I’ve been a writer for most of my life—and not just my adult life. In the small North Indian town where I once lived, I started working for the local paper in my summer holidays when I was 15 (they allowed you to do things like that back then).
I was supposed to stay on the News Desk and learn how to edit copy, and that’s what I did mainly. But every now and then, a reporter would be MIA and there would be a story to cover. It was a small set up, and the Desk Head was also the allotter of assignments. He knew I was chomping at the bit, dying to get out and interview people and tell their stories, so he’d turn to me and say: “Shampa, would you like to...?” I’d be at the door before he’d finished his sentence. After a while, he stopped saying even those few words. Instead, he’d just hand me a paper with the details and indicate the door. I couldn’t get out fast enough.
Nobody minded. Actually, let me rephrase that. The reporters were relieved. They got to save their fuel money and have someone else trudge to godforsaken places and cover what they considered highly boring subjects such as ICSE toppers, new departments in the university and the safety of swimming pools. My boss was happy the reports were being filed. As for me, I was in seventh heaven, especially when I saw my byline in the paper the next day. I was much more excited about that than about my first pay check which, if memory serves me right, was for the princely sum of Rs 350.
But why am I talking about this now? Because, suddenly, so many decades later, I’ve become a reluctant writer. I put off my assignments every chance I get. I sit down at my laptop to write, but instead scroll through the news, play a few games of Mahjong, read my old stories and then get up and go to where my current passion is playing out—jewellery making. Instead of words, I’ve taken to stringing together stones and beads.
This new love came out of the blue. Or maybe not quite. I’ve always liked accessories and have often designed my own. But I always got someone else to make them for me. A few months ago, I decided to change that. I invited the karigars home and sat down with them in my living room, mixing and matching stones, trying out new designs, learning knotting and threading techniques.
Before I knew it, we’d created 55 neck pieces, and I was hooked. Of course, there were ups and downs. Not every piece worked out how I’d envisaged it. But the items got sold at a pop-up, and now I’m working on Round 2. I don’t know how that will go. What I do know is that diving into unfamiliar territory, propelled by curiosity and enthusiasm, and learning a new skill—at this late stage in my life—is truly joyous.
Especially since this time round, I’m not learning because someone has decided that I must. I’m learning because I want to. And that adds a triple shot of motivation to the whole experience
Yes, I’ve read about cognitive stimulation and the other psychological advantages of learning new skills late in life. I know that neuroplasticity, which is the ability to create and reorganise neural pathways in response to new experiences, can be exercised like a muscle at all ages. I hope my pathways are getting stimulated and will keep me sharp and resilient in my dotage. For now, I’m just enjoying the ride. Maybe one day, I’ll even write about it.
shampadhar@gmail.com