Humble Beginnings in a Quirky Town

My blogging sojourn begins with the story of my early-life. It all started in the gateway of God’s own Country (Trishur), a place for which I still hold a remote affinity. Call it the luck of circumstances, our family moved to the Nilgiris in South India, to the Coonoor of the Western Ghats.

The Town has little to endear to people of a tender age. Tender age yes but I wasn’t tender to many eyes, including myself. My parents and relatives (not all of the latter) might have held a different view, but I knew the fifteen year old me was lacking in many ways. To state it point blank, I was the most rugged of kids in my pre-youth days, gallons away from the prescribed maturity quotient. My passion or interest (if any) was restricted to comfy television shows, regular regional flicks, and games that weren’t adventurous by any means (Super Mario, anyone?). This crappy kid loved any place away from Coonoor for reasons unknown. Perhaps immaturity, sluggishness, and unwarranted derision needs no reason.

Time has its unique and unquestionable ways, and its vagaries helped me change my perspective of this tea-town. I came to realise that this place is endowed with quirkiness; of innocence (the part I love) and unparalleled hospitality and kindness; and also of gossips and envy and pride and all those negatives put-together. It has made me flock to people who are a class apart in terms of hospitality and kindness and ignore the rest (who are also scattered around this place) with ease. It introduced me to some of the most poignant writers, who are also kind-hearted and generous in a way that exceeded my expectations (a story for another day).

Irrespective of my childhood (I wasn’t the first of my kind, by the way), I was born to an artist Mom who is very endearing and quirky (like her little son), in her demeanor; to a dad who raised me up with a lot of care and emotion that ceaselessly persists till this day; and to a Dance School in Coonoor that has now turned out be the epicenter of my life in this verdant town (more on that later).

Time has a way of evolving things. The child in me started finding its path, gradually, in a pace that could make the frontrunners smirk at you. But it hardly matters when you are running your own race, with the love and blessings of the Master up above. He has led me all the way up from nowhere, and the oh-so-timid me with mood-swings and thought-swings hardly realise it most times.

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