I have never written about this. Now I wonder why.
I grew up watching my dad end his day with a few notes in his journal. I followed suit when I started to understand what he was doing. I was 11. My sister followed me after a few years and got it started even earlier than that. She took on many things from me and since I had tried and tested it, she could confidently do it, at a much younger age. She wrote different things though. She wrote short stories, poems and drew. She was 7. She wrote about dad as a character in some distant story because we seldom saw him. It is beautiful how I never understood that then and how I do now. She wrote about flowers, magic and smile. She wrote strong poems full of hope and I was her marketer. I shared them with as many people as I could and got it published wherever I could. I was proud of her, I still am.
Me, on the other hand, could only write personal stories, like this one. I cannot make things up and poems come to me once in a decade. But they do and when they do, they are awesome. So I keep writing about stuffs going on like friends, exams and mom. In 2008, during my second year in college, I ventured into blogging. Eight years have passed. I still have a journal where I write. Not everyday. Sometimes not for months. I have moved on from recording my daily activities to larger things in life like my feelings about things I see, hear or read. My experiences, my memories, my fear and my joys. I write well and so people say. People say this blog doesn’t have the audience it deserves and it because I don’t market it well. No, I don’t. In fact, I am shy to share this with people whom I know in real. Its so strange. How you open up to the whole world but cannot share the same with the people you have known all your life or people who actually care for you. But somehow the freedom you get in this kind of writing is so different. You are still writing to people but you don’t have to care how they will take it. So many strange things in life.
Writing is my way of surviving everything, good and bad. As much as I share it with people, I am not at peace since I have those words typed/written somewhere, to come back to whenever I want, even years later.
Something that I picked up very young was reading. And yes, my sister too,much younger. If I read Sydney Sheldon when I was 16, she must have by the age of 12. But I don’t think she reads any more. She is creating stuffs of her own. Again, proud of her. I haven’t stopped reading, but the things I read have changed drastically. I don’t find even Dan Brown so amazing now. Books are amazing creatures. They transport us to different worlds and in turn inspire us to write. I will never let go of reading in life, even if it comes down to just one book a year, I will make it count.
People meditate. I cook. I forayed into this after marriage and only recently realized how much of calm it gives me, even after a heavy day. The aroma of food soothes my mind and the sound of the pots and pans is the music I open up to. I cannot wait to get out of my cramped up kitchen and start cooking in my bright sunny one at our own new apartment. I am going to cook the rest of my life for friends and family, as a stress reliever and for my future food blog. Believe it or not, my sister picked this up way before me. I remember how she used to dress up the round salt biscuits with cheese, tomato, onion, etc and how she loved to make bhel puri at home. Recently she has started cooking with
fire gas. This, we must have got it from mom. She is not crazy about it like I am, but I know its something she likes to do provided she has a lot of time. I remember stumbling upon a white diary once in which she had noted the recipes of navratan kurma and malai kofta. She is yet to make them though, sadly.
I said that reading takes us places, but is that really enough? Not for me! I love travelling, even though I haven’t done much of it and looking at my husband, I don’t think we will ever turn out to be the travelling couple. But there are some places I wish to visit in my lifetime, I am sure I will make it to some of the, at least. I have started making a list and you can read it here. I also have a road trip on mind as soon as my husband and me become a driving expert (we don’t even own a car now). I was at my travelling best during my months in UK, I don’t think I will ever be able to go on such a spree again in my life but that one time was enough, to keep up the drive. To travel, to see the unknown, to travel the road less traveled and learn the unlearned. Yes, I don’t want to see the Eiffel tower in Paris, I want to run through the Lavender fields in Provence. I see myself there one day. I will.
May be there will be a part 2 for this post some day, but for now, this is it. Good night folks.