Rukhsana Khan's Blog, page 23

Getting used to attention…

Got some more accolades for King for a Day!

It got a fabulous review at Book Dragon , and this review really mentions what I was trying to do with the story! Shows that Malik, the main character (which means king in Arabic) has all the properties of a really good one!

Loved this line:

… By highlighting Malik’s many other strengths and talents, author Rukhsana Khan seamlessly presents a hero who is much more than his physical challenges: His patience and skill prove stronger than any bully’s cruelty and greed….

 

And now another piece of good news! It’s been shortlisted for an award–already!

Drum roll please…

King for a Day has been shorlisted for the Bank Street College Irma Black award!

It’s an award that will eventually be decided by child readers!

I’m one of 16 finalists! Yowza!

Hmm, I could get used to this!

Write a book, and people actually pay attention! It gets noticed!

So why am I feeling so anxious???

Gotta relax and enjoy the ride.

Just breathe.

Perhaps it’s a new reality that I just have to get used to.

I’ve been working all these years for it…and now that it’s here it’s absolutely ridiculous that I should be scared in any way.

Stop asking yourself, “What do you do to top it???” Stop asking, “What if you never write another thing again???”

Just relax!

It will come, insha Allah.

It will come!

See that’s why I always liked having a book in the works.

It was like a security blanket of sorts.

And now for the first time in more than fifteen years…nada, zip, zilch.

Just breathe.

When family starts looking at you different…

It’s happened.

I’ve had comments from two different relatives about it, and it’s really thrown me for a loop.

Shaken me to my core.

The comments weren’t from people I was expecting them from.

Yeah, sure, I had one relative, ages ago, respond to my wish to be a world famous children’s author with the comment, “You’ll never get published, look at the way you dress.”

She wasn’t being mean about it, it’s what she really thought. She might have even been trying to warn me so I wouldn’t get my hopes up.

And yet nobody was more proud of me than her, when I did get published.

And then there was the other relative who asked to read an early novel of mine, and when he was done and I asked for feedback, he evaded the question by asking me what I was studying in university at the time. I told him I was thinking of becoming a teacher and he said, ‘Stick to that’.

But now the comments are different.

I was telling one relative who I admire, about the New York Public Library honor and she said a funny thing. She said something like, “Who would have ever thought your story about you and your sister would have made it so big.”

But it distinctly felt like she was saying, “Who ever thought you’d do so well?”

And then again, today, another one, said pretty much the same thing. “Who ever thought you’d get so up there.”

These are people who’ve know me since I got married, almost 35 years ago.

And I must say it really stung when they said that.

It’s like they were thinking out loud, looking at me and having a hard time re-evaluating me in light of this new stuff.

And when they said that, I was kind of forced to step back, kind of get outside myself, and look at me the way I must come across to them.

I’ve always known that I’m not very impressive to look at.

Put me in a room full of Pakistanis or Muslims and you really couldn’t tell me apart.

In fact it makes me laugh to think of how that actually happened when I was first starting out. Went to Regent Park P.S. to do a presentation because it had a high Muslim population.

A bunch of the mothers came in to see it, and they were sitting in a semi circle. There was a seat in their midst so I went and sat down with them and introduced myself and started chatting them up.

The librarian who booked me turned from doing something and looked for me, and when I saw her, I waved, and only then could she pick me out from the other ladies there.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that they never thought I could accomplish what I have.

I just took their belief in me for granted.

They don’t realize that I still feel I’m just getting started. I’m nowhere near where I want to be.

It’s taken 25 years of writing to get to this point. Now, insha Allah, comes the real hard work!

I have always felt that I could be a tour de force. I have always told myself, what do the great authors in history have that I don’t? They all pulled stories from their imagination!

We all are blessed with an imagination.

We just need to go deep enough.

Reflect.

And the older I get, the more I realize that the people we encounter fall into various archetypes.

It’s fascinating.

I asked my husband if he was surprised that I’d achieved what I had too? And he said, “Nope. I knew you had the drive in you.”

Uh huh.

Insha Allah.

And if it doesn’t happen, alhamdu lillah, but it won’t be from want of effort!

And I wonder what they’ll say then.

 

It was bound to happen…

When the writing gets better, the blog will suffer.

I’m working hard these days, and it’s so exciting that it’s very hard to concentrate on writing something here.

What I would suggest for all the new folks who’ve been joining the feed is to check out some of my older posts. I have a pretty big archive and there are a lot of good posts (if I say so myself) in there.

One thing I try never to do is to repeat myself.

But I did think I should post tonight because…drum roll…it’s official!

KING FOR A DAY is officially released!

And it’s already received some nice fanfare.

Over at the Fantastic children’s literature blog Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, Julie Danielson talks about King for a Day.

And Kirkus gave it a starred review that you can read here: https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/rukhsana-khan/king-for-a-day/

It also got a starred review from School Library Journal! Yay!!! And… it was a pick of the day!

You can read that review here: http://www.slj.com/2013/11/reviews/pick-of-the-day/pick-of-the-day-king-for-a-day/#_

So it’s very very good!

