death by blogging

Compulsive blogging can actually kill, says a recent news report. Some folks who got into blogging reams of daily, weekly and monthly blog posts to build a buzz around products apparently could not cope with the hectic pace. One blogger, who earned a living from posting in gazillion blogs died of a heart attack while another with comparable blogging compulsions also simply fizzled out of this world.
Were these deaths a string of coincidences? Any overwhelming compulsion can stress a person out, resulting in avoidable health problems and perhaps untimely death. The spontaneous joy of blogging, or any activity, for that matter, is destroyed if one is under constant pressure to churn out a certain quantity of writing.
Blogging for pleasure sans profit can also sometimes spring surprise rewards. My writer friend Vinod Ekbote
recently won a prize dinner for his
blog .One success led to another. "The New Indian Express carries an
excerpt from a post from my blog in today's edition on the front page," he says.
"The excerpt, incidentally, is from the post I wrote about the prize
dinner I won for my blog.
Yesterday, the Editor in Chief of Random House India-Chiki Sarkar-
left a comment on my blog though only to tell Jhumpa Lahiri's new book
can be ordered online.
Blogging sure is getting me attention folks. I'm on cloud 99!"

You can win, and retain your health and sanity, and perhaps even gain some fame and money by being spontaneous.

tripe and trivia with morning coffeee

I sometimes pity readers of English language publications in India. Popular magazines and newspapers carry an overwhelming amount of advertising and commerce driven material. Enough has been said about even editorial space in major newspapers being available at a price. Do we need to daily read news items aggressively pushing for farmyard animal type promiscuity? Must we be fed an overdose of celebrity tripe and trivia with our morning coffee?

We seem to have the women's magazine style of formula fare on the one hand, and 'literary' and sometimes boring and inaccessible 'highbrow' writing on the other. But what about well-written, imaginative and interesting works which a wider range of general readers can understand and enjoy?

There could be several reasons for this. There are many high quality popular magazines in our Indian languages where new writers can test and hone their literary skills. But English, the language that strangely enough connects our mutilingual society, has too much of commerce driven drivel in print.

The book publishing scene is also commercially driven. Big names and celeb authors sell. If one is not already famous, one can't hope to get a book published easily. The few original and interesting new authors in English who do manage to gt published, get little publicity. If people don't know about new books or see them displayed in store shelves, how will they buy and read them?

The attitude of some serious writers is also interesting. A well-known consumer rights activist, classical musician and author of seven books recently told me, "Only one of my books is a collection of short stories. The rest are serious works on biographies, music, etc."

Idiots who indulge in creative writing (usually unpaid because it is non-commercial) get routinely ridiculed even in Indian writers' groups, :-))because their writing doesn't earn big money.

foolish thoughts

It's April Fool's Day. Writers, especially the 'creative types', are perceived as generally fooling around and never engaged in anything remotely connected to serious pursuits. Even 'serious' writers tend to look down upon the foolish dreamers. The other day, a well known consumer rights activist, musician and author of seven books told me, "Only one of my books is a collection of short stories. The rest are all on serious subjects such as biography and music."

If, as my friend Bob Sanchez says, fiction is based on lies, then why do we lie? Are more likely to add colourful touches to the truth with those we know, rather than with perfect strangers?
People lie for several reasons. We desire to protect our public selves, and consciously try to mould the impressions we convey to others. We also lie to protect out private lives and our sense of self worth.

We lie to escape from reality, and sometimes, we also lie in an effort to uravel the web of half truths that entangle reality.

why do we tell stories?

Why do we tell stories? In this busy world where nobody has time to stop and listen, why do we continue writing stories, hoping someone will read till the end?


For me, stories are roundabout ways to arrive at the roots of reality. If we dig straight and directly, we are more likely to destroy the fine, delicate roots which nourish life itself. Life's mysteries and the sense of wonderment they engender, cannot always be filed away and conveniently categorized as dry data. That's where the storyteller enters, to breathe life into words and emotions, and evoke all the nuances that make up life.

Let's take a question which many of us face. What does it mean to be an Indian? It isn't easy to define the sense of identity we feel in a land of many cultures and languages. I'm a Bengali (Bong), but folks in Karnataka, where I live, take me for a Coorgi or a Mangalorean. Some have even taken it for granted and tried to converse with me in their totally incomprehensible to me dialects. I've given up trying to explain to people that I'm a Bong (noo, not from Kolkata, only rarely visit there, never lived in those parts, no roots there. but I know the language well enough to translate a Bangla story or two into English) I'm a Bong born in Delhi because my father settled in Delhi after Independence/Partition (1946, to be exact). Ancestors are East Bengalis. And now I live in Karnataka and speak passable Kannada. I've given up explaining to people and just say, I'm Indian.

