A writer’s foremost occupation is not to write, but to make peace with not having written enough. If only an unwritten page were as unforgiving as an unmet deadline, my writing routine wouldn’t always be the first to fall by the wayside.
As if to atone for the guilt, but primarily to create the illusion of accountability (the ultimate impetus for every writer), I have decided to offer a glimpse of what I plan to write in the months to follow.
What you can expect to read here in the time to come (in no particular order):
Notes on the enchanting winter season: A roundup of all the things I love about the winter season, its remarkable ability to imbue a magical stillness to life, and how I spend the large part of a year waiting for these few weeks of sheer delight.
Social life post-COVID: It was the pandemic that finally freed me from the crippling effects of social anxiety and unrelenting introversion. This serendipitous phase of prolonged social isolation has been outstanding. I’m now detailing out a plan to survive the onslaught of social expectations as the world gets back on its feet.
Why I don’t post on social media: As a relatively early adopter of social media, I was also early to incur the damage. So, I took a giant step back from putting myself out there. But is it ever as simple as it seems? Sometimes, the best way to seek attention is to not ask for it. I explore the layered psychosocial facets of my social media shyness.
Bangalore vs. Delhi: Born and raised in New Delhi, I never saw myself living anywhere but here. I hated Delhi for many of those years (what’s not to hate about the jostling crowds, the toxic air, the all-too-familiar danger lurking round every corner), but it had always remained my only home. However, my relationship to the city has changed significantly since I started spending a lot of time in Bangalore.
Who is a writer? One of the greatest challenges of my everyday existence is to explain what I do for work. Even to myself, sometimes. I started working from home long before it was fathomable as anything other than being ‘jobless’. And, then, to be a writer! What does it mean to be a writer? When does one stop becoming a writer to finally be one? I will write about that, why (and how) I started writing, and how you, too, could gain from being a writer.
What I’ve learnt about food (and my body) in the last 12 years of being my mother’s editor: My mother is a nutrition consultant who also happens to write prolifically. The difference between her writing and mine is that she is an author while I am a writer (a useful distinction). Every author can do with an efficient copyeditor, and I have been hers for very many years. I edit her weekly columns and book manuscripts, and I dare say I’m pretty well-informed about nutrition. Not only will I share some of that wisdom, but I will go on to explore my relationship with food, my body, my health anxiety, and my mother. In the meanwhile, you can check out my mother’s publication Diet Matters.
Women I admire: This, I hope, will be a series of interviews I’ve long wanted to do. I have a few women in mind. Some writers, some artists, some others, all ardently admirable. And then there are women I may not get to interview, but I will speak of my love for them nonetheless.
On ageing: Defying age is what we, especially as women, learn to do with an expertise. I write on the phenomenon of ageing as my skin begins to sag and my hair begins to grey at a pace faster than I can ignore. While my contemporary with a salt-and-pepper beard basks in his newfound attractiveness, I obsessively peruse the Internet for the best retinol serum. How do I reclaim my self-worth at the fag end of my childbearing years, when I don’t even want children?
To be a woman in Delhi: I expound on what it means to live a ‘half life’ as a woman in Delhi, the infamous rape capital of the country. The state of public restrooms and the ways of the public transit system in the city may just hold the key to all problems of mindset and discourse.
Monogamy, marriage, misogyny: My thoughts on the institution of marriage have evolved greatly in the last decade. In the absence of any clear answers, I write about how I make sense of legalized monogamy in an intellectual, emotional and experiential capacity. In this inherently misogynistic institution, I write about the important role of the personal as political.
The age of work identity:
Stranger: Hi, I’m <name that I’ll forget a second later>. Nice to meet you.
Me: I’m Richa. Nice to meet you, too.
Stranger: So, Richa, what do you do (for work)?
That happens to be the beginning (and end) of every conversation with every person I have met and am yet to meet. In the post-industrial age of automation, my worth is measured by the quality of work that I do and the ‘value’ that I add. As a woman, my pride stems from no longer needing to be introduced as wife/daughter. I explore why this may not be as liberating as it sounds, and what may be an effective alternative to social introductions.
With a sense of accountability in tow, I shall now sign off. If there’s anything in particular you’re eager to read from the aforementioned list, or a new angle you’d like me to explore, please leave a comment.
See you soon.
The topics are intriguing even in 2022. Hope this comment nudges you to write them fast. I am waiting to read them at this location. :)
I love the title and looking forward to articles on social media, aging, marriage, food and work identity.