And it’s really nice when the heads of organizations are contacting you, making sure that your new book is submitted for consideration of their honors!

We’ll see. Insha Allah something good will come of it.

It definitely seems that I’m on people’s radar now!

Only took about 25 years of writing! Alhamdu lillah.

 

Rediscovered Excitement…

I’ve been backing up my computer lately.

And that means cleaning up the files.

Oh it’s amazing how much junk you can accumulate.

I have files that are so old my Word program doesn’t recognize what program created them!

But I have stubbornly kept them. Perhaps one day they’ll come in useful.

I’d hate to be in the position where the story I just discarded would be perfect for the purpose!

Hmm, doesn’t that sound like a hoarder’s excuses?

I think everyone’s been in the position where you finally got rid of that odd pair of pants and then a week later there was an outfit they would have gone so perfectly with!

Anyway, I was going through my files, cleaning them in order to be transferred to a storage device and I saw just the title of a piece I’ve been working on.

Despite the recent accolades, I confess that my confidence in my picture book writing skills is pretty much zilch. But just seeing this title gave me an instant and quite visceral reaction!

I really really loved that piece!

Don’t know if it’ll ever get published, probably not. But heck, I LOVE it!

So I started to work on it, and oh the joy!

I was so engrossed that not even the sound of the Fast and Furious Tokyo whatever installment that my hubby was watching just a few feet away on his computer, was able to dislodge my concentration.

Takes me way back to the time I was just a kid. I went to high school across from where my dad worked as a tool and die maker. One day I stayed late after school, missed the bus, so I went over to his work place and decided to hang around till 5 pm to hitch a ride home with him.

He let me do my homework at his workbench.

It was a raw wood bench scarred with gouges and stains from machine oil and what not, and in the background I heard all kinds of machinery whirring and punching and stuff. I thought to myself, “How can I ever concentrate with so much noise in the background?” But actually it was the most focused bit of homework I ever did, and have ever done since.

Then later I heard that having that kind of non-regular, machinery noise actually improves a person’s concentration. Maybe it drowns out your inner voice with its randomness. I don’t know. But I do know I’ve striven for that level of concentration ever since.

Every once in a while I do achieve it, but not usually for very long stretches of time.

But last night, when I was working on that piece, yup, it was there.

I was totally immersed! And I loved it!

The more ‘successful’ I get, it seems the less time I have to write and the more elusive those moments of intense creativity really are!

But when they do come…joy!

Of course the doubts set in almost immediately, but for that moment, they didn’t matter.

It was lovely!

Dealing with Negative reviews…

Sooner or later every author will receive a negative review.

There’s a saying out there that no matter what you do, 10% of people will disagree with it.

I wonder if they’re just ornery or something.

In hindsight, I’m really really grateful that the first review I ever received was a total pan!

It was devastating at the time, and boy did I hate the smug way people at some of the writers organizations came up to me to ‘condole’.

But it taught me so very very much!

And that is that everyone does have an opinion. And as an author you have to open yourself up to be criticized.

Toughen up your skin! Make it nice and thick!

But at the same time, listen to the criticism.

Nobody likes to be criticized, but it’s very important. How else can you ever get better?

I like what one of my editors once said about reviews. She said sometimes you get a negative review and you think objectively, “Okay, yeah. They’ve got a point. Should have seen that.” And you chalk it up to the learning curve. And sometimes you get a negative review and the person just completely missed the mark.

You can’t take it personally. You really can’t.

They don’t know you.

They don’t know your intentions in writing the book.

All they’re doing is reacting to what you’ve presented based on…AND THIS IS SO IMPORTANT I’LL CAPITALIZE IT…THEIR OWN LIFE EXPERIENCES!

Reading is such a collaborative experience. It’s not just based on the words you wrote. It’s based on people’s reaction.

And once the book is published and done, you, as the author, have no more control.

So get used to letting go.

Letting it go out into the world and people reading it will bring their own experiences of what they think the book should have been.

I’m writing this post because I just happened to look up amazon, and I saw that there was a new customer review of one of my books and it was a one-star (out of five) review. And of course I was curious! The person took one of my most successful books, The Roses in My Carpets, and said it wasn’t a children’s book!

I suppose she couldn’t imagine children relating to it. She thought it was too intense.

And yet, that’s the book that I do the most. From grade three (eight year olds) to adults, kids really really love that book!

It’s not a depressing book. Not to me at all.

But it is an intense book, and maybe that’s what she was reacting to. Maybe the kids she knew or the kid she was would have found such a book appalling.

At first I wanted to comment on it, and then I thought better of it. Because actually she does represent a certain demographic of people who do think the book is too ‘graphic’ for children. I guess these are the die hard old school types who idealize childhood in some way. Who knows? Who cares? What it really comes down to is the lady is entitled to her opinion.

I’ve witnessed authors respond to negative reviews and it’s always a mistake.

There’s too much emotion involved.

So instead I shrugged it off.

And the more experience I get the more I know it’s true that no review is a bad review. Even the people who take the time to pan a book are better than ignoring it totally.

