Slow Dialogue: With author Meera Ganapathi

Interview by Payal Khandelwal

For the first in the series of ‘Slow Dialogue’, we have a conversation with Meera Ganapathi - a writer, an author, and the founder-editor of the independent publication The Soup. An ex-advertising professional, she has also written picture books for children and short stories for adults.

We have been huge fans of Meera’s work since the last few years including The Soup. Meera once referred to the magazine as a ‘quiet, gentle corner in the internet that spoke about sensitive subjects without sensationalising’. And we couldn’t agree more. Even her writing on Instagram is so earnest and beautifully composed. It also often feels like a peaceful space for her old and new readers to take a small break from their everyday chaos.

Meera currently lives in Goa with her husband and her two cats. We speak to Meera about slow life, home and her upcoming writing workshop at a family-run homestay, Slow Garden, in Leh, Ladakh.

What does slow living mean to you? Do you believe in 'slow living' consciously?

I have never subscribed to the idea of slow living in any conscious manner until very recently, where through a fairly overwhelming time in my life I found myself truly at peace only when I was 'doing' and 'feeling' as opposed to rationalising and thinking and well, overthinking. This is virtually impossible to do when one has responsibilities, commitments, work and even social media, but I have begun to gift myself pockets of time where I simply sit and stare at the garden, go for a walk or cycle or read without distraction, or even cook without a single thought in my head. To me, slow living isn't so much about hoarding of candles and jasmine tea as I imagined it to be, but I have learnt that it's living in the moment without concerning myself with the past or the future.

What are some of the things you truly prioritise in your personal and professional life now? And how has this changed since the last few years?

So much has changed. I used to feel the need to take up everything that came my way workwise, perhaps out of the insecurity of missing out on an opportunity. And ultimately I'd be saddled with work that I neither enjoyed nor earned too much from. Now I'm careful to take up projects that are engaging and challenging. I'm prioritising finding satisfaction in my work and being valued for it.

There is an inherent sense of calm and peace in almost all the work that you share. Is that an extension of your personality?

So kind of you to notice something like that. I don't think I'm doing this intentionally. I'm a fairly anxious person and I seek peace inherently because of this. Any kind of chaos or drama exhausts me so perhaps this need for peace is reflected in my work. In fact it's odd you mention this because lately I've been trying to tap into a less likeable side, to dwell on darker subjects, simply to understand what else can be done. This isn't something I'm sharing, but it is an interesting route to take as of now to perhaps grow as a writer.

You live between Goa and Mumbai. How does that help you? Is that something you enjoy - moving around two cities with wildly different pace of life?

Yes, right now we've shifted to Goa almost completely. I come to Mumbai only on work now. My family moved so much when I was a child that I thought I'd adapt to constantly moving between two cities, but these things are much harder to do when you're older. I prefer the sleepy pace of Goa, the access to nature and the space we have here but it's also oddly beautiful that after seven days of being marooned indoors due to the monsoon, when I went to Mumbai and took in the energy of the city, I enjoyed it immensely and I could truly appreciate it.

I think the good part comes to me as I type out your answer, living between two places has made me value each of those places for what they represent. More and more I realise I've been pushed out of my comfort zone in a manner that has stopped me from becoming complacent.

This photo is at the new house that Meera and her husband have bought in Goa. This picture was taken before the house went in for renovation.

“I have begun to gift myself pockets of time where I simply sit and stare at the garden, go for a walk or cycle or read without distraction or even cook without a single thought in my head.”

Tell us about your homes in these two different places. Do the respective cities influence the way you live in your homes and the kind of decor you have?

Yes, and it has everything to do with the structure of homes and the weather. In an old Goan house, I find myself being dictated by the weather, the tiles on the roof, the ever-present monsoon mould and the overwhelming heat of summer. In Bombay, I'm constrained by space so every purchase, every decision was made with a spot in the house in my mind - ‘This lamp could go to that corner? Yes.’ or ‘There's no space to keep five new books, let me invest in a Kindle.’

In Goa, there's more room to experiment, but there's also an awareness of materials that work with the weather, and an awareness of working according to the purpose of those spaces. For instance, in some spaces, the furniture is more 'easy' because people lounge there and look outdoors (so a fornicator chair for the balcao), or too-new things look jarring so we use reclaimed objects to enhance the history of an old home. Even my kitchen in Bombay is stocked according to elbow room and walking space - this isn't a room I'd like to linger in, whereas in Goa I can consider creating a welcoming little corner where I read or write until my pressure cooker completes its routine of whistles.

What's the most special thing about your home/homes?

I think my home is my refuge, no matter where I live. And I don't mean this in a "roof over my head" way - I mean it in the way I mould my home so it becomes a place where I recover from the world - in plants and art and softly lit corners and comfortable chairs. And all the occupants of my home - my husband and I and our two lazy cats - completely agree on one point that above all else, no matter where we move, our home must comfort us.

Tell us about your upcoming workshop at Slow Garden? How did it all start? What can the participants really expect?

Last month, the team at Slow Garden approached me to host a writing workshop and when I saw their beautiful homestay and heard that it was in Leh, I did not think twice at all (smiles). Ever since then, Aishwarya Phadke from Slow Garden and I have been charting a plan to conduct this retreat in a manner where the journey to Ladakh feels fulfilling to each participant. Accordingly, there are beautifully curated experiences that participants can look forward to outside the workshop, that are sure to inspire their work within the workshop.

As this is a workshop on short form writing, anyone with an interest in it is welcome to join. The registration opens on August 12th, but I didn't want to make this too impersonal, and therefore we have only 15 spots available. I have put together an interactive structure where we break down facets of writing from ideation and editing to even the vagaries of "when a piece of writing is good enough to share with the world." In the current dopamine-charged atmosphere of sharing work online, there's an invisible but persistent pressure on writers and perhaps everyone, to perform with immediacy and succumb to validation over honesty. As someone who presents my work online very often, I grapple with these issues constantly. This workshop is therefore a genuine attempt to slow down and reflect on what draws us to writing in the first place and tap into what we really want to say through our words.

We hope to accomplish all of this, during short walks, writing sessions by the river, and exchanges of ideas that finally culminate in a zine that covers our experiences in a collection of prose and poetry.