So I was tagged by Burf. I had to ask Rohit and Richa what tagging was to understand the whole concept. Once I understood, I figured it was going to be great fun. So here I am...tagged. Burf, I did not do the post you wanted me to (sorry dude) but picked another tag from your blog. And added more to it from one of Richa's earlier tags. It's a long list here...but one that was great fun to do. And people, pick your favorite 10-20-30 points and answer. Would love to read them.
• My Accent: Regular Indian I guess
• Booze: Let’s see...Bloody Mary, Rum and Coke, Chilled Beer provided it’s Sandpiper’s
• Chore I Hate: Washing clothes
• Dog or Cat: Dog, I hate cats
• Essential Electronics: PC
• Perfume: Anything lemony
• Gold or Silver: SILVER
• Home: Delhi
• Insomnia: Often enough
• Job Title: Editor
• Living Arrangements: Currently with folks
• Most Admirable Traits: Not sure...Enthusiasm? Responsibility?
• Number of times in hospital: None
• Phobias: Slightly claustrophobic
• Quote: I will cross the bridge when I come to it
• Religion: Sayantanism...love the people who matter, be regular with the rest of the world, annihilate the ones you hate. Simple.
• Siblings: One...feels like hundred.
• Time I Wake Up: 6:30 am on weekdays, weekends...depends
• Unusual Talent or Skill: I remember almost every ghost story I have ever read
• Vegetable I Love: Spinach (but it has to be cooked to my specifications)
• Worst Habit: I avoid getting my eyebrows done till the last minute
• X-Rays, Last time: Nope...never.
• Yummy Food I Make: Bhindi
• Zodiac Sign: Cancer
• Smoked a cigarette: Yes
• Been in love: Yessss!
• Been dumped: Yes
• Shoplifted: Yes, my friend Abhay and I once shoplifted saunf! :D
• Been fired: Nope
• Snucked out of parent's house: Yes
• Been arrested: NO
• Gone on a blind date: Yes.
• Lied to a friend: Hmm...yes.
• Bunked school: Yes
• Seen someone die: No, thank god, no.
• Had a crush on an Internet friend: Yes
• Met someone in person from the Internet: Yes
• Flown a kite: No, never thought they were exciting
• Built a sand castle: Yes
• Cheated while playing a game: Yes, all the time…I just have to win
• Been lonely: Yes
• Fallen asleep at work or school/college: Yes, specially in seminars.
• Used a fake id: No, but an expired one yes.
• Watched a sun set: Often
• Felt an earthquake: Yeah! I ran.
• Touched a snake: Yes, not out of choice, circumstances were such that I was forced to.
• Slept beneath the stars: Yes
• Been robbed: Yes. Grrrrrrrrr.
• Been misunderstood: Sometimes
• Won a contest: Yes
• Been suspended from school: No, but almost got suspended in Stephen’s once.
• Been in a car accident: No, thankfully.
• Eaten a whole pint of ice cream in one night: Yup! After a bad break up.
• Danced in the moonlight: No, but done other memorable things yes.
• Witnessed a crime: No
• Been obsessed with post-it notes: Huh? I use a lot of them in the course of work because they are excellent for marking pages, but obsessed? Of course not.
• Squished barefoot through mud: Oh yeah :)
• Been lost: Yeah. But have always found my way too.
• Swam in the ocean: Kinda...for the love of the then crush. Would I do it any differently today? Naah!
• Cried yourself to sleep: Yes
• Recently colored with crayons: Made a pencil shaded thing for my brother recently...does that count?
• Paid for a meal with only coins: Yes…because I wanted to give the rude waiter a hard time...so spread the coins as much as I could.
• Made prank phone calls: Not directly, orchestrated and directed them yes.
• Caught a snow flake on my tongue: No, but I eat ice throughout the day during summers...does that count?
• Been kissed under the mistletoe by your boy/girlfriend: Not under the mistletoe!
• Watched the sun rise with someone you care about: Yes
• Blown bubbles: Yesss
• Bonfire on the beach: Not on a beach
• Cheated in a test: Yes
• Been kissed by someone you didn't like: What kinda kiss we talking here?
