Books and Related Stuff, My Published Works, Short Essays

A World Introduced By Kabuliwala

(The below article is an English translation of my writing which got published in The Hindu (Tamil) on 06/06/2016. To read the original article, go here: காபுலிவாலா தந்த உலகம் )

I was never strapped to a bed for a long time of twenty days before, not in that way. My parents had feared that I was down with malaria and I was stay put to a bed with a warning that I should not exert myself more physically. Although my arms were numb with tiredness and body with ache, my mind remained as free as always. The oppressive boredom of the loneliness caused by my fever made me to notice the sprawling presence of books on the shelves of my room. I had always looked at them before, even cleaned and dusted them off regularly. But, for the first time, I had time to notice them. I pulled open a book with a majestic spine which had a calm peaceful face of a man with a beard, and when I finished reading it, I had tears rolling down my eyes. The book is ‘Selected Short Stories of Rabindranath Tagore’, and the story I read that day was ‘Kabuliwala’.  I don’t know what caused me the long fever but I remember that the bug of reading had infected me from then on. I was fourteen only, then.

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First Patters of Rain

There are times in our life where we stop. Take a pause. To look up. To feel the ability which reckons as an astute energy inside waiting in all eagerness to explode in its own way in the form of Work, Creation. As the dark clouds pregnant with heavy monsoon, my mind filled with a plethora of ideas awaits to downpour all the shapeless thoughts into the magical structures called Words.

The best way to romance with life is to constantly risk oneself into new ventures, small or big, and to create something with the assurance of justifying our own existence. By resorting to pen down, I am venturing to take refuge in creativity besides myself. This first venture of mine into the territory of writing might appear short in its vision or could grow naive in its ambition. Yet, it will always remain precious as the experience of the first love; the birth of the first child; the feel of the first kiss; the sound of the first patters of rain. The ray of hope still brightens my morning sky and brings me the belief that I would delight you with my might.

With all your love.