28-06-2016; 1:01 PM

The office rushes see no relief even in these Ramadan hours. For obvious reasons, my head finds no space to pen down a journal. It’s been pretty long since I opened a page to let my thoughts flow and somewhere I know it’s no surprise. Since the day I joined here, reading and writing at work is quite a dream. It’s funny you know, like for the last two years, work place has been my venue of solace to write. And finally when I got into a job which I had waited like for ages, work is all that I have here. It’s rare when I take a few minutes of peace. Sometimes, days go by like a bullet train and I never know. May be this is good, maybe not. For now I’m not going to dwell in to its mess of Pros and cons.

My personal cabin is upstairs. Sitting here, I’ve often felt isolated from the rest of the staff. Well, HR has its own private affairs, they’d have thought. I know how much I’ve wanted to be among them, down there. But this is what they have for me. Do I have a choice?

It surprises me that I’m writing after so long. I haven’t been thinking of anything worth scribbling down lately. Perhaps I’d lose this momentum the moment I turn sideways. Documents to be dealt with lay on my table awaiting their turns. One look at them and their cries would drag me off this screen, or a call on my extension from my Sir Manager. Anything would do. There are threats all along. Amidst all these chores if words flow this way, I’m super excited. For, I know I’m not dead yet. I’m still able to live on these white sheets, with the air of words of such passion. In fact, I don’t remember the last time I did a journal. However, I’ve caught a glimpse of liberation today, in this hour, with these passing minutes. As Pamuk rightly exclaimed,

Nothing is as astounding as life
Except for writing
Yes, except for writing
Yes, of course
except for writing,
the sole consolation.

I’ve found my heart echo the same a million times in the past. Reading these lines, my mind connect with them instantly. The Turk has his own charm and my thoughts find tranquility in his words. Nothing matches reading the masters of words. Nothing at all. Oh Yes, of course, nothing except for writing – the sole consolation.