A Journey Brewed with Stories
One of my deepest interests is reading stories. I especially love those that travel across borders through translations of world cultures.
Sometimes I imagine myself with a small knapsack of essentials and a spare pair of shoes, setting out on an incredible journey of self-discovery. Each book becomes a wonder-filled snapshot of my day.
On such a journey, I would gladly leave the meetings of life in the hands of fate and keep walking. What flavours might I encounter? An intriguing question. A pleasant surprise.
Through books, I have roamed across countless landscapes. I have lost myself, and found myself again, in the similarities and diversities of the human world.
For me, one of the most humanising efforts is to gather these stories and bring them into my little cubicle of life. That is how I learn tolerance and acceptance of varied viewpoints.
What You’ll Find Here
This space is a little bookshelf of its own, with three kinds of offerings:
- Stories | Folklore retold, fairy tales reimagined, and a few made-up tales of my own.
- Reviews | Reflections on books, plays, series, theatre, and even the occasional TV show.
- Chai-Conversations | Lighthearted musings, brewed slowly like a good cup of tea.
Together, they form the rhythm of this site—sometimes thoughtful, sometimes playful, always steeped in a love for words.
My Tryst with Books
My affair with books began in childhood. At first, I read comics and listened to bigger stories read aloud. Words were companions, but not yet mine to claim.
Then came a turning point. I was detained in third grade for not meeting the passing mark. My classmates moved ahead. I stayed behind. It hurt. To ease the sting of failure, I reached for books. They opened their arms and let me in.
From that moment, I read with abandon. Comics, chapter books, sleuth novels—anything I could find. By seventh grade, I had stumbled into Britain’s classics, though whether I understood them or not is a different story altogether.
I never liked to stop for a dictionary. Instead, I let context teach me. Slowly, the vocabulary trickled in, and my understanding deepened. One day, without warning, the words I read turned into words I wanted to write. That was when the portal opened. And I walked through, guided by imagination.
Words’ World of Expanding Imagination
As the years passed, words became more than ink on a page. They were doors. I stepped through them into places I had never seen, yet somehow knew.
A simple sentence could bloom into an entire landscape. A description of rain would trickle into my senses; a single glance from a character could stay with me for days. Stories always asked for more than reading—they asked for imagination. And imagination was eager to answer.
I had no certificates to prove this kind of learning. No exams to sit for. Only discoveries. Each book taught me something beyond its plot: patience, empathy, the art of listening to silence between lines.
Whether in books, voices on tape, or stories brought alive on a stage, words kept sparkling. They drifted slowly down, like fireflies, until I gathered them in my arms.
And as I held them, I realised: I didn’t just live with stories. I lived through them.
An Invitation
Explore the site. See what resonates with you.
I wish you a comforting browsing experience.
And I hope you’ll return, again and again.
✨ Credit: Polished with Mira (AI-powered ChatGPT)
Itinerant Storyteller 