I am not a Scheherazade!
Yes, I am not a Scheherazade, the famous woman teller of never ending stories of ‘Arabian Nights’ who could keep you on the edge of seat and weave a magical tale from the previous tale.
She kept her husband prince Shahryar spellbound with a new story every night but never completed it and kept the end for next night to avoid being killed by her husband. The king, in order to listen the climax did not kill her.
She told the tales for thousand and one nights. During this period, the prince fell slowly in love with her and revoked his vow to keep a bride for one conjugal night and then kill her the following morning.
My store of imagination is very meagre, It is bits here and bits there. After writing a single paragraph, it is quits for me. My imagination runs dry. Thank God, I am not telling my ideas to a prince of Arabia, otherwise my head must have rolled off long time ago.
For that matter, my readers-if there are any-are very tolerant and forgive my idiosyncrasies. I am not a pedagogue, I am not teaching any lessons to anyone. As my attention wanders from place to place, I try to capture the events in my mind and then transfer them to the paper and ink. That is all. Thanks