Category Archives: The Growing Pains of Burning for Freedom

Savarkar Sadan, the Perfect House for Me!

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! Before I began writing the Part II of Burning for Freedom, I worried over how I was going to manage the many characters I needed to include.

My key characters were: Savarkar and his family; Babarao; Narayanrao and his family; Keshu and Lakshmi; and Gajanan. Their comings and goings, the place where they lived, their conversations, their interaction all would have to be portrayed. But all the while I was conscious of the space limitation. I did not want to go over 350-400 pages (I had decided that that was a reasonable number). So it was likely to be an issue.

But when I studied the Savarkar Sadan—most fortunately, Savarkar has given a detailed account of its layout and of who lived where—it was all most conveniently arranged for me!

Savarkar had built his home so that his brothers, secretary (actually there were two of them), and bodyguard Appa Kasar were living in the same building. And the office was there too!

My description of Savarkar Sadan, while it may seem like fiction (so convenient is it), is perfectly true. What was convenient to Savarkar to run his life and office was very convenient for me in writing my novel.

It would have been a little odd to have Keshu running back and forth from his home (if it was elsewhere)—materializing from spot A to B as if by magic, if I did not describe the whole. I was most relieved to have one less thing to agonize over.

I should mention here, that Gajanan had a family. I haven’t mentioned them as they were not necessary to the plot (nor could I unearth much information on them). As I have mentioned in my Author’s Notes, I had to leave out several people who should, perhaps, have been included.

Anurupa

The Little Devil . . . !

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! Throughout the writing process, I have been my own worst critic!

There I was, in the form of a little devil—just like the movies, at least the Bollywood ones!—perched upon my shoulder sniping and carping at everything I wrote, whispering odious objections into my ears: why this? Why not that . . . ? Credibility, credibility, credibility, it dinned into my head.

What I wouldn’t have given to swipe that voice away . . . !

But even through the worst frustrations I was glad the voice was there, for it kept me on my mettle. It made sure I gave my all to the novel and left no stone unturned in ferreting out teeny-tiny bits of information.

When there was so much research I was doing that was directly connected with the subject of my novel—and my mind had been a blank slate on this subject, upon which I was writing fast and furiously—to be digging up obscure facts, that would most likely not make it into the novel was very difficult, to say the least.

Did I really want to read of the atrocious deeds of Brigadier Niell?

Did I want to understand the mechanics of the WWI? Understand the politics of Turkey around that time?

Did I want to learn of the seasons of flowering trees?

Did I want to learn how to break someone’s neck, to know what happens to a beheaded body?

No, no, no, and no! But I did. Strictly speaking, I could have written the novel without going into all this, but my conscience would have bitten me every day. I am glad I let the ‘devil’ hound me into doing the right thing.

There is, however, one—well, two if you count not researching gay molestation—thing I did not research. And that is Spencer’s First Principles! Though I mention them, since Savarkar knew them by heart, I am utterly clueless re that.

The little ‘devil’ started its buzz-z-z, buzz-z-z-z right away, but I put my foot down against researching Spencer’s FPso hard, that it was knocked right of my shoulder. Thank goodness!

And my conscience seems to agree with me, for all is quiet on that front.

Anurupa

Peacock, not poppycock!

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! One of the last ‘layers’ I added was incorporating a couple of my mother’s tips.

My mother had written to me re putting in a romantic description of ‘dusty roads’ and such things. I really wanted to oblige her in that.

                   But where would that description belong?

There was nothing romantic about the Cellular Jail, or the Moplah riots, or Mumbai, which was, anyway, a busy metropolis even then (with ‘dusty’ roads certainly, but not romantic!)

After cogitating over the problem, it hit me—the Sevagram Ashram was perfect for the description. I had not included any description of it, which was very remiss of me.

I rushed to my usual place: Google search engine. Studied the Ashram photos and inserted the description, with many mental thanks to my mother.

My mother also would have liked me to add a peacock to the Savarkar recovery scenes. She thought it would add a nice contrast.

