I recently discovered a new house, 'my write house', located at the outskirt of a busy township. The surrounding strip of semi-forest still preserved the serenity of my 'write house'.
The discovery was indeed an accident, but I could guess it was an accident of good fortune. How long I yearned to find a place where I could feel myself at home. 'The write house' gave me that shelter, the comfort, the freedom and the space.
My journey into the write house took me to the deepest part of the house - were I took an year to reach an old, but new closet. The freshness of it appealed to me, so is the familiarity I had with the closet. I opened it only to find a secret compartment under the closet. I had to take a little pain to open the secret compartment, but it yielded - where I discovered one of the most cherished treasure that I will or might value for life - A diary, an old, well-used purple coloured diary - not just an ordinary diary - but the diary of a writer, the Writer. This column will follow in sharing the writings from the pages of this Writer. I certainly enjoyed it - hope you will too..
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