My Poems in Lit Up Magazine

Got word recently from editor Mike Covey that two of my new poems are published in Lit Up Magazine. Follow the link http://litupmagazine.wordpress.com/new/. Lit Up Magazine is a cool journal of poetry, fiction and art. Check it out.

For all those lazy people out there :-), I am pasting the poems below:

Othello’s Path
Butterflies dropped dead from branches

Where they never grew

Dewdrops of nights that stifled dawns

Lay on your path
Or were they tiny handkerchiefs

Outlining a long sorrowful track?

White of course

Black with guile
Wordsmiths called

It green, envy

But when the foliage died

No one was left to pry
So, don’t walk that path dear Othello

Don’t wipe your eyes with

Those thunderstruck fingers, they’ll teach

You rage and us a loss forever to linger.

**
Bouquets
In very hot weather

Flowers wilt like bouquets

As do kneeling gardeners

But no one hears them.
It is fashionable for us to

Take bouquets - not words -

To happy or sad rituals where

No one deciphers the flowers.
We can shade the buds

But that may deter buzzing bees

Heavy with the delusion of summer

And the ensuing calm.

Let's HAIKU!

I am going to be a copycat for some time and try write a reflecting haiku in English for each of these masterly compositions below but without the traditional trappings and the mandatory seasonal reference. My samples will be quite contradictory to the lilting idea of a haiku.


Possibly the best known Japanese haiku is Bashō's "old pond" haiku.

Roughly translated:


"old pond
a frog jumps
the sound of water "

**
My sample:



murky snow
million footprints
searching paths
**


Another example by Matsuo Bashō:


"the wind of Mt. Fuji
I've brought on my fan!
a gift from Edo"

**
My sample:


the cry for freedom

scattered morsels
whither justice?

**

And yet another Bashō classic:

"the first cold shower
even the monkey seems to want
a little coat of straw"



**
My sample:



the last chance
a woman's voice
silence is death
**



Now, perhaps my compositions are really not haikus. But hopefully some of my readers will write a few for me to show me how to practise this beautiful craft.

DEAD COUSIN

This is a very personal poem... I feel infinitely better having it posted for my blog readers. Death, dying, decay etc. have occupied a portion of my mind lately. Hope to derive strength from my readers' supportive reading, so please do comment:

You shirt flutters in the afternoon air
On a clothesline in the yard, sweat evaporating as
You sit under the toiling rotating fan under a humid roof
In your undershirt, smiling.
From you boots (Ma allowed you to keep them on) drop
Dust and grey grass, scatter in the musty breeze
On our living room rug.
Ma couldn't stop exclaiming: boots in this heat, you must be crazy!

You must be crazy, I reflect now,
To take your own life.

We are your little cousins who stare in bubbling adoration
As you tap your boots and strum a lonely guitar
Sing with eyes eying the wooden beams above that define
Our human menagerie, outline the ceiling.

Similar wooden beams where
One day you would sling your shirt in a loop.

Or was it the bright scarf you wore one placid winter
Working on tomatoes in your precious patch?
We giggled around ecstatic in touching the red round forms
And squished ourselves with blood of fruits while you sung.
The tunes stutter in my ears
As though they were butterfly wings broken and stuck
Still throbbing with the music of life that wished to live.
So young, yet you sing of pain! Ma had exclaimed.

You must have been pained
To die while we still hummed your song.

You let me play the strings once
You let me touch your colors that kept you busy through night
I marveled at your sculptures so lifelike
Perhaps life was elsewhere for you, I think.

Love is everything, it’s all up there, you had said winking
Before you were gone that summer day, waving at us kids,
Shirt back on. We practiced the springy steps you taught
And howled to see you go, Hawaiian guitar and all.

‘It’s all up there’ meant nothing to us then
Until we heard you were dead, my dead cousin.

They had brought your body down, flower dangling from a twig
Laid you beside your friendless guitar
Ma told us after many years the meaning of your songs –
He was a child of another world, she said, shy and alone.

