I suffer from a phenomenon whereby my creative skills get stimulated only when I have some other pressing matter at hand. During school, I remember having an idea for not one, but TWO novels in the 10th grade a month before my final exams. I wrote a couple of chapters with meticulous planning, recognising that the call of inspiration needed to be heeded more than the mediocrity of academics. It was all going very well till my exams ended and writer’s block set in. For the next two months, I sat at home watching TV, craving school and essentially bored out of my wits. The novels never saw the light of day.
Two years later, in the midst of a model biology test held by a centre that coached us for entrance exams, I realised I was not only a writer but a gifted composer as well. The music came out of nowhere, and while all the others in the hall shaded the bubbles with gusto, I wrote down lyrics on the back of the question paper and finished my first song in fifteen minutes. The next time catharsis struck was during a second test two months later, and although the song started off well, I couldn’t get past two stanzas. I hummed the song in my shower in desperation numerous times, but that bolt of lightening evaded me – until the day I sat at the hall of the ACTUAL test, the one that would decide if I could get into medical school or not. And voila! The second stanza came gushing out as everyone furiously worked their pens. Contrary to expectations, I got into medical school and (surprise, surprise!) I never composed again. I still bask, albeit grumpily, in the glory of those two songs.
Fast forward to 2016 when I supposedly prepared for the next biggest challenge of my life – entrance into a speciality course. I had no idea what I wanted, except that there was no way I could do the whole preparation thing again. Stress, check. Turning point of life, check. And before I knew it, yours truly had started a blog and was minting out posts by the dozen. It has got to be the most creative time of my life. Anything and everything evoked deep thoughts and poetry, and all of a sudden my 8 MP phone camera was miraculously able to capture breathtaking shots. Officially a writer and talented photographer in the making. Or so I thought. Well you can guess the rest. Once I stepped into the threshold of the post-graduate course, the clock struck twelve, iPhone turned Android and the blog posts dwindled into near-oblivion.
Till now. Final year exams are right around the corner, and whaddyaknow, my innovative traits are back. I have a presentation tomorrow that I’m barely prepared for, and here I am, chugging out post after post.
But it is not only writing that draws me in now; after being married for over a year and surviving on take-out since I loathe cooking, my culinary side has finally caught up with me. This week bore witness to me cooking my heart out – breakfast and dinner every day for Mr Beloved, and with such furore! Every day I experiment with a different type of chutney, pretending not to notice his quizzical (but delighted) glances at my newly acquired ‘wife-ing’ skills.
The exams are set to fall toward the end of November, which gives me three solid months to unleash my inner chef. Like they say, I might as well make hay while the sun shines. Or perhaps cauliflower fritters while the oil is hot.