There were no ideas in my mind. No perspectives. No plans. Then, a tiny spark ignited something that had been dormant for a long time. And so, the beginning began… 

I’m talking about these blogs. At one of the lowest points in my life, spiraling toward depression at rocket speed, a brake was gently applied. There were no jolts, just an unexpected blossom, bursting open and showering me with ideas I didn’t know I had. 

At first, I wondered—*Can I write? Will I?* How many? I had so much time on my hands—why not give it a try? The first blog came naturally, and the sense of achievement from writing that one piece sparked something deeper, something more powerful. Soon, it started rolling. 

I didn’t set out with a goal for how much I would write. I only knew I had to write. There was a vacuum inside me—a nagging emptiness—that needed to be filled. So I wrote. And I kept writing. 

Initially, I wrote just one blog per day. My sons and siblings appreciated the first one, which spurred me on. Every day, without fail, I would send that day’s blog to them via WhatsApp. It became a ritual—one I wasn’t willing to break. 

Then another spark: Why not write more than one a day? That way, I could have a few in reserve for the days I didn’t feel like writing. Soon, the tempo built up—*Why not three blogs in a day, if the ideas are flowing? Four? Or five?* The most I’ve written in a day is five. 

Over time, I built a collection, and sending out one blog a day became effortless. There was no finish line in sight. I just wrote, day by day. 

It reminded me of cricket when I was young. A batsman scoring 25 runs would be applauded—*“A quarter-century!”*—but soon that wasn’t impressive enough. The new standard became 50. A century earned a standing ovation, but batsmen pushed further—scoring 200, 300, and even 400, like Brian Lara. For these legends, there were no limits. 

Likewise, I reached my quarter-century, then my half-century, and then a hundred blogs. I kept going without strain, and here I am—this is my 400th blog! 

Great achievements are often the result of small, consistent efforts—one baby step at a time. All it takes is a spark of motivation to shake off inertia, get started, and keep going. The best way to finish something is simply to begin. Once you start, the process takes over, becoming its source of motivation. 

Will I stop here? I don’t think so. Never. Because these are just numbers. Numbers alone cannot satisfy me. Reaching a milestone isn’t the true source of joy—the process is. Writing itself brings me immense satisfaction, and that satisfaction is my happiness. And that happiness is bliss. 

There’s a mischievous little thought in the back of my mind: Why not try publishing these blogs? Maybe in a newspaper, or as a book. That was once a dream of mine—to see my work in print. 

But is that my goal? No. The idea of monetizing my writing feels irrelevant. Neither the lure of money nor the desire for accolades can match the soul-satisfying bliss I find in simply writing. Nothing—no recognition or reward—can add to the joy I feel from the act itself. 

For me, bliss is a moving point. Writing will continue, and bliss will lead the way. 

When I shared these blogs with a few close people before posting them, their feedback varied: “The language is good.” “Your memory is sharp.” “Maybe avoid too many synonyms.” “I enjoy reading them.” 

What I seek, though, are honest and thoughtful comments—frank but not harsh. Was the presentation engaging? Did it stir any personal memories for the reader? Was the language clear and easy to follow? Were any sentences vague or confusing? Could any life lessons be drawn from my experiences? Were there hidden health tips? Did the blogs touch on behavior or attitudes in meaningful ways? What was missing? What was abundant? 

I’ve kept each blog short—three to four minutes’ reading time—to respect readers’ attention spans. 

As I’ve said before, if even one person finds something good in these blogs, it’s a victory for my soul.