I greet the first rays of the sun with half open eyes. I can feel that familiar sense of dissent spreading through my body. With clockwise precision, I fill my cup with the hot, brown stew. As I take a measured sip from my cup, I can feel the caffeine traveling through my veins. I can feel it awakening my sleep deprived brain. My eyes lighten. I feel rejuvenated. Another sunny day. A day filled with possibilities. With renewed vigor, I spring from my sofa only to hit my head against something solid. I nurse my injured forehead and take a second look at my obstructer. I find a giant, wooden cube taking up my living room. I have no idea how this piece of wood found its way into my nest. Puzzled, I give it a gentle push. I feel a sharp pain as tiny droplets of blood start to appear on my fingers. I suck my injured finger; my other hand scratching my head. I know that I have to get rid of this ugly block, but I don’t know how. I bandage my injured fingers with my dupatta and inspect the wooden block to find any smooth edges. I quickly proceed to summon all the energy that I have to push the cube. To my dismay, I find it standing exactly where it was. Clueless, I narrate this weird happening to the newspaper reading, coffee sipping co-inhabitant of mine. I can see a pair of eyes look away from the newspaper, towards the cube and then back again to the paper. All I hear is a small grunt about the non existence of the object in question. Disgruntled, I try my hand once more at pushing this away. I am greeted by failure. The clock ticks away and the scheduled activities of the day need my immediate attention. I decide to procrastinate this activity until the evening.
I come back to my nest at twilight and turn my key in the lock. The door creaks open slowly. I look intently in the darkness, hoping to not see that block; hoping that whatever brought it here has now taken it back. I carefully turn on a single bulb, wishing to see my living room, the way it was before. Alas! I can see that block still in its occupied territory, reflecting the light from the lone, bright bulb. Frustrated, I kick it, only to scream in agony. I decide to retire for the day and pray for it to disappear by the next morning.
My prayers are not answered as I have to contend with that ugly block the following morning too. And the following evening. And the next day. And the following day. And the following endless days in the calendar. Often, I try to close my eyes and imagine that it didn’t exist at all. But once I open my eyes, I know that it is there. I try to work my way around the block. I try to ignore its presence in my nest. I try to not think of it. But the moment I let my thoughts wander, they hit that wooden block and go no further.
As I type, I can see the block sitting happily in its fortress. I can feel it smiling triumphantly at me. It knows that it hasn’t been conquered yet. It looks at all my unsuccessful attempts and adorns a smug look on its visage. Probably, it hopes that it can make my nest its permanent abode. But I cannot let that happen. I cannot lose. I cannot let a block of wood win. I need to reclaim what was rightfully mine. I can no longer let a stranger share my roof and destroy me. There can only be one winner and that has to be me.
Determined, I gather my thoughts and pull out my laptop. I scribble the random thoughts that come to me in an aimless fashion. I stop in the middle to take a look at my opponent. I can see tiny cracks appear on its once flawless body. I start typing harder and faster. Through the corner of my eye, I can see that block disintegrating. Smiling wickedly, I compete my keystrokes and hit the ‘publish’ button. Satisfied, I turn to face my blackmailer. I see the once immovable wooden threatener now burst into flames. I unflinchingly stare at the block burning to ashes. Calmly, I blow away the fine powder that now rests on my floor.
I shut my door and heave a sigh of relief.
The writer’s block has been demolished.
The Manga Pachadi 