An Award and some Revelations

The lovely and humorous Gargi hononoured me with the Honest Scrap Award sometime back. As the recipient, I must tell you all ten things about myself.

Disclaimer: The author shall not be deemed responsible for any boredom this post may cause.

1) The first prize I ever won was for a recitation competition. I was in class (grade) I and bagged a consolation prize for reciting a poem by Swami Vivekananda.

2) In class VI when I had to give up one of the two extracurricular activities of dance and music, I let go of dance. Music has stayed with me, ever since.

3) It was in class VI only that any recognition of my writing came about. The perpetrator of this act was an essay I wrote about a trip to Appu Ghar, an amusement park in Delhi. Our English teacher, with whom I am still in touch, wrote "Good" at the end of it.

4) As a Bengali, I am crazy about fish--possibly in any and all forms. Unlike many Bengalis, I am not so crazy about sweets. There, I said it.

5) I wrote my first short story at age 14. It was in Bangla and was lucky enough to meet the approval of my immensely talented (and accomplished) author Grandma.

6) A place I return to (and must keep returning to) again and again is Santiniketan. I wasn't born or raised there, but it's a heart's connection I haven't been able to explain or eliminate.

7) The first trip I ever made outside my hometown was to the historic city of Agra. Fatehpur Sikri enchanted me even more than the world wonder, Taj Mahal.

8) My technologically challenged brain causes me eternal frustration...Sigh.

9) My first foreign trip happened in 2009, courtesy a translation Fellowship I won for my translation of a remarkable book on legendary sculptor-painter, Ramkinkar Baij. I was in the lovely city of Norwich, UK, for two months.

10) I met my husband through this very blog. He is even there on my blogroll. :)

Peeking Through...

Hello, everyone!

Humility

When the moon and the stars loom up there
You glow on the universe of your foliage--
As the world goes to sleep.


Silently you come, without a fuss;
No announcement, no flaunting of beauty
Not any attempt to hold the passerby spellbound.


In the morning, before the world rubs its bleary eyes,
You silently drop down,
No clinging, no worrying
about getting crushed under walking feet.


Yet, you draw us--
By your plain scent,
Your unassuming beauty,
Your amazing way with stopping passersby,
Bringing them down to their knees,
To pick you up gently.

You just smile, silently.

Note: Every autumn, the Shiuli, a small flower with white petals and orange stalk, blooms in different parts of India. This delicate flower blooms in the dead of night and by morning, drops off the branches. It has a soft, mild fragrance and heralds the biggest Bengali festival, Durga Puja.

Writing Strengths Meme

Lately I had been thinking of writing a those-were-the-days post, reminiscing my days of youthful blogging—of learning from erudite fellow bloggers, of “wish-I-wrote-that” moments, of unconsciously smiling upon coming across a slice of a blogger friend’s life, of discovering new friends, and of being discovered. Of feeling humbled for coming across vastly more knowledgeable and perceptive bloggers who took the time to read my posts, and of keeping in touch with old pals splintered off a writing site that saw a sad demise.

Just when I was contemplating that post, Onipar, a gifted (I don’t say that lightly) horror writer and one of the most inspiring writing buddies I have seen spared me the sentimental outpour by tagging me for the Writing Strengths meme. The brief guideline for the meme is this:

Make a list of five strengths that you possess as a writer/artist. It's not really bragging, it's an honest assessment (forced upon you by this darn meme). Please resist the urge to enumerate your weaknesses, or even mention them in contrast to each strong point you list. Tag four other writers or artists whom you'd like to see share their strengths.

I laughed at first. Like many other aspiring authors, I wondered if I had even three strong points as a writer. In the end, I could think of five, though. Here they are:

1) Faith: This isn’t just a strong sense of hope that I will be a published writer some day. This is deeper. It’s the heart’s connection with my writing itself. Faith in what I write and what it means to me. When I write drafts, the writing quality may be (and usually is) pathetic, the style stilted, the grammar unsure. But in the midst of all that I see a reflection of my inner world, merging at once with the world around me. I guess this is the most important element of my writing life.

