Twinkle Khanna listens to white noise when she writes. "Otherwise, it's 'Madam, aaj tandoori chicken banega ya butter chicken?'" Her domestic staff might be unaware of her parallel career as a writer, but ever since the interior designer and former actress took to writing her newspaper columns two years ago, Khanna has had us in splits.
Tracing her writing origins to "morbid poems about earthworms and death" in her teens, Khanna can now expound on anything from government policy, public hypocrisy, luxury bags to mother-in-laws.
While her first book, Mrs Funnybones, is structured on her columns, she clarifies that it is not really a compilation. "I have written fresh pieces and included a few previously published pieces…and I have a before and after too, since I often have a lot more to say than the 800 word limit that national newspapers kindly grant me for my columns."
Khanna spoke to Vogue about her love for Wodehouse, rickshaw rides and the editing process. Edited excerpts:
Mrs Funnybones is dedicated to your father. Was he a fan of your wisecracks growing up?
He used to complain that I shoot my mouth off, that I'm stubborn, sharp, opinionated, and well, exactly like him. I didn't really know what he thought about my writing and poems until quite recently, when an old friend of his put up a post on Facebook saying something like 'He could not always understand his daughter's macabre poems but secretly he was always proud of her and would talk to me about it.' That will always remain with me.
Have you enjoyed the editing and publishing process? How much of a role did your editors have in shaping the way you write and edit? What's been your biggest lesson?
Chiki Sarkar edited Mrs Funnybones and she is a ruthless but kind editor to work with. The only lesson I learnt during this process was to say 'Yes Prime minister' and re-write. She also threw out 23 limericks that I had carefully devised for this book so now I use them to put my husband to sleep after he comes home after a hectic day.
They say we all have a book within us. You have several in you at this moment. Is this the first book you wanted to publish?
No, I wanted to write a rather somber book about a family during the pre-partition era but my editor hit me with a heavy thesaurus on my head (which induced partial amnesia) and I forgot all about that book.
What do the 'man of the house' and 'prodigal son' have to say about their private lives being out in the public? Does your two year-old daughter (otherwise known as The Baby) have a say in this too?
The man of the house and the prodigal son rather enjoy the slightly exaggerated caricatures of them that I present to the world, The Baby I suspect seems to be made of sterner stuff and will kill me with her green comb that masquerades as a knife when she catches on.
You use the word 'blimey' a lot. Is it a P.G. Wodehouse hangover?
It’s the other way around, sometimes I cure my hangovers by curling up in bed with a Wodehouse instead. I like crisp words like 'blimey', 'yikes', 'crap' which describe consternation, embarrassment and sometimes wonderment without making me type so many alphabets. And yes, I'm a big Wodehouse fan.
You must tell us if the incident in the first chapter—where a rickshaw wallah talks to you about Akshay Kumar's family—actually happened. And seriously, have you actually ever sat in a rickshaw?
That's the fun of the book, sometimes the facts are really stranger than the stuff I pull out of my head. Yes, the rickshaw wallah actually said all of that and barring the man of the house, the kids and me are rather happy to toddle off in our black and yellow chariot.
Tell us about the lovely illustrations in the book. How involved were you in the process?
I made comprehensive notes for each chapter but the illustrator put it together even better than I had imagined. Well, we had to first cross the bumpy hurdle where they drew my caricature as this super curvy/super mom character and I had to gently remind them that I am not Sunny Leone.
So, when did you become an illeist?
It is not I, it is her; she became an illeist so thou shalt not accuse me of third party crimes.
Are you the sort of writer who hates when editors change a comma?
I have written a few pieces for Vogue and accepted a few words going missing but here's a fair warning, when I grow in stature (and not just in size), I will put a bullet through the frail, fashionable shoulders of certain features editors when they demand extra edits.
Mrs Funnybones is out on Penguin Random House India.
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