It was not my intention to be awake at 3am.

It was also not my intention to sit on the cold cemented floor and think of the perfect story to write, but it all happened, and now, I am here thinking of what to do with myself.

My friend always tells me not to be fooled by rocking chairs. They move back and forth but they never leave the spot they are in. I know about being a rocking chair, isn’t that the same as procrastinating?

It so happened that y 4am I had written three chapters of a story that could not stop bugging me in my sleep. I went back to bed at 5am, and lazily stepped out of it at 7:16am to make chapatis for breakfast.

I committed a crime, and maybe my literary sins are catching up with me- but have you ever read something you wrote and asked yourself, “what was I thinking?”

It’s been three hours and I feel as though I am back to square one- and the three chapters that I wrote while half asleep or half awake do not seem to make sense to me.