The Three-Stone Graveyard

The Hindi movie Raajneeti rekindled an old tale that I'd put on the back burner, not quite sure how to treat it. I have always wanted to write a story set against the backdrop of dark, roguish Indian politics. Now the old tale, which is actually a folklore from the jungles of Kanha National Park, had nothing to do with Indian politics, but somehow I managed to establish a link and come up with an idea :)

Now I'm not telling you about the story I have in mind, but let me tell the 'Lapsi Kabar' folk tale. In the old times, long before Kanha became a designated national park, a hunter called Lapsi lived with his family along with his tribe deep inside the forest. A man-eating tigress had become a menace in the tribal hamlet. After 3-4 killings on 3-4 consecutive nights, the villagers decided to send Lapsi to hunt down the tiger. For the next few days, the fearless Lapsi and his associates set up camp in the forest and set baits for the tigress, but she did not arrive. Throughout the nights, they would hear the tigress roaring not far from where they camped, but she never made an appearance or came even close.

Frustrated, the hunters and Lapsi decided to use human bait. Of course, that was easier said than done. No sane human being was willing enough to become a bait for such a ferocious tigress. Finally, Lapsi came up with an idea.

On a particularly bright, moonlit night, Lapsi dragged his wife to the spot where he sat waiting for the tigress. The night was filled with the wife's screams as she begged her husband not to do something as ghastly as that, but he would have none of it. Even as she hollered, cried out for help, he tied her to a tree, jumped on to his machan, raised his bow and arrow, and waited for the tigress.

Finally, the tigress did arrive, but not from the direction in which Lapsi was looking. It sneaked up from behind the tree where the wife was tied and, before Lapsi could see it or fire his arrow, whacked the head of the screaming, panicstricken wife. The force was enough to snap the wife's neck and she died instantly, still tied to the tree.

A devastated Lapsi screamed and leapt out of the machan. As the tigress turned towards him, he fired his arrow, which hit the tigress between her eyes. But she was not finished with him as yet. Before he could pull the second arrow out of his quiver, the tigress pounced on him with a deafening roar and pinned him to the ground. Lapsi's head crashed into the rock behind him and he passed out Next, the tigress bit into his face and ripped it out, while her paws gnawed his torso and ripped it to shreds. Despite the bleeding from the arrow sticking out of her face, the tigress managed to rip to shreds the fearless hunter who, for the first time in his life, felt what it was like to be terrified.

The arrow, however, was poisoned, and it began acting on the tigress. As she walked off, slowly, licking the blood that trickled down her nose, the tigress collapsed under a tree not far away from the dead couple. Before the sun came up the next morning, the tigress was dead.

The villagers of the tribal hamlet created a grave for the three fallen mortals and marked the spots with three stones, which were to serve as tombs.

Quite a fantasy tale, eh? As always, I have the characters in my mind (and the Bollywood equivalents who could play these characters!) Now, to make this into a political scandal story. :)

Some Ancient Names

Krsna
Kanu

Vshnu
Kunda
Nityanta
Evyaban
Uddiran

Shva
Girik
Ketu
Madesh
Vajrahast

Durga/Parvati
Amba
Sasthi

Lakshmi
Vachi
Harivallabhi

Saraswati
Pavaki

Mahabali-name of elephant


Bahuka
Nala (Male)
Kalindi (Female)
Kava (Male
Kanka (Male)
Madri (Female)
Sairandhri - female attendant in royal houses
Sambu (Male)
subahu (Male)
ulupi (Female)

Sahasram, it is

After a lot of wrangling, I've finally decided to base Sahadev and Asok in Sahasram. Other 'contending' towns were Rupanath and Kausambi.

Although Sahasram is neither on the Uttarapathas (main highways going Pataliputra to Takshashila) or Dakshinapatha (main highway Pataliputra to Supparaka port via Ujjaini), Sahasram was located on an alternate route to Ujjaini as well as on a highway that led to Southern provinces. The latter is more important because the southern route passes through Kalinga - read, Toshali - establishing the importance of Kalinga strategically placing a spy in Magadha, in a town that is easily accessible to both Pataliputra and the Kalinga intelligence, to which the spy from Sahasram will report.

Another thing is, the distance between Sahasram and Pataliputra is roughly about 90 miles, which would justify most scenes/activities of the story (royal hunting trips, Sahadev or Asok's trips to Pataliputra as physicians, Asok's escorting of Devi to Ujjaini). The good thing, also, about the alternate route to Ujjaini is that it is less frequently used, follows an 'uncertain' route across hills and thick forests west of Sahasram - this town in fact was a border-outpost town of the Magadhan kingdom - which makes it a perfect location for the events in the opening chapters of the book.

