Saz Vora's Blog, page 3

Celebration & Remembrance

Brighton Pavilion, India Gate and a hand crochet poppy for the British Legions Poppy Appeal

This time of the year is an important time for humans since ancient times. I’ve always been fascinated by the fire festivals around the world and why is it that so many happen in autumn. Not all feature lights or fireworks, many give thanks for the bountiful harvest. I’ve already mentioned Navratri. For Hindu’s the autumn is full of celebration, we start with Navratri, Gujaratis fast and dance to celebrate the nine manifestations of Durga, the divine power of the feminine. Other states fast for the nine days and in Bengali communities there is a celebration of Durga who in the manifestation as Chamunda, vanquishes the demons, Chanda, Munda, and Rakthabi.

As a celebration of my love of Navratri, I launched my YouTube Channel during Navratri with a reading from My Heart Sings Your Song. It was something I’d put off for far too long, but I’ve taken the plunge after all. It was my stock in trade. I should be able to churn these videos out in my sleep. 

In my last blog I mentioned that I was going to be on Ealing Libraries Facebook, hosted by Natasha Joneja from South Asian Writers. If you didn’t have time to see it on the day. I've included a link at the end of this paragraph. I find it difficult to be in front of the camera, but I’ve decided that I must do more, and so the celebration aspect is just that. I’m celebrating my achievements. Often we don’t celebrate how awesome we are! Our Stories Our Voices did just that, starting with Noor Inayat-Khan, also known as Nora Inayat-Khan, the British spy Madeleine by Sufiya Ahmed. A celebration of a strong south Asian woman, who had a blue plaque unveiled in London.  The story of Taji Kaur/Rasheed Begum, a story of being ripped apart from family during partition written by her granddaughter, Fozia Raja.  And finally, I’m celebrating my achievement that I’ve told my story about how so many south Asian women straddles both cultures. 

Next we have Diwali, the festival of lights, the day Rama and Sita return to Ayodhya after vanquishing Ravana, the all powerful demon. It’s a tale full of love, cooperation, and devotion. Whenever there is Rama there is always mention of the others who accompanied him, the Ram Chalisa shows Rama, his wife Sita, his brother Laxman and Hanuman, his beloved devotee. There is significance for this imagery, to defeat this particular evil Rama needed, not only his wife by his side, but he needed his brother and his devotee. It is a tale of cooperation between humans and animals working together to defeat a great evil. Sikhs also celebrate Diwali. It is the celebration of the release of Guru Hargobind and the 52 princes by the emperor Jehangir in the 17th century. Again, it shows devotion and cooperation. The princes who were imprisoned with him were dismayed that they would lose a spiritual leader, and Guru Hargobind asked Jehangir to release them. The emperor agreed but restricted the number of princes by telling the Guru as long as they can hold on to his coat they would be free to go. Guru Hargobind had a special coat made with 52 hems, so they followed him out of jail.

Reviews and Book Tour

Book Tour - 14th to the 23rd November

To celebrate Diwali, I’m running a Book Tour that starts on the 14th to the 23rd November, I will discount the ebook to 99p/99c. I've discovered as an indie author getting reviews is the only way to get more people to read my book. I don’t have a publisher or an agent at the moment, so have engaged some book bloggers and authors to provide me with reviews. I’m writing more reviews for indie authors whose books I’ve read, because indie authors should help indie authors more, period.

Here’s an editorial review I received for Where Have We Come another reason to celebrate.

Where Have We Come is sincere and raw, a real tear-jerker.

Indie Today

Teeming with Gujarati culture and steeped in tradition, Where Have We Come – A story of love, loss and family proves to be exactly that. Reena and Nik begin the story so filled with love and joy that it feels like a fairytale. Then comes the sharply felt and poignantly written heartbreak and loss. Saz Vora provides honest insight into the prejudices and trials that haunt couples from different backgrounds and highlights the value of both loyal friends and dedicated family when dealing with depression and insecurity that comes with adversity.

Remembrance

Everyone is talking about lockdown and cancelling Christmas, but spare a thought for all those Hindus and Sikhs who will not be spending this year's Diwali with their loved ones. I’m not sure watching fireworks on Zoom is the same as standing in my sister’s back garden in Southall watching the sky filled with fireworks, twisting and twirling, the sound of rockets whizzing upwards and the barrage of bangs. It is a memory that has been with me for so long. A display even bigger than the fireworks display we used to go to for Guy Fawkes Night, another tradition that takes place at this time of the year in the UK.  Guy Fawkes Night marks the bonfires lit by the people after the failed attempt by The Gunpowder Plot to blow up Parliament and James I. So take heart from the remembrance, this lock down is to protect the spread of the virus to those people who are most vulnerable but also to ease the pressure on our NHS. A group of dedicated professionals who have devoted their lives to save and care of others.

