Nankhatai Biscuits, Bunraku and the Theory of Knowing When to Read!
Writing, and for that matter reading, has taken on a whole new meaning in these cyber-centric times. Who had heard of blogging, kindle and twitter a few short years ago? And how did writing get to be known as ‘content’? But here we are, wholly immersed in the world of micro and instant everything, and sometimes I wonder if the next generation will have the patience or the attention span to actually read a book from cover to cover. Hopefully, this reflection will not deter writers of books- I think it would be a great pity for people, kids and adults alike, to be deprived of reading a novel, in the good old-fashioned way that I used to!
The unforgettable taste of nankhatai biscuits dipped in chocolate milk and hot summer afternoons spent under the shade of the big banyan tree in the garden in front of my house are the two unforgettable memories I associate with being transported into the exciting world of make-believe. Summer holidays were the time to devour books, and when I was young, these were mainly obtained from circulating libraries; not for us was the luxury of brand new books with their inimitable fresh papery scent! We were frugal then, even though we didn’t know rainforests would be severely depleted one day. But there was something to be said for well-worn, much thumbed editions that came my way- they were like old, comforting friends with which to while the long, TV and laptop-less hours away.
I remember being held in thrall by adventures of the quintessential English children who solved mysteries, got themselves in and out of scrapes, outwitted the bad guys with aplomb, went to the most exciting schools and yes, ate exotic sounding things like macaroons, potted meat sandwiches and hot, buttered scones (remember, I’m talking sixties here, and all these delicacies had not yet made their way to India!). What wouldn’t I have given to go to school at Mallory Towers, or sail a boat to a forbidden island. And reading made all that possible-with the added bonus of learning something new every day. At some inspired point at the age of eight, I even decided to concoct a little story of my own, replete with smugglers, intrepid children, lost treasure, and of course, a loyal dog who thumped his tail and stole bacon off his owner’s plate at regular intervals. This was written laboriously in a small notebook with a grubby pencil in largely illegible handwriting; it was a good ‘time-pass’ activity, but fortunately no one really read it besides me! I still remember the line I considered my masterpiece: it went something like this. ‘In the cold, damp darkness of the cave, Susie heard complete silence for the first time in her life, and she suddenly understood the meaning of real fear.” How pleased I was with my turn of phrase!
As I grew up, my passion and fascination with books continued, but I studied art rather than literature, and became a graphic designer. Oddly, given my avid preoccupation with reading, I’ve never actually studied literature. How to critique a piece of writing, or even how to analyse it, how to recognise a theme or a motif were things that were not in my realm…. until my kids were in high school studying in the IB system, and I was exposed to writing in the technical sense. I guess kids going to school pretty much like going back to school yourself; I suddenly developed an appetite for European history through the World Wars, and discovered the existence of Bunraku, a traditional Japanese form of puppetry, and something intriguingly esoteric called the Theory of Knowledge. Wow. All in all, the name of the game was reading everything I could get my hands on. And all of a sudden education took on a new meaning!
Though I learnt how to analyse a piece of writing through all this back to school business, the actual writing didn’t come till a bit later. Working with writers and creative people for twenty plus years, the lines between art and copy began to blur over time, and I began to write as well- at first, advertising copy and later, I began writing travel content for my husband’s destination management company. That moved me on to food content for various platforms. The next step, seamlessly, was clearly a novel. I’m not sure how and when the bright idea dawned; unlike my new protagonist Simran, writing a novel was not some burning desire that I had cherished.
‘Secrets and Second Chances happened over a period of six months, and once I had a manuscript, I held on to it for another year without actually doing anything! Call it fear of rejection, doubts about its viability, the terror of unleashing such a personal part of me onto an unsuspecting public, whatever. I finally decided to send it to a couple of trusted friends to read, and then everything took off from there. The acceptance of my manuscript by three publishers in a very short space of time (thanks to a canny literary agent) was quite gratifying, and it looked like I was all set. However, the process of writing and getting published, I discovered, was way simpler than actually selling the book. I somewhat naïvely believed that once the book was published, I was home free… no one told me about promotion, publicity, launch events and book tours.
“You have to put yourself out there,” said the ones in the know, nodding wisely. “How will anyone know you’ve written a book unless you tell them about it?”
Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, the idea that my book would be marketed by the publisher while I sat back and basked in my achievement was banished rudely. I had to, literally speaking, wake up and smell the coffee, and get my act together. One lives and learns, as the adage goes, and when ‘Nights in Pink Satin’ was published, I was ready. Well, kind of. And eventually, the effort is worth it because I do want as many people as possible to read the work that I have so enjoyed creating! Nights in Pink Satin is feisty and fun, a racy light read and I have received amazing response from everyone who has read it- including my 85 year old father who devoured the book in a day, and loved the story and the characters. I had so much fun writing the book that I truly hope it brings as much joy to my readers.