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Lucknow... In Pictures
Since I didn't have anyone with me in Lucknow, taking photographs meant pointing and clicking at anything that looked photogenic to me. Now while I like to think that I know a good photograph when I see it -- since I have had the privilege of working closely with some very good photographers for professional reasons -- I am also down-to-earth enough to understand that there are a million things that go into making the right photograph. And I am far from getting this art right. Anyhow, so I did click, and am posting a few here. For the rest, please click here.
This is the Hall of Chandeliers, inside the Chhota Imambara. There might be a better, grander name for this, but well, it was a hall, and of chandeliers at that. So...
Tunde Kababs
Nazirabad
One of the tombs of Wajid Ali Shah's descendants, this is currently under renovation.
Prakash's Kulfis
This is the Hall of Chandeliers, inside the Chhota Imambara. There might be a better, grander name for this, but well, it was a hall, and of chandeliers at that. So...
Tunde Kababs
Nazirabad
One of the tombs of Wajid Ali Shah's descendants, this is currently under renovation.
Prakash's Kulfis
Monday, June 19, 2006
Now Lucknow
When I learnt that an assignment was going to take me to Lucknow, I was excited to say the least. Being a student of medieval history, Lucknow had featured in my academic life often enough. Additionally, she had served as the backdrop of several favorite movies, notably Junoon (based on Ruskin Bond’s A Flight of Pigeons) and Shatranj ke Khiladi.
I was going for barely a day or so, so the first thing I did was write to Mayuri (a fellow Orkutter and a passionate Lucknowite) to ask for all the gyan she could give me on Lucknow. She sent a brilliant mail, and that set the mood further.
Post the excursion, here are some observations:
1. Food is religion, and kababs its elixir.
2. Chaos is a way of life.
3. Lucknowites do not, I repeat, do not cross their roads. They just say a silent prayer, most often not even that, and just plunge themselves in the middle of the road. They are accompanied in this noble adventure by cows and other forms of wildlife, and by all kinds of vehicles.
4. Traffic rules are for the fainthearted and therefore for some other city.
5. Sound pollution is created if you do NOT produce sufficient sound. So blare away my friend, blare away.
6. If you wish to know how to systematically destroy your heritage, come here. A Hutch billboard on top of an 18th century tomb in my mind should entitle the advertiser to at least 7 years’ of rigorous imprisonment.
7. The Lucknow jail is called “Aadarsh Karagar”, translated literally to mean, “The Ideal Prison”. Is it to tell the world that come one, come all, ours is the best jail that could ever be? Therefore show your support, join us in large numbers?
8. The most popular brand of beer is something called “Deep’s fire”. I mean, come on! Why should I or anyone else want to have anything to do with Deep’s fire? He is most welcome to it, surely.
9. The most interesting roadside sign was for a restaurant called “Daal mein Kaala”. Their tagline read “If you do not eat here, we will both starve.” Err…ok.
10. For some strange reason, in the vegetable markets, lemons and cucumbers are arranged in an interesting foursome pattern. Do not ask why.
11. There is something called Chana Chor Garam, and you are supposed to eat it. Relax, it’s a cousin of the humble papad.
12. Be prepared to get royally thugged when you go visiting the monuments. The guides/custodians can make out that you are a tourist, and will not let you go unless you pay big bucks, and quick. Do NOT keep them waiting. It’s not pleasant.
Coming to the trip itself.
I left at the crack of dawn on Wednesday, June 14, to catch my Sahara India flight. Scheduled to leave at 6, it ultimately left at 7:15. Apparently, there was air traffic congestion. Pray enlighten me, I have been told and have braved air traffic congestions even earlier but I still do not get it. How can there be something like congestion in the sky? I mean this is the sky for crying out loud! You know, I really do feel so sorry for pilots. Not only can they never stop and ask a passerby or an overtaking vehicle for directions, they also have to live with the fact that there is congestion when they can so clearly see for thousands of miles around them, not to forget the fact that even the tiniest, inquisitive or perhaps drunk sparrow can hit their “vehicle” and cause mayhem. Anyhow, seeped in such cerebral thoughts, an hour later, I reached Lucknow.
Saving grace of the flight:
1. Sitting next to an intelligent conversationalist. He works with Singapore Airlines in Muscat and was going to Lucknow to meet his wife and two-year old daughter. We talked about Lucknow and Uttar Pradesh, politics and law and order in India, and the current man-of-the-moment Rahul Mahajan. He also gave me some excellent gyan on where to stay and what to do in Lucknow.
