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Ufff…its hard :(

I had to take one statement from my previous post to begin with. These days i have been in an excited mode for creative ideas especially regularly updating my journal, reading, listening to any few carnatic tracks and drawing too… :p (i know it might seem too much of creativity, but a little of all everyday to keep stress out of my realm). 

But my excitement was put to a sudden break!!! My right hand started getting excruciating pain on its last two fingers. The doc said it could be because of some pressure on my nerves connected to those fingers. My heart and mind filled with creative ideas, my table scattered with wide variety of notebooks, pens, paints etc. But i am helpless. They all are looking at me waiting for me to start. Even after i started getting pain, i neglected it,i continued working on laptop scrolling mouse, did a sketch and continued my daily journal entry. By the time i finished, i knew i am done. The night reminded me of my carelessness, couldn’t find peace with the pain even for a nap.

Its been the third day, my hand with crepe band, painkillers and relief sprays. Sleepless time, can’t even move the fingers. Yet i was crazy enough to do two posts for my blog. Typing with less experienced left hand and tough taming of mouse with the unmovable bandaged palm. Every now and then, i exhale “Ufff”….”Huhh”…..”Oppppss” with the pulsating pain and shivering fingers. The only relief is i can continue with reading my new book “The Girl in the Garden” by  “Kamala Nair“. Diving into the world and thought trails of a girl is reviving the child in me. The landscape of rural areas of Kerala, the livelihood, life styles, traditions and cultures of people give the picturesque of Kerala during the beginning of 90’s.


Now only i realize how much less i have trained my left hand. I was even thinking to be personally okay if this had happened to my left palm instead of right. But whether its left or right hand or any part of the body, even an ant bite will steal our peaceful nights. Wishing that physiotherapy can rectify and put my nerves back to normal. Hoping to survive the pain soon and get back to my usually routine of work, write, read and even planning to start doodling (after all nothing is wrong with trying)! 

remembering World Book Day…


Saturdays usually start with the nurturing of laziness in me. While surfing across i came to know that today is World Book Day (April 22nd). It made me feel search for suitable pics for writing this post. Whenever i get the thought of writing a post, the first thing i do is search for pics. I spent good amount of time especially for illustrative pictures. After i am satisfied with few good pics, then i start writing. These days i have been in an excited mode for creative ideas especially regularly updating my journal, reading, listening to any few carnatic tracks and drawing too… :p (i know it might seem too much of creativity, but a little of all everyday to keep stress out of my realm).


So many electronic sophistication have arrived and everyday some new gadget is coming into our market. In spite of all these i haven’ t felt the decrease in the number of readers. From verbal form to papyrus/paper, to e books and audio books. These changes always inspired people to accept them for the great deal of convenience they offer.Books have made its readers live thousands of life beyond the barriers of civilizations, real-fantasy world and space. We traveled among constellations, with the mythical creatures or warriors.


I have been born in the era where people depended mostly on library for enriching the habit of reading. Routine weekly visit to the library located in the village or library associated with the school or college kept the habit of reading alive at a time when buying books weren’t affordable. I do collect all possible forms of books (pdf, kindle version, illustrated version, audio books) but still prefer to read paper form with an intermittent sniffing of the pages. Most of the books from library owned its own wear and tear from the years of use yet they had lots of stories to share with us.

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In our village library each member can take 3 books. I used to take book in my account, my little sister’s and my uncle’s account. Every weekend i had 9 books with me. I was overwhelmed with joy of holding them. I start reading as soon as reach home. Next target is to finish them before the next Saturday. I travel with them to college and try to read while travelling or break time and even during the exam study days. I didn’t kept any specific criteria for selection of book those days. Just tried to read in English as well as Malayalam mostly novels. When i look back those were the times when i was totally addicted for books. I spent most of my nights with the books. I wasn’t spared from my parents especially mother’s scolding for sleeping less and reading more. Every morning i found my book on the table far away from my hand’s reach kept by mom so that i don’t read as soon as i woke up :p My classmates used to hide my books especially for staying secluded. I had the craziness to read the book “Twilight by Stephanie Meyer” for 21 times during my graduation time. Now it seems damn craziness of the entry time to adulthood. Even now my roomie has lot of patience to spare me for keeping the lights on most of the nights. After many years i read that book two years back just to check whether i was still curious with Edward, Bella & Jacob.Time for fantasy themes isn’t outdated in my mind. It has taken a new form : “Historical Fictions“.All life’s Trilogy” by Deborah Harkness, “The Historian” by Elizabeth Kostova are few among them. 


