Sunday 10 May 2020

Mankirat Randhawa, Third Prize, Prose 500, 2020

I Held A Moment

And then there were days when I gazed into a mysterious infinite in my mind, thinking what to write. Not that I did not have anything to begin with. There was so much on my plate, it felt like a whirlwind, and I, standing in the middle of it. Helplessly, looking out of that dynamic vortex, to hold onto the exact words and to hold onto the exact sentences, that I wanted to jot down.

I let this whirlwind tame the melancholies in my mind that I grew.

Then the warmth of stillness hushed my stormy heart and I found a calm within. The calm felt like I was floating in the same mysterious infinite. But it felt serene, like I found myself holding onto the words I was searching for. They would rise and fall on paper like tides on water. It felt like that prattle inside was finally resting.

I smiled at the elation that touched me in sweet silence.

Warily, finding my little joys with each paper I filled, every word, that I was able to hold onto. While my mind kept floating in that same infinite of mine. While I kept picking the words to form sentences I needed.

As I now knew, the clamour inside was my subdue.

The moment was seized by the little treats I gave myself of ending it all with a dot of content.

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