I wrote a short story which has a reference to this feeling of being different, but also being totally Indian. The link to 'A Royal Tour' is on the right sidebar.

I have always wondered how much of one's personal experience can go into a story and still be considered fiction? This particular story of mine is based on my true life experiences. My only child is named Siddhartha, and he is a newly emerged from the chrysalis doctor. This piece started out as creative non fiction. But somewhere along the way, it evolved into fiction. As the real life Siddhartha observed,"The character evolves into someone like me towards the end, but at the beginning of the story, he is quite different."

I put this question to Indian author and actor Tom Alter, who despite his markedly Caucasian looks, is 100% Indian, right down to peppering his English speech with untranslateable Hindi and Urdu colloquialisms. Here's his reply;
"As for putting personal truth in our writing? -- it is the only thing to do -- all writers do -- they must -- we must -- in both of my novels, I am everywhere -- but not always as 'I' "

I hope some readers of this blog will pause to enlighten me. How much of your own experiences and emotions do you put into your fiction?

Kafka in today's Bangalore

Why do folks read books? Reading works for me because books give me interesting and unusual perspectives on reality. I was mulling over the term 'Kafkaesque' when reality overtook me. Recent revision of electoral rolls in Karnataka threw up huge anomalies. Many names, including those of me and my family members, vanished in a stroke of inscruitable, elusive authority. While I struggled to get it rectified, my son gave me an idea. Why not write a fun piece on my predicament? I did, and here's what was published on the Editorial page of Deccan Herald on the 30th of Jan.

Reading Kafka and reconnecting to life can produce interesting results :-) I'm not quite sure how the Easter Island guys fit in except that to me, they're rather Kafkaesque, too.

IDENTITY CRISIS

On a chill January morning, I woke from troubled dreams in a cold sweat. No demon slithered out from the toothpaste tube, and the kitchen sink did not suck me into a bottomless vortex. The morning routine continued without disasters more dire than the milk boiling over. Deceived into complacency, I dug into a reassuring plate of idlis.

The doorbell clanged, nearly jolting my breakfast off my lap. A lanky, dour-faced man peered in through the door and barked, “Voters’ list check.”
“Four voters here,” I said, proudly flashing our photo identity cards.
“No voters enrolled from this door number,” said Dour-face.
The nightmare of a struggle for identity, understanding and security had begun.

I pored over his lists, checking every page. Our numbers, our names, our very existence had vanished in a stroke of bureaucratic whim and authority. “We’ve lived here since 1995, and voted in every election,” I pleaded. “Please correct the list.”
“Proof of identity and residence?” Dour-face growled.
“If I didn’t live here, I wouldn’t be opening the door dressed like this. And that’s undoubtedly my mug on the card,” I said, waving our photo identity cards again.

“As per my list, you don’t exist. Register again with valid proof of residence.” Dour-face thrust a Form 6 into my hand and marched off to negate the identities of the folks next door.

Unable to comprehend my fate, I searched websites and directories for an elusive supreme authority that could restore my true selfhood. The name and contact number of an official offered hope of redemption.
“My family members are registered as voters from this address since 1995, but your enumerator says our names are not included.”
“What is your problem?”
Feeling more preposterous than a cockroach in a clown suit, I repeated my query.
“Where do you stay?”
I told him.
“Name?”
“Gregor Samsa…,” I almost blurted out, remembering Franz Kafka’s hero who lost his identity and was transformed into a gigantic insect. But I stopped myself, pleased that I could still remember my name.
“I don’t attend to your area,” the official said, although the website stated otherwise. No, he didn’t know whom I should contact.


I am now struggling against hope and fear, reason and inanity, in a confusing world where I just might find an intangible truth about the human condition

Authors Tom Alter and Nury Vittachi on writing

I recently had the pleasure of interacting with two fascinating novelists, Nury Vittachi of Hong Kong, and Tom Alter, who despite his blond hair and emphatically 'western' appearance, is "100% Indian."

Hong Kong’s best-selling English language author Nury Vittachi has an amazing range of over 90,000 fiction and non-fiction books in print. He is best known for his humorous crime novels about the Feng Shui Detective. This versatile author writes for children as well as for adults, and can simultaneously elicit laughter and provoke deep thinking.

Tom Alter was born in Mussorie, India, to American missionary parents. After acting in over 250 Indian films by eminent filmmakers such as Satyajit Ray (Shatranj Ke Khiladi) and Ismail Merchant, and starring in 50 TV serials and numerous stage productions, Tom Alter directed his artistic talents toward writing novels. A sportsman adept at playing cricket, basketball, tennis and badminton, writing on sports related themes was a natural choice.
His latest novel, The Longest Race, revolves around a brilliant young marathon runner. The book, Alter says, “is an allegory about anyone who wants to have a challenge in life.” The theme is of universal relevance, and not a fairy tale with a winner. "For me it is much more than a story about sports,” he says. “Bahadur is a hero of today's India, not only in the field of sports.”

