‘Mayur, you are a Writer!’
I remember school, over myriads of bad memories there, some few memories are ones which bring a smile to my face.
It was seventh grade when I wrote an essay and the teacher announced I had written the one which she loved the most. It was a simple one, in which I did nothing but describe Diwali (a Hindu festival).
I never wrote anything after that which gave me such rave but I never stopped trying.
Now I am sure I won’t be the only one who hates regional language subjects. I had to suffer Marathi. I have nothing against the dialect, I just always thought the coursework was obsolete. No one speaks such a language anymore!
And while I struggled to get my massive handwriting fit into the lines of the paper, to get the grammar and spellings correct, I had to write essays in Marathi too. One of my tuition teachers I will always remember encouraged us to write essays and submit it to her so she could give us feedback. And the feedback she gave
‘Mayur, you are a writer!’
I remember the look on her face, I remember the astonished faces of my classmates around me and most importantly I remember that small feeling of warmth spreading across my chest. I was proud even if my essay was full of incorrect errors, and the spellings would make my essay almost unintelligible, she understood what I wrote. She understood and she let me know I have scope. That I can write.
That was the push I will always have. The perfect motivation to pick up a pen and paper and pour my heart & soul into it. To write holding nothing back.
Around my twelfth grade I made two of the first best friends I could get. Ayush and Melvin. No matter how much I thank them it won’t be enough. While we were supposed to study and have sleepless nights being tensed, we wrote. All three of us. That was for me, my break from the entire hard work. We wrote stories, letters, poems and shared with others. I as usual brutally harassed them with my honesty. I have an imagination, reading books gave me more and more perspective.
And I kept writing after that. Ideas came to me a dime a dozen. Movies, TV shows, novels, songs, everything was my source of inspiration. Everything.
Today I have many who appreciate my writing. Some cry(like always) when they read my pieces. My blog. And then suddenly I got someone with whom I can share some of my ideas.
Someone who is also writing, which is nothing less than her life’s most primal fears. And she is sharing them with me. And I’m sharing my writing with her.
Words might make amends but to me, but it was my writing which strengthened bonds with others.
Thanks For Reading