As my pen moves across the ordinary ruled sheets of my spiral notebook, my mind drifts back to the golden period of my life that made me believe in the beauty of miracles and strengthened my belief in the power of words. As a tiny tot I used to be in awe of the charm that the world of fairytales offered but unlike most of the other kids of my age I had never allowed myself to be lost in the enthralling accounts of the lives of the supernatural. Having grown up in a mansion where the library constituted of half the square feet of the house it will not be wrong in case I am labelled as a bookworm that I am. Even my room is occupied by books and huge windows open up my room to the beauty of nature that guides me through the process of writing and acts as fuel for my imagination. The prime reason of the establishment of the library was the passion that my father had as an author for books or any written medium of expression. He used to tell me quite often that words define us and mould our life. They open up the windows to our imagination and the day we learn the art of expression, we create a magical world of words for ourselves where nothing is within ordinary realms and nothing is impossible. I did not believe in a higher power but believed in myself. In spite of being a cripple my parents never made me feel so. I have been taught and mentally prepared to take charge of myself and my life but I am emotionally dependant on my parents who are my biggest strength as well as weakness. I also picked up the habit of writing from him and writing along with reading had become an inseparable part of life. I could let go of my crutches that were the only reason of my dismay, whenever I took flight in the world of words. The pea in the peapod used to be my all time favourite storybook and whenever father used to go for attending seminars and promotion of his latest piece of works, I used to keep the book beneath my pillow to drive away my fear of darkness and surrender to deep slumber in the arms of the night and dream away. Dreaming and recalling the dreams that I had had during the previous night was something I used to relish and await every single day.
One fine day back then father had taken leave of me and mother and gone on an expedition for the promotion of his book for a day. As always I kept my favourite book under my pillow and slept within a few moments. In my dream that night I sneaked out of the mansion through the window of my room and ran to the nearby village where the farmers who used to work in our fields resided. The thought of the village had always fascinated me and I had been inclined to visit the village many a times but to my dismay I had never been allowed to because of my upbringing in a place where playing in mud inviting minor bruises was unacceptable.
My dream was like a dream come true for me where I made my way through paths amidst trees and bushes to run to the fields abounding in peapods. The fields bathed in the purity of dewdrops, was truly an example of serenity at its best. I gasped with joy and bent down to embrace the fragrance of the white buds of the pods but was engulfed in darkness as soon as I felt the fragrance take over my senses. In the fraction of a second I felt as if my mother had tucked me in within a warm blanket in my bed on an unusually cold night. But after a few moments itself the thought that had struck me had been replaced by the realisation that my human body had been replaced by the body of a miniature pea that was huddled along with five other peas within a peapod that were actually whispering to each other. The pod opened as if the warm blanket had been taken away and moonlight made its way within my new arena. The sudden shock diminished soon as my companions made me aware of the fact that the ones that are enveloped in the fragrance of the flowers sprouting on the plants when clock struck twelve, were made their companion for the night when they come alive.
It dawned upon me that the series of events that were taking place were the same as those mentioned in my favourite storybook of the peapods. I had a fascination for peapods when I was a child as the peas looked so adorable and innocent within their cover that provided them with a comfortable cot to thrive in. The peas persuaded me to jump outside the peapod. All of us did so and bounced our way into different fields and flowerbeds. My sole desire at that moment was to freeze the time forever but I was mortified when informed that the peas come alive only at midnight and have to return to their peapods as stationery miniscule elements of the nature as soon as the sun rises.
The daybreak was near and I was rushed back home by the peas. As soon as I jumped back inside my room through the window, the sun rose and at that moment my I came out of my dream when sunrays cast a glow upon my face. I woke up with a smile and was taken aback to notice two tiny peas on my windowsill. At that moment my father came into the room and after being a patient listener to my entire story that would have seemed like a piece of my imagination to others, he unravelled the mystery behind the entire incident. That day I came to know that the children who believe in the power of words are bestowed upon the privilege of visiting the world of words once. Today I am a children's author and with every word written by my quill I cross my fingers with the realisation that while I pour my passion into my books somewhere the magic of words would be coming alive for a hopeful heart.
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