The Last Piece
Writer, that’s what I have been called over the years. My association with words dates back to the 90s when I was just another heartbroken teenager trying to cope up with my depression and solitude. I was from a prestigious family and had been to a renowned school, hence my relation with literature was strong enough to serve as the biggest influence in my career as a writer.
I have been often asked, ‘How do you get the ideas?’ And my reply throughout the journey has been the same, ‘I never think before writing. I just pick my pen and start with the first thing that crosses my mind at that particular moment.’ I have written numerous stories, poems, articles, quotes and things as such. Some were published, some were not. Some were criticized, while some were appreciated. Some with happy endings and some with sad ones.
You might be wondering now, what this particular write up is all about. Well, this is my last piece of writing, this is the last time I will be writing anything. This is the last time my pen, which has been my companion over the years, will bleed emotions. This is the last time a part of my soul will no longer remain hidden. This is the last time the titles like ‘Storyteller’, ‘Creator’, ‘Artist’ or ‘Poet’, which I have been awarded by my readers, will hold their true meaning.
It’s not that I can no longer write or I am devoid of ideas or emotions, it’s just that I no longer want to write. I want to stop writing before death embraces me. I started writing on my own and I can’t let death stop me; when you start something, only you have the right to stop it. I want to die with people wondering what more I could have written had I not stopped. Living my life as a writer, I have seen and experienced everything. I have written about a childless mother, an orphan, a doctor who had to operate on his own son, a lover whose beloved betrayed him for someone else, a serial killer who killed people for the sake of fun and sadism, a slave, and everything and anything you could ever think of. And I literally felt and lived each one of my character’s emotions while writing about them.
I know people will come to me after this and will ask me to write more and not stop, and with a voice calm and composed, I will say, (half of which will be true and half, false), ‘I have shared everything I had. Each one of my stories, be it personal or fictional, are out there in one form or the other. The moment I picked up a pen, I knew my life would no longer remain mine. But now, I want to stop. The nightmares I used to write about no longer haunt me, they are my friends now. The heartbreaks that I often wrote about don’t have the same effect now. The broken dreams of characters were actually mine once, but now I have lived through them. I am a writer and will continue to remain one but that doesn’t mean I will have to continue writing.’
~ Viwanshu Vaibhaw | Edited by Afreen Zeb