2. The realization yet again, as I peered down at the ground below, that each of us is such an insignificant atom at the end of it all. Anyone who has ever felt an iota of “I am God” should take a plane ride, or if time, money and resources do not permit you, then just locate your house and with it your existence on Google Earth. The reality check will do you good.
Landed at Lucknow’s Amausi Airport. Quick question: What does Amausi mean? Got myself a prepaid cab and headed towards the hotel, Gemini Continental. My only instruction to the cabbie was to tell me about each of the roads and buildings that we were passing through. Seeing my enthusiasm, my fifty-year-old, salt and pepper haired driver got so excited that in a while he started pointing out every, and I mean every memorable monument such as “this is where that politician pee-d”, “this is where this IAS officer smiled”. Finally, we reached Gemini, which to be fair, was gorgeous. I do not need fancy hotels per se. But clean sheets and a squeaky clean washroom are a must. Beyond that lack of every other accessory is tolerable. The rooms at Gemini were very nice, neat and clean, rather expensive, but the service left much to be desired. Interestingly, the UP governor seemed to have honored this hotel as the best in Lucknow in 2005. Post a quick shower, and a fresh lime soda, I left for work.
Work went off beautifully. The best part? The people I had to meet were warm, hospitable, yet very very professional. Everything went off beautifully and ended on time. Moreover, one of the gentlemen drew me a map of everything I could fit in that evening in Lucknow. So as soon as work finished, which was about 5, I rushed back to the hotel, freshened up, and went Lucknowing. Half on riskshaw and half on foot. Started from Hazratganj, the commercial hub of the city and where my hotel was located, and reached Nazirabad. Let go off the rickshaw, and went exploring on foot...the best way to see any city after all. The array of things to see and buy was mindboggling. Keeping eyes, ears open to the happenings all around, as well as taking care to ensure that I didn’t step on something I shouldn’t on the road was a tough balancing act indeed. Because suddenly once I reached Aminabad, I discovered what real chaos actually means. Picture a place six times more chaotic than Delhi’s Chandni Chowk and that’s Aminabad for you.
What all did I do in Aminabad? Walked for one, nearly everywhere. Clicked lots of photographs. The sight of a single woman roaming around the streets taking photos is still not that familiar a sight, but what the hell, I wasn’t coming to Lucknow every day. Then I made my first purchase, a bottle of intoxicating ittar. And then some local saunf, and a packet of chana chor garam for home.
It was finally time...for the famous Tunde kababs. Legend has it that a rich Lucknowi nobleman once lost all his teeth, yet couldn’t give up his love for kababs. So he ordered his master chef to whip up a kabab that he could eat without missing his teeth, meaning, the kabab had to just melt in his mouth. So successful was the experiment that the recipe lived on, and I went to savor it at the city’s most famous joint, predictably called Tunde Kabab. The establishment is spread over a couple of floors, and at the entrance I was asked by several waiters/assistant chefs what all I wanted to get packed, the norm therefore being that when a woman comes all by herself to that predominantly male joint, she gets the food packed for home. My answer, “yahin pe khana hain” attracted stares. I proceeded to find a seat for myself in that jam-packed hall, and ordered a plate of Tundes (is that appropriate usage?) and Mughlai parantha, after consulting the waiter. Food arrived, I started eating, more or less unmindful of the pairs of eyes still on me. A few lecherous, mostly curious, and some disapproving. Once the Tundes finished, I happened to notice that the restaurant served beef kababs as well. So it was time to try some of them. Partly because I was still a wee bit hungry and partly because I had never had beef and was very keen to figure out how it tasted. So beef kababs arrived. Slightly charcoalish, very spicy and tender, but heavy…these were excellent. (I have finally forgiven cows for not being able to kiss.) Predictably enough, after one kabab I was full, but couldn’t leave them behind. Then again, you are not supposed to bring in outside food inside hotels. But I was damned if I was going to leave such succulent kababs behind. So got them packed with my usual mindset intact, “I will cross the bridge when I come to it”.