Brighton Pavilion - Summer 2020

November is also the month we celebrate the lives of the fallen in the World Wars, in Commonwealth countries we have Remembrance Sunday on the 11th of November, the day hostilities ended in the First World War, in the USA its Veterans Day. I have always recognised the fallen in the World Wars; I know of no-one who fought from my family, but I know of the many South Asian soldiers who perished. The first time I went to Brighton in the 80s I came across the Brighton Pavilion and India Gate. I was curious why a palace was built in the style of an Indian palace, yes I know India was part of the British Empire and the reason why George IV built it, but what piqued my curiosity was India Gate and the inscription. 

This gateway is the gift of India in commemoration of her sons who - stricken in the Great War – were tended in the Pavilion in 1914 and 1915 .

In 1921 the Maharaja of Patliana donated the India Gate as a gift to the people of Brighton for providing shelter to India’s wounded.

During the First World War, the people of Brighton transformed the Pavilion into a military hospital. From December 1914 to January 1916, over 2,300 sick and wounded soldiers from the Indian Army were treated in the former palace. Because the Indian Army was made up of Hindu, Sikhs and Muslims there were arrangements made to cater for the patients' variety of religious and cultural needs. Muslims were given space on the eastern lawns to pray facing towards Mecca, while Sikhs were provided with a tented gurdwara in the grounds. Another example of cooperation from the people of the empire to come to the aid of Europe.  There is more on the history of Indian soldiers and their testimony on Brighton Pavilion YouTube channel.

The main image is of our visit to Brighton this summer and the wonderful crochet poppies is something my sister is making for the British Legion’s Poppy appeal. I’ve included a visit to Brighton in My heart Sings Your Song where Nik proposes to Ree and if you’ve listened to We Found Love in the 80s, my husband didn’t propose - but then again isn’t that all about the patriarchy having the upper hand, and that we women should expect a man to go down on his knees, gives us a sparkly expensive ring that only he can buy to tell us he’s brought our love and devotion for eternity. I didn’t need the proposal; I knew we were a partnership and we still are.

Writing Help - NaNoWriMo

National Writing Month is the annual creative project to get people to write with pep talks from published authors and a whole community to get you started on your writing journey. If you are struggling to hit your word count target and want help, why don’t you sign-up and find a support group nearby. I’m going to start my second duet with the story of Sonali and Deepak. I have two and half notebooks, filled with scenes, dialogues, sketches, mind map, notecards, a song list and have started a Pinterest of what the characters look like.

Notebooks for the next University Series Duet - The story of Sonali & Deepak

An update of my standalone, Made in Heaven for Me. It’s back, the lovely Claire my editor/ proofreader has sent it back and I’m now reading and accepting changes. Once I’m happy with that I’ll start the formatting process, this time I’m going to do it differently. When I published My Heart Sings Your Song, I uploaded the word document onto Draft 2 Digital and used their software to create an ePub and Mobi file to publish on Amazon, Apple books, Barnes and Nobles Nook, Rakuten Kobo and Google. I want to do the same again, but I’m working on the print version too. To get a first chapters preview of the story from Story Origin, sign up, it's a great place to get new releases, sample chapters and book promotions.

Excerpt

Remembering - My junior school teacher Mr Morris, who said I could become a Graphic Designer and work at the BBC, ambition number 1, and I admired him so much, ambition number 2 Teacher, two things I’ve achieved, and he gave me my nick name. That story is for another time.

In Hema’s story: Mr Morris has become Mr Hodgett and Art has become languages, but you know what I mean, that one teacher who put you on the right track.

Another thing I have in common with Harry is a magical gift that I discovered in the last term of junior school. Mine is languages. I had always picked up languages quickly and hadn’t thought twice that I spoke Gujarati, Hindi, Punjabi and Polish. It was when my form tutor, Mr Hodgett, instructed me I had talent after getting the highest score in the French test that I believed I was gifted.

Have a lovely time celebrating and remembering this autumn, Happy Halloween, Happy Bonfire Night, Remembrance Day, Happy Diwali, and Happy Thanksgiving.

Autumn and other .... stuff

“Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans.”

— John Lennon as we remember him on his 80th birthday

It's been tough these past weeks, everyone fearful that the virus is spreading again. Confusion reigns. Only six people can meet in doors, is it the same six people in your bubble? Or can you meet with five different people, one after the other? Are children counted as the six? What about restaurants and pubs? The questions that haunt us all in this time of uncertainty. It’s far too complicated. I feel for all the people who had shielded for so long and had met with loved ones again. The people who are suffering from isolation, and the increasing levels of anxiety.

Saturday 10th October is World Mental Health Day. There are lots of events being organised to help keep you buoyant, these are the two I’m supporting.

Join Shruti Shah in a free online Dance Workshop in collaboration with Imperial College and hosted by  Bollywood Dance School on Saturday 10th October GMT to raise awareness for UKAFF Talking Therapy service. Click on the poster to register to dance.

 

Join The Circle’s first ever ‘Girls Global Dance Hour’ on 11 October to celebrate International Day of the Girl 2020. #WeDanceForGirls. Click on the poster to take you to the purchase your ticket.

