To pen down my thoughts started for me when I wasn't even allowed to use pens !! Gosh why ain't they let us call pencilling your thoughts or for the more daring : crayoning their thoughts!!
I wonder really wonder why? Guess that's where it all starts from.. 'Why' seems to be the first word I uttered I guess ;) Till this date I need to know why for anything and everything. It started with asking my father. Am definite he sure had some good lessons in keeping his patience thanks to the curious cat he has for a daughter!!!
My mum says I started speaking too early for a child, much before I was even a year old. All who know me am sure ain't too surprised to hear this. If I am quiet is when anyone would have a reason to fret. Cliched it may sound but no surprises If the phrase was coined after I was born or rather I started talking.
Before I wander off again in my wonderland.. This was about why (there the word makes its presence felt) I took up writing. We studied in an english medium school wherein only the medium of imparting education was english! I don't remember a single soul speaking in the wretched language until any of the teachers were at an arms distance. During our English Language class and surprisingly my favourite subject, our teacher announced we have a Poetry writing competition tomorrow, so we could prepare and come. The best entry will be awarded and published in the school magazine.
No prizes for guessing I was least bit interested in working after school be it anything. Having long back forgotten, as usual what I am supposed to do for the class tomorrow I went off to do what I did best then and still do: Sleep! Who dare say i aint consistent !!!! ;)
The next day in class all the eager beavers were ready with all that they had prepared (read pinched) from here and there or used their precious time on. I was only too happy to know that the entire class is going to be all the hoo-lah hoo and no lesson for the day.
One of the gals who hated me (actually there were more than a few who did) was bragging to whoever was interested in listening to her, that how she is going to win the Poetry competition and how her name will be published in the school news magazine. And then happened to what we know as the bollywood film style 'kahani main twist'. No ways someone gets away with snubbing me. I just had to make up something and the worse was how do i get my name in the coveted school magazine. I scrubbed and racked my brains and I have to earnestly admit the effort was twice fold to get to the bottom considering it wasn't put to good use for a good amount of time.
Oh how I hated cats and yet do. But somehow nothing rhymed better and there I was ready with a poem of mine. The first ever Poem I wrote: My Cat. The feeling I had then I am sure are the pangs of a woman giving childbirth proudly holding the newborn in her arms. For all my efforts my teacher had to say was alright 'keep it in the stack of papers on my desk"
So much for "My Cat''.. so what if I hate them!!
That was the first time and the last ( so I thought then) am i writing anything I swore to myself. Days were gone and turned into a week. One morning as I rushed in the class, late, Everyone clapped for me. Urrgh.. kids can be real cruel I tell you, I thought I was being mocked for doing something i aint supposed to which came so innately to me. My best buddy came and whispered in my year and I felt like smacking him one in his fat face. Good thought dwelled upon me and thank lord I did not. He said those three words which swept me off my feet.. Yes.. He said, You have won!! Oh good lord small mercies you have on me!!
The clapping and cheering could have continued for some more time now, only that it din't. What felt more satiating was not that I won but someone (the prude gal who hated me) finally had found her match in vanity.
I had won the first prize and an entry for the annual magazine. My head just kept singing I won.. I won. I won!
Coming back to reality it felt awarded for my efforts.. blah blah. Modesty for sure wasn't my forte.
Nevertheless, My teacher was so happy with the poem I wrote she sent it to the children's section of Times of India newspaper n surprises of surprises..One morning when I wake up my proud father beams I am in the newspaper. Gosh honestly I felt like a criminal then secretly praying none of what I am thinking is in the news!! I was only seven then!!
My Cat was published in the Education Times supplement of Times of India Newspaper. I received accolades from school teachers, friends and family. I even had a small fan following. The letters I have kept very carefully till date incase anyone ever wants to refute my claim to stardom ;)
Since then the writing bug bit me hard, more so because I loved the attention. I wrote a few more with the sole aim of getting them published. And publish they did. TOI even sent me a cheque of 35 rupees for my writing services which daddy has carefully kept. It is still not en -cashed and is like a prized possession.
I intend to pass it on as a heir loom to who so ever i deem worthy of it. It aint any less than an oscar for me!!
Soon thereafter the vanity vanished and i genuinely started enjoyed writing. The only and the drastic difference was I wrote only what were my deepest thoughts. Sharing them with anyone was out of question and there goes another great poetess buried (read happy and cozy) in her grave.
I have been writing poetry for friends who wanted to impress their lady love(s), flatter their bosses, limericks for kids you name it. All this I was alright to share with but not the real me.
Unlike the quintessential damsel, I wooed my knight in armour and now husband (after all the pursuing he better be) with my mushy love poems and letters.
It is only recent that all the encouragement and lots of patience, I think the tortoise of my writing has decided to come out of its shell and pop its head to say hello to the outside world. And yes we one helluva like it.
So here I am!!
For the reading pleasure : My first ever poem
My Cat
I had a cat
Who was very fat
All she did was sleep and sat
she couldn't even catch rat
She liked to play with the bat
and scratch the mat
She would chew up the ball
lazing in the hall
She liked to roll in the grass
and dirty my expensive brass
The cat then had kitten
But they were all bitten
Soon the kitten became cat
like their mother lazy and fat
Mercy.. I still hate cats but not 'My Cat'. She opened the door for me to the vivacious and versatile world of my imagination.
Meoooowrrrrrrr! Or shud I say Roarrrrrr since I too have grown up from being the cat to being a Lioness. Watch this space for more for now the Lioness in me :)
