Skip to main content

Fledgling turns 2!


Hey there! I have some amazing news to share. Fledgling is turning two today!


Time does seem to fly by. My humble beginning with Fledgling, exactly two years ago, just seems like yesterday. Not too long ago, I was a perky ten-year-old who just loved writing. Here I am, two years later, now something much more.

A lot of miracles have crashed upon my life in these two years. In early 2018, I finally decided to let the world see my work. I was finally ready to push and tear my cocoon open to show the world my colourful wings. A year later, I wove some of my stories together and published my first book Solitude, something I will never forget. Months later, I started writing local articles for newspapers and magazines and later tried my hand at writing for anthologies.

This journey has been so exciting and memorable. Every time I look back, I find beautiful memories I will always cherish, like the night I published my first post on Fledgling. That thrill and high I get from writing and publishing is something I will never get bored of.

It is still quite hard to believe Fledgling has surpassed the two-year milestone. Flashing back, shaping and channelizing my writing on Fledgling and eventually publishing it to show the world would have been beyond my dreams. Finally, the whispers once contained in my diaries are now loud and clear.

Coming to Fledgling, it has been my sole companion through tough times. When reality was too painful to bear, I turned to Fledgling and quietly slipped into the world of clacking keyboards and gushing voices in my head. When I was too broken, I painted my dreams on the wall we call Fledgling. When I slaved under pressure, I built my own kingdom in the world I call Fledgling and crowned myself the empress.

I still remember the night I published my very first post on Fledgling. The hours crept closer to midnight and I crouched in front of the laptop, editing my first post. I wanted to remember this moment. I mumbled a silent countdown with a growing grin and the moment I clicked the 'Publish' button, I was already dancing and swimming in the dreamy clouds. A time when all families were long tucked in their beds and fast asleep, I was screaming and bubbling with excitement. My writing, which once only I had been reading, gave way to readership scattered across the globe.

I had to name my blog in a word that would describe me best. When I was wondering what to name my blog, the word Fledgling popped up in our heads. Ever since, that has remained my identity I will proudly sport.

No matter what I acheive in future, Fledgling will always be my roots. My thanks and hugs for everyone, starting from Meera ma'am, who greatly inspired and influenced my writing. I would like to thank my family, who have supported and cheered me throughout this journey. A big thank you to my mom, for introducing the world of writing and literature to me. If not for my dad's technical support, I would not have been able to create Fledgling and begin this wonderful journey. Last but not the least, the biggest thank you is for you, who helped me grow into a confident being with your constant support and for motivating me throughout these two years, which I hope you will in future too.

I just want to end this personal letter of mine with a thank you for everyone who has been a part of this journey. To many more years ahead!


#excited  #FledglingTouchesTwo  ##happytimes   #DownTheMemoryLane  

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Reminiscing

(Photo by Nong Vang on Unsplash ) It was a still, quiet night. The air seemed untouched by the maddening chaos in my mind. I glanced at the night sky, and spotted a star glimmering in the distance. The unusually gripping sight brushed me back to a fragment of my past, a chapter sealed long before. A whiff of my past my naive self still lived in. A life I had long left. I used to enjoy observing the tiny flickers of light, while my heart filled with hope for tomorrow. They looked like little flames whose glowing tips waltzed in the gentle evening wind. Those quiet, fulfilling moments spent squinting at tiny specks of light, while savouring the crisp air with traces of floral detergent from the clothesline, were one of a kind. Something no productivity chart would ever be able to explain. It was something I was not yet accustomed to; living a new life with new people, making new memories. Those little joys and fears that would excite my younger self. It's moments like these, moments...
Post a Comment
Read more

My Quiet Hours Doodling

(Doodle by author) Those strokes hold some power over my soul. Every stroke of black ink on the paper carries my flow of zen. I feel my zen flowing through the bold lines of ink, as it seeps into the thin paper and leaves an imprint on the next page, like a faint footprint of time on a page left unwritten, a sliver of the blank pages of the future. I feel my throbbing anger, roaming curiosity and emotion trapped within drain from my veins and flow out like ink. It calms the raging storm within, liberates the compressed frustration, when emotion and doubt cloud my sight, when I cannot quite find answers to questions within. I let it take form. I let my mind and soul wander on paper, and they imprint traces of great wars fought in turmoil. I let the strokes clash into one another; some overshadow others, some lie far apart. Yet, the raw self cannot bear rules. I let the imperfections rule the paper, and that is what makes me raw, real and human. In the end, the wild strokes embrace and I...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Letter to Thatha

The little specks of pearl in the sky Glowing and fuming, With the vapours of our memories.  In my swollen, glistening eyes, I saw the flare of your pyre in the stars, Like a spangle caught in my tears, The light of our love stretches its arms. I never knew a pain greater,  When my fingertips caressed your cold, grey folds of skin I never knew I could feel so broken inside, With scalding memories and a heart wanting justice. With last words untold, goodbyes unsaid. I never thought the day would come,  When I came home to your warm smile and open arms, But would instead be greeted by your empty chair. I never thought I would shudder and hide at your sight, Until you lay in the icy coffin like a child, Oblivious to our cries and wails. I never knew I would so badly yearn, To hear you call me one more time. I watched you become a child again. I never minded your faltering memory, Your greying eyes that often stared out in the open, I was content, With your pupils carrying a ...
1 comment
Read more