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This has probably been the longest that I have gone without updating this blog. Somewhere along the line, this space lost its identity. When I began blogging over a decade ago in 2004, the medium was full of promise. It was a safe space for observations and commentary on Bombay, my city. Then it became about life in England. Books and parenting and writing crept in along the way. And now all those things are such an integral part of my life that they don’t warrant special notes online.

Or for that matter, off-line.

I’ve been actively engaged in the pursuit of writing since the age of eight. I would have never foreseen that this is what I would do for a living, that words would become my bread and butter, literally food for thought and sustenance. But that’s what it has come to, and the thought gives me unbridled joy. Writing is the one thing that sustains me. More than reading or gardening or painting, scribbling in my journal or dog-eared notebook keeps me alive. It allows me to smile.

This year, I broke new ground with writing published in The Atlantic, Vice, Scroll.in, The Wire, Culture and Cuisines, among others. Next year promises to be equally shiny and I can’t wait to get back to it (after the holidays).

As the year sets, my resolutions/goals for the next twelve months are firmly in place. I have my word for 2016 and it encompasses everything I want in my life. I might have used it before, but that doesn’t matter, because it fits perfectly right now.

I want More. More work, more writing, more travel, definitely more art. I want more essays, more poetry, and lots more money from my work. Some of this is contradictory (more money from poetry? No chance!) but it will all work out.

Because 2016 is going to be the year of more kisses, more holding hands, more games and practicing cha-cha in the kitchen.

I feel that rare sense of sunny optimism that always comes at the end of the year. Do you?


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