Travel stories are better confined to heart. The only heart is blessed with the ability to comprehend the gravity of emotional oceans to which the traveller is rendered. I have my story written in gold on the silver alley beautified with flowers of the diamond. These pearls shine through my words. They reside inside my heart and crown my head. Rewiring the life which I have been endorsing since my birth, I have, by now, hundreds of stories buried deep within my heart. Some of them are still untold. They have altogether crafted me. They make my journey worthwhile. I have my travel story starting from me and ending at me. I have travelled from east to west and from snow-capped mountains to sand dunes. Their strings are connected, and so is the present version of me with them. The coy, timid and sensitive girl who I used to be is still visible in front of my mirror. Words have strengthened her. The ink has made her more beautiful. The girl who started this journey has transformed into a brave bibliophile. The girl who could bear the burdens of the whole world has traversed a number of paths before reaching the juncture where the people now see her smiling. Driven by all the luxuries and love, she used to help everyone. During past few years, I saw the girl loosing her charisma and entering into the labyrinths of emptiness. The society made her rude. The ignorance of the people whom she loved rendered her all alone in the mists of dejection. Keeping in mind the saying that everything happens for a reason she then saw the things changing and recovering. What she today is just a trance of the damsel which she used to be in her formative years. Now she again started smiling. She laughs, she lives, and she loves. Again all prepared to vanish gloom out from the whole world, and she inspires the people. She is a constant source of motivation. The scars of the past no longer scare her. She has learnt the great lessons of life. She has understood LIFE. Her story is yet to be eternal. Her story is yet to be unleashed. The journey which she is destined to embellish has just started. That girl is me. Lot more curtains are yet to be removed. My journey is nothing less than a toy tale embellished with stories craved out by herself.
As my night lightened into the beautiful morning, I thought, reading the overcast yellow sky, how much pristine I have become after drowning in the world of books. To borrow phrases from vernaculars, to dissolve in the beauty of protagonists, to feel myself moving with characters in the novel, to break into catastrophic sobs, to hear myself smiling, I have transcended a long path, and I am going to travel it till eternity. As my eyes search for sparks, I thought, inhaling the winter air, how much l had treasured my solitude. To lie at my backs and stare at the stars, to chase dreams across the horizon, to raise octaves, to touch God within myself, I have become a writer, and I am going to make this world so much beautiful through my writings.
A number of stories are stuck in my soul, a number of characters are playing with me to be crafted on paper, and a number of plots are running in my mind. You won't be able to feel this feeling until you become a writer like me. Only a writer like me can understand the pleasure of synthesising a tale, the ecstasy of putting words into phrases and putting phrases into sentences. You will see me flying with feathers one day. The feathers which I have earned working with words, dancing with words and singing with words. For they are no longer only syllables, they have become an essence of me and my dreams. Nebulous mists of time beautify my journey with shades of gloominess. Little do they know how much I love bathing in dejection and accepting it as a part of my travel tale. I know eternity is waiting for me with a longing for the answers which I am searching here. The questions are stuck in my soul, and their answers lie in my veins. Ecstasy is within my grasp. I inhale its beauty in every saccharine mixed breath. I raise the octaves of love within my heart. I let it embark on a journey of earth-shattering love. For the sake of the words which adorn my soul, I keep walking. Seasons of love are evident of this journey of mine. A number of phases have come and gone. Some of them brought pain while others lasted for the minuscule gulf of a few days to realise anything. They taught me how to write with a depth of feeling and a tenderness rarely seen. My fate is written at the square where roads to library bisect. This place is heaven for me. I have travelled miles standing there. Being a pedestrian at the roads of glory I have seen myself growing there.