The realisation that I had a streak of creativity occurred to me quite late in life. The earlier flash I had, had dried up after two of my articles were published in newspaper. My daughter used to tease me that she had never known a “writer's block” lasting a lifetime. I took it up as a challenge and decided to revitalise the spark.
And how? The daily practice of “Art of Living” cleared all the cobwebs of my mind. The wealth of creativity that had lain dormant for so many years simply gushed forth and I wrote and wrote and wrote. But, I could not muster the courage to send it for publication lest it be rejected.

Finally, my opportunity came when I happened to see a weekly tabloid distributed free in our area. The tabloid survived purely on ads. When I contacted the editor, he agreed to print my articles, one every week, but without any remuneration. The thrill of seeing myself in print overruled all the lowly mercenary considerations.
With limited copies printed, the tabloid used to be distributed to different areas by rotation. Thus it was that I came to know that my first article was published, only when a fan-mail arrived.

Once, our neighbors in the opposite house, had gone out of the country. As usual, the boys threw the copy of the tabloid containing my article in front of their gate, before I could tell them that there was nobody there.
The poor paper kept lying there in sun, rain and wind keeping company with the rotten orange flowers and leaves of “Flame of the forest” and old, used plastic covers. The water from the neighbour’s car washing even brought in silt and covered my precious article. It was heart wrenching to see my baby subjected to such a state.
I could not take my eyes off the paper lying in the slush. I very much wanted to pick it up, wash it, iron it and restore it to an honorable place. But, my husband put his foot down and would not let me pick up the “garbage”. I underwent untold pangs till mercifully one day the corporation sweeper swept it away ,out of my sight.