Mon, 22 Jul, 2019

Why I Write

By Prakriti Shree Tuladhar

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During one of those times when I am solely to listen to a person speaking to me, like always, my mind rescued me from the boredom of it and led me to think about a question I can’t remember thinking about before. But then, my thoughts are so much more volatile than the most volatile element (whose name I keep on forgetting, though I had memorized it that time for an exam which meant something to me then) kept in contact with the atmosphere. Hence, before I forget about this again or maybe for the first time ever, I am typing it out. Why? Just because…

So then, the previously mentioned speaker was speaking. But speakers do speak. All human speakers do. The object called speakers however have been said to have spoken to people but I’m sure it was a vain attempt of a few to appear literally talented. Not that I don’t like such people. Not that I like such people either. So from here on now, the speaker will be called a person.

Well then, so this person was speaking something. But I wasn’t listening. I wasn’t even trying to be listening.

 I was thinking about stuff and then about more stuff. Just “stuff”.  Till I started thinking about what I should write about next.

The train (of thought that is) didn’t halt there and I started thinking about why I was thinking about what I should write about next. From there on, I thought about why writing an article mattered to me. Then finally, the train stopped at why I write at all.

I know I do not write for my readers.  :D 

(With paying due respect and meaning no disrespect)

I do not write for the people in my life who want me to write, not for them, but for myself.

I do not write for anyone I know and I do not write to be known by anyone.

I do not write in hopes of becoming a writer.

I do not write to share my happiness and my “not-happiness”.


I write because I like the way my fingers move around on the keyboard. I like them dancing around to print our letters which form the words which form the sentences on the white background of a Microsoft Word page. It’s as simple as that.

But then again, maybe I’m lying.

Maybe I’m lying to you.

Maybe I’m lying to myself.

Maybe I’m not lying.

Maybe I am writing this to fill up a page because I have got an article due.

(And a lot of maybe-s certainly make my job easier.)

Maybe I am writing this to make my article…hmm…nicer.

Maybe I am writing because I want to appear busy to the other people I am in a room with will leave me alone.

Maybe I am writing because I want to be busy so that I do not have to dwell on the fact that I am alone.

There are infinite maybe-s possible and it’s beee---yoooo---teee—ful !!!


So I don’t know why I write but I do know that for the moment, I don’t want to stop. And no, by that I don’t mean that I want to write continuously without doing anything else. So before this gets out of hand, as my articles always tend to, I will stop now. Though it has occurred to me that what I write aren’t creative articles. They are more of a blog posts. But then I don’t blog so I don’t know for sure.

So then, the end..