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My Writing process #Monday Blogs

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I have to begin by thanking my dear friend Feroza Unvala, the creator of all my book covers who introduced me to  her writer and social activist friend, Humaira Ghilzai.  Humaira I appreciate you inviting me to participate on this blog tour which has impelled me to reconnect with my writer friends and continue the blogging process which I thoroughly enjoy.

My writing process

1)     What am I working on? 

 

The culture that you are brought up with to a large extent defines who you are in the context of modern day living. It grounds you and gives you a sense of identity. Added to this is a passion to give a resonant voice to universal women’s issues. That said, 1930?s Colonial India was the  natural choice for the setting of my first novel, “When the Lotus Blooms,” which was published in 2011, telling the story of two child brides attempting to find identity in a patriarchal society. the novel includes the entire gamut of women’s issues from infertility to a domineering mother-in-law, rape and substance abuse to abortion and widowhood. Rajam and Dharmu, the main protagonists, are my grandmothers, Kandu, my father and Kamu, my mother.

I am currently working on the sequel which I hope to call, “A Rose from a dream.” The book spans a decade from 1942-1952 and brings in issues which I didn’t cover in the first book, including the institution of Devadasis, (organized prostitution) the Independence movement and the World war as it impacted India. Hopefully it should be out by 2014.

2)     How does my work differ from others of its genre?

 

My book falls under the category of historical fiction. While there are hundreds of books on the British Raj, most have a western viewpoint and none have showcased the span and depth of its culture especially from the viewpoint of its impact on women. More particularly, my books speaks about tradition and culture of the Tamil brahmin community.

What has been much more difficult to do as a writer is to speak out against social injustice in a voice of compassion that does not offend the sensibilities of thousands of brahmin women, whose life is defined by this very tradition. To use the pen to create awareness, conversation and perhaps change. The difficulty was in finding the right balance where I didn’t convert the book into a handbook of Indian culture, yet was able to talk about common practices that define the Brahmin community and change that needs to occur.

Most importantly I exist in every page of the book. Hailing from the culture gave me deep insight into the mindset and attitudes of Tamil brahmin women and I present the social milieu in a non-judgmental, participative manner that resonates with women from all walks of life, every culture and every society. Nothing has really changed. Social relationships, male patriarchy, abuse and subjugation; all these issues plague women even today.

3)     Why do I write what I do?

 

I write in two genres; spiritual non-fiction and historical fiction. I discovered writing after I learned a special breathing technique called Sudarshan Kriya. The breathing practices combined with meditation quieted the mind sufficiently for the latent talent to emerge. My second book was written in gratitude to share the happiness and peace I had miraculously discovered. I had finally chanced on writing and through the written word was able to express my innermost feelings and emotions. My earlier anger with the world, the resultant frustration and stress had just dissipated. The book is called “The Present: a Gift from the Divine: and it has been endorsed by my Master H.H. Sri Sri Ravi Shankar as well as H.H. the Dalai Lama. I have heard that nonfiction is more popular but I prefer the comfort of fiction!

My head is filled with untold stories. I see stories in everything from mundane tasks like drinking milk or going swimming to the more dramatic like child molestation.  A small and unimportant task like spreading cow manure on the floor could be converted in a scene of shame and control, to portray the very insecurity and fear that troubled Rajam all her life. It became stimulating to write because I could let my imagination and intuition take over and then watch the drama play out. The journey was much more exhilarating, and I was present right through at every important juncture in the lives of my characters  through my writing. I am not in the career of writing for money; I write because that’s what I love to do. Money and fame are a product of destiny. Self-publishing my book brought closure for a project dear to my heart. I am very happy with the end product, and having a small publisher in India has worked well for me to distribute and sell in the land of my birth. The only promise I strictly honor is to be true to myself and maintain my authenticity by writing on subjects  I am passionate about, and using the pen to affect change and create awareness. I guess I write because I have no choice. It is natural, gratifying and exhilarating.

 

4)     How does your writing process work?

