A Life Meant to Wander

“Der lagi lekin, maine ab jeena seekh liya.”
(It took time, but I learned how to live.)

I never understood how early the pressure to be perfect settled into me.

I still remember begging Amma to take me to the tiny stationery shop. I was overflowing with excitement, imagining the drawing book, the watercolors, the pencils arranged neatly in my hand. When we finally bought them, I held the book like treasure.
The cover showed mountains under a sunset, a river flowing quietly, flowers bright and alive.

The moment I opened it, the scent of new paper wrapped around me. Those white pages felt pure and inviting, and I felt an instant connection with them.

That first night, I copied the scenery from the cover, and it actually looked good. But the next day, when I tried drawing something on my own, it came out terrible. It felt like I had ruined the page.
After that, I never had the courage to touch the next one.

I opened that book many times with a pencil in my hand. However, the fear of spoiling something perfect always stopped me.
So the rest of the pages stayed empty.

Years later, I realized it wasn’t just about the drawing book.
It was a pattern.
If I wasn’t good enough, I avoided trying at all.

But slowly, with awkward steps and uncomfortable attempts, I began pushing myself. I let myself try, fail, and try again. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t easy. But it was real.

Now I’m proud of my imperfect trials.
I don’t strive for mastery anymore. I simply enjoy learning.
I don’t aim only for the destination. I’ve learned to love the journey too.

My book of life is no longer blank. Every page bears the colorful, messy, honest painting of who I am.