Post the kababs and some more meandering, it was time for kulfis. Apparently, the city’s best kulfi shop is Prakash’s. And you get only one kind of kulfi there but if you don’t eat that, you just ought not live anymore. So kulfi it was. Icy cold, a nice sunshine yellow color, with falooda on top, and better than most icecreams in most fancy places. Well-fed and satiated, and also unwilling to take the risk of getting lost in an unfamiliar city I headed back to the hotel. Before entering the foyer, sprinkled a few drops of my latest ittar on my bag. Thus camouflaged the kababs entered the hotel, and were consumed the next morning, post a long walk.
Next morning saw me get up relatively bright and early. Tied up the work I had to do that day and then stepped out. Again the same format of rickshaw and my legs. Went to the tombs of the descendants of Wajid Ali Shah (the last nawab of Lucknow), barely managed to not get fleeced by gluttonous caretakers. Then rushed to the Chhota Imambara, I wasn’t going to have time for any other monument, and so it was imperative for me to spend some time over here.
The Chhota Imambara is quite well maintained. A wide path leads to the main building itself. The main hall houses a huge, interesting and colorful collection of fine chandeliers. Inside the other, smaller hall are some artifacts and a place of worship, and you cannot take pictures here. Whoever takes you around the Imambara will expect a hefty fee so be warned. All in all, do visit it, but remember to haggle.
That was all the sightseeing I could manage on the 15th. Once work finished for the day, I rushed to catch my plane. The food this time was excellent, the only problem were my co-passengers, who were a four-year-old girl who had questions every 9 seconds, and her beyond belief boring father who gave the most uninspiring and unimaginative answers. (Humble request to all those of you who might end up being a parent either now or in the future: If you ever have a child who is badly brought up and has a squeaky, high-pitched voice, your child is not welcome in my house.) By the 29th minute of the flight, the girl couldn’t hear well any more because of the pressure build up in the plane. Her father advised her, “Beta! Tiger ki tarah growl karo sab theek ho jayega.” Why? Tigers take the plane all the time is it when they are visiting their cousins in the Sunderbans and Sariska? And more than that, they have confided this to him is it? So daughter started growling, and since daddyji had to give company, he pitched in as well. Father and daughter growled for about 3 minutes or so, till the time, I tore my eyes from the window, and turned to face both of them. Obviously, my eyes had so much growling love in them, both of them stopped immediately. They could probably foresee me opening the window and tossing them to the ground millions of miles below us.
On that cheerful and optimistic note, ended my Lucknow trip, and I left for Chandigarh the next morning...again on work.
I was going for barely a day or so, so the first thing I did was write to Mayuri (a fellow Orkutter and a passionate Lucknowite) to ask for all the gyan she could give me on Lucknow. She sent a brilliant mail, and that set the mood further.
Post the excursion, here are some observations:
1. Food is religion, and kababs its elixir.
2. Chaos is a way of life.
3. Lucknowites do not, I repeat, do not cross their roads. They just say a silent prayer, most often not even that, and just plunge themselves in the middle of the road. They are accompanied in this noble adventure by cows and other forms of wildlife, and by all kinds of vehicles.
4. Traffic rules are for the fainthearted and therefore for some other city.
5. Sound pollution is created if you do NOT produce sufficient sound. So blare away my friend, blare away.
6. If you wish to know how to systematically destroy your heritage, come here. A Hutch billboard on top of an 18th century tomb in my mind should entitle the advertiser to at least 7 years’ of rigorous imprisonment.
7. The Lucknow jail is called “Aadarsh Karagar”, translated literally to mean, “The Ideal Prison”. Is it to tell the world that come one, come all, ours is the best jail that could ever be? Therefore show your support, join us in large numbers?
8. The most popular brand of beer is something called “Deep’s fire”. I mean, come on! Why should I or anyone else want to have anything to do with Deep’s fire? He is most welcome to it, surely.
9. The most interesting roadside sign was for a restaurant called “Daal mein Kaala”. Their tagline read “If you do not eat here, we will both starve.” Err…ok.
10. For some strange reason, in the vegetable markets, lemons and cucumbers are arranged in an interesting foursome pattern. Do not ask why.
11. There is something called Chana Chor Garam, and you are supposed to eat it. Relax, it’s a cousin of the humble papad.
12. Be prepared to get royally thugged when you go visiting the monuments. The guides/custodians can make out that you are a tourist, and will not let you go unless you pay big bucks, and quick. Do NOT keep them waiting. It’s not pleasant.
