When I was in school, I wanted to become a software engineer. Sadly, my relationship with Science was not quite smooth, even though I loved Mathematics. Then I joined college and when asked what I intended to take up as a career, it was singing. To me, singing was the most convenient career option. I also started learning the violin. Again, didn’t work out. I decided to separate talent from career instead of confusing the two. Towards the end of junior college days, I started growing fond of the media space. So, with nothing more to think about I left Goa for Mumbai and completed a course in Mass Media. During the three-year course, little did I know where I was heading, and that’s something most of us face during college days.
Towards the end of my second year, I developed an interest in journalism. Completed an internship to figure out where I fit best – reporting, writing or editing. Reporting and editing seemed like my areas.
It’s been two years since I completed my graduation. Today, I’m working with a digital agency as a content writer and as a freelance journalist with The Goan on Saturday. It’s funny how I never considered writing as an option.
During school days, I would never read. A fresh novel would sit in my bag every week, and was treated like an untouchable. Even during college days I continued the same trend. It was in my third year at Sophia College that I developed an interest in reading. We were once given a project to review Known Turf by Annie Zaidi. I read the book and conveniently skipped pages. In the bargain, I found those bits interesting so I started reading the novel all over again. I went back to God of Small Things and read the novel again. Gradually, reading started capturing me. I started borrowing books from friends and professors. I then signed up to a library. Today, I regret not reading when I had all the time in the world as a child. How much I’d learn. Reading taught me much more than anyone else could.
And with reading, I don’t know when and how, I grew fond of that one segment I ignored during my third year. I thought I could make a good crime or politics reporter. But see where I’ve anchored my ship. This dock is called writing. Now I want to write. I want to keep writing. But it isn’t all that easy all the time. Ideas come and go like breeze. Even though I’m sitting all alone and writing, I’m as nervous as a shadow before making a submission. But there’s something about typing words. Even though I enjoy writing, I’m not quite a fan of calling myself a writer. I’m yet not convinced about the road I’ve taken. Will I be a writer or is another profession awaiting me? For now I’d like to believe that this is my vocation.