2) Perseverance: Oni calls it courage. I will go with the more conventional term. All true writers persevere; it’s not really an option for them, it’s just part of the game. The odds are high and keep going higher, rejections come slamming on your face, finances play hide-n-seek with you, and you are in an arena even more uncertain than gambling or lottery. But you plug on, driven by a strange rush, aiming for a star many galaxies away.

3) Voice: Most of the feedback I have received on my writing has mentioned this facet. It’s a fusion of the social milieu I come from and the cultural sensibilities I have absorbed over the years. I write what I know; my lack of international experience makes my English writing a translated rendition of the Indian life I have known and seen.

4) Humanity: This isn’t to imply my writing is humane. It’s just to say my writing is mostly drawn from life—mine and of those falling within my immediate, extended, or distant environment. The best of writers, those who have told stories of ordinary people and their trials and triumphs are not preachers trying to teach the basics of a just society to the world at large. Nor are they messiahs, offering solutions for the repressions they witness. They are mirrors, reflecting us just the way we are—fair or ugly (not in the literal sense, of course).

5) Student: I am a lifelong learner when it comes to writing. Having a student’s outlook helps me remain open to advice and smart enough to glean benefit from even not-so-positive feedback. I have seen the results over the years; they aren’t too bad.

So there. I can now officially thank Oni for bringing me out of my self-imposed blog exile. Writing is the reason this blog is facing neglect. I am choking with freelance work and other assignments to the extent where I only find scraps of time to work on my personal writing projects. Since the blog is less demanding than those pesky projects, it waits patiently. Until a friend nudges me to return to it. 

Who do I tag? Lisa, Alicia, Bob, and John Baker.

Seven Writing Questions: A Meme

Good friend Lisa tagged me for this one. I enjoyed reading her answers and thought I'd have a go at it.

1. What's the one book or writing project you haven't yet written but still hope to?

A travel book that will combine food and journeying and will take me to hidden corners of India.

2. If you had one entire day in which to do nothing but read, what book would you start with?

The twelve volumes of Rabindranath Tagore’s writings. I look at them wistfully every day, but a dozen “important” tasks draw me away from them. On a day meant just for reading, a dozen tomes will draw me—to a lifetime’s feast.

3. What was your first writing "instrument" (besides pen and paper)?

That has to be my PC. Got it around five or six years back—a second hand machine. I was thrilled to have a computer of my own. By then I had good enough typing skills, thanks to years of writing-related jobs. The PC was a godsend, not just because it boosted my writing efforts, but because it introduced me to fellow writers from all parts of the world. The internet led me to my first writing forum, enabling me to connect with writers—aspiring and published, while at the same time helping me hone my writing skills, discover my voice, and lend me new dreams.

4. What's your best guess as to how many books you read in a month?

I am a painfully slow reader. At my best, I can finish two good-sized books (300 pages) in a month. This also explains why I am so ill-read.

5. What's your favorite writing "machine" you've ever owned?

I will cheat here and say what Lisa said. My laptop, which isn’t even a year old (touch wood!). The light black notebook has given my writing life much-needed mobility—even if that only means being able to sit and work in the TV room when cricket matches are on. The laptop aided me well during my Bengal trip—I could download photos, take brief travel notes, check email, and generally didn't feel internet deprived.

6. Think historical fiction: what's your favorite time period in which to read?

My limited reading stock doesn’t include much historical fiction, but if given a chance to select a period, I would like to read books reflecting the British Raj and 20th-century India.

7. What's the one book you remember most clearly from your youth (childhood or teens)?

Gone With the Wind. This book had a sweeping impact on me. Everything in it—the setting, the storyline, the unfamiliar (for me) speech patterns, AND Rhett Butler made the summer of my school-leaving year a hard-to-forget one.

