and on… endless and beyond
I’m driving my car with my eyes covered in blindfold
Your promises are the directions to take me back home
No, I cannot lie
Your touch is the spark that lights up my hearth
The love in your eyes sew back my broken heart
So take me home now...you are my only home
Too long, I’ve been watching the moon
Waiting for the tugging pull of insanity
Here it comes….here it comes….
The shivering seizures of lunacy
They say it’s every shade of wrong
To fall in love with addiction; toxicity
But I don’t care...don’t care at all…
No I don’t want healing, this wonderful ability
The mundane life is not for me to lead
Oh, I don’t mean to die now, don’t worry
As it calls me….calls me closer now….
And I give in to my nature, I’m not sorry
Have you ever realized how much time we spend arguing useless stuff on the internet?
Group chats, discord servers, comments’ sections of a social media post or a Youtube video - where aren’t we fighting random people about feminism, sexism, racism, xenophobia, LGBT rights, religion, atheism, basic life philosophies and whatnot. At the end, what did they accomplish? How many hours did we waste like that?
Don’t get me wrong, debates are constructive and a great method to exchange ideas but we have taken it to the extreme level where it has become a one-to-one duel about getting our points across so it’s not about spreading our ideas anymore, it’s about the personal satisfaction, that comes from stomping on somebody’s pride with witty comebacks. Oh look at that, he didn’t reply to my comment anymore, I won, hehe. Ok, so what? Will your name be in the newspaper now? Are you getting a trophy? Prize money? A dinner invitation from the president?
Nothing. You get nothing.
And yet we waste so much time and effort on these petty things.
So instead of getting your points across to random people with your opinions, how about we try to act on them ourselves? Rather than trying to change the mind of a random online misogynist, how about get involved in real life feminist movements? Instead of trying to teach that dumb white kid about xenophobia over the web, why don’t we start a protest rally outdoors? Even making a post on great innovative ideas is more constructive and a better solution to spread word than spending countless hours trying to explain them to people who don’t even wanna listen but just want to point out flaws for you.
Don’t aspire to be a keyboard warrior. Instead, learn to be a changemaker.
