THE 'UNICORN' ON MY SHELF

There are many things in my room that tell my story: books that taught me, pens that outlasted notebooks, and souvenirs from places I’ve barely been to. But among them sits one humble, fading magazine: Unicorn, Vol. 16, July 2025.

At first glance, it looks like any other literary magazine: a soft green cover, a splash of yellow petals, and a few promising titles. But for me, it is more than printed pages bound in glossy paper. It is the moment my words first took flight beyond the confines of my notebook. It is where my voice, once shy and unsure, found a place to belong.

I still remember holding that issue for the first time, the thrill of seeing my name in print, the disbelief that someone, somewhere, thought my words were worthy of sharing. That feeling does not fade easily. It sits quietly in your heart like a small light that refuses to go out.

But this magazine is not just about my debut. It is also about her, Dr. Romila Chitturi, the woman behind Unicorn. The one who saw something in my writing when I was still figuring out what that “something” was. She did not just edit my work; she believed in it. And when someone believes in your words, they also believe in you.

If I am still here today, writing blogs, weaving poems, chasing stories, it is because she gave me that first nudge. Unicorn was not just a publication; it was my literary homecoming.

Now, every time I glance at it on my shelf, with its slightly bent corners and the nostalgic smell of paper, I smile. It reminds me where it all began, with a few words, a magazine, and someone who decided to believe. And it reminds me that beginnings, no matter how small, can spark a lifetime of courage and creation.

This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2025, prompt "pick one object in your room, write about its story and why it matters to you."