I was the youngest and the fourth child of our family. I don’t remember my parents teaching me the letters of the alphabet. As it happens in almost every home, I learned a lot when my parents taught my brothers and sister. I was very eager to learn and read most of their textbooks. My favorite time was at night. When we finish our dinner and our mother was done with her day’s chores. we all sat around her or lay nearby her looking at the stars. Either we listened to the play coming on the radio or stories told by our mother. She had unlimited stories in her kitty, mostly from Ramayana and Mahabharat. Lying under the starlit sky we wandered in the imaginary land as we listened to her. Then I started reading the weekly Kannada magazine named `Sudha’ which had a serial story called `Devi’. After a few episodes that serial was banned because the contents appeared to be not suitable for family reading. We were in Coorg which is my native place and I was in the third standard at that time. I started exploring the school library. It was a government school and had quite a decent library. It had pocket-size biographies of all great leaders and again I was living in my dreamland where I was brave and honest like those leaders. My school appreciation was a tremendous encouragement for me. Teachers used to show my Kannada handwriting to others and used to say in Kannada “Muthu Ponisida Haage ide’’ (Moti ka haar Jaise lag Raha hai”).

Then we shifted to Mangalore due to my father’s new job. The convent I joined had a good library. The teaching and discipline were commendable. Again, I read all the books in the library and I was very good at studies also. When I was in the seventh standard, I wrote a small play and directed it. Once our teacher was busy for some reason and told me to write the question and answers on the blackboard so that others can copy them and told me to monitor the class. I was busy writing the answers on the blackboard and again read them to the class when I saw a stranger watching our class.

After some time, the Principal called me to her chamber and introduced me to the stranger who was an educational inspector. The inspector was very much impressed by me and exclaimed “this girl will achieve a high position someday.”

I joined an English medium school again for high school. Till then I studied in Kannada medium and I was the topper of our school. In this new school, I became very conscious and started having some kind of complex because I was unable to speak in English. My classmates were very supportive but I failed to use the opportunity to improve my English. I continued talking to them in Kannada and although I did not learn to speak in English, their Kannada speaking skills improved because of me.

One day our Kannada teacher gave us a topic and told us to write an essay as homework. Some of my classmates requested me to help them in writing the essay. I agreed willingly and wrote five different essays on the same topic. The next day they happily copied the essays on their notebook. After two days when the teacher came, he called all the five and asked them who helped them to write the essay. After initial denial, they took my name. Although he praised my ability to write five different essays on the same topic, he made me realize the mistake I had done through my act. Then he asked me whether I write anything else. I showed my collection of poems. He showed them to other Kannada teachers and they liked them very much. Soon I was appointed a cabinet minister of the school for the Kannada Language.

After 10th I joined a Pre-university college. Even here poems written by me were appreciated and they got published in the college magazine. I represented our college during Inter college Yuva Kavi Sammelan. Most of the students had written poems related to love and romance. The chief guest told us to write poems in other zones like Veer Ras etc. The next day our poems were published in the newspaper with our group photo and name. I can’t reproduce the poem here because it was in Kannada but I can write the gist of the poem. A girl says that her heart is stolen by her lover so she searched for a replacement and stole his heart. Now she is having all the emotions and feelings of her lover and now she has become one with him. The last line was “ eega naanu naanagade …neene aagiddene’… (` mein abhi mein na rahi. tum bangayi hoon’.)

The next day when I got into my regular city bus for my college there was a surprise waiting for me. Just when I climbed the bus a group of boys started shouting ` Naanu eega Naanagade…neene aagiddene’. It was a very embarrassing moment for me. These shoutings continued for a few more days. Then I thought I will not write anything romantic and wrote some poems in Veer Ras zoner. During the next inter-college Yuva Kavi sammelan I recited the veer ras poem. But to my utter disappointment, this time the new chief guest said students of your age should write poems about, beauty, love and romance. I got confused and stopped writing altogether.

One funny incident happened during that year. Our Kannada class had more than 100 students. We preferred to sit at the end of the classroom which was safer for us to chat. One day our Lecturer told us to summarize the full paragraph in 3 or 4 sentences. Though we were busy in our talks I went through the paragraph but nobody in our group wrote down the summary. Our Lecturer noticed this and asked me to read the summary I had written. I stood up and started to read my notebook which was totally blank. My friends started laughing and the Lecturer was confused. She asked my friends “she is reading it correctly. Then why are you laughing’? She came to check my book and my heart skipped a beat. At that moment the bell rang and I was saved.

During my graduation days, I did not write much. But that was the time of crush and infatuation. I wrote some anonymous letters on behalf of some of my friends. My friends took my help to write letters to their fiancées. Even today they remind me about those letters. Once I planned a prank on my friend and wrote a letter to her impersonating her fiancee. That prank did not go as I planned and at the end grooms side came to know about it and nicknamed me as `Brides letter Ganda’ (bride’s letter husband).

During my post-graduation days, I met my future husband Binej in the campus. After we took our relationship seriously, we wrote letters to each other every day for the next seven years till we got married. Even after marriage, I wrote a letter to him but now, they are more of letting go of my frustrations. Whenever we quarreled, I failed to express my hurt or feelings and kept quite. Binej usually comes to normal self after the quarrel but I take one or two days to come to my normal self. I used to write all my agonies in the letter. After sometime Binej got fed up with it and did not bother to read it. Then I invented new methods like keeping the letter in his lunch box or pin it to the inner pages of the newspaper etc. Once I pasted it on the wall of the washroom. His friends used to tease him that someday he may by mistake forward the letter to his higher authorities at the office thinking it to be some official letter.

My mother always wanted me to write. Her dream became a reality when Wings of hope was started. I started compiling the monthly newsletter and I was very serious about it. The whole month I thought only about it and after the compilation, my husband used to edit it. When the final print out arrived, it was like delivering the baby after the nine months of care. This process continued every month for years. Then I sent one of my articles which was as usual edited by my husband to The Hitavada. I was delighted when it got published. This continued with a few more articles and then I stopped sending them to the Newspaper.

Now I write whenever some incidents prompt me or churn me from inside. Even now I can’t speak proper English and vocabulary is very limited. I struggle to express my feelings and emotions explicitly. But I have lots of stories to share and something inside me urges me to write. I have to listen to that feeling to be happy. My father and everyone at home were voracious readers. My husband is crazy about books and writes well too. Before marriage, I read a lot. My husband gifts me books but now I take a lot of time to finish them but they are the finest gifts I have ever received. Sometimes I cry going through the depth of the words and thank Binej for those wonderful books. I have misplaced and lost a few gold ornaments but I never cried for that. But whenever a book is lost, we both feel sad.

Hope I will be able to share my stories through words as this is my dream. I Hope Binej will continue to edit or correct whatever I have written. Just saw the quote `If you have a heartbeat, there’s still time for your dreams’’…My heart is still beating….
I always believe in the possibilities.