I shrank—just like a wilting mimosa—from doing that. It was a very, very emotional scene for me and a frivolous peacock (in Walchandnagar that too!) didn’t gel with me.

But I didn’t want to let go my mother’s idea either, not this easily. So I went back to gazing at my manuscript hoping to see some light—and I did!

Fortunately for me, I remembered that the British had imported peacocks into Andaman, most definitely on the Ross Island! Savarkar himself has written in his My Transportation for Life how he watched the hens and the cows from block 5 after being discharged from the hospital.

                   Why should I not add a peacock to the scene?

The more I thought of it, the more I liked it. When I visited the Cellular Jail (more on that in later posts), I grabbed the opportunity to study if in fact it was possible for Savarkar to see a peacock from the Cellular Jail.

Ross Island, while close to Port Blair, is not near enough—at first glance—for peacocks to be visible from it. An elephant, yes, but peacock, no way! I was dashed, but only momentarily. I tripped along to the roof—very nervously crossing some flimsy looking wooden boards (would they bear my weight? I agonized)—and gazed at Ross Island long and hard.

I imagined the block 5 (it is not extant), imagined Savarkar’s cell with the ocean view—fortunately, I have a verygood imagination!—and looked from that perspective toward the Ross Island.

And what do you know?!! Ross Island has a peculiar tip that pokes out into the ocean, bringing it very close to exactly to the spot where block 5 must have been!

From there a peacock could be visible. The rest of the island is set at an angle away from Port Blair.

Anyone who wishes to argue this point may visit the Cellular Jail and see the truth of what I write for themself.

I can assure you all that my peacock was standing at the very tip of that tip when Savarkar saw it.

 By the way, I have been told by a blogging expert that it is okay to use multiple punctuations in a blog—freedom of expression, that’s what counts here, apparently, not rules.

Yippee!

Anurupa

 

Definitely not a breeze!

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! I have no idea how other authors do it, but soon after beginning to write, I developed a workable system for myself.

Though I have only two parts in my novel, for the research and writing of it I had it divided into more:

·        Andaman

·        Khilafat Movement and  the Moplah riots

·        1938

·        Hyderabad Civil Disobedience Movement

·        1944 to 1946

·        Noakhali

·        Partition

·        Gandhi-murder

I first read all books and online information connected to the specific topic. I underlined important paragraphs. I even scribbled in the margins—this did not do me any good for rarely could I understand my scribbles!  But it satisfied some need.

Then I read the books over. I prepared a time-line chart—many thanks to all those websites which give calendars for the historical years, including information like phases of the moon!—indicating which incident was coming where and noting the book and page number where it occurred.

I read the books over again, this time sticking to the parts I had picked.

Then I thought about the scenes, until they appeared like a movie in my head. If only one could transfer thoughts onto paper in a magical way, writing the book would have been a snap!

I found out the hard way, there is a world of a difference between seeing the scenes in my mind’s eye and penning them on paper (or rather Microsoft Word).

Even so, I did need to see them so before I could move on. Then I surrounded myself with all the books (open to the pages required for the particular scene I was writing) I needed, referring to them for each and every scene as I wrote. Since all incidents and facts are true, this was critical.

With this my first ‘layer’ was ready.

‘Layer’ is the name I have given to all stages of writing the scenes. When the first layer of the scenes was ready, I would study it to see what information needed to be added.

To give an example: in Savarkar’s recovery scene, I studied and collected information on flowers that bloomed in that season. I did not want the flowers to be out-of-tune. I added those in the next ‘layer.’

I have a dialogue re ‘the sugar-coated bitter pill.’ I had to go to Google and check and see if indeed sugar-coated pills were available in 1920 . . . ! Fortunately, they were.

When all such layers were added, my first draft was ready. After that I edited, trimmed, revised only a million times or so.

The writing was not a breeze by any means, but with this organized process I got a grip on it.

Anurupa

Saved by my books . . . !