In these years i have been able to evolve/expand in selecting books or reading criteria. Poetry, Novel, Epic, Historical, Mythology, Travelogue, Essays, Short stories, Memoirs, Children’s classic, Scientific, Cinema, Art etc.  I was able to start having my own personal collection too. Few years back, there was a general thought ” whether the habit of reading is diminishing?” Even i had such doubts. But now i don’t think it  will diminish. It has taken new face and form, yet continuing its mission to share knowledge beyond ages. Never tired of reading…and always ready for a new book…


One fine morning…


Where am i? Ufff…..this isn’t my usual time to wake up. The chirpy voices of the several birds could be heard which is against the usual silence  in my room. I can’t believe myself …i am awake so early. I am lying on a flat mat, my hands could easily make out that i wasn’t on my comfy bed.I slowly opened my eyes to look around and nor am i in my room at the apartment in the noisy city.

Now i could find the answer for my question. I am not in the city where i live for a living. I traveled several hours and reached this country side which i have only know through a travel article. Its far in the eastern side of my country and here i am leaving behind the multitude of vehicles, humans and buildings. My soul required some peace and hence i started my journey inspired by an article. I don’t hate the city where i live.  But i do believe that the moments of solitude is also a necessity to feed my spirit. The city could make the spirit suffocate on a long term run. Inspiration, followed by curiosity made this trip real within few days.

I came here last evening and prior to my trip itself i was lucky enough to make home stay by a small family. It was arranged by the local forest officer. This village is almost at the border of jungle and forest guards keep surveillance over the forest border. A middle aged tribal man led my way to a beautiful tiny home roofed with earthen tiles. The greenish black color of the roofing tiles reflected the home to be much aged. Two kids were playing in front of the house. A middle aged man came from the backyard and it seemed he was working in the field. He welcomed me with a smile since the forest officer had already informed my arrival.  He introduced his wife and children and led my way to the place of stay. Facing the owner’s house nearly at hundred meter distance, there was another small house. This wasn’t visible  since several trees kept the house almost hidden from view.

This home too was a pretty little one. Handing over the key, the man informed His elder girl to make sure of my hospitality. The girl left me after helping me with settling down in the room. The house more or less seemed vacant. It sparsely had any furniture or any other house hold utensils. The house had a room, a hall plus kitchen and veranda on all four sides.  The girl brought an earthen pot filled with water and kept at one corner of the hall. A puppy came following her. He was energetic and became friendly very fast. The radiant smile of her face made me feel comfortable enough to start conversing with her. In another few minutes, i came to know that she is in her fifth grade and her brother in third grade. They are having their summer vacation now. Puppy followed the little girl back to her home.

It was getting dark and i went back to unpack my bag. After having a light dinner with the family i got back to my temporary nest. The puppy escorted me back to my room. The cold air gushed into my lungs and i have started to feel relax. There was electricity and i forcefully made up my mind to stay away from books for one night. In no time i slipped into deep sleep.

Slowly i woke up and sat leaning on the wall having a fine glance at the room. It’s a small room with earthen walls polished finely with mud. There are big wooden windows with wooden rods on two sides of the walls. May be that’s one of the reason for the coolness inside the room. A simple room with a mat made of grass. These types of mats are no longer found to be seen anywhere. On one side there is a dwarf wooden table where i have kept my writer belongings, camera and the wall shelf holds my travel bag.I had kept the windows open last night and hence the sun shine is trying hard to gaze into my room through the lush green branches.

Paakhi came wishing me morning. She had a glass of hot tea. With her came her little brother Monu, he was little shy. We came and sat in the front veranda. Monu slowly became comfortable. Now only person left behind to join our company was Paakhi’s puppy, Akku. Akku came wagging his tail, crawled and found place between mine and Paakhi’s legs. Monu kept playing in the front side with a palm leaf ball. It’s just 7.45 am and i could spot several birds at the nearby trees and bushes. There were bamboo tree crowded at little distance.

