I love writing about how on a December morning a stray dog's breath adds to the mist, or how the snail on the creeper in my balcony is a metaphor I have to put in formaldehyde to be used for another 1:18 am urge of speaking to someone not available.
One of the best things you can do to yourself is, find a favorite character in a novel or a movie, and live with her… her trials and tribulations, her life, her words, her thoughts, the way she puts on her pinafore in a certain way. That’s the pleasure of reading. And this is what Literary Impulse intends to do. We are a bunch of people who want to create a vast ocean of words and more and more beautiful words while taking long swims in them at the same time, finding a favorite character in them, our favorite lines, quotes, words, emotions. We are looking for those impulses that don’t feel like ones, that are so well-thought-out that they appear to have come out of themselves.
And with these words, I would like to formally welcome Pragya in our team who considers herself as one of those people who loved sentences so much that she became a lawyer. Bad puns and even worse philosophical references are the things her bag has, other than books. The caffeinated hobbit that she is hoards stuff, people, facts, books, and emotions, in ascending quantities.
Welcome to Literary Impulse, “writing hobbit.” Now let us switch to what writing means for her, in her own words.
“Speaking to someone not available, is what writing is to me. That includes 'K' to your best friend, e-mail to your client, a post it on your fridge, a grocery list for your sibling, and a social media rant on righteous or how lit a particular slang is, to the grandest novels and profoundest poetries. All meant for someone not available, someone not listening to something you need to say.
“So, growing up, I listened to a lot of people who weren't speaking to me, and as was wont to happen their manner of speaking seeped into mine. If you were to meet me you could find Camus arguing with Vyasa on the efficacy of black coffee, Shankaracharya questioning Aristotle's rhetoric and Cohen's popularity, Woolf and Nietzsche, and Blyton not agreeing with Rega Jha on how to make a perfect cup of coffee, while Roy offers Hemingway a ride to the oldest tavern in New Delhi, I write about these things and about ceiling fans reminding me of Sisyphus. And the little things I have not read about, I write about those, I love writing about how on a December morning a stray dog's breath adds to the mist, or how the snail on the creeper in my balcony is a metaphor I have to put in formaldehyde to be used for another 1:18 am urge of speaking to someone not available.”
(Keta Nachi, 17/07/2020)