A Song for Swansong
Nine . That's how old I was, when I discovered my love for writing. I still remember it all so vividly. I remember scribbling 'poetry' in lurid green pens, plotting 'novels' in lined Sundaram and Classmates notebooks, and writing 'scripts' for my school plays like the pseudo-thespian that my pre-adolescent self was. Even though I was far from perfect, I was supercalifragilisticexpialidociously lucky in one aspect: I had a close-knit group of people who always encouraged me to keep writing, keep having my own voice, and keep sharing, no matter what. And the leader of this small pack? Was my maternal granduncle, Narayan V. Who we all fondly called as Tadi Mama . Tadi Mama, if you read this entire blog, complete with the comments on each post, would often go by the pseudonym of Swansong. And this blog article? Is for him. The boy who grew up a little too soon Chances are, if you're reading this blog, you know me reasonably well. If you...
