In India, the general public relate to, say-the latest political saga, the fresh Bollywood buzz, the stock market (try travelling on a train anywhere within Gujarat and give me a ring if you don’t hear the constant stock buzz!), or the everlasting topic of cricket. Walk into any conversation-at home, the station, the bus, the school class room; even in a tennis stadium- be it IPL and Gayle’s one man army or one days and night matches. You got to be deaf to not hear the drone. Period! My point being this: Now, and as far as back then, I’ve been out of this loop.

To me it’s always been another world altogether-my world of words. I don’t know when I first picked up my first story book, in fact I’m pretty sure I wasn’t born with a silver spoon, I’m willing to bet it was a book! In books I can find solace. In them I find a constant yet ever quirky and insightful a  friend, a companion twenty-four seven. That has to be the reason nobody can ever catch me without a novel, much to my mother’s exasperation. I guess it’s only natural then, that I started scribbling. ‘Writ’, I’ve heard is German for ‘to scratch’. Therefore, on began my journey of scribbles and ramblings, albeit it was just my journal. Angry but shy a kid, I had found my perfect outlet. When there’s love abound for words and stories around: I knew this flame wasn’t going to die.

So through the years write I did, crude and simple, falling harder with every new word, a penny for every line.  I guess it’s how you can mould a piece of writing or conversely, how it moulds you. The words are there, ever present, at your beck and call- a song, a hop or a hard felt opinion? The actual writing though, began when I felt the magical bond straining, my need for a back into the world of fables and fantasies- when engineering seemed like engineering. I felt like an alien in a land with no familiarity. That’s when the blog came around- a profound sense of belonging.

Words form me; complete me. Without words, I’m nobody. They get me ecstatic and dizzy, they challenge me, and they will from me my best expressions and my undivided attention, something nothing else in my life gets!

To write is to love. To write is to open my heart and let the love brimmed up to the top, overflow. To write is to express. Every piece of writing is love. Every line becomes a love letter. When I write I don’t see the issues, the problems. When I write it’s just me and my words and everything seems possible. Every thought, every happy feeling gets magnified, ready to burst. My heart feels just right, content and happy. I can see the world as I want to-the green pastures of the bygone days, the wind on my face,: ever free of slangs and slurs, the people with time to look at passer-bys and bow a greeting, the world in a medium paced path, all things gay and right. To write is to identify, to write is to capture the beauty I see around me. To write is to start at the onset of a raging temper and quieten it down, with letters and words, to conquer back the muddled senses. To write is to open up and let people in. To write is to spread goodwill, to write is to help. To write is to be myself. To write is fun, to write is to go crazy and play around with words- the satisfaction of a great piece being the chocolate for a task well done. I think I’ll conclude with these last few lines:

Through the turmoil built inside me,

A child was I,

Mature none what so ever.

Yet, through the eyes of many,

Maturity personified was I.

How wrong they were,

For it was all an act!

So I wrote, for here was a listening ear!

Here was a patient listener,

Here it was safe to rest.

So I picked up a pen,

Grabbed a piece of ruled paper,

And , scribbled.

A scratch before chemistry,

Scribbles all through math!

For every little thought,

And every fragment of a dream,

For all the emotions coursing through,

For every passing event.

Yet, little did I learn,

For here I am an engineering student,

Where a dime worth’s engineering

Hasn’t ever compelled me

As much as Russell or a Georgette.

And here I am, scribbling away

When the math assignment is due tomorrow!

My one true love,

Write I shall,

Today and tomorrow and

as long as I can type in a word,

Pen down the ramblings,

For it is my one true

And evergreen love!




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