Setting up for Zoom call for DESIblitz Online Literary Festival

Thank you for everyone who supported me and asked some wonderful questions on why I wrote my books. I’ll add a link to my interview once it's up on my website’s contact page.

We Found Love in the 80s

Artist Dawinder Bansal interviewed me and my other half about how we met 39 years ago and finally became a couple in the 80s. She has paired up with musician Martyn Ware - founder of The Human League and Heaven 17 - to celebrate couples who found love in the 1980s. The initial project was to create a sound scape and an immersive experience, but COVID has put a hold on it. There was a premiere screening at Leytonstone Love Film Festival and a Q&A with Dawinder and Martin. Look out for more opportunities to watch this fascinating film and if you have a story about finding your love in the 1980s, go to their website to add your photographs, videos and memories. She is aiming to collect 80 stories. www.wefoundloveinthe80s.com

Celebrating Navratri at the Krishna Mandir, Coventry 2019

Navratri Festival

Next Saturday the 17th October is the start of Navratri, one of my favourite festivals in the Hindu calendar, us Gujarati celebrate with abandonment, the garba and dandiya raas around the shrine to the nine manifestation of Durga, the all powerful goddess.

I have a favourite song, ‘Ek vanchara jula jumbh thi ja’ roughly translated it’s about a devotee who dances in a trance, well that’s what I think. My Gujarati isn’t pure, a mixture of English, Swahili and Gujarati. In the late 90s and early 00s we used to go regularly, work permitting and then the children had too much homework and we stopped, even at the weekend.

Every time I hear this song it takes me back to Navratri at the Krishna Mandir in Coventry, not the new one but the one on Stoney Stanton Road, the garba sung by JD Panchal, and all the other people that worshipped at the temple. Different caste and community getting together to dance the garba and dandiya raas for the duration of the festival. My sister and I would rush home from school, quickly eat shaak and rotli, get changed into our sarees or chanyia choli, pick up our carrier bag with our dandiya, a drink, a packet of crisps and head out to the temple. We would clap hands and do the garba round the central shrine non-stop. At 9 o’clock we would stop for a prayer to the goddesses with the arti. Followed by dandiya raas, once the Krishna Mandir wound down, a group of us, boys and girls dressed in our flimsy Indian clothes, would walk to the Ram Mandir further up Stoney Stanton Road to continue dancing the night away. Not a night club, no alcohol, just the joy of dancing. We’d get back home at midnight eat dall baath and go to bed to start the same again, school, home, two mandirs, home, sleep. Nine days of freedom and lots of fun with our friends. It’s not the same anymore, the pressure of homework, bedtime routine, and conscience parents preventing the youngsters from staying out ‘til late. The communities have split into different groups and areas. Navratri costs money now, the kids aren’t interested, too busy playing on their PS2, watching TV shows on Netflix. I know there are a group of people trying to revive the tradition in England. Oh, the joy of dancing and waking up the next day without an aching bone. I will try and find a virtual Navratri session on Zoom, but it won’t be the same. Like everything else we’re all learning to adapt to new situations.

Writing Help

So you have a story, it's been buzzing in your mind for years, but you can’t seem to work with it. You’ve tried everything to put it on paper and all you’ve got is a pile of scrunched up sheets in your bin. Maybe you need to think outside the box. 

For me I write scenes, see photo for Where Have We Come in its original guise, before it became two books, split into My Heart Sings Your Song and Where Have We Come.

Where Have We Come spreadsheet

I write most of my scenes in notebooks, a dialogue here, a scene there, and then I write on Word on Google drive. So the major thrust of the novel is nearly there. Others create a mind-map, synopsis, the beat sheets, a road map, a character sketch. It really doesn’t matter what you do, but you have to start somewhere. Throw nothing away, keep all of it, the note on a piece of paper, the recording on your phone of a dialogue, everything. If you see something on your walks take a picture.  

Once I have my scenes, I jot them on a piece of paper and created a mind - map and add arrows to link them. I create chapters, sent them to trusted friends who give me an honest opinion. I takes over a year, juggling the scenes around, creating drafts. Reflecting on it, this process really helps me.

Made in Heaven for Me, due to come out in December was created like this during lock down, it’s inspired by Jane Eyre, so the rough outline was already there, I just needed to fill in my scenes, my characters, my dialogue. But this time instead of using a general word template I used Reedsy’s romance template, don’t be put off by the title, it can be changed for other Genre too, and you’ll have a cool-looking book, formatted as it should be, with chapter breaks, page numbers, etc. I’m always happy to help set in the right direction so drop a comment below and I’ll try and help.

Romance Book Template

Upcoming Event - Spread the word

Our Stories, Our Voices will be taking place virtually on the 13th October at 7pm via Zoom and Facebook Live.

