Shuvashree Chowdhury's Blog, page 22

‘The Dude’

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He comes and goes at will,

as he has an independent streak –

that won’t be enmeshed

in the ball of wool you throw at him,

in red and yellow colours

of love and concern –

even if it’s the biggest bowl of milk

or butter for that matter,

to woo his whims;

leave alone – your ability

to ground or ever possess him

and keep him as your pet.

 

I’ve named him – Dude,

as he’s got style and attitude,

also a flurry tail he’ll swish to curl

and with a flourish unfurl –

like it were a feather on his crown

that sets him distinctly apart

from the common feline breeds,

with his wide beckoning green eyes

that pull at your heartstrings:

And a bundle of antics – as he rolls

at your feet, rug, or in your bedroom –

licking himself clean off the muck,

his soft fluffy coat must surely pick up,

as he goes on neighborhood strolls –

to assert his independent free will,

at times not to be seen for a week.

 

He will then slyly creep back in –

when you’ve given up ever seeing him,

slithering up on your heart that’s mourning

when you drive back home one evening:

To tug at your dormant feelings

with his soft and guilty purring,

that you cannot ignore his histrionics;

so you will take him back into your heart

that’s still open and waiting to get entangled –

over again, in his playfully sweet nothings,

just like you might have allowed

the many dandies you knew growing up –

to play with your love and girlish instincts –

that had not learned to ward off

those who play to test their desirability,

by repeatedly hurting others feelings –

brandishing a fake power and masculinity

they’re far from depicting with sincerity.

 

PS: Just scribbled this straight on my phone, after seeing Dude (in the photos) – our stray pet cat, who I thought was never coming back this time…I was relieved and happy to see him safe and sound, but after a few moments – decided to distance myself, though he looked guilty.

On Coaching, Mentoring and Inspiring: A tribute to Mr S. Muthiah.

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“A single conversation across the table with a wise man is better than ten years mere study of books.” — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: “A person isn’t who they are during the last conversation you had with them – they’re who they’ve been throughout your whole relationship.”— Rainer Maria Rilke.

I’m deeply saddened today, to learn of the demise of Mr S Muthiah https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/S._Muthiah this morning: I’m adding these photos over again with him, to this facebook page album here, ‘The Chennai Launch of Across Borders’

At a Madras Book Club event, sponsored by Karlsburg (the retail store at most Indian airports). The Times of India,…

Posted by Across Borders on Friday, November 15, 2013

…so that you may be able to click on it and view this beautiful event that he made possible for me, as a debut author, relatively new to the city of Chennai then, in every small way possible.

Let me illustrate his greatness as a teacher, coach, guide and of course a fine human being here, as a token of my humble tribute to him…

I first emailed, then telephoned Mr Muthiah, who was 86 years then, to request him for permission – for Madras Book Club to host this event – over a year before the actual launch. He asked me to email the synopsis and a few chapters, then come and meet him with the book. After flipping through the pages and examining the quality of publishing, he asked me who my book distributor was, to which looking at him quizzically I replied: “Sir, I don’t have one”.

He didn’t look impatient at the least, or condescendingly, but explained in every detail, why it was a wasted effort to launch the book in a big way before it was in bookstores. He went to the extent of opening up his address book and giving me the email address and email of his friend from Madras Club, Rekha Heera, who owned IBH then. So anyway, after meeting Rekha, who turned out to be such a helpful and charming lady herself, I learned she had just sold IBH (India Book House). Then almost a year of struggling with getting a distributor, but never giving up – as Mr Muthiah, over the numerous conversations with him, even a few meetings – while he finished reading my book; was by now even more convinced that this story (that had nothing to do with Chennai) had to be told widely, I tied up with IBD (India Book Distributors).

Once that was done, Mr Muthiah suggested I have the Chennai launch just after Diwali for maximum mileage. He personally telephoned and fixed my meetings with Gen Raghavan at Gymkhana Club and with Kaveri Lalchand at her home. Sushila Ravindranath I had requested on my own, as she was my greatest moral support in this, since I first told her I was writing a book and later shared with her the manuscript first, even when no friend or family member supported it.

Mr Muthiah insisted I should meet Gen Raghavan and Kaveri personally and not just send the books and also discuss and read along with Kaveri. Gen Raghavan landed up interviewing me very astutely over my past two decades experiences, just as Mr Muthiah had done over my first meeting – to gauge the quality of my book, perhaps from judging my intellectual capacity.

Then a fortnight before the event, I was in conversation with both men, on the details of the event so that it would be a success. They gave me so many perspectives of my novel that I was overwhelmed by their knowledge of the period I had described.

