Anushka

What was your favorite book as a child?

As a child I was always told that good trumped evil. The narrator of this seemingly universal truth seemed to change as I grew beyond Disney, Barbie and Harry Potter but the essence never changed. That the world rewarded merit, that there was always a happy ending right around the corner, these seemingly white lies were fed into my mental console. And yet despite myself, I never seemed at peace with this idea. Which is probably why I was obsessed with The Hunger Games trilogy when I first read it. The dystopia showed me that the gray world was far more real than the black and white one I’d been exposed to all my childhood. A female protagonist who may be calculating, invulnerable and still fighting to make things right in a terrible world was just about as strange as a male lead who was gentle, sacrificing instead of heroic and unassumingly virtuous. Suzanne Collins managed to give me both of them in a single world.

What was the original reason or motivation why you started writing creatively?

I was a pariah at school as well as in social settings that my parents contrived for my sake because they knew I was so lonely. Even when I had the words in my throat, I could never find it in me to answer what was asked of me. I began journaling at the age of 8, and over time, those scattered thoughts evolved into a more self-aware collection of observations — about myself, those around me, and the world beyond, which I barely knew. Stifled by the small town I called home and the smaller life I’d cultivated for myself in it, the resentment simmering in me only grew with time. Writing saved me back then. My journal entries were the first evidence of being able to express myself unapologetically, without filters. Even “Ginger Grandmother,” the piece that got accepted into this issue of Tint Journal, was a direct derivative of the fragments I’d retrieved from my journals. 

What was the most adventurous or thrilling thing you ever did/experienced?

I was in Kashmir, in Pahalgam I think, with a group of strangers who’d become friends over the course of my trip. And we all opted for pony rides to cover all of the scenic view points that would be difficult to cover on foot because of the high altitudes and our being pressed for time. Mine was a bay horse, a pony really, called Brownie. A spirited filly, her caretaker hit her a couple of times when she almost ran off with me atop her, no experience with horseriding whatsoever. Thirty minutes in, we’d bonded and been very nice to each other throughout our shared two hours. By the end, even her caretaker had remarked at how well she was responding to me. I still think of her fondly — green highlights in my dark hair, my brown top athletic, Brownie and I riding off into the lush woodlands of Kashmir.

Do you listen to music while reading or writing?

Music has been quietly scoring the background of my life for as long as I can remember. It actively began to affect my creative writing when I discovered instrumentals. I’m not going to pretend I understand the gravity of a piece by Beethoven, Bach or Tchaikovsky. But when I know I’m going to work on something sad, the song I’ll be listening to right before I commit words to a page will be something like “Hymn to the Sea” from Titanic. If the feeling I’m looking to bask in is joy, “Nuvole Bianche” by Ludovico Einude is a non-negotiable. Bittersweet is a difficult emotional state to express, I think, because to this day, there’s only one piece that does it for me — it’s “The Light” by The Album Leaf. Some of my best writing has come to me after listening to these instrumentals for hours on end, all the while I’m doing chores such as folding clothes, making lunch or arranging my desk.