This moment itself!
 If
you remember 'Sylvan symphony' the week before last, you will assume I'm
being repetitive. Your assumption is to the contrary, because I'm not.
For me it's like a second episode.
This friend of mine is very much closely related to me, though he is
my 10 years senior. The thing is I know him ever since I was born. He
means much inspiration too. So when I wrote 'Sylvan symphony' he was
hanging around somewhere in a corner of my mind.
He used to broadcast because he had a good voice. He performed on
stage because he studied it sometime back. He used to write poetry, and
was praised by the veterans. And now he is about to release a
short-story collection. If only he didn't take up a different stream, in
a different land!
Although he is not much into books, he has this awesome habit of
bringing so many books whenever he touches down here once in every few
months. But this time, he brought only two books. And those two too were
not to my liking.
 "I
didn't buy a single book for the last three months. I was reading the
books you gave me last time."
"You spent all these months reading only those three books?" I was
quite startled. "I have read only two so far, and I am still rereading
them. So I had no need for another book. I bought those two books,
because you expect me to do so."
"I don't expect you to bring books every time you come here."
My friend smiled - it kind of embarrassed me, I must say.
"I remember you blaming so and so for not having brought a single
book the last time he visited."
He was referring to another close relative of mine, who brings books
too whenever he comes to Sri Lanka. "I didn't mean it for you..." "Come
on, you meant it for me too - indirectly though. Okay you mustn't have
thought about it. Anyway sorry, I couldn't make a good choice this time.
You know I'm a picky reader."
Dear reader, did I mention I was a picky reader too, sometime back in
these columns? I guess yes.
"I know you are one too." He said cutting off my thoughts.
"But..." I needed to know his reasons, "don't you think reading
anyhow sharpens power of expression?"
He smiled - once again that embarrassing expression.
"You don't have to read for that my dear. You know how I start my
day?"
"Once you told me morning is very precious to you. I was wondering
about that since you are so busy."
"I'm too busy to read. In the UK I wake up early to see the sunrise.
I water my little garden, feed my two dogs. There is a little forest
close to our place. I take a walk there with my dogs. I enjoy that a
lot. In Sri Lanka I wake up early to see the sunrise. There is sea at
the back of my home. I see waves hitting each other and they glisten to
the sunrise. Sometimes I wait for the next high tide. I find every
single bit afresh everyday. I observe it. This kind of morning is too
precious to waste on reading, or perhaps writing."
I listen without interrupting.
"It's like reading a book; watching a movie; looking at a painting.
You will feel how dead those words in a book are. How lifeless those
characters in a movie are. You don't have to read books to find a way of
expression. The sunrise is enough to kindle and rekindle your spirits."
And with that inspiration you start writing... I thought, but I was
wrong.
"And besides I don't feel the urge to write every moment. Mostly I
write poetry. Sometimes I write in length. Sometimes I don't. And I
don't like to call myself a creative writer, because creativity doesn't
come to me that often. Why should you write all the time?"
"Don't you see the same beauty in the world at large? I mean humans
and buzzing cities?"
He patted my shoulder.
"You are still talking about creativity my dear. This life is
stranger and more beautiful than the creativity you talk of. Yes when
you are a creative writer, this whole world should inspire you. But it
doesn't, to me. I'm not a creative writer, though I do writing and
reading now and then. Honestly, those buzzing cities and all that don't
give me the happiness I get in my little nature abode."
I try to read his expression.
"There are times I just watch things happen in nature. But I never
take down notes. I don't use a notebook either. I just feel my own
expressions surging in from within. That's an idiom you can neither
express nor read."
"But isn't it a waste?"
He smiled - once again. He keeps on doing that giving me a feel of a
fool.
"It's waste, yes. So? I don't care. I live in that moment itself. And
that's it."
Some are born-talented. Some cultivate that talent by excessive
reading. My friend belongs to the first category, which is rare. So you
have no reason to get me wrong here.
I don't ask you to give up or cut back reading or writing.
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