As a Writer

Ever so often, I meet people who ask me what I do for a living. You should see the way their eyebrows go up whenever I say I'm a freelance writer. I can almost hear the thoughts that are being processed by their respective brains. ' Oh, so you don't have a real job. You're just a writer.' Now I know why such great writers like Jane Austen and almost everybody we are told to write like these days, were often scorned publicly when they said they were writers. I once thought that saying I was a poet would get me an ounce of respect. And what a mistake that was. ' A poet? So you sit and dream all day?' I was once asked. I honestly wanted to punch the great personality who asked me that. However I would like to set the record straight once and for all. I'm honestly fed up of justifying my stand as a freelance writer, why I chose to become one and everything else that follows. So here goes.

- A freelance writer is not someone who failed to get a 9-5 job. Instead it is someone who chose to make writing a profession- the hard way.

- Yes, I could have worked at a day job but prefer working in my pyjamas and cooking at the same time.

- What I earn isn't called pocket money. It's called a salary.

- Yes, there's plenty of competition. In fact, my competitors aren't confined to one country. I compete with writers on a global scale.

- Yes, writing is really a profession. And just because I'm my own boss doesn't mean that it isn't a full time job , so to speak.

- And no. Being a freelance writer doesn't mean I'm on a permanent holiday. It simply means that just like you I too have deadlines and cranky clients, perks and lots of over time as well.

The biggest drawback I would point out of a freelance writer's life is that you can never say where your next assignment is going to come from. Or WHEN. There were times when I would become really depressed at the lack of work. And then from somewhere would come around 5 different projects all at once, sweeping me in a flurry of work. There are other times when my brain refuses to dream or conjure up the kind of creativity a client expects from me. And there are others when my head wants to write but doesn't know what to. However, I've learnt to ride the wave, if I can say that. I realized that not having many projects at once wasn't such a bad thing after all. I usually don't have much time for writing poetry these days, which always plagues me with guilt because it was through poetry that I experienced the first joys of writing. I have a dozen ideas swarming in my head, and the best time to put them down is when I don't have other people's projects to work on. I also want to explore writing a few more stories for kids. Having one of my own means that I dream of becoming a better story teller for him as he grows older. And best of all, not having much work also means that I get to write this blog of mine. Which was started because somebody told me I was funny; another pal pepped me up by telling me I always had funny things to write about; so on and so forth. Honestly, I just wanted my little space on the web to spill out my thoughts and make sense of them as well as keep this outlet alive and kicking. Till next time..cheers

Anita & Me

By now, everybody who is dear to me knows only too well how much I love books. As a kid I used to tell my mom that I wanted to either marry a book store owner or a guy who had his own chicken farm ( yes I love my chickens too).. needless to say, I am now married to a man who has nothing in common with either of my childhood Prince Charmings! However, very rarely for me does a writer strike up something in my heart and mind, which makes me want to know more about the writer and read the particular book over and over again. It happened with Margaret Mitchell's Gone with the Wind, and with regard to writers; it happened when I read Anita Nair.

I first read Anita's 'The Better Man' when I was in college. I enjoyed the book and eagerly delved into Ladies Coupe. A few years back I chanced upon a masterpiece that she wrote called 'Mistress'. I loved the way she took the seven emotions ( if I recall it right) that are prevalent in Kathakali and weaved each chapter of the book around them. Soon, you forget that the characters themselves are all in the book; they become so realistic that they could very well have been your next door neighbours! I was a bit hesitant to pick up her book ' Good night and God Bless' because I assumed it would be a collection of essays. However, not having read Anita in a while, I picked up the book come what may. And how glad I am I did! The book turned out to be a series of blog entries like essays from Anita's everyday life, which were a delight to read. I loved a line in the book which states that Jeffrey Archer may be the only person who set methodically about becoming a writer- most other writers just stumble into it and dont wake up one fine day deciding they are going to become one. I completely agree. That one line made me remember how I used to pen poetry in my class, because I was bored listening to the teacher. Silly rhymes, nonsensical lines and childish topics eventually metamorphosed into a  reflective collection of poems; one that I am most proud of. I'm also glad that just like me Anita too eagerly waits to see and yap with her mother; the latter who will then within 5 minutes say something out of the way and tick Anita off- just like my own mom unfailingly does! Usually no trip of mine to India is complete without at least a 2 day altercation with my mom where we both wish we hadn't known each other at all!! Yes the women in my house at the ages of 27 and 50 are highly mature.