Where do they find inspiration and ideas for their stories? Nury Vittachi says, "The world is a funny place. I don’t have to invent humour – mostly I just watch it and write down what I see.”

Tom Alter also finds ideas from the familiar world around him. “I grew up in Rajpur, where Bahadur’s story is set,” Alter says. “As kids, we freely played with the children of malis (gardeners) and chowkidars (watchmen). I could definitely identify with them.”

These two authors shared interesting insights about their unique approaches to the craft of writing. Alter says, "I rarely share what I write with anyone -- am too possessive about it -- am hopeless at taking advice." Bahadur's story is one that Alter lived with for many years before writing it down. Naturally, he got it "around 70-80% right in the first draft." Subsequent revisions did not result in any major changes in the plot or characters.

Vittachi's writing is amazingly varied. Does it require a different mindset, different type of artistic discipline, to write books like the NORTH WIND about journalists under siege, and then humorous essays and detective stories? How does he handle this switch in styles and themes?

Nury Vittachi says; "I’m a big mouth! I write almost as fast as I talk – up to 5000 words a day. Can you imagine putting up with someone like me for days or years on end? My wife is a saint."

He shares an interesting anecdote about his novel, Asian Values. "That book was fun to do. When I wrote the first draft, I showed it to my writer friend Xu Xi who told me that it didn’t capture the emotions that two strangers clamped together would feel. So I actually arranged to be clamped to a stranger for 24 hours to get a better understanding of how it would feel. It was an unforgettable experience (the unfortunate victim to whom I was clamped was a young female jazz singer). Then I re-wrote the book."

beyond 2008

As the new year unfolds, I hope my blog will grow along with it. If my posts were infrequent of late, there were solid reasons for it. The ideas came and vanished like bubbles. Thanks to the pressures of life, I rarely managed to reach out to the iridescent globes before they floated away into eternity.

True, as a friend suggested, I could have spewn out a stream of random posts on anything like, you know, recipes. I'm a respectable cook and will share recipes with friends, but not here on this blog. This began as a 'thoughtful blog', and I intend to continue on those lines without compromising on quality. By thoughts, I don't mean "listen to my rambling rants as I slouch on the beanbag and count the hairs on my arm" sort of thing. I respect my readers' intelligence as much as my own. I don't care to waste my time reading other people rambling about what they ate for lunch, and I won't impose such pointless trivia on others.

The thoughts will continue; on life, on books and writing,and insights from reading and interaction with authors for my literary column.

The posts will come at least once a week.

Promise!

Children Speak Up

I write on anything that interests me, and am happy to publicize a worthy cause. My article on children's participation in local self-goverment in rural India was published in December by Infochange news and features. Other sites and bloggers have put this up, so I'm sharing it again here. Let's spread the word.



Children Speak Up

By Monideepa Sahu

11 January, 2008
Countercurrents.org

The Karnataka government's panchayati raj ministry recently issued an
order (638-2007, dated 30.10.2007) making it mandatory for all
panchayats to provide children a platform to put their concerns
forward directly to elected representatives at special children's gram
sabhas.

The order makes it mandatory for panchayats to report back on action
taken to address issues raised by the children.

Concerned for Working Children (CWC), an NGO that has been involved
with child-related issues for over two decades, was consulted during
the drafting of the circular.

This is indeed a welcome move -- an affirmation of the child's right
to participate in the decision-making process. "(It) recognises
children as citizens of today and highlights the accountability of
elected representatives to the children of their communities," says
the CWC.

But if it is not to fall by the wayside as yet another
well-intentioned but ineffective measure, the order must be properly
implemented. Intensive and systematic capacity-building is required to
enable children to effectively use these gram sabhas to realise their
rights through active participation and cooperation with adults in
authority. Likewise, adults, especially those responsible for
facilitating the gram sabhas, must be trained to appreciate their
importance and to conduct the proceedings smoothly. Children need
special guidance in order to derive optimum benefit from the gram sabhas.

Makkala panchayats (children's councils) were introduced for the first
time as a parallel government of children working closely with
panchayats in Karnataka in 1995 as a pilot project by the CWC and the
Bhima Sangha (a union by, for and of working children, facilitated by
the CWC). This was a collaboration with the ministry of rural
development and panchayati raj, government of Karnataka, aimed at
empowering children. Under this project, the first children's gram
sabhas took place in Keradi, Alur and Belvi in Udupi district, in
2002. The chief executive officer of Udupi district, the state
government-appointed administrative head of the district panchayat,
observed the functioning of the children's panchayats. Impressed by
what he saw, the CEO requested that the CWC replicate its work in all
panchayats in Kundapura.

