My first hands on writing

In retrospect, I can’t come up with a particular incident when I first realised my passion for writing. I guess it had been always developing inside of me – unnoticed just like a slowly growing seedling .

 

I must be 9 years of age when on a cozy winter afternoon, I was studying under the bathing heat of sun. Dad bought oranges from the street vendor and came upstairs. As he offered me to eat, I picked up one orange out of the polythene, peeled it off and put one piece into my mouth.

Cceeezzzz…it was very sour. But when dad asked me how it was, I smiled and said it’s good because I wondered how caring it was of him to bring the oranges upstairs and offer me first before eating himself.

That’s the first incident which exactly took me to write my first diary entry so as to wriggle out the guilt of the small sweet lie. It must have been naive writing containing many grammatical errors. Nevertheless, it gave me a unique sense of pleasure to be able to describe the small event that happened during the day.

As it always is, intruding into each other’s secrets is the best hobby of siblings. My brother was no different. He somehow sneaked a glance at the paper and took it to daddy defeating all my efforts to stop him.

There I was, standing beside daddy as he was reading it. It was very embarrassing for me but the funny part was when my dad looked up after finishing it off and said, “Were those oranges sour”?

We all burst into laughter. But deep inside my heart, I felt the importance of words when my unsaid thoughts and care for him got expressed by itself.

After this incident, the childhood years passed by with no special attention to writing. But in high school, I wrote my first poem on my dream to become an astronaut. Somewhere since that time, I started writing my diary almost regularly.

The writing streak grew more when two years ago, I shared my diary with a friend  who implored me to start blogging.

So I started to write a blog which includes articles, poems of all different themes, quotes and sometimes few pages of my diary.

I feel as if I am exploring myself when I write which brings unexpected things out of uncharted dimensions of my mind.

I have always felt that words are essence of one’s emotions. If expressed properly, they can become a strong connecting channel between you and the people. In written form, they can seize important events, and the feelings during those moments, the things which you could not say to anyone but occupy your mind.

What do you think?

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