As for tagging, let me at once tag any and every one who would like to do this. Do let me know, though, so I can read your responses. :-)

Fresh Connections

Just when I thought my blog wasn't living up enough to connect with readers (I am to blame for that in part--in recent times I have been at best a semi-active blogger), Sid Leavitt of Readers and writers blog, an interactive universe of the written word, as the subtitle says, came with a gentle reassurance. By selecting At Home, Writing as one of the featured blogs on his site, with a kind and affectionate review, Sid told me this blog is still touching a few heartstrings. Always a joy to know that.

Friends, in a blogosphere cramped by barely literate fans fawning over celebrities and barely literate celebrities pandering to fans, there’s a wide open world indeed waiting in weblogs like At Home, Writing.

Even more delightful was discovering the Readers and Writers blog itself, an excellent venue to bring readers and writers together. To have found a place in his blogroll--which features Bernita's brilliant and classy An Innocent A-Blog--is indeed an honour for me.

Thank you, Sid. For taking At Home to the world.

Ready to Fly

In the course of becoming a bad-to-worse blogger, making turtle-rate progress with my WIP, trying to become a serious freelance writer, and nursing a sore knee, I managed to steal 25 days for a vacation. Am off tomorrow, to Bengal.

All five senses are alert and excited. I hope it turns out a trip to remember.

I will miss you all. Honest.

Booklane: Remembered, revisited

The roads are narrow and the mass of fellow humans overwhelming. Jostling one’s way through this intractable crowd is a skill only acquired with repeated visits to the place. I didn’t do so badly, considering it was my second trip. Revisiting the pavement book bazaar in Daryaganj, situated in Old Delhi or the other face of the city I call home, brought back snapshots of a winter morning tucked away in the memory files. Nearly a decade ago, I had visited the place for the first time with a co-worker friend. I had been instantly besotted with Booklane.

On that sunny January morning (or was it December?), my friend had gifted me a trip to this booklover’s promised land. I remember my sense of wonder on seeing this never-ending strip of book stalls, the 200-odd sellers displaying their collections neatly on the pavement and producing your requested book in a jiffy. We spent hours and hours scouring through the books, a lot of them secondhand. One is free to read, not just browse through books in this leisurely atmosphere.


The sun had warmed our feet, the books our hands and hearts, the prices our pockets. The Sunday book bazaar is popular because of the availability of good, even rare books at cheap prices. The memory has faded a bit, but I do remember returning home with a Seamus Heaney anthology and a book of plays, biographies and other interesting details, put together by the National School of Drama or NSD. Both prized possessions to this day. Without a doubt, that winter’s day happened to be one of the brightest in my life.

My visit to Booklane last Sunday wasn’t as merry, though. It appeared the area for the book bazaar has shrunk a bit, and this time, it was really a battle to make one's way through the crowd. Even when my feet landed at a spot that would let me look at the books, the view was anything but happy. For most of the stalls were packed with textbooks of all sorts. Students thronged the place, picking up fat books at cheap prices. The fiction lover was virtually non-existent. Coin lovers weren’t, though, because this is also a great venue to buy old coins dating back to the era of the British Raj.

Although the trip to Booklane wasn’t all that satisfying, the jaunt to Old Delhi was immensely fulfilling. For here is a world sheltering a culture and a history that has almost ebbed out of the modern city life I witness every day. And amid all the crowd and congestion lies a charm that keeps calling you to the place again and again. Yes, more trips planned to the walled city.


Special thanks to Bhupinder for making me Booklane bound.

Wishing You Well

When the sun shines on the mountain And the night is on the run It's a new day It's a new way And I fly up to the sun




HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Good Reads...

Dotara, the instrument Bauls play while singing

...I stumbled upon online over the past few days.