Ealing Libraries in collaboration with South Asian Writers & Pitshanger Books present Our Stories Our Voices with Fozia Raja - Daughters of Partition, Sufiya Ahmed - Noor-Un-Nissa Inayat Khan, and me. Natasha Joneja will chair the session as we will discuss the strength and resilience of women and their personal histories amongst other things. Please sign up to join on the South Asian Writers website.

www.southasianwriters.com

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I did it, I'm a published author - wow wow wow wow

Paperback copies of My Heart Sings Your Song and Where Have We Come

“You got it, you’re wow, wow, wow, wow”

— In the words of Kylie Minogue, Greg Kurstin and Karen Poole

Proofs read and corrections made, colours matched, and I pressed the button to make my books live on Amazon and Ingram Sparks at the end of August. My author copies ordered from Ingram Sparks and guess what Where Have You Come arrived first. That’s a sign, right? The story of our first-born son, the inspiration for my story, the reason I wrote the books in the first place.

When the other book arrived the only song that kept buzzing in my head was You got it, you’re wow, wow, wow, wow. I’m into you, I’m into you, I can’t resist. Okay, I know that song is about a guy and how he sends Kylie crazy with lust. But I keep picking the books up and reading a chapter and just holding them to my bosom, unable to let them go, like a newborn baby.

Opening the cover pulled me back to going to school and the first day back after the summer holiday. All those pristine and shiny books, no one else had touched before you. No-one had inked in a comment, turned the corner to mark the page, the smell of fresh ink.

 It has been an incredible process; I have loved it and loathed it in equal parts. I still can’t believe it’s out in the wide world, copies in the British Library, at the Bodleian of all places. I’m sure they’re in some warehouse sitting on tall shelves. Like the storage warehouse you saw in X-Files, sterile hermetically sealed rooms. But I’m imagining them next to famous authors in the V section with the likes of Jules Verne and Voltaire. My imagination running wild. Someone coming across them so in the distant future and finding them there. “Oh, who is Saz Vora?” They flick through a few of chapters to see what’s written on the page, read the blurb, gaze intently at the cover. That’s how long it will take for someone in the bookshop to decide and it is very daunting, that whoever picks them up will decide on that read of that one chapter. I’m feeling a bit sick thinking about that right now. Let’s move on, shall we?

I’m sharing an extract for Where Have We Come, the book that arrived first in my head and in my mailbox last week. It’s the second book in my University- Reena and Nikesh Series.

The days merge together; the cold, dark, short days are slowly replaced with some brighter ones. We go to Walpole Park every day. I sit with Amar by the duck pond and stare at the black water to calm me down. Sometimes Nik will go for a walk around the pond, sometimes he’ll sit with me, his hands in his pockets, his eyes locked on the water.

At weekends our life is very different. We are very different; the children come to play with Amar, and we become the bubbly, happy couple they expect us to be. We always go to the park; the older ones run around playing tag while the younger ones go to the play area to ride on the swings and the animal-shaped spring riders. They all climb on the slides, shouting encouragement as they stand at the bottom. Nik takes Amar in the baby sling as he runs and plays with the children. Before we leave, we have to go to the petting zoo to see the baby animals, the rabbits, the ducklings, the chicks and the hamsters…

At times like this, I think there is nothing wrong with Amar and we will continue to go to the park and spend time with our son for years to come until he’s too big to want to go to see the animals.

This book is more Me Before You than Bollywood romance, sometimes not all stories have a happy ending.

DESIblitz Online Literature Festival in conversation with Rubeena Kaur Mehal

Wow wow wow again. I’m taking part in the DESIblitz Online Literature Festival on the 23rd September 8.00 08.30 pm BST, its free register by clicking on name. Spread the word there’s some talented authors, poets, journalist discussing their books and life as a writer.

Photograph of some, not all of the folders, versions of my writing and publishing process

Writing the Journey

The photograph is of some not all the steps of University – Reena & Nikesh Series, plenty more sitting on the computer drive and somewhere in the ethernet, stored in pen drives. I am not a pantster, writers who come up with an idea and then let it flow. I plan, I have a three-act structure with pinch points, inciting incidents, crisis and climax. I write on paper first, and when I’m thinking I hold a pen. The notebooks are where I write about a scene, a dialogue, sometimes a whole chapter, songs that come into my mind and play and play as Kylie did. It’s just how I work. Everyone writes differently, but I think the planning beat sheet helps me keep on track. My first draft for this book is very different, Nik is very different. The outcome of the story is very different. When I came back to the book years later and read through the draft again. I scrapped most of it, some scenes I kept. They are pivotal to what happened when our son was born but Reena’s voice stayed the same. I trained to be a designer and one of the things I’ve learnt is that you can and should scrap ideas that don’t work. It doesn’t mean that that idea has gone, it will come back but in another form. Trust in your writing and creativity.

Once you’ve written your story and you are happy with it show it to someone, let another person read it and ask them for feedback. Most people are kind, although I joined a creative writing course years ago and they shredded my writing to pieces, and I stopped. Put my chapters away. Now I think about that, and what I should have done was yeah. Maybe some of it is rubbish, but I know there’s something there. You will need to develop a thick skin, that’s what all writers say and to be quite honest not everyone will like your story. It’s okay, it’s okay for people to hate your story. You got an emotion out of them, isn’t that what storytelling is all about?

