A beginning, the start of something new, revisiting old resolutions, fulfilment of old promises, of new ones. Each year, each month, each week, each day, I pledge to write more, to capture those fleeting thoughts, words that keep arranging and rearranging themselves within the realms of my head; when travelling through the streets of my adopted city gazing out of the dusty glass panes, when simulations at work never stop and require no intervention, when hypnotized by the spell of thoughts in a crowded room, when alone upon the terrace watering the plants, when rambling through lonesome and swarming streets, I lose myself to my thoughts and my mind gambols and rambles through the terrain of patchwork thoughts and ideas. I swear to put them into paper, mostly in vain. And reasons for the unsuccessful attempts never seem to end.

A new year and like every other year ‘I say a little prayer’ that this will be my year. I am secretly hoping, earnestly praying, zealously working to prevent the same act of sulking on the fifty-second week of each year, glad the year is almost over and a new year in a week’s time will surely usher in new beginnings. I believe I got the idea quite wrong if not entirely wrong. ‘It’s all in the head’, someone dear always claims and adds, ‘One day at a time’. I have to admit that I’m not a very optimistic person, or a very positive person (physically yes, but that is another story), nor am I out and out pessimistic. Rational and practical is what I rather call myself. I agree what we perceive, what we see is greatly a projection of what lies inside the convolutions of the mind but there is the other half, the external influence. I refuse to be completely optimistic, maybe someday, may be one day but not today, not yet. I need my dosage of melancholy. I cannot look at life through rose tinted glasses lest I fall flat when a manhole of sorrow remains uncovered and I find myself sinking. One would suggest that a rubber-tube of optimism would keep me buoyant. I do not disagree nor completely agree. My thoughts will dangerously swing towards one argument that ‘one day’. Until then I choose to be rational.

Ah! I have meandered much from my intention. With ‘one day at a time’, majorly influenced by someone who weaved magic in the latter half of the previous year, I begin. I shall ramble through terrains of thoughts and ramble through pages, capturing those thoughts until they find permanence in paper. This shall be my Genesis!


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