A Journey To Savour! How I wrote 'Shadow In The Mirror' - Post 3: #MyFriendAlexa

October 2016: How the Journey began:

Journeys are exciting as they lead across winding paths to a destination that beckons across the horizon. My journey as a writer has been no less exciting. Over twelve years, I have traversed over blank sheets, filling them with higgledy-piggledy words that pranced across my mind. 

‘Shadow in the Mirror’ was a vague idea nestling within, an itch that refused to let me rest in peace. This was a story that had strong autobiographical elements in it, even though it was meant to be a thriller. When I wrote my first line, I realized how much more lay ahead of me. I sat up, burning the midnight oil, as characters, themes and narratives came to life. My protagonists were strong women, with nuances that made them different from one another. The tale had to be engaging; the twists had to grip. I felt myself falling in love with my characters, living their lives along with them.

Sometimes I would wrestle with a particularly tough portion, trying to juggle words. There were nights when I would write and rewrite, my eyelids getting heavier as the midnight hour struck, but I would plod on, determined to finish yet another section of my saga, as I yearned to have my readers relate to the characters within, and their little joys and sorrows, a few of whom were taken from real life. Often my daughter and my sisters would put in their pennyworth, even as my mother gave me heart-warming little snippets that made their way in as well. Thus, there was much of myself, and my family, that went into the final version.

When the words THE END were finally written, I felt a sense of profound happiness, as a bright new literary alleyway opened up. Twelve long years had gone by, when I had let my manuscript moulder in a dusty corner because life came in the way. On occasion, I would feel blue when a certain scene did not end up the way I wanted it to, but suddenly, a light bulb would flicker in my mind and lead me back on to the track.    

Team Readomania read my manuscript in the twelfth year and gave me a heads up. The style of writing and the story passed muster, but I had to cut out the unnecessary bits and prune the story in such a way that it shone.  “All those characters jostling around will confuse the readers,” I was advised.

                                                                              Ruth Hadfield

Heartbroken at having to cut down a few beloved characters, I used the pruning scissors sparingly at first, but as I went along, with the timely help of my editor, I began sensing a hazy outline which stood out, a story that would be powerful in its telling. With fresh impetus, I hacked away mercilessly at my beloved manuscript. This time, there were no tears because the road ahead was crystal clear. I had a story that had to be told, and I had a whole chunk of story that could be made into another standalone story, killing two birds with one stone, as it were.

Once the final narrative was approved, the edits began, as the manuscript went to and fro, like a harried shuttlecock over the nets. The blurb evolved, the endorsements waltzed in, and the acknowledgments and dedications added lustre to the book. There was one last element, probably one of the most significant ones left in the end. ‘Shadow in the Mirror’ needed the perfect cover to complete it, one that would grab the eyeballs and symbolize what the book was all about.

And voila, one fine morning, with myriad inputs, personal and professional, blended together, we had the perfect image before us. It took me time to understand the nuances that made it perfect, but once I got it, I could think of no better cover. It was as though a bright ray of sunshine had left a bit of warmth behind.

Today, as I wait to hold my precious book in my hands, I know that it will be a whole new experience, even though I am familiar with every segment that went into its making. I fervently hope that those words that I have given birth to will find a home within the hearts of my readers, for it is they that can give my book life, or strike it dead.

And as I wait in anticipation, Thomas Mann’s words resonate within my soul.

 “A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.”

This was a blog post written for Readomania.

Postscript: September 2018

In the year  2016, my book 'Shadow in the Mirror' was published by Readomania. Both Dipankar Mukherjee, head honcho (Readomania) and my editor, Vaijyanti Ghosh, put their hearts into making it the best they could.

There were two book launches, one in Chennai and one in Thrissur. The erudite writer and poet,  Mr. Sreekumar Varma, was gracious enough to launch my book at Cream Centre, Chennai along with a wonderful audience that consisted of my family members and my good friends.

Mr. Sreekumar Varma at the Chennai launch

Mr. Sreevalsan J. Menon handing over a  copy of the book to Mrs. Jaya Nagarajan as Prof. Jalaja looks on

The book at launch at Thrissur was held at the Hari Sri Vidya Nidhi School and well attended. The renowned musician, Sreevalsan J Menon, was kind enough to be the Chief Guest. He handed the book over to the Principal, Mrs. Jaya Nagarajan. I was honoured to have three of my old lecturers, Prof. Komala Kumari, Prof. Jalaja and Prof. Lakshman to do the honours.

Today, as I continue to write short stories, humorous articles, my latest being  (https://deepties.blogspot.com/2018/09/the-cornucopia-of-auto-drivers.html), articles on women and children, and blog posts on everything under the sun, I know that I am blessed to be part of a family that has always celebrated my writing. They have held my hand, read all my pieces, given suggestions and done everything they can to encourage me further.

                                       

My Family - My Universe!

What more validation does a writer need, after all?