Kausambi came a close second, although I find it hard to justify why anybody would stop in Kausambi for too long after passing through more strategically important towns (Kasi, Prayag). The presence of these 'big' towns next to Kausambi dims its position, at least in my story.

Ten Years Too Late

Among the few shorts I've written is one called "Breakfast News". The true story of a heartbreak, of forbidden love (tsk tsk), good material I suppose to make a sappy bollywood movie. :P

It's her birthday today, the 'Vera' of my story, the heartache I let remain gnawing in my heart until...last year, around this time I guess? After my silly, stupid, awfully-timed confession last year, I impaled whatever little respect she must've had for me - oh how stupid, stupid was I...

Like Simon-Garfunkel sang, I should've just let the dangling conversations remain...

She got married this year. From the various Facebook posts on her page, in February I think.

I wish her love and happiness, success, and all the best things that life can offer. And yes, a very, very happy married life. I hope even the slightest stupid influence of my aching heart never reaches her ever again. Go live your life grand, Vera!

The Mauryan Trilogy

It's been five years since I wrote the first outline of the story on Asoka. Emperor Asoka, that is. The idea hit me after I watched Shahrukh's "Asoka" and was totally disappointed with the storyline. The vivid imagery and much better storyline of "The Last Samurai" was still fresh in my mind. That movie had the best war sequence in a period film, probably next to the LOTR one. Also, it didn't have Cruise and Koyuki dancing around trees singing songs. Yes, she did bathe under a bamboo cascade, but didn't sing "san sanana nan" :)

That made me wonder, why don't I write something like that, a fiction set in Mauryan times. I'll give you the details of the plot and the writing effort in another post, but let me tell you here, the Asok in my story, the protagonist, is NOT Emperor Asoka, although the story does revolve around the Emperor's life and times. The protagonist of my story is also called Asok, a fictional character whose life gets intertwined with that of the Emperor, eventually leading to the Kalinga War. Because of this namesake character, I plan to name the book, "The Less Beloved of the Gods".

Lately, I've also endeared to the tale of Emperor Chandragupta, grandfather of Emperor Asoka and the first King of the Mauryan empire. Doordarshan has already telecasted "Chanakya" and so I have enough resources for historical reference. So I thought, after I complete the Asoka book, I should write the 'sequel', go back to the grandfather, and write a story. Very 'Kill Bill' like style. :)

Now to write a trilogy, I needed a third story. After a lot of contemplation, I decided to write the story of Prince Kunala, the last (?) ruler of the Mauryan empire, Asoka's son, blinded by Queen Tishyaraka, the youngest queen of the emperor. From the ideas I have in my mind right now, that story has the promise of a lot of debauchery. I'll tell you why later. :)

The Power of the Narrative

In the movie 'Munich', the first target of Eric Bana's crack unit, about 30 minutes before he was assassinated, was addressing a small audience about the power of the narrative. It was an address about his own book - a translation of the 1001 Arabian Nights into Italian - but he was explaining why Scheherezade succeeding in keeping the Emperor captivated with her stories. It was simply because of the power of the narrative.

Now I dont have the expertise to decipher the power of the narrative, but to add my two cents on this, I have to comment on the movies that made it to the Oscars this year. Most of them, apart from Avatar, I thought, had powerful storylines. Avatar turned out to be a big bore, a typical Hollywood melodrama that we've already seen in varying degrees and versions in many other flicks.

The good flicks, with good storylines, include Crazy Heart, An Education, the Sandra Bullock film (forget the name now and am too lazy to google it), and Precious. Even The Hurt Locker.

Back home in Bollywood, I liked the Ishqiya narrative. The movie itself may not be on par with Vishal Bharadwaj's other classics like Maqbool and Omkara, but it did have a good storyline. What makes it even more likeable is the fact that Maqbool and Omkara were adaptations of Macbeth and Othello respectively. This story, I think, was an original from Bharadwaj's stable.

Man, even as I think of these movies, I'm wondering, these are the kinds of stories I would like to write!

No Shortcut to Short Stories

The weekend was part fun, part disappointing. After long, fruitless debates, the office team finally settled on going on a lunch retreat to The Great Kabab Factory. Good decision I must say. The galouti kebabs, fish kebabs, and malai jhinga (butter shrimp) are to die for!

