There are certain things that become so much a part of you that you are unable to point out when and how you came to embrace it so wholeheartedly. So much that it is now a part of your being. Writing, to me, has become just that. So this June, when Ink on Paper turned one year old, it did not strike me at all. It seems as if it has always been there as my faithful pocketbook, ever open and ready to absorb and share the musings of my mind, the memories that I want to note down in detail to cherish later on, the ideas and emotions that are deep rooted and strong .. The list is a long one.
This space has given me the same comfort offered by that rare friend who understands my words just the way I mean them and gives that knowing nod of perfect empathy. It has been a bolster to my spirits at all times – happy or not so happy. It has made me know my mind on so many aspects of life. In short, it has become an expression of my being itself. If you leaf through the pages of this book, you would come to know me quite well.
I cannot describe the sense of satisfaction that I derive out of writing and the joy of seeing it published in an ordered manner. When I see my fellow bloggers taking the time to read what I have written and leaving a line or two in reply, I feel so encouraged. The blogsphere has introduced me to so many wonderful people and some real good writing.
So, though I do not feel the need for a formal celebration and birthday wishes to my space, I want to acknowledge the wonders that it has done to me. Just with a smile on my inclined head J
I want to thank all my fellow bloggers and regular readers, without whom I would not have the motivation to write on these pages. That I ever got the boldness to create this space and the determination to keep at it for a whole year now is largely because of you all.
I also want to give a special thanks to my dad. He is my most regular reader and gives his opinion on every post that I write. When the frequency of my posts recently started dwindling, he tirelessly kept asking me as to why I wasn’t writing. And when I published after a long time, he was the first to message me and feel happy for the Liebster award (though he had no clue as to what it was and asked for an explanationJ). I know he is proud of his daughter’s linguistic abilities(ahem J) and I am so relieved that I finally did something to make him proud J
Jokes apart, my love for the English language is entirely because of the reading habit that he inculcated in me while I was still a very young kid and schooling at one of the best institutions that he and mom put me through. Reading and writing have turned out to be such a big source of happiness in life.
And finally to the man who has no choice but to compulsorily read all that I write (Just like eating whatever I cook and tolerating my baffling mood swings and idiosyncrasiesJ) He reads solely because I happen to be the author and that is something no one else will do for me. I am fighting with time to keep at reading, writing and music amidst hectic workweeks, weekend outings (that’s not hectic) and managing a house. This is possible only because we are together in the battle and he is actually the mightier solider, fighting the larger part and forcing me into action whenever I am on the verge of giving up on these and getting run over by life’s everyday drone.
Now that the credits are over .. Sigh.. My Ink on Paper is already one year old (dabs eyes with a tissue and sniffs). Hey wait, did I say I wasn’t going to get formal, emotional and all? Did I really?