Caption: Google Images.
I was barely 6 years old when I started reading ghazals from my mother’s collection of proses. It used to be in Urdu. I love that language. The beauty of rhyming words and ability to express the human beings raw and real emotions in beautiful verses caught my attention.
I remember mugging up my favourite poems by heart without a single word here and there. I even used to recite them from time to time infront of people whenever they would ask me to do. I was extremely shy back then, but when it comes to performing, I was always ready.
I was 10 when I wrote my very first poem for my late grandmother. I realised that I could express my feelings better on a piece of paper than ever in person. Since then I started scribbling every damn thought that would cross my mind even the silliest ones in my diary.
There was a phase in my life where I didn’t write anything for 2 years except for my school projects. I would just read lot of books. But as they say old habit die hard. I again started writing poems. I write poems for myself. I’m very selfish when it comes to writing. I can never write it for people or for something I don’t want to write about.
Although, I feel happy when people tell me that they find solace in my write ups. When they say that they could resonate deep with my words. That I have touched their soul by penning down my own emotions. I remember once a girl telling me that when she was going through a hard time in her life, my poetry rescued her from falling into dark.
Poetry is a very intimate process for me and it has helped me to overcome my worse days. I don’t write, I bleed words.
