JOURNEY

“You will become a clerk in some government office”- my teacher always used to tell me. Reason, I liked to write.

I remember, when we were in school, we had to keep our class work books at school itself. We were allowed to take them home a couple of weeks before the exams and had to return each book the same day of the examination depending on the subject. Intelligent (read ‘stupid’) as I was at the age, I thought – “Why unnecessarily carry the book tomorrow, when I can return it today itself?” So, I returned the science note book a day before the science exams! Result? No book to study from for the next day’s exams! My tuition teacher made me write the whole book, which I was only happy too.

Later, when in college I used to help my brother by writing his engineering notes for him and a couple of his friends. Ofcouse, I charged money for every page I wrote and for every picture I drew.

I used to go to British Library, look up reference books and make note. My friends happily xeroxed them….making a fine use of my efforts. I studied English Literature in college, but it wasn’t a conscious decision then, the foundation needed to hone my writing skills.

As far as I can remember, books have always been a part of my daily life. My earliest memory is when I was 3-4 years old; mom used to take me and my brother to the library every other day, I firmly perched on her waist and my brother, holding her hand. To get to the library we had to cross over a small over bridge and a railway track….it was adventurous even then to my young mind and that’s why I remember it so well. Thus started my long standing love affair with books.

Mom was an avid reader…maybe found an escape, took flight in her imaginary world of words, a world of fantasy. Books seduced her as they have been seducing me.

I got married, had kids…life went on and all the while I was feeling a strange unrest in my heart. A dissatisfaction which grew by the day……slowly turning into frustration. My heart was weighing a ton all the while. I knew, I wanted to do something, but wasn’t sure or wasn’t able to pinpoint as to what that ‘something’ was. I knew I wanted to write….what? How? Eluded me. Frankly, I was a chicken, didn’t have the courage to get started. I was filled with self doubt – Will I be good enough? Will I be able to reach out to the likeminded audience? But, more than for others I had to write for myself.

First, I had to find my voice, then fine tune it, add my own notes, and then modulate it to suit different emotions and feelings.

I owe a lot to my friend Mamatha for getting me started…..and few others for encouraging me unconditionally. Day by day I started gaining confidence. And here I am blogging since 5 months, getting good response. Slowly, the blanket of heaviness is being lifted off my chest. My mind is no longer idle; it is working overtime searching for words, words with meaning. It is not the same every day. Someday I am at total loss of words; turning my head upside down to find some and then, there are days when ideas flood my mind….finding peace only when I have penned them down.

At last, the journey has begun; I have taken the flight of fancy and baby, I want to go places!!!