Stories have been brewing all around, but with coffee, it becomes better. Since the beginning of time, we have been writing stories with each of us breathing, smiling, laughing, weeping, loving. All we have done is written stories. With us great aesthetics today, I bring you the story of Sonam Desai, a writer who was blocked out by the one thing she loved the most, the chaos.
The pre-covid era was beautiful for many reasons. Some might say it was better because of how we didn’t have masks to bore, or for some, the crowd did it, of how to the eye’s extent, all we could see were people. Everywhere stories were brewing, our writer friends had ample amounts of inspiration walking around to make them their muses and write painfully poetic stories. But after the covid hit, all she could find were dead-ass stories and close-ended conversations. What would happen to you if someone snatched away your reason to live from you?
Sonam Desai – her journey
Today we are talking about Sonam Desai, and we have divided her story into two eras, namely the pre-covid and post-covid eras. How her journey has been through the phases before covid and how the post-covid era is no more a phase but more of life itself and how she found her muses in the dead of places after death became the NEW NORMAL.
Our writer friend here was a people’s person. She loved her friends and her social life so much, so she ran off from the space that felt not home-like to spaces that were her home. She found friends in front of whom she could be herself unapologetically. Her dating life was reasonably busy (she loved that). Hence, she found stories every day, but as the covid block hit, not only did an extrovert lose her most vigorous pursuit, but a writer lost her muses altogether.
Finding inspiration from a broken mirror might have been easier, but getting it out of memories is a more challenging task that our protagonist never got over. The walls were staring back at her. It was asking her all about her muses that she lost in the past year. She lost the power of inspiration in making a world of her own out of the four walls that she now was surrounded by.
Didn’t that happen with every one of us? Walking freely towards your favorite café, with your friends at the table, surrounded by a crowd, was normal. Talking on a volume higher than the usual because you and your friend met after a day’s break was more than usual. Just like that, everything changed. In a day, our world was not ours anymore. It was taken over by a deadly virus that was out to get everyone and anyone in its way.
Suddenly it wasn’t just the world, but our home that took away, the homes that we made in our friends, the home that we made in places that were just placed but at the same time were more because of our memories, all of it taken away in a minute, how do you deal with that?
Well, the answer lies in what we have spent weeping about these months. We do not do anything. Take this time out, take a rest. Not only did our human race needed it, but the world needed it too. We have been so inclined towards working for our world to be ours that we didn’t realize the most significant home we were gifted with was drifting apart. But it is not easy.
Watching the world go up in flames, while all you could do was stay inside and watch it burn. To see the world in a light that doesn’t shine, all we have to do is survive and breathe instead of falling prey to the predator. And maybe not today, not tomorrow, but one day we will feel better, and that is what we are here for, pre-covid or post-covid, we are here to breathe in and breathe out, we are here to create stories, to create our verticals that are built on the cemented base of one thing and that is our will to survive.
So here, Sonam Desai, a writer, a dreamer, and a post-covid survivor, is breathing, just like us, she fought through what she has been through, and she is willing to fight more because as much as it looks like, this is not our last war. Still, it isn’t our first. We are more robust, we are fighters, and all that we need in this is ourselves, and oh yes, one little thing, STORIES, because we don’t only tell stories, but we live them.
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