Writing Palestine at Words Without Borders, my window to contemporary world literature ('wish I would visit the site more often). The WWB feature showcases the writings of nine Palestinian writers, reflecting the many hues of the conflict-ridden desertscape. Some great writing, brought to us through sensitive translation. My favourite is The Shoes by Nassar Ibrahim:

Time passes slowly, hot and dusty: Barriers, guns, soldiers, identity card checks, long waits, curses and humiliations. Everything mixes with everything else; the advance and the retreat both have the same measure of suffering. In the back, the barriers and the humiliations; ahead, the same thing. So, forward he went. Isn’t arrival, isn’t the surmounting of suffering, the defiance of being broken down a simple, clear parity? An entire nation finds byroads, steps over logic and reason to maintain for itself the logic which says, Persistence first, or death.

Bhupinder Singh's most inspired tribute to India's firebrand socialist poet, Kaifi Azmi. The quality of the post is made better by Bhupinder's wonderful translation of Kaifi's poetry. A great read.

To look for Kaifi, is to keep on searching the for new, better, more egalitarian worlds. And heavens that are more just. To remove this search from his poetry would be to take away its soul.

William Dalrymple's feature article on Bauls or Bengali minstrels. The essay is engagingly heartfelt, yet at the same time marked by a traveller's objective recounting and a historian's passion for research. Besides being a treat in itself, the article brought back great reminiscences. The mention of Bhaskar Bhattacharya, a former colleague, and of his association with the Bauls of West Bengal, revived some wonderful memories. My brother happened to be a part of Bhaskar's team working on a film on the lives of these minstrels, and some of them even came to our house during their Delhi visits. I don't know how I missed this superb article for so long.

Throughout their 500-year history, the Bauls have refused to conform to the social or religious conventions of conservative and caste-conscious Bengali society...The goal is to discover the "Man of the Heart" - Moner Manush - the ideal that lives within every man...

Happy weekend reading to all. :)

Words Without Borders, Palestinian Literature, Kaifi Azmi, William Dalrymple, Baul

At Home, Working

The pending post-it list never lets up.

Words get written, exploding on the screen in gazillions; not one of them is for my Work In Progress (WIP).

The cell phone rings intermittently--morning, noon, night. Regular work briefings. Emergency calls to "please accommodate" new work within tight deadlines.

The calendar polar bear gives me quiet, understanding company.

Work doesn't suck. It brings in money, much needed for survival. But...

In trying to resuscitate my bank account, I seldom find time for the joys that filled my inside. I miss visiting my blog pals. The mind yearns for those daily doses of laconic, exquisite, epigrammatic cyber inscriptions. The heart longs to go and say a hello to the authors of those inscriptions, dear friends, all.

The WIP unassumingly positions itself at the bottom of the "work" heap, not pestering to be paid attention to. "I will wait," it says "for the moment you are ready to pick me up with love, not because you have to, but because it will bring joy to the spirit. I know you will, no worries. Do tend to the ailing coffers first."

Here is someone trying to find her feet in the land of freelancers. That's all that keeps me away from here lately. Trust me, I am still...

At Home, Writing.

Freelance Writing

Pujo Manei...

That Bengali phrase translates to "the very meaning of pujo." Pujo here refers to Durga Puja, the biggest festival for Bengalis. It marks goddess Durga's descent to earth for ten days every year. This year, Durga Puja officially begins on September 23. It's a special time of the year. A time when religion and worship become the venerated background. The foreground is the Bengalis' love for culture, cuisine, and most of all, celebration.