Coming to the trip itself.
I left at the crack of dawn on Wednesday, June 14, to catch my Sahara India flight. Scheduled to leave at 6, it ultimately left at 7:15. Apparently, there was air traffic congestion. Pray enlighten me, I have been told and have braved air traffic congestions even earlier but I still do not get it. How can there be something like congestion in the sky? I mean this is the sky for crying out loud! You know, I really do feel so sorry for pilots. Not only can they never stop and ask a passerby or an overtaking vehicle for directions, they also have to live with the fact that there is congestion when they can so clearly see for thousands of miles around them, not to forget the fact that even the tiniest, inquisitive or perhaps drunk sparrow can hit their “vehicle” and cause mayhem. Anyhow, seeped in such cerebral thoughts, an hour later, I reached Lucknow.
Saving grace of the flight:
1. Sitting next to an intelligent conversationalist. He works with Singapore Airlines in Muscat and was going to Lucknow to meet his wife and two-year old daughter. We talked about Lucknow and Uttar Pradesh, politics and law and order in India, and the current man-of-the-moment Rahul Mahajan. He also gave me some excellent gyan on where to stay and what to do in Lucknow.
2. The realization yet again, as I peered down at the ground below, that each of us is such an insignificant atom at the end of it all. Anyone who has ever felt an iota of “I am God” should take a plane ride, or if time, money and resources do not permit you, then just locate your house and with it your existence on Google Earth. The reality check will do you good.
Landed at Lucknow’s Amausi Airport. Quick question: What does Amausi mean? Got myself a prepaid cab and headed towards the hotel, Gemini Continental. My only instruction to the cabbie was to tell me about each of the roads and buildings that we were passing through. Seeing my enthusiasm, my fifty-year-old, salt and pepper haired driver got so excited that in a while he started pointing out every, and I mean every memorable monument such as “this is where that politician pee-d”, “this is where this IAS officer smiled”. Finally, we reached Gemini, which to be fair, was gorgeous. I do not need fancy hotels per se. But clean sheets and a squeaky clean washroom are a must. Beyond that lack of every other accessory is tolerable. The rooms at Gemini were very nice, neat and clean, rather expensive, but the service left much to be desired. Interestingly, the UP governor seemed to have honored this hotel as the best in Lucknow in 2005. Post a quick shower, and a fresh lime soda, I left for work.
Work went off beautifully. The best part? The people I had to meet were warm, hospitable, yet very very professional. Everything went off beautifully and ended on time. Moreover, one of the gentlemen drew me a map of everything I could fit in that evening in Lucknow. So as soon as work finished, which was about 5, I rushed back to the hotel, freshened up, and went Lucknowing. Half on riskshaw and half on foot. Started from Hazratganj, the commercial hub of the city and where my hotel was located, and reached Nazirabad. Let go off the rickshaw, and went exploring on foot...the best way to see any city after all. The array of things to see and buy was mindboggling. Keeping eyes, ears open to the happenings all around, as well as taking care to ensure that I didn’t step on something I shouldn’t on the road was a tough balancing act indeed. Because suddenly once I reached Aminabad, I discovered what real chaos actually means. Picture a place six times more chaotic than Delhi’s Chandni Chowk and that’s Aminabad for you.
What all did I do in Aminabad? Walked for one, nearly everywhere. Clicked lots of photographs. The sight of a single woman roaming around the streets taking photos is still not that familiar a sight, but what the hell, I wasn’t coming to Lucknow every day. Then I made my first purchase, a bottle of intoxicating ittar. And then some local saunf, and a packet of chana chor garam for home.
