Archana’s session on Romantic Love and Loss, encouraged trips into our own pasts that a lot of us would otherwise prefer not to take. I remember sitting in my spot under the tree, crying at least thrice just writing my piece. Well, Archana encouraged us to look at our own pain, to let go in a very cathartic way, and the prompts were equally painful, so she kinda asked for it.
Chethana came up with a powerful, cynical piece about a dying woman, surrounded by a host of interesting characters, the “ungrateful” son, the wife that “has threatened to divorce me (the son) if I do not send you away…and you know how difficult it was for you (the mother) to find a bride for me in the first place”, the precious foreign-returnee “daughter”. Read her piece So close and yet, so far.
Santhosh’s piece surprised me (moving away from his own brand of weird fiction), he created quite a tear jerker, around the theme of lost chances, and a billionaires search for a love that even money couldn’t eventually buy. Obviously, he’s not going to bother sharing it.
Anjali wrote a breathtaking piece, that captured the angst of a poet, from the point of view of his lover….“He would look up at me after each word. Perhaps a little longer whenever he thought he had made use of a brilliant word or captured a genuine emotion. He tried with every glance to read my face, get a reaction out of me, or a glimpse of some change in body language”. Read the Eulogy on the death of his heart.
Oh, and I wrote a piece that Anjali kindly described as a ‘very 21st century breakup’. Please read it here. I hate love stories.
Yedu sent in a different piece from the one he read at the session, but still one he wrote at a different session. So I guess it counts. It features a heated, yet hilarious argument between two lovers on whether Hemingway was a coward for shooting himself instead of “watching porn and jerking off to a healthy little coronary”. I enjoyed that piece. Read Dissonance.
If you thought Karthik Patiar was all comedy, here he will prove you wrong. Love from college days till the end of days. A Hot Cup of Cappuccino
I liked a few newcomer pieces. The guy with the giant happy smile (Nitesh) wrote a line that stuck with all of us: “I think the real reason I wanted to be a writer was all that nice fancy stationary.” I remember a beautiful poem. Then there was the girl in a yellow dress, whose autobiographic piece was of a happy couple, madly and almost blinded in love and the joy of it all, until a misunderstanding breaks it all away, and it was all like it never even happened.
It sparked a discussion on the nature of love. Some of us wanted to know why they broke up. Others, why she was so self-sacrificial, shouldn’t she fight for her love? Bala chimed in with his own wisdom. The truthful and poignant nature of the session made Aditya comment later at coffee, that love is perhaps so multi-dimensional that nobody really understands it, and hence the deluge of the ‘love’ genre. And Aditya is like…in school. Ok fine, he’s younger than Shikar and Anjali, and I didn’t know there was a legal age below that. My point being, age notwithstanding, experience and interpretation is always interesting at write club.
Find the Material here: Tales of Love and Loss