At a tender of teens when your mind is soul searching and is incessantly engaged in quest for pursuing an identity, this love affair began at that time for me. I was persistent in my attempts to search for a single talent in me which I can cash on. After giving up on my dreams to pursue music and dancing when I was lauded for my flair to carve out emotions through words, I instantly developed a bond with them. It was a gift, I realize now, which I then tended and nurtured, each day acquiring tools to make it shine.  Amongst the plethora of writers, I too wanted my words to glimmer. I would never approve of my words being confined to the space of 147 characters. They meant much more to me. I saw my seeds in them. I wanted them to bloom and fly. Fly high and transcend the boundaries.

All that I always craved about and was starved for were words. People have varied phobias- of air, water, fire. Mine, was of lost of words. They were my only treasure. I loved collecting them, keeping them safe in the vault of my mind and discharging them when need be. They were to me what a child is to a mother. They were my allies and my foes. An incomprehensible, love-hate relation is what I had with them, I still do. They were to me like shiny droplets of rainwater on the palm of your hand. They shimmered like diamonds and were as attractive & magnetic as pearls. They were my best friends. I would love to wear them, literally. I had a thing for newspaper printed bags, t-shirts or shoes, I still do. And like I said, my affinity for words is, was and will be incomprehensible. Some would shrug it off as insane and some who identify with it would probably hesitate to call it sane. Sane or insane, my sanity rests in them.

I live to write and write to live, is what I always say, believe in and what it actually means to me. It is my only bread earner, my solace in solidarity, a peaceful abode I look up to in times of trouble and it is everything that it can be, human, humane or otherwise! I identify myself with the words, they are as important to me as my blood ties. My love for my talent and my words is unfathomable. Words are my friends, fate, fortune, opponent as well as a lover. I feel no shame to wear them, tear them or take them to bed with me.  

Many chase the tangible, material things and I run behind this intangible sum.  The ones who put me to sleep and can keep me awake. Amongst my dreadful dream is to not to be with them. I am for them, as they are for me. We are inseparable like the conjoined twins. We might hate each other, cuss each other (at times) yet we stand by each other (all times). I know of the words that can pleasure me and the ones that sting me and still they are a part of me. Every words that goes in an article is a piece of me.

I breathe words and I live in them. That’s what keeps me going. A life is what they are to me. A passion, which can surpass madness. I expect nothing from this relationship but only that they be nice to me and hold on to me (as I will hold on to them), till eternity.

I live to write and I write to live.