My author photo pains!

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! Among the long list of unpleasant (to me) things I would have to do in connection with writing my novel, one was taking my author photo.

I was quite, quite aware that to become a published author, an author photo was a must. I was most determined to have it on my book cover, in fact. But that didn’t mean I was not turned into a mass of palpitating nerves when I thought about it.

I remember, the first time my name was uploaded on www.savarkar.org in connection with the translations of Savarkar’s poems in early 2010, a haze had come over my eyes. I had erroneously assumed the translations would be uploaded as anonymous. For almost two weeks I was trying to come to grips with seeing my name in public.

It was a ridiculous reaction in one aspiring to be an author! But there it is; logic and feelings are quite divorced from each other. How, I thought to myself, will I handle my author photo being publicly displayed? My mind shied away from giving answers.

I procrastinated till the very last minute to get my photo taken, which is not at all like me in general. One thing I had decided: I would go to a professional, established photographer, even if I had to pay a steep price. The photographer would have to work a little miracle for my photo, I was sure. Nancy Carbonaro was recommended to me, and with a racing heart I made the appointment.

I had very specific requirements (when do I not?) and issues that would have to be addressed while taking my photo:

· I am not photogenic. That would certainly have to be overcome!

I have several family pictures that can—unhappily!—be described as “Monster from the Moon” or “Boiled Potato.” To have such a one for all to see would be a horror of the first order.

· Alas! With all the good intentions I had, I had still not managed to lose weight.

· The photo had to be natural and had to capture the essence of me.

I agonized over my jewelry (I love prominent necklaces.) I agonized over my hair. I agonized over the color of my top. In short, I agonized—over everything!

The photo shoot was an ordeal, but I was much comforted by the samples of Nancy’s photographic talents. All her photographs seemed to speak. It was as if she had captured her subjects for but a moment, any second they would move again. That’s how I want my photo, I told her (raising the difficulty level some more!)

And then I found myself posing in her studio. I felt ridiculous! I had to look here, look there; chin up, chin down; head turned here, eyes looking the other way; shoulders this way that way etc. All this I managed somewhat, but we did hit a snag at the smile!

I have never mastered the art of giving a teeny-tiny, graceful smile. Like in everything, I have to go the whole hog—with a full-toothed grin, all thirty-two teeth showing (as you can see!) I could have managed a serious expression (by thinking grim thoughts) but there was always a danger of bursting into giggles, possibly hysterical ones at finding myself modeling.

Anyway, we decided to go with the flow. Click, click, click went Nancy’s camera. Thump, thump, thump went my heart. She had allocated an hour for my session. How would I survive an hour of this? I was thinking. What if no photo looked acceptable (never mind good)?

Fifteen minutes into the session, when we were looking at the results of the last bout of clicking, I spotted the perfect photo. That’s it, I told Nancy, bag that and we are done. She felt she was not doing justice to me, with only a fifteen minute session.

But I knew it was never going to get better than that! I had never actually believed I would have a photo that I could display and look people in the eye afterwards. I was thrilled with Nancy’s work, which is why I put her name on the back cover!

It occurs to me now, that this post should really have gone in my “Divine Intervention” series.

But I so-o-o don’t want to think of my photo, that it escaped my mind. Very remiss of me!

Anurupa

Oh Mercy Me . . .!

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! With the aid of Google translate and a couple of other sites—none by any means efficient translation tools for translating 100-year-old French legalese—I marched along my chosen obstacle course (with grim, very grim, determination) of translating the French Savarkar Case submitted to the Hague on October 24, 1910.

After much hair tugging, rolling of eyes, and even some tantrum-throwing (at myself) I managed to translate the documents. Sometimes it took an hour or two to translate one sentence. You will find them all except the French case (which I have to final proof read yet) in the right bar.

I am going to put before you some of the translations the sites threw at me, just to give an idea of how horrendous an ordeal it was.

