India, June 5 -- There was a time, not very long ago, when people would ask me, "What do you do?" and I would say, a tad shyly, because in my opinion, what I did wasn't yet the biggest thing after sliced bread or before Google - "I write." But apparently, it was a big thing then. Not everyone could coherently string thoughts and communicate them with clarity and panache. Not everyone could weave narratives that touched hearts. So when I said I wrote, people's eyes would widen with amazement, some dropped their jaws, and others looked at me as if I could stand apart even in a carnival.
Writing, at that time, was as wondrous an occupation as chasing fireflies in the dark - elusive, luminous, and ignited from within. It breathed on its own an...