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The Cornucopia of Auto Drivers! Post 2 #MyFriendAlexa

Travelling by autos has always been a piquant exercise. In Chennai, I would get into metre-less autos and haggle my way to my destination. By the end of my journey, I would emerge, bedraggled and much the worse for wear, with a purse that was considerably lighter than before. My Tamil-speaking skills improved as I got better at describing where I wanted to go and how much I was willing to pay. The firmer the tone, the better!

When we shifted, bag and baggage to Thrissur, things changed dramatically. No longer did I have to haggle over the fare, for here, not only were the distances more manageable, but there were efficient metres that worked to perfection.

Hence, I could spend my daily drives enjoying the scenery outside, or observing the oddities of the auto drivers. The latter categories were mind-boggling, and caused me no end of entertainment.  I have tried to list them in almost alphabetical order! So, hang on to your hats, worthy folk, for here we go! 

Autorickshaw - Bandcamp

Auto drivers in all their glory!

1.      The bleater, who begins to whine about the fare even before you have parked yourself in his auto, and carries on assailing your eardrums till the very end. By which time, you are so frazzled that you quickly pay him whatever he asks for just so that you can be rid of the endless goat-like sounds.

2.      The beeper, who continuously uses his horn, a loud obnoxious creature with a mind of its own, to startle people off the road, or to make up for the lack of a suitable music system. Talk about blowing your own trumpet!

indiamart.com

3.      The creeper, who considers himself a bit of a houseplant and sticks around, even after you have reached your destination, insisting that he can take you places, regardless of whether you want to go or not.

4.      The cheapster, who invites you in with a fawning gesture and then starts bargaining, generally referring to the hike in petrol prices (Blame the govt for that!), the distance involved, the speed breakers and the potholes which grow in proportion every time he describes them. Once he has taken you for a ride, he takes you once again for a ride, saying. "Metre kharab hai!"

zoomcar autowala

5.      The eater who chews away to glory, shaking his head in blissful abandon, while you hope that he will keep his eyes peeled on the road and his garlic-laden breath at more than arm’s length. His excuse? Madam, not eaten breakfast, lunch, dinner, depending on the time of day.

6.      The greeter who hails you with a cheery Good Morning, Namaste or Pinnendha Vishesham (What’s the latest?) and continues to try and keep you in a cheerful frame of mind, hoping against hope, for an extra ten bucks for sunshiny behaviour.

7.      The keeper is that amazing auto driver who impresses you so much on the first trip that you want to keep him for all your trips out. He is polite, keeps his vehicles clean and attractive, drives carefully avoiding potholes, and gives you the exact change. Had he a hat, he would tip it as well.

123RF.com

8.      Then emerges the leaper, who is highly excitable. He leaps off his seat at the drop of a hat, and strides towards the adjacent vehicle which may have just missed grazing his auto, shouting volleys of abuses and shaking his fists.  Unfortunately, you never know when one of these is going to pull a Nagavalli or a Manjulika on you. (The references are to the original Malayalam movie, Manichitra Thazhu, and its Hindi remake, Bhool Bhullaiya).

9.      A surreptitious eye, sly glances thrown at the mirror that has been tilted just so, and a distracted air are all signs of a peeper. The darting eyes give him away. He is a specimen to be avoided at any cost.

10.  The preener is the other extreme. He places mirrors on every side of the auto. I once got into an ornately-done up auto which had two mirrors on the side facing the driver, two mirrors that faced the road and one huge mirror in which the driver could admire his own mug. There he sat, admiring himself, stroking his moustache once in a while, thankfully when there was a break in the traffic.

11.  The garrulous ones are the most difficult to endure. You come across a repeater who says one thing and drones on like a stuck record, saying the same thing over and over again. Thoughts of murder come easy at such moments.

                                     

Flickr

12.  An auto is actually a rather small vehicle. However, there is the ambitious driver who considers himself the most efficient ‘seater’, a coinage of mine. He packs his passengers like sardines, cramming every inch of his vehicle with bodies, perspiration and bad breath. On top of that, he allows one or two passengers to rest a quarter of their backsides on his seat as well.

13.  However, the most dangerous one of all is the sleeper who has obviously not had a full night’s rest, or is a snorer suffering from sleep apnoea. There was this time when the auto kept rocking from side to side. When I glanced in the mirror, there was Rip Van Winkle, busy taking his forty winks. Horrified to see his head falling onto his chest every time he nodded off, I got off much before my destination as I had no intention of meeting my Maker, post-haste.

1 4.  The speedster takes the cake and the whole bakery for achieving Olympic goals on a landscape that is most un-Olympic. He starts off with a huge jerk that almost propels you out, then proceeds along a zigzag path, going into potholes with breakneck speed. Adroitly he manoeuvres his way out of them, as every bone in your body rattles in protest. He swerves, cuts through traffic like a warm knife through butter, and cuts corners that don’t even exist. By the end, you thank your stars that you have not gone through the roof of the auto and been propelled to outer space.