I quickly finished my morning routines and went for breakfast. Front side of the house was embellished by several wild plants and bushes. Some had flowers of red, yellow and violet. A thick climber perched over a mango tree on the side of the wild garden. Several chickens were found running behind a mother hen.  There was a cattle shed nearby the house. I could see two cows and few goats inside. A big hay stack was standing on the side of the shed. The backyard held a vegetable farming. There i could find both the parents of the kids back to the routine farming works. The mother fetched water from a near by stream and water the plants. Paakhi helped her mother  and Monu played among the plants. Akku was testing his teeth sharpness on a small firewood.

I walked bare foot around the house and watched the entire surroundings. Here the summer doesn’t cause heat strokes compared to the cities. The sun rays tingled my skin. The wild winds brought raw summer fragrances from the nearby flora. The fluttering leaves and logs of the bamboo swayed with the wind and talked to each other. The stream had cold water coming from the sloppy mountain and ran into a pond on the far north. There were several paddy fields down towards the plain and i could make faint sights of people working in the fields. It was a beautiful feast for my eyes. I decided to take Paakhi and Monu as my local travel guides. This alluring place will sooth my soul and may be let me begin a new book in the coming days…. a journey to find my “SELF”!




I had the crazy habit of smelling fountain ink. Someone was the reason for it. There was a girl who was my senior at school as well as at my church catechism class. Let her name be Diya. We were friends; she was always fond of ink pen and used only them no matter when or where. Whenever I met her, I have noticed her fingers which held several stains of blue ink especially on her right thumb and point finger. Her note books/diaries were so unanimous and neatly written. Somehow I pursued my mother to get me fountain pen and chelpark blue ink. In fact mom had taken me to the small town adjacent to our village for the monthly purchase and asked me to choose from what the shopkeeper had displayed. My first ink pen! I was so happy to get the pen. Its body was white with different colors of heart shapes on it and cost 15 rupees. I happened to save it for many years. With the age I lost it. Even now when I see ink pens, I feel a strange adoration for my mother. Also for letting me take my choice from my childhood.
In my school days I used to observe and copy the handwriting style of my classmates: long, stunted, slanting, running letters etc etc. I attempted to follow Diya’s handwriting too. I succeeded also to some point. I started using ink pen at school for all the classes. But I was sad for an unusual reason. Now the reason seems ridiculous. But for the child in me, it was significant. Even after using ink pen for whole day I never got any ink stains on my fingers like Diya. As days went, I purposefully got stains on the fingers and at the end of the day those stains made me feel happy. There originates my crazy habit of smelling the ink! Even tried writing with feathers of cuckoo, and duck.
I am thankful to Diya for evolving one more quality in me and that’s WRITING! This doesn’t mean that Diya used to write any literature works instead she used to write diary regularly. Since I was already following her footsteps somehow the idea of writing diary switch on, in me. May be at my 7th standard I started writing diary. That was a time when I blindly believed in spirituality. During my recent visits to home, few of the old diaries came up. I didn’t read my scribbling instead I was looking at my handwriting styles. I couldn’t stop laughing at my awkward habit.
With time, I got some what OK type hand writing and continued maintaining a diary till my college days. In schooldays, I attempted stories but wasn’t confident enough. It had the influence of novels which I came across on those days. I felt my writing to be above of my age and hence tore off all. Now I feel I shouldn’t have done that. Another thing which influenced my writing attempts was a Malayalam movie “Aaranyakam”. In the movie the actress is depicted to write diary, roam around the woods. She used to fill her tote bag with any book from her reading list, a water bottle, binocular, diary and fountain pen. I imitated her so many times on my school weekend days :p
I wasn’t interested in poetry and never took serious interest in essays/poems, short stories etc. I always preferred for novels. But with time and opportunity, that attitude changed; a mind ready to perceive in a broader spectrum. Without even reading much poetry, I started writing poetry. Most of them were attempted during post-graduation time due to some or the silly other frustrations. After 5 years, I brought those attempts to light and few good opinions/comments also I received on them. In the meanwhile I slowly found poetry to be readable for me.
I feel it all depends on the mood of a writer. Whether it is in the form of story/ poetry/ essay aim is to convey the theme/message or thought. So according to the writer’s mind set up, he can attempt and has the soul authority to give birth to any of the literature end products. I have attempted poetry 5 years back and now again I am back to essays and short stories. May be this is how it is. But I am always surprised by the home work done by the writers for weaving their historical fictions. That’s just brilliant attempt to live/describe places and eras which they haven’t ever known.
I feel proud to be born on the land of Tagore. Land of literary giants; many known as well as many remain unknown ones who walked into the past. Because of them we have the chance to know the diverse minds/culture etc. of our land. I am not eligible to say much about the glorious literary past which we hold.
No matter I write or not, one thing I am damn sure about and it’s about my affinity for books. I can’t live without them!!!