The model of including children in local self-government has been in
place since 2004 in all 56 panchayats of Kundapura taluka, Udupi
district, Karnataka, covering a population of 380,000, of which around
160,000 are children (2001 census). Of them, nearly 20,000 children
and adults have taken active part in gram sabha meetings and allied
discussions and surveys. Children are encouraged to become actively
involved in planning for local issues under the Five-Year Plan system.

In the Kundapura taluk gram sabhas, children listed problems and
difficulties affecting their community, as they saw them. "Stray
cattle make the area in front of our school dirty and smelly," said
one child. "This place gets flooded during the rains forcing us to
take a lengthy route to school. Our mothers also find it difficult to
trudge so far to fetch water," said another child from the Hallihole
panchayat. Wading through the flooded stretch was not a problem for
the adults in the area, but for little children the water was
neck-deep. Alcoholism was another major problem, and children bore the
brunt. In Golihole panchayat, intoxicated fathers beat up their wives
and traumatised the children. In Hengavalli panchayat, many children
felt that money spent on liquor was a major cause of their poverty.

While tabling local issues, the children of Kundapura taluk offered
practical solutions benefiting not just themselves but the community
as a whole. They showed great organisational capabilities and clarity
of thought as they conducted surveys, collected data, and documented
discussions between groups of children, women, the differently-abled
and other special groups in support of the solutions they came up
with. A boundary wall could be constructed around the school, thus
keeping out stray cattle and providing children with a safe play area.
The daily drudgery of village women and children could be reduced by
constructing a simple footbridge to shorten the tortuous route to
school and the potable water source. Alcoholism and its attendant
evils could be curbed by closing down liquor shops and persuading
liquor traders to take up alternative means of livelihood.

The first series of special children's gram sabhas for 2007 have
already commenced and have had a powerful impact on reinforcing local
governance. Hundreds of children took part in a recent sabha in
Hallihole, a remote panchayat in Udupi district. The panchayat
reported back to the children about the successful implementation of
19 programmes that had directly arisen out of issues raised by the
children at the 2006 children's gram sabhas. These included the
construction of toilets in schools and improved access to basic
facilities and services, not just for children but the entire
community. President of the panchayat, Shankar Narayan Chatra, said:
"It is now absolutely clear to me why children's participation is
essential to strengthen local government. Children not only list their
problems, they also describe the implications of the problems and the
importance of addressing them. This has been extremely useful to us to
develop our action plans."

Seven-hundred-and-fifty children participated in the children's gram
sabha at Hardalli Mandalli, also in Udupi district. After organising a
procession in which they voiced their concerns, the children made
detailed presentations about local issues such as the need for a
community hall for the local high school, and water facilities and
toilets for homes that lack them.

Replicating the successful model of these special children's gram
sabhas throughout the state will involve a high degree of commitment
and cooperation among all the involved parties. The unique
socio-economic factors and polity of each village pose challenges that
will have to be taken on board. Each problem will have to be tackled
with patience and imagination to arrive at equitable solutions that
are acceptable to the entire community.

The sabhas should be widely publicised and include within their scope
all children, including children out of school, migrant children, and
children with special needs. Children with special needs and children
from marginalised sections of society need to be encouraged to
participate, while extra effort must be made to include children from
migrant communities into the sabhas.

The actual sabha itself should be conducted in a lively and
interesting way to motivate children to attend and discuss their
problems honestly and without inhibition. A non-judgemental and safe
environment must be ensured for all children.

At present, the special children's gram sabhas have been envisaged
only for rural areas. But urban children too need to be included in
the process of self-government. The possibility of holding urban
children's sabhas should be explored with NGOs working with children
and city corporations and municipalities.

Adults also must be trained to make the best use of the system. Gram
panchayat members and government officials involved in enabling the
special children's gram sabhas should be provided inputs regarding
children's rights and addressing violations of these rights. They need
to be made aware of the importance of enabling children's
participation in local self-government. Only enlightened adults who
probe and question the given scheme of things, and consistently review
the situation, can act responsibly towards developing a healthy
socio-economic basis for democracy to thrive.

Likewise, budgets must be specifically allocated towards addressing
the issues raised by children. The current government order makes it
mandatory for panchayats to report back on the action taken, ensuring
a degree of compliance. However, panchayats can show lack of funds as
an excuse for inaction. A solution, suggests Kavita Ratna of the CWC,
would be for the state government to set aside a specific percentage
of the budget to address child-related issues.