It was finally time...for the famous Tunde kababs. Legend has it that a rich Lucknowi nobleman once lost all his teeth, yet couldn’t give up his love for kababs. So he ordered his master chef to whip up a kabab that he could eat without missing his teeth, meaning, the kabab had to just melt in his mouth. So successful was the experiment that the recipe lived on, and I went to savor it at the city’s most famous joint, predictably called Tunde Kabab. The establishment is spread over a couple of floors, and at the entrance I was asked by several waiters/assistant chefs what all I wanted to get packed, the norm therefore being that when a woman comes all by herself to that predominantly male joint, she gets the food packed for home. My answer, “yahin pe khana hain” attracted stares. I proceeded to find a seat for myself in that jam-packed hall, and ordered a plate of Tundes (is that appropriate usage?) and Mughlai parantha, after consulting the waiter. Food arrived, I started eating, more or less unmindful of the pairs of eyes still on me. A few lecherous, mostly curious, and some disapproving. Once the Tundes finished, I happened to notice that the restaurant served beef kababs as well. So it was time to try some of them. Partly because I was still a wee bit hungry and partly because I had never had beef and was very keen to figure out how it tasted. So beef kababs arrived. Slightly charcoalish, very spicy and tender, but heavy…these were excellent. (I have finally forgiven cows for not being able to kiss.) Predictably enough, after one kabab I was full, but couldn’t leave them behind. Then again, you are not supposed to bring in outside food inside hotels. But I was damned if I was going to leave such succulent kababs behind. So got them packed with my usual mindset intact, “I will cross the bridge when I come to it”.
Post the kababs and some more meandering, it was time for kulfis. Apparently, the city’s best kulfi shop is Prakash’s. And you get only one kind of kulfi there but if you don’t eat that, you just ought not live anymore. So kulfi it was. Icy cold, a nice sunshine yellow color, with falooda on top, and better than most icecreams in most fancy places. Well-fed and satiated, and also unwilling to take the risk of getting lost in an unfamiliar city I headed back to the hotel. Before entering the foyer, sprinkled a few drops of my latest ittar on my bag. Thus camouflaged the kababs entered the hotel, and were consumed the next morning, post a long walk.
Next morning saw me get up relatively bright and early. Tied up the work I had to do that day and then stepped out. Again the same format of rickshaw and my legs. Went to the tombs of the descendants of Wajid Ali Shah (the last nawab of Lucknow), barely managed to not get fleeced by gluttonous caretakers. Then rushed to the Chhota Imambara, I wasn’t going to have time for any other monument, and so it was imperative for me to spend some time over here.
The Chhota Imambara is quite well maintained. A wide path leads to the main building itself. The main hall houses a huge, interesting and colorful collection of fine chandeliers. Inside the other, smaller hall are some artifacts and a place of worship, and you cannot take pictures here. Whoever takes you around the Imambara will expect a hefty fee so be warned. All in all, do visit it, but remember to haggle.
That was all the sightseeing I could manage on the 15th. Once work finished for the day, I rushed to catch my plane. The food this time was excellent, the only problem were my co-passengers, who were a four-year-old girl who had questions every 9 seconds, and her beyond belief boring father who gave the most uninspiring and unimaginative answers. (Humble request to all those of you who might end up being a parent either now or in the future: If you ever have a child who is badly brought up and has a squeaky, high-pitched voice, your child is not welcome in my house.) By the 29th minute of the flight, the girl couldn’t hear well any more because of the pressure build up in the plane. Her father advised her, “Beta! Tiger ki tarah growl karo sab theek ho jayega.” Why? Tigers take the plane all the time is it when they are visiting their cousins in the Sunderbans and Sariska? And more than that, they have confided this to him is it? So daughter started growling, and since daddyji had to give company, he pitched in as well. Father and daughter growled for about 3 minutes or so, till the time, I tore my eyes from the window, and turned to face both of them. Obviously, my eyes had so much growling love in them, both of them stopped immediately. They could probably foresee me opening the window and tossing them to the ground millions of miles below us.
On that cheerful and optimistic note, ended my Lucknow trip, and I left for Chandigarh the next morning...again on work.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
A Matter of Choice
A chance remark by my colleague, “If you think I am funny, you should meet some of the people I think are hilarious,” got me to counter it with, “No. Wit, humor, fun are all very subjective. What might be hilarious to you, might be completely dull, dreary and boring to me!” He agreed, and the exchange stayed in my head. Choices and subjectivity. The result? This post, and through it the narration of what I think is an example to explain my stand, and at the same time, put in words, one of the toughest professional decisions I have ever had to take.
The incident took place a couple of years ago, when I was working at yet another publishing house. There we used to receive an average of ten manuscripts everyday and it was up to the editors, of course, to go through them and decide the publish-ability of each one. Sometimes it took weeks, even months before we could lay our hands on something that was truly fabulous. Very often the stuff we picked was marketable and therefore publish-able, but that’s about it. There was no permanent shelf-life in them. I personally itched to discover that one book that would change the course of my publishing career. To be fair, I did several good books, and through them found some wonderful authors, many of whom are now friends.
