Leaves that flutter in the breeze, little songsters of the woods, eager beaver grass heads that start peeping out at the threshold of spring, trotting squirrels that spread cheer around- these are some of the every day sights and sounds that give me an urge to write.
People have always been a fascination for me; I love their subtleties rather than overt behaviors. Just like wonder is a great inspiration, sorrow and pain are too, especially when I see it in the lives of others. As I write about them, I feel one with them, my heart goes out to them, and that I feel is my way of response, an honest reciprocation.
Things about myself that I am unable to comprehend; there are quite a few. The way my mind takes me on a high when I am with the written word, the way my existence elevates a few notches higher when I listen to the spoken word; those brilliantly expressed ones that touch the heart and exhort the mind to soar higher- these are beyond my words to express, nevertheless, I do make an attempt. Then again, the conflict of family over self, or self over family, whichever way the tide decides to turn at a particular moment in time, moves my fingers to pelt down words endlessly.