“because illegal is because the law also Volker Act (law) is the individual states, including the arrest in violation of foreign territorial sovereignty. Self of course, is that the state whose territorial sovereignty is violated in such a way that has the right to reparation under international law, and thus also the freeing of the compensation shall and may require unlawfully arrested.”

Trying to make sense out of that abbledy-gabbledy is enough to give anyone a migraine!!

And

“It is therefore to him that it échet to prove the parking ticket that it alleges”

At this I had to go into my head-clutching routine. Just what was I supposed to with ‘parking ticket’?!!

And

There were words referring to the Tribunal Court translated as ‘your haunted wisdom’. Now, what on earth did that mean?

I checked all three sites with the words by themselves, in parts of a sentence, and full sentence (believe it or not, sometimes that gives totally different meanings). No luck.

Lastly, I checked haunted/haunting in thesaurus and—yippee . . . !!—I found a meaning I could use: everlasting. So my translated sentence is saying, “your everlasting wisdom.”

This kind of stuff was the norm. Besides this, I also had to translate some Latin and German references that occur in the Case. I totally rebelled at one letter and have not translated the whole of it, only the parts relevant to the Case.

But bottom line is that there is extremely valuable information in these documents. Some of which I have recorded in my Savarkar: The Great Escape. And the rest I am saving for my third book.

It was worth every bit of the agony I went through and more.

Anurupa

The saga continues . . .

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! Much encouraged by my Sagaras effort, I moved on to translate Jayostute and thence to Priyakar Hindustan. After this Herculean effort—I assure you it is every bit as difficult as you imagine to translate a language you don’t know—I decided to rest on my laurels.

By this time Shreerang, (Dr. Shreerang Godbole) had started making noises re me translating all of Savarkar’s poems! The idea was so preposterous that it didn’t even sink into my brain at once. And when it did, I squawked—and how . . . !!

Nevertheless, I shortly found myself pounding out the poems on my laptop and shooting them off to my mother. My poor mother, faithfully and uncomplainingly, worked on them. It wasn’t easy for her either. Savarkar’s poems are not easy—be-e-a-utiful but not easy—to comprehend.

The whole process from typing to preparing my ‘work file’ was incredibly tedious and monotonous. But when it came to the figuring out the poem and the translation . . . ! Thatwas soul-stirring for me. Impossible to put it in words!

How very glad I was that I had (so bravely) undertaken the translations. The poems revealed a Savarkar I may never have discovered otherwise. I spent hours and hours studying the poems. Literally, I felt a tingle all over when I understood them. I had to understand them in both heart and mind, before I could begin the translations.

In the poem below (at least in the original) one can feel Savarkar’s desperation to stir the people into freeing his beloved Hindustan.

Take! Do take the oath, O Youths,

An oath to die for your Country, do take!

Ah! How rest you with such ease?

Do not you feel pangs of torment?

Strive for Tilak’s Goal!

Writhing helpless in anguish it be!

The Hindu trumpet resounds! The word is spread!

Hear me! My throat is hoarse, very hoarse

Reiterating this refrain.

And yet! Yet your hearts are not ablaze.

Strive for the goal,

Lest Our Country be destroyed!

Let not a mere name it be worldwide!

I discovered that Savarkar had a fascinating way of using similar words in a sentence which gave different meanings:

Retuj saritpate ! ji sarita

And

Vidhvansuni kumpana ha righala

Ghalavayala par tola ghala

And

Galavarchya kusumi kinva kusumancha gaali

With this attempt, I became much emboldened. When I was faced with several French documents in the Savarkar Case, and no one able to translate them, I decided to do it myself.

My Translation Saga . . .

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! One of the most surprising things I have done is translating Savarkar’s poems. Surprising because I do not understand Savarkar’s high level Marathi!

Savarkar’s heart and soul is in his poems. So I wanted to quote bits of Savarkar’s poems throughout my book. I hunted and hunted on Google but in vain. There was a youtube video which used to give a translation of Jayostute, but it had been pulled off, most inconveniently for me.

