Thank you!

Throughout almost two years of Fledgling, you might have read about several people and places. This is my story.

Since childhood, I have always been an ambitious child who yearned and burned with the passion to create an identity for myself. I was a sensitive child too, often bullied for my complexion. Though academic life was always a breeze, my social life has always struggled for stability and it still does. My conversations are rarely with people and my peers have always been in the form of a paper and pen.

I needed something.

My only comfort was music and literature. I delved deep into the literary universe and soon found myself intoxicated with the solace it gave me. Immersing myself in books and listening to other stories did help me take the weight off my mind, but these emotions, filled with inferiority, often overwhelmed my tiny brain and pushed them out in tears. It threatened to dangerously gnaw away at my confidence, which I could not afford to do at any cost.

I could not let the society define who I am. No one was ever going to push me down. I still had battles to fight and storms to chase.

Over time, I learnt to shape those tears into words, once trapped in my heart. I eventually learnt how to craft my thoughts and intentions and perfect my art of writing. I gradually grew from a mess of colours to meaningful strokes on the canvas. I learnt the art of playing with words. Little did I know, that the playful four-line poem I wrote in first-grade would give birth to something so extraordinary in my life.

Since then, writing has become a part of my flesh and bones. It has helped me express my emotions in a healthy way and create my own legacy.


In the beginning of 2018, these words found themselves in Fledgling, my most beloved brainchild. Since then, it has found a prized place in my heart and let my words and thoughts spread across for the world to read.


Things took a surprising turn earlier this year on January 12, when I met Ms. Meera Barath, now my mentor. A casual visit to the book fair led me to Meera ma'am, whom I met at a Notionpress stall. A beautiful conversation followed, and I came home with a pamphlet of Kindle Direct Publishing, a gift I will always treasure more than anything else.

This pamphlet, which I still have safely, opened the most cherished chapter of my life. This pamphlet, gave me the confidence in my work and later, with the constant encouragement and support from Meera ma'am and my family, helped me publish my short stories into my first book, Solitude. What was once a flickering flame was then fed and brought up to create a wildfire.

Meera ma'am, thank you for everything.




Another person I would love to thank is Ms. Monalisa Joshi, the editor-in-chief of Plethora Magazine, a blossoming brainchild of this multifaceted being. An flawless veteran of Elizabethan poetry, Ms. Joshi publishes the work of several people like me, striving hard to make their mark.

Monalisa ma'am has been a great support too, by considering and finally publishing my work on her magazine and
Plethora's upcoming book The Coffee Table Book. Her one decision of considering my work has opened several doors for me ever since. I am indebted to these two instrumental people in my journey of writing.





Last but not the least, my mother.
A librarian by profession, she has been the starting point of my literary adventure and the ever-abundant moral support tank I can always count on. By the way, she was the first-ever reader of my work (including my first four-line poem) and has always remained so, ever since. She still remains the only person who endures my mood swings and still offers excellent advice. My first editor, proofreader, reader, critic, support system and what not?


Thank you Amma.




There is also yet another person who has always been a companion and spent almost all her life clinging onto me. My little sister Meghna. She has been my source of encouragement and motivation all through. She is a person who has always selflessly rooted for me and perform magic on my dull days with her pinch of happiness. She is the person who can inject that perfect little idea of inspiration in my mind and yet bears with my horrible mood swings. She will always be that only person who, after I yell at, slowly creep in and apologise for my mistake and hug me when I am in tears. She is and will always be my little sweetheart who never stops to annoy and amaze me for the tiny pesky creature she is. 


More than anyone else, I would like to thank you (yes, you) for reading my work and letting me grow from an enthusiastic ten-year-old to a recognized and responsible twelve-year-old.

Writing has been and will be that wonderful journey whose thrill and high will never wear off in my blood. It has and will always remain my best friend that will accompany me for a lifetime, sharing my laughter, tears and anger alike. It will always be that buddy who will laugh along with me and lend a shoulder to cry on. Perhaps, like Paulo Coelho said, writing is probably my legend for this lifetime. It is the voice that flows from my heart despite the cacophony, sharp and clear beyond the hills.

Rather than the identity I set out to make for myself, it is the journey of victory, loss, exploring and experimenting that has defined the person I am today and the shiny badge of experience I now proudly wear.