It all started with this one small wish of mine, wanting to sit on that inviting chair, ‘The Chair’ in the garden and day dream. In my dream came knocking a sleepy town in the south of France where all doors were closed. I called the town, the town of ‘Closed Doors’. I kept peeping through each door to see a little more. In that state of reverie Trisha and her ‘Filter Coffee’ spilled all over my mind. And now they want to hear the story till the end! But where is the end and how far from my reach I wonder. Trisha was travelling alone and on a magical sun-set evening in a serene beach side cafe, she had met an attentive and interesting man.Yes, their friendship happened very naturally, without any effort, and they also exchanged numbers with the intention of catching up some day somewhere. It was not a “you are my latte” kind of friendship ! Coffee lovers can vouch that competing with coffee love is not too easy. Trisha must have reached back home by now and tucked away the memory of that warm evening in her magic box neatly tied with a silver ribbon. Unlike Trisha I don’t  travel alone, I travel with my people, with my words, and most of all with my readers.

Words turned into sentences and sentences into paragraphs and slowly my mind started waking up and giving each line a meaning, an image, a picture , almost like a reel. The words within became a reality more real than the one around. 

I borrowed the book for two nights and days. I knew I couldn’t finish reading it in that time. I read slow, as slow as a tortoise peeping out of its shell ! The book was a thriller and I left the story unfinished. Every story that I start does not reach its end. I learn to live with the unfinished tales of life. I learn that every sun set does not become a poem or every lark flying is not completely free. I returned home with an unfinished book on my mind and an unquenchable thirst for more and more words. A good friend came to rescue, she suggested that I dive into the  world of “The Heart Asks Pleasure First”. And yes I am now slowly drowning my senses into…heart asks pleasure first !

Words chase me no matter where I go, or is it the other way round- I keep chasing words no matter where I go. So here I was in a hotel lobby taking in its interesting decor when I saw the bookshelf. An open bookshelf, leaning against a pillar,  almost hidden from view, standing silently extending a wordless welcome to the curious travellers. I approached it tenderly, scared to ruffle the sleeping pages of the books within. My fingers ran gently over the ribs of the books till they touched “I’M TRAVELLING ALONE”. I gingerly took the book in my hand and started reading.