The manuscript I have been thinking about today was sent by an American professor. He had been scouting for an Indian publisher because his book was partly set in India, and partly in the US. It was the story of an American college teacher who falls in love with his student. She is an Indian, in fact from Nagaland, and is the daughter of an erstwhile tribal chief. The teacher is happily married, but love, or perhaps it was merely passion and lust, are a deadly temptation any day, and so he succumbs to the charms of his student. They then come to India, partly for his own academic research, and partly to see her country, but fall prey to a host of dangerous circumstances. The situation back home isn’t any better, because his loving wife has discovered his infidelity, and her life takes on a new course as well.
The plot, the words, the characters, the deftly woven in situations…they all had me hooked. I was convinced that we had a bestseller in hand. The manuscript was sent for two further rounds of evaluation. One thumbed it down, the other praised it to the stars. I was thrilled, it was the word of two against one, ‘my’ manuscript was going to be published. Finally the marketing team was asked for its opinion, and it said a flat ‘no’. The reason? In a country of a billion people, where a tiny percentage of the population knows English well enough to read it, almost next to none would pick a book set in Nagaland. If it were based in any of the metropolitan cities, or perhaps in somewhere exotic and tourist friendly in an obvious sort of way such as Rajasthan or Kerala, the book would sell. But Nagaland? No. Unfortunate but that’s how it is. At the end of the day, it’s a reader choice.
The point I am trying to make here is that saying ‘no’ to the manuscript was tough enough, but being made to realize that a well-written book will not sell simply because out of choice, an average reader would rather read anything based in a Punjab or a Kerala or Delhi was worse. But true. How many of us are even aware of the fact that there are seven states (away from the mainland so to speak) that deserve as much attention and pampering as the bigger, more prosperous states? Think about it.
The incident took place a couple of years ago, when I was working at yet another publishing house. There we used to receive an average of ten manuscripts everyday and it was up to the editors, of course, to go through them and decide the publish-ability of each one. Sometimes it took weeks, even months before we could lay our hands on something that was truly fabulous. Very often the stuff we picked was marketable and therefore publish-able, but that’s about it. There was no permanent shelf-life in them. I personally itched to discover that one book that would change the course of my publishing career. To be fair, I did several good books, and through them found some wonderful authors, many of whom are now friends.
The manuscript I have been thinking about today was sent by an American professor. He had been scouting for an Indian publisher because his book was partly set in India, and partly in the US. It was the story of an American college teacher who falls in love with his student. She is an Indian, in fact from Nagaland, and is the daughter of an erstwhile tribal chief. The teacher is happily married, but love, or perhaps it was merely passion and lust, are a deadly temptation any day, and so he succumbs to the charms of his student. They then come to India, partly for his own academic research, and partly to see her country, but fall prey to a host of dangerous circumstances. The situation back home isn’t any better, because his loving wife has discovered his infidelity, and her life takes on a new course as well.
The plot, the words, the characters, the deftly woven in situations…they all had me hooked. I was convinced that we had a bestseller in hand. The manuscript was sent for two further rounds of evaluation. One thumbed it down, the other praised it to the stars. I was thrilled, it was the word of two against one, ‘my’ manuscript was going to be published. Finally the marketing team was asked for its opinion, and it said a flat ‘no’. The reason? In a country of a billion people, where a tiny percentage of the population knows English well enough to read it, almost next to none would pick a book set in Nagaland. If it were based in any of the metropolitan cities, or perhaps in somewhere exotic and tourist friendly in an obvious sort of way such as Rajasthan or Kerala, the book would sell. But Nagaland? No. Unfortunate but that’s how it is. At the end of the day, it’s a reader choice.
The point I am trying to make here is that saying ‘no’ to the manuscript was tough enough, but being made to realize that a well-written book will not sell simply because out of choice, an average reader would rather read anything based in a Punjab or a Kerala or Delhi was worse. But true. How many of us are even aware of the fact that there are seven states (away from the mainland so to speak) that deserve as much attention and pampering as the bigger, more prosperous states? Think about it.
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