Sign up to my newsletter if you haven’t, I’ll include tips of my writing journey and have recipes, song lists, teaser of my next book, the story of Hema and Rahul, set in South of France, inspired by Jane Eyre.

When orphan Hema Pattni sees her ideal summer job in The Lady, she is confident that she will get it, but a conversation with her future employer Rahul Raichura sends her senses into turmoil. Will she get her summer in the South of France or will she have to return to the misery of her childhood home with her wilful aunt and her placid uncle?

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Photograph of lavender field by Andrew Ridley - Unsplash.com

I did it, I'm a published author - part two almost there

Proof copies of My Heart Sings Your Song and Where Have We Come and the child who story I wanted to tell

We were in Brighton for the early part of last week, and before we went, I’d sent my covers and book interior to KDP expecting my proofs to when we returned, but they arrived early and we came home to these books, I couldn’t believe it. My books have been available on all e-book platforms when I say all, I mean Amazon Kindle, Apple Books, B&N Nook, Rakuten Kobo, Google, since the beginning of the year, so I shouldn’t be this excited, but I am.

For someone who grew up going to the library to pick up books to read, this is a big thing. I am an avid reader, so to hold a physical edition of my story is remarkable. When I opened the package, I couldn’t believe it, I sat with a grin on my face, unable to fathom the enormity of what I’d done.

Self-publishing has opened up a world of possibility to me as a storyteller. It’s been exciting and frustrating too, so many things to learn, but the self-publishing community has been great. I urge anyone who has a story to tell and is frustrated with the process which to be quite honest is all cloak and dagger. For someone from a BAME background, the journey is even more frustrating. For far too long, Agents and Publishing houses have been gatekeepers for our stories. They want the usual stories of immigrant struggles, brown girl pain and terrorism. We have other stories to tell, stories of love, family, the clash of culture in multicultural Britain. Meera Syal said recently in an interview that she too feels frustrated at the lack of opportunities to tell stories she wants to tell, and she’s a successful comedian, writer, actress, and playwright. So what hope is there for someone like me who doesn’t have a master’s in creative writing. Who doesn’t have thousands of social media followers; a friend in publishing who might open doors for me; an Agent who could plug my story to Publishing houses; who isn’t a young writer? Sure, things have opened up after Black Lives Matter and Bernardine Evaristo’s shared Booker Prize 2019. However, it’s still frustrating to get the rejections from Agency who ask especially for diverse stories.

So, if you have a story, you want to publish, then think of self-publishing. I had to pay for some things, but there are people in the self-publishing world who have paid nothing, using crowdfunding, learning the process through KDP University, Ingram Sparks Education Hub, and reading how-to blogs from the writing community. What I will say is that you’ll need a passion to learn something new and patience and perseverance in bucket loads. It won’t make you rich quick, but you’ll get the buzz of readers leaving lovely reviews, and for a little outlet (postage and printing costs) you’ll get your book in paperback form.

Now for the next stage, proofreading for mistakes, colour matching on book covers, then finally publishing the paperbacks.

Photograph of my inspiration to write and the artwork of book covers for Reena & Nikesh University Duet

Why Write?

So, you want to be a writer?

Before you embark on this journey, you need to ask a couple of questions to yourself.

Do you want fame?

Do you want to get off the treadmill of work, work, work and make a living from your passion?

Do you have a burning desire to tell stories?

Since I made a choice to tell my story, I’ve joined writing groups on social media. I’m like many have been on a creative writing course, read books on how to write a novel, gone to events by publishing houses for new writers. Recently, I’ve read posts by people who think that writing will stop them working their dreary day job, and they will get rich quick.

Sorry to burst your bubble but this isn’t going to happen, sure you’ve read stories of overnight sensations, of writers who have written a masterpiece in their spare time and the prose is so goddamn good publishing houses have a bidding war.

But most successful writers have spent years publishing, writing short stories, writing poems, dramas, screenplays. They have honed their craft to be recognised by the great and the good in the publishing industry. It’s a big commitment, there are indie authors who make a great living, but they’ve been in the business for a long time, releasing a book a year, creating other content to gain an audience, learning to market their books, the list goes on.

It’s tough, my idea of writers are from what I’ve seen on film and television, people who have patrons who support them, people from wealthy families, people who have servants who do the chores for them, people who go off on writing retreat. That’s not normal, I wrote my book in 2006 after joining a creative writing group and then put it away. I came back to it because I had to tell my story, I had the burning desire to get it out there, the heart-shaped photo frame is my why and that’s when my self-publishing journey began. It isn’t easy, and it can be daunting. I hope to demystify some of it for you.

Please follow me on social media and sign up to my newsletter for how to self-publish your story.

Why don’t you go home?

I heard something recently on social media that made me revisit my past, someone I know was racially abused while she was out for a walk by a passing motorist.

The murder of George Floyd, the portrayal of Black Lives Matter protests in the media, the English Defence League and other far-right groups turning up to defend statues and monuments has highlighted the disparity between the predominantly white population and people of colour. The trouble is our skin colour make us stand out. We are not British, how can we be. British means white, so the chants are out again ‘go back to Africa’, is what one group of peaceful BLM protesters heard in Hertfordshire.

