When I started writing if I could remember correctly on 2000, I was cornered by my friends and my near ones for the sake of grammatical errors, sentence formations, idioms and phrases, basically lacking proficiency in the language in which I am writing “English” Did I mention I was in my 10th standard when I started writing, like that is 16 years ago and today I’m 30 years old, so you could do a simple math there to identify when my zeal for writing started.
However, my inefficiency in proving my vocabulary skills made me a James Bond, meaning I started writing secretly, under the cover with a torch light, under the sky in my terrace, with just the sparkling stars above me and the light I get from the street lamp not that I did not have electricity at my home, its just that I wouldn’t want to be judged by anyone on my writing abilities neither I wanted anyone to know I was writing and yes, getting back home quietly and keeping it in my safe house where none could reach it was a serious job. I still remember the diaries which my mom would give me every year thinking I would do something better with it, and here I was falling in love with my diaries and my love grew stronger with every passing year.
I loved to write on them, poems, stories, my day to day activities, the cutest guy I met on the street or on a bus, my sister fighting with me, my teachers scolding me, my best friend talking about everything under the sky, our girls gang pranks, we going to beach or a fight with my mom sobbing and wetting the pages, my dreams or just letting out my emotions, I was better off writing than talking about it,and my diary listened to me without judging me, and after few months when I get back to those same pages they made me laugh and that was the happiest feeling I ever had. Seeing me grow up in front of my own eyes!
But as I grew up, diaries stopped, child like writing changed and those meaning less funny 4 liners or so I thought as poems started transforming to something beautiful. Something worth sharing, something worth savoring, something worth saving. Falling in love helped me to write better. As I entered home, I saw my notebook on my mom’s hand neither she spoke nor I asked her anything. Then one fine day on our dinner table she told me – you write so well, you have got your fathers DNA on that, don’t stop what you doing, you should write something big – May be a novel or a small time bed stories, write something, write anything, but write!
I was happy, here I was being appreciated for my world of words, I felt empowered. I don’t quite remember well, how blogging happened to me, but it was one of the most precious thing that I could imagine happening to me. I write in my space what I felt, and I didn’t know readers existed then, I started getting comments, I have a few followers – thanks to those who have read my blogs and thanks to you for reading, or so I believe enjoying my writing now, its you who makes me write more, I know now the world out there is reading my voice – A sound identity to my thoughts. I started off writing my dream novel here too, completed a few chapters but work takes you a long way from your world of fantasies thank to Suman my friend for bringing me back here through Nablopomo – 30 post – 30 days!
I for a thing wouldn’t know how am I gonna complete my 30 days – 30 posts and what the topics are going to be but I know for sure I have set myself up for an adventure and perhaps my love for writing will drag me to this space – which belongs to just you and me!