Ever since I remember, I loved writing. In class 3, when trying to seek admission in a convent school, I was to write a paragraph, though I don’t remember what it was on, I remember the mother (Dean of the school) there pointing out the abundance of spelling mistakes in my incomplete essay. Incomplete, because I was a slow writer (and still am) and had run out of time. I distinctly remember her pointing out that I had spelt ground as groung (It was the last word in my paragraph). Oh! And now I remember, the sentence had something to do with an elephant being chained to the ground. It was probably an essay on the circus. Anyway, by humiliating me (did I mention it was in front of my sister) she had in some way suppressed my desire to write. And if you are wondering whether I got admission in that school, I don’t remember bothering to check, since the school was across the river, and my mum didn’t want me n my sis to commute in a ferry. Then again, somewhere in class 5-6, there was this conversation between the moon n me that I had to imagine and write. And the title that I chose was A tête-a-tête with the moon. I remember that a few of my friends ridiculed the title. That was the end of my quest for building a verbose vocabulary. Time went by and I changed a lot, no longer being influenced by others criticism, I turned into this wall, never giving in the slightest bit. And so without any time limits to adhere to and with a faithful word-processor to correct my spelling and in some cases even my grammatical mistakes, I started my own blog. Since all I intend to do here is talk nineteen to the dozen, I decide to name it The Urge To Blabber.