When I was first approached to take up this column, I was perplexed. I didn’t think I would be able to do justice to it. What did I know about school? And what did I know about news? But it turned out to be completely different. I am no news reporter for The Green Pages. I am the storyteller. This column allowed me to talk to a variety of people. People I wouldn’t have the guts to talk to under ordinary circumstances. Through my weekly articles, I illuminate the rich stories of the students just like you and me. I chronicle the extraordinary parts of lives we brush shoulders with every day. I will continue to record tales of the wonderful school we call home.
I am the nameless bard who paints the walls with the narratives of the people who breathed this school to life.I am the storyteller, and I lived so many lives through the stories of the people I write about. This time, I get the chance to tell my own.
Why do I write? I stared at this question for an hour before typing anything at all because I don’t know why I write. Writing is like breathing to me. Why do we breathe? Okay, maybe writing isn’t as easy as breathing. Sometimes it comes to you without thinking, without any voluntary process, but sometimes it isn’t that easy. The words stop flowing, and every letter becomes a cough. You’re rushing to catch your breath and fill your lungs with fresh air, and you forget about every time you could breathe. The sputtering stops as suddenly as it started, but you don’t know when the next bout will strike. The words fill up the page, as you fill up your lungs with fresh air. Time starts flowing once again.
I write because I breathe. And I breathe because I write.
The fact I get to turn something that is so personal to me into a piece that is meaningful to all these people around me is what keeps me going. I will sputter again. I will stumble. But, for the sake of my column, I won’t leave the page empty. No matter how excruciating, the words will flow again. No one said breathing is easy. No feeling compares to a gasp of new air after being held underwater. No feeling compares to a page of words after staring into blank space for days on end.
This column will continue. Although every article is a mountain on its own, this column will continue. Because I have heard so many stories, and I will hear of so many more. And I cannot wait to share them with you. Are you willing to listen to my stories? Will you let me tell yours?
- Minal Shaik
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