Shiuli Flower

For me,

the very meaning of Pujo is:

the unmistakable slight chill in the air that indicates the enervating summer days are history. The sky looks bright, the air feels fresh, the heart sings with the first autumn notes.

the scent of shiuli flower floating in from the tree outside the house every evening, signaling the coming of Durga.

waking up at 4 am on Mahalaya, the invocation that seeks Durga's descent on earth. Even before dawn cracks through the sky on this day, All India Radio broadcasts a special audio programme, featuring scriptural chants, classical songs, and the story of how Durga annihilated Mahisasura, the demon king.

the memories of taking part in pre-pujo competitions all over the neighbourhood. Recitation, music, art, sports, fancy dress...the competitions that introduced me to Rabindranath, Nazrul, Sukumar Ray, Sukanto. The competitions that brought me books in the form of prizes.

gorging on the most delectable food at various pandals. From spicy jhalmuri to egg-rolls dripping with oil to biryani and kababs. And of course the traditional, delicious bhog.

the inimitable sound of Dhak overtaking the entire atmosphere, silencing the crass automobile horns with its nostalgic beats.

the staying up late in the night at pandals, watching cultural shows. The shows that brought folk theatre like Jatra, folk music like baul and bhatiyali as well as "modern" songs to urban Bengalis. The nights that wrapped you in the cozy aura of black and white Bengali films featuring the never-fading, ever-endeared Uttam Kumar.

coming across friends and acquaintances you haven't met in ages. Like your social studies teacher from middle school whom all the students loved. Or the physics teacher you would have done anything to avoid back when you were her student.

that inexplicable happiness and widespread camaraderie that mingles with the crisp autumn air.

Durga Puja

The Book Meme

I have been tagged by the erudite and universally-linked [;)] John Baker for a meme. Thanks, John. It was fun doing this. :)

1. One book that changed your life?
As a high school teenager it was Charles Chaplin's My Autobiography. To me, his story was a testimony of the triumph of human spirit, and the book served as an inspiration for many years.

A few years back, I read A Fine Balance and was jolted out of my complacency. The book made me think for days and made me more conscious about the lives outside my insulated sphere of existence.

2. One book you have read more than once?

Rabindranath Tagore's Sanchaita (collected poems). It's been a constant friend.

3. One book you would want on a desert island?

Gitabitan, Rabindranath Tagore's book of songs. It has some of the finest of this sage poet's poetry, sweeping the entire spectrum of the universe. Since I also sing Rabindrasangeet (Tagore songs), this book will be a perfect companion at a deserted island.

4. One book that made you cry?

Most recently it was The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini.

5. One book that made you laugh?

Carry Me Home by Sandra Kring. The book also made me cry in places. Terrific read.

6. One book you wish you had been written?

The Kite Runner. I wish I could like as lyrically, create a setting as enchanting and atmospheric, and evoke emotions as strong as Hosseini did.

7. One book you wish had never been written?

Am yet to come across a book like that.

8. One book you are currently reading?

The Plague by Albert Camus.

9. One book you have been meaning to read?

SO many. My immediate priority is The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri.

Now for my victims, er, friends to tag. Here they are: Shadow Writer, Lotus Reads, Bernita, Susan, Amin, and Simran. Can't wait to see your answers!

PS: I just noticed I read one of the questions incorrectly. Q 6 asks about "one book I wish had been written," and my response is for a book I wish I had written. LOL. You can expect that from this daft reader/writer. So instead of answering the original question, I am tweaking it here so my answer fits. Yes, I am lazy too.

Memes, Books

Reel-istically Funny

AW Chain 6 is here. An event I am getting addicted to. It's amazing to see how one subject leads to the other, leaving you enriched and entertained by the end of the process. Before me, Kelly spoke about some comedy flicks that featured muscular action heroes trying their best to manage little babies. Now, that instantly makes me smile. The proposition of tough men at their clumsiest worst when it comes to babysitting is intrinsically funny, isn't it?

So what is it that makes a good comedy film? If I had to nail it down, I would say it just takes an intelligently crafted story that taps in to the foibles of human nature and gives them a lighter spin. How do you measure a comedy film as good or trash? Again, the yardstick for me is a simple and time-tested one. If the film manages to make your stomach hurt with laughter even after you've seen it 58 times, it has to be good.

