I used to chase inspiration like a butterfly — darting from one idea to another, waiting for something “big” or “worthy” enough to write about. But over time, I’ve come to realize that ideas don’t always arrive with fanfare. They often whisper, not shout. And almost always, they hide in plain sight.
Inspiration doesn’t need an occasion. It slips into morning light filtered through old curtains. It echoes in overheard conversations at cafes, or in the pause between two songs you didn’t realize you needed. Sometimes it’s in the quiet — the kind that presses gently against you when you walk alone, phone forgotten, thoughts wandering.
I once found an idea while watching my father quietly rotate a tyre at his workshop — hands covered in grease, mind somewhere far away. It wasn’t about machines. It was about rhythm. Repetition. Intimacy. How craft is love made visible. That became a thread I tugged at, and it led to an essay on why the work we do with our hands is often more honest than the words we speak.
Inspiration lives in the mundane. The chipped cup you refuse to throw away. The moment your bus stops in traffic and you lock eyes with a stranger who smiles. That sudden memory of a song your mother hummed while folding clothes. All of these — little things — ask for our attention. And when we give it, they open like portals.
At MangoSoul, I hope to collect these small portals. To write not just when I feel profound, but especially when I feel ordinary. Because that’s where the soul speaks clearest — in the quiet, everyday spaces we forget to look.
So here’s to soft ideas, slow moments, and the beauty of the barely noticed.
— Ambica
mangosoul 