Why history?

Why History?

I always wonder, what do they search for in the leftovers of the past.
Leftovers of the winds that never blow the same way,
I guess they could look at a dune and perceive where exactly it was yesterday.
I always scratch my head when they force their way into those darkly illuminated rooms, rummage though the books of time,
and try to read those faded words 'on which time has rested forever.
I wonder still when they shout they have read the words prefectly clear,
almost as if they had have visions 'bout them.

I am amazed at how they try to deduce from the footprints time has left,
wonder they think they are incarnations of Holmes or what.

But what bewilders me most is do they really believe they could recreate the past,
or they just wanna build a past of their own so that they could hang their future 'on it.


 

Maladies of a failed writer!

Maladies of a failed writer

Someday i' m gonna write something very cool, something superbly fantastic, something vivaciously vibrating or what they call, 'Magnum Opus'.Something, which won't have these many adjectives and adverbs hanging about amidst the lines.It would have pure thoughts which go beyond words and sounds.
This is the pledge i've made to my reading subconscience who thinks i can pick a pen and scratch it on the paper and then thoughts, characters, poetries and what not will fly out of it. He believes someday my written words will carry weight, unlike me. He has faith that someday my words will be marked.
But how do i tell him that the Almighty hasn't provided me with one important mental component which a normal guy calls,'imagination'. I never can draw courage to whisper to him that whenever i pick up my pen all that flies off the paper is the dust settled on it. Whenever i've fiddled with my pen, i've generated a piece much boring than this.
But do i really need to possess this so called imagination to write? Can't i just observe the world around me, the picturesque, piquant world and just write what i see or 'observe'. That's what those non-fiction writers do. But what is there to be written about? What I observe is also there for others to see. Even if i write will they start observing?
This means i can only cast some sesquipedalians into a beautiful mould which may look good but make no sense.
Knock Knock.
Me: Who's there?
Voice: Your reading subconscience. Say have you created something with your pen lately?
Me: Sure. I was doing this. Have a look.
( After pondering over it for some time..)
Voice: Reads good, but what does it mean?
Me: I don't know! I just went with the flow, just as they say.
Voice: Then it must be good. Keep up the good work.(leaves)
Me: He liked it! I don't see what he liked in this. But as long as he's satisfied...