Let me share with you five of my all-time favourite Hindi comedy films. I am not rating them, since they all make your belly explode equally well. On to the laughter pills then:

1. GOLMAAL (Topsy-turvy): Ram Prasad is a middle-class chartered accountant, desperately looking for a job to support himself and his sister. He is thrilled to learn about a vacancy at a firm owned and run an eccentric old man called Bhavani Shankar. However, there is a catch. The old man believes the youth of the country should focus only on their jobs, and not waste time on other interests like sports or entertainment. Ram Prasad, a soccer and hockey lover goes prepared for an interview with this quirky gentleman. He impresses Bhavani Shankar when the latter asks him a question on Pele, and he apparently fails to recognize the soccer maestro. He gets the job.

Trouble starts when the boss spots Ram Prasad on the spectator stand at a soccer match he goes to attend. When called in for explanation, Ram Prasad fabricates an impeccable (and imaginary) tale of his younger brother, Lakshman Prasad, who he says is a wayward young man, wasting his youth on sports and music. He convinces his boss that it was Lakshman whom the old man had seen at the stadium. He further claims the younger brother doesn't sport a moustache. What follows is a rollercoaster of uproarious situations, in which Ram Prasad has to switch between the roles of his own self and that of his sans-moustache fictional brother, forever at the risk of his boss stumbling upon the truth.

2. CHUPKE CHUPKE (Stealthily): A well-plotted story of how a couple decides to dupe their relatives for some harmless fun. A newly-married couple--a botany professor and his wife--plan to play a prank on the wife's brother-in-law, a judge who is very particular about the use of pure Hindi. The professor, hitherto unseen by these relatives, takes up a driver's job at the judge's house, exhibiting his unadulterated Hindi-speaking tendencies.

Things get suspicious for the older couple when the judge's sister-in-law is seen to openly flirt with the new driver. The situation gets out of control when the duo actually elopes and another (planted) character emerges, claiming to be the botany professor. Imagine the older couple’s embarrassment, even as the man claiming to be the botany professor is actually a scholar of English literature and has a hard time teaching botany to a young girl he begins to fancy while still posing as the married professor.

3. JAANE BHI DO YAARON (Let it be, Friends): A remarkable film that was a blend of black comedy and slapstick. Two photographer friends set up shop in the busy Mumbai city. Their first assignment comes from a newspaper editor, and accidentally the two friends photograph a murder scene. They are dragged increasingly into the dark and deceitful world of corrupt administrators and businessmen. A brilliant satire enacted by some of the finest actors of the Hindi film industry, this flick was marked by witty dialogues, hilariously absurd sequences, and an unmistakable dig at urban ugliness (not just the physical part of it).

4. RANG BIRANGI (Colourful): A riotous comedy on a bachelor friend's attempt at rekindling the spark in the marital life of another friend. His script turns the lives of the married friend, his secretary, her boyfriend, and a whole lot of other people in the film into a complicated labyrinth of circumstances. The plot hatched by the bachelor friend is the backbone of the film's plot. Fantastic plotting and rib-tickling scenarios conspire together to produce an explosively funny film.

5. KATHA (Tale): Yet another social comedy, reflecting the dilemmas of urban life. Rajaram is an honest middle-class clerk living in a densely-populated locality of Mumbai. He secretly loves his neighbour, Sandhya, but can't profess his feelings to her. Soon, he is joined by his smooth-talking-but-idle friend, Bashudev. The latter wastes no time in courting Sandhya, even while living in Rajaram's flat at the nice guy's expense. A classic hare-tortoise story, in which, thankfully, the tortoise wins the battle after almost losing it. Bashudev takes the cake, though, entertaining and disgusting the audience at the same time.

All of those sparkling funny bubbles, filled with natural laughing gas are stories of ordinary people caught in the daily grind. They make for healthy, wholesome family entertainment. All of them deserve separate entries. Maybe some other time. For now, let me navigate you to the Indian-movie-loving Simran at Writing From Within.

awchain, Indian cinema, Hindi Films, Comedy

Old Story, New Contest

Old story:

Back in June, I took part in the Midnight Road short fiction contest, hosted by Jason. Part of the contest is the learning that comes with it. So here's my entry, in a modified version. I incorporated some of the suggestions Jason gave me in his feedback. Do let me know how you like it. Thanks, Jason.

