From a long time, I was trying to improve the speed of transmission of my thoughts onto a document. Suddenly the two unconnected events of the Mumbai monsoon and the flash floods at Kedarnath fuelled the spark in my mind.
All these events and the fact that I was twiddling my thumb doing nothing in my hotel room, set the platform for my writing. My time on hand went from famine to deluge. From not knowing what to do, I found myself burning the midnight oil.
My thoughts were random and not linear. The first scene I wrote was that of the protagonist hanging on to a tower for his dear life. The water level below him, rising by the passing minute. I have retained the same passage as a prelude in my book.
I stitched a story as to what happens before and after the event. I took the time to concoct the events that led the protagonist to be in the valley during the floods. Getting into a disaster zone as a planned trip did not sound exciting. It had to be a chance or an accidental decision that made the protagonist undertake the journey.
What were the circumstances that make the protagonist become the accidental pilgrim? What are the characteristics of each person? How does the story unfold? How does the character of the protagonist build up in the course of the story? How does the story start and end?
From trying to hone my skills of transmission of my thoughts, I ended up pursuing a new skill of connecting events.
These endless questions clouded my mind. I wanted to give up this wasteful exercise. But the want of doing anything else in the evenings at the lonely hotel room, while it was raining cats and dogs outside, made me hang in there.
Many people have asked me how did I become an author. Nobody thought that I had an inclination to write. Including myself!. I would say given the circumstances, boredom spurred creativity.