Ever since I can remember I enjoyed writing. In school it was essays, limericks, or letters to friends and family which would be interspersed with little drawings, verses or even cartoons. Some friends confess to keeping them for long. Yes, as Anais Nin says, I do love to taste life twice- once in the 'now' and again while writing and reading it. But that is solely my own pleasure. I was too shy to share it with the world, thinking it was not good enough and also because I have been very reserved about my emotions which do get exposed to the reader.
Since childhood I was like an emotional sponge soaking up whatever was happening to others around me and the empathy led to a heightened emotional receptivity. I would get into the minds and lives of others, conjuring up stories about them. But all this I kept closeted, afraid of ridicule. I have lost many writings this way. When my younger son, Siddhant left for Mumbai to make a career in music I gave him whatever I could find and gave it to him to use it as and how he pleased. A year ago I asked for them back so I could compile them all for him. That was a new beginning for me. More on what followed tomorrow.
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