Do words have magic in them?

I sometimes rummage in the crevices of consciousness for words, just some words and not necessarily ones that serve any purpose of communication, for very often either I feel there is nothing to communicate or I sort of feel like communicating with no apparent purpose. I also strain to recall the words of someone from past conversations, trying to picture the setting and the posture of the person who said something that I probably thought was worth remembering at that time. I also attempt, with no less intensity, to recapture the words from a book that might set me off on a composing enterprise. For I wonder unceasingly whether we, or should I say I, to be safe, write actually what I want to or propose to or what I have more or less already finished writing in my head, the latter a case of words tumbling out of a template in my brain to assume a form that is to the writer more satisfying and perhaps less capable of allowing the words the escape they might possibly crave or concoct.

I nurse the faint hope that words, even a few, dragged from the past and given a fresh lease of life, can set in motion events that unfold through characters and, more important, through the words and actions of those characters. It feels like someone hoping that the recalcitrant car, after being given a rest and a chance to reflect on its resistance, will cool down and start, for one to continue on the journey. Maybe we should give names to our vehicles and other contraptions and treat them like family, for them to feel nice and cooperate always.

I look up at the page I desired, if not was determined, to populate with words, and it stares back at me blankly in all its whiteness. I look around at objects, imploring them to ignite a start. The dictionary, my constant ally and guide, smug at the bulk of its worth, sits unmoved and out of context, ignoring my aphasia.

Their brooding interrupted, the skies open and it begins to pour. Loosening up, the head begins to transmit portions of a bundled content in a thin flow and simultaneously the tips of my fingers feel the pulsation.


About Vaidy

Freelance writer based in Chennai, India. Writes in English and Tamil. Recent major assignments have been in Transcreation - adaptation of TV Commercials from English to Tamil.
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