One day in the last 10 years…
“You are not meant for teaching.”
“Why?”
“Managing two kids at a time makes you go mad. Imagine managing 40. Don’t overthink.”
Another day in the last 10 years…
“Many have told me I would have become a good lawyer and that I chose the wrong profession. But after reading this book, I realised I wouldn’t have been one. I am too truthful to be a lawyer.”
“Who said lawyers lie? And yes, you would have been good academically, but the actual practice might have been tough.”
Very recently in the last 10 years…
“I should do something else. I don’t like what I’m doing.”
“Here you are again. I have told you several times you have great potential. But you only complain.”
“You have never said I’m good at whatever I brought to you.”
“But you are good at creativity. This is not the first time I’m telling you this. You never considered it. You sing well, you create art, and you know how good you are at writing. Why can’t you try that as a profession? Who knows, you could become like one of your favourite authors. Strangely enough, we even moved closer to the home where he lived.”
“Yeah, that’s right. But I’m not getting time with work…”
“You’re complaining again. Why can’t you just write a line every day and take even 50 days to complete? Who’s going to ask? Just write. You can even use AI to create a video of your writing, a comic and what not. You just have to start.”
“Yeah… but… okay, I’ll try.”
Today.
As I was sitting at my office desk, looking outside the large glass window at the campus stretched in front of me, at the movement of people, I was ruminating on all these conversations I had with my husband.
Then I came across this prompt, “The Butterfly Effect,” in a writing group as I scrolled through my phone during coffee time. “Oh! What group is this and when did I join?” I wondered. Slowly, the memories of the past few months unwound.
I went back to the desk, cleared a few mails, and finished a few calls. Then again, I looked out the window at the campus. There was no one. Only some plants gently swaying in the breeze.
“What do I write on this topic?” I asked myself as I kept watching the plants.
“A crime thriller about how a protagonist becomes a murderer because they missed a bus? Or how a woman lands her dream job after an accident? Maybe someone who travels through time and… and then what?” My thoughts kept spinning. The plants kept swaying. Sometimes gently, sometimes a little wildly, depending on the wind.
“Why don’t I just write down these thoughts and figure it out?” The plants continued swaying.
The plants had nothing to do with this write-up. They did not inspire me. They simply danced in the wind while I pieced together a story from all the conversations and moments that surfaced in my mind. But, unexpectedly, it became a plot.
Sometimes, the smallest moment or a random thought becomes an inspiration, like how mine led me to write today. No action goes waste. Daydreaming can shape your life too. Look at me—whether anyone says it or not—I’m a writer now. Meanwhile, the plants were still gently swaying outside, as if they were the ones who started this whole chain of inspiration.
