Saturday 14 September 2013

Middle School Love

My fondest childhood memories revolve around middle / high school, where I made friends for life and found love.

Yes, love. Undying and pure. Love for the English language and everything wonderful associated with it. News, diary, book reviews, ERCs! What initially seemed to be a silly homework ritual gradually took over my life. I fell in love with the language; I fell in love with writing. I had found my space.

I would eagerly await your comments on the assignments I submitted to you. To me, it meant the world when you had a few nice words to say about my efforts. Rani Ma’m, do you know, I still have a midterm test note book from class VI? It was a test that I almost scored a centum on in English!!! What I hold dear to my heart is the page long comment you had written along with it.  

I felt that same rush of emotion when I saw your comment on my blog a few weeks back. That is what prompted me to write this post.

During my engineering days, I decided to run the mad, mad GRE rat race like all my batch mates, knowing fully well that I was never cut out for an MS. Looking back at it now,  I don’t regret it one bit. Only because I loved learning the word list of Baron’s cover to cover!

Till today, I write. Helluva lot! (Please excuse the slang J )I write when I am elated and oh, I definitely write when I am sad / angry. I document my travel, I write about issues that make me think. I write on paper, I write on my phone, computer, a tablet, I write in my head, just about anywhere. I write them long, short, as poetry, just about anything. Writing is what helps me maintain some semblance of sanity when things go awry. It gives my life invaluable perspective. Don’t judge me by the number of entries on my blog. I consciously choose not to publish everything that I write J    

So today, it is only befitting to thank you for making me fall in love. Fall in love with everything nice – books, ink pens, reading and writing. Thank you for gently nudging me into developing opinions and supporting me to voice them in a manner that is acceptable socially. Thank you for inspiring me and instilling that sense of awe for the language.

People say my newborn daughter looks nothing like me. But I sure do hope that she has inherited this love. For, she will not be fortunate enough to study under a person as wonderful as you.