A Writer

Once when I was nine years old, my father asked me , “Child ! When you grow up, what do you want to be ?

Proudly I announced, A writer .  He gave a small laugh and joyously approved of my descision.

Then when I was nineteen years old, after my graduation ceremony he asked me again, Child ! Now that you’ve grown up, what do you want to be ?

Timidly I replied, A writer . His faith from my adolscence was now replaced by shackling worries. He scowled at me and asked if I had written any promising stories.”Reverting with my own perplexed brows I wondered why do I need to write a story to be a writer”.

I too wasn’t really sure what exactly it meant to be a writer for I believed,”Everyone is a writer as long as they choose their own story or at least the ink of it.”

With time my father grew impatient troubling himself in search of answers to my life ‘s questions.I couldn’t ever empathise with him for I saw the futility in such an attempt.

So as I embarked upon my journey to write my life’s only and finest work, I left him my first chapter to the book.

Dear father,

As I leave to create a new story, its only natural to give my acknowledgements to those who’ve been instrumental in helping me learn a language that is better understood by this world.Albeit being a language I shall unlearn , it still still was necessary to get me at this junction. It’ll be indeed tiring and challenging but it’s important for the learned men do not speak our language who alone know the worthy truth.

My story shall be called Life ,yes I will write about very imperfect truth that humans are doomed to live.

Its of course yet impossible to acquaint you with the plot of it but surely it will entail every suffering , failure and victory that my characters achieve as they challenge the all mighty Providence.

Each page will rekindle the faith of those men who wish to free themselves of their invisibles chains that are seen as only nature by our hypocritical society.

Contrary to the writings you’ve read my story will not decide the fate of its characters but in fact the opposite .

The story will be about a man who’s circled with chaos all his life for he hungry for the truth and refuses to give into the illusions forced upon him by his counterparts and even though he may not know if he’ll ever succeed but I believe the struggle in itself worth mentioning.

You once prophecisd that if he continues on this path for long it’ll either end with his death or a life of renouncement. I hope it doesn’t come to that , for he should know to be really free is to also not give into death before it chooses you or to hide in a cave with a mask of enlightenment.
He will be just another social animal and yet had learnt that language that can only be heard by those who hear with their hearts and listen to the sacred music that can never be created again.

I hope that as a writer my acknowledgement is the only faulty piece I ever write and that it alone contains the words crushed under justifications and obligations.

A book where its own words are free of slavery to its own writer, is the kind I wish to write.

In hope of words that are intelligible to my soul.

I take your leave 

Your child .



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