Now what? As usual, when there is no help coming one has to get down to it oneself. I decided to start with Sagara pran talamalala. This poem has always moved me to tears.

Fortunately, my mother is a Sanskrit scholar and very good in Marathi and English as well. I asked her if she would give me a word by word literal translation of the poem. She agreed willingly.

First I typed out the poem. When I received my mother’s literal word by word translations, I pasted each translation line below Savarkar’s Marathi one. Luckily for me, Sagaras is a relatively easy poem to understand. Upon studying it, I grasped the whole poem (after reflecting for a couple of hours).

Then I meditated on it for a while, until I felt (as far as I could) what Savarkar felt, and then attempted the poetic translation.

I am no poet. I have no sense of meter or rhythm at all. But somehow Savarkar’s poetry brought out something in me that was good enough—or so I feel.

Here is my effort:

Take me, O Ocean! Take me to my Motherland!

My soul is in torment away from her,

So much torment, O Ocean!

Did not I always see you

Lapping worshipfully at my Mother’s feet?

Did not you call me to visit other Lands,

To see the bounties of nature abound, said you.

My Mother’s heart, so full of pain and uncertainty it was,

To hear of the parting of our ways!

Then, a sacred oath you did give—to her,

Carrying me on your back,

My speedy homecoming, you promised—to her.

The way home is known, said you.

Believe this your promise, did I!

More worldly-wise and able, be I

More worthy to extol her glory, be I

Upon my return.

So saying, so believing, I bid farewell—to her!

My soul is in torment away from her,

So much torment, O Ocean!

Duped was I—

Like a parrot in a cage, like a deer in a trap!

Doomed by this continual separation,

Besieged with darkness am I!

Gathering the Flowers of Virtue,

Desiring to shower my Mother by its fragrance was I.

Oh of what use all my knowledge is,

Doomed to be a mere burden it be,

When use it not for her glorification can I!

Estranged am I from her Garden of Flowers,

For the love of her mango tree, pine I

For her trailing vines, pine I

For the bud of her rose, pine I

My soul is in torment away from her,

So much torment, O Ocean!

O abounding with stars is the heaven above,

But love only do I

The bright Star of my Motherland!

O abounding with magnificent palaces these lands are,

But love only do I

Ever the humble hut in my Motherland!

What care I for a promised Kingdom—without Her?

O to be with my Mother

Ever a life exiled in her forests choose I.

More deception is futile now, O Lord of the Rivers,

Let you not be spared, vow I

Suffer the same pangs, say I

Of separation from the most beloved of your rivers!

My soul is in torment away from her,

So much torment, O Ocean!

O pitiless One, how you mock me with your foaming surf!

Think you my Mother is helpless—that you dare deceive her so!

That you dare condemn me to this longing so!

Why do you go back on your word?

So afraid of Britain be you?

She does flaunt her mastery over you so!

Quail before a fearsome Britain, do you?

But not so my Mother, see you!

No! My Mother is not so feeble!

Tell this tale to Sage Agasti she will,

Fear him, who in one gulp your waters drank!

Take me, O Ocean! Take me to my Motherland!

My soul is in torment away from her,

So much torment, O Ocean!

Anurupa

And More Divine Intervention. . . !

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! Right after I got the review, I sent out an email to all my contacts (some of whom I do not even know). In general I got a very good response, but one really stood out.

I got an email from Mr. Vishnu Pandya saying he would like to review my book in his column and prestigious magazines in India. I was most excited, even though at the time I didn’t know who he was. I hadn’t expected to get any such request at all. I sent out my book in a couple of days.

Very soon I discovered that Vishnuji was a prominent personality in Gujarat and an author of 92—yes, 92 . . .!—books. All of his books are either on revolutionaries, interesting people he came across, or political analysis, not light topics in other words. He has written in all forms too—novel, biography, drama, poetry, journalism, everything, really. Most impressive!

