Like any other good story I have written, I always feel them coming. Gnawing at me. It takes me days or in this case weeks put it all together because it comes to me in pieces and I have to keep arranging and rearranging words to bring out what I actually want to write.

 The American poet Ruth Stone, once told Elizabeth Gilbert that when she was growing up in rural Virginia, she would be out working in the fields, she would feel and hear a poem coming at her from over the landscape. It was like a thunderous train of air and it would come barreling down at her over the landscape. And she felt it coming, because it would shake the earth under her feet. She knew that she had only one thing to do at that point, and that was to, in her words, "run like hell." And she would run like hell to the house and she would be getting chased by this poem, and the whole deal was that she had to get to a piece of paper and a pencil fast enough so that when it thundered through her, she could collect it and grab it on the page. And other times she wouldn't be fast enough, so she'd be running and running and running, and she wouldn't get to the house and the poem would barrel through her and she would miss it and she said it would continue on across the landscape, looking, as she put it "for another poet." And then there were these times -- this is the piece I never forgot -- she said that there were moments where she would almost miss it, right? So, she's running to the house and she's looking for the paper and the poem passes through her, and she grabs a pencil just as it's going through her, and then she said, it was like she would reach out with her other hand and she would catch it. She would catch the poem by its tail, and she would pull it backwards into her body as she was transcribing on the page. And in these instances, the poem would come up on the page perfect and intact, but backwards, from the last word to the first.

I have not written in a while and to say the truth, I did not even try, each time I thought about writing for the blog, I got scared because too much time had passed before I had written and I knew after all that time what I wrote had be really good so I procrastinated for as long as I could. Most of my readers being people I know personally, each time we met reminded me that I have previously written about writing diligently and religiously on the blog every Thursday.

Over the weeks I have had plenty of ideas of what I was going to write about, but only one idea has stuck throughout the whole time -to write about my desire to be a mother as well as another one of my desires that in every way contradict the first one to travel the world and just experience life in new cities and be part of them, Who does not want to backpack through Europe? Both these desires come to me with the same intensity and I cannot make up my mind which I love more than the other, or which I should experience and which I should just forget.

My desire to have a baby is deeply intriguing, even to myself. After all, I am just 22. It is a discussion I have had, not really, it is something I have mentioned only two people, the girl I call my best friend, Sonali and the guy or is it man (I do not know which is appropriate) am seeing, both of them mumbled a few words I quite don’t remember. I don’t blame them, it is a shocking thing to be told by a person you just started seeing and a university student without any source of income for that matter. For a while now I have thought about seeing a psychiatrist to help me understand why in the world I would want a child at this time in my life, but I am yet to make any actual steps towards that, I guess am scared of what truth I shall come to realize.

I have come up with my own theories about it though. One being that, I am looking for a very permanent relationship with unconditional love. Most times when I think about my mother the feeling that comes with these thoughts is love an insane amount of love that I do not even know how to explain. She is the one person being sure I would die for. If this isn’t love I do not know what is.

 I remember one Sunday afternoon watching my boyfriend get embarrassed as his mother told him she loved him in front of a bunch of girls as we made lunch, the I love you statement was followed by ‘’you always cushion my worries.’’ This statement has stuck in my head it refused to budge it has found a hiding place in the sacred corners of my mind that I refuse to explore. Well, truth be told I want someone to cushion my worries, someone who belongs to me entirely.

He has a special relationship with his mother, my boyfriend and I envy it, in the sense that that is what I would like to have with my future son. And no, I am not worried he is not a mama’s boy.

My other theory I have not paid much attention to it as I prefer the first theory. This one has to do with things I am yet to deal with or even talk about. when I say I want a baby, I mean a baby boy, sounds bias of me, I know but it is what I honestly want. So having said that, I think this baby boy has to do with my insecurities with men to sum it up. Daddy issues.

I do not know which of this theory holds the most truth and maybe after a very serious soul searching, I will find that this theories are just actually one, I do not know. But I do like what Elizabeth Gilbert says in her book eat pray love… people have children for all manner of reasons-sometimes out of a pure desire to nurture and witness life. I think this is mine.

 I would have loved for that to be the closing paragraph, but I can’t least word get to my mother that I want to get a child and I am yet to complete my degree, neither am I financially stable nor married. This are the social constraints that bar me from my desire and to which I have conformed because in all honesty, bringing a child into the world as of now is just a bad idea.