By Tiruvarur Vikram
As I sit and travel across the country, I feel it once again. A fleeting feeling that hits me seldom, but every time it does, I feel almost obliged to contemplate. “Why is it that I feel this way now”? I ask myself. The answer is hard to explain, primarily because it is a feeling. Feelings are better felt than explained.
I feel akin to a writer as I type. Is that comparable to someone who can run but isn’t a professional sprinter and every other similar analogy your mind can make up? I don’t know. Why am I writing here? The feeling doesn’t last long and once it’s gone it feels much like I’ve woken up from a peaceful dream that I have no recollection of. I want to put down the feeling into words now, for I don’t know when I might feel this way again. My best explanation of the origin to this feeling is that it takes a few factors or ingredients to come together to cause it. I wish I had something to call this feeling. I want to give it a name, an identity. For the lack of a better name, I shall just call it a spark now. Spark, however is an understatement to what I felt and continue to feel as I write now.
I shall delve into the spark now. The spark to me is what the apple was for Newton, with one fundamental difference, as the spark hits, I begin to question everything, existence and the meaning of it, but can’t give a name to the primal force. I wonder if gravity was newton’s name to the spark.
What causes the spark in me? Having felt this a few times before I now see a pattern to the cause of it.
Serenity – In my case, now - The vast open roads, however it is extremely variable.
Lack of distractions- Decided to put my phone away today.
No stray thoughts or worries- I tend to manage to make that happen every now and then.
When these ingredients combine with other factors and certain unexplainable catalysts, it causes the spark in me. However merely getting these factors together in an attempt to recreate the spark has failed every time. It happens when it has to and I haven’t been able to make it happen out of the blue, making it even more special as I have it now. Sigh! I really need a better name that can do the feeling justice.
Beyond the origins is the effect. The effect isn’t always existential grief. I have channelled liberation, gratefulness, grandiose and awe at the thought of existence through the spark. It’s made me write things, which I can hardly comprehend when I look at later after the spark has fleeted away. Am I possessed by a force? A beautiful force? Am I the only one who feels this way or does everyone feel it and choose to ignore it or call it by different names? I seek answers and I believe they lie within the fabric that binds me together.
Like all good things it’s coming to an end, I feel the spark wearing off, I no longer feel like a writer. I merely write now. Reading this back, I find it a little difficult to comprehend the meaning of it. Days later, I might even say, Oh God! What was that? Was it me who wrote this or was it………….
By Tiruvarur Vikram
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