I grew up in Berhampore, the only place I call home. The rest are only residences. I spent countless afternoons reading books as Ma spoke fondly of more new plants in her garden. Neither Baba shared her enthusiasm, nor I inherited her love of plants, flowers, and nature. Her garden misses her warmth, care, and love as much as we feel its absence in our daily lives.
Last afternoon, I came home from my in-laws’ house in the same town. The kid couldn’t wait to spend the weekend with his grandfather, who he calls Dadan. Today, something unusual happened. The kid spent this morning gazing and querying about trees and flowers. He refused to move away, mesmerized by the greenery. A decade after her demise, she has her successor in her six-year-old nature-loving grandson. If only I could turn back time and make them meet, the boy and his Dimma would’ve made a perfect team.
I’ve been unreachable and unresponsive for quite a while now. What started as a ligament tear in the knee 1.5 months ago was diagnosed as a probable case of early osteoarthritis some weeks back. Unfortunately, the blood tests, X-Ray, and MRI reports led to a more complicated scenario. While I’m trying to stay brave through this turbulent phase, pretending to find humor in living with pain as a constant companion, it’s both scary and depressing. I’ve stayed away from social media for a while now while fighting this personal battle.
Swollen fingers led to a no-writing phase for almost a month. It’s both frustrating and depressing. Yet, for once, I didn’t fret over the lost time and opportunities. Instead, I focused on reading some delightful books and treading on the path to recovery. It’s a long and slow process, but I’m not letting it affect my resolve to return to normalcy soon.
Amidst such a gloomy ambiance, we decided to celebrate my son’s sixth birthday with our families at my husband’s ancestral home yesterday. He was basking in the love of his grandparents on his special day. The look on his face was priceless. It’s so difficult to believe that the kid is growing up so fast. Wasn’t it just yesterday that he was born?
On 13th September, my blog completed four years. It’s been an incredible journey so far, and I only hope it gets better from here. I extend my heartfelt gratitude to everyone who chose to be a part of my journey.
October is the month of Durga Puja, and I can’t wait to restart my writing journey. But enjoying the festival with my family tops my priority list this year. Until we meet again, take care and stay safe.
The acceptance of a first pitch is quite special. Blogchatter selected my pitch on four life-altering books that I feel every creator/artist/writer must read to nurture their creative streak. I wrote this post straight from the heart while recovering from a ligament tear in my left knee. The past three weeks were difficult as I struggled at every small step (literally and metaphorically). I’m grateful for the company of books by Anne Lamott, Elizabeth Gilbert, Natalie Goldberg, and Julia Cameron. I hope creators/writers find value in these words.
I’m sharing a snippet from the post and the original link.
“2020 was my year of ‘unlearning.’ As I wrapped up an MFA-creative writing course by the end of the year, I understood how unlearning facilitates making space for new learnings. Books by Lisa Cron taught me how to write a compelling story, Robert McKee honed my dialog writing skills, and Charles Baxter enlightened me on the ‘show, don’t tell’ aspect of storytelling as I aced one topic after the other. Hola! I got my certificate and was ready to introduce my honed craft to the world.
Or so I thought! No one told me that the craft of writing or any form or creativity crumbled if the creator wasn’t aware of the necessary skills for survival. During this period, I discovered four books that taught me ways to nurture my creativity and conquer my fears and insecurities as a writer.“
The full article can be read here.
June was a great month, and I spent some memorable time with my family as we celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary. However, like everything that must come to an end, those good times gave way to a difficult phase. First, my in-laws left, and then the husband resumed his work. It was essential the kid, me, and Baba agreed to stay back because the kid looked devastated. Before we could adjust to the change, I fell sick and caught a stomach infection.
Work had to take a back seat as I tried to ensure that the kid didn’t miss his online classes while gathering enough energy to battle my sickness. After a fortnight, things improved, and I began this month with a paid assignment after a long time. I focused so much on the second Raya Ray novel that I stopped taking up any other project for months together. I wrote a couple of short stories (I haven’t written one since the MFA course finished) and submitted them to a couple of international magazines. Let’s which what’s in store for me – acceptance or rejection. I also have an exciting idea for my next book; I hope to initiate the process before month-end.
While it feels great to share the professional updates, I’ve always written snippets of my personal life on the blog. After a long time, the husband was in town on 1st July – Doctor’s day. While I celebrate the man on every possible occasion, circumstances have made such opportunities selective and family-friendly. I took him out for coffee, and conversations flew to applaud the doctor and his colleagues relentlessly working as Covid warriors for the past 1.5 years.
The third wave is already knocking at the door. Places have opened up, and people are flocking in huge numbers by breaking covid protocols. The second wave has up a reality check of a crumbling healthcare system. Let’s not worsen the situation further. Please mask up, get the vaccine doses, and maintain social distancing. Until we meet again, stay safe and take care.