My Tattoo.

I decided, on rather a whim, to get my first tattoo. So much so that the fact that I now have ink ingrained into my being forever and ever still hasn’t hit me. But that’s a separate story. This one, is much more magical, just like the man himself.

I was in  9 years old and had been through an intense year having just moved back to my dads after living with my mother for a few years and Mrs. Mukherjee had given her 5th grade class “Danny, the Champion of the World,” by Roald Dahl.

I felt a lot like Danny in many a ways. I was a lonely child, but an imaginative one and thereby a satisfied one. I trusted people and often took their words for what they were. I thought about the consequences to things, and had learned to cook, and do other things boys without mothers often did, and yet much of my mind - like Danny’s - was befuddled with mysteries of the world and longings of faraway places.

Read More