The Day!


Huhhhhh…there I can see a girl in the mirror. She is beautiful yet tensed and silent. A doll wrapped in grandeur Indian bridal outfit with shimmers of gold and finest red fabric. A red stole covering over her braided head showing slight glimpses of white jasmine flowers. She is wearing finest jewels yet reflecting simplicity. A red bindhi and a maang tikka, a tiny nose stud, black kohled eyes, subtle stained lips. A tiny round black kohl mark down beneath her ear, it’s a tradition to get rid of the evil eyes. She doesn’t seem to be aware about any rush around her now. She seems totally lost somewhere in her own world. The lehenga is best featuring her feminine body.
A little effort is needed to get those eyes sparkle on her the day. But where is her mind? Is she happy with the wedding? A message beeped in her phone and as soon as she reads “YAHIN HOON MEIN”, a smile crossed her lips. She looks ahead over the mirror and saw people walking in rush. A deep breath, come back to present, it’s my wedding day; the day, I told myself.
No matter how much I am consoled yet I hold this strange feeling of going to an entirely different ambience. Too much I think…I can’t stop myself from thinking. How will I manage my new life in a new place with the family which has entirely different cultural dimensions? We belong to two different states….language, religion, culture, cuisine, tradition etc. etc. These were all societal difference which never came into mind when we fell in love. Yet to bring the families together and melt the ice, these differences sprout out into mind. Those were the days when I hold the extreme patience. Family never stands against the happiness. Hence today I am here, a few moments away from my wedding ceremony.
Whenever I am going down deep into my thoughts, somehow he senses it. Either I get a call or message and bring me up. How can someone sense you when we aren’t around them? I haven’t ever felt like this before. Even now he brought me back to present. I looked around. The language doesn’t hold back happiness of our wedding among our families. I haven’t seen him after the wedding rituals like mehendi, haldi etc started. We can see each other only at the time of ceremony. Whenever I complain about it, he just laughs aloud. He knew very well how much curiosity is bubbling in me. I know that he too feel that more than what I feel, but he doesn’t show it now.
I tell him that it’s really becoming difficult to stay without seeing him. I wasn’t like this before I met him. His arrival has changed many things in me. He totally uprooted me from my routine. I didn’t realize the change until it became obvious about the realization. The realization that, it’s him, who can tame me. I never liked anyone force me to do anything. He had the right spell for me. Slowly yet within no time, he had the nomadic spirit of mine. Making me see how to set free myself from the hindrances, which hold back the nomad in me. I never had to hold back my mind…in fact my lips got back it’s smile and eyes it’s happiness. Oh my God! I am madly in love with him. Exhaling breath left a smile on my face. Yes, now I am not afraid to tell that I am in love. Nor can I neglect the fact that he can’t live without me.
His little sis came and informed that it’s time for the ceremony. All my family is here and their smiling happy faces are all on me as I stepped into the hall. My beautiful sisters are on both sides. They too have been longing for this day, wedding of their big sis. Mom and dad joined me. Dad seems tensed more than mom…he is emotional than mom. My brother is standing near the stage. He is happy too but seems serious. I could see many faces smiling at me, but I couldn’t respond well to them. My eyes were consciously in search. I could see the beautifully smiling little sis, and his parents near the mandap waiting for me. After one second, my eyes found what I wanted to see and there he is! He is wearing a golden color groom’s outfit with red tilak on his forehead. He is having his amazing naughty smile. I was feeling irritated for staying away last two days and he could read it too. He just giggled. In another second, he got back his intense gaze over me. His face had so many unsaid things which I could read. He wants to hug me, I could get it. I couldn’t stop smiling and obviously as usual he gets irritated whenever I caught his unsaid emotions.
The eye to eye talk of us was shadowed. My brother came forward and held my hands and led me to climb the steps of the stage. His one hand was over my shoulder. He was the tiny cute baby whom I loved so much. Now he is grown up and big enough to protect me. My eyes were on his face, smiling yet my eyes became wet. As soon as I reached, the smiling face at the mandap caught my mind status and signed me to take deep breath. I could see his face glowing with happiness. I did so and felt back to present.
The priest started reciting the hymns and rituals. Even though I didn’t understand much, I have only seen this mostly on the screens. The meaning and significance of each was explained to me. When time came to tie the knot, he was smiling and reading my face. He opened an embellished slender box which held a beautiful thin chain with tiny black beads and a pendant. He kept his word! The chain was really thin and cute. He didn’t want the remembrance of our matrimony to be heavy on me. I couldn’t stop my astonishment and looked at him. He was smiling and as if waiting to see my reaction. He just winked his eyes. The shower of flower distracted us and we looked around. Rituals continued for few more minutes. He came forward and whispered in my ears: NOW I AM LEGALLY YOUR LOVELY HUSBAND! I just poked his nose and said “OH, IS THAT SO? THEN I AM YOUR LOVELY WIFE”. My voice was little louder, all others looked at us and broke into laughter…