On the way back home, I bought those silver antique anklets that Sho's been wanting to buy. I hope she wont read this before her birthday. Considering she wouldn't know this blog address, I'll put it down over here, nevertheless.

Saturday evening and Sunday noon, I tried to write and complete that 'short' story titled 'A Room to Himself', but just could not do it. Especially on Sunday afternoon, when each time I sat down to write, the doorbell rang! That stupid woman employed to keep the building clean kept coming to collect maintenance money, give the receipt, get signatures, and such silly things. By the time I got to writing the story, I realized I'd run out of ideas. After 1979 words, I realized the story had still not reached midway!

This is my problem with short stories. I just cant, for the life of me, write a short story. I've no problem going on and on with a novel, but a short story - even something as simple as this blog post - exasperates me. Abhishek and I have often discussed writing. He is a brilliant satire writer, and his Twilight Banter was pretty popular among the 'circles'. I always told him how I admired him for being able to:
1. Write shorts, with mostly nothing more than dialog
2. Make all of them satirical

There is this Unisun publishing house in Bangalore that is hosting a story writing competition. I plan to send an entry, and have a story or two in my head. Of these, at least one I have written already and posted on my blog (Which reminds me, I need to pull out that blog from the Internet). I only have to refine it a bit. Add some 'meat'. The other one, equally stunning I suppose, is still in my head, but not on paper (Or on a Word document for that matter). Same problem. The publishing house rules state that the story should not exceed 3500 words and my problem is I do not know how to write a stunning, thought provoking, story within 3500 words.

I cannot write abstract stories, like those blaft publications things. Nor can I write stuff with heavy philosophy. My stories are mostly simple narratives, with a conclusive...well...end. No ambiguities. On the whole, it may look like the story is simple to the point of being mundane. And no writer wants to be called 'mundane'! I wish I could write more complicated, thought provoking stuff. But then, that is not me. Sigh!

I need to learn this art of writing short stories. Since I plan to keep, for now, all the short stories related to Mumbai, I hope the forthcoming Mumbai trip will help me get a few ideas.

Accolades for a Friend

I was attending the inaugural session of the Journalism course at XIC, on a rainy evening in July 2000. The session was conducted in the convocation hall that had red curtains, banners with vintage calligraphy, and soft lights, which make your mind drift away from the monologue emanating from behind the podium, to a perfect world that you would like to be in at the end of the course; where you want that course to take you. :)

The footfalls of heavy-heeled shoes broke the trance. I turned around to see this pretty lady walk in with many bags, a scarf or two, and other such paraphernalia. Obviously late for the session, she took one of the seats that lined the wall, right across from where I was seated, in a chair by the wall on this side.

Five or ten minutes later, the sound of heavy-heeled footfalls made heads turn in its direction again. This time, the pretty damsel was stomping out of the hall! The whole episode was a nice comic relief. At least she had the courage to refuse to sit through a predictable monologue!

Later, months into the course, this pretty damsel turned out to be one of the brightest in Journalism class. We also got to know each other, worked on a few assignments together, and went out with other friends occassionally. I asked her once what type of journalism she wanted to do after the course. With confidence that I'd not seen in anyone else in the batch, she replied, "Sports".

Sports she did, after the course. Many months after the course was over, I was happy to see her on TV, first on Headlines Today, presenting news, very elegantly as always, about some tennis tournament. Then, I saw her on Zee Sports much later.

The same person recently wrote a novel called 'Running on Full'. Not surprisingly, it's about sport. "Men and sports", she once replied to the obvious question posted on her Facebook page. Today, February 4, her book is being launched at the Book Fair at Pragati Maidan, New Delhi, by Kapil Dev!

Just a little story about a batchmate and friend, who took the effort to sail towards the goal she must've dreamt of, like I did during that first session at XIC, and made it there elegantly. To the person I've always admired and need to draw some inspiration from: Tina Sharma Tiwari, cheers to you, lady!

PS: For this little effort of writing a blogpost, Tina, if you're reading this, can you give me an autographed copy? :D
Visit her website at http://www.tinasharmatiwari.com/

Check out Save Our Tigers | Join the Roar

Title: Save Our Tigers | Join the Roar
Link: http://gotaf.socialtwist.com/redirect?l=-724303126848671097521

On a Thousand Hills

In class eleven or twelve, I set out to write a novel for the first time. There were no personal computers then. I got a 1000-page notebook and a special 0.5 microtip pen - a fad those days - to write the book. Eventually, I wrote the first chapter of a mystery set in London of all places. I've never been to London but could imagine what a typical London street would look like at the beginning of winter.

