Like Shakespeare, who wrote the world as a big stage and us as mere actors, I do believe he was right! There is so much to learn from this big stage, which is a combination of unique cultures and traditions. It’s a place where we learn different languages and about different people and places. It certainly is a big stage for me and every day I won’t say act but live and breathe different and unique experiences!
It all started very early. Being different was something I sensed and the two most important people in my life knew it as well – mum and dad. Maths interested me without even realising it. It just came naturally. It really didn’t matter whether I was good at it or not but solving problems felt exciting.
I remember mum giving me maths questions and telling me that she was going to the kitchen to prepare the evening meal but would be back soon, and by that time all the questions should be finished. There were about 6 to 7 questions and I was around 6 years old. Pleasing my mum was always important for me and finding ways to do that came naturally. Her innocent smile and naivety meant everything and even then it was clear that doing more questions or finishing the whole paper would make her happy. So I did it… all the questions, not only 6 to 7. As expected, when she came back, she was very impressed and seeing the glitter in her eyes made me just as happy.
That was the start of my maths journey, first to impress my mum… and later becoming maths-crazy, maths-obsessed, a maths enthusiast and of course now a maths master.
Writing came a bit later, around adolescence. It became a tool during those moments of wanting to express but not being able to or rather not having that support system, that solid wall, that perfect shoulder to cry on. Making meaningful friendships was never easy. There were admirers, followers, but not friends. Not sure if that even makes sense but I did try making friends, maybe once or twice but perhaps didn’t put in enough effort. Being guarded felt safer even though it didn’t completely prevent hurt. Jotting down thoughts felt like nirvana, something that couldn’t be shared not because of hidden secrets but because it felt like no one would truly care. No one would understand… even my family, although there is a paradox to it as my dad was a professor of psychology. There is a belief that the more professionally successful you are the less present you might be on the home front. Not sure how true that is but from experience it feels rare to find both.
Growing up meant being surrounded by stacks of psychology books. The smell of them became something special. A few weeks back my doorbell rang, snapping me out of my thoughts and a long-awaited parcel arrived. A pack of second-hand books. Opening it with excitement, that faint, familiar scent of old pages rose instantly. The scent was so familiar, just like my dad’s psychology books. It felt nostalgic… and writing, in many ways, felt the same, like turning those faint old pages. It’s liberating to have your voice heard but not doubted.
I read somewhere that if destiny is the worst screenwriter, then you should try to be the best director and here I am today, writing my own blog… not sure if I can call it the first one but something that I have been ever so waiting for and I will try not to be the worst screenwriter as I know nothing about directing…
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