There is very little planning involved when I write. My writing style is anecdotal and each chapter could stand on its own merit as a short story. I pick a character, take a deep breath and begin typing:  the story simple reveals itself without any special effort on my part. This is when I write fiction. For my nonfiction book I interviewed over a hundred people from five continents, after which I transcribed each interview. Following this, I created a spreadsheet using different headings like anger, lust, delusion, karma and so on. I would read the interview and enter the name under each category. Two years later I had 500 pages transcribed and no idea what to do. Then one day I just sat and began writing. I picked a topic pulled the interviews related to it and put it all together. I wrote for 12-14 hours a day for 2 months. I don’t know if this works for others. Research and information just acts a s a guide when I write. My writing is completely natural and intuitive. It’s as they say; there’s someone sitting on my shoulder telling me what to write next.

 

Meet my author friends

Keith .B. Darrell

Keith .B. Darrell is a prolific American writer of short stories, novels, nonfiction books, and newspaper and magazine articles. If not for his support and keen critical evaluation of my writing I would not have published my book. Thanks Keith!

Keith B. Darrell was abducted as an infant by evil Fae creatures, who replaced the author in his crib with a changeling doppelganger. By age 24,the changeling known as Keith B. Darrell had earned his A.A. from Broward Community College, his B.S. in Journalism from the University of Florida, his M.B.A.from Emory University, and his J.D. from the Emory University School of Law. He went on to become a member of the State Bar of Georgia and the Florida Bar.

Darrell is a cross-genre writer of speculative fiction, flash fiction, fusion fiction, fantasy, contemporary fantasy, urban fiction, sword & sorcery, science fiction, dystopian fiction, apocalyptic fiction, horror, slice of life, political and sociological fiction, humor, drama, gothic mystery, children’s fiction, young adult fiction and nonfiction. His short stories have appeared in three collections, Shards, Randoms,and Careywood, as well as in Kindle short story format e-books available from the Amazon.com Kindle store.

Website www.keithbdarrell.com .  Twitter @Keith_B_Darrell

 

 

Michael Cantwell

Michael Cantwell, CCIM is an author and commercial real estate agent in Florida as well as a published photographer. He was born in Ft. Campbell KY, raised in Trenton, NJ, graduated college at LaSalle University in Philadelphia, PA. He now resides in Palm Beach County, Florida.

Website:www.ksmmike.com                              Blog:http://ksmmike.blogspot.com/

Twitter @ksmmike

 

Dr. Shirley Press

In 2001, Dr. Shirley Presswon big in the Florida Lottery. In her book, Dr. Press takes
readers on a tour of her life from a poor girl in Camden, NJ of Holocaust survivor
parents to becoming a doctor and a lottery winner and the lessons learned from her journey.
PRESSING MY LUCK: A DOCTOR’S LOTTERY JOURNEY
Written by Shirley Press, MD. Published by Re-Spin Publishing Paperback, 274 pages. Paperback and kindle versions are available at Amazon. ePub versions are available at iTunes, Barnes & Noble, Kobo and Smashwords. For more information, visit http://www.shirleypress.com.

Twitter@ ShirleyPress

website blog  http://shirleypress.com/blog/ –

 

 

Appanshayal: My Spirit Guide

When the Lotus Blooms, , , , , , , , , ,

Appanshayal

Appanshayal was my paternal great-great grandfather. My father spoke very fondly of his memories of visits to his grandfather’s home in Nagarcoil. It was almost as though he venerated his Grandfather Nilakanta Ayyar and more so his Great Grandfather Appanshayal. When I wrote this book I felt connected very deeply to my ancestors. As I wrote, I couldn’t help feeling they spoke to me, revealing their characters, their innermost thoughts and their lives. My writing style devotes a chapter to each character and I would meditate each morning asking for insight. Then I would go to my computer and write whatever came to mind. Nothing in this book was planned and it’s a miracle it all came together, because I had no idea where my imagination would lead me.