Critics of the government order believe that the emphasis on
children's participation may be misconstrued as a dilution of adult
responsibility. Although it is vital to inculcate democratic values in
young children, adult community leaders must not make this an excuse
to shirk their responsibilities and grow apathetic towards
child-related issues. Kavita Ratna of the CWC says: "The new system
makes adults more accountable." In a major shift from its earlier
stance, the current government order links these gram sabhas to the
planning process and programme implementation of panchayats.
Panchayats are now required to provide follow-up reports on action
taken to address the issues raised by children. "We have already seen
it in action," Ratna says. "Panchayat members are now preparing
databases, setting projects in motion, and taking child-related issues
more seriously."

InfoChange News & Features, December 2007

Now it's my turn

The meme effort threw up interesting ideas. Ruth said, talking about one's 'waekness' as a writer wasn't part of the original meme. But strengths go hand-in-hand with weaknesses, don't they? Perhaps one's greatest strength would be to face those weaknesses and overcome them.

Zafar said, "I wish you had written more about your writing process, your publications and how you deal with publishing successes and failures."

So here's my take. The writing process, especially with creative writing, is something that happens. It's like a little brown seed which lies dormant and unnoticed for months until raindrops urge it out of its slumber. Wonderful things happen inside it, things which transcend the dry scientific facts of chemistry and botany. The tiny green sprout, tender leaves unfurling, it's a miracle each time.

I take the delicate, unique new ideas and examine them. Then, they are nurtured until they are strong enough to be transplanted into well-manured flower beds. It's hard work tending, pruning, weeding and nurturing each seedling. While i daydream of beautiful flowers, some of them wilt in my hands before even producing a bud. But when some live on and thrive, the final burst of blooms compensates for everything.

A bouquet of stories or poems are ready at last. They lie in a corner of my home. I love them, but nobody else stops by to admire them. If anyone happens to chance upon them, they're brushed aside, or not noticed at all. Can they compete with the georgeous, exotic blooms behind the florist's plate glass window and neon lit signboard? The hybrid roses with imposing names, the lush, expensive orchids, the flowers which only grow in controlled conditions in glass houses.

I offer mine to passers by, hoping someone will stop to smell my simple, nameless flowers and want to hold them close. They rush off, or if they pause, they quickly turn up their noses and rush off.

Then, a lady smiles and takes one, thanking me sweetly. She never offers to pay, and my flower vanishes with her into the crowded city streets. But I'm happy my flower found a home, someone who cared, appreciated its beauty, if even for a moment.

When the rejections come, as they do for most creative writers, experienced friends from writers workshops tell me they've all faced rejections and survived.
"It's not you, or your story; move on with your life. You're a good person; you're a competent writer; chin up and remember Robert Bruce's spider."

It's happened to me a few times, four to be exact, when people have read my stories in workshops and asked me to send something for their journal. The folks at
Hobart
took one of my stories this way for their fifth print issue. Their editorial suggestions were most thought-provoking, as they worked with me to make the story the best it could be.
I am proud of this publication, just as I'm happy with all my stories which made it through the 'slush pile.'


The feeling of elation is fleeting, though; the joy of holding the magazine, leafing through the thick, white pages intersperped with rich photographs and artwork, neatly printed stories with whom I'm proud to keep company. The greatest joy was the process of putting the idea on to the page. Thinking, imagining many possibilities before settling down with the one I loved best. The creative journey itself is the greatest joy.

Then, it's time to move on and plant more seedlings. I wonder how many will sprout and blossom at last, and what sort of flowers they will be.

meme! I've been tagged

I just got tagged! Life is an eternal learning process and I've learnt a new word. Meme; propaging a series of related blog posts by asking blogger friends to write on a common topic. Writer friend
Ruth dropped by with words of encouragement. Then Bob Sanchez tagged me.

So here's the challenge. They've asked me what are my writing strengths and weakensses. For strengths, the first thing that comes to mind is encouraging friends, fellow writers who have been through it all and understand just what you are facing. Writing is a lonely profession, if its a profession at all. It's exhilarating to find like-minded people, even if one has to troll the Internet and seek them out from far-flung corners.
Especially when one is into creative writing, it takes a long time to find openings and acceptance. That's when writer friends pitch in, offering suggestions on how to tweak that story or poem into near-perfection, locating literary journals, and dealing with rejections. And oh yes, writer friends prod you into getting back to writing when inertia seems overwhelming. That happens to me often, and it's my biggest weakness.

My other strengths? I'm good with descriptions, bringing scenes, colours to life.

Hmm,then come the many weakness. I'm a slow writer, taking much time over a story and its numerous drafts.

another major weakness is that I don't 'look' like a writer. I'm not exactly sure how a writer is supposed to look or behave. But I know several who can command a fan following on the strength of much less actual writing compared with many others. It probably helps to give the impression of being 'august' or 'imposing', whatever that may mean to people who matter.

I don't want to dwell on more weakness because there are so many. Now I have to pass on the baton and hope someone will continue the chain of posts.
Absolute Vanilla (and Atyllah),
Deepa,
Suzan, and
Zafar,
are you ready?

