The Big Foot Blank Page

All my life, I had believed, staunchly, that solitude is the Holy Mecca for a writer. That solitude is the Messiah of all writing prompts. That solitude is the Holy Grail for that much elusive muse. But the only thing I felt, upon placing my big feet on Coorg lands, was "blank".

I had pondered over several homestays for weeks, and had finally zeroed in on “Coorg Farm” in some area of Madikeri, called Chembebeloor. The host, himself, had offered to drive me all the way from the Mercara KSRTC Bus Station to his homestay, and I had, more than gladly, obliged. 

It was only as I slided onto his car seat, that I realised not only was I alone in an unfamiliar place, but also alone with a stranger. Oddly, I wasn’t nervous at all. I still felt only one thing: blank. And to be fair, Deepak seemed like a happy-go-lucky fellow and could have easily put any lone lady at ease with him.

As we drove past the lush fields, dense coffee plantations, and ever-winding roads, all I felt was still just that: blank. He made some friendly banter; I replied, I joked, I smiled. But within me, I was just blank. Some tiny part of my brain registered that something had changed about me in the last one week.

A silent and introvert Cancerian seemed to have put her head outside her shell suddenly, and had decided to sniff about. She sniffed about, but couldn’t quite comprehend the unfamiliarity. At least, not yet. For now, she felt blank. 

She had no urge to retreat into her shell though. Her Cancerian senses were tingling. Not from some kind of sixth sense, but from the depths of her tummy, rumbling with hunger. She wondered if the blankness was actually the emptiness of her stomach.

Upon reaching the homestay, however, the blankness took on a whole new meaning. It seemed as if Mother Nature had simply emptied my mind (and stomach) just so I could take in her splendour… Well, she certainly did make an empty page out of this writer. And so, I’m now an empty page, awaiting beautiful lines to adorn me...