My earliest memories are of storytelling. My grandparents often took care of me after school and helped on the weekends when my dad was working overnight as an emergency room doctor. I remember their bedtime stories: traditional Indian folk tales, like one about a woodchopper who asked God for brains, brawns, and luck. My favorites, however, were the stories from my grandparents’ own lives. I loved hearing their harrowing accounts of survival during the India-Pakistan partition as they migrated across the new border. My grandfather often describes living in a refugee camp after partition, winning a spot to live in military barracks-turned-government housing, and his journey to the United States. As I got older, I worked with my grandpa to record his stories in his hopes of writing a book about his life. Though that book didn’t come to fruition, the experience instilled in me the power of storytelling to connect across countries and generations.

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Alongside my appreciation for my family’s stories, I was a voracious reader, fueled by the lower school’s celebration of literacy. I don’t remember what initially drew me to writing, but I can only assume that my love for reading naturally led me to create my own stories. During the annual November book festival, I vied to read as many books as possible and submitted my work for the poetry and prose competition. A vivid memory from my childhood is me sitting at the desk in the corner of my kitchen, perched in front of an old desktop computer and typing furiously with just my pointer finger. My dog, Bingo, was a frequent muse, while many other stories were set in elaborate imaginary worlds. My family noticed my appetite for reading and writing, so my birthday gifts provided me with an exhaustive stream of journals and new books. To this day, I have a cabinet full of untouched notebooks, more than I could ever need.

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I submitted my writing to a contest for the first time in second grade at my teacher's encouragement. From there, I continued exploring different writing forms--poetry, op-eds, and short stories--in elementary and middle school, and I entered more writing competitions. I loved coming up with the ideas for stories, but not always the process of actually finishing them. For every completely blank notebook I have tucked away, there is at least one half-used. My fascination with crafting the perfect story causes me to overthink every word and often avoid finishing a piece altogether. I initially planned on titling this essay “Why I Love to Write,” but I realized that was untrue as I wrote it. I often find the writing process exhausting, but at the same time, it is therapeutic. It allows me to clear my thoughts, and reading my polished work makes all the agony worthwhile.

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Though I still enjoy creative writing, most of my writing is now devoted to academic essays and journalism. Writing for the Rubicon has given my words a purpose beyond fulfilling a grade or my own expectations. I love telling someone’s story and conveying their voice, especially the stories unique to our community. Recently, one of my stories that elicited a schoolwide conversation reminded me of the power of writing and reporting the truth; now, more than ever, that feels like a meaningful task. Journalism has changed the way I view writing, from solely a personal endeavor to one that connects me with others and has the potential to broaden their perspectives. I was never particularly interested in writing in a diary every day; I always wrote with the hopes of my work being shared. I now see writing as a responsibility and an opportunity--it gives me clarity and an outlet to express my opinions, but it is also an obligation to inform others and uplift unheard voices.