Poems, Me, and NClub*

Okay… Nothing new. As it always happens, the things I want, I hope for and I wish for happen at unexpected times, when I’m so not prepared.

And that fateful (:P) NClub* meeting . God that was hell. Oh by the way, NClub* is a club where we, members, write for our newspaper. The outcome, the paper which is finally published is pretty good. I mean, everyone likes Grandma Grandpa Talks right. So yeah, the outcome is pretty cool. But what we go through for that final thing is…

My friend and I sat there… Our eyes and mind, both were outside. What would we not give (okay, there’s a contradiction down there) for getting out there, playing Badminton/Football (Soccer for some) and have fun and laugh with all the others instead of sitting here and listening to the same thing over and over again: Dedication, 100% efforts (I guess this is what Fazeel, the Chief Editor, meant when he said 100% effort, pay attention to the stuff being ‘discussed’ in the ‘meeting’), and the same old lack of punctuations, use MS Word for writing, blah blah. God, it was boring!!!

So anyway, I had nothing to contribute. I just sat there, looking at them. I thought, “Who the hell is going to work for this? Its easy, anyway, I can skip this saying that I’m in 10^th, and I’m studying" when I was not even trying. So there I was, thinking the stuff I shouldn’t. But the fact is that I was feeling guilty. In the deepest part of my heart, I was guilty, and if I was being true to myself then, I was really really guilty. They were counting on me. Okay, no boasting, but they were counting on me. I don’t know up to what extent, but they were. I was one of the four people who attend every meeting without fail. And I mean it. We contributed, in each and every edition, we contributed. And today I was there, empty handed. Nothing to give. I didn’t even think about it, not even once in the holidays.

And my friend said, “Give your poems na, at least one. That way you don’t have to work. You don’t have ideas na, so just give one of them.” Ugh, this idea seemed good to me! Damn, something more to add to my guilt. Those poems were dedications…!!! How could I even think of giving them to save myself from working…!!! They were dedications, and I tell you, not a word of them was untrue, not a word of them was false, as in to add to the poetic style or anything. Each and every word was felt, was inspired! And I was sitting there, thinking of giving them away..!! Okay, so I know I’m a weird person. Some of you would ask me, “Why couldn’t you just give them? They were just some poems. At the end of the day, they still are written by you and for the same person you wrote them for!” But coming back to the same point, I’m a weird and crazy person. I believe that when I dedicate a poem to someone, I can show them only to people who know, who UNDERSTAND that my poem is for that one extremely special person, who means so much to me that all the words in the dictionary together wouldn’t be enough. I feel like, I’m betraying them. I don’t know if betraying is the right word.

But maybe I am kidding myself again. I mean, I guess I was too attached to the poems to put them for public display. I’m selfish, or just plain crazy or my brain doesn’t work in the same frequency as others’ do. So there was the truth, clear as water: I was too attached to them.

In some of the scriptures I’ve heard of, they say people shouldn’t be attached to anything, not family, not friends, not belongings, nothing. And me? Hah. I’m attached to almost everything in my life. Believe it or not, I count my paint bottles! I check if that favourite sparkly pencil of mine is with me or not. I check if I keep my book in which I write everyday in my bag. Like I just can not afford to let go of it! If my friend leaves the school, I burst into tears! I cry for more than a week. I still miss my friends who left the school. Okay, so that’s me. Extreme attachment or extreme detachment. So I don’t know. They say when you are detached from all the ‘worldly pleasures’, you will be happy. But I’m happy. In fact, the fact that I’m attached to my stuff makes me feel happy!

Am I crazy or what?!

There… coming back to my first line. Nothing new… All this is about one millionth of what is going on in my mind as of now.

* Names Changed, for my safety