I'm still around

I haven't been posting much of late, but I'm still around. Will be back soon :-)

Rainy evening

When I went to attend a meeting of media women in Bangalore's Press Club, I didn't think that I'd see scenes which may have inspired old Indian miniature paintings or William Morriss' foliage designs.

As expected, the journalists discussed their writings on developmental issues, new publications, a member's trip abroad and other sensible talk. Outside the conference room, dark clouds weighed down upon the trees of Cubbon Park. The trees looked menacing, with almost black limbs raised up to challenge the impending rain. Or perhaps they celebrated, their glossy leaves waving in the chill evening breeze. In that dark, wild greenery, a shock of pink bougainvillea defied the impending downpour.
Rain flooded the pathways, swirling around parked cars and blurring the trees in a veil of mist.

The rain was expected, yet not the natural scene in the heart of this big city.

Independence Day 1999, looking back

As the nation gears up to celebrate it's sixtieth birthday, I wonder what my fellow Indians are really thinking. Are they too preoccupied with the drudgery and desires of daily living? Or are there the dreamers and thinkers who try to rise above this? I had written the piece below in 1999. It was exhilarating to disocover so much thoughtfulness in the playful boys and girls next door.


OH! TO BE YOUNG AND FREE (published in Times of India, Aug 15,1999)

The future of free India holds many promises. Acknowledging substantial progress in technology and the standard of living, young Bangaloreans are concerned about patriotism's new avatar in the current commercialized and westernized atmosphere. Corruption in modern public life, direct external threats to our security, and the invasion by foreign industry and culture, emerge as major areas of concern.

The transformation of the world into a global village has surely broadened our outlook. Freedom for Sanjukta Haside, 14 yrs, Std.X, Innisfree House School, is expanding her horizons far wider than earlier generations. Elders are becoming more broad minded, and offering more freedom to youngsters, she feels.

Our own heritage seems to recede into the background. Preserving our culture and integrity is a motivating force for the young. Earlier generations had lived through the freedom struggle. But for today's youngsters, "it's something remote" as Deepak P. 15 yrs, Std XI, National Public School, notes. "Freedom is definitely important. Especially because of the present threats to our country, we must maintain our integrity and culture."

Is hyped up patriotic fervour replacing the sincerity of earlier generations? Piyali Chakravarty, 18 years and doing C.A. articleship, feels that " we too are sincere, but there's a lot of commercialism, as in the response to the Kargil war. Now, the media is playing a bigger role and hyping up patriotism. Western cultural influences are increasing. It can affect your patriotism. How you deal with it depends upon your values and upbringing."

Today's fun loving youngsters are aware of their duties and responsibilities. Ranjit Kumar, 22 years, software professional, feels that "freedom is important, but so is control and discipline. Some rules pertaining to conduct within the family, society, and the country, are important. As the son of a serving Air Force officer, my upbringing means a lot to me. Patriotism is ingrained in my blood. At home, we frequently discuss about war and related matters. Maybe I am not contributing at the moment, but the desire and motivation to do something for my country is there."

The gap between the promise of 1947, and the disappointments of 1999, is keenly felt. Youngsters like Dr. Ahmed Hussain, 24 years, and doctor, are concerned and wish to improve the situation. "Our grandparents were very optimistic about the future of India as a free country. I'm sure we have achieved a lot, but that innate pride and patriotism is sometimes missing in us. There's a lot of superficial hype, but are we truly convinced of our patriotism? In the past, educated people entered politics and inspired confidence. Now, it's the domain of criminals and ruffians. Moneyed people with manipulative ability are accepted and respected. Seeing recent political and social trends, and given the disappointment, I am tempted to wonder how things could have been better. But in spite of the disappointments, I feel there's light at the end of the tunnel."

After half a century of freedom, why are we still lagging behind? Mudit Agarwal, 25 years, software professional, feels bad that "Indian enterprise is being sidelined while MNCs are capturing the market. I am worried that foreign money may control us some years down the line. Indian experts are developing advanced technologies outside India. What prevents them from achieving their potential here? What is causing the brain drain? Overpopulation and illiteracy are our biggest problems, which must be overcome."

Proud to be born in free India, our young friends are asking many questions. Perhaps their intelligent, inquisitive, and sincere minds will come up with solutions for a better tomorrow. Meanwhile, it's fun to be young and free. Some glamorous gals and cool dudes are busy organizing a fun 'n fashion extravaganza to celebrate Independence Day in their friendly neighbourhood. They haven't a moment to spare to offer their comments. Another public holiday means freedom to freak out on another jamboree. Yippee!

drive to freedom, or be driven?

