MY JOURNEY INTO THE WORLD OF WRITING - V

What next?

Whatever it is, there is no looking back, there is no turning back.

To be mentally saddled with a single genre is against my nature and is anathema to me. Even as I was into my first venture, “Dance of Life”, ideas for many novels started germinating in my mind. As is my wont, I opened several document files, either with the first ideas translated into words or with just the titles, tentative in most cases (read my blog post MY JOURNEY INTO THE WORLD OF WRITING - IV).

My experiences with my first book instilled in me huge confidence in my ability, especially after getting the feedback from my guardian angel. (“Dance of Life” is her favourite among all my novels, she says). I had it in me. With the newfound self-belief and self-confidence, I set out towards my second novel.

I gained confidence that I, too, could write – effectively, coherently, and meaningfully – without giving in to the hype that is so prevalent these days all around us in newspapers, TV, movies, books, society, in every walk of life.

I also decided that I just could not “stick” to one single genre. This guided me to a new topic, a new genre for my second novel – a kidnap drama.

I christened it simply “THE KIDNAP”.

Would you be surprised if I said that I resumed my “novel” journey based on three factors, the general topic, the first scene, and the last action scene? Since criminal investigation in our country is the responsibility of, and only of, the police departments of various state governments and central government (no Private Investigators are permitted on the hallowed ground) the hero had necessarily to be a police officer; in this case, the entire police department of Tamil Nadu.

In one of my earlier blogs, I unashamedly admitted to the influence of Late Alistair MacLean and Late Agatha Christie on my writings and me. That came to the fore in this venture of mine – the descriptive prose, the eye for detail, and the characterisation. The confidence that grew in me manifested itself in the number of pages of the whole narrative – about twenty more than my first venture, “Dance of Life”; not that I willed it and filled it with garbage but that I went into detail as demanded by the storyline.

The narration flowed smoothly; the characters and situations came out as planned. This story proved a wee bit tougher since my knowledge of guns, canine squads, forensic procedures, etc. was limited to what I read in novels and what I saw in movies, especially American movies and TV serials. (Indian movies and TV serials are pathetic even in imitating their Hollywood counterparts and offer nothing to enhance my knowledge). In particular, American TV serials “CSI” (Crime Scene Investigation – all three franchises of it) and “PRACTICE” left an indelible mark on my mind. The knowledge I gained from them helped me in my small research for my work. To say that a great amount of my forensic knowledge is due to my writer-icons Agatha Christie and Alistair MacLean would be no hyperbole.

General information available on the Internet apart, Tamil Nadu Police website was of great help in matters concerning canine sleuths. I added my own intuition and imagination to that in the action scenes.

I dwelt for a while on Tamil Nadu Forensic laboratory (TNFL) an imaginary forensic laboratory of the Tamil Nadu Police department. An ardent fan of CSI, I could never understand the fair-like scene that we witness telecast at every crime scene; not just the investigating police personnel, but ministers, politicians, media personnel, and all and sundry just stomp the crime scene. Don’t the police realise that this causes loss or compromise of evidence? Aren’t there any strict guidelines to be followed by forensic scientists in maintaining the sanctity of the crime scene? I wonder.

This prompted me to “create” a forensic laboratory of international standards to help analyse evidence from crime scenes and apprehend culprits. The narration flowed smoothly and reached “The End”.

That’s it, friends. Meet you in my next blog with some eerie stuff.

Namaskaram!

AJAYA Book I – Roll of the Dice

During my childhood, I used to read one of the greatest of Indian epics, the Mahabharata, in Telugu, as a comic-book in black-on-white (Balala Bommala Bharatamu - బాలల బొమ్మల భారతము). I lost count of how many times I read it, never getting satiated.

There were heroes, there were villains, there were heroines, there were Gods and angels; all characters clearly etched, leaving no room for doubt. The Pandavas were the heroes, despite the subterfuges they indulged in, in the name of dharma. The Kauravas were the villains, despite the noble acts they committed. The heroines were chaste, despite being promiscuous, power-hungry, and polyandrous. No questions asked. No answers given.

Right through my life, from childhood until now, I have been hearing people - erudite savants - categorise the Indian epic, the Mahabharata, as the treatise on politics and power, but I have never looked at it from that angle, having accepted the “uncritical conventional renderings of the epic” handed down from generation to generation.

It is in this back ground and mindset that I read the book “Ajaya Book I – Roll of the Dice” by Mr. Anand Neelakantan.

How do I find it? Simply, brilliant.