It’s time for me to bid goodbye to this room…this place…from last few years had been my place of rest…this room holds so much of my memories …witnessed my happiness…joy…sorrow…depressions and many more unexplained/upraised/uncelebrated emotions and scenes of my life related to this place. Yet I wasn’t attached too much to this…I always tried to avoid getting emotionally linked to this room…since I knew that one day I will have to go through this day… so I was mentally prepared…

The room was filled with books…magazines…dresses and what not…all major things were courier on previous days… and now just packing the final unavoidable things and starting the journey…huh …. A new journey… NEW HOPE.

I was asking me…so where is this sudden drift leading me to? Once I reach this destiny will I be able to say that “This is it”? There is hope in my breath…everything seems so quick now… checked the ticket…timing…I lost the count of checking and making myself realize that it’s REAL! He kept his word. Finally he is taking me. Deep exhales are coming out. May be I should start believe in miracle…maybe I should believe his words…I deserve to be happy and to be loved…I too can stay happy without being hurt…without being masking myself…just be ME!

At the other end of this journey, a small bed and someone with open hands is waiting for me…a deep sleep and when I wake up… i will part of a new life…a new beginning… so far I haven’t seen that new destination. But imaginations from the narrations make me feel…it’s going to be beautiful which will just make me happier. I have fallen in love for the place.

The cab came on time. Curiosity is growing in me. I am just few hours away from touching a long wished dream. The flight landed on the plains and now I need to travel the altitude. Easily I could find the bus for the hill. Felt grateful that he made privilege to get my heavy luggage earlier itself. One more hour…slowly butterflies of curiosity have begun to fly inside me. Mind is getting refreshed and my camera is continuously at work…searching for the story of every people I come across. May be at the end of this travel…i will be refilled for my next write up. As I have read somewhere, every face has a story…

The altitude slowly increased with twist and turns. The landscape is ready to welcome the winter. It’s been told that in few weeks’ time this mountain will be draped in white velvety snow. It’s my life time experience at a hill station…that too going to get rooted in a new land…which doesn’t own anything belonged to my tradition/culture. I am entering this land like a bohemian and going to a part of this land from now on. There is excitement and happiness is getting my spirit rise. But more than all these happiness, there is an immense pain of longing to see the beloved, who have been always reinforcing me through his voice through the ups and downs…

Huh… the thought having the first glance of my beloved…my exhaling breath hold so much pain and desperation to be with my better half. The bus halted for its last stop. As per instructions, I will be received by our home caretaker whom we call “Kaakka”. The word “our home” is giving me joy and pride. There he is, a man with my nameplate. He smiled and greeted me. He took one of my bags and walked ahead through the path running between the lush green trees. Just at half a kilometer distance, lies our new home. The ferns wet my shoes with dew drops. It’s 11.30am and yet the air still holds the chillness of the morning. The sunshine is creating patterns on the ground even though the leaves are trying to hide the rays.

The trees are giving way to opening space and as I finished crossing trees, a small slantingly roofed green and white cottage came into view. The house owns a garden and an orchard at the sideways. There is an arch of white and pink bougainvillea plants as the stoned laid path begins with a small wooden fence. The sunshine is reaching more clearly now yet the mist in the air is giving the effect of early morning. Kaakka went ahead, kept the bags and wished me a good day. My legs stopped in front of the bougainvillea arch. My mind was trying to register the long desired dream into reality. A deep exhale and I was back from the enchantment. Suddenly the heart started pounding, mixture of happiness, longing, pain. I can’t hold back, need to step ahead. Finally it’s time to see him.