Each one of us has a special spirit guide whose presence we feel often when we avoid a dangerous situation or solve a complex problem. At such time we surprise ourselves and attribute such mini-miracles  to destiny, ESP or sheer brilliance. Such solutions spring from the inner spirit and have no reason to become known. This is when we feel the presence of the Divine and attribute it to heavenly intervention. It is said that ancestors and spirit guides communicate to us through such thoughts, notions, feelings and ideas and I have spent a good chunk of my time pondering this, wondering if I had such a guide. Who was this heavenly entity? Would this truth ever be revealed to me? When I meditate, I often ask for my spirit guide to reveal himself and most often the face of Appanshayal pops into my mind. I have no idea if indeed he is my guide or it’s just that I have this deep reverence for him. All I know is that I connect with him. This photograph is of Appanshayal with my grandfather Mahadevan. Look at the strength he emanates and the nobility of his posture.

Little tidbits of information became paragraphs and chapters. For some strange reason I wrote this episode when Appanshayal cures a young boy of a snake bite. I knew he was a yogi and very knowledgeable about Ayurveda but when my mother sent me this photograph of him I had gooseflesh. I was shocked at what I saw. The photograph was old and had some sort of impression next to the old man. It was without doubt an  impression of a King Cobra poised to strike.. Miracle or coincidence ? Who knows?

Here is an excerpt from my book ,When the Lotus Blooms…

Kandu ran to the outhouse where his great-grandfather Appanshayal lived, a quaint little house which he loved visiting. The outhouse had two rooms. The back room had plenty of books and on one side was a bedroll where the old man slept, meditated and prayed. One wall was covered with images of different gods and goddesses, under which was the pooja altar with many silver idols. Appanshayal met his patients in the front room. A low platform covered with a thin mattress stood on one side of the room. On the other side were shelves filled with glass jars, each containing a different herb or root. Appanshayal was very interested in herbal remedies, a very important branch of Ayurveda, the ancient system of Vedic medicine, and had trained under a famous teacher for many years.

  People had complete faith in Ayurveds and went to them for any and every ailment. Remedies existed for every conceivable disease, from snake and scorpion bites, to constipation and diabetes. Appanshayal got some of the herbs locally but every year, he made a trip to a hillock near Cape Comorin, where plenty of medicinal herbs are found, and spent many days physically collecting the herbs and roots he needed to make his medications.

Appanshayal ran a free clinic in his front room, and every evening for two hours he attended to numerous patients, mainly locals and villagers from nearby villages. He was especially known for his expertise in treating snake and scorpion bites.

When Kandu walked in, he saw his great-grandfather seated on the floor, his brown spectacles hanging on the edge of his nose, as he ground some herbs using a mortar and pestle.

“Hello, Appanshayal Thatha. What are you doing? Can I help you?”

“Who is that? Kandu? Come come. I was waiting for you. Do you want to help me? I find it hard to keep getting up, so maybe you can get me the jars I need.”

For the next few hours Kandu assisted his great-grandfather, helping to make all sorts of potions and powders, some of which were brewed in a pot over a small outside stove. Around lunchtime a man came running in with a small child in his arms. He was out of breath and crying. The inert child’s head lolled backward. Appanshayal knew immediately that it was a snake bite but the father had no idea how it occurred and exactly what type of snake had bitten the child. Very often the offending snake would be non-poisonous but the villagers, thinking they were bitten by a poisonous snake, would get all the symptoms and almost be near death, such was the power of the mind. The young boy was already exhibiting many symptoms. He was warm and in a semi-conscious state. The wound was red and swollen and the fang marks were clearly visible.

“Do you know how long ago it happened?”

“Maybe ten minutes ago. I don’t know. I picked him up and ran all the way. I live down the road, so it could not have been too long.”

“Did you see the snake?” Every bit of information was important for clues to decide on the right treatment.

“I only saw it disappearing into the bushes. It was black and maybe three feet long.”

“Probably a King Cobra,” said Appanshayal, judging by the bite and the father’s description. To Kandu’s horror, he put his mouth against the wound and started sucking the blood and spitting it out. After several minutes of that, he placed the child on the bed, making sure that the boy’s hand hung down at a lower level, so the poison would take longer to travel through the body. The poison was thick and slow moving but ten minutes had passed since the bite. Still Appanshayal knew if he slowed down the flow of blood to the rest of the body, the symptoms would become less severe.

Kandu sat down near the boy. “Is he alive or dead?” he asked, his voice low. He had never seen anyone so sick ever before.

“He is alive but the symptoms have manifested.”

