Nothing to do, so I created something

"Boredom is the precursor to creativity. It's the space where the mind, tired of the status quo, begins to invent its own world,"

Manoush Zomorodi

Four hours on the road can feel restless, especially when I'm not the one driving. Not being able to sketch, no book to read, just the hum of the car and my own restless thoughts.

Somewhere between mile markers and mild boredom, I found myself scrolling through old text messages. That's when I stumbled upon a conversation that had quietly stretched across three years.

Back then, I was in and out of the hospital, navigating the aftermath of discovering a congenital complication and everything that followed it—surgeries, uncertainty, long waiting hours, and a mind that never seemed to stop overthinking. Most are aware that it was in the middle of it all, I decided to write my book. What I didn't mention was that, during that time, one person showed up consistently—in person and in my texts—armed with nothing more than lame jokes and even lamer puns.

And somehow, that was enough.

Those jokes—ridiculous, groan-worthy, utterly unserious—kept me grounded. They distracted me from spiralling thoughts and gave me something to look forward to, even on the hardest days. His lame-ness became a lifeline.

If there was one recurring theme in our conversations, it was the toilet roll.

Don't ask why. It just... became our thing. A code word. A running joke. A symbol of lightness in a period that felt anything but light.

Last year, I gifted him a beautifully wrapped toilet roll, complete with a label that read: "You are my roll model."

Corny? Absolutely. Sincere? Entirely.

Because in his own unintrusive way, he had changed how I saw life—showing me not to constantly limit myself, and to never be afraid to aim higher than I thought I could.

Despite years of childish banter revolving around toilet rolls, it had never once crossed my mind to publish them. Until that long, restless car journey.

Somewhere in those four hours, an idea sparked. Now I had something to do in the car.

By the time we reached home, I had devised a concept, created an Instagram account, mapped out post ideas, and—most importantly—named my toilet rolls. Midnight came and went, but I couldn't bring myself to unpack or get ready for bed. Instead, I sat alone at my desk, on that quiet evening, still in my travel-worn clothes, and started sketching.

And just like that, Rolland and Sheetal were born on Instagram (@rollandsheetal). They had not done much yet, but they would be delighted for a follow.

I'm not entirely sure this is the best time to start something new. I have a full-time job, I am currently writing and illustrating three books, and I've just committed myself to a book deal to illustrate a 14-book young readers series—work that will likely keep me fully occupied, at least, for the year ahead. But then again, if I don't start when the idea is fresh, when the excitement is alive, and when the urge to create feels almost insatiable... then when?

Some ideas don't wait for perfect timing. They arrive, unannounced, on long car rides.

So now I'm curious—what do one usually do on a 4-hour car journey?