Even so, when he referred to Gandhi as a “saint” in our communication I couldn’t let it go without a protest. There is something about Gandhi being referred as a “saint” that gets my dander up instantly.

Feeling every bit conscious of the inappropriateness of contradicting someone senior to me in so many ways, I nevertheless wrote to him that calling Gandhi a “saint” was unacceptable to me for Gandhi’s politics were dirty and he was ever so far from being saintly (in so many ways!) I also gave some examples. I felt so sure he would find it offensive.

But I was entirely wrong! Far, far from getting offended, he actually lauded me for my research and frank speech . . . ! I could hardly believe it. And then he went on to ask if I would like to submit a “hard-hitting” article on Gandhi to be published in his book Gandhi, Sardar, ane Subhash which he had just that morning submitted to be printed. The book is in Gujarati, but he said he would get it translated there.

Really, I had to read that twice before it registered. You could have knocked me down with a feather. Unfortunately, I had no article on Gandhi ready to be submitted, and I had to write and tell him that.

What an honor that was, especially for a one-and-a-half-month old, one-book, unknown author like me! I was sitting there regretting my missed opportunity. And then it occurred to me: why should I not write one now?

I dislike writing articles. Writing or even researching on Gandhi is nothing short of torture. When I read the first research book on Gandhi (Keer’s), I put it on my kitchen table and circled around it for three days before I gathered the strength to read the first page. That should tell you what an ordeal I find it. But that didn’t even come in my mind now.

I was practically tripping over my feet in my rush to find a way into Vishnuji’s book. I quickly asked him for a couple of days’ time to write the article. He gave it willingly. Then somewhat hesitantly I said, “How many pages . . . ?” It is my experience that one has to curtail one’s creativity into so many words, a mighty difficult job. “Write as many pages as you like,” he said.

It certainly was a moment to fall down on my knees and thank God! I even pinched myself to see if I was perhaps dreaming it all.

But then I had to get down to brass tacks. I decided to write a low-key article without expressing my opinion but letting the documentation speak for me. I surrounded myself by books with Gandhi documentation, ignored the sick feeling in my stomach that thoughts of Gandhi always bring and wrote furiously. It took me three days.

When I handed it to Vishnuji, he liked it so much he kept it in the original form, no translation into Gujarati! The book will even be released by the end of September and the targeted audience is the intellectuals of Gujarat.

Now, how many authors do you think get an opportunity like this? Most certainly connecting with Vishnuji is the latest Divine Intervention in my life, no doubt about it!

Anurupa

My Very Own Miracle . . . !

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! The day dawned finally. My novel was released. I had been warned that it could take up to 6 weeks for my novel to be uploaded on the various websites. I had to be patient.

The very next day, I found my novel on the amazon site. That in itself was a small miracle. I loved the fact that the whole of my novel right up to the end of Chapter 1 is available for the reader to peruse. I also loved the fact that the novel can be downloaded on the computer.

On the morning of August 1, I was checking the links after having Googled my name. I came across this one that I had never seen before and clicked on it.

It was a book review . . . !! I simply couldn’t believe my eyes. Not only was it a review, it was a jolly good one.

This was Divine Intervention in capital letters. How many unknown authors can have experienced this?

How had Paige Lovitt picked up my book in the first place? I had not even started marketing my book yet. And that wonderful, wonderful review . . . !

It was a very humbling moment—and I am not much given to humility. I call it an Act of God, my very own miracle.

So, readers, you can see that Divine Intervention exists, all one needs is belief in God.

By that I don’t of course mean constantly praying and asking for things from God. That according to me is a big no-no.

And there is more . . .

Anurupa

Oh Thank you, God . . . !

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Hi, Everyone! The whole editing process of my novel was a nightmare for me. I took forever to do it. For a while I felt I was stumbling around in a fog. I resubmitted it once again, and then I decided to do it one more time.

There was one scene that was really bothering me—Mohini’s death scene and also the Keshu-Mustafa scene that followed. In fact, at that point of time Mustafa had no name even! I was reduced to wringing my hands helplessly.

