Want to Learn How to Write? First Learn How to be Bored.
The world would have you believe that more content is more inspiration; but in fact, the opposite is true
The thing that I remember the most starkly about my childhood, the thing that made me desperately wish that I could just grow up and be an adult already, the thing that was the absolute bane of my existence, was that I felt terribly and constantly bored.
I was bored from the moment I sat in the first period of school till the moment after dinner, when I would have a chock of time to fill up before going to bed. Every afternoon, after coming back from school, I would go down from our apartment and sit in the staircase and be bored some more, wondering what game my friends and I could play today. I would sit out in the park in the evenings, trying to imagine all the ways where I lived could be threatened and then how I would save it: an alien attack, a hurricane, terrorists taking over. I spent my childhood so extraordinarily bored that trying to find ways to not be bored was my defense mechanism, my mind working on overdrive to drum up all the things I could be doing instead of being bored right now.
There’s a legendary figure in Hindi slang, a man who constantly messes up, makes a fool of himself, but more importantly, bullshits like there’s no tomorrow. He comes up with ridiculous stories, is ever ready with an idea that won’t work, and is basically your classic Shakespearean jester, the fool: Sheikh Chilli. Don’t be a Sheikh Chilli, we say, on hearing someone spew ideas or claims that seem to have no grounds. Don’t be a Sheikh Chilli, we say, when someone comes up with a new dream or plan every day, without any concrete intent of acting on it. Don’t be a Sheikh Chilli, we say, when someone exaggerates their stories, or worse, makes them up completely.
Sheikh Chilli, coupled with the phrase making ‘khayali pulao’, building sandcastles in the air, are, for me, the two absolute prerequisites in our quest to be creative. It is wholly essential that we come up with scenarios that 99% will never take shape, to exaggerate our stories to a point that they beggar belief, to wild dreams and claims about ourselves that invite the ire and laughter of other people.
Our inherent drive to make anything up from scratch, whether it is stories or art or videos or even food, comes from wanting to create that which does not yet exist. It stems from a gap that we identify, a gap that we feel needs to be filled, but in our own particular, unique way. This gap, between what is and what should be, but more often, between what is and what could be, is the bedrock of all imagination, of all creation. If there is no difference between what exists and all that we imagine could exist, there would be no creative act.
Most people who want to write do it because they feel something deep inside of them and want to express this; but they also believe that this feeling has a unique, particular resonance only with them, and therefore must be shared with the world, or somehow written down. By attempting to express this want, whether by creating characters or making art or baking a cake, we are manifesting the force that makes us want. Wanting is dreaming and creating and being a Sheikh Chilli and making khayali pulao; but when are we supposed to do all of that if we don’t have time to be bored?
I know I am not alone in feeling overwhelmed, in feeling that there’s always something left to do, that the hours in my days are not enough to complete all the tasks I am supposed to be completing, whether personal or professional. And in the hours we do take off, we still prevent our mind from the very necessary act of being bored. There are innumerable podcasts, television series, videos, and all kinds of social media that populate our time. And while some of my greatest inspiration comes from the many amazing stories that are available to consume out there in the world, in the form of films and books and television, the action and execution of that inspiration comes from thinking about these ideas in the times we are bored. As a child, I spent half an hour everyday watching a TV show about a kid who has a magic pencil, where anything he draws comes to life. But for every half hour I watched it, I spent 5x the time thinking about would I do if I had the magic pencil.
There’s a magical place that lies between boredom and enchantment, a place where you fill up your time by making a bridge between what is out there and what is in your mind, a place where you almost yearn for what is in your mind to exist: that is where the action lies. That is where creativity lies. That is where you write.
It was only once I finished writing my novel Lallan Sweets, once it was out there in the world, that I realised that the book was a form of manifesting all the fantasies of my childhood, while at the same time, a reenactment of it. I had unconsciously written in the thirst of for adventure that had plagued my boredom filled days into my book about, a quest for a secret ingredient used in the sweets at a small town mithai shop.
So take off those doughnut headphones that block out the boring hum in the metro. Put down the phone that promises a barrage of entertaining reels. Sacrifice everything else, and stay in bed an hour late, simply imagining and dreaming- what was a recent conversation you had that made you think. What was a recent show or movie that touched you stronger than you even probably realise? Ask yourself, why? Embrace the nothingness, and embrace the boredom. Trust me, it will be rewarding.