I like many other families from the Caribbean, India, Pakistan, East Africa, arrived in the sixties, we came to places where we knew of friends and family who had settled. The Midlands, London, North West England where jobs were in abundance and British manufacturing was asking for workers to fill the gaps.

The first time I experienced racism for the colour of my skin came in the late 60s, Enoch Powell had delivered the ‘Rivers of Blood’ speech in Birmingham. A man deliberately reversed back into my mother and me as we walked on the pavement in Coventry and told us, “Go back home, Pakis,” my mother shocked and angry turned to him and said, “I’m Indian.”

After that incident, I saw the subtle racism. When I went to the shops, the shopkeeper would ignore me for as long as possible and serve me last. White people got priority over me. When I paid for my goods, he would point to counter to put my money down, afraid that my skin colour might rub off on him. The little signs that I was not the same, can you spell it for me, and how do you pronounce that, or you all look the same to me, dear (that one was from the deputy head at my school).

Nearly a decade later, one Saturday afternoon, a group of visiting football fans made their way back to the city centre. I was walking past Swanswell Gate when a man punched my uncle in the face and shouted, ‘Go home black bastard!’ My uncle held onto his nose and his heavily pregnant wife shouted, “Police, police,” to no avail. She held a handkerchief to his bleeding nose, and he said, “He called me black bastard, but I’m Indian.” There’s the rub. He didn’t think he was a problem in the country he called home. He genuinely believed that the continued racial troubles in Brixton, Notting Hill, was because of black youths on drugs and had nothing to do with Indians.

In the mid-eighties I was driving through the East End of London on my way to see my in-laws after a shift at the BBC and as I waited at a traffic light a group of white men, spat on my car windscreen, great big globules of spit, covered my clean windscreen as they snarled, their teeth on display and shouted “F***ing Paki. Go back to your home.”

That same year I had gone to India, the first time as an adult, and for once I thought I belonged. Everyone I encountered was brown like me. We did the usual tourist routes and while we were waiting in the reception of a hotel in Delhi, the man said to my mother, “I know you are from here, but these three are foreigners,” pointing to my father and my sister and me. That stuck with me. How did he know we weren’t Indian; we looked the same as he did, we even dressed the same as the other Indians? My mother had insisted that we wore salwar kameez while we were in India, not our usual jeans and T-shirt. No matter what we wore they knew we weren’t Indian and the brief spell of belonging was gone in those words.

Then the safety net was pulled from under us - when I say us I mean Indians, Pakistani, Bangladeshi, Arabs, people who are brown, after 9/11 in New York and 7/7 in London. Brown young men became part of the problem, they fitted the racial profiling as Muslim terrorist; Indians realised they too are the other, the alien who have invaded this green and pleasant land.

So, when someone says to me I don’t fit in with their idea of an Indian, I’m too light-skinned, I don’t have an accent, my preference for music, I shrug my shoulder. I embrace my Indian heritage when I want and don’t always embrace the customs. This is who I am, I am home, I am British, so next time anyone says, ‘Go home Paki, black bitch.’ I will be braver and say, “But I am home.”

Excerpt from My Heart Sings Your Song University - Reena and Nikesh.

Letter from Usha Solanki.

Why have we come to this land? Do you remember how happy we were to get the navy-blue passport, to get the plane ticket to begin our life in the country of our Queen?

How wrong I was to think the people here like us, want us. You don’t hear what I hear. They think I’m one of them, with my light complexion, and talk about how we smell and don’t wash and worship false idols. Then when they hear my voice, they realise I am one of the smelly, unwashed idol worshippers. They look me straight in the eye with no apology as they refuse to take money from my hand, slam doors in my face, sell me rotten fruit and vegetables.

The photograph is a set of books I’m reading for my next duet in the University Series, the story of Sonali and Deepak. The outline is ready, some scenes are written, and I have a vague idea of where the story will lead the characters. But before I start on that I am in the process of creating printed books for My Heart Sings Your Song and Where Have We Come and my new novella Made in Heaven for Me, please sign up to my newsletter and follow me on social media for updates.

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It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness.”

— A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens

 

This week is Mental Health Week, and as my writing journey started from a panic and anxiety attack, I thought I’d reflect on what is the worst of times and the best of times during lock-down.

Well-being and mental health during the lock-down is challenging, people like company, the lunch dates, the little conversations, the sessions run by mental health professionals. I know of one charitable trust who has started a telephone consultation this week and many mental health professionals have offered help through social media. But many people will slip through the cracks—the backlog of cases that require processing. The lack of physical access to GPs and support centres for those who have an increase in anxiety due to the lock-down. I have been up and down; April was incredibly tricky. A dear friend of ours lost his father. It must be difficult for those people who have lost a loved one in this pandemic, the loss of the final farewell, the rituals we all observe. I’ve learnt that goodbyes are essential not just for the dead, but for those of us left behind, we mourn the loss of our loved ones. We miss their voice, their hugs, their smells, the annoying way they always criticised us, the little things that made us want to yell. For humans, grieving is about the life lost. 