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! I shall give an instance why I call my book-buying decision a life-saver.

Picture the scene: I had been editing—and re-editing—my manuscript forever. I had already re-submitted it to Trafford twice. There should have been no more corrections—in an ideal world. But alas! That was not the case. My greatest fear was that there would be at least some tiny fact I had not double-triple checked. Cold fingers clutched my heart daily at the thought.

I had read my manuscript so many times . . . ! I felt I would scream if I had to do it once more—and yet read it I did.

It was while my tired eyes were scanning the pages—for the last time, I prayed to God fervently—that my eyes fell upon the words ‘550 Princely States.’ These words I had written many months ago and had not bothered me for the ‘n’ number of times that I had read the manuscript.

But that day, I couldn’t move on. Just where had I got that number 550 from? This was the question that started buzzing in my brain.

It was past 10 p.m., z-z land was beckoning invitingly. But there was no resting for me. I went quickly to another life-saver—the Google search engine. To my horror a variety of numbers popped up for the Princely States, but not a one was 550!

                   What now?

This is where my books came in handy. I rushed to the six or seven books that had likely coughed up that number for me. I perused once—twice—and again, but with no luck.

It was another of those moments when I could sink my head in my hands and cry.

Just in time a ray of hope shone through the darkness before my eyes. Along with the books I needed for my novel, I had also bought several books that I didn’t need but thought would be interesting to own. One such was V. P. Menon’s The Story of the Integration of the Indian States. I started hunting for the book in the sea of books that I have and found it after a few tense moments.

Finally, I found the number of the Princely States in there—562! V. P. Menon’s word was good enough for me and I duly made the changes in my manuscript.

But the horror of the close-call has not yet left me, I can tell you. Saved by my books I was, for sure!

Toodle-oo,

Anurupa

If Mahomet will not go to the mountain . . .

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! I am a book-worm. I love to read, though I am a hard-to-please, picky reader. But before beginning research for this novel, I had read only for pleasure, or out of interest.

Even though I lapped up non-fiction books (Zecharia Sitchin is a great favorite of mine and so are books on the Great Pyramid of Giza), I had never made an attempt to make notes or keep track of the material I was reading.

So this was my maiden research venture as well. I was well aware of my shortcomings in doing research:

·       As I have mentioned time and again, I am a widow, a single-mom of three school-going children. When I first started writing the novel, they were 11, 9, and 6 years of age. My schedule revolved around their hours.

·       Taking notes and referring to them was too tedious for me.

·       Keeping facts and figures in my head and spouting them out at will when I need them is not one of my strengths.

·       I needed a vast number of books for the research.

While we have wonderful libraries here (and I absolutely swear by the U.S. libraries and their inter-library-loan system), going there and spending hours and hours taking notes was not practical for me.

It was woefully apparent to me that my Mahomet was not going to make it to the mountain! The mountain would have to come to me.

There and then I decided that I would buy every book I needed for the research. That was the only way I could have access to the books at a moment’s notice.

                   Taking the decision was all very well, but were the books              available?

Yes, yes, yes . . .! It is truly amazing how some websites are dedicated to providing rare books. It is truly amazing how writers are writing on every topic imaginable. I was never disappointed! Any obscure subject I thought of—judicial system in the British Raj, for one; prisons in the British Raj, for another—and at least one person has written a book on it.

My favorite website for buying the books was www.biblio.com  They offered reasonable prices and had a very organized way of keeping track of my vast orders. A tip: if you find an out-of-print book you really want, snap it up. They disappear fast!

I was able to acquire all the Savarkar books in Marathi from the Savarkar Smarak in Mumbai. Without these my research—and so, naturally, my novel—would have been incomplete.

I do actually own all the books in that long list of reference books at the end of Burning for Freedom and many more besides.

This decision, though somewhat expensive, has been a lifer-saver for me in writing my novel. More on that next time.

Pip-pip.

Anurupa

Dialogue Dilemma . . .

