on the days i don't teach -- that is, tuesdays and thursdays-- my day starts with a rhythm. i wake up around 6.00 am, leave my bed around 6.30 am, bring my green blanket onto the new couch, make myself a cup of tulsi chai, and sit down. i read a few poems, write a few lines. my goal these days is to write 2 lines every day. if i succeed, i forgive myself for the rest of the day. on these days, i mostly succeed to write more than 2. in an hour or so, m gets up, and our living room fills with the sound of the coffee-grinder, and the smell of fresh coffee.
on the days i teach-- that is, mondays, wednesdays and fridays-- i wake up around the same time. but, instead of sitting down with my notebook, i prepare for my classes. i feel breathless, spent. i long for the quiet of those mornings when i have the luxury of heralding the sun with my newly scribbled lines. but, this is life for me right now. scribbling lines when i can. yet, this month i have finished a long poem -- a long poem that i am proud of.
when i write academic essays -- i write counting every word, stopping for breath. when i write poems-- i write to translate in shape whatever is inside. i write to get that part of myself onto page that no one wants. that is why, my academic essays take away my breath. and my poems give me back my breath. that's also how i feel when i cook -- i get myself back a little bit.
yet, i know, i am learning things from this job-- i am reading books i haven't read before, but should have. i am putting forward new readings of these texts in front of my students. i am expanding myself as a reader. i want to believe-- somewhere, somehow-- this also contributes to my becoming a better writer.
and, that's all i can hope for! putting in this work, sending my work out, polishing, revising, writing, re-revising. fifteen minutes everyday...if not fifteen, then five. even on the days i am running to campus, after putting together my class materials hurriedly, this is do-able...and, for now, that's all i want to do!
on the days i teach-- that is, mondays, wednesdays and fridays-- i wake up around the same time. but, instead of sitting down with my notebook, i prepare for my classes. i feel breathless, spent. i long for the quiet of those mornings when i have the luxury of heralding the sun with my newly scribbled lines. but, this is life for me right now. scribbling lines when i can. yet, this month i have finished a long poem -- a long poem that i am proud of.
when i write academic essays -- i write counting every word, stopping for breath. when i write poems-- i write to translate in shape whatever is inside. i write to get that part of myself onto page that no one wants. that is why, my academic essays take away my breath. and my poems give me back my breath. that's also how i feel when i cook -- i get myself back a little bit.
yet, i know, i am learning things from this job-- i am reading books i haven't read before, but should have. i am putting forward new readings of these texts in front of my students. i am expanding myself as a reader. i want to believe-- somewhere, somehow-- this also contributes to my becoming a better writer.
and, that's all i can hope for! putting in this work, sending my work out, polishing, revising, writing, re-revising. fifteen minutes everyday...if not fifteen, then five. even on the days i am running to campus, after putting together my class materials hurriedly, this is do-able...and, for now, that's all i want to do!
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