Inked Thoughts


After a day of fun or annoyance or dejection or just mere boredom, writing is the only getaway for a girl who has an abundance of thoughts and feelings, too overwhelming to keep them in and too personal to say them aloud. To such a girl, not being able to write is a nightmare and not wanting to write, a living hell. And in the midst of it all, the medium of writing is a dilemma difficult to overcome.

While I find the idea of writing on a blank sheet of paper with a fluid pen, regal and tempting, there is a comfort in the keyboard of my laptop or the keypad of my smart phone. Though the sight of a person bent over a paper, holding a pen in his hand, engrossed in deep thoughts evokes a certain charm and fascination, when I sit down to try and create a masterpiece, I become aware of the triviality of the words I write, the sentences I present and the ideas they portray. When I do resolve to write a good readable piece in my diary, I end up with only a page full of cuts and scratches and only a few insignificant depictions of my grand imagination. When I am frustrated with the quiet glide of the pen across the page, the soft clicking sound of the keys of the laptop comfort me. When my good handwriting seems too good and my bad handwriting seems too bad and the overall writing ever changing, the monotony of the fonts relieve me from the indecisiveness and ordeal of maintaining a specific script.

And yet, sometimes, I get the greatest ideas and the finest words to express them when I have a pen in my hand and a blank sheet staring back at me waiting to be filled up with the innumerable tales that swarm my mind, both true and made-up. Though I wish a small glimpse of me writing inspires another to endeavor to explore the depth and joy of writing, it remains an unapproachable and unachievable fantasy to me that I can only look at and admire from afar.

~Samikshya Mishra


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