Which sounds weird but it’s true. Because the worst thing that can happen is for people to ignore your work.

It’s been a heck of a year!

Feel like I’ve grown a lot, even though it might not seem apparent in some ways.

I wish I could say that I have sold a new book.

I’ve been kind of superstitious that way. In the last fifteen years of being published I’ve never been in the state of not having a book coming out. Come January, after King for a Day gets released, I will indeed be in that position and it’s quite scary.

But I’m working on a bunch of stuff and hopefully something good will come out of it.

Been thinking and thinking and wondering and wondering, and that’s always a good thing.

Hope everyone has a wonderful year ahead.

2013…it was tough!

Can’t believe it’s almost over.

Happy New Year!

 

 

What a year it’s been!

I meant to shout out to any Christians reading this that I hoped they had a good holiday, but somehow in the busyness of the day I didn’t get a chance.

I find the hub bub about whether to say Merry Christmas, vs Happy Holidays really interesting.

I think it should be very simple. If you know someone is Christian, then the most appropriate greeting is Merry Christmas. It’s only respectful! That is their holiday.

On the other hand, if you know they’re not Christian but celebrate Christmas then it should be Happy Holidays.

And if they’re like me, not Christian and don’t celebrate Christmas in any shape or form, then the greeting should be Happy Holidays, or even better Season’s Greetings!

I mean why would anyone wish me a Merry Christmas unless they really didn’t know that I’m not Christian, and yet isn’t it obvious???

I mean it’s not like I’m going to get offended or anything. Those days are over. (When I was growing up and still bitter from feeling excluded…yes, it would have offended me.)

Nowadays, though I find I feel pretty magnanimous about the whole Yuletide season.

I guess it’s because my own cup is full, alhamdu lillah. It’s easy to be generous to others when your own cup is full, right?

Saw one of my dear neighbors backing out of her driveway on Christmas eve and I called out to her, “Merry Christmas.” And she replied with the same, even though she knew. It would have been nice if she’d said Happy Holidays, but hey, doesn’t mean I like her any less.

And now that Christmas is over, I’m starting to think of the end of the year looming, and it always brings me back to what has happened. Where I was at this time last year.

It’s been a very unusual year. Lots of travel! Lots of connections! No new books sold, which makes me sad. But lots of progress nevertheless.

One thing good, I’m down about ten pounds from last year.

I’ll take it.

When I was buttoning up my winter jacket, I could do all four buttons and last year at this time I’d only be fastening the top three. That’s good!

And yet I feel like I’ve grown a lot, pardon the pun.

I’m seeing things more clearly: relationships; the motives of others; malicious vs innocent, that kind of thing.

It’s funny, way early when I started blogging I talked about an acquaintance of mine who made it big with one of her books, and as soon as she did so she dropped all her friends.

I always vowed I’d never do such a thing.

Whatever good happens, I’ve been keenly conscious of not letting it get to my head. And I consider myself fortunate because I have loving family members who prick any hot air that starts my head swelling like they’re pressure cooker valves, and they keep me humble, alhamdu lillah. They keep things in perspective and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

But the funny thing is that it’s been the other way around. Some very close friends of mine have been dropping me.

I’ve lost three friends as my profile has gotten higher, not through my own wishes. And it’s a little disheartening.

I’ve made lots more, but nothing will replace those who I’ve lost.

I always heard that when people reject you, they’re doing you a favour. They’re actually saving you from them, but it still hurts.

Oh well.

I was looking at my life and thinking, gee, I really don’t have many problems. And I thought some people would think my life is rather dull because it is so peaceful and without drama. But I don’t feel that way at all.

Maybe it’s also because I’ve been binge watching Breaking Bad. It really is good! I watched the whole series once already, and my son said, “Why don’t we watch it again?” I didn’t want to. I know how addictive it was the first time around, but somehow I started watching it again, and funny thing, it’s even better the second time around.

I think it’s because the first time, everything is so new and so disorienting, watching it you’re just trying to keep up with all that’s happening! But the second time around you notice things you’ve missed. Things are falling into place better, and you see symbolism you didn’t catch before. It’s even deeper than you realized!

It’s not often you get a story that has both strong characterization and good plotting! Breaking Bad fits the bill.

And yet it reminds me of the common refrain of Forrest Gump. The refrain that he keeps saying that really boils down to the theme of the whole movie: ‘stupid is as stupid does’.

Which is why Forrest is the smartest character in the whole movie.

And Breaking Bad also keeps reminding me of some concepts in Islam. Can’t recall if it’s a hadith or if it’s a verse in the Quran, I just know somewhere it talks about how good people have a really hard time being bad. Being bad is not easy for them, they are constantly failing at it and getting caught. And bad people have a really hard time being good. Their life is slippery and they keep ending up doing wrong. Doing wrong is easier for them.

When I learned that, I started to rethink all the times I got caught doing something bad. I only ever cheated on a test once, and the other students caught me and laughed at me for it! Never did it again. And every time I lied, I’d be found out and punished to the point that it just wasn’t worth it.

