I was born in a cotton colony premise in Guwahati. My father Umakanta was a great disciplinarian and educationist. Guwahati should have been my fairyland, but my real fairyland was my village Amrana, 30 kms away from Guwahati. Our ancestral house was made of wood. It was here that I usually spent my holidays.

My playmate was a small elephant, which was actually my brother’s. I used to have lots of fun as a child. I went out with the village children to catch fish, and swim in the river. When I returned home, my aunt and the others would drag me by the hair and take me to the well for a good bath. Only after that was I allowed to step inside.

I was very friendly with Kaltu, the mahout of our elephant, Rajendra. Kaltu used to be on opium all day long. I used to sit on his lap. The way he smoked hookah was very tempting. Once, he allowed me a puff but I started coughing immediately.

I used to spend hours by the side of the Jagalia river, wherefrom I watched the elephants. One day, a big elephant was tied in our wooden balcony. The elephant was eating bananas in the afternoon and everyone was asleep. When I woke up from my afternoon nap, I crossed the boundary and touched the elephant. Suddenly I spotted thick, ugly hairs on its stomach. I have no idea why I decided to pull them out. For sometime nothing happened but a little later, the elephant banged its head angrily against the wooden pillar.

The entire house shook, waking everyone up. I almost collapsed. When I told my aunt what had happened, she picked me up gently and said, “He loves you very much. Or else, he would have killed you today”.

I used to love the pine trees. At night, when the breeze blew, it sounded like someone weeping. My mother would say that the fairy was weeping and cleaning our courtyard. I used to ask my mother if the fairy’s stepmother was torturing her.

My mother told me all sorts of stories, which I guess, helped nurture my creative instincts. Also, since childhood, we developed this habit of sitting and writing. Even now I can sit and write for 24 hours. This is sadhana. As told to Prasant Arora