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! I have written re the breakdown of Savarkar in 2011. I was so determined on writing those scenes that I jumped in with both feet, eyes closed. But in 2009, when I first wrote Savarkar scenes in the Cellular Jail, it was another story!

My knees were knocking together at the idea of writing dialogues for Savarkar then. How couldI dare to do such a thing? It was a sacrilege . . . !  Whatcolossal audacity on my part . . . ! Such were the admonishments my mind was beating into my brain. The Quivering Jelly (mentioned in the first post)—so happily in abeyance for a while now—was about to be resurrected, I do believe.

How could I write a novel on Savarkar, if I didn’t have the gumption to write dialogues for him . . . ?

It was this thought, and only this thought, that gave me the courage to give the QJ the boot, before she quite took root. I bent my mind to the problem and the solution was not far away!

In his book My Transportation for Life, written re his experience in the Indian jails, Savarkar has very frankly revealed many of his thoughts and feelings. It is a wonderful book to read. I did a deep study of this book, made a selection of his various thoughts scattered throughout the book and rendered them in a dialogue form.

It was not easy by any means, but it was possible. In 2011, after completing the manuscript —by which time I was very comfortable writing Savarkar’s dialogues—I went back and revamped them all.

And now, not only I am going to start my next novel on “Savarkar in London”, but I have every intention of writing little anecdotes of Savarkar, perhaps in a story form, in my blog posts.

There are somany interesting Savarkar snippets, but all are written in Marathi. I shall be digging them up and putting them before you all.

Toodle-oo

Anurupa

An offering in the freedom pyre . . . !

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! In the readers’ journey through the Burning for Freedom, I want them to go through the same myriad of emotions as I did, as Savarkar’s larger-than-life personality, his staunch principles, his amazing deeds, and the gross injustice, all unfold before their eyes.

Do forgive me, for I shall digress here for a moment. Talking of Savarkar’s amazing deeds, do check out the link below. It gives an account I have written (Part I and II) of Savarkar’s unbelievable escape from the porthole of the SS Morea on the morning of July 8, 1910.

http://www.savarkar.org/en/armed-revolution/historic-leap-marseilles/savarkar-great-escape-recreated

Among what moved me terribly was Savarkar’s breakdown in 1946, right from the first biography I read. It is mostly hushed up (I had my work cut out to collect the meager facts that are available.) I can understand why perfectly. There is so much undeserved and unwarranted mud-slinging—which I shall address one by one, in future posts—going on re Savarkar that those devoted to him do not want to add to the pot.

A mental breakdown—certainly in the years gone by and even, perhaps, today—is looked upon as a stigma by Indians in general. Which Savarkarite will want that period of Savarkar’s life to be highlighted?

And yet I chose to do just that! For me Savarkar’s breakdown is not a stigma. Never!

It was his ultimate offering on the freedom-pyre.

He ground himself to dust for love of his country, fighting for her (and then the country or rather her free Government burnt him to ashes . . . !) Not writing about it, would be belittling that, I felt. Given certain circumstances—and Savarkar’s were certainly excruciatingly horrendous—anyone’s mind can cave in. Let no one think they are immune!

The depth and strength of Savarkar’s character lies in the fact that he pulled himself out of it—in a short three months period or so! That is very, very difficult to do.

That I was going to highlight it in my novel was definite.

But how?

Fortunately (if I may put it like that), I have personal experience of a very deeply hurting mind. I had to pluck out those emotions from my heart and soul to write the scenes.

A mental breakdown cannot be a pretty thing—to write about Savarkar’s was a harrowing experience for me. I cried through the writing of it. I was quite an emotional wreck after it was written.

Some may think it was presumptuous of me to dare to peek into and write of Savarkar’s mind, but as the writer of Burning for Freedom—a novel written to showcase Savarkar to the world—it was unavoidable.

Anurupa

Damu, oh Damu . . . !

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! Three-quarters of the way through writing Keshu’s story, I realized that I had (most fortunately for my novel) an aptitude to give body to characters.

