The Beauty In Struggle
In tough times, one may discover a hidden piece, a lifeblood that nurtures the soul and makes us who we are.
My eyes lit up as I spoke of my writing, my inspirations and the effect I want to have on my dear readers — all the while pacing under the canopied bridge. I was talking to a friend living a thousand miles away, who, by the way, I haven’t even met yet.
My arms flew as I explained how I conceive a topic to write. The guards at my workplace watched on with curious eyes, as I gave an impromptu performance, one arm flailing and the other holding a phone.
My friend spoke of how she came to be an artist and I was transported to her world as she narrated her life. In a few minutes, we travelled to her past, across nations and jobs, finally reaching on the call we were having.
Little did I know, that I would hold this call very close to my heart. (I am writing this within an hour of talking to her — for reference). We spoke of the things we loved the most — she on illustrating and me on writing. The energy on the phone call was just electric.
I realized how differently we experience the same world. It was fascinating. An exciting hour of conversation later, we promised on an exciting collaboration.
I went to the loo (this detail is important) and was replaying conversation from five minutes before. I don't know why that happened. But it did.
I remember saying — I so badly want my work published in the newspaper and I know someone who will get me there for sure but the timing is just not right. In better circumstances, I would be published by now
I wondered why I said it. That’s when I noticed, my heart was beating rapidly — like the excitement you get when you win a prize, like the happiness when a baby kisses you, like how the heart pulsates to the beat of one’s favourite song.
I remembered how my eyes lit up in the middle of a ordinary afternoon, creating scenarios into existence as I explained my writing process.
Would I have discovered this delightful side of mine, if I was getting published and not just yearning for it?
“There is no story without struggle”, My mom says.
I have been fortunate, I got published as a child. I have good readers in both my family and friends. I have a head bubbling with creative characters, stories and punchlines. I have no reason to fret.
I wondered if my friend and I would laugh about this conversation in 30 years. In homes we own, with a lifestyle that comes with success, and with family chatting away in the background.
“We were such babies then!”, we would reminisce. Maybe with silvers in our hair and a legacy in our fields.
But till then, we would struggle and create beautiful stories.