I’m so thankful I never got good at being bad.

And yet watching Breaking Bad it’s almost like a Biblical allegory. Where Walt’s pride is his downfall and it’s fascinating how he starts out being quite relatable and pretty soon you see that he’s really no good and his descent is fascinating!

And poor Jesse Pinkman!

Really enjoying it the second time around, highly recommend it, even though it’s filthy in parts.

Looking forward to the new year. Wonder what it’s going to bring.

Hope I can get a book or two sold, feel like I’m on the verge of a breakthrough, but really Allahu alim.

We’ll see.

Life is good and I’ve got nothing to complain about.

But…

If I could be down at least another ten pounds by this time next year…I’ll be quite pleased insha Allah!

‘Tis the season…

for schmoozing!

When I was thinking of writing this blog, I had to smile, remembering back to when I first started out in this field.

I’d get so nervous going to any sort of writer type party where I’d be meeting the ‘movers and shakers’.

I’d think strategy. How to get the ‘most’ out of the ‘opportunity’.

I don’t do that any more.

It’s all so phoney baloney! And I really can’t stand the fakery!

But there is a definite art to schmoozing, and in some ways I think I may have mastered it.

At least I seem to get a lot out of these types of parties now that I’ve stopped trying to impress people.

And yes, I think that’s the key.

Do not go with the intention of trying to impress anyone. That should help set you apart from everyone else who is trying to do just that.

Also, go alone!

When you go with friends, chances are you’re going to spend the whole evening with your friends.

People don’t like getting out of their comfort zones! So go alone if you possibly can.

Secondly don’t drink any alcohol.

It will cloud your judgment, or at least that’s what I’ve been told.

As a teetotaler, I have found that you actually *learn* a lot more, you gain a lot more from these events if your mind is clear and unimpaired by any sort of intoxication.

Even if I only go there to soak up the ambiance of such a function so that I can write about it accurately later on, stay away from the booze!

And also, remember, that the artistic community seems to draw to itself more than their fair share of…um…hmm…what I mean to say is people in the arts industry can be…hmm…how do I put this diplomatically?

I don’t think I can, so I’ll just go ahead and say it…people in the arts industry can be downright nuts! Flakey! Artsy fartsy! You need to keep your head about you!

So don’t drink!

I remember one time, at a party, I met this columnist who had really enjoyed one of my books, The Roses in My Carpets and we were talking about the impact of the book on kids when up came this high-powered lady, wearing a business suit, brandishing her business cards, scooted right between us, in the middle of an earnest conversation, and started spouting off her business model.

I’m pretty sure she must have gone to some workshop on ‘how to work a room’, schmoozing with purpose you could say, and me and the columnist just watched her do her schtick, make a complete fool of herself, and when she was done, she waltzed off to bother someone else, and we continued our conversation.

The object of schmoozing should be to make very real connections at a party like this. What that lady did was just plain stupid.

I have seen a lot of people do stuff like that, and it just wastes everyone’s time and is downright embarrassing.

To be perfectly honest, I might have tried that approach myself in the past, when I was just starting out and didn’t know any better. Needless to say I don’t do that any more.

The best thing  you can do when going to a party like this is going to sound so obvious and maybe even counter intuitive.  My best advice is to relax.

Be yourself.

DON’T SUCK UP TO ANYONE! It’s not worth the price of your dignity!

I don’t care  how desperate you are, don’t do it! You won’t respect yourself in the morning.

Basically my motto is to be honest!

If you haven’t read a person’s book, DON’T ever say that you have! Speak the truth!

And when in the presence of ‘royalty’ ask questions! Respectful, dignified questions that you honestly do want the answers to.

And this is the painful part, when you run out of things to say…SHUT UP!

Whatever you do, don’t babble!

You may or may not get the opportunity to make an impression. Let such an opportunity arise naturally. DO NOT FORCE IT! You’ll look like an idiot! (Another reason not to drink!)

The funny thing is that now I’m actually in the position that sometimes people try to suck up to me. I had one publisher once tell me how much they loved Big Red Lollipop. Then they went on to say that their child had grown up loving it!

I asked how old their child was and it turned out they were in their teens.

Big Red Lollipop has only been a book for three years now. The person was obviously lying.

I always take note of when people lie to me. It is a blot on their character, as far as I’m concerned.

Oh I’ll still deal with them, but I’ve got red flags waving in the back of my mind as I do so.

Oh to think back when I first started in the field. I’d be brandishing my business cards and barging into conversations too.

I still have my business cards ready! ALWAYS HAVE THEM READY! But I only hand them out if it comes up.

Some of the changes in my demeanor are probably a result of experience and confidence. When you’re not confident, it’s so easy to come across as over eager.

I would be bent on making as many contacts as I possibly could.

Nowadays I just drift with the tide, I strike up conversations with total strangers, and somehow I’m good at drawing people out.

For instance, went to a Christmas party just last Monday and started talking to a theater musician type, very talented guy, and I mentioned my gig with Dan Hill and the things I’d learned from it and then we got to talking about how people mis-hear lyrics and all the funny things that can result with that.

