When you have many topics in mind but nothing materialises properly writing becomes a tough task. Whole day you spend writing lines after lines in your head and when you come back home and finally sit to jot it all down you feel totally lost. Not a very good feeling. It’s a bad kind of writer’s block. Since I always travel to and fro from being alright to empty in matter of seconds writer’s block is a usual phenomenon to me. I hardly take it seriously anymore.

Last week I couldn’t post anything here. I was away. Out of station. I had a trip down south. No no, I did not travel to the underworld, but I can tell you the experience was somewhat similar. This is the first trip since I started my blog which will not turn into any travelogue. Not even a single line. Over the years I have learned one thing. Never define any event in your past as a ‘worst’ one. Oh the worst year of my life! Or, that was the worst birthday ever. Or, that was the worst relationship I have ever had. Don’t dare the universe. Label something as worst and the universe will quietly accept it as a challenge to exceed itself and screw you so royally in the next moment you would be left with a whatthefuck expression on your face. So no, dear universe, dear gods, and my dear readers, it was neither my worst trip nor the worst time of my life.

But it was not so good either. And some bad experiences are like bad peanuts. They leave such a rotten taste in your mouth that you are left with a grimace on your face. My cheery optimism has waned over the past few years. The vacuum has got filled with more anxiety attacks and paranoia. And yet the stubborn bit of old habit often pokes its head from time and again. And thank god it does. Then I sit up straight and try to search frantically for gold in the pile of shit. Last week has torn my nerves apart and yet given me plenty of materials to write. I have told this before and I am telling again. It always boils down to my words and I. See? Every cloud has a silver lining after all.