Copyright © [Surabhi Parashar] [2026]. All Rights Reserved.¹

Today I sit, wrapped in my thoughts, sipping my morning coffee. Just absorbing the scenery in my backyard. It snowed all night, and the sun hasn’t risen yet. The streetlights are still on, and the lamppost near my backyard is freckled with snow. Leafless trees stand in silhouette, their edges softly defined by powdered white. The only green in the vast sea of snow is the pine tree, where pinecones play peekaboo with the snow, waiting for sunshine. The whole view is worthy of being on a Hallmark greeting card.

I love waking up early in winter, when the morning wears a greyish hue, and I feel a gentle sense of victory for being up before the sun. This is my favourite time. I gather my thoughts, plan my day, or simply sit in solitude, keeping company with myself. This is a blank space I can fill with anything I want. It’s also when I sketch out my blog posts in my mind, shaping the framework, thinking through ideas, and noting the facts that need research. Once the day begins and my other roles start to take over, my time fragments. I’m left with small pockets where I try to put my ideas down on paper.

While I was thinking about what to write next, I had no idea what to write. So, I decided to write about the act of writing itself. Why do people write? History is filled with great writers, some timeless, some contemporary, some ahead of their time, and others who hold up a mirror to society, unafraid to speak the bare truth. Writing also offers solace to many. Some of my fellow bloggers write to express themselves without judgment; for others, it is a true calling, a way to find themselves or the true meaning of life. My reasons, however, are rather simple: science and storytelling. I am not a writer; I am a scientist. And that is how I approach words, I think and write like a scientist. I am also an avid reader, and it feels almost selfish to learn something important and not share it with others.

When it comes to writing style, I do have a preference. Recently, I read the novel Butter by Asako Yuzuki and instantly fell in love with her writing. My first thought was that if I ever write fiction, this is the style I would gravitate towards. Yuzuki is a journalist turned author; she creates a compelling amalgamation of fact and fiction. Her writing feels distinctly contemporary, and knowing that she is not a native English speaker, that the book was originally written in Japanese, makes the work feel even more genuine and compelling. There are two more Japanese authors whom I look up to. Sir Kazuo Ishiguro (2017 Nobel prize for Literature) and the author of one of my favorite Klara and the Sun, and Haruki Murakami, the author of Norwegian Wood and many others. When you read their books, it’s impossible to put them down; their storytelling styles are distinctive, immersive, and unmatched. And I can only remain in awe of their talent.

For a long time, I only read classics and renowned authors. I began with abridged versions of Shakespeare when I was twelve, books my dad bought while preparing for his Master’s in English Literature. Our home was filled with literary giants: Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, and Ernest Hemingway. This was my introduction to the world of literature, and I couldn’t resist being completely entranced by it. Over time, I came to feel strongly about one thing: the best books are born when an author doesn’t stray from their roots and offers a piece of themselves to the reader. The magic that is created is almost surreal. Some of my favourite Indian authors who have left a lasting mark on the literary world include Salman Rushdie, Arundhati Roy, and Chetan Bhagat. Their celebrated works, Midnight’s Children and The God of Small Things, are heavily inspired by their early life experiences. Chetan Bhagat, named as one of Time magazine’s most influential people, writes about his days at IIT Delhi in his debut novel, Five Point Someone. When an author puts their honest feelings onto the page, it is bound to mesmerize readers. As I finish my morning coffee and get back to my morning rhythm, the nostalgia of books lingers. I hope this little window into my thoughts nudges you to pick up a book this weekend. Just a few pages, a quiet corner, maybe a cup of coffee of your own, and before you know it, you’ll be glad you spent some time in the company of words. 😊

1. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to [Surabhi Parashar] and [mindful-echoes.com] with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
   _{Copyright protection for computerized literary works applies automatically when a work is originally authored and fixed.} ↩︎