I guess I have always known that I wanted to be a writer.
Or a creative person, in general.
If you ask my parents, they’d probably tell you the same thing. ‘She was restless as a child. She was curious. She always wanted to learn new things.’ They’d tell you all about it. I guess, eventually, their love and support are the reasons I am comfortably able to follow my passion today. I understand that not many get the chance to do so, and I hope that people come to the conclusion that the way they live their lives does not dictate the way their children should. In fact, there is no ‘should’. Children don’t have to adopt their parents’ way of thinking. Ideals? Sure. But one should always be capable of thinking for oneself. and not ‘What would people say?’
Because, honestly? Who cares.
At the end of the day, no matter how much one tries to people-please their way ahead in life, there will inevitably come a moment or two when people are not pleased. There’s no way out of the spiral that follows when that happens. My solution? Simply do what you want to. Of course, as long as it is within moral limits, of course. I shouldn’t have to mention that.
Okay, I’ll stop rambling and tell you what today’s poem is about. The prompt for day 2 via napowrimo.net is to write a poem recollecting a memory from your childhood that shaped you into the person you are today.
Without further yapping, here’s the poem!
Tucked away in a crevice of my mind
Lies a memory I only know of
From the stories I’ve been told:
Of a rather outspoken child,
Barely three years old.
So the story goes,
The child was told
To name a hundred colours
In return for a doll–
Challenge accepted,
She listed all the colours she knew,
Starting with red,
But how could a child name a hundred colours
She hadn’t even learned existed?
That never stopped her, not that it could,
She followed up ‘red’ with ‘a darker red’,
And then continued,
‘A red darker than that, and one darker still’,
Until there were ten shades of red,
And then she started with green.
And then pink.
And then blue.
And when all was said and done,
There were ten colours, and ninety hues–
And no fault in logic, for there was none.
To this day, I tell myself I am her.
The child who would find a way,
If only for a doll, even so,
Where there’s will, it finds a way,
I am the same little girl,
Just at twenty-eight years old.
~ⓒ Shubhangi Srinivasan.
This is probably one of my favourite stories I’ve heard about myself from my childhood. Of course I don’t remember it because I was way too young back then. But the sheer audacity I had as a child has definitely followed me well into adulthood. And whether anyone else appreciates that about me or not, I know that I do. I know this has always been the kind of person I am because I have told myself, ‘I can do that’, instead of listing reasons I cannot.
Maybe writing this poem was just another reminder to myself. I nearly broke down in tears by the time I reached the end of it. But I owe it to myself.
Where there’s will, there will always be a way.
See you tomorrow with another poem?
Cheerio! Xx
Hey, guys! Long time no see.
If you liked my poem, I would love to hear from you and know what you think. Comments and shares are always appreciated. You can also reach out to me on my Instagram page here if you want to keep up with my shenanigans!
See ya!
Featured Image by Alexander Grey on Unsplash
The Shubhster Diaries 
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