I could have answered that the particular story that was in focus on the occasion was, among other things, a tribute to a Bangalore I grew up in. But that seemed too simple, too one dimensional a response. I left it to the others to comment.
I reflect once again on the question, in the context of my own creative experience of course. Ultimately, it is the entire complex subtlety of human behaviour that catalyses the need to express in a bid to understand the relationships, the sociology and the interactions that propagate individual destinies.
It is fascinating how nuances reflect on the face. For instance, a certain sub-cutaneous sheen, almost palpably dense under the skin often signals ill-health. I’ve seen it time and time again, often learning later that the person in question was indeed ill. The other thing it has unfortunately taken me long to hone is my empirical ability to read that particular stillness, a closed, guarded intensity that I now recognise as a sign of depression. Shuttered eyes!
I find I can work misery and discontent into a story, and am learning to incorporate them with the fine-ness they are due. Love, however, is impossibly difficult to write about. The whole ghastly caricaturing in popular cinema, of the secret communication between potential lovers, the lifted eyelid and lowered brow, the infatuated coyness and sentimentality, is a serious deterrent. I have to find a way to acieve some measure of the sophistication of An Equal Music.
In any event, catching passing glimpses of human expression invariably triggers stories. Capturing their elusive delicacy is the challenge.
