The answer to the eager question often asked by the readers...

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#BlogPost-17
What prompts you to write, how do u manage to think so deeply? Sheel Sindhu

The question I am encountered with so many times and for my loving friends and my well-wishers who support me with altruism, this write-up is for them.

“How do you write?”, you ask.

“I observe “, I replied.

I watch the life in trees, their laughter when they swing in the air, their sorrows when they are about to perish and try to figure out the dialogue of the collapsing leaves. You see the yellow leaves I hear the allusion in their sibilance.

You view the flight of a butterfly and I count the colours on its wings, you chase it and I sit backand watch it dancing in the sky.

The kids playing in the field, you watch the black n blue mark on their bodies and their toiled clothes I watch the broad smiles on their face and a thousands of dreams which they anticipate to come true someday.

That teenage girl sobbing in the corner of the library. You see her tears I see a thousand words surrounding her along with pain , despair, discomfort , grief in her eyes.

You see the couples holding hands along the beach I see assurance, commitment and the promises in their footprints they leave on the moist sand.

A man sipping coffee and humming a tune in the corner of a cafe. You see tranquillity I see a scribbled story on his mind with every gulp he takes.

You see a girl dancing in the rain I see her expressing a thousand pieces of her untold story with every move she makes.

You see the crowd on the busy streets I see anxious, hungry, thirsty faces struggling with their lives some to chase their dreams, some to find answers to their unanswered questions.

You see the muddy shoes of his dad I see desperation in his eyes to keep his family protected from the venomous world.

The first rain in the fields of the farmer. You see his laughter, I see his satisfaction, his contentment that finally his prayers are heard from the almighty.

The ice-cream vendor running in the noon with his cart. You see his sweat,his shirt drenched in with sweat. I see the hunger inside him to earn a little more so that he can buy a new pair of shoes for his child and replace the old n worn out one while going home today.

That old lady standing on the street. You see the wrinkles developed on her skin

The children begging in the trains. You either mock at their condition or try to disperse them away from your sight, I see the pain , the sufferings and the hard life they try to make better with each days rising sun.

How do I write? You say

You read their faces and I try to study their life through their minds...