The language is flowery, as is befitting the epic that it is. The descriptive prose is meticulous with an uncanny eye for detail. The storytelling is masterly, making the book a compelling page-turner. Well, all this is in the realm of the mundane. Is it controversial? Of course it is. The angle from which he looks at the epic makes it so - from the “villain’s” point of view. “Nothing succeeds like success,” is the adage. It was true in Dur(Su)yodhana’s case. It is true today.

However, the greatest achievement of the author is the demythologising of the characters, the significant incidents, and the story itself. I see that a lot of research has gone into the work. The power play, the caste equations, the class prejudices, the political manoeuvres, the interpretation of raja dharma by various players to suit their needs, have all been brilliantly depicted through the narration, giving the reader a glimpse of the goings-on behind the royal curtains. This has unequivocally exhibited why this great epic is still topical.

One issue that is a little jarring (to me) is the frequent references to India as one united nation during the ancient Mahabharata times; the ancient name of Jambu Dweepa or Bharata Khanda or Bharata Varsha might have been more appropriate. This, along with some modern-day expressions and grammatical errors, mentioning which will be inappropriate in the context of the excellence of the work, are the minor faults I could see.

I congratulate Leadstart Publishing for bringing out this excellent work and the author for creating it.

I wish Mr. Anand Neelakantan would, even if temporarily, loan me his magical literary quill.

MARITAL RAPE

Definition of “rape” in Indian Penal Code:

A man is said to commit "rape" who, except in the case hereinafter excepted, has sexual intercourse with a woman under circumstances falling under any of the six following descriptions:

1. Against her will. 
2. Without her consent. 
3. With her consent, when her consent has been obtained by putting her or any person in whom she is interested in fear of death or of hurt.
4. With her consent, when the man knows that he is not her husband, and that her consent is given because she believes that he is another man to whom she is or believes herself to be lawfully married.
5. With her consent, when, at the time of giving such consent, by reason of unsoundness of mind or intoxication or the administration by him personally or through another of any stupefying or unwholesome substance, she is unable to understand the nature and consequences of that to which she gives consent. 
6. With or without her consent, when she is under sixteen years of age.

• Explanation: Penetration is sufficient to constitute the sexual intercourse necessary to the offence of rape. 
• Exception - Sexual intercourse by a man with his own wife, the wife not being under fifteen years of age, is not rape.]

***

Pay attention to point 6b, which says, “Exception: Sexual intercourse by a man with his own wife, the wife not being under fifteen years of age, is not rape.”

This gives rise to several vital issues:

• It is unconstitutional since it discriminates against a certain “class” of women called “wife”, whereas all are said to be equal in the eyes of our Constitution.
• While a woman is said to be protected from all forms of domestic violence – physical, mental, verbal – she is not, from this form of violence that her husband perpetrates against her! Why? Is this not “violence”? Or, does the husband have some divine right over her body and soul?
• It unequivocally exhibits age-old male arrogance and chauvinism, anachronistic in today’s world, in that it defines the role of woman as the vassal of man.

***

“IF MARITAL RAPE IS BROUGHT UNDER THE LAW, THE ENTIRE FAMILY SYSTEM WILL BE UNDER GREAT STRESS,” ... [REPORT SUBMITTED BY LAWMAKERS TO PARLIAMENT SAID IN 2013.]

This, again, gives rise to several vital issues:

• Is it the sole responsibility of the wife to uphold ‘family honour’?
• Must she surrender herself even to ‘rape’ to avoid “great stress to her family”? While she has protection against ‘domestic violence’, even from her husband, she has none whatsoever if he chooses to ‘rape’ her!

***

From time immemorial, woman has been nothing but the vassal of man. She continues to be so, even in the twenty-first century!

Just imagine what could happen if the definition of rape is to include marital rape. A husband forcing sex on his lawfully wedded wife can be booked for rape! The question that arises is whether it is bad. Is it the duty of a woman to have sex even if she is unwilling, just to avoid “great stress to the family system”? How something that is a crime in the case of other women is not a crime in the case of a wife? Does it not come under domestic violence?

We do not have a Ram Mohan Roy, who emancipated women from the evil of sati. We do not have a Jyotirao Govindrao Phule, who, along with his wife, Savitribai Phule, pioneered women's education. All we have today are male chauvinists, who belong to medieval times, at the helm of organisations and affairs, governing us and making laws that govern us. The appalling disrespect they display even on the hallowed floor of our parliament is evidence enough. It is a pity our women parliamentarians are party to it, too. The innumerable inhuman and heinous crimes against women and female children have failed to open the eyes of the lawmakers.

