The Great Indian Depression
It's been a while, I sit writing one story then the next few lines, I am stuck with another one. I just can't move forward as if there is a traffic block of letters in front of me. Usually the so-called 'Block' will happen if you run out of words or you are sinking in a pile of ideas where you are lost, thinking of which one to write. I feel I fall into the latter for a change wherein often I had encountered the first scenario. I have a ton of things to write about. I consider current affairs but then I don't want to be stamped as an anti-national and proceed to dungeons. I could write about my own life which is again equal to a suicidal attempt. No no no! Next comes books, plants, children, Covid, love, kings and queens, feathered friends, finger licking food... the list goes on and on. Then I end up writing none. What a dilemma! This is how we humans are right? We have millions of thoughts running parallely through our mind and head while we are stuck at no where