And then he mentioned something about ‘Free Bird’.

Oh, forgot to mention, it really really helps to be genuinely curious about people!!! So I asked him what the ‘Free Bird’ reference was, and he explained that it was a musician joke that at the end of a song set someone would yell out for them to do, “Free Bird”.

And when I asked him to explain he said he couldn’t, it was just a musician reference.

So curious thing that I am, I came home and looked it up on the internet. And Free Bird turns out to be a fourteen minute song by the band Lynyrd Skynyrd and it has this really long and amazing guitar solo in it, and yes, it’s a musician joke, kind of a tradition thing among musicians because the song is so long…

Fascinating!

Not sure how and if I’ll ever be able to use that in a story but you might be surprised! You never know when these odd little references crop up!

So basically when it comes to schmoozing, relax, be curious, and have a good time! If you come away from a party having made even one really good connection, it’s all worthwhile.

And you never know where these connections you make will pan out. You just never know!

And really who cares?

Have a good time!

Be true to yourself, be honest and be curious, and it’s all good.

These days I often come away from a party having made at least two or three really good connections.

 

“I’d rather hurt you honestly…

than mislead you with a lie”

Many years ago, I heard a beautiful ballad on the radio called “Sometimes When We Touch…” and it was that particular line that really struck home with me.

Oh the love stuff was nice, but at the time it kind of made me squirm, a bit too intimate.

And I got the lyrics way wrong!

I heard “Sometimes when we touch the artist sees too much, and I have to close my eyes and hide…”

But it’s actually “Sometimes when we touch, the honesty’s too much…”

And even that line “I’d rather hurt you honestly than mislead you with a lie” I’d heard it: “I’d rather hurt you honestly than treat you with a lie.”

Funny how the meaning changes and yet the sentiment stays the same.

And it’s funny how that mistaken line: “I’d rather hurt you honestly than treat you with a lie.” Became a sort of motto for me.

I internalized it.

It’s my philosophy when dealing with people. And it’s all from a love song.

Who says they’re just silly songs?

Who says they can’t speak the truth and lead you to higher heights of principle?

Of course it helped that the idea jived well with one of the hadiths/sayings of the Prophet (peace be upon him) where he said, “Speak the truth even if it is bitter and displeasing to people.”

That doesn’t mean that I’ll go about spouting off my opinion, especially if people will find it offensive, but at the same time, if someone asks me an honest question, then don’t they deserve an honest answer???

I think they do.

And that’s when I’d rather hurt them honestly than ‘treat’ them with a lie.

Of course there are gentle ways to say things. Diplomacy. You know…

I think I’ve gotten better at it.

But one thing I haven’t gotten better is wiping the gauche look off my face when I meet someone whose words have really touched me like that.

Tonight I was at a fund-raising program held by the Toronto United Church Council to raise money for unwed mothers.

And on the program was Dan Hill. When the organizer first called me and told me the lineup included Dan Hill, I immediately thought of Sometimes When We Touch, but then thought, “Nah! Couldn’t be.”

Uh huh. It was.

And I got very excited!

(By the way, I know perfectly well I’m doing some shameless name-dropping, but I can’t help it!)

And when he actually showed up, just this quiet, unassuming looking guy, I tried to think of something intelligent to say, some question, some way to engage him in conversation.

I was starting to get nervous. There were stand up comedians on the bill and Dan Hill and a harpist and a saxophone player, and then me.

And I was second to last in the program! After me was the choir singing Winter Wonderland, that was it.

It went wonderfully!

I needn’t have gotten so worried.

I knew how much I tripped over the first few words of the story, but apparently the audience didn’t even notice. At the end of the program some of us sold books and CD’s at the back of the hall, by the way it was in one of those old fashioned churches that had been built in 1914 and was basically a hundred years old with the intricate stained glass windows and a pipe organ that took up the whole wall behind the altar, stretching right up to the ceiling!

I set up right beside Dan Hill and I thought, “Oh boy, it’ll be one of those events where he’ll have the big long line up and I’ll be sitting there by myself looking pathetic, but no, the way they came up to my table with my books for sale…wow!

They really liked the story!

And it was so funny because even during his stint on the stage, Mr. Hill sang a couple of Christmas carols with the harpist, then a beautiful song called “I am My Father’s Son” about a father and son relationship, and then he said how he called his mom everyday and she’d told him, “Don’t sing that song, son, they’re sick of it!” (I’m paraphrasing)

And then he sang it.

And of course we were all waiting for it.

And I wondered to myself, if that’s how people might feel one day about Big Red Lollipop. I’ve told that story SO many times! I call it my no-brainer-crowd-pleaser.

And as the crowd dispersed and Mr. Hill was getting ready to leave, I called out to him about that line that had really influenced me. I tried to tell him how much that line ‘I’d rather hurt you honestly than treat (sic)  you with a lie’ had meant to me, and even as I quoted it, I mumbled the word ‘treat’ because it didn’t sound right and right then I was sure I had gotten it wrong. And sure enough when I checked on line, I had gotten it wrong.