A Kiran Bedi, a Kiran Majumdar Shaw, a Chandra Kochar, et al are but a collective, insignificant droplet in the ocean called our society. Things are changing, only seemingly.

The more things change the more they stay the same, they say. How true!

FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT

A day after the bloody fair,

I walk the sands of the square,

In search of my loving mother,

Father, sister, and missing brother.

The ground is still wet and sore,

From yesterday’s blood and gore.

Still the morning air with cries is rent,

Of men, women and children innocent.

Wade I through an ocean of corpses,

Bloody, dismembered, maimed and lifeless.

A severed limb here, a shattered skull there,

It’s blood, bones, skin, and gore everywhere.

I sit in the middle of the open graveyard,

A child, a sibling, and somebody’s ward.

Find not my loving kith and kin,

Rendered orphan, I know not my sin.

Pranced I, merrily, with my family,

Lost them yesterday to himsa dastardly.

Did not crave it, did not ask for it,

Still, to me, the magnanimous served it.

Achieved not anything, the bullet did,

Conquered not anything, the bomb did.

With sickening regularity repeats the himsa,

Alas! The world forgets the apostle of ahimsa.

‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you’,

Remember not this Golden Rule, the world does.

Created with insouciant indifference to humanity,

The gun, the bullet, the bomb, and nuclear insanity.

Humanity disappears, humaneness vanishes from lexicon,

Charity is charred, and blown away is compassion.

The unknown cause marches on, on innumerable corpses,

Diabolical goal unachieved, over mutilated bodies lifeless.

Wake up, oh unfeeling world! Where art thou headed?

Can you rule over populace maimed and dead?

Differentiate and distinguish between wrong and right,

Help me spread peace and move from darkness to light.

MY JOURNEY INTO THE WORLD OF WRITING - IV

“Dance of Life” was not “Dance of Life” to begin with.

You see, I, a conventional person in various other matters, took to computers like fish to water. Ever since I laid my fingers on the keyboard for the first time in 1990-91, I took to writing...oops...keying in my writings directly onto the hard disk. (Consequently, my already-illegible handwriting became worse over the years.) I find it quite convenient and time-saving. With the on-line support – dictionaries, thesauruses, (re)search engines - that is available nowadays, I feel very comfortable keying in my documents directly onto the hard disk.

The preamble about computers is necessary, since I had to save my text under some file name, book title in this case.

I had already decided to begin my new avatar with an easy topic that did not entail serious research and that allowed me to test my alleged potential. I chose a love story as my subject. I even envisioned the key, crucial scene and began hammering away on the keyboard.

When it came to saving the text document, I was in a fix! I did not think about the title! My Bollywood-conditioned mind worked overtime and came up with the following brilliant (I thought so, at that time ) titles for my maiden novel:

1. “Another Love Story” – I needed something to save it on my laptop. I knew I would eventually change it;
2. “RASHI- Another Love Story” – RA from Radha, the heroine and SHI from Shashi, the hero made up for this variant. I thought I was damn innovative but I found it hackneyed and clichéd a la “What’s your RASHI”;

I preferred the former and saved my document under it. As I was nearing the end of the story, and used a phrase to describe a scene, a situation, it just popped up from the page and screamed, “I am here, the title for your book.” Without a second thought, I accepted it. “DANCE OF LIFE”, the story, the flow, the characters, and their feelings and sentiments gave me this final choice for the title. Only when you complete reading the story, you will understand why, how, when and where I got this choice.

The entire nagging exercise of searching for a suitable title taught me one very important aspect of writing a novel, which is etched in my mind indelibly. Now, even when I write a short story or a poem, if I am uncertain about the title I do not worry. I know, the story would offer it to me itself.

Psst, I shall let you in on a secret. I started with the last scene first!

Initially, I described and placed the crucial scene in the Epilogue and proceeded with creating the remaining story. I made good progress and reviewed my work. To my consternation I realised that the crucial scene was like a square peg in a round hole! It was not fitting in the section where I placed it! I read, re-read, and reviewed my story umpteen times and realised that I had committed a mistake and that the scene belonged in the prologue; so, I moved it to its appropriate position in the story and proceeded. Whether it will prove ominous to the sales of my first-ever book, time alone can tell.

The characters and characterisation did not cause much problem. They fell into place and I passionately etched them each with its own individuality rather than the writer peeping through every one of them.