Appanshayal combined his herbs and soon returned with two remedies. He put the one with a thick consistency directly on the wound and then began forcing a liquid potion into the child’s mouth.

After almost an hour, the child’s eyes fluttered open. The father, who had been beating his chest and lamenting the impending loss of his only son, was instead crying afresh at the unbelievable miracle. He fell down on the floor at Appanshayal’s feet, calling him a god, a savior, which embarrassed the old man. He handed the boy’s father the liquid potion and told him to give it to his son along with fresh honey for the next few days.

Maya Angelou: A Legacy of Hope

When the Lotus Blooms, women's empowerment, , , , ,

Maya Angelou  born Marguerite Ann Johnson; (April 4, 1928 – May 28, 2014) was an American author and poet, who is best known for her seven autobiographies, based on her incredible life experiences. Her books focus on themes such as racism, identity, family, and travel. Added to this list are several books of exemplary poetry and plays.

When I read her biography, I was dumbstruck by how much she has achieved in a single lifetime with all the odds stacked against her. She was an African American woman, a single mother with two known marriages. (One inter-racial) In addition she had no spectacular college degree or wealth to speak of. Yet in her lifetime she was honored with over 30 honorary college degrees besides winning the Pulitzer Prize, a Tony Award and the Presidential Medal of Freedom. Her life was filled with rich experiences, a painful and difficult childhood and words that emerged from her pain were poignant, because they surfaced from her core, her spirit. She didn’t stop at writing, she was also actively involved with the Civil Rights Movement both with King and Malcolm X.  She had the honor of speaking both at Bill Clinton’s inauguration and more recently at the historic Obama inauguration.

One record of her past touched me deeply. At the age of eight, while living with her mother, Angelou was sexually abused and raped by her mother’s boyfriend, a man named Freeman. She confided in  her brother, who told the rest of their family. Freeman was found guilty but was jailed for only one day. Four days after his release, he was murdered, probably by Angelou’s uncles Angelou became mute for almost five years, believing that it was her voice that killed him.  In the silence that enveloped her, Maya developed her love for the written word and the ability to dissect human emotion and drama at a cellular level. Maya Angelou often checked into a hotel and wrote her stories on legal pads. No computers and no typewriters!!

Maya Angelou represents the quintessence of African American writing and her absence will be felt in the literary community. Her legacy is not merely one of literary achievements, it represents hope, to achieve an impossible dream, motivation to maximize ones hidden potential and inspiration to break out of imaginary boundaries and conquer uncharted territories.

Spotlight on Nigeria

When the Lotus Blooms, women's empowerment, , , , , , , ,

Spotlight on Nigeria

This week in the news, the spotlight is on Nigeria where a local Islamic Fundamentalist group, Boko Haram has kidnapped more than 200 young girls . The Twitter hashtag “#BringBackOurGirls” has been trending at various points since the girls were taken, with many users from around the world demanding a swift rescue of the girls. The horror of their plight is worsened in the knowledge that the group plan to use and sell these women as sex slaves.

What is Boko Haram?

Loosely translated from the local Hausa language, this means “Western education is forbidden”. Boko originally meant fake but came to signify Western education, while Haram means forbidden. The group is fundamentally opposed to the education of women whom they believe are born to serve men, to cook their food, bear their children and provide free sex.

Schools were the hunting grounds for new “Jihadis” but as the group escalated into horrific violence, now commonplace in so many parts of Africa, they popularly came to be known as the Nigerian Taliban, despite no official connection with the mother organization. The group’s leader, Abubakar Shekau gloated “I abducted your girls. There is a market for selling humans. Allah says I should sell. He commands me to sell.”

Islam and women

Neither the Koran nor Allah ever expounded any theory of deliberate suppression of women. In fact men only took more than one wife only if they could treat them all equally. Islam is one of the few religions that allows the woman to divorce her husband-Talaq. In fact, the husband has to return the “Mehr,” the bride price paid at the time of marriage. Mr. Abubakar is delusional and is venting his own psychological emasculation by enslaving innocent girls. It is unfortunate that men, Islamic or otherwise contort religion to give rationale for their own inadequacies. Education of women is seen as a threat, as men don’t wish to lose their control, which is a natural corollary when educated women  join the work force and gain financial freedom. Here in the US, women still earn 30% less than men and it makes me wonder, if Hillary Clinton becomes President, will they pay her 30% less? It is regrettable that one needs an incident as horrific as this one to make the world rise from their slumber and examine more fundamental issues. Issues that govern how men view women but more importantly how women view themselves.

