Lost Inkpot !!

.....The other day as i sat in the Data Communication class with my professor in front of me trying to explain the importance of an IP addresse , I felt this sudden urge to get my pen moving on the paper , to write down something , anything... I remembered how i wrote pages after pages , in the last pages of my notebook , my school rough diary , in my black big diary , word documents after documents , during those horrendous business maths classes , after the lunch break in school , during my commerce classes and after returning from my bengali tutions . I had pages after pages , notebooks and sheets and diaries all around me all the time , in my bag , on my bed , on the dining table , in the store room , under my pillow , everywhere filled with proof of my imagination running wild .

But its funny how it doesnt happen with me anymore... Every time i want to write something , i just done get the write track to follow , i miss the words , or i just dont get on with a good beginning or better still i dont even know what to write...I remember how Enasree and myself wrote pages after pages....she was miraculous at poetry , it flowed like a fountain out of her fingers and i dealt with stories , we just did it ...those lazy afternoons on the verandah behind our classes....writing out...venting out....and how my literature teachers loved them...

Sometimes i wonder ...whats wrong with me ?? Why cant i just write ? Have i lost it ?? The very imagination ? I literally stammer(not literally) to even write a freaking blog... I am clueless of how to start a story ...the beginnings look rough and edgy....My black diary looks blank and empty , the pages left alone with no scar of ink....I dont get the words , i cant describe the rains , the feelings, i just dont get it !!!