Very Lawrence Sanders-like, there was a retired detective who was about to settle down for dinner with a nice, comely wife, when the telephone jumps to life. He is called to a crime scene to 'provide inputs', if not help solve the case. He retired, remember? :) So he steps out and at the doorstep his wife reminds him to take the gloves. November was ending and they werent getting younger, you know. :)

That was where the novel ended - at that first chapter. I had no idea what to write, no one to read the rubbish I wrote, so had no clue what to do next. Besides, as always, I was lazy. So that's where the first book ended.

I wrote a second one, much later in life, around the time when I was finishing my Journalism course at XIC and had left the TOI job. I wrote quite a lot of that book, I must say, however incorrect and shallow the first draft was. But that story was no story at all. Most of it was idle banter - could have passed it off as chic lit though - and so I gave up on that one too.


"On a Thousand Hills" was the first novel I wrote sincerely. I have not completed it, and the story has changed course dramatically since the first ideas that I'd thought of. Locations and situations changed, the characters remained the same, and even as late as last month, I've researched about Rwanda for the sake of writing this book.

The story centers on a couple of Indian origin, their family and life, set in the days, years rather, leading to the Rwandan genocide of 1994. I began writing this sometime in 2002-2003 and wrote 32 chapters then. Yes, thirty two chapters! First draft definitely, required editing, but I had a draft!
And then one day, my hard disk crashed.

In the 'Author's notes' of 'Shantaram', I remember reading about how the Australian cops caught the author with the book while he was doing time, and flushed his book in the toilet, and burned a second draft. The final one was his third or fourth attempt. Really admired the man for that perseverance and rigor.
How I wish I had at least an iota of it!

In my mind, this story of mine is still fresh. I rewrote eight chapters, but after that, nothing. Although I know what I want to write, and how to write it, I have just not gotten past that block to start writing again. Now I know you guys will tell me I should, at least for the sake of those 21 dollars that I spent on the books I bought from the World Bank Info shop on Pennsylvania Avenue, for my research on Rwanda. I'm sure now that I know more about Rwandan politics, society, and the genocide situation that my father, who lived and worked in Rwanda for six years till 1994. But there are several apprehensions that keep me from writing:

1. Who will want to read about a family of Afro-Indian origin in an almost unknown central African country called Rwanda (Not even Zaire (DRC) or Uganda; people 'know' these countries)?
2. Even if there's someone out there who would want to read this, would they believe in my story and the situation, considering I plan to write this book on the basis of research and one month spent on vacation in Kigali when I was in class VII, in 1990?
3. The genocide happened in 1994, 16 years ago. Do we have to rake up ghosts of the past? There are people still suffering in the aftermath of this tragedy. Would they be happy to read this, especially modern Rwandans in a now modern Rwanda, where things have changed?

I read this bit about the Smithsonian Institution while on trip to one of the Smithsonian Museums in Washington, D.C. It said that James Smithson, the British chemist who left a bequest in his will to the United States of America, which was used to initially fund the Smithsonian Institution, had never ever been to the United States! I, on the other hand, have been to Rwanda, even if it were for a month, even if that trip happened 20 years ago. Not quite related to my situation, but if a Smithsonian institution could be founded, I guess there's no harm in writing a book. :)

No love story here; no catchers and bananafish

Two writers, greats in their spheres of life, passed away this month. Eric Segal, the author who gave us 'Love Story', and JD Salinger, who introduced the world - and allegedly John Lennon's assassin - to an angst-ridden teenager, Holden Caulfield, in 'The Catcher in the Rye'.

One was a popular writer and artist; the other was a recluse. Wonder if they'll get together to write an epic in the other world they've gone to.

RIP, both of you.

A Little History

I'm three books old now. At least in my head. One of them was written 6-7 years ago, more than half-way actually. And then the hard disk on which all the 34 chapters resided, crashed, with only 3 more remaining to go.

35 chapters. All gone! I rewrote 8; the story has changed dramatically since the first draft. Right now, at age 32 running on 33, I'm still stuck with that story idea and another 2, but I must humbly admit that I'm still stuck with on that - story idea. 3 story ideas. Not a single chapter has been inked - or typed - even after having all these brilliant ideas about writing a novel.

The first book is set in the 1990s against the backdrop of a genocide, the second is set in history - way back in the BCs, and the third involves religious fundamentalism. So here I am, shallow as I can be in the diversity of story ideas and skillsets to pen a good novel.

I haven't given up though.