Why I Write?
I was raised in a middle-class family in New Delhi, India where education was key, fresh pomfret fish for dinner was a treat, and budget-conscious holidays in hill stations defined our summers. As a young girl, I was expected to apply myself at college, get a job that would allow me to be financially self-reliant, get married, and have kids—in that order.
Given this worldview, “writing” was a bourgeois activity, encouraged by my mom, who was an avid fan of Reader’s Digest and Harlequin romances.
My Week at Hedgebrook . . .
“We began calling what we do at Hedgebrook—the practice of nurturing and nourishing women writers in residence—’radical hospitality’ about ten years ago because we needed a way to describe why we do what we do. To help others understand that taking care of a woman writer so she can focus on her work is still, even now, a revolutionary, radical act. As is giving her time to focus on her writing instead of taking care of others.” -Hedgebrook flyer
As a wife, a mother, a daughter to an aging parent, a daughter-in-law to another aging parent, and an active volunteer in the larger Indian community, the demands on my time are endless. I relish my role in my busy bustling life but my writing— a passion I discovered late in life—often falls by the wayside.