Words of a Storyteller

Words. The term that comes to mind as I write down my random thoughts today. Words flow. In fact, I’m surrounded by them at all times. Even in silence I hear and see them. And at times I even taste them. Don't believe me? Well let me show you with an example-

The spicy chicken stew smelt good. It was piping hot. Just the dish to warm up a frozen heart on a cold wintry evening. I knew what all had gone into it: Boiled potatoes, fresh boneless chicken chunks, a couple of carrots, some  celery sticks,broccoli flowers, baby mushrooms and paprika in milk and cream- based broth. I could even smell the spices used for seasoning and accentuating its flavour: cinnamon sticks, black pepper, chopped spring onions, garlic and ginger; sautéed in butter. And finally garnished with green dill and finely chopped fresh red chillies. It looked delectable. I was famished. I brought out my favourite Japanese wooden soup bowls and poured myself and my friend some with the wooden ladle.  Mmm... it sure tasted heavenly!

See what I mean? Of course, I've written or described the preparation of the dish in the simplest of manners. If I were to work on it a little more, many of you - foodies out there would head towards your kitchen. No?

Like the above, for everything I feel, think or see; my words convey it to me before I further proclaim it to the world.   At times, I've to struggle to deliver them exactly as they come to me. But I guess that's how it is with all of us! Sometimes we cannot say and at others we don't want to. The world may not accept these honest and simple - minded nude fellas as our hearts do. So we- humans have learned to dress them up. Give a superficial face - liftto most things that we want to speak about.  .


Anyway, for me when things are tough, some of these well - meaning companions heal me. They whisper in their simple language to not give up. They cajole and nudge me to keep walking. Make me forget the falls. Teach me new meanings. Over the years I’ve collected quite a few of them. They are a part of my treasury. My diamonds.  I show them off once in a while in my writings. At an appropriate instance. My constant engagement with them makes me what I am: An impressionist. Also an expressionist. But most of all they help me tell stories. Good ones – I believe.