HOW I BECAME A WRITER

I studied languages abroad and during high school. I received accreditation in English, French, Spanish, German and Gujarati (don’t ask me to calculate anything, I don’t know how). Thinking myself an aficionado of arguing, I thought I’d go to law school. Instead, I graduated with a BA in Political Science and International Development Studies, followed by a Certificate in Public Relations Management. For me, becoming a lawyer lost its appeal when writing began to shine as my strength. From articles, broadcasts, blogs, political essays and more, my love for writing grew. My dream was to write a work of fiction that I could call my own, and though I thought myself ready, my body had other plans.

WHAT HAPPENED

A thirteen-year battle with epilepsy ended coincidentally at the start of the global pandemic. Months before, I had felt defeated by epilepsy, and now just as the pandemic was beginning, I felt ready to conquer the world. Those who knew me saw the end of my epilepsy as a ‘triumph over tragedy’. In truth, though I was physically healed, I remained mentally torn. Most of my short-term memory was destroyed, and a hollow void replaced my inner strength. However, instead of making use of typical therapy treatments, I wrote. I gathered what was left of my courage, and along with the help of my loved ones and fellow writers, I began writing my novel.

MY NOVEL

Forgot to Remember is about an unconventional young Indian woman who flees home to avoid marriage. She wakes up one day to discover that amazingly, all of her dreams have come true, but doesn’t remember how.

As the author of Forgotten to Remember, I am personally aware of what my main character is experiencing. This is her story that explores epilepsy, self-identity, perception, belonging, and even fine dining. And yes, as the author, I am also an expert on these topics of which I have grown to love, and love to grow.

MY WORDS OF WISDOM

Hope is a very real thing. I asked for help, and I found hope in my writing. If you’re feeling lost, use your voice and ask for help. There was a time I felt I had lost everything, and no one understood. This wasn’t true.

I lost my memory, not my voice.