Since my mother couldn’t stop me (and didn’t want to stop me!) from scribbling down poems all around the house, on every scrap paper that I could find, she gifted me a beautiful diary for my eighth birthday to jot down my thoughts and my poems. There has been no looking back since then.
It would be a 25-year-long wait before my book reaches the shelves of a book store, but every moment of that journey has been an adventure. Even now, every day, I head to my writing desk, not as a published award-winning author, but as an eight-year-old who wants to play with words.
Here, in this online home, you can find my books, writings, drawings, and experiments from those everyday escapades.
- Archana Sarat