Would You Rather Loose Your Ability To Write Or Your Ability To See?

Mother says it's easy to fall in love but hard to love, and that they are two largely different things. She said she never fell in love with me; she just loved me, and I understood exactly why a mother's love persists in all the places where others subside. 

Shayan Das

"So, what of next year's resolutions?", I heard my friend ask the other day and found myself stuck in a quiet storm, stirring the ache of all the changes I'd wished for but never lived this year. New days, new weeks, new months, new years—how often I've chased the illusion of 'new', convinced that everything would start from the very beginning—only to find myself, each day, pleading for the following day—begging each week for another week. How dearly I've celebrated the turning of each year, like prophets ushering in salvation, only to discover the freshness of the same calendar fading by February, the corners dog-eared, and promises—so solemnly sworn—becoming ghosts lingering in the silence of unkempt rooms. As if the trees that shed their twigs in autumn do not grow the same leaves with the same roots in spring—as if when flipping pages in a book, the story never retains its plot—as if the mere change of a night could unshackle the chains of a lifelong sorrow.

Shayan Das, New Year's Resolutions

People think they fail in vain, but I say 'in vain' is a phrase for the defeatists. You might never know how unexpectedly your failure brings a rain of gratification in the sunburnt deserts of your adversaries, how miraculously it acts as a source of hope for all those who doubt their aptitudes all day long only 'cause they can't beat you and how enigmatically it opens infinite pages to be a bit more resilient, a bit more powerful, a bit stronger perhaps no book or teacher can ever make you comprehend the same. 

Shayan Das

Love me, I'll write good poems. Break my heart, and I'll write better poetry.

What made me fall for fall is that it revealed the only ways to romanticize letting go. 🍁

Shayan Das

Are you really writing poetry since you were 11 ? The themes that you write with just have a wholly different and mature kind of vibe. To be frank, I just fell in love with your writing style at the very first glance. Now, if you're wondering, I'm not an adult like you, I'm just a 15 year old boy who is stuck in an environment where most people (most) don't have any appreciation for the beaty of the simple things in life and are too much focused on moving forward rather than taking some time to their selves. They have all forgotten that sometimes it's ok to sit idle and do nothing. Just gaze at the starry sky or the spring blossoms. So, I took to poetry to relieve myself and for the first time in 2 years I have known a marvellous person like you who wants to appreciate the little joys of life observe the personalities of other people from a different point of view. When I first read your posts I was dumbfounded, to be honest, and so I just want to congratulate you on your success in literature and romanticism and also for reminding me that there are other people like me. And lastly, love your work, keep going <3.

Gosh, this is everything! I can't thank you enough for writing this. Yes, I've been writing since I was 11 obsessed with Shelley/Keats and the entire Romantic movement, maybe not as fervently as now but yes those were some of the most promising times of my life, promising in the sense that there were little to no restrictions on my writing process be it academics or something else. I'm sorry that you're unable to find like-minded people around you entirely but then aren't we all on the same bus? But the best thing is that we needn't change people's perceptions. Everyone has their own ideologies and even existing in a time like ours with a realistic attitude (leave the romantic) is a matter of sheer audacity and courage. I remember the day after writing the last exam of my grade 10th finals. I was convincing my father about my ardent interest to take creative writing instead of medicine for further studies and heard him saying, "The seas might look the best things to romanticize so as long you're hydrated but in the fullness of time, you'll find 'tis the clouds invariably not seas which can quench your thirst". And I was convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt how people are born romantic and made realists.

** And lastly I'm not an adult as well making sagacious remarks on life & love. I'm 19 y/o and more or less in a similar situation as yours or maybe more tangled, striving every moment against worldly notions and seeking escapism through art. Thanks for asking and wish you a great day/evening/night ahead. <3

What comes to your mind when you behold the moon? Her beauty, her sobriety, her ataraxy? Does she arouse you with her esoteric charm or take you to an uncharted land where you lie composedly amidst your materiality and hallucinations? Whatever it may be, the bitter reality is that whatever the moon possesses is all borrowed from someone else, who in turn is rough, harsh, and relentless. But does it create any discrepancy? Don’t you love her? Or does she not bring you the memories of your foregone romance? Those promiscuous kisses and vehement embraces? In life, try to consume the acrimony of others and spread the art of mellowness through your moves, for, in the long run, it’s not what you receive but what you give that makes all the difference!

Shayan Das

Every road I abandoned is the shortest that leads home today; every star that slipped added some more nights without sleep. The things I battled for are today in battle against me; the birds I pursued are the birds I left behind. "Maybe you never had a dream, and if you did have one, you never believed in it", I heard my friends saying, and all that I remembered were the saplings that were uprooted and planted on lands where most of their kinds thrived, the mouths that were shut with examples of stomachs that dried, the legs that couldn't fold themselves to keep the heads high, and the heads that were taught to dream but never offered the chance to dream freely.

Shayan Das

The problem with being an artist is that you are expected to make pain beautiful; make your insecurities look drop-dead gorgeous, albeit knowing that with every stone turned to gold, you're deprived of using it to build a home. A good friend of mine once said to me that to make art is to bear a fruit. When the fruit fails to taste delectable, you don't say just the fruit is bad; you point out that the plant is bad. When the art doesn't relate to or contradict your own convictions, you don't merely complain the art is bad; you indicate the artist is bad.

Shayan Das