“There is no passion to be found in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living”
— Nelson Mandela
My parents tell me that since I was a little girl, ( and when I say little I mean ‘very little’ ) and was yet to learn how to read I coaxed them into reading storybooks after storybooks out loud just because I could not.
I mean what’s wrong in that? How can they deny me that. They brought me in this world, so the least they can do is to read me day after day, night after night. How difficult can that be.
It’s turns out very. But they still did it.
As I grew up the first thing I ever did was, I learnt to read. I have been told I never tore a single book in my younger days, not even a scratch. Well the case might be different now. I might have torn a page or two. :p
Moving on, as I kept reading I became more and more intrigued by the world the writers weaved with their words. I wanted to create my own, with their art. So I paid attention to how they did it. And the more attention I paid, the more I fell in love with this art form.
I kept scribbling here and there. I scribbled words and then threw them out. I did that for years and years. I kept my dreams and secrets well hidden. They were mine and mine alone. They were my sanctity. Always had been.
Then times changed. The rat race overtook us all including me. I did what I was destined to do. Got myself a degree. Toiled day and night and secured a good job. Still I felt lost.
See, life is a journey with a destination. Life should have a purpose. You can’t just wake up, eat, do your routine, eat, sleep and repeat. That’s what even animals do. And humans are not animals. They are much better than that. And the people who do what I mentioned above have yet to taste what I am talking about. Once you taste the high, the craving never goes away. The need to be better than your previous self. You just want to keep growing and learning. You want to be alive. When you wake up life really looks wonderful. I have met so many people in my life but sadly only 15% knew the high, the contentment up close.
I decided I never wanted to be included in that 85% of the population. So I kept thinking. Laid awake night after night. But I was still unable to figure out my next destination.
One day, me and my brother were discussing things. You know the rare moments when siblings have heart to heart talk. Here I should probably mention the fact that my brother belongs to that 15% of the population. So he knew exactly what was bothering me. But see I have a problem sharing my thoughts, feelings, secrets even if he is my brother. So after him speaking for 2 hrs and me listening , I don’t know how it came out that I had always wanted to write. He was quick to interrupt me and asked me just one question ‘Why don’t you start now? What’s stopping you?’
I never answered him because I am not good at sharing but I knew.
The fear of failure. That I may not be good enough. I considered it a dream far beyond my reach. But nothing is impossible. We can grab all we can in our fist. We just have to have faith in ourselves and the will to toil hard continuously, tirelessly.
Once you diagnose the cause, you figure out the cure too. So I took this huge leap of faith and started weaving my own world as I always imagined. I know I have so many things yet to learn, so many skills yet to polish. But I know I can do it.
Because giving up was never an option. Nor will it ever be.
Signing off from this end, serving my deepest secrets to you on the silver platter;