A vision that was obliviated and hibernated for a very long time existed like a mirage, in my journey, made its inception in a predicament. For all reasons hindered my insight, I have a persuasive explanation to conceal my fear. Within the first few days, I lost hope and I nearly gave up. An idea, once taken hold of the brain, it is almost impossible to eradicate, it began again. But it is neither fully formed nor understood. If it actually works my life may change, positive. It was a blind belief.
Again, there was a pause.
I almost renounced in despondency. Because I thought I can't bring this task to an end. One reason is inferiority complex and the second is discouragement due to dispiritedness from the people I had narrated.
And another pause followed.
People’s inference cast down my conviction. Yet my decision was not to frame a whispered remark on my aspiration to this form of art, I would want to learn and evolve to be a new me. It began again. This time on a serious note. The initial days were a fierce scuffle. Later, it was a blow with emotional impact followed by insecurity and the uneasiness extended to insomnia, with an eagerness to finish the task. I believed in my plot and the only part I loved of my work was only the first ten sentences. To my understanding in my introspection, I succeeded in surviving against heavy odds; coped to collapse the blockade between my ordeal of bad narration and the expectation for the end product to a masterpiece. Initially, my inventive realism was a kind of dream. But it is now true and I am glad that I could make a runnel out of the blockade to trespass. I know I did not make a masterpiece, but a reasonably good work.
There are 100 steps to the destination
My first step completed!
Just 99 more to go.
I am one step closer to my most awaited dream.
Nearing the real destination,
I need extensive preparation
And I require skills like an erudite.
I may fall behind.
But, I will not give up...
—Venkata S Bhojanapalli
I will begin with my story
Those were my college days some of the memorable days to summon back, working as an assistant in an internet centre for a daily wage of ₹ 50. Just imagine, an internet cafe, and four computers running with the first Reliance mobile. An internet centre in the mid-2000’s, most of the customers are college students and infatuated lovebirds. There was rush only during examination results, and the remaining time it was all free. Mornings are dull and drowsy. And every evening was a happening, starting from Sunday to Saturday. A team of interesting, enthusiastic people formed to gather for chitchats initially, soon the practice lead to profound discussions I reminisce about in that corner of a two storey business tower opens after a shallow corridor. That place, where strangers meet, talk eloquently about international politics, stock markets and many topics.
Each day had two shades. The morning I would listen to kissing noises from private cabins and evenings I spend listening to all kinds of people. Sometimes I participate. When I participate I tell stories mixture of Indian mythology, World War’s, Hollywood movies and some are my own creation. Storytelling was my primary career ambition those days. Those are the days of emerging internet and piracy was on the rise. One fellow from the city used to visit the internet centre often on holidays and the weekends. He will share new pirated movies and most of them were B-grade of course. Obviously, I cannot watch porn in the open as I sit outside the private cabins at the entrance. And I was a kind of good boy for all visitors. I was conscious that, if someone notices, which would bring me a bad reputation. In all those collections of porn and Hollywood films, the eye-catching name was the lord of the Rings. The pirated version was truly discouraging, and I later watched in a big screen. The very first dialogue rushed my adrenaline, of Lady Galadriel’s narration from the lord of the rings, here it goes:
The world is changed:
I feel it in the water,
I feel it in the earth,
I smell it in the air...
Much that once was is lost. For none now live who remember it.
Thank you, sir, Mr JRR Tolkein, this is apparently what I was expecting, to begin with for my future endeavour. To begin my narration, to write and tell stories, I have speculations of such kind of creativity. My desire originated that very moment. Post my graduation my creative pondering remained bygone to find life in the city. The expectation and reality basis comprehension put me in big trouble. I understood that struggle for existence is a never-ending process, except you are to be brave enough to make the decision to pursue what you have envisioned upon. I hope my time has come now to cut off those attached strings - to think big, learn more and live a step ahead.