From Deepa's Desk

  I sit in front of the laptop and stare at the screen in frustration and despair. I have been fighting a creative block since many days. The experts say that there is no use fighting it, and that it is best to relax and step back whenever one is facing a creative block. I feel restless if I don’t attempt to write. I feel frustrated when I attempt and fail. Oh, the turmoil! In moments of sheer desperation, negativity rises to the surface and whispers, ‘All this struggle, and for what exactly? What do you gain by writing? Money? Followers? Subscribers? Fame? Recognition? Is it worth it – to struggle mentally, to write page after page, blog after blog, book after book, only to get single-digit views and readership?’ I can’t deny that I have succumbed to such negativity time and again. I have questioned my existence as a writer. I have wondered whether I can be called a writer, whether I justify the term. Here is a candid truth – the process of writing has given me more mome...

  How did you celebrate 31 st December? My friend messages me. I spent it at home. I reply, the words at home evoking a strange nostalgia in me. I am one of those fortunate souls for whom the word ‘Home’ means several places. I have had to say goodbye to four homes, and every goodbye hurt differently. But today as I write this from the place that is my current home, I look around and realize that perhaps I am where I am exactly supposed to be. There are books in every room. Sprawled on the couch, gathering dust on the tv shelf, on chairs that I keep beside my bed, inside my wardrobe, beneath the coffee-table – they are everywhere. And they make my house a home. I spend evenings with the books, lost in the deep recesses of their timeless wisdom. For me, home means sitting on my favorite chair at my usual spot with a book in hand and getting lost in a beautiful and mystical world. Home is the place where my habits have a habitat.   Home has come to mean routines. ...