21 days of repeating the same action day after day creates a habit. It takes another 21, of abstinence to break it.
Surviving the first twenty-one weeks in a womb normally means a good chance you will get through the next nineteen; to emerge into the unknown: walking a path that billions have traversed, yet which will be unique to you.
Both life and death seem to be at the mercy of fate. A fate, which is as often decided as much by the throw of a dice, as by parents who attempt to steer you for the first twenty-one years of your life. Until, you taste that coming of age freedom, and travel in search of adventure: trying to define what makes you. A question, which will haunt you for the rest of your life: most of it spent undoing that, which you have been conditioned for.
So, as I wrote 21st episode of the Ruby Iyer series, I sensed I had crossed a line.
From being an idea, she lived now in real time. Hated by few, read by others, loved by some: nevertheless she was there. I was here.
What had gotten the words out, week after week was that same habit of being consistent, sticking to a routine too.