Considering its an all new chapter of my life I have started here the count of lessons too shall begin from that very first number we were taught to write as ‘one standing line’.
#1. Distance hurts but we got to do what we like best with that distance
As you grow into a mature butterfly with every single day that passes by, you also realise that even as you try to keep that pain and tears away from your dear ones, wanting not to see them dissolve in that pain, they are doing the same at the other end, protecting you as always. Pro- tec-tion. Se-cure. Its fab-u-lous how words form a melody and a meaning in themselves. How se-cure makes us cure and how pro life is pro-tec-tion? Did you ever share this with these words, for they know not the meaning they hold?
Yes, they’ve been loved ever since their re-cog-ni-tion and val-ue added some more val-ue to the already eventful life. There is this sol-ace ( sole-ace) that they give, perhaps darling as you find a fondness in that reading, I find mine in writing. The words bind us the way they always have.
If extroverts had an option to find solace then maybe they would want to have one special gift from their loved introverts. It would be being at peace with that fabulous book and a comfy corner. To think of, it’s not hard, right? In fact nothing is hard until it is tried and tested. As a writer writes, a comfort and that special solace comes by, not coz words have always been loved but because words as they come by, they leave soft kisses on a heart that longs for love every single day, on a heart that has been full of life every single day.
Once a teacher told her student, who was annoyed by the fact that she was not a good reader. He said “Just that there is a need for readers there is also a need for writers, for if there are no writers whom shall one read?” These words brought a smile to her face, for she was a writer and still continues to be. There may not be many people who read what she writes, there may not be that appreciation for her words, at a large scale, but knowing that she always writes because it pleases her is a beauty in itself. Why, you ask? The pleasure that small things give is at times magnified by the big things, to the extent that one forgets the sole of happiness in big events. She writes coz she loves. She also writes because some day she would like to gift these words, little bundle of joys to her children when they grow up, hoping that they would nurture these little curly letters in their own ways.