My Funny Destiny

On the eve of the launch of her first novel, writer TWINKLE KHANNA dissects her literary laurels, from bad poetry to her trademark wit.

- Rajashree Balaram

As a teenager, I carried a black folder with an orange ribbon holding the things most precious to me—my poems. I started writing only after I went to boarding school. The loneliness of being away from everything familiar, the loss of what I had always taken for granted—a happy family—and my inability to fit in, found an outlet in poetry, and not very good poetry at that. Today, as I send my third book out into the world, the answer to why I write remains the same. It is the only way I know how to dispel the inherent loneliness that comes with being human.

Everyone has a dream for themselves. As I was creating a not-so-successful career in the film industry, I was actually imagining doing something altogether different. While I danced on sets in the rain around my heroes, I had a vision of myself as a 60-year-old, living in a faraway cottage somewhere, writing books.

Despite floundering dismally at verse, I did in fact manage to write half a book by the time I was in my early twenties, and then as I hit my forties it all fell into place. I am glad I didn’t wait till I was a silver-haired fox, just as I am glad I didn’t start too early.