World view of women

Women’s issues have preoccupied me and it comes out in my writing. When the Lotus Blooms, my first published book highlights several issues pertaining to women and though set in the 1930s are valid even today.This world view of women as basically inferior is at the core of all violence against women and this disease is rampant, touching every society in every country. Why do we raise our daughters to cook while our sons can play outside? How many women, after a 40 hour work week, cook Sunday dinner while their husbands watch the game with a six-pack of beer handy. Our children learn from our habits and imbibe hidden messages through our body language and the legacy persists. A 30 year old unmarried daughter is a liability who could potentially become an “old maid” while her male counterpart is a bachelor “enjoying life.” Hindu marriages concretize the belief that women are “property” in a ritual called Kanyadaanwhere the father gives his daughter as a gift or offering to her husband. Today, we continue this ritual in our marriages without examining its hidden meaning and what this means for the emancipation of women.

Emancipation of Women

Freedom doesn’t come solely with voting rights and equal opportunities. As long as we treat women differently from men, as long as we assign roles to women, as long as overtly or covertly subscribe to the superiority of men we can never stop the rabid abuse of women. The plight of these Nigerian women should make each one of us examine why world over this patriarchal belief system reigns supreme? Why do women need looking after? Why should  the destiny of women need to be controlled by men?  Are we unconsciously enabling the subjugation of women? Does the very fabric of society, the complex web of inter-gender relationships need to be re examined? And the last rhetorical question- Are we as women in some way responsible for these crimes being perpetuated against us?

Pongalo Pongal

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Today on the occasion of Makara Sankranthi I was reliving the time I wrote an entire chapter in my book “When the Lotus Blooms,” about the festival of Pongal.

Pongal is a harvest festival, very important for farmers. For Tamils, it is a big occasion, with lots of preparation and festivity. Initially a celebration of the winter harvest, for farmers who toiled all year in the fields, Pongal celebrates the bounty of nature with great fanfare.

Many people believe it is Tamil New Year but that comes later in the year. I have very fond memories of Pongal which we thoroughly enjoyed especially if my grandmother Rajam was with us, as she was an outstanding cook. That was the only day in the year my mother allowed us to chew on sugar cane which she bought and washed thoroughly with soap and boiled water before serving us. Even though I grew up in Bombay I was never allowed to drink the notorious, diarrhea inducing sugarcane juice on the streets.

What was even more enjoyable was ‘Kanu” the next day. The colorful rice always attracted me and I loved watching the crows and sparrows vie with each other to get at the banana leaf laden with colored rice balls. I also remember how mad my mother got one time when our dog Raja decided to polish off the food! I didn’t realize we must be selective about our offerings.

The scene in the book shows the family gathered around the pongal pot which boils over, signifying prosperity in the future. Velandi the parayan watches the food being cooked, while hunger pangs in his belly distract him. Celebration in one household becomes the reason for envy in another.  The scene exemplifies opposites which continually rule our lives. Hunger and harvest, prosperity and desperation, bounty and death are all juxtaposed, mirroring the duality of perspective. Here is an excerpt from the book.

Nagamma had already put the rice and lentils into the pongal paanai and Sushila added the jaggery. The fire beneath the pot was flaming, burning bright and strong as the men kept adding more firewood so the pongal could boil faster. Balu had his brass plate and spoon ready and waited impatiently for the pongal to boil over. The water simmered as Nagamma added the milk. She turned to the family. “Pray all of you that as this pot of pongal boils over, so does our life boil over with good events and happiness.” She barely finished speaking when Balu noticed the pongal rapidly rising to the top of the clay pot.