The Eyewitness

“You know, you should just quit it.” Her words stiffened his limbs every evening, as he lumbered his way back home. They had arrived in the neighborhood just last month, and while everything else seemed okay, the dark stretch vexed her as much as it paralyzed him.

If only he had the luxury of not pursuing the part-time MBA classes after work every evening.

Difficult to admit though it was, he hated the fact that it was the only route back home from college. It was a weird road; he didn't doubt that. No matter how many times the municipality fixed the street light, it would stop functioning.

It’s always midnight here.

“Silly girl, always thinking the worst. I am not the only one who walks on that road,” he would tell her.

Faking reassurance. Easy. Plodding through that dark track every evening. Creepy. In the back of his mind, snapshots lurked—of pickpockets ruffling his trousers’ back pocket…

A .410 handgun did it in the end. It was Diwali eve, and he bought her favorite sweets. As he wound his way through the dark road, humming a song, three gun shots twisted his gait into a red rivulet. Unarmed civilians were the best targets to drive home the demand for a separate state.

His cell phone, lying unclaimed with his corpse, beeped twice. There was just one eyewitness—a live, mute electric pole.

It was midnight when the police contacted her to identify the body.

[The End]

New Contest: Lonely Moon Short Fiction Contest

If the story left you a bit glum, here's something to cheer you up. Our gracious host, Jason Evans, is hosting yet another short fiction contest. Using the picture you see, write a story of 250 words or less. The deadline is August 29, 11 pm, EST. The details are here. Jason's contests keep getting better each time. This time, it takes a big leap with bestselling author, Anne Frasier, joining the event. Anne's new book, Pale Immortal, is going to be launched on September 5. And no less exciting is the fact that the winners of the Lonely Moon contest will get autographed copies of Pale Immortal as prizes.

What are we waiting for then? Let's get busy, writing!

Writing contests, Short Fiction, Pale Immortal

At Home, Interviewed

I just received some bragging rights, thanks to Razib Ahmed of South Asia Biz, who interviewed me. South Asia Biz is a part of Know More Media, a rapidly growing online publisher of business information and news, and one of the world's leading business blog networks.

Thank you, Razib. :)

The interview can be read here.


Freelance Writing, Blogging, Making Out in America, Know More Media

Mirror Thy Name

No, that's not a narcissistic expression. Look carefully, and you will notice it's an ambigram. If you turned the lettering upside down, it'll still read my name. The creator is the talented Balaji. His blog of ambigrams says, "Ambigrams are words of symmetry.They look the same when read upside down also.There are many types of ambigrams.I try to make ambigrams that look the same when rotated and ambigrams that read the same even on a mirror."

Balaji is passionate about creating ambigrams and does them free of cost if you request him. Do check him out.

Ambigram

Contest Finalist

This is beyond my wildest imagination.

My memoir piece has been chosen as one of the seven finalists for a contest organized by The Memoirists Collective.

Hundreds of entries, huge talent pool, diverse subjects. I feel overwhelmed and humbled to have even placed.

The winner, chosen from among these finalists, will have his/her proposal read by the top editors of three major publishing houses--Harper Collins, Hyperion and Holt. No guarantee of the proposal being accepted for publication, but a huge opportunity nonetheless.

There will be another round, with the finalists expanding their entries and doing a workshop with the organizers. A great learning experience all in all.

You can read my entry here. Please feel free to post comments.

Special thanks to Bernita for helping me polish the piece for submission. :)

Memoir Writing, Contest, The Memoirists Collective

Indian Blog Outage

Apparently, the Indian government has asked ISPs to block blogspot.com sites. I can post entries, but can't view them if I type the actual blog address on my browser. I can still see the blog, though, by taking a detour. More on the government action here, here, and here.

