I Refuse To Write What I Know

Write What You Like

They say you should write what you know. That somehow writing from experience helps bring out the realism in the writing allowing the reader to better connect and identify with the piece. But you know what? I refuse to write what I know. To me, writing is my escape. Isn’t the sole reason we devour book after endless book, immerse ourselves in movies on a continuous roll and write fiction like our life depended on it because we want to step out of our mundane, trouble ridden lives for just a while?

I will connect with my readers with another way. I shall forge this sacred bond between writer and reader by putting in words those unspeakable things- their deepest desires, the wishes on stars on those desperate days, the lives they fantasize about when the world gets too much to bear.  Those unrealistic hopes, aspirations, dreams.Because ultimately, we all desire the same Utopia . In a world where we all just want to unplug, I will be their solace.

Writing to me is salvation, my temporary asylum from a life that never quite seems to go as planned. When I write, I transport myself into another dimension altogether, one where music, beauty, art and literature all merge into a fusion of color which play in the wind, complementing each other just so. Sitting at the keyboard, I explore worlds that never existed until a minute ago when I created it from nothingness, a world where I hold destiny at my fingertips. In a world where impossible is literally just a word, I fearlessly play the game of chance knowing I can never lose.

I’ve spent half my life in a world to which I provide my own personalized soundtrack; a symphony that is my own personal blend of the sounds of my hopes, ambitions and victories. A place where I can give that powerless girl the world at her feet, make the underdog win for a change, create my own demons and destroy them all with the stoke of my keyboard-a world where where defeat is always balanced out with triumph, where a happy ending in inevitable. I once wrote about how beauty will save the world. It saves me everyday.

I often wondered how people who don’t write find it in themselves to stay sane. Sitting there at my keyboard, I can live a thousand lives- it gives me the freedom to go tour the world when I’m bound in one place. And such is the magic of language because I know that once I leave, I’ll never be returning back to the same place. Yes, evading is never the answer but in a world so listless and mundane, is it so wrong to beautify a moment?



It’s gorgeous over here, its spread across the top of these ranges of mountains and the weathers a lot like Maine weather. On the 8 hour bus ride over here around the winding valleys, I did absolutely nothing but sit by the window and stare. There’s something about being on eye level with clouds, surrounded by nothing but miles and miles of tea plantations and untainted wilderness; with the drops of sunlight filtering through the canopy of trees overhead that makes you forget about every single trouble – almost hypnotizing you, making thought of any kind impossible. The dew hangs like drops of quicksilver from the overhead trees and there is a profusion of wildflowers around each corner. Kerela is called ‘God’s own Country’ and it literally radiates some divine force with its flawless landscapes and breathtaking beauty. The mountains lie in slumber, defining magnificence with not only their mass but how they manage to blend in so perfectly in the background, managing to look so powerful without undermining the scenery around it. Waterfalls crash in deep pools- arising and disappearing from absolute oblivion. The symphony of the whistling trees and the weightless clouds overhead leave little to be desired. Inhaling the brisk air- the mixed smell of tea and wet earth, it feels as though this air alone can cure any sickness. You can almost feel yourself passively absorbing the beauty of this place and holding your breath, afraid to shatter the ungodly perfection that surrounds this place. Each aspect of this place, fits in together like a puzzle- crystal clear and listless. Who says paradise isn’t right here on Earth? The glistening of the drops of sun and the waves softly kissing the shore, murmuring in song makes technology feel oddly out of place in my hand, makes music sound like uncomprehensionable noise and makes it almost impossible to think that the houses we left behind back home is the ‘better’ place. At dusk, standing underneath the blazing sky and staring into the endless mountain ranges makes you feel so small but yet at the same time- a part of something so much bigger. As the last song of the birds overhead slowly dies into the spreading blanket of darkness- it seems to take with it any lingering thoughts and leaves you in a state of absolute bliss; as though saying- until tomorrow.