It was wonderful to get a peek into the inspirations behind Anita's books and especially how she did her research for 'Mistress'. I'm also delighted that she has suggested a whole list of books that are highly recommended by her and which I'm certain come with unforgettable lines that have all been inspired by real life itself. Something like Philip Larkin maybe? ' Parents, they fuck you up'. Or maybe Oscar Wilde- ' All women end up like their rmothers. That is their tragedy. No man ends up like his. That is his tragedy.' The really great writers have already written what you often thought about but never took the time to reflect upon.

Now that I'm done with ' Good night and God Bless', I'm wondering which book to pick up next. Charlie Chaplin's autobio, or Benazir Bhutto's? Or maybe Jhumpa Lahiri's ' Interpreter of Maladies' or maybe just maybe the last book in the Millenium trilogy? Aaah... such a delicious feeling to know that you have all the time in the world and so many books waiting to be read and devoured by you. By the way, Sudha Murthy's ' Wise & Otherwise' is highly recommended. Easy to digest language but more importantly, true stories that touch your heart. All along I assumed that the lady's ticket to fame was being the wife of Narayana Murthy, and imagine how stupid I felt when I found out that she had nine novels to her name and a few collections of short stories as well??

On a lighter note, I like the new look of the blog. The pink cheers me up just by looking at it. I dont know why the colour pink has to be looked down upon by most men. Its airy, light, summery and makes ANY woman look good!!

E-Books and Me?

This time on my trip to India, I picked up around 15 new books ranging from biographies to non fiction and fiction. Seeing me struggle while packing my luggage ( although an allowance of 20 kg may seem a lot, trust me it really isn't) , dad asked me ' Do you know that they have this new concept called an e-book? You really don't have to keep buying so many books like this.' That made me stop and think. Me and E-Books? That's like saying Bipasha and Katrina have become great friends, or that Tom Hanks cant act at all, or even that Godzilla and King Kong are now best friends. The comparisons may be a tad too much, but that's just how strongly I feel about e-books. Or how strongly I DON'T feel about them.

Besides being an old fashioned writer who isn't in favour of too many high tech gizmos around, I love the feel of a book. The pages between your fingers, the smell of a fresh new book or the slightly old feel of an aged book are a few things you just cannot have with an e-book reader. Its great to fall asleep with a book on your tummy and its a wonderful companion on any journey. It doesn't even need any batteries or charging and can last generations if looked after properly. Sometimes, I think that I would like to leave back a wonderful bookcase filled with all sorts of books for my children and grand children. Chancing upon books that belonged to an older member of the family and enjoying them at your own pace is a really good feeling. When I came across some books on Osho and an entire Brittanica encyclopedia collection that belonged to my dad's father; I remember being so astonished. Who even knew that papa had such eclectic and different taste in reading? Now whenever I am accused of reading books that half of mankind has never heard of, I smile thinking that I may have gotten these genes from my grand father. Likewise, on my mothers side; I have my grandpa who I fondly called Bigdaddy to thank for my interest in thrillers and westerns. The point I'm trying to make is that, I could sample a bit of their reading tastes simply because they invested in books which could last generations. I doubt if an e-book reader will have that kind of shelf life.

In a nutshell, I'm one of the few who aren't going to swoon when they see a Kindle or an I Pad. It won't make any difference whatsoever. But a bookstore full of promising books that are just waiting to be purchased and read? Now that's something which can always make my heart skip a beat and leave me with an empty wallet! :-)

Getting back on my Feet

The only catch about spending so much time with my family back there in Cochin is dealing with the severe mood swings I go through- in the first two weeks, I get so itchy that there's no work to do, and by the time its the last one week I have become so lazy that the thought of going back to Singapore and doing housework makes me just want to sob.