It is an age of Darkness for the people who live in poverty; this time has stretched them beyond capacity. The people who live in the gig economy, the zero-hour contractors and all the small businesses who manage from one month to the next. Mostly I’ve been thinking of my friends who work in the film and television industry as freelancers, those that work from one contract to the next. The people who work behind the scene to bring you entertainment, the camera operators, the lighting experts, the film crews, editors, producers, VFX designers, art directors, costume designers, the list is endless. Once upon a time, film studios and television companies employed everyone, but all that changed in the early nineties. A recent report by BFI shows that 90% of the workforce in film production are freelancers. That’s a lot of people who are living with financial anxiety and uncertainty hanging over their heads.

Mental Health Week also highlights the plight of women and children who live in abusive families. The worst part of the lock-down is staying at home and as the men use force to abuse. I know there are women, especially when it comes to children. But let’s not kid ourselves, the majority who inflict the abuse are men—no respite for the women and children. Before lock-down, the men were at work, out of the home, the women had an escape, and the children went to school. I worry for the well-being of the children who witness and experience the abuse from day to day. Through my work with the Circle I know that this isn’t just happening here, it happens all over the world and all I can do is help those who are working in tough times to support vulnerable women and families. I have first-hand experience of how this support can make a big difference.

 

I am privileged to live in a country that provides free healthcare, and I’m proud of the staff who work for the NHS. All the care professionals who go beyond, the stories of the people who have set-up charities, sewing groups, schools who’ve made protective shields. For people like Captain Tom Moore, the skipping Sikh, the volunteers who distribute and provide food for the homeless and less well off. For Frank, an 84-year-old who has been picking up food parcels from Harrow Community Kitchen for elderly and vulnerable neighbours. This is what humanity means. We had lost it recently, too much narcissism, too much me me. 

It is a season for Light, and this pandemic has made me appreciate the key workers in our society; the doctors, the nurses, the care workers, the bus and train drivers, the bin men, the supermarket workers, the teachers who found new ways to teach. I hope that beyond the lock-down we reassess who we value the most. Some of these professions have long been ignored and neglected; we have allowed governments to take advantage of their vocation. Restricting funding, decreasing grants for too long, we’ve allowed big business to give people minimum wages to line the pockets of their MD or shareholders. We must learn from this, understand that the people who care for us as a society are more valuable and deserve the monetary rewards.

It’s incredible how people have managed to keep in touch with loved ones across the globe, through Facetime, What’s App, Zoom, Google Hangouts. Let’s hope the systems we’ve begun to use will continue and don’t become overpriced and inaccessible to all. We should learn from this and understand that anything that helps us live better should be a priority, more flexible working, more working from home to help families with caring for children or elderly relatives, equal access to technology for everyone.

 

It has been the best of time, for those of us who have been lucky to have our grown-up children move back in with us, and I class myself as one of those. More cooking, more washing, more of all the daily chores, but the usual commute is non-existent. Everyone has used the slowdown from the rat race to recuperate, to reflect on making us better human beings. This pandemic has given us time back. The little conversations over lunch breaks. A bit more time to connect with neighbours. More time for a walk to appreciate nature, more time to discover new worlds.

On that note, I share with you an excerpt from Where Have We Come, the second book in my University - Nikesh & Reena series. It was the worst of time for my family and me, but it was also the best of time to cherish the friendships and love offered to us.

Faint music can be heard as we turn into our road, and as we get closer to our house, it becomes louder, the lights are off in the lobby. Nik turns to me and smiles. “Anne-Marie’s brought her CDs.”

Rick Astley is warbling at full volume, Never gonna give you up, we take off our coats and walk into Umi, Peter, Dick and Anne-Marie. Dick has Amar in his sling and is dancing the only way he knows how sliding and jiggling rhythmically to the music. The lights are dimmed, the music is loud. The sight of our friends dancing with our son makes me happy, it’s one thing we hadn’t even thought about. I begin to laugh and take my husband’s hand and dance, joyfully, enjoying the moment, vowing that I’ll use more of our time in the joy of living instead of the sadness we’ve been carrying.

Sign up to my newsletter for a song list, where to find deleted scenes and a sneak peek of my forthcoming book—Made in Heaven for Me.

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I did it, I'm a published author

Where Have We Come - Book Two

What a couple of months and I’m going to use a lot of cliches, even though all the writer’s forums tell you not to. But what the heck, my story is out there in the wide world.

It’s been a steep learning curve, my journey of learning to write. I can see now that there are obvious mistakes, but I’m learning and boy was it hard. I hope to improve on my new craft and work on a couple more ideas for books to get my creative juices flowing. Told you I was going to use a lot of cliches.

I want to say thank you to my family and friends who have brought the e-book. I want to thank my early readers who gave me the confidence to carry on. I hope you like it and be honest, send me feedback, if you don’t tell me the truth who will. I have a couple of reviews, on Goodreads, please add yours.