At that time, Christopher Manley was to come out and give me an estimate for a roof. I had been giving him the runaround for 3-4 months now, but the day of the appointment had dawned. Since my roof was in a sorry state, and he was giving a good deal for doing the roof immediately, I signed the contract.

For the next 3-4 days we were in constant contact scheduling the roof and going over other things. His customer was service was great, and here I was stuck over my scene. Well, before I knew it I had emailed to him the whole scene. Do give your suggestions, I wrote!! He must have been very taken aback, indeed.

But the very next day, I received feedback from him. That “SWOO-O-O-SH” was his idea. I loved it! He had made a couple of other observations. They were so perceptive. The scales fell from eyes, all in an instant.

Now I realized exactly what was wrong with my scene!

The scene flowed out now. Mustafa even got a name, so well did it go. This was certainly what DIs are made of!

This led almost immediately to another DI. The very next day, I had an appointment with Cameron Cunningham, my NY Life insurance agent. We had become quite friendly. Naturally, I told her all about this DI. Right away she offered to help in any way she could. But I had no more tough scenes. What I did need was someone to read the whole of my manuscript—and that fast—and give me feedback.

Immediately, Cameron said she would do it. I cautioned her that time was short, and I would really need her to read it fast. No problem, she said. And she did indeed read my manuscript in just four days.

Her feedback was so very critical! I not only utterly enjoyed her little appreciative exclamations, the little smiley faces, in the ‘comment’ bubble, but her observations were so discerning. It took me a few days to incorporate all of them, but it enriched my novel. Some of the things she suggested:

· Putting citations/attributes re Gandhi during the Moplah riots period

· Organizing my Author’s Notes so they would be readable

· Highlighting the dates throughout the novel

· She made me realize that I should clarify the Fatherland/Motherland difference re Hindustan. I was very impressed with the fact that she spotted it.

She also trimmed my vocabulary. There were a couple of words that I had been expecting to get axed at the Trafford editing level, and was relieved to find they had survived. But they didn’t make it past Cameron’s sharp eyes. With a heavy heart I removed them. They are:

· Sangfroid; I had to change that to cool. To me it just doesn’t say the same thing. But I let it go. It was better to use a word that spoke to the reader, rather than to me.

· I had written in the 1946 period the words “wrangling and brangling.” I really liked them. I knew that ‘brangling’ is old English, but surely (I felt) one little, little word will be okay to use? Nope! Out that went too.

So you see, how essential was Cameron’s feedback?

I really felt—feel—God was watching out over me. My cup of Dis was brimming over and yet there was more to come . . . !

Anurupa

More of the Divine Intervention

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Hi, Everyone! Finding all the books was no less a DI! Fortunately, I snapped up the books as quickly as I found them online. Some of them disappeared later—Keer’s biography on Gandhi for one!

My India trip, too, was scheduled long before I had thought of writing a novel. In fact, I even had my tickets in hand before that. That trip turned out to be a research and material collecting trip rather than a family visit for me! There were a vast number of books that I bought from the Swatantryaveer Savarkar Smarak without which the whole of Part II would have been impossible to write.

I count it amongst my DI that my India trip was so well-timed. I was supposed to have gone the year before, but had cancelled for a particular reason.

In this 2009 visit, I was hoping to visit the Cellular Jail. There are regular flights to Port Blair from Chennai and I was visiting my sister there. But it didn’t work out—July-August are off-season months, the weather is terrible, and a host of other reasons that seemed inconsequential were presented to me. When I heard that my sister’s friend, who ran a hotel in the Andaman Islands, vouched for the veracity of all this, I acquiesced, not wanting to make an undue fuss.

And so, in my visit in 2011 the plan of visiting the CJ was nowhere in my scheme of things. One evening, while having a very good time at my sister’s friends’ party, I suddenly realized my host to whom I was chummily chatting was the one who had nixed my CJ trip. In my (perhaps regrettable) outspoken manner, I blurted out, “Hey, you were the one who prevented me from going to the CJ!” The poor guy was quite taken aback.