But he graciously didn’t correct me.

And even though I knew I was acting the total fan, I didn’t really care…it was honest.

Here’s him singing it from the original music video:

Enjoy!

 

The Taj Mahal…and Sticker Shock!

This is going to be a long post! I have so much to tell to wind up my trip to India–but bear with me I think you might find it pretty funny!

So I went to the Taj, straight from Delhi airport on Monday, Dec. 3rd.

Our flight from Pune get delayed because the system went down and they had to check us in manually.

Omigosh, talk about lineups! Left the hotel in Pune at 5:30 am, and didn’t leave on the airplane till about 8:20, delayed an hour. We were supposed to get into Delhi for 9:40, got out around 10:30 instead.

My husband had kept drilling it into me to make sure I don’t miss my flight back, don’t miss my flight back, so I came out of the airport, and luckily my driver was waiting right there for me. Asked him if we still had enough time to go to the Taj and he said yeah, sure!

So we were off.

Wasn’t sure it would be worth it.

In fact I was thinking of my trip to Stonehenge. I’d been way more fascinated with Stonehenge than I’d ever been with the Taj Mahal, and yet when I’d actually seen the Stonehenge my reaction was, “Meh! A bunch of big rocks, lying on their sides!”

Of course the Taj isn’t nearly as old as Stonehenge. It’s about 450 years old.

And yes, it’s listed as one of the 7 man-made wonders of the world!

Got there and it took my breath away!

It really is that beautiful!

Words can’t express the exquisiteness of this grand old mausoleum!

On the weekends they usually get about 50,000 visitors a day. Being a Monday the crowd was light. Only about 10,000. And the thing is that most of the visitors were local.

That should tell you something.

And most of the visitors had come often before.

That also should tell you something.

And as I strolled along the beautiful white marble tiles of the courtyard, I realized something. There are reasons why certain places resonate with people from around the world to become infinitely famous and ranked as one of the wonders of the world.

And I think it all comes down to the feeling the visitor achieves when they visit there.

The feeling of the Taj Mahal is one of incredible love and sadness.

Shah Jehan obviously loved his third wife, Mumtaz so much!

You feel it viscerally, you do.

And there’s that feeling of haunting romance that has infused the place.

And yet I’m torn.

I had a guide leading me through the grounds but I think I hardly needed him. It was good though because I think under the circumstances it’s best not to go to places like that alone, and he warned me what to do and what not to do.

The historical stuff he told me, I basically already knew.

I wrote about a young emperor Shah Jehan in my book Dahling if You Luv Me Would You Please Please Smile. The play that Zainab and Premini perform in the competition is based on a true story of his.

But truth be told, I think he was a bit of a fool. A prisoner of the mindset of opulence he grew up in. It seems to me that he would have been more than content with just the one woman, Mumtaz. He had two other legal wives, because in Islam you can legally have up to four, but then he had a thousand concubines: basically pretty girls he noticed in the land and had soldiers go and take them as part of his harem.

It makes me cringe to think that yes, these emperors really did have harems full of women, that literally waited upon him.

And yet, I think it’s all a silly status thing. It seems to be hard-wired in men to want women–plural. And the more women you have, the higher the status, hence the notoriety of powerful men with lots of mistresses. Men look at other men with lots of women and envy them, so Shah Jehan had to show how impressive he was in that regard.

When I went to South Africa the locals told me that a lot of the local ‘kings’ were like that too. It was their custom that if they saw a pretty girl, they could just force her to join his harem.

It just seemed so wrong there and it seemed equally wrong here.

And I knew what happened, how Shah Jehan’s son Aurangzeb took over because Shah Jehan’s elaborate buildings were bankrupting the country. Shah Jehan always planned to build a mirror image to the Taj Mahal on the other side of the Yamuna river, only all in black marble. He’d already prepared the foundations for it. You can actually see them from the balcony of the Taj Mahal, but Aurangzeb stopped him from doing so.

The expense!!! Shah Jehan brought in architects from all over the world, he shipped in white marble from Rajasthan, and artisans to inlay all the semi precious stones at enormous cost!

It’s unseemly for a ruler to do that to his country and yet…look at it now. It’s such a tourist hot spot and has brought fame and notoriety to the country of India.

Everyone knows Agra, the old capital of the Moghuls simply because of the Taj Mahal.

And yes, when you first see it, it really is surreal, dreamy, beautiful.

And yet driving through Agra, you see the other India. The squalor, the lame and pregnant dogs, the Brahmin bulls strolling through the streets with the big humps on their back and a disdainful expression on their faces and the ragged children and the people trying to eek out a living.

And traveling through India you see the other India, the modern India with the high towers dedicated to IT, and the business plazas, and the nouveau riche, ignoring the perrenially poor as if the poor really have nothing to do with them.

So we left Agra at around 6 pm because my hubby kept telling me to be careful with timing. My flight out of Delhi wasn’t till 3 am but I was planning on arriving at the airport by 12 midnight, just to be sure.

In my haste, we got there by 10 pm.

