Why a writer...

"What do you want to become when you grow up?", they asked. " An astronaut", the little girl replied, without the slightest hint of doubt. The moon and the stars had always amazed her. The working of the universe, its beginning, was an enigma she wanted to solve. 

She would drown herself in books, those of every kind and burrow through the huge pile in no time. Books about stars, books about planets, Grandma's moral stories, books on art and ' 100 things you can make at home' , Sherlock Holmes and Harry Potter, she loved them all. They were her best friends who had taught her a great deal. But, she owed it all to her mum and dad who had taught her to read. Her love for stories had ensued from the bedtime stories her mom used to make up, spontaneously while tucking her in bed. Her love for reading, came from her dad whom she had seen devouring his fat books.

Whenever she read a book, her brain buzzed with ideas. Inventions and Aliens, Time Travel and Artificial Intelligence seemed to have bought a house in her head. And every time they left for a walk or late night dinners with photons and quarks, they always forgot to switch the lights off, making sure that she didn't forget them for a jiffy.

As she grew up, the world bewildered her even more. She realised that every person has a story and she loved to get to know it. The world was a beautiful place but its beauty had gone unnoticed by many. The beauty of the human race and the joy of being together had begun to dwindle. The stars looked further away and her dreams were slipping from her grasp, like sand does from your fingers. The world needed a different point of view. Humans needed to know how beautiful their home was and how much life mattered. And she would do so. There were so many who knew this already. But, she felt that their voices were subdued under the selfishness of others. She couldn't do nothing for this now could she? She was a reader, who had the power of words. She was an astronaut who knew just how magnificent this universe was.

Her dream of reaching the stars stopped slipping away. In fact, like Mr. Time Travel, it seemed to like keeping her determined as well. She promised herself she would make her dream come true. But her dream had become much more than exploring space or enabling the survival of life on moon. Her dream now had become much much less selfish. She wanted to share these experiences with everybody. She wanted them perceive all that they had missed. 

"What do you want to be when you grow up?", they asked again. "An astronaut", she replied. She paused and took a deep breath. " An Astronaut who writes, an Astronaut who is a writer.", she said.

"Why a writer", they asked. " Because I want people to see the world from the stars. I want them to see the world once, from my eyes."