Writing out in depth articles, poems, reflective passages questioning one’s conscience were not much of my arena. Exhibiting and excelling in some other skills was difficult for me, dancing and singing being my distant relative. My vocal chords and dancing shoes offered no support. The only thing that seemed easy was to grab a pen and churn your mind instead. Writing somehow suited me. It convinced others that a sincere and studious girl like me would obviously pick some other boring traits from her field of interest. Ransacking my brain I realized that certificates in Creative writing, compliments from teachers, appreciation from the like minded filled up my bag. So, yes somewhere down the line I did click.
The first acquaintance of mine with the word writer itself has an interesting story to be shared. Going back to the time when I was a young radiant child the way to school was the time to foretell a story, start a discussion share some laughter. I walked under the strict supervision of my elder cousin who made it a point to impart her knowledge and experiences to me hoping I turned out to be wise.
One fine day, the discussion began on what one would become once they grew. Having heard enough inspirational stories, eyes filled up with big dreams I had an instant reply -the President of India or the Queen of some long lost empire. My cousin smiled while listening to my answer. She was in her teens and as described by Shakespeare –a stage where emotions are on the brink. Fantasy tales, revolutionary ideas and the unconventional filled up her mind. She had a ready made answer; she wanted to be a writer.
Now it was the honking of the horn or my unfamiliarity with the word what I assumed was she wanted to be a –‘Lighter’. I was amazed; I never knew one could become an object of interest. Lighter according to me was a great idea, click and lo! There was light. But I had even better plans. I would become a pretty Barbie doll adored and loved by all. The next few days of my childhood were spent in extreme restlessness searching for clues that would eventually turn me into a doll. Stories of fairies and genies now undoubtedly seemed true. I started wondering if the dolls lying in my cupboard were actually people who would one day return back to life. Finally, walking down the same enlightening path to school I shared my ideas with my cousin. She had a lovely grin on her face and with much patience she explained me what a writer was. Dreams for an innocent child like me shattered and the world looked small. But, the next moment I saw a lollipop in the shop at corner and the rest became a history.
With time our preferences changed and today my cousin is a successful advocate while I am an engineer. But the story of writer and lighter still brings a smile on my face and perhaps is my first inspiration to write and capture some exquisite moments of my life.