Bollywood meets Mills & Boon enjoyable read 

Plenty of melodrama in this ultimate girl meets boy tale. Set in the UK, the main characters and their families are of Indian origin so many interesting references to culture, especially food - make sure to reference the appendices at the back of the book! Fun easy read.

The next book in University - Reena and Nikesh series is being sent to the publisher’s as I write. I aim to have it uploaded for the beginning of March. Watch my social media for updates. This is the book that sat forever on my computer drive for over ten years. I changed laptops and it came with me, sitting and sometimes pulsing at me to go back to it. To muster the courage to read it again, to be strong enough to get it out there.

Well, that happened, and it was the strangest experience I have ever had. But I’m glad it happened, somehow the time was right for me to do what I’ve done - write a book.

Here’s a couple of links to articles:

A big thank you to Anuj Radia from FilmeShilmy for being the first to interview me

Thank you to Suniya Thenweer from DESIblitz for her thought provoking question.

Pushpa Raja

“We couldn’t sleep, too worried about you...sometimes even the doctors are wrong.”

Naren Solanki

“He’s as stubborn as his mother, I think we’ve got another fighter in our family.”

Anant Raja

“What’s the matter, Reena?” 

Reena Raja

“Nothing, I’m so glad you’re here,” 

A bit of technical information

I’ve had lots of people ask why it isn’t available as a paperback. One reason, why buy a paperback when you can read most things on your smartphone, iPad, laptop and secondly I will get it out on paperback or hardback but I haven't learnt how to do that yet. So you’ll have to read it as an ebook. You can download the kindle app for free on all your devices including Apple products if you have an Amazon account and buy from there, or if you prefer Apple, you already have ebooks on your devices and just need to find the book through their store. 

I’ve published through other stores too, Barnes and Noble Nook and Rakuten Kobo. It’s available on Overdrive, Baker and Taylor and other lending libraries soon. These apps are also available as a download, see links below.

Amazon Kindle Apple Ebook Overdrive Rakuten Kobo Barnes and Noble

Please sign up to the newsletter, I hope to give you information of up and coming events and may even give you a sneak peek at the short story I’m writing at the moment. I’m also in the process of researching the next book in the University Series can you guess which books I’m reading for my research in the images.

Why I began writing

Thanks Natasha for your photograph

When it all started

I wrote Part 2 of my book series in 2006, it is a story that I needed to write for myself to come to terms with what had happened to us at the birth of our first son.

Three years later, the year of my 50th birthday, my father passed away and I was back to a place I thought I’d boxed up and placed in the recesses of my mind.

Slowly but surely the story grew like a seed that was too dry to germinate, but like all seeds, it flourished from the small helping of nourishment it received from me, my pen.

Alas, life got in the way, my sons still needed help and support and I continued to work as a freelancer in TV Production. I got the bug to teach and retrained to become a teacher of Film and Media Studies in Secondary education. I enjoyed my job, but it left me with no time to process the feeling of loss and anxiety that had begun to gnaw in my mind again. I am envious of all the teachers out there and of those that I have worked with. They are committed individuals who give up so much of their time and money to do the best they can for their pupils. There’s a lot more I can say about the education system in the United Kingdom, but this is not the space to do it.

In 2016, I suffered my first anxiety attack, it was a shock. I didn’t have the courage to go back to work, I fought the urge to stay in bed all day every day and I didn’t want to leave my house.

 I remember vividly what happened that day, how I managed to drive home but had to stop the car and call my GP, who provided me with a telephone consultation there and then and asked if I wanted to try talk therapy. I had tried it in the early ’90s and felt it didn’t help me at the time, but I also didn’t want to take drugs. So I went for my first appointment three weeks later and what was different about this session was that I was given a weekly calendar and asked to make a list of things that I needed to do, some necessary, some pleasurable. These sessions helped me process my thoughts and feelings. They told me that it was a natural thing to grieve for the people you’ve lost and I felt better. My counsellor told me to go back to my early chapters, the early recording of a difficult time in my life. 

That was it, I got the bug to write this story and began to research, I read books by authors who wrote about situations that don’t have a happy ever after. I read blogs, I followed writers and developed my plot. But most of all I wrote, every time a dialogue or scene came into my mind I jotted it down in a notebook I kept with me. 

My books, My Heart Sings Your Song and Where Have We Come has developed over a period of writes and re-writes and is a story of love, loss and family in two parts. If you like Jojo Moyes “Me Before You” then you’ll love my book, which is a romance based in the UK, between two British Asian from two different social background, who against all odds find their love for each is stronger than the tragedy that haunts them. 

Excerpt:

“God Nik, it’s like a RK Studio film, Rich Boy, Poor Girl and you know what happens next?” I tried to lighten the mood, smiling up at him.

It has lots of references to Gujarati Indian culture, Bollywood films and songs, and Indian food. Please sign up to my newsletter, I will only send you my blog post and news of book release dates.