I’m still here. Really. Not dead, not faded away. Just somewhat pre-occupied with life and baby. Just tired.
Life goes on, though. The baby’s now 8 months old. He’s sitting up, eating semi-solids and blabbing away at 3 am. In between stealing nicks at his fingernails with a mini swiss-knife (who knew cutting a baby’s nails would be so difficult and that they would grow SO fast?), trying to entice him with khichdi and inventing games to stimulate his already visible super-intelligence, I’m also getting some writing done.
In the last few months, besides my regular gigs, I’ve had articles in the Guardian Weekly, DNA (Pune) and the Herald (Goa). Plus, I’m editing a charity newsletter (for a fee, of course), planning a column for a newspaper and dreaming of street photography and being India’s answer to Garance Doré (and Scott). All this usually happens between 8 pm – 11 pm most nights (or 2.30 am yesterday, if you must know), with baby-wake-up-breaks in between. Tired, who me?
Next year, you’re going to see my byline in some leading newspapers, the big glossies and popular news websites. Sales in the bag yet? Nope. But by year end, they might be. They just might be.
I hope to be blogging more frequently in November. It’ll be colder, baby’ll sleep better, I’ll have loads of free time. Yes, that sounds like a plan.
But in case you don’t hear from me, please don’t strike me off your blogroll.
See you soon. Promise.