It has always given me an immense sense of satisfaction and accomplishment when I have finished fixing something that has been non functional for some reason or built something. When nothing else is there, I look for opportunities to untie knots in ropes, strings and whatever that I would get my hands on, but the opportunities to do so are a bit rare.

Just after eid, after taking care of fixing at home, I realized the overwhelming sense of satisfaction that over came me. It was euphoric. I was resting by mum and told her how I felt. She was no stranger to the feeling. She smiled and told me my father has said the same to her several times and that her father too, was a person of the same sort. Always fixing things.

What surprised me, or rather left me a bit shocked was that when I am engrossed in the practice of fixing something, my hands and fingers work with an almost surgical accuracy when even working on the smallest components. However, strangely, I have a writing that is generally very tough to comprehend and there have been occasions when even I have had trouble reading my own handwriting. I cannot write, I cannot draw. Yet I am thankful for all that I have achieved despite the the (drastic) effects of these shortcomings.

I wonder if I would have been the same person if I had a different set of hand traits.