Saturday, 23 August 2014


 I was averse to begin my tryst with the role as a writer with my autobiography, for two reasons.

Firstly, I did not find the material for the book interesting. There was nothing dramatic or captivating about my life or my career. It was a run-of-the-mill kind of topic.

Secondly, by stating truth on several issues, I did not want to lose the few relations and friends I happened to have and speak the truth I must, if I undertook to write my autobiography. I let it rest, the best way, in my case, to win friends and influence people! Dale Carnegie would turn in his grave, if he read this!

Was I being dishonest? Maybe. Was I frightened? Maybe. Was I being disloyal to the cause of free writing? Maybe.

The simple truth is I was already plagued by diffidence and lack of self-confidence vis-à-vis the new cap I was going to don. I did not want to begin the arduous journey on a disastrous note, I mean story, when I was not confident whether I could handle the task at all.

After discussing with my guardian angel and telling her unequivocally that I would not be beginning with my autobiography, I pondered for several days. My primary concern was whether I could sustain my writing skills, expression, etc. over the length of a long story, a novel. I decided to take up a topic, albeit oft repeated, and test my alleged skills against it. Thus, I embarked upon my first-ever novel, which I would later christen “Dance of Life”.

Wait for my next blog to learn how I grappled with my “Dance of Life”.

Be seeing you...