‘How often do you write?’, She asked me. I didn’t write much, but I wanted to write. I felt inferior about writing. Somewhere within I was also scared of criticisms. It took me three years to accept the fact that I can write, may be not excellently but at least I can pour my feelings properly.

Then she suggested me to start reading as many good books as possible. She was correct. The day I opened the gateway to good books, sentences started paving its way towards me.

Still hiding behind a beautiful wooden carved window, “Ankhijyal”,  I aspire to be a writer.

Wish me luck 🙂