Five hours of nothing much to do.

Got hungry, but I’d used up most of my rupees, I only had 3 American dollars, 2 Euros in coins, and some Canadian money on me (that I needed for the taxi back home). I had some hundred dollar bills in U.S. but I wasn’t planning on exchanging them at that point! Didn’t want a bunch of rupees to take home, not just to buy a sandwich and a drink!

I tried to change my small bills, but they wouldn’t take my Canadian dollars and I didn’t have enough U.S. so a kind stranger offered to take my two Euro coins off me (he was traveling to Europe) and he ended up paying the difference of about 40 rupees.

In the airport I read a lot of Malala Yousufzai’s book I Am Malala co-written with some English author in the hopes of making her seem deeper than she really is. Don’t get me wrong it’s a good read, but I lost a lot of respect for her when she started singing the praises of that crook Benazhir Bhutto! (By the way I’m not a fan of ANY of the Pakistani politicians! Can’t stand Musharraf and none of the others are any better! But Bhutto and Zardari have Swiss bank accounts with millions of absconded funds from Pakistan–and that’s a fact! Any ruler who’d pillage their own people like that…grrr!!!!  (Um kind of like Shah Jehan) A plague on all their crooked houses, if  you ask me!)

Anyway, it was a LONG night!

While I was reading there in the lounge area, this big hairy Indian was lying flat on his back, on the carpet to the right of me, a hanky over his face, snoring.

That wasn’t so bothersome. What was awful, was when he grunted, got to his feet, then went to sit on the lounge chair a few feet away, and he farted loud enough for half the people in the lounge to hear.

Ew!

But what really surprised me was this skinny proper looking white guy, some businessman perhaps, sitting across the aisle from me, he hardly even winced. The only way you could tell that he heard the guy let one rip was that he just paused a bit, didn’t even look up, and then continued reading.

And I thought Omigosh! He’s so used to this kind of thing!

And I felt SO embarrassed!

It was a Jet Airways flight from Delhi to Toronto, but there was a weird arrangement because we would be stopping in Brussels for a few hours where we had to deplane and everything.

I didn’t realize it was an unusual format for a flight.

Anyway, went through the passport control and they put a sticker on the back of my passport with some numbers and signatures and stuff.

I hate stickers on my passport! When you take them off they leave such a gooey residue!

We got onto the flight and what is it with South Asians and washrooms! Especially the men!

Going into the bathroom after one of these hairy Indian neanderthals is awful! Couldn’t help thinking that people who went in there after me were lucky because I would clean the place before and after!

As we landed in Brussels the crew made an announcement that apparently it was regulation that they’d have to spray a disinfectant throughout the cabin and anyone who was allergic or wearing contacts should cover their faces. So the flight attendant passes up and down the aisles with these two automatic spraying aerosol cans and I felt like we were a bunch of lepers being deloused or something.

In Brussels we had to get off the plane, with all our hand luggage, go through airport security again! Ooh the lineups!

And then we had to walk over to the new lounge area where all of us, mostly South Asian types wearing turbans, shalwar kameezes (me), sweaters and some wearing jeans and western clothes, sat with all our stuff, exhausted and just wanting to continue on our journey to Toronto.

Then the announcement came that they were boarding the flight and EVERYONE, I kid you not, got up and crowded around the gate to board as quickly as possible.

There were three people wearing uniforms who came down towards the gate. The flight was being operated by Air Canada and two of the people were white, an older gentleman who looked kind of German or Nordic with a Nordic accent, and then a petite blonde lady and then a black lady.

Well… for a moment the older gentleman and the petite blonde lady just looked at the throng of us exhausted South Asians, all crowded around the gate.

They just looked at us silently, like they were wondering if we were dangerous, going to revolt or something.

They looked scared.

And we were all standing there silent.

Nobody said anything, until I broke the silence in my perfect Canadian accent, “Um…are we supposed to board now?”

It was like the trance was broken and the petite white lady said, “Yes, but I don’t know why you’re all standing there… the line is over here.” (She was indicating a spot on the other side of those roped up barricade things.)

So the whole mob starts moving towards the ‘line’ and the old guy goes, “No! Stop! Stop! Only the families with small children may board first.”

And then the families with small children started going towards the line area and they were looking over their documents and allowing them through.

And the old guy waved his arms and said, “Back! Back! We’ll be boarding by row numbers!”

But nobody in the mob moved back. Not really.

So then he called, “Rows 35-47, may board now.”

But of course a man from row 30 tried to sneak in there and he turned him back. And then someone from row 29 tried their luck and were turned back again.

And while I’m standing there waiting for my row to be called I suddenly got really irritated at that stupid little sticker on the back of my passport and thought, “Okay, don’t need that any more! So I peeled it off, curled it up, and tossed it on the carpeted floor.

Finally when he said, “Okay, all other rows!”

I came forward and some lady to the right of the barrier pushed her way in beside me, and got in between me and my rolling bag, the one with my presentation stuff in it. I gently pulled at my bag. Really I was trying to be gentle, but it was bumping against another bag, and some guy behind me swore saying, “Oh these pushy people!” And I wondered if he was talking about me or the lady beside me, and then he kicked my bag in a supremely futile gesture.

