always crack my knuckles and think of Pablo Neruda when people want to know about
It reminds me of what Neruda had to say about the Earth:
Earth remains silent, it will never
divulge all its names, or its gamut
of languages; receiving
conceiving, it toils and says nothing.
I was born with
a lock of white hair, but friends tell me that the gods confiscated the wisdom
that should have come with it. Funny! I have witty friends.
have worked as journalist in India and the US, starting as a cub reporter for
The Times of India and much later working for a newspaper and a literary
portal in the USA. In between - and even now - I freelance for several publications
in India and abroad.
When I am not stringing words or hopping around
with my valise and camera in sandy terrains or snowy mountains, you will catch
me peeling potatoes for a lavish meal. Or, stitching a dress and knitting a scarf.
If only God had asked me what I wanted - I would have been a farmer
who was also a writer; my hands stained with wet earth and deep blue ink.