Inspiration cannot be forced onto someone, much as one would want it to. Deviant attempts at forcing imitation and denying outright plagiarism is tantamount to crush creativity and imagination. It is said therefore, that to write one’s story, one needs to be alienated from the stories of others. Stories, as Rushdie would say, have a way of creeping into each other and much as you would want it to stay singular, the tentacles of the strands of kahaani spreads itself out in a wayward fashion. That is not so bad always though. If mutation happens to involve two truly original strands, the result is a beautiful composition and a perfectly potent reproductive organ. Thing is, one needs inspiration in life, howsoever it may come to him. Thing also is, inspiration does not ring the doorbell when it intends to grace you with its presence. It comes as a gust of wind and sweeps you off your feet before you know it. Also, again, before you know it, you might also forget it all.   How then to be ‘inspired’ every waking (and dreaming) moment of one’s life? Why, what comes from within first sets the ball rolling. It is he who peeks into the seams of the dark caves who unlocks the path to creative abundance and to sustainable constructive energy.



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