Even as a child, I never believed in magic or fairies or wondrous places where dreams come true. I never believed in tales of scheming witches, eccentric wizards, and sleeping princesses — waiting to be awakened — by a knight in shining armour. I never believed in spirits, even if, I did get scared in the dark. Much later, I stopped believing in an omnipotent entity believed to control our mortal lives and feeble thoughts. I thought monochrome was a colour for a very long time and I couldn’t seem to like anything that had the slightest hue of pink.
In hindsight, I wish I had a little faith in things that were never seen, yet everyone chose to believe in. It makes the hardships of life more bearable — without getting crushed under the weight of reality. Hope can be a wonderful placebo when you’re on the last step of an empty well.
Now that I’m older and challenges aren’t as easy to face; I look for inspiration in nature. In the course of our two-year stay in Seoul, nature has proved to be a wonderful teacher. She knows how to mould our minds with every changing season. She may have knocked me cold with a bitter punch in winter, but now she’s healing my wounds with fairy dust in spring. She’s got me believing in magical places where dreams come true. Even the sleeping trees have been awakened by the soft kisses of spring rain. Pink is my new favourite and I’ve started to feel an invisible force that controls life in ways that I cannot explain. I feel alive and bursting with energy to taste every new sight or glimpse of life that she’s willing to show me.