About

Everyone has an outlet. A means to express themselves and their innermost thoughts. Whether that is exercise, painting, cooking … we all have them. Words have always been mine. When I was little, I would write short stories on bits of folded paper. I would illustrate them with a handful of my grandfather's precious ink pens (his patience still astounds me). I would prance around my grandparents' home in India, 'book' in hand and forcing my entire family to sit and read it. Every page, every word. And then I would put it aside, get another piece of paper and start again.

My aunt has often told me that there was once a time, back then, where I had given her a short story I had written. I don't remember the specific details, but she tells me now that it was about feeling left out of a group of friends. I don't even remember writing it. Yet, I do remember the exact friends that made me feel that way. The art we create imitates the life we lead. Before I had even registered that writing was my therapy, I had been using it to reflect my emotions and my fears.

And that is why I am here. I have had this blog since I was 11 years old. It has undergone many changes (writing style, topics, name [!] ) but one thing it has always been is my outlet. My baby. And I hope that you will let it be yours too.