My parents wanted me so badly, they named me Binati, after I was born. Their Binati (prayers) had been heard.
Parents raised me with unconditional love. I was a voracious story consumer. They strived hard to keep me supplied with story books.
A time came, when I knew all available stories by heart so well, that I could correct them, even when half asleep.
"Ba, bhalu pahle chai ke liye, mor key pass jaata hai, aur phir bakri ke", I would chide her from my sleepy pillow.
I remember my father, once making a desperate choice, to feed my story cravings.
With the pay day a week away and 150/- in the pocket, he had gone shopping to the market and sprained his foot on the way.
Instead of buying medication for himself, he had brought home Navneet Picture Books, because I was so looking forward to them.
I loved school. My teachers made learning fun.
My father had once again punched above his weight and put me in an ICSE curriculum. Rote answers were rewarded with zero marks. The school taught me to think for myself.
My English teacher filled me with a lifetime of love for languages. I knew this is what I wanted to do.
Of course, I scored well in exams. I wish I had not. Scores turned out to be a bit of a curse for me.
Some *conditions applied*, to my family's love. Born in a traditional Gujarati middle-class family, I was the first daughter in this generation of our clan.
Much was expected from a bright child, and engineering was the answer they already had in mind.
I (force) joined an engineering college. My love for languages and writing had been swept aside.
In 3 months, I knew for sure, I would make a lousy engineer. With rampant rote learning, it was difficult to survive there, for someone like me.
So I sneaked my loves back into my engineering life.
18 year old me, admired UNICEF.
Some twitter hacking later, I dug out their email and pitched office-help to them.
'I can do minutes of meetings, graphics and presentation decks for your cause'. They loved my enthusiasm, I guess. It helped, I was not asking for any money.
I was now busy doing what I loved. I reached out to more organisations I admired. Some word-of-mouth squirrel-marketing later, I had more work than I could handle.
The girl who had never bunked school would now happily bunk college to show up for this adventure.
With this work, I polished my written expression and how to pitch ideas. My patrons were all solving big problems. From them, I also learnt how to think holistically.
In all this, I managed to pass my engineering too. Our principal even wrote a recommendation letter for me, praising my extra-curricular skills.
I had rebelled quietly and in these 4 years proved to myself and all around me, how deftly I could flow around obstacles.
No prizes for guessing – I wanted content writing jobs after graduation instead of anything engineering related.
My benefactors became my first customers. From there to now, my writing journey has spanned an 11 years and I have come full circle too.
The rebel in me has gone mainstream. Awards, Accolades and Appreciative customers will do that to anyone :)