Et tu brute

William Shakespeare,

He was pure genius.

I had a hate-love relationship with him in school. I loved Julius Caesar,  hated Macbeth and loved Merchant of Venice. Romeo and Juliet was beautiful, The tempest was like a conjurer's dream and Hamlet was pure boring. But when I say hate-love, whatever I felt the stories always demanded a strong reaction. They couldn't be ignored. It demanded of you to form an opinion with real raw emotions. Today we read books -  good and bad. There are books that make you go crazy. The alchemist did that for me. But there are so many that just pass by and you never look back. He could never make that happen. 

That was his magic. 

I had a phase when I tried talking like his characters.The dramatization, poetic emotions, passionate characters, murder and insecurities, love and lust. It enthralled me. (I also sounded really stupid) 

His works were life-like. His characters imperfect. They were like you and I. They were just more honest about their emotions.

Of course, now there is this new theory saying he was they and Shakespeare was a pseudonym.

His language was arcane but somehow his words touched you. They had a certain depth in them. He created an atmosphere that set perfect pictures in front of your eyes. All books do, but these were vivid colored pictures. I haven't read any of his works since school but the stories and phrases were the kinds that remain etched in your memory. I still fear the Ides of March (Something Bad always happens) , I wish life had time pauses where I could come out and recite a Soliloquy. In fact there are times when my mother catches me talking to myself (Read: I am not mad) , and I put the blame on Shakespeare. I do a little literary genius strut and tell her its my version of a Soliloquy. My inner goddess does a cat stretch with her chin up. 

The point being,  we owe him so much today.

We don't realize but there is so much we say, so much we do, the thoughts we feel, the wit that we think is ours -  that we owe to him .

Knock- knock !Who's there? - Yes, we joke because of him.  

Do you smell "Foul Play" ? Even if you do, stand by your opinions, "Come what May." 

Lovers that we are we say , "Love is blind!" 

 To pamper our ego we quote, "The world is my oyster" and the incessant ego boost is what we owe to him. 

 "Wear your hearts on your sleeves" when you communicate and when you joke, "Brevity is the soul of wit."
A homeless man is a "Sorry sight" and a stupid man is a "Laughing Stock."

 When we are nervous we waited with "Baited breath"  and it "makes your hair stand on ends" and once the results are out it doesn't matter because "What's done is done." 

When someone dies, "He breathed his last" and when someone disappears without notice,"He vanished into thin air" Then follows the philosophy of life and death and how nothing is permanent , because  'All the world's a stage."

That was "Good Riddance" of the "Green Eyed Monster"  and its great that you finally "Sent him packing." 

"For Goodness' sake" let me sleep "I haven't slept a wink". 

The "Naked Truth" is that we "break the ice" and make new friends, but keep your old ones close because, "When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions." 

We say good people have "A heart of gold" and bad people are "Devil's incarnates" 

We have "Seen better days" but don't be fooled because, "Too much of a good thing" is bad.  

We shouldn't be "Faint hearted" and we should "Fight fire with Fire"  because life is short and once the "Game is up"we will all be "as dead as doornails."

 Life is a "Full Circle" and we should "Play fair" to make it a "brave New World" before  the "Game if up" 

Oh, Shakespeare, you were a "A piece of Work" 

ps. There are SO many more. Read them on http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/phrases-sayings-shakespeare.html.

Ink-blue finger tips

I wanted to write something.
You know those nights when you're just itching to write? 
I'm not sure if you know...
You crave to hear the intensely fast clatter of the keypad as you move your fingers at lightening fast speed or the squeaky high frequency scribble on a sparkling white piece of ruled paper.

Writing brings immeasurable happiness to me,

So I thought I'll start writing and see where it takes me,
Because words, they take you traveling. You start at one pole and end at another, and the story in the middle is what manifests on its own.You think you're doing it, but you're really not. One word leads to another and it forms a sentence. You don't even realize it but it turns into something magical.That's the thing about wordplay, it's insanely mysterious and double-insanely powerful. I don't usually know where I'm going to end up until I get to the end. Sometimes its unstructured (like I usually rattle away), and sometimes it has a definite structure. 

Today I use the keyboard to type words, 

but writing with a blue fountain pen with ink dripping all over my fingers was close to heaven.

The smell of ink is divine. 

" If dawn and dusk had a scent then the smell of ink is the smell of dawn and dusk with a white lily dipped in it."

The shabby ink blue finger tips that lasts for days is a happy memory of a peaceful hour gone dreaming, rummaging and scribbling. 

Writing is a life within a life. Blue words on white crisp paper take you into a new world where you need nothing but your words. They become people, emotions and sometimes entire lives. These words have the capability to make us feel things deeper than they are, more vivid than they seem and more beautiful than it is. Two words can make you want to rip somebody's heart apart and one word can make a life-long friend. Sometimes half a word is enough to fall in love. Some power isn't it?

And words, they make you feel so vulnerable and vulnerable is so incredibly scary but so beautiful! Where you let it all out and place it messily on a piece of paper:
This is me, all of me, nothing more, nothing less. Nobody else could bring out that kind of unconditional vulnerability.

But these words, little buggers made of alphabets, they've got double standards too,
They make you feel vulnerable yet extremely powerful. They help you communicate and sometimes they help you stay away from communication. They help you love and hate, they help you imagine and ideate. 
Little love letters, novels, a thesis on archeology. 
Emotions, history and philosophy. 
They're all but words. 
Nothing more nothing less.

After all,
It all starts with ink blue fingertips and a whole lot of happiness.