The dialogues, the conversation was a little tricky. I tended to go overboard with long-winded dialogues but corrected my folly in the initial stages itself. I pruned them and kept them crisp, elaborating only when needed. I think my strong point is my capacity to describe things and situations, descriptive prose as I call it. Here, I unashamedly admit the indelible influence of the redoubtable Late Alistair MacLean, who was a master in this art, on me. (Except a couple of his later-year novels, I read all his works. I consider “The Last Frontier” his best for its content, form, crisp characterisation, informal and flippant conversation and, above all, its immaculate presentation. Well, that is by the way.)

I shall come to another crucial part of the story. It is a simple letter, which was my vehicle to convey many conflicting emotions - love, sadness, hope, regret, romanticism, and pragmatism – in fact, the very essence of the story! Let me admit it here that it was an extremely onerous task, given my emotional nature. I took nearly four days to create it. I broke down every time I resumed and attempted to write it, making my guardian angel regret and wonder whether she had committed a mistake in coaxing me into writing. I explained to her that God Almighty created me that way, emotional and sentimental. I went on to say that the conclusion of every story of mine was, for me, a very emotional and nerve-racking experience. It was like giving away my daughter in marriage.

Well, folks, that’s it; my first-ever book, “Dance of Life” was complete.

What next?

MY JOURNEY INTO THE WORLD OF WRITING - III

 I was averse to begin my tryst with the role as a writer with my autobiography, for two reasons.

Firstly, I did not find the material for the book interesting. There was nothing dramatic or captivating about my life or my career. It was a run-of-the-mill kind of topic.

Secondly, by stating truth on several issues, I did not want to lose the few relations and friends I happened to have and speak the truth I must, if I undertook to write my autobiography. I let it rest, the best way, in my case, to win friends and influence people! Dale Carnegie would turn in his grave, if he read this!

Was I being dishonest? Maybe. Was I frightened? Maybe. Was I being disloyal to the cause of free writing? Maybe.

The simple truth is I was already plagued by diffidence and lack of self-confidence vis-à-vis the new cap I was going to don. I did not want to begin the arduous journey on a disastrous note, I mean story, when I was not confident whether I could handle the task at all.

After discussing with my guardian angel and telling her unequivocally that I would not be beginning with my autobiography, I pondered for several days. My primary concern was whether I could sustain my writing skills, expression, etc. over the length of a long story, a novel. I decided to take up a topic, albeit oft repeated, and test my alleged skills against it. Thus, I embarked upon my first-ever novel, which I would later christen “Dance of Life”.

Wait for my next blog to learn how I grappled with my “Dance of Life”.

Be seeing you...

MY JOURNEY INTO THE WORLD OF WRITING - II

Although retirement or superannuation, as it is officially called, is a stage in one’s life to put up one’s feet and relax forever, it is often filled with anxiety, uncertainty, and indefiniteness. Mine is no different.

My prime concern was my not possessing my own residence. Hence, I needed to augment my pension amount. My attempts to get an employment suitable to my status of retirement, age and physical limitations got me a couple of opportunities that eventually proved to be untenable. I concluded that I am unsuitable for today’s corporate job market.

I was depressed and directionless for a while, not realising my potential in “other” fields.

Then I received a kick in the butt from a guardian angel of mine. She urged me to take up writing. She felt that I possessed the essential “qualifications” and talents to take up the onerous task – good command in English language, good expression, good vocabulary, and good narrative skills. What she meant was I could spin a good yarn!

However, I was diffident. Having grown up on some classics and the contemporary works of master storytellers like Agatha Christie, Irving Wallace, et al, I knew how different spinning a yarn to one’s own children is from spinning a yarn to a vast number of readers out there. To say that it is fraught with risk would be the euphemism of the century.

I expressed my misgivings in so many and in many more words to my guardian angel. She brushed my misgivings aside as unfounded and almost commanded me to embark on my journey into the world of writing.

While I tentatively decided to take the plunge into the new activity, I was not sure of the topic. All my alleged writing skills during my 36-year long career were laid bare at the altar of fiction writing. I painfully realised that never the twain shall meet.

Writing an article, an essay, a report, etc. on a single point is easier, be it non-fiction or fiction. However, writing a short story or a novel is an entirely different kettle of fish. There must be a storyline, several characters, multiple incidents and situations, and dialogues. All these must be interwoven by means of coherence, cohesive narration, plausible logic, and cannily dramatised. Above all the readers’ attention must be attracted by an effective narrative style.

Did I possess any of these qualities?

Yes, I was definitely diffident!

Well, more of it in my next, folks!

See you later, ciao...