Who are you?

It’s only when I crossed 40 that I realized I should do the thing I love the most, to write. So you could say it’s only since the last few years that I have no hesitation in calling myself a writer.

What do you write?

At the moment equal doses of fiction and nonfiction. Some years back it was only fiction and I did get success but not in the amounts I craved. So, to not let despair overwhelm me, I also began to dabble in non fiction—features on places, peoples, events, wild life, and even that strange but perfectly satisfying exercise called creative nonfiction.

Why do you write what you write?

I think I have a viewpoint on things and people that would interest others.

Why should we read what you write?

You know most of us writers lug around this baggage of self importance, this deep conviction that what we have to say is of critical value to the rest of humanity. I am no exception. Except that sometimes I hear twenty or thirty voices in my head, howling with laughter, and asking me, so, you think you are indispensable, you think the world will stop turning even for a few seconds when you are gone?

Is the world a better place because of what you write?

In little ways, yes. My son who is an absent minded genius in computer software suddenly put down his beer when we were having dinner one evening, when he visited me after a long gap. “You know, Dad. I enjoy reading your articles.” That’s it. That was all he said. We moved on to other topics. Mostly about his recent struggles and successes.

Some of my neighbors have featured in my articles. They glanced through them and for about two and half seconds a light shone in their eyes and their cheeks went a little pink.

A lot of characters in my nonfiction–like snakes, cattle, crocs–haven’t had a chance to read my articles. But I suspect they would be pleased to know that one more writer has joined a few writers to write about their usefulness to the environment.
Years ago, a sister in law, from the Our Lady of Poor Sisters gang and a teacher in a reputed school in Mumbai, told me that she and her gang laughed non stop for about five minutes after they read one of my humorous articles in The Times of India (It was about my wife and Saddam Hussein).

Things like that.

Of course there’s this big dream that I will one day emulate Updike’s or Greene’s success. Maybe in another fifty weeks or years. But I will.

And thank you, Kathryn, for being patient with all this rambling.

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Previously on the Five Minute Interview.