How I stumbled upon my writing tribe & surrendered to personal memoir writing

This is the first post of the five-part series about my tryst with a writing community and personal memoirs

In April 2023 I heard Natasha Badhwar on "The Seen and the Unseen" podcast by Amit Varma for nearly 6 hours straight. Deeply moved by her brave vulnerability and inherent authenticity, I got hold of her books to dive deeper into her words which nourished my soul. As I started following her on social media, I saw a post about her upcoming “Personal Memoir Writing Workshop”. Having always found joy and refuge in writing, I wanted to join the workshop but I couldn’t get myself to sign up for it. The reason was simple and I told myself with honesty that I am not ready to be honest, yet.

About a month later, my meticulously built world came crumbling down. A significant academic and professional failure made my entire being wallow in grief and self-pity. It took me the need to mourn the death of a dear dream to finally want to write with honesty. In these times of desperation, with the hopelessly-hopeful desire to put broken pieces of myself back together, I wrote an essay for the workshop selection. It was the words I had written the very next morning after a painful result. When the pain was too heavy to carry for my heart, words gently took all the burden off my broken self. Enrolling for this workshop was an attempt to breathe at a time when I was gasping for air. And breathe I did, when Natasha and Raju wrote back to me, offering me a chance at this workshop- a chance at healing, a chance at a renewed life.

Right before the first session, I wrote in my journal-

Even though my heart is broken into a million pieces right now, my spirit stays untouched and strong. That’s all that you need to keep pressing forward and to find joy and meaning in life. For after all, what else truly matters except for the defiant power of the human spirit.

With a huge baggage of emotions and the immense pressure of expectations, I began the workshop. There was never a classroom like teaching or discussion about what personal memoir writing was. We beautifully learnt by doing, nudged masterfully by the brilliant and empathetic Natasha and Raju who led the sessions. They created a safe space on zoom (and in their hearts) for 20 odd strangers who were also strange people willing to bare their souls naked through the power of words.

There were writing prompts, weekly writing assignments and speed writing interspersed with seemingly unrelated but creatively connected activities. We wrote and read out to everyone, often with a shaking yet powerful voice. We heard others with generosity, often with our emotional yet empowered selves. My writing tribe became my infinite reservoir of strength and inspiration, healing me as a human and nourishing me as a writer. My personal stories were held with kindness and love, giving me the courage to write and share.

Contrary to the everyday advice I was receiving from the world, this workshop taught me life-changing lessons which nursed back my broken self. I learnt to gracefully grieve than ruthlessly overcome, to courageously accept than reluctantly let go and to be bravely vulnerable than cleverly disguised. The magic wands of healing were my unwavering pen and my incessantly typing fingers. However, it is because of this workshop that I could use them and it was in the company of beautiful humans that the ordinary wand of mine somehow yielded magic. Right place, right time, right people ? Most certainly.

With every new writing exercise I re-discovered parts of myself beyond this difficult phase of my professional life. I committed to gradually unraveling the whole of my authentic self, peeling away layers of worldly facades to arrive at the core of my values and desires. The mirror reflected more of me and I looked myself in the eye with strength like never before. Tracing down my stories through the workshop turned out to be an excruciating and rewarding journey.

Just as Natasha had expressed, I learnt to obey my stories which demanded to be told. I gave myself the permission to not come in the way of myself as an honest writer. "Slowly, at your own pace. But surely, in this lifetime.", I told my scared, uncomfortable self as I made a list of each demon I wished to face on paper. My daily affirmation during July read-

I will practice courageous writing. I will practice vulnerable sharing. All in due course of time. All at my pace, dear heart.

Something had shifted inside me. Not in an earth shaking way but in a gentle way, just like the tectonic movements which keep our earth moving and also slowly changing. Writing felt like meditation as I learnt to live more "writefully". Writing felt like praying as I learnt to live with faith cultivated through words.  

The workshop was like serendipitous sprouts of spring in a month of autumn in my life. My gloomy, uncertain days found an anchor in my Tuesdays-of-July. At a time when I thought that I was soon to drown in despondency and grief, the personal memoir writing workshop miraculously came like a life saving boat. It gave me the life jacket of personal memoir writing and reminded me that I always knew how to swim. It then set me free into the oceans again. But, with the strength and desire to swim. Where and how to go I did not know, but I proceeded with the belief that I belong to these uncertain waters, recognising that new shores were calling out to me. How could I not pay heed to them?

So, I left the workshop hopeful, wiser and stronger. On the last day, I felt a little bit like a writer, a little bit like an adventurer. I felt ready for the beauty and dread these oceans had to offer to me. I felt ready to write bravely and honestly. I felt ready to embrace life and live fully.

This was a gratitude post for the Personal Memoir Writing Workshop by Natasha and Raju.

Tune in next Monday to find out about my 3 months long journey with the Ochre Sky Writing Circle and discover the power of community in shaping an artist.