Ads on TV and gigantic roadside hoardings clamour for attention. Milling crowds, human beings losing their unique identities as they rush to chase money. They say one needs drive and ambition to get ahead. In the scramble to reach that elusive place where you can get even more and even better, do we in fact lose our true selves?

On rare moments, work can combine with true inner satisfaction. I got such a chance when an editor asked me to interview some young professionals who volunteer for social causes. This was for the India's sixtieth Independence Day special feature, and while interacting with my interviewees, I realized the true import of independence.

I listened to highly educated young people who have worked and studied abroad. They've been exposed to the best the world has to offer, and they're now quietly at work. They aren't talkers, but real doers who work for the betterment of the world without even thinking that they're doing anything special.

I saw the will, the caring heart that wants to give;
"I wanted to help, to give back what I have received from my country and society," said Vikas.
"I want to see a developed India right now," said Vijay. "I want to encourage others and speed up the process in my own small way."

I saw the clear thinking which can lead to progress and growth:
" With a systematic approach," said Vikram, "we can see better and more effective results."

The clear thinking that urges these altruistic young people to "be comfortalbe with who I am." The willpower and strong character that makes Nanditha say,"I don't understand why we look for excuses to chase money. We don't need to blindly follow others. I want to stick to my roots and think for myself."

And oh yes, that saving grace of modesty was there too. "Why do you want my picture?" Anitha asked. "I'm such an ordinary person doing my small bit."

Through their eyes, I saw a world far removed the rat race of modern life. These youngsters are in it, yet have risen above their fellow mortals rushing to nowhere on their treadmills.

I am getting an idea of what true independence means. It's jsut that I can't find words to describe it.

swinging into the sixties

Life begins at 60 for veteran journalist and author Kalpana Sharma. A widely respected senior journalist with The Hindu, Kalpana's column on gender issues has a nationwide fan following. Kalpana is looking forward to a life of new freedom as she retires as the Mumbai bureau chief of The Hindu at the end of
May.

This fiesty lady, who looks not a day over forty says," I'm not retiring from journalism. I'll always remain a
journalist. And am looking forward to starting my career as an independent
journalist."

She shared her thoughts in a friendly get-together with twenty of us Network of Women in Media Bangalore members on
Tuesday, May 22, at a cozy little cafe. "Being sixty is a landmark but also just another year
in the life of a journalist who can't stop being one!" she told us amid rounds of applause.


It was a cozy and cheerful affair, the gang of ladies wishing Kalpana a happy birthday and a long innings ahead.

We had a lot to learn as we listened to Kalpana's recollections of a 34-year-old
career that began at 'Himmat' That small but respected magazine stood up to the Emergency of the Seventies and press censorship. And in those dark days of modern Indian history, even major, "mainstream" newspapers
bent before the powers that be.

"We experienced first hand the pressures and pulls
of State oppression," she reminisced.

Kalpana is a born mentor, and she aims to have more time to spare for budding scribes in the days ahead. "When we
started out at Himmat, our seniors took time out to train us," she said,
She also plans to update her book on Dharavi and quite naturally has more
book ideas in the pipeline. Interestingly, she also wants to catch up with the people about whom she wrote in her famous 'Gender Perspective'column, and follow up the case studies.

Best of all, this eminent journalist is a well-rounded personality with a cheery smile and a hearty laugh. Age can never wither this evergreen lady. She's off on a lecture tour in berkley before returning to
Mumbai.

"Now skepticism is reducing," Kalpana said. She feels that routine news reports are becoming more common these days. People don't always stop to ask deeper questions. She encourages young journalists to probe further, do full justice to the subject and refrain from sensational reporting. "Even the camera can be manipulated...sensational old footage can be shown." She is totally against "opinion being manufactured."

Things like SMS polls, so popular with the media today, gives the opinons of a small, unrepresentative section of society, she feels.

We celebrate this lady's 'coming of age' as an independent journalist. While infusing her circle with life and verve, may she continue to keep an eagle eye on the media and see that it fulfils its role as watchdog.

returning to an old friend

Some books form a personal connection with me. One of these is Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude. I picked up my copy after several years and remembered my dear friend Maria from Spain, who had sung praises of this bible for Spanish readers. The dog-eared bookmark with Maria's fading handwriting, exchanging personal impressions as we discussed my progress through the book, the soft focus sepia tinted memories returned.

"Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice." Thus begins One Hundred Years of Solitude, from a terrifying point in the distant future, where the firing squad is preparing to shoot to kill. Dream and memory whirl into a heady mix to draw the reader into a narrative where time moves in many directions at once. This matter of fact yet incredibly farfetched note typifies the essence of Magic Realism.

I entered Macondo again. Staying awake till the early hours, I joined the villagers of Macondo as an insomnia epidemic threatened to erase all layers of culture and identity. I witnessed "the precise moment when Aureliano Babilonia would finish deciphering the parchments, and that everything written on them was unrepeatable since time immemorial and forevermore, because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth."



