Harsh Snehanshu

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Harsh Snehanshu (हर्ष स्नेहांशु)

I write poems & build products. I will suggest grammatical edits quite matter-of-factly. Please don't mind. Edit your quote and delete my comment. This is just to uplift the quality of content. Feel free to point out edits in mine too.

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I'm learning to play the piano nowadays & I can't help but compare it with swimming, a skill I only learnt the last year. 

The first month is the most tedious as you try to bring two body parts that have always been out of sync in sync. Consider swimming. First month, when I tried moving my hands, my legs would freeze. When I paddled, my hands would languish like a zombie's. It took me a month of drowning practice before my bloated body could actually cut through water and clock laps. The trick was to not try too hard, to surrender to water.

My left and right hands have been out of sync. I could only concentrate on one while practising my piano lessons. Today, for the the first time I could play the octaves with both hands simultaneously without encountering a break. I was surprised with myself and started noticing how it occurred. I just couldn't replay it. The more conscious I became of my playing, the more error prone my execution went. I remembered my swimming days. The trick to clock laps: surrender. When I did surrender, my mind was neither watching the left hand nor the right but was instead listening to the tune as it moved like my floating body in water. I moved too.

On learning to swim & learning to play the piano. Began learning after watching La La Land in Dec.

YESTERDAY AT 2:02

Dear Ramya,

This is my 392nd post on YourQuote. Out of them all, I cherish less than 15 because those are the ones where you replied with a thumbs up and in very rare case, with a tacky throbbing red heart that resembles your butt. For the rest, the messages would read “seen” & I would crumble within. Damn, once again I didn’t make the cut! If I accused you of not reverting to them, your reply would be direct: Ass, you bored me in the very first line. Sprinkle, this word made me puke. Else, just a simple: eww.  

(Continued in the caption)

Dear Ramya, This is my 392nd post on YourQuote. Out of them all, I cherish less than 15 because those are the ones where you replied with a thumbs up and in very rare cases, with a tacky throbbing red heart that resembles your butt. For the rest, the messages would read “seen” & I would crumble within. Damn, once again I didn’t make the cut! If I accused you of not reverting to them, your reply would be direct: Ass, you bored me in the very first line. Sprinkle, this word made me puke. Else, just a simple: eww. At the YIF dinner last year, the dean had asked me: which teacher at YIF impacted my life the most? My list comprised of none of those stalwarts from across the world that fellows croon over every year. My entire fellowship was hazed with impressions of your sharp face & your sharper red strikethroughs on my drafts. Plots broken down to their rudiments, complete redrafts of whatever I wrote with language hogging the spotlight than the plot, clichés extracted like a decayed tooth and hurled out of the balcony, sentences scissored with the severity of a surgeon. My one-year at the YIF was not spent training in the liberal arts but in honing my skills as a writer under your ruthless supervision. More than being my best friend, my confidante, my annoying little editor, my love, my soul-sister, I will always remember you as my teacher who taught me how it's not the pen that I have been holding but a magic wand. Someday, you will see me make magic with it. Until then, I just pray this letter doesn’t make you eww. Yours. (Part of #JanuaryLetters where I am writing letters to those I love!)

16 JAN AT 22:45