But I just ignored it, because really, we were all tired, and these things would happen.

So when I went up to the old guy in uniform to show him my passport he turns it over and says, “Where’s your sticker?”

Like I just committed an unforgivable crime.

I looked at him blankly and told the truth. “I took it off.”

“Why???”

Again I told the truth, “Because I don’t like sticky things on my passport.”

“Why???”

“Because they make my passport all gooey.”

Couldn’t he see the residue of past stickers on the back of it?

And he said, “Well…you’ll just have to go back to immigration!”

And I thought he was referring back to that incredibly long line of security screening, and I thought, “Oh no! I’ll miss my flight!”

I said, “I can’t! It’s right there!” And I waved towards the carpeted floor on the other side of the barrier. “I just took it off.”

He said, “But why?”

“Because I don’t like sticky things on my passport! I can find it! I’ll show you!” And I was ready to move the people out of the way so I could find the curled up shreds of my sticker, but the black lady said, “How do we know it’s YOUR sticker?”

What a dumb question!

Tried to convince them but they were unmoved.

I tried the petite blonde lady and she assured me I had to go back to immigration. So I said, “Where?” And she waved her hand at the counter at the front of the gate.

Dealing with all these South Asians I just knew they wouldn’t grant me any quarter whatsoever.

So I went back to the counter and luckily it turned out that ‘immigration’ involved an official who was stationed right at the counter but had left for a moment.

When he showed up, I showed him my passport, he had a whole bunch of stickers on one of those sheet thingies. I told him I needed a new sticker. And he asked, “What happened to your own sticker?”

“I peeled it off.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t like sticky things on my passport. They make it gooey.”

“Well! You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“That proved it had been checked by Jet Airways.”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. Lesson learned. Don’t take off the sticker!”

So he checks my passport and puts a new sticker on it and says, (as if it needs repeating), “Don’t do that again!” Then he adds, “You can take it off once you board the airplane.”

So I go back, triumphantly, to the old guy and the black lady, with the sticker on my passport, and as I’m passing by, the crowd has thinned, and I see the curled up remnants of my old sticker and I point, “See? There it is! That’s my sticker.”

To show I was speaking the truth.

And the black lady says again, “How do I know that’s YOUR sticker?”

And I thought, “Really? Is anyone else admitting to doing something so stupid???”

But I didn’t say anything more, because they were the ones in power, and it’s better to just keep your mouth shut.

But I didn’t take the sticker off once I was safely on board. I didn’t take it off till I was collecting my luggage at Pearson airport.

And yup, it left a gooey residue on my passport.

 

 

Delhi Belly in Pune…

So I guess the Delhi belly phenomenon took a while to hit me, because I didn’t get it till the second last day of this whirlwind tour, here in Pune.

Delhi belly is basically vomiting and diarrhea. The runs, you name it.

Started with a general feeling of queasiness yesterday morning, and by the time it was time for my session at 3:30 in the afternoon, I was really ill.

Felt like the dog’s breakfast.

Just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep…but the show must go on.

I normally stand for the presentation, but the concession I made was I sat.

People couldn’t even tell I felt so awful.

I think the adventure in Amritsar caught up to me, and the general exhaustion.

Because even as I was making my way back to the hotel, I couldn’t hold it any longer, and I burst into tears.

That usually only happens when I’m absolutely exhausted.

I get totally weepy. Like a blubbering child.

I think that was the worst part of it all. And of course the organizers were totally wonderful, so solicitous, and me all flushed one minute, and shivering with chills the next.

It was a rough night! But alhamdu lillah, I woke up feeling better.

It’s funny how in my travel purse I have basically ever non-prescription medication you might need.

Never had to use the gravol and imodium as much as I had to use them over the past day and a half!

What a life saver!

And this morning, the organizers kept telling me that I didn’t have to push myself, it would be fine if I cut it short. She even said I could skip some parts, but the problem is the way the presentation has developed, every bit is necessary to get to the finale.

It wouldn’t work half so well if I skipped some parts.

I was scared, really nervous of how strong I’d be, but once I got started, I found myself feeling just fine.

But still pretty soon after my session was done I took advantage of the car going back to the hotel so I could come to my room and rest.

Not doing that last session would have been getting within inches of a finish line and not crossing over it.

It just felt wrong.

I’m so glad I was able to do it.

I know that the organizers of Bookaroo as well as Duckbill, my publisher, invested an incredible amount of resources in bringing me here, so to not finish…

The press coverage has been phenomenal!

Wow! What a big splash Bookaroo has made! It keeps growing and growing, with other cities expressing interest in hosting it.

And Wanting Mor has made quite the splash here!

I’m so glad.

I’ve done my part, but boy, am I ready to come home!

Tomorrow it’s an early flight back to Delhi then a whirlwind tour of the Taj Mahal, and then back to the airport for the homebound journey.

I must confess I’m looking forward to going home.

Over and out in Pune.