India Blog Ban

I never knew...

That our blogs had a dual, in some cases even a dubious identity. Presenting an anagarammatic version of the blogs listed on At Home, Writing. Enjoy the wacky, inane, intelligtent, perfect, outrageous second identities. I hope I covered all blogs linked here. Sorry if I missed any. Oh wait, maybe you are happy I missed yours!

webuser: At Home, Writing
sternest: Now irate might.

webuser: Of Chapters and Reels
sternest: Sharp, saner cold feet.

webuser: Hard to Want
sternest: To and wrath.

webuser: Musings
sternest: Smug sin.

webuser: While I am thinking of it
sternest: I'm a white-hot if inkling.

webuser: The Clarity of Night
sternest: Fetching, throatily.

webuser: Tales at Twilight
sternest: Little aghast wit.

webuser: An Innocent A Blog
sternest: Not. Cannibal gone.

webuser: Flash Flood
sternest: Shod of fall.

webuser: The Prose Nest
sternest: Sternest hope.

webuser: And nothing else matters
sternest: Handiest angel torments.

webuser: A reader's words
sternest: Swearers or add.

webuser: The Write thing
sternest: The tighter win.

webuser: Heaven tree
sternest: Veneer hate.

webuser: Kappa no he
sternest: Happen oak.

webuser: Lotus Reads
sternest: Lust adores.

webuser: Midnight Writings
sternest: Trim singing width.

webuser: Southern Expressions
sternest: Oh No! Sexiest spurners.

webuser: Peregrinas
sternest: Paris green.

webuser: Writer's Edge
sternest: Sweeter grid.

webuser: Fireflies in the cloud
sternest: Chief, fluent idoliser.

webuser: Jamieford.com
sternest: Major of medic.

webuser: John Baker's Blog
sternest: Blob gnash joker.

webuser: So you want to be a writer
sternest: Beauty! Traitors owe now.

webuser: Remaindered Random Musings
sternest: Domineering and mass-murder.

webuser: Blogdangit
sternest: It gang bold.

webuser: No rules. Just write.
sternest: Slow injure truest.

webuser: Enter the laughter
sternest: The gentle urethra.

webuser: A newbie's guide to publishing
sternest: Dubious weighting plebeians.

webuser: Bengali Literature
sternest: Alert able intrigue.

webuser: Cancer Mom
sternest: Corn cam me.

webuser: Abhinav Aima Rants
sternest: Aha! Vibrant manias.

webuser: In the Middle
sternest: The idle mind.

webuser: Benjamin Solah's Blog
sternest: Jam on slobbish angel.

webuser: Life as it happens
sternest: In filth appeases.

webuser: No rules. Just write
sternest: Slow injure truest.

webuser: Terrorism News
sternest: Sworn, merriest.

webuser: The empire falls
sternest: Fill sheep-tamer.

webuser: Stones in the field
sternest: Not idle heftiness.

webuser: Hot Diggity
sternest: Hog tidy git.

webuser: Outside my window
sternest: O My! Is wounded wit.

webuser: Shameless words
sternest: Wordless shames.

webuser: Writing after dark
sternest: Tawdrier king fart.

webuser: Writings and musings of Paul West
sternest: Satanists win powerful smudging.

webuser: NVNC ID VIDE, NVNC NE VIDES
sternest: Vend 'n' scenic 'n' vivid vend.

webuser: Blue Speckled eggs
sternest: Speckles leg debug.

webuser: Liv's life
sternest: I've fills.

webuser: Loving Twilight
sternest: Vigil light town.

webuser: Lima Beans and Delhi Chaat
sternest: Am headiest ball and chain.

And just in case you are wondering if I've had too much time on my hands lately, no, that's not the case. I am no anagram champion either. I was introduced to these hidden identities of our blogs here. So you see, I am not to blame!

Anagrams, Blog names