i love paper. i love writing on paper and hearing the scraping of my pen nib on the smooth surface. i love the smell of fresh wrought paper and the strong smell of black ink. when i was a kid i used to rub the paper on my cheek n smile

so no wonder iv taken to blogging so late

what do you think of when you write with an ink pen? do you feel like shakespeare in his tiny dingy room with a pitcher of beer and a loaf of dinner? writing beautiful sonnets for the entire world to fall over themselves over for decades and decades to come? that’s what i feel like when i write and that’s y i love to write

my mom has a framed piece of paper which she holds dearer than anything else – its a tiny lil 8 lined verse i wrote when i was in second grade for her – u kno the kind, we’ve all written those rhyming lil poems which eulogize mommy n say what an angel she is

hmmm.. this scent of english tea im getting rite now has to be one of the most established childhood memories of mine
grampa drinks tea several times a day n it invariably invokes memories of days hanging upside down on trees, sneakin up to the snack jar and gettin caught, cookies and milk, mario tv games, lock and key games every evening and hot hot idli sambar

well iv spent much of these 20 years travellin n iv got written travelogues for most trips – [several in misspelt childish story telling scripts ] and this time my friends wont take NO for an answer so im gonna blog it all i hope u like it too!

cheerio all!!