Then just before the event, seeing how tensed I looked, Mr Muthiah called me and in front of almost the entire audience that was having tea he asked me, “Shuvashree, why are you dressed so brightly for a book launch?”

This was just the push I needed to snap out of my nervousness, as I saw him smiling, and I replied in jest: “Sir, what to do – my book is so serious, so I thought I’ll cheer up the audience.” He just grinned back at me, knowing I would now be fine in front of this intellectual gathering that I was fearing.

So though Mr Muthiah seems to have been in the background, from these photos…You can gauge now, what a source of inspiration and support he had been. Obviously I saw in his guidance, also considering he was known to speak his mind rather sharply, the will of God; and along with all the media support I received, with TOI even covering it on page 3 – I had the confidence to relaunch it this year.

I was just waiting to personally hand over my four new books to him on my next visit to Chennai…just to seek his blessings…but that’s no longer possible. Also he would have been pleased to know that the book he supported so strongly, is going to be a film soon…to be dubbed in Tamil too.

I dedicated my new novel Entwined Lives – “To the city of Chennai” – in his honour. We had several hearty chats on his decades as a journalist and he spoke very fondly of his Sri Lankan years wherein much to my surprise – he was so well versed in the fashion industry too!

But the motivation, strength and determination, that he has inspired in me, will never die and I will carry my memory of him forever.

Rest in peace, Sir! Ever grateful for all that you’ve done for me!

On Jet Airways: Quality matters…

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Sharing this with utmost sadness at the temporary suspension of operations …but also with tremendous hope (denoted in the hands around the logo) – that Jet Airways will be back and much stronger than before. I wanted to write this last night but just couldn’t bring myself to…

These two documents here, that I’ve treasured for the last two decades, in so many ways defines who I am, as it encompassed my youth…my second but longest work assignment. Just as one’s school, college, domicile and family defines a person…

And as a writer, it’s so important that I reveal this to the world…as it forms the basis of my views and attitude to life.

I received the laminated Jet Airways corporate mission statement in November 1995, just when I joined. There were several airlines at the time like East West, Modiluft, Air Sahara, Damania had just shut…And none of these were low cost carriers like the ones today…that thankfully came up just before I left the aviation industry. In my view, they are instrumental for a lot of the troubles and financial issues faced by full service carriers today – in an attempt to survive in the acutely price sensitive Indian market- where even the low price of your books decide your success…but then you see, I believe in quality that I will never compromise on – irrespective of price sensitivity

Protected: The Kanchenjunga: On a Blue Stage

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Protected: A Calcutta April Rain: Last Night…

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A Calcutta April Rain: Last Night…

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  Sheets of rain blew over the asphalt road –

trying desperately to wash away layers of charcoal:

As thunder growled like a swat of hungry lions,

feasting on a water buffalo in the woods under a full moon;

overpowering the faint streaks of lightning –

no match to their shrieks of feline delight in cavorting,

inciting the ferocious winds – as a coalition of Cheetahs

to chase waves of rain like a parcel of white deer

running to escape their onslaught – ravenous and rapid;

cheered by the roaring delight of the lions of thunder

purveying the game of stranded men dodging like gladiators

to escape this chilling jungle howl through these showers .

 

The cars, sped by urgently, as I stood gauging my plight,

they didn’t want to be caught for the night – like I might,

under the corrugated tin shed of a car mechanics garage –

that had come to my aid in rushing from this rain,

as I was far from home – in the course of my evening stroll:

But watching this rain game with stranded men and women,

under the bright street lights that bound our sights –

like watching gladiators at the ancient Roman Collosseum;

I decided – living this moment was well worth every effort

to type these lines on my phone that so long played notes –

and paint the beauty of this experience in my mind’s canvas,

even if I was threatened to be drenched to the bones

through the sheets of tin thrashing – my insulated soul.

 

PS: As crazy as it may seem, I actually typed the first stanza on my phone, under this garage that drenched every bit but the spot where I stood…just the beauty of being able to think and write in this set up,  when I was so scared of the roof and sides of the tin garage collapsing on all of us, after a sheet blew up and hurt a woman standing beside me badly, made me so grateful for the ability to do so…this is how writing has enhanced my life and brightened my smile.

On the importance of Attitude and Perseverance.

 

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Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference” — Winston Churchill: “Perseverance is not a long race; it is many short races one after the other” — Walter Elliot.

I’m not a quitter – and never have been – I believe in following things right up to their logical end.

These photos here, I took now – as my last few facebook and instagram posts have again reminded me of these pillars to my self assurance: are also testament that I didn’t choose the perceptibly easy way out to become a writer because I couldn’t cope in the world I was accustomed to.