“Pongalo pongal!” he yelled gleefully, hammering his spoon against the brass plate. Everyone shouted in unison, “Pongalo pongal!” clapping their hands and shouting as loudly as they could. Rajam stuck her tongue half out of her mouth, rapidly moving it from side to side in a warble louder than Sushila’s. Balu looked at her and tried to mimic her, but no one could hear his soft voice amidst the din. Rapidly removing some sticks of the firewood from under the pot, Nagamma reduced the intensity of the flame. The evil spirits hovering around the house were sure to have been frightened away with the racket they made. Rajam closed her eyes and prayed for all bad events to end and for new happy moments to surround their lives. In her mind she knew she was only praying for that one elusive event to take place.

When the Lotus Blooms has won two awards, one at the Great Southeast Book Festival and the other at the New England Book Festival.

The Dalai Lama endorses my new book ‘The Present: a gift from the Divine’

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Holding onto  a dream 

Publishing When the Lotus Blooms was the realization of a dream. Many felt I would not be able to do it but I had supreme confidence in myself as a story teller. In spite of a million setbacks I self published in the US and got Supernova Publishers in India to market my book. Over 3000 copies of the book have been sold so far. A small achievement but a dream realized nonetheless.

Getting endorsements. 

No book sells unless recommended by someone important and I needed to get a well known name promoting my book. My mother and Lily Tharoor are old friends and through her I managed to get Shashi Tharoor’s office address after which I pestered his secretary for three months. Eventually I got the Foreword which is an added adornment to a book written as an offering of thanks to my first Guru: my mother.

The Power of Meditation

I perhaps would never have realized this latent talent for writing if my mind had continued to swirl in the small mind, with all my problems and daily irritations. Sudarshan Kriya and meditation transformed my life because it quietened the mind sufficiently to allow my natural talent to surface. This jump started my spiritual search and the transformation in my character, my ideals and values was so stark I had to express my gratitude to my spiritual Guru; My master Sri Sri Ravi Shankar without whose guidance my life would have remained colorless. His knowledge sheets became my daily inspiration and the move from the head to the heart was now in motion.

My foray into Inspirational-non-fiction

After I received SriSri’s verbal permission to write a book on the movement, I began reaching out to people within the Art of Living who had stories of such transformation. For two years I interviewed over a hundred people from countries like Togo, Argentina, Bosnia and Georgia, men an women with different ethnicities, race and religions affirmations. The common denominator was that all of them practiced the breathing and all experienced the transformation in different aspects of their life.

The Present: a gift from the Divine

The actual book spilled out over two months during which I wrote for 12-14 hours a day. It felt as though it was written through me and I was a mere spectator. Only the Grace of the Divine through my master allowed this to happen. I realized that life takes place in the present moment and all you require is a fistful of faith, gratitude and courage.

Shooting for the stars

In January, I was at the Hyderabad Literary Fair and someone asked me how I got an endorsement from Tharoor for my very first book. I remember laughing and telling them to wait and see how I would get the Dalai Lama to endorse my second. I knew I was aiming out of my reach but I had to try or forever regret my lack of effort. I spoke several times to my publisher and finally persuaded them to write on my behalf to some important people. They made requests to Dr. Karan Singh who immediately obliged with a fabulous message. Both President Abdul Kalam and the Dalai Lama‘s office kept prevaricating. Finally in the beginning of May, Kalam turned down our request and my editor felt nothing was going to come from the Dalai Lama’s office either. I gave up that dream believing it wasn’t in my destiny but within me was that Sankalpa, a tiny spark of intention that the Divine would take care of me because my intention for writing this book was pure.

A Monday morning Surprise.

Mondays always begin with a low note with hundreds of junk emails on my IPhone, so imagine my surprise when I received an email from my editor telling me that patience had paid off. I  continued to read and to my surprise she had attached an email from The Office of the Dalai Lama telling us the committee had reviewed my manuscript and that the Dalai Lama was  happy to endorse the book if we were still interested. My eyes were filled with tears of gratitude.

I must be the luckiest person in this world. I have had the fortune to write about the greatest spiritual leader of our time and am now endorsed by another globally acclaimed spiritual Giant: The kind and compassionate Dalai Lama

It pays to dream

,

My Friend Christine

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In a world where everyone is immersed in their own circle of problems and work, it is refreshing to find a friend who takes a day off to support you and be there for you. Christine and myself spent a lovely afternoon together at the Miami Book Fair, for the second time. Looks like we might be on our way to making this an annual tradition.

