A-Z Challenge Blog-posts -- A for April

a-z challenge blog posts

A for april

      To T.S. Eliot April may have been a cruel month, an extension of the festering, morbid seasons his wasteland cradled in its jorum. My young mind, however, differs considerably with the great poet in its opinion of April: to me it is a beautiful time of the year when the earth seems to be swelling with the new buds and the world looks all bright and enthusiastic. It is a month which brings in the soft, permeating and flowery odor of new-beginnings, new life burgeons in the clammy cells of the sleepy earth. We get ready for summer, the vigorous season of the year. To me April is full of promises of a soon-to-be floriferous future when buds in my little garden will bloom, and the park outside my apartment will look all vivacious and comfortable. I dream on the first day of the month about its fruits and blessings and smile with contentment. The soft early morning light that comes in through the window of my study and the smell of the green leaves of the hibiscus nodding its leafy branches in the delicately warm wind fills me with exquisite positive energy. The blogging challenge I took upon seems full of creative prospects. What more can a writer ask for than the opportunity to sit at her desk and write her mind? And when that task is performed every day, the creative-delight is limitless. I think of the letters I have at hand: B-Z, and envision the innumerable topics I can write about. The mind is bombarded with thoughts hitting the darkened walls of that sinuous department with ideas, words, and images. The images are positively brilliant; I feel I can touch them with my fingertips. I wonder if the magic of creating sentences is intensified by the libanophorous April waiting at my doorstep like Santa Claus on Christmas with his bag full of creative-prompts. I am sure it is. There is something in the light-warmth emanating from the sun-risen azure that assures me that April does whisper paeans of beauty and creativity to those who cares to listen to her.

   As I type my first entry of the blogging challenge, I hear the meta-voice cheerily chirping away words and sentences, unbeknownst to me, unconscious of the presence of the stolid critic that denies any flight of imagination. Today I see my poetic spirit chiming Keats’ lines from his Ode to the Nightingale:

   “Away! away! for I will fly to thee,

   Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,

   But on the viewless wings of Poesy”

     My mind now wishes that it rides the unfurled wings of poetic creation and begets new ideas every morn when I will be composing my blog posts. The opportunity of getting up every day and writing for an hour or so before the quotidian rigors start seem delicious. Like a child bracing herself for a day at school with a bit of playtime activity, I let my rambling mind write words without cessation. I feel liberated; writing is indeed amazing. I have often wished that I could leave the world and its demands aside and write away to my heart’s content. On this beautiful day of the first day of April I am glad I am doing just that. One mistake we writers often make is that we don’t write much, and that way we experience creative blocks, which frustrate and disillusion us. I feel that if I were to write every day, even under the compulsion of catering to the guidelines of a bloggling challenge, which states in unequivocal terms that you must write daily, I am doing a service to my creative spirit in preparing it to return to its habit of writing on a daily basis despite the enervating toils of each day.

   The April outside my window, the April of my optimism, the April of my imagination all assure me that I can surely do it. I remember how I loved the movie Julie and Julia directed by Norah Ephron where the protagonist Julie Powell discovered her love for food and blogging when she indulged in both in a moment of creative frenzy. Julie used to wake up every day and head for the computer to type away her blog-posts. Here I am doing exactly the same and feeling that human nature every where is similar: we all love giving tongue to our thoughts. And in this April amid the buds and the greens, the sun and the heat, the birds and the truculent commuters in the metro, I will look for new beginnings, new ideas to belabor and talk about everyday till the month ends, or possibly even after the final song is sung by maiden April.

 

                                Little bell-pepper buds about to bloom in my garden