It’s been my attitude – to not give up, till I’m successful in what I set out to do. It is these varied reinforcements here that mentally goaded me – whenever I began to feel like a complete failure to the world – for trying to become a writer at such a late age.

These statements remind me, I didn’t run away from corporate assignments when I thought they were challenging…but yes, I have quit some out of my long list rather fast – as they threatened to crush my self esteem. As to me, safeguarding your self assurance is the key to success in anything you might take up in life, however different from what you’ve ever done before. Success begets success.

When I thought I couldn’t see the stiff path ahead, to completing and publishing my two books, due to a constant haze of pessimism, discouragement and disbelief of family and close friends – who never ceased to remind me that I should not have quit my successful corporate assignment, I firmly decided to leave in December 2009 and ensure I didn’t have a fall back job as I would work much harder this way.

How can you give your best – how can you swim with firm strokes if you don’t take the complete plunge into sea – in not remaining clinging to the security of branches of trees by the shore!

I decided to give my decision to be a writer everything and more – especially my capacity to innovate and learn – that I had discovered at my jobs that were so different from each other.

That I could write, I knew – since I was a child, so that was my armour and moral strength, through the innumerable rejections in my writing career.

You don’t run away from challenges and become a writer, just because you think it is easier, cushier, more glamorous or lucrative. You give up your comfort zone and start out on a new climb late in life, if that’s what you’re sure about, after you’ve imbibed the attitude that you’re going to make it work somehow…whatever it takes…as you’ve always done so before.

So this little thing called attitude has been my priced takeaway from my numerous corporate assignments.

The first photo here, depicting my deepest sense of satisfaction- is my ‘moment of truth’: The precise moment when I tore open the courier envelope and held up the first copy of my debut novel in 2013.

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I’ve vividly described the above experiences in the book below…that’s just released…available on flipkart.com and amazon.in (also in all countries)

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The Purposeful Literary Life: A Tribute.

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On the stage of the classroom you stood –

addressing the aficionados of literature,

who’ve been invited to pay their homage

to the well-known departed Hindi litterateur:

along with professors and batches of students

who shared with him their Alma Mater –

the Udai Pratap Autonomous College,

where we’re all – now solemnly gathered

after you brought us to listen to your tribute –

as you’re being profiled, in this book, on Benaras.

.

The deceased was your senior, friend and mentor;

also you’re a friend of Kashinath Singh – his brother:

So Gaya Singh – yourself a reputed Hindi professor,

who’s revered in this city that pride’s it’s men of letters –

also that you’re a strong upholder of Benarasi culture;

have been called upon with other literary stalwarts

to speak at this afternoon’s bereavement get-together –

of those, the Hindi language scholastically nurtured.

 

As an essayist, poet, and a short-fiction writer,

also a literary critic, linguist, and commentator –

the late Namvar Singh has had a progressive career:

A long-term academician – as founder and chairman

of the Delhi based Jawaharlal Nehru University’s –

Centre of Indian Languages; also as a professor

of Hindi literature in several reputed colleges

including Banaras Hindu University –

where he completed and received his doctorate,

after matriculation and higher secondary education

from this college where we’re now assembled –  

to pay venerations, reacquaint with the departed soul’s

magnanimous contribution to nationalist literature –

for which he received the Sahitya Academy Award.

 

The attentive audience seemed amply morose,

even as the speakers droned in monotonous tones –

keeping their voices and sights bent low

in reviving memories of interfaces with the deceased:

for didn’t he also belong to them as to Banaras –

though in Delhi his remains still await to be cremated.

But a posthumous honour in his college, he’s accorded –

for as its illustrious scholar he’s brought upon it credit,

that will inspire batches of students currently tutored:

who’ll take back the day’s involvement with them

and never fail to evoke – hard work pays rich dividends,

not just in this lifetime, but also after one’s death.

 

And in recognizing, that life opens many more doors

in one’s childhood and throughout youth –

but starts to close them beyond the age of twenty-two:

Students may be inspired in creating a vision for life

which they feel free to update from time to time –

to also pursue short term goals and desires,

so their cruise of life may be more significant.

As long-term goals need patience, steadfast purpose –

for only with a sustained body of recognizable work

and not just bursts of fading out streaks of genius –

as fleeting trails left by large shooting stars that fall:

Can you earn devotion not only of benefactors,

but vie to be the pride – even of mere acquaintances.