Surendra

Youngisthan.in

15. The steeper is a thirsty man. Fifty yards into the journey, he turns around brightly, saying, “Tea, Madam?” Before you realize that he is not offering you a cuppa, he jumps off with alacrity, and steeps himself in a steaming hot cup of tea at his favourite tea stall, leaving you feeling as bereft as a deserted island. (If islands had feelings, that is!)

1 6.  The mobile phone is a very useful instrument, you would concede. However, imagine your plight when you are running against time and the driver’s phone keeps jangling to the most raucous music, and he picks it up every single time, still driving merrily over bumps, potholes and bystanders’ toes. At one stage, you tell him to stop using the phone, and he does stop. Not the phone, but the vehicle! Then he turns around, all cheery and says, “Madam, please, one minute!” Next, he starts messaging the person involved. For want of a better word, I should term him a tweeter, I guess!

twitter

17.      The weeper looks at you with large, melancholy eyes, waiting for the slightest hint of interest on your part. The moment he senses that you are ready for a sob story, the dam breaks and he buttonholes you, embroidering his tale with details that would depress even the most optimistic. 

So, there you have it – the whole gamut of auto drivers who populate not only God’s Own Country, but the whole of India as well. God bless them all! :)

  

                                                                      9Lines

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The Relief Goes On! #KeralaFloods - Post 1 - #MyFriendAlexa

HELP REHABILITATE KERALA

The floods in Kerala have abated, the relief and rehabilitation work is going on in full swing as people try to put their lives back together once again. Houses have been washed away, possessions lost and the future grim. However, there is a wonderful wave that is flowing across the state, a wave of volunteers from all walks of life, an ocean of workers who are ready to do all they can to assuage suffering. These volunteers have dropped whatever they were doing and have rushed in, often where angels fear to tread.

Nowhere is this more apparent than in the Thrissur Indoor Stadium where a massive movement is taking place. My husband and I wanted to do our bit to offer aid. We have a couple of empathetic friends from across the country, who also wanted to donate, but were determined that the money should reach the right people. 

Hence, we made our way to the margin free shop and picked up twenty household kits which consisted of all essential items, from rice to matchboxes and drove to the Indoor Stadium. Even from outside, we could see a bustle of activity, as sacks of goods were being thrown down to waiting volunteers, who then lugged the heavy loads into the interior, shouting out, “Make way!”

A group of volunteers sat outside in a row, taking down the details of the donors and their donations, along with names and phone numbers. Hordes of people milled around. As we walked into the stadium, the energy within was electrifying. A gargantuan quantity of relief material lay strewn around - onions, potatoes, rice and pulses, cleaning materials, clothes, biscuits and the like. Ladies sprawled on the ground sorting out onions, even as others packed items into specific kits so that every kit would hold the same number of items. The kits we had donated were also dismembered and dovetailed into the standard kit.

Even as we looked on, the Minister for Agriculture, Mr. VS Sunil Kumar made his way into the stadium and was shown the amazing work being done by all. It was obvious that he was a regular visitor and knew his way around.

More and more trucks arrived and the pace picked up with more items being cart loaded to the venue. Suddenly, the volunteers formed lines and began throwing the smaller packets at each other in a regular rhythmic movement. It was a treat to watch as they continued this action, until all the boxes had reached their destination.

There were even a few young boys and girls who were doing their bit, much akin to the little squirrel in the Ramayana who helped to carry tiny stones to help the Vanara Sena in their bridge building. That’s how he got his stripes, it is believed.

Where were all these men and women from? Were they students? Did they have regular nine to five jobs? Were they housewives who had finished their chores and come here? Were they part of the unemployed army?

Whoever they were, there was one common refrain running through all their minds. They had come here to offer their time and their energy to help those in need. The television programmes that had broadcast the devastation across Kerala, and the heart-wrenching stories told by the anguish in the eyes of those who had suffered mammoth losses, had moved myriad hearts. A whole section of the people in Kerala had been galvanized and here they were, doing their bit to assuage the suffering.

As we gazed, silently, at the entire machinery that worked in unison, in perfect rhythm, our hearts were full. The whole country had come together in a crisis in the south of India, and given of themselves. Donations were still pouring into the Chief Minister’s Relief Fund, and once the relief ended, the rehabilitation efforts would begin. That was where the money had to be pumped in, to ensure that the common man, who had lost his entire life savings in one fell swoop, had a ray of hope to look forward to. 

For it is impossible to even envisage how a family feels when it watches every brick, every possession and every hope wash away in the throes of Nature’s fury. It is to be hoped no one ever be in that position ever again. For that, we must all strive, we must co-operate as a state, as a nation, and as citizens of a common world.

Kerala needs all of your help. For those of you who would like to donate, here's how you can do so under five minutes.

Thank you so much, dear friends, for your patient reading. 
Let's make Kerala 'God's Own Country' all over again. 

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