And SOB is what I did when I reached home after a long tiring flight. I must make a mention here of a 50 year old man on the same flight as me, who pounced on a student and an air hostess, making both listen to his long tales of smart investments, real estate deals and huge bank balance mid air. The poor student after listening to everything had just one question to ask- ' Where did you say you worked Sir?' To which the know it all guru replied ' That's a very rude question to ask. That means you weren't listening to anything I said.' Poor student figured that silence was better. To top it all, the guru had the gall to ask the student to take down a bag from the overhead compartment, citing an injured arm as the reason why he couldn't do it himself.  While an air hostess offered him some water, he wanted to know if it was spring water and where it was from. When the lady replied that the water was from the springs of Malaysia,  he refused to drink it at all!! Once we were all at the immigration counter, he snapped a chance to share his wisdom with the two pilots- one who giggled just spotting him and another smart looking Indian who had a huge smirk of boredom on his face. Once the two joined the rest of the cabin crew, the ladies giggled away to glory- the protocol of having to be nice to passengers means having to listen to long stories as well.

Anyways....back to my saga of opening the fridge at my place and finding it stuffed to the max. The house was in a mess too with my kids toys in the same position that they were in one month back. It struck me. A guy sees a messy place as relatively clean, whereas my discerning eyes can pick up every speck of dust. In spite of being so tired, I got down to doing some basic vacuuming and cleaning. Imagine my horror when hubby tells me he hasn't changed the bedsheets in a month!! I can  believe stories of the cave man behavior being predominant in men even now.

Monday's cooking saga being a blot on my otherwise good cooking record; I promised sis that I would make up for it during the week. I was as good as my word. I cooked up a yummy, dripping mozzarella cheese non veg lasagna for my sis ( I swore I wouldn't taste more than a spoon. Am I to blame for the fabulous cuisine the Italians created  which makes it very hard for me to keep my word?), banana pancakes( a great way to make use of over ripe bananas), blueberry pancakes this morning with butter and a trifle pudding with my signature blueberry compote. I simply love cooking and feeding people. I miss having my oven which offers greater flexibility to experiment with food.

Today is a Saturday and its raining.  Today is a no cooking day and tomorrow is good old appam and chicken stew. More next time...

Thoughts from Home

I'm weird. When I was in Singapore, I dreamed about getting away from the drudgery of house work and being with other adults other than my husband. Now that I am here away from my little flat, I find that its the only thing I think about all the time. Are my flowers ok, are my fishes alright, is the flat neat and tidy or is the kitchen a mess? I have a clear idea about how the place should look and I get so upset and irritated when something is out of place. But still Monica remains the more extreme character! How I wish I could snap my fingers and the flat would get magically clean on its own. I would have enough time for all the little things , that I miss doing so much.


I read a magazine once where it stressed the importance of having a life map in place. The focus should be equally placed on where you want to go in your career and also the levels you would like to reach in your relationships. I have been toying around with the idea of making one for a long time now, and perhaps someday I will when kiddo is not around. The idea of a life map fits in perfectly for someone who likes everything planned like me. Just what surprises life may instead have in store is a different thing altogether.


Everything at home still is much the same... Mom is still the one who says no to just about anything ( Ma can we have ice cream- NOOO. silence. after 2 minutes. Ma, can we have some ice cream?  I thought I said no??. ok. But we're taking some anyways..imagine my sister and me sitting with a whole pack of ice cream while mom shakes her head complaining about this generation and the two brats that she has raised!) Dad, who secretly loves getting surprise gifts, still puts on a small act when he gets one( Oh you didnt have to buy it..ohhhh, you shouldnt spend so much...)Nikki will still ask after she gets her huge bag of gifts- is this all? I thought you would get me this and that! She is so good at getting her way. My poor kid says the word pizza, because there's a pic of a pizza slice in one of his books. To him anything in a particular shape is a pizza- a slice of bread, a chappathi or even a samosa. To which my cunning little sister says- ' See, akka we should really order a pizza. Poor kuttu keeps saying pizza pizza all day'. Point proven. I know just how much pizza my kid will eat if i do order one. He will most likely admire the shape, take a nibble and then be off somewhere.. I wonder how many other poor sisters like me are being blackmailed into increasing the  profits of Dominoes? But despite my rant, I actually like buying these little things for my sister. Its always nice to be pampered, no matter what age you are, and even better when the purchase in question is on the expensive side!


Its so sweet to see how my little kid adores his young little aunt. His face lights up when he sees her and he gives her atleast ten hugs and kisses a day. The way he clings to her legs is so cute. It reminds me of how Nikki used to behave when she would see me come home after college. There's something so innocent about the way a child loves you- there's no pretense, no judgments made, just pure love. That must be why the saints and other holy people keep telling people to show love the way a child does. Love seriously gets harder as you grow up.