 

PS: Dr Gaya Singh, second on the left of the photo on top, has been profiled in the Nov 2018 Bollywood film ‘Moholla Assi’ starring Sunny Deol…from the Hindi Novel written by reputed Hindi novelist Kashinath Singh. You can watch the trailer here on this link:  https://www.imdb.com/title/tt4949324/videoplayer/vi2566699545

The Mosque Shootouts in New Zealand: Excerpts from – ‘Across Borders’

With reference to the devastatingly heinous mosque shootouts in New Zealand…I share with you my views with a few excerpts from my novel Across Borders…

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Soon it is time for Ramadan. In 1964, the first day of Ramadan of the year 1383 AH, is the 16th of January. It has been over ten days that I am living in Zaina’s house. It is here and now that I gain understanding about the actual significance of Ramadan. Muslims around the world anticipate the arrival of this holiest month of the year and unite in a period of community-wide fasting and spiritual reflection.

——-

However, in spite of being part of a Muslim household, since I am a Hindu, I have religious independence and am not expected to observe the fast like everyone else. The children and I are exempted from the fast, but I participate in other activities with the rest of the family. Particularly during this time, as well as other times of the year, Muslims are encouraged to read and reflect on God’s guidance. The first verses of the Quran had been revealed during the month of Ramadan and the very first word was: “Read.” I spend considerable time trying to understand the learning’s of the Quran from Uncle and Aunty. I sit with the family when they have their meal at 4am. Though they do not eat anything till sunset, the children and I have our breakfast and midday meals as usual, prepared by the cook. I look forward to Iftar with the family. Iftar is the evening meal when Muslims break their fast during the holy month of Ramadan.

———

I am certain God will reward Farouk uncle and his family for their benevolence in hosting me, feeding me and keeping me under-cover all through Ramadan. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for this family, for hosting me during the sacred month, especially when other Muslims are out there killing Hindus in the riot. There cannot be a better form of charity than protecting and feeding the child of perhaps another God. Allah chose this family to give me a new lease of life, but more, to teach me to respect and love people of all religious faiths.

I will later learn of the killings of a number of my close I will later learn of the killings of a number of my close kin by Muslims in the current riot and the subsequent ones leading to the formation of Bangladesh in 1971. But my private experience of living amidst a Muslim family, who adopted me in turbulent times when not even my family or those close cared to find out whether I was still alive, will always spearhead my reverence for the faith. This incident will never allow me to hate Muslims like most Hindus and people of other religious faiths of my times, who in addition to their own hatred, will leave behind gory tales to feed the hatred of subsequent generations to come.

Anywhere in the world you can order your copy of Across Borders from the platforms here — https://shuvashreechowdhury.com/2019/02/19/international-sales-platforms-for-my-set-of-just-released-4-books/

If you want to know more about the book you could read the media reviews of the first edition in 2013 here: https://shuvashreechowdhury.com/2013/09/13/the-telegraph-reviews-my-book-across-borders/

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Sharing with you a relevant view…The most glowing compliment I’ve received so far for my book is from Dr. P.V. Krishnamoorthy, the first director-general of Doordarshan (Indian National Television), who was 93 in Nov 2013 when I received this letter:

‘My dear Shuvashree,

Often I pride myself that I know Bengal and the Bengalis as I have lived among them and understand their psyche. Eminent musicians of Bengal have sung my compositions and I have even dared to sing Rabindra Sangeet.

But your book Across Borders threw new light on the Bengalis. You are an engrossing story teller and your characters come to life. They are so real, so natural. I was happy that you brought in the Muslim family who sheltered Maya at great risk. I heard similar stories when I visited Dacca.

It might interest you to know that my father-in-law in Delhi protected a Muslim watchman from being massacred during the Pakistan riots. It is heart-warming to know that there are sane people across borders.

Your delineation of characters was superb, so true and real that I was able to identify myself with many situations. I happen to share many of the traumatic predicaments in which Maya finds herself specially the trials and tribulations she had to undergo when man killed man. I was a sad witness to many killings in anti-Indian riots in Burma and the slaughter of Muslims in Delhi.

I was deeply touched by the story of the Muslim family which sheltered Maya during the anti-Hindu riots in East Pakistan. I heard many such stories during my visit to Dacca years later. I was reminded of how my boss Prabhat Mukerji and I ventured into Paharganj to rescue a Pathan broadcaster and his wife. Such stories need to be told.

I wish this book is read by non-Bengalis. It unobtrusively brings out our shared cultural and social norms…that in spite of apparent diversity there is a silken thread of unity that binds us all. Was it Gurudev who said, “Ek sutre bandhi acchi sahasra jibon?”

I finished reading your novel in two straight sittings. Need I say more?

P.V. Krishnamoorthy.’

Protected: Seeking Spiritual Nourishment: The Serpent around Shiva’s neck.

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