So, I guess you want to know your hosts. To find out more about us and about who we are. That’s a reasonable demand—Hansel and Gretel should’ve known their host too. So, everyone! We are Matsyaa.
That’s the name the two of us have adopted for our joint ventures out in the literary world, but individually, we are Tanu J. and Nidra M.
And we’re sisters.
And authors. And bloggers. And poets. And like to sketch and stuff. And have long searched for a word in the English vocabulary which covered all of these, until we came across the classic and beautiful—Artists.
We decided that we were going to build a safe haven for all artists and art lovers—A Home For Artists. This site is but a virtual window into this home that is endless, as all art is.
We call it Matsyaa Lyfe—and no, that’s not a typo. It’s life, but with a why.
We spell life with a why. There are thousands of people out there whore trying to find How life began, What exactly life came out of, When and Where it originated and so on. There are also thousands more who’ve dedicated their life to finding the answers of these questions—the scientists, the cosmologists, and also the, uhh, the dreamers.
Everyone is telling us that the first form of life emerged in a volcano, that it was something called Cyanobacteria. Everyone is telling us what the right way of living is, what the right ethics and behavioral pattern is.
If we dive deeper, we’ll also come across the ones who try to search what even is the meaning of this existence? What is it pointing to? What is the universe trying to tell us by letting us take birth on this beautiful planet?
Why?
Why are we even alive?
We are among of those few who ask—and sometimes answer—this most important question of all: the artists.
Tanu J.
I was twelve-years-old when I found out a notebook from a bunch of old stuff. I picked that notebook up and thought about the ways I could fill it up, and I wondered about it for a whole day and then suddenly I was hit with this idea—well, why don’t I write stories? And so my first story came to be. It wasn’t like I hadn’t written anything before, it was just that this was the very first time I had an idea of what I was doing. I was writing stories. I was planning to become an author. I was building a life—though, that sounded a little exaggerated at that time.
The joy of it was spectacular and suddenly my stories were all I could think about—day and night. It was my way to escape reality and now it has become my reality. Now four years have passed and I am a self-published author of a Poetry compilation on Amazon Kindle. When COVID-19 struck, I completed my first book. And then the second (no plotholes, guaranteed). Then the third. And then the fourth. This may seem like an accomplishment—writing four novels in a span of 18 months. It was, truly.
But it also took its toll on me, because I was lagging behind in school and I was losing sleep, too busy working towards my goal. And of course things kind of down-spiralled in October 2022 when, right after publishing my first work, I lost my will to write.
What had happened to me?
No, it was not the writer’s block. Writer’s block is when you want to write, but can’t. After some probing here and there, and checking out the internet, I realised it was something else. Writer’s fatigue. The term for burnout in writers. It is when you can write, but you just don’t want to. You lose all will. Imagine how scary that was for me, overthinking as usual and coming to a conclusion that I was not going to be an author after all.
But—wait for it, wait for it.
Here, Matsyaa Lyfe came to be. I started blogging. Every hard and difficult situation comes to an end. That was the lesson.
And you come out stronger and more experienced. So, when I was going through this burnout phase, I started journaling more. I started thinking positively and believing in the future, and I started remembering my why, my past—all the stories I wrote as a kid. They gave me all the inspiration I needed. I realised that the mountain was in front of me, and I was equipped enough to cross it. Things started looking up. Now, in 2023, four years have passed from that day when I first started writing. I have published a book on kindle, I’m writing more, we have our very own website. And we are creating a brand.
Nidra M.
It would be accurate to say that the younger one of us inspired the older one. Delightfully non-cliché, isn’t it?
My pen name is Nidra Mrduvnak, and I write because it’s one of the best things I ever found. That also sums me up, actually—I find things. It is very rare when I invent them. That’s Tanu’s job.
I just find things, lying around hidden, dusty and—as I like to think—waiting to be found. Like a sponge, I absorb them, and I make them my own. Almost everything in me is a part of someone I love, of something I wanted to remember. From my sister, I got the idea of becoming an author. I was always interested in reading books, watching films, making up intricate scenarios in my mind. I was always trying to gather stories—and sometimes I like to think that even if Tanu hadn’t gotten the idea first, I would’ve, and then she would’ve too. And that even if we both hadn’t had this brilliant idea in our heads, it would’ve found us somehow.
I like to think this is our destiny—our journey.
My first story was something I came up with abruptly, and I didn’t even think of writing it at first—I was just very happy with my story. Eventually, I realised that I could make others happy too, by giving it a life of its own. Slowly, I started recognising my thoughts for what they actually were—ideas! Plots! When reality becomes too tiring, I escape into books. When I can’t find a book to suit my specific tastes, I try to imagine my own book. I lay awake at night, thinking of it, watching it grow, and then watching it grow again but differently this time—because it’s very hard to satisfy a writer.
There are a million ideas, a million ways this story could play out, a million ways that one could end. Sometimes the prospect of choosing just the right one seems daunting, even impossible. Sometimes I think that all of them are right in their own way. Sometimes I’m just confused. But one thing remains the same. The thrill of writing—the utter incomparable thrill of creating a world of your own—never goes away.
I write for that thrill.