I met Christine quite by chance at a writer’s group. She loved what I was reading, which at the time was an excerpt from the unpublished manuscript of “When the Lotus Blooms.”I never imagined that she would volunteer to read and edit the book before it went to print. We met for coffee and I gave her a draft of the manuscript. Christine gave me a whole bunch of tips on what I should do in terms of marketing my book in terms of social networking.

Christine has an amazing eye for detail and can find errors no one else sees. She was a very valuable resource when it came to presenting material in a way that non-Indian readers would appreciate it. Sometimes while writing you tend to use words you are very familiar with without realizing that an international audience requires more detailed explanation.

Christine’s recent passion is her new website , “I see dead Books,” a beautiful journey into old and forgotten book treasures. Christine Zambrano is an amazing, loving, warm and caring person. She always sports a cheery smile and her nature just comes through. She is talented at what she does and you can see from her review of my book, she writes beautifully. I cant wait to read her first book whenever she is ready to publish, although something tells me that I might be involved in the editing .:))

My Childhood Friend Ranjo Writes a Review in the Financial Times

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I met Ranjo when I moved to Bombay at the age of nine and we hit it off immediately. While the others played Hide and Seek, we discussed the world’s problems and our philosophy on life. Our family’s were close friends and growing up with her and her baby sister Mona, was so much fun. She was an “intellectual” even at the age of ten and I knew she would take up writing as a profession. With an incisive and critical eye she took a stand for what she believed in. This is how I remember her.

What I didnt envision was my writing a book and her reviewing it. All the characters Rajam and Muumy, she knew well growing up, yet her review is balanced and very complimentary. Our soul connection will never go and I hope I can return the favor to her some day.

Here is a sample of her review.

The skill that has been displayed in dipping into all these issues without losing the human stories of both Rajam and Dharmu is remarkable. The author does not fail to make the point that women were forced to live subservient lives in a patriarchal society, no matter how strong or powerful they may be. Even Nagamma, who controls her family with an iron fist and no perceptible velvet glove, is limited to being a domineering householder. There is no outside role for a woman of her capabilities.

To read the full review go to my blog. Ranjona Banerji currently resides in Mumbai and works as a freelance journalist. This was our last meeting in Bombay. 

I enjoyed this post which Ranjo wrote featured in the Mid Day on the Guwahati molestation.

World Bank Bookstore Stocks When the Lotus Blooms

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When I self published, I had no real plans of approaching bookstores; but when the opportunity came up I was all for it. Some exposure is better than no exposure.When my daughter Karunya mentioned the bookstore in the World Bank shelved fiction and were open to self published authors, I was really excited. Here was an opportunity for me to reach out to a multicultural audience. The Manager at the World Bank Infoshoplooked at my website and ordered 3 copies.

Here is a list of Indie Bookstores in the US listed by state. The only problem is that one needs to check each one out individually before approaching them. For a self published author this might be tedious and really not that profitable. Most bookstores take 50% of the cost and if you deduct the price of printing and shipping, it leaves you with a measly 25 cents:((

I go by recommendation and right now I have 2 stores stocking my book. Who knows what the future holds for me.

Books & Books

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Being a Self Published author using Print on Demand, I had grown accustomed to the idea that I would not sell to Bookstores. It was too much work and book keeping is certainly not my forte.

But my dear friend Teva kept telling me about her friend who was manager for Books & Books  one of the leading bookstores in the Miami area often referred to as the Mecca of Miami. It wasn’t until April that we managed to arrange a meeting.

Books and Books on Lincoln Road is a charming store with an ambiance of its own; part bohemian and part erudite. Vivienne, the Store Manager, was such a joy to meet. I had prepared my speech to sell the book to her and was quite taken aback when she just took the books from me and gave me an invoice for it. My book was in.

Imagine my surprise when the following week I see a picture of the book kept with all the bestsellers. The store hosts over 50 events monthly and it very hard to get included for a book reading but like everything about my life I don’t give up hope. I keep trying and I know it will work out.

Check out the website and the next time you are in the store pick up your copy of “When the Lotus Blooms.”