Good things under a stupid title

If it is possible for someone to feel stupid and awesome at the same time, I am feeling it.

I don’t know how to explain. I will try nonetheless.

A few days ago, I learned about an online competition that was going to end on the midnight of 7th, December, 2014.

I was very excited; partly because I am fond of writing. Too much fond. And partly because poetry has never been my thing. I decided to participate, nevertheless. Days went by and I completely lost the track of time until tonight. Around 11:20 pm, it struck me that I had 40 minutes left to devise a killer poetry out of whatever passion I claimed I had in me. Almost 7-8 minutes passed while running to my room and looking everywhere for my laptop. I ran through the competition details and read ’30 lines maximum’. Yes, that’s where my stupidity enters the scene. If sweating is possible in winters, I was probably at it. I unfolded the piece of paper on which I had hastily scribbled a six-line poetry in the afternoon. Dread filled me when I realized I had two blunt pathways to choose: continuing the poetry and spend the next few minutes in utter misery trying to force the words out of me or shutting the laptop and welcome the cosy embrace of my bed. I had to decide and it had to be QUICK.

Every instinct told me I won’t make it. As hard as it has always been for me to make decisions, the same instincts pushed me to start typing- not necessarily a masterpiece but anything that could keep me going.

Absolutely bewildered-for the ideas had stopped coming by now and I had to fix those lonely six lines that stared back at me, demanding- I did what I do best. I chilled out. Haha well, not exactly. But I messaged that one friend of mine who is never afraid of finding flaws in me. Needless to say, she is also very annoyed at my tendency for writing romantic pieces every so often.

I told her I had to write something about a boy and make him seem strong by the end of the poetry. She told me the only end coming to her mind was suicide. And I told her I had something else in my mind. I had almost turned my poetry into a romantic piece when she read those six lines and told me it was the ‘perfect setting’ for a boy who had been abused as a child.

As much as is poetry not my thing, contemplating action or suspense in my writings is not either. And as if I was reading a book and desperate to know what picture would the end paint, I went on. I kept writing until I had written 27 lines. I glanced at the clock to see the amount of treasure I was left with.

4 minutes to be exact.

I typed, struck, examined and deleted…until finally I was done.

Featured Image

31 lines.

I just skimmed through it one last time as the clocked barked 11:59 pm. In a few seconds the form was filled, and submitted with feelings of stupidity, accomplishment and what not! For it was while filling the form that I realized the details said ‘5 lines minimum’ and ’30 lines maximum’!

And I realized it had not been so bad after all. In about 20 minutes I wrote a completely different genre- something so unlike all my past written pieces; something I never imagined I could do. I felt sweet. And even more when my  friend told me it was ‘one of my bests’ (though I am not sure how she would have responded had I told her the lame title I came up with). Considering how rarely she praises things that have anything to do with me, I certainly felt wonderful. It was a glorious triumph. I found I do not care so much about who wins the competition now. I found I am much more interested to uncover everything else I am capable of.

Robert A.Heinlein once said, ‘Never underestimate the power of human stupidity.’

Dear Sir, forgive me if I am not exactly aware of who you are or were, but never indeed!

Picture source: A blog I’m very fond of:


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