A year and a half ago, my mother passed away. She was the closest thing to me – my biggest support system – and when she went, my entire world collapsed right in front of my eyes. I was a total mess. I didn’t know what to do, where to go, or who to talk to. I even started wondering why I was alive while she was gone. Suddenly, nothing made sense; every small thing scared me and every other thing made me sick. I was filled with rage that I could no longer contain within me. I was angry with everyone and everything – my father, my sister, my friends, my boss, myself, and most of all, God. He had no right to take the one person that mattered to me the most, away from me. I stopped socializing, meeting with friends and family, even started avoiding phone conversations with people. As if all this was not enough, I even stopped making my fortnightly trips to the supermarket because I did not want to talk to people.
While my father was worried that I was going into depression, I literally immersed myself into work. Every morning, I went to the office early and stretched beyond office hours in the evening. I told my boss and colleagues that I needed to complete my work and fulfill the extra responsibilities I had taken up. But the real reason was that I no longer felt like going home – a place that has my mother in every last particle. I just couldn’t take it!
But while all this was going on in my mind, there was one thing that was still holding me together; one thing that I could and can never let go – writing. If there was one small window through which I could vent out all my fears, anger, frustrations, and all other bad feelings, it opened through my notebook, which I now call my Treasure Trove.
The fact is that I couldn’t face my inner conundrum, the chaotic state my mind was in. So, I wrote. I wrote about everything – fact and fiction, truth and untruth, right and wrong, real and unreal. I wrote about me, about people, about places. I created characters and knitted them together into stories. I created whole new worlds and whole new universes. And while I was creating all these fictional elements and entities, I thought of God, the creator. Of how He must have felt when he created the universe. Of what must be going on in His mind while creating Us.
At that point in time, I realized just why they say, “God is everywhere!” It’s because everyone can be a creator in their own right. Human mind is a magical land with abundant bounty in the form of thoughts and ideas. To that end, there is absolutely no limit to what a human mind can imagine, comprehend, and create. And to me, writing became the panacea that healed my soul. It helped me, slowly and gradually, be myself again. I can never forget my mother. But now, I don’t become sad when I remember her. That’s what this old, call it hobby, habit or flair, did for me. It pulled me together, made me whole again.
I have had the habit of writing down my mind since I was in high school. It has always been a part of my daily routine so I never paid it much heed. I don’t have a private diary per se, but the other day when I took the time to look at all the notebooks I have filled through the years, I just couldn’t believe myself.
But it was during the last one and the half year that I wrote most in my entire life. I wrote every time I found time from my busy office schedule. And every time I wrote something, I wanted to write more. In everyone’s life, there comes a point when they realize what they want, where they want to go. That moment had finally arrived for me. I knew exactly what I wanted – to write – and obviously, that was what I was going to do. Now was the time to make a major decision in life. The very next day, I spoke to my father about my decision and when he supported me too, I quit my job. Now, I am freely pursuing my passion with the only aim to make my readers happy. I know that if I do something that makes me happy, then it can make others happy too. So, keep dreaming and don’t ever be scared to follow your dreams!