I want to write many things here, many things like that girl about whom I want to bitch or about the jinxed name that I have come across, or even better about my desire to become a great writer one day, who can write beyond bitching, beyond dance floors, beyond wardrobes, beyond booze, beyond the sheets, beyond the break-ups beyond America and beyond infidelity.
What is it to write without all these things? Is it like pulling out the quintessential spices of any peice worthy of reading or is it reminiscent of Wordsworth and Coleridge? Don't get there, never a match because even if a handful of eminent literature professors come together it may still not be possible they would make one Wordsworth. Anyway, I cannot write about the solitary reaper or the daffodils. I have read them and I have loved them. If I saw some dainty flowers or a beautiful rainbow, I may live in it but I am afraid, My writing cannot do them that justice so I might never venture there.
I have dreamt of a dream, a hundred million times the same dream in myriad shades. I have dreamt this dream that one day, I would also win a booker prize and have fantasized my reactions when someone from the long distance rings and tells me that my book is nominated. I have imagined myself dressed in a red saree like the way Arundhati Roy was dressed when she received her award. I have picturised a wiki about my book.
With a dream like that and with a vision where my writing makes a difference to the reader, Do I really want to bitch about anybody here? For all we know, You might find that "Bitchy -Piece" here, yes you read it right, it could be one of the following blogs which might get published or which might remain only a draft..I would not know!!