Now, to some this may sound like blowing my own trumpet. To them I say: if one doesn’t have the ability to recognize one’s strength, it is difficult, if not impossible, to succeed!

Anyway, two characters in particular (besides Keshu) stood out in my mind: Rajaram Damle, an incidental character of whom I grew quite fond and Damu, who developed to be veryendearing.

Rajaram presented no problem, on the other hand Damu had me cutting circles at yet another crossroad in my novel’s path. It wasn’t necessary for my plot that Damu die, his escape was enough. But the way his character developed, the attachment the reader was likely to develop toward him, made his death essential for my novel.

Otherwise, I would have had to go off on a tangent, to show what Damu was up to after Keshu’s arrest. He would have to have a role through the rest of the novel, too—the reader would have expected it. That would never do. Savarkar and Keshu had to be the focus of the novel.

And so, Damu had to go. I hated to do it. I even grieved, believe it or not. But the decision was taken (after a week or so of dithering). Damu’s death scene was a verydifficult one to write.

You must all be wondering why I am blathering on and on about what is essentially a prequel to the Burning for Freedom. But for me the journey began there.

Happily for you all, in the next post I shall take a big leap and write re Savarkar’s breakdown and recovery—a very difficult and challenging chapter in Burning for Freedom.

Until then,

Anurupa

What’s in a name?

Posted on by Anurupa

Hi, Everyone! I thoroughly agree with Shakespeare’s quote:

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet.”

When one is a target of name-calling, it is certainly very apt. But when it comes to identity, it is entirely another matter.

Most certainly I am particular re my own name (and those of my kids) and what short-forms of it I shall tolerate. When it came to novel characters, too, I fought tooth and nail—with myself—to avoid changing any names. As you may have realized, I have the same passionate attachment to my characters’ names as to my own.

The dilemma re Keshu I have put before you already. Unfortunately, I had to change the name of Madhavrao’s wife too. It was entirely my fault that I found myself in this situation. I could have kicked myself, but what good was that going to do?

I had fixed on ‘Shantabai’ as being the name of Madhavrao’s wife. She developed into quite a character.

Up until beginning the research and writing of Part II, Narayanrao’s (Savarkar’s younger brother’s) wife had not impinged upon my consciousness. When I read her biography, though, I was most impressed. What a wonderful woman—so gutsy and courageous! She went through so many indignities and horrors as a Savarkar, but came out spirit undaunted.

The scene in 1948—though it may read like my imagination—is entirely true and recorded in her biography.

But naturally she had to have a role in my novel. That is when her name registered—Shantabai . . . !

Now I had two women with strong characters, who were named ‘Shantabai’ in my novel—but one was fictional.

Obviously, the fictional name had to go. The non-Indian reader had enough to grapple with the unfamiliar Indian names without me adding to the problem. (I have to admit, I resisted the change—didn’t change Madhavrao’s wife’s name until the very end, in fact.)

No name was clicking with me. But when I came upon the name Radha, I really took to it. And the switch from ‘Shantabai’ to ‘Radhabai’ was quite painless for me.

Much later I realized why.

I am a deep believer of the Bhagawad Gita and Krishna (though I am not much into temple-going or idol worship.) This fact has revealed itself in my novel.

·         Keshav: Krishna’s name

Lakshmi: Goddess of Wealth, Krishna’s wife

·         Madhav: also Krishna’s name

Radha: Krishna’s childhood friend and lover.

I do think now, that I settled on the names Keshav-Madhav originally (without conscious thought) from the devotional song: “Keshava, Madhava, tujha namatre godva.” It is one of my favorites.

In such ways does writing reveal one’s soul. I have always believed that it would. That was one reason why I had sworn never to write! If it wasn’t for Savarkar, and my need to showcase him to the world, I would never have broken this vow.

Indeed, for this novel I have delved into the depth of my soul and wrung it inside-out—only for Savarkar.

Anurupa