Ink, ideas and stories..

                                              

 Ideas are like butterflies, they beautify your garden of mind.  Inspired and motivated to write something, I was on a mission to write a book and like most beginners was on an idea hunt. I had to do pondering, planning, reading and good God what not to start my journey of words to come out with a story. But then it stuck me. Sometimes reading helps a great deal but you know the things that come across and the experience you get have no substitute.

 You happen to go through a charade of things, numerous big and little incidences and off course the people and their reaction to your feelings and emotions makes your story. The story that is close to your heart, the story that anyone can read but very few can feel.  Sometimes you look at the ceiling fan and think why on earth you have to go through this or sometimes your pillow fabric makes you realize that it is the only element on the face of earth that can soak your sorrows.  Life is not always about sunflowers and penguins. Sometimes it’s like hanging around in your loose pajamas and tees whole day long and plan and work. Plan…God knows what? And work oh! That’s fulfilling (provided you aren’t lazy). But somewhere deep down in your heart you know where your life is taking you to and where you need to go. You have kicked some ass and at the same time you know you have screwed at things. Stories generate that way. The loss,the indifference of emotions, the changes, the memories, every drop of tear, the curve of lips, the happiness in heart, the genuine care, dawn and dusk, the pattern of sunlight and the constellation of stars all of them say a story. This story is of the world in your skull and four chambers of your heart..