One thing led to another, and when he understood what the purpose of my trip was, he said there should be no problem for me to go there. (Right there and there, I got the okay from my sister who would have to take care of my three kids when I was away.) He then made all the arrangements for me, and one moment I was in Chennai and the next in Port Blair.

Both my novel and I would have missed much without this enriching experience of visiting the CJ. I definitely count it in the DIs.

Anurupa

Divine Intervention for my novel!

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! And as I started on my journey of writing from zero (or was it minus?) position, I could see the impracticality, the improbability, the utter impossibility of it all. I just wasn’t going to knuckle under to that pressure, that’s all.

But while my head was floating in the clouds, I had my feet planted on Mother Earth at all times. It was clear to me that if I was going to make it, I was most certainly going to need—perhaps even a truckload?—some Divine Intervention.

I have said many times that I have a deepbelief and faith in God. So for me Divine Intervention is a reality. It exists. I am also ever the optimist; my glass is always half full, never half empty.

To come to the point, I am going to present to you all the list of the Divine Interventions (DI) that I was incredibly lucky enough to experience.

The very first of my DI occurred almost immediately upon my making tracks upon my journey. I knew I needed help from people who knew more about Savarkar. I also needed to feel connected.

But who? And how? These were the big Qs!!

I am (or perhaps was is the more correct word) a shrinking violet when it comes to contacting strangers. But I had no choice. I had been avidly devouring all the information provided in savarkar.org and been eyeing their ‘contact us’ button very longingly. One and a half month went by before I had the courage to dash off an email saying that I was writing a novel on Savarkar and intending to visit India in the summer, would they suggest someone to contact for research help? (I can’t put in words what it cost me to write those feeble lines.)

I got a reply almost immediately with Mr. Joglekar’s (who was visiting the U.S. at the time) email ID and a question re what my novel was about. I did give a moment to wonder why I was not given any contact in India as I had asked—but really, I was so-o-o-o excited at the info (for it was Mr. Joglekar’s book on Savarkar that had set me on this path) that I didn’t care. I gushed out a reply full of enthusiasm, particularly mentioning my intention to reveal the truth of Gandhi.

This time the reply was very warm and I received two precious contact infos: Dr. Arvind Godbole and Dr. Shreerang Godbole.

I was over the moon! Dr. Arvind Godbole had been Savarkar’s physician and Dr. Shreerang Godbole . . . ! What can I say? I had read his terrific article on Savarkar (chockful of details as his articles always are) and had actually wished that I could meet him and tap all the info I felt he had on Savarkar.

There wasn’t any sign of ‘shrinking’ or a ‘violet’ as I rushed to write him an email. He seemed most willing to help too! He turned out to be a savarkar.org team member . . . ! (what were the odds . . . ?) It was at this time that I read another of his articles.

Time seemed to stand still for me (I admit I have a melodramatic turn of phrase.) Every point he made (very boldly and satirically too!) was like a point on the plot line of my novel. He seemed to me to be of the same mind as me where Savarkar was concerned. Literally the words Kindred Soul came to my mind.

There and then I made up my mind to hang on to him for all I was worth. He was a complete stranger; I knew nothing of him, and yet I felt I knew him.

He has been of infinite help throughout the writing of my novel. It was he who pushed—yes, pushed (or maybe dragged, kicking and screaming)—me into translating Savarkar’s poems. I was sure I couldn’t do it, he was just as sure I could. It is he who gave me the opportunity to become a savarkar.org team member and do research and writing for the website. I much appreciate the opportunity of doing this for Savarkar.

I have dedicated my novel to him, Dr. Shreerang Godbole, for it was inconceivable to me to dedicate it to anyone else.

What is it but Divine Intervention that out of this whole wide world I should come upon the one person who is of the same mind as me re Savarkar?

More tomorrow,

Anurupa