One of the world’s most famous modern-day classics, One Hundred Years of Solitude encompasses in its epic sweep the history of the Buendia family. A mix of the political, emotional and magical, this novel is among the best known and most popular novels in the tradition of Magic Realism. This novel has been translated into many languages including English, and has sold over 30 million copies worldwide. It portrays the history of Macondo on a larger-than-life level, tracing events from its mythic foundation to its final disappearance. A middle-class family chronicle set against the backdrop of Latin American history, this novel tests the boundaries of narrative fiction. Garcia Marquez once said that he seeks to bring out “the magic in commonplace events.” The events in the novel may seem fantastic, but much of it has a solid grounding in reality. The massacre of hundreds of banana plantation workers in the novel is based upon an actual strike by workers against the United Fruit Company in 1928.

pearls in writers' groups

My writer friend Behlor Santi says, "I returned to my old stomping grounds...There's a lot more coffeeshops and bars and boutiques there. There's plenty for the tourists. Yet I felt that I'm returned to the same bullshit,...looking the exact same way they did in 2002. Back then, I was in a more fragile emotional state, and I yearned for these hipsters' approval. Not, I laugh at them. I notice how pathetically they lie, how cheesy and classless they are. ...To artists everywhere else--I ask you this: do you feel alone in a sea of poseurs? Or have you found solidarity with fellow artists who create the real deal?"


Yes, I also feel alone in a sea of poseurs sometimes. And then I see that I, too, am a poseur, pretending not to care about so many things like rejection slips, comments in shrill voices punctuated with raised eyebrows like "Oh, so YOU wrote that article in yesterday's paper? I read the one next to it and it was really interesting. But yours, ..." Or, "You sure do have a lot of idle time on your hands."

And I pretend not to care when someone welcomes me in a new on-line writer's group and the thread is immediately hijacked to a completely unconnected topic. (That's happened to me thrice)

But then I do find solidarity in this sea of, well maybe not poseurs but but people who couldn't give a damn. Because of people like you who drop by at this blog. Because we sift through the sand and eventually do find lovely sea shells and even pearls.

Fooling around

It's April Fool's Day. What better way to celebrate than fool around on my blog? Fooling isn't something to be lightly dismissed. It's serious business, the breeding ground for creative thought. Would Issac Newton have thought of gravity while chopping wood, labouring in the farm or getting traumatised at the dentists? Quite unlikely. If an apple fell on his head while he was washing his car, he would probably have cussed,kicked the apple into the gutter, and gone to put an ice pack on his aching head.

For those professional fools, the clowns, fooling around is serious business. Their comic style varies, from witty, loaded quips to being just plain slapstick silly. There are sad clowns and there are scary clowns just as there are enough people who are afraid to laugh and unwind.

And me? I laugh most to combat stress. When overwhelmed by adversities, I've seen people take a brief, lighthearted break. Laush in privacy at the things and situations that seem msot daunting, and you've made them surmoutnable and won half the battle. A hearty laugh helps put things in perspective before getting down to business again.

Not yet dead

'Lost for words, blog craze dying' cried out the headline inside today's Times of India. An estimated 200 million (whoa!) blogs have been started and then abandoned, creating the internet's fastest growing graveyard. Millions of bloggers have nothing left to say.

But hey, I'm not yet dead. If I've been away for a few weeks, its not because of lack of ideas. Sometimes life overwhelms us. Running around in circles to untangle growing messes has left me little time to express myself here.

I'm still full of ideas as is the serious blogging world. Bloggers can and do continue to make a difference. Do check out the Wandering Author's blog. His latest post is a call to help children who cannot speak. And he offers an innovative and interesting way to raise funds to help victims of apraxia, which deprives sufferers of the ability to speak.

And that's the best way to lift yourself out of self pity and self-indulgence. Get out there and lend a helping hand.

Bitter or Timid?

It's uncanny how heartfelt words from a great writer can guide one's thoughts away from musty, cobweb-infested niches toward fresh air and clear skies.

Some years ago, Salman Rushdie's detractors set a price upon his head and forced him into hiding. In continuing to write, Rushdie has overcome "two traps set by the fatwa: writing timid novels and writing bitter ones." He says, “If somebody's trying to shut you up, sing louder and, if possible, better. My experience just made me all the more determined to write the very best books I could find it in myself to write." Rushdie continues to strive for greater literary heights, and he draws us into his world of consummate artistry.

Few can hope to match Rushdie's intellect and talent. But we too can try to face setbacks and overcome them. When a nameless little stream is stopped by a row of boulders, it can sink into a stagnant pool and let slime and insects breed in its once clear water. Or it can gush over the barrier and flow on, bubbling over and singing its cheerful song on the way.