Unsettled

Just flipping through the vast treasure of webpages on the net, the magic of Kazuo Ishiguro still etched up in the heart- wished to know more about him, about his other works.

There was a big write-up about him- the initial days, first novel, about how people find his novels so intense, the family he belonged to- and verdicts from critics.

Paragraph by paragraph i transcened that whole article- being just a feeble unnoticed creature as compared to Ishy, but imagined myself being one day in the shoes of an world acclaimed writer.

Just one novel i read of him- and it did some magic on my spirits, raring to read more- A pale view of hills, remains of the day et al..

During the childhood times- he opted for studying language, so was I remembering my childhood- how never ever i discarded /disliked that one favorite subject- English; there were technical inclinations too- architecture, physics- but all went out of view...

Though on seeing the teachers and nuns around- I wished at times to be a nun, still that thought is alive in some corner of my heart- forever will be...

Then as the mind grew up- careers being choosen- there always felt that love for English growing profound and permanent- I did even started writing poerty long back when i was in 9th Standard. The world around usually never considered this subject to be productive- in the way that fulfills the lust for material desires, but i fell into the wrong world maybe looking for the fulfilments and satisfaction of heart.

I kept following the path i was made to walk on- keeping the voices inside shut- keeping the calm of mind. Maybe that was the kind of person i was- robed under the veil of shyness- but as the time passes on the picture gets clearer- not the shyness but some patience and belief to grow up someday and walk away from the world of the ones who never believed in what i dreamed for me- to re-appear someday and take them aback by surprise.

Love always felt as powerful as much it wont let you die of boredom- that was i felt myself to pursue that desire- to clear of graduation, post graduation, doctorate and beyond that too with the 'subject' that overflowed the heart since i was small- and never would i have felt empty like its now...and tend to search for new muse each time.

There's maybe a weakness- an obsession to pursue things in sequential manner- it fumbles me to do the things in criss-cross ways- though there might be a lot like these in daily lives...but such thing is like stuck in.

and what i studied now- this was one thing that always moved me to tears.

Its kind of hard for the world to accept- that i had different dreams then those usual dreamers, that i wished to do things very different.

Now it feels as the fire that's converting to ashes- the heart settles for the mediocrity- agreeing to accept the rules for lust of desires. the mind that is perplexed into the right and wrong, diplomatic to such an extend that tiny decisions i take and turn them as disaster, and worst enough not being able to decide-'At All' - the most important things.

At times feels such a furious rush of thoughts- the fear for future- the kids if i ever had- and this  diplomacy will lead me far deep into- imperfection.

The fears that lead to 'leaving' things undone when i run down the aisels of complications, failing to solve the problem- or maybe i never understand a thing about them. the fears that lead me to push away the important bondings- just in order to prove some fake fatal trimph of the egos over others- realising the wrongs am conducting, yet a laid back perception to let it all pass and let the surrounding keep injecting into me all forms of blues to shutdown the rivers of red.

Its not like blaming anyone for anything- indeed i believe there maybe truly inspiring individuals who had been raised up in exactly same circumstances and had a caliber enough to break from the shackels of the world...that moment i wait for. (diplomacy, yet again)

...settled mind that will be broken to pieces to write an own authentic story...!

that link i was reading--- (http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2005/feb/19/fiction.kazuoishiguro)