I’m now well into my third novel, enjoying the process as much as ever. I relish the way everyday incidents, chance meetings with people and the odd remark overheard in a movie theatre can morph into inspiration of the best kind. I’m often asked about my penchant for writing stories based in metro cities; my answer to that is, it’s what I see around me, and what I know well. It’s a world I’m comfortable in, and it comes naturally to me.
The unforgettable taste of nankhatai biscuits dipped in chocolate milk and hot summer afternoons spent under the shade of the big banyan tree in the garden in front of my house are the two unforgettable memories I associate with being transported into the exciting world of make-believe. Summer holidays were the time to devour books, and when I was young, these were mainly obtained from circulating libraries; not for us was the luxury of brand new books with their inimitable fresh papery scent! We were frugal then, even though we didn’t know rainforests would be severely depleted one day. But there was something to be said for well-worn, much thumbed editions that came my way- they were like old, comforting friends with which to while the long, TV and laptop-less hours away.
I remember being held in thrall by adventures of the quintessential English children who solved mysteries, got themselves in and out of scrapes, outwitted the bad guys with aplomb, went to the most exciting schools and yes, ate exotic sounding things like macaroons, potted meat sandwiches and hot, buttered scones (remember, I’m talking sixties here, and all these delicacies had not yet made their way to India!). What wouldn’t I have given to go to school at Mallory Towers, or sail a boat to a forbidden island. And reading made all that possible-with the added bonus of learning something new every day. At some inspired point at the age of eight, I even decided to concoct a little story of my own, replete with smugglers, intrepid children, lost treasure, and of course, a loyal dog who thumped his tail and stole bacon off his owner’s plate at regular intervals. This was written laboriously in a small notebook with a grubby pencil in largely illegible handwriting; it was a good ‘time-pass’ activity, but fortunately no one really read it besides me! I still remember the line I considered my masterpiece: it went something like this. ‘In the cold, damp darkness of the cave, Susie heard complete silence for the first time in her life, and she suddenly understood the meaning of real fear.” How pleased I was with my turn of phrase!
As I grew up, my passion and fascination with books continued, but I studied art rather than literature, and became a graphic designer. Oddly, given my avid preoccupation with reading, I’ve never actually studied literature. How to critique a piece of writing, or even how to analyse it, how to recognise a theme or a motif were things that were not in my realm…. until my kids were in high school studying in the IB system, and I was exposed to writing in the technical sense. I guess kids going to school pretty much like going back to school yourself; I suddenly developed an appetite for European history through the World Wars, and discovered the existence of Bunraku, a traditional Japanese form of puppetry, and something intriguingly esoteric called the Theory of Knowledge. Wow. All in all, the name of the game was reading everything I could get my hands on. And all of a sudden education took on a new meaning!
Though I learnt how to analyse a piece of writing through all this back to school business, the actual writing didn’t come till a bit later. Working with writers and creative people for twenty plus years, the lines between art and copy began to blur over time, and I began to write as well- at first, advertising copy and later, I began writing travel content for my husband’s destination management company. That moved me on to food content for various platforms. The next step, seamlessly, was clearly a novel. I’m not sure how and when the bright idea dawned; unlike my new protagonist Simran, writing a novel was not some burning desire that I had cherished.
‘Secrets and Second Chances happened over a period of six months, and once I had a manuscript, I held on to it for another year without actually doing anything! Call it fear of rejection, doubts about its viability, the terror of unleashing such a personal part of me onto an unsuspecting public, whatever. I finally decided to send it to a couple of trusted friends to read, and then everything took off from there. The acceptance of my manuscript by three publishers in a very short space of time (thanks to a canny literary agent) was quite gratifying, and it looked like I was all set. However, the process of writing and getting published, I discovered, was way simpler than actually selling the book. I somewhat naïvely believed that once the book was published, I was home free… no one told me about promotion, publicity, launch events and book tours.
“You have to put yourself out there,” said the ones in the know, nodding wisely. “How will anyone know you’ve written a book unless you tell them about it?”
Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, the idea that my book would be marketed by the publisher while I sat back and basked in my achievement was banished rudely. I had to, literally speaking, wake up and smell the coffee, and get my act together. One lives and learns, as the adage goes, and when ‘Nights in Pink Satin’ was published, I was ready. Well, kind of. And eventually, the effort is worth it because I do want as many people as possible to read the work that I have so enjoyed creating! Nights in Pink Satin is feisty and fun, a racy light read and I have received amazing response from everyone who has read it- including my 85 year old father who devoured the book in a day, and loved the story and the characters. I had so much fun writing the book that I truly hope it brings as much joy to my readers.
I’m now well into my third novel, enjoying the process as much as ever. I relish the way everyday incidents, chance meetings with people and the odd remark overheard in a movie theatre can morph into inspiration of the best kind. I’m often asked about my penchant for writing stories based in metro cities; my answer to that is, it’s what I see around me, and what I know well. It’s a world I’m comfortable in, and it comes naturally to me.
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