Two years and 69 poems later, I have in my hand, a creation that can at best be called my flow of thoughts in the form of stories penned over this period.
A year back, they were published and though I keep writing poetry and publishing it too (I started when I was ten years old); this particular volume is special for so many reasons.
They reflect my cryptic musings, they mirror my increasing simplistic and a tad cynical approach towards life and are forming me into the person I am today, at 43.
Writing is satisfying. It has nothing to do with money. Nothing at all with impressing people. If at all, perhaps, what matters to me is when people say kind words about it. That’s all.
Thank you to all those who are buying my book; to all the ones who validated my self belief and to all the ones who are special in my life; some of those relationships have no names. I never believed in labels!
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