Each step of mine seemed heavy; I didn’t realize that my vision was getting blurred. Something chilled my cheeks, stream of tears. I almost stumbled and felt. As I opened my eyes, I realized I didn’t fall. In no time I was standing and a hand was holding me. A lightening bolt of energy went through my hand where the hand touched me. My eyes were met by a pair of brown eyes which held happiness and were ready to tease me as ever it had been. No words were uttered! In fact no words were required. The eyes told the tales of long waiting…Now I was held in his hands; a smile began to appear on his lips.

Oh my God!!!! I have been missing these brown eyes, this wanting to be held protected. Deep breathe broke off from me as well as I started smiling with tears. The tears didn’t fall on ground. It was kissed and wiped off. The nearness made me feel the warm breath even at this altitude. I began to mumble something but was stopped. I started biting lips as usual whenever my heart flood with emotions and need words to express them. In no time I was hugged tightly and the breath of numerous unsaid emotions broke out from him. His heartbeat was loud enough for me to sense it. I could feel the wetness of his tears over my shoulder. I didn’t stop him. After few moments he marked his kiss on my forehead and led me inside our home. OUR HOME!!!

PS: The finest thread for this post isn’t mine. In fact i just woven the threads. Some one recently lemme see a glimpse of an amazing concept which gave me the kick to write this. No words are enough to express the happiness to that person, who let me weave. Its a two day effort while the idea started churning from last week. I had immense joy as if i lived in it when i wrote in the early morning of my Mumbai life 🙂


Need of a friend……


Days and years have passed

So many faces passed ahead

Few were familiar ones

No one owned what i searched for

So what i searched in those faces?

For the purest form of friendship

Searched for my childhood friends

I don’t recognize any of them anymore.

Strange! with them i shared my food

They were part of my childhood life.

Now i don’t remember even their names

Nor their faces if crossed my path.

People, places, time everything changed.

Except one thing: my search.

My search for the innocent friendships.

I kept asking each and everyone

All whom i met on my journey.

With time i was forced to walk ahead

I walked but my heart wept

I was still in search

I wished just to have one.

Years passed, a truth was revealed

Its a bliss to have one at least.

One who will stand by you.

No matter what you are.

My search went on…so many faces

But only one answer: i don’t deserve!

It hurt me, wounded me

Yet i didn’t accept my failures nor my loneliness…..

Even with years my wound remained same

Time kept running ahead…

New places, new life…kept me busy

So busy that i wasn’t left to remember.

To remember my wounds….

Even at the darkest hour of nights!

Those faces and their answers haunted me.

“I don’t deserve them! “

Will this be the same answer forever?

Will there be an end to my search?

Tears aren’t left any, eyes yet with hopes….

Not ready for failures!

Its more tough than getting a life partner.

Search for a true friend.

For a person with an innocent heart

Eyes sparkling happiness, Smiling lips and open arms.

Ready to hug me and tell me

You are my friend, stop your search.

I’ll stand by you, no matter what,

Wont leave you ever…..

Till our grave, we are friends!

PS: I felt so good to attach the pic of an Indian boy with a puppy since usual people like to post fair people, but i made a change. The dog really symbolizes the truth of its friendship for mankind.

(Image Courtesy: Child and Puppy “A homeless Indian child plays with a puppy in New Delhi on February 13, 2012.”

my first attempt……


Yes, its my first attempt in writing a blog. From a long time, this thought has been there in me (in a beep mode). Few friends also motivated me…..There existed a confusion too…which language do i prefer to express: english or malayalam? I use both languages depending on mood. Even now i have that doubt: may be i should try both 🙂 I am not too consistent in writing daily basis. From my childhood, i was more attached to books and had the habit of writing diary. It could be about a book or movie or anything.  But i wasn’t much a complain box to my diaries. There has been few motivations too. One of them was a female character from a malayalam movie “Aranyakam”. Yet i felt i should scribble down my thoughts….. Its late in the evening and all of a sudden i had the spark to start….i got a suggestion when i said that i am thinking of a blog…”don’t let sadness reflect in your writing!”. Its not necessary that i should write only when i am frustrated or reflect my opinion regarding any imbalance i see around me. I am shy/ little afraid too…in writing. Conscious about whether there will be repetition of statements/over explanation of situations, vocabulary etc etc….all the inertia reasons for a beginner blogger…