THE WEATHER IN MY TOWN

I finally, admit it. But don't hate me for thinking this way, please! I have been slow in putting up poems on my blog because I didn't feel very comfortable about it always. Perhaps because I am technically a new blogger. It's not just random people picking up my random thoughts and lines that I am scared of, but it's also something to do with my allegiance to the paper form of my writing, an old habit nurtured too long. Anyway, I'll try to be more forthcoming as time passes. Now, I wrote this poem up realizing I sorely miss the warm and humid weather of India -- the years I spent in Delhi, and before that my hometown Guwahati. Both the places I'll see soon. Ithaca has summers like Delhi autumns and winters like the North Pole...!! Hence this musing about the weather!

It’s musty in my town --
Not frosty
It’s a bit hasty
Like here it is gusty
It tweaks open buds early morning
Makes my shingled heart tremble
With it’s rippled caress every dawn.
It can be dry as rolled oats
With sand flowing under the nails
After rivers go for a sleep-full rest
Never to come back again

Like lost pets.
**
It’s musty
And not frosty
It rains as if the sky had forgotten
Something stirred its tears
Kicking up spiral mud where
Our ankles twist and slip playfully
And our guard drops like water
That wipes our dusty faces
Tired from running life’s errands –

Same jokes, same wasted tests.
**
It’s musty
Not frosty at all
Although winter can hoodwink
You into bundling up in
Hats socks and scarves entwining
As though we were trapped inside
Thermal rainbows, fuzzy and bright
Watching the mist roll up its
Car windows, slowly passing by –

A short-term guest.
**
It certainly is musty
Never frosty there
A bit lusty with bodies shining
In sweat and warm diurnal light
Gliding through the sun and moon’s
Humid corridors to where
The town heaves everyday

Without repose or rest.

Vote for my poems on bookhabit.com!

Two of my poems are currently in a competition on bookhabit.com, sponsored by the New Zealand Poetry Society. It'd be great to have my readers and friends go to http://www.bookhabit.com/competition/ and register for FREE in order to vote for my poems. (clicking on the post title will also take you there...)

Once registered, the site's users get to award points to the poems currently in the race. My entries are:

1. HULLABALOO BY THE LAKESIDE

and

2. MY FIRST DYING MAN

An advantage with bookhabit.com is that you can upload your own book or poetic work and wait for excellent peer review. Besides, there are a lot of other cool things you can do by connecting with writers and poets on that web site.

So please vote! Cannot post the poems here now because rules forbid me.

Writing Ruba'i

Of late I've been reading and practising writing "rubaiyat" (plural), an adapted form of the classical Persian quatrain, each derivative quatrain or four-lined verse called a "ruba'i". In Persian I'm told, the ruba'i is only 2 lines long...

The most famous example of the adapted rubaiyat form in English is Edward FitzGerald's 1859 translation of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. Another very popular form of this Persian quatrain is found in Robert Frost's 1922 poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening". We've all read it, haven't we? Still one of my favorite poems.

Now each ruba'i that I've written below are only evolving ones, because I'm constantly changing them and re-working them. It is not as easy as it seems, but definitely fun, especially when the rhyme scheme has to contain a pithy idea. Here I use the AABA rhyme scheme:

Brutus Sings A Ruba'i

From behind O Caesar, when I saw your trusting head
I imagined homeless folks, kids hungry in bed
Democracy raped, chasms deep all around
That noble moment let my hand, remorseless, strike you dead.

Shakuntala Sings A Ruba'i

If a ring were everything, a face, an identity
I should call my luck all but serendipity!
Thus I too have learnt to take a passing fancy
At faces like talismans. There’re too many, O king, in your city!

(I don't like putting footnotes, so I'll let readers find out on their own about Shakuntala's story and the reference here...)

Mobocracy – a Ruba’i

This is where you took home millions
And nurtured your unworthy scions
Those that hardly cared for a ballot to come clean

Or reach out to lambs eaten by lions!

(Persian literature in translation has engaged me ever since I was a child. For more information we can go to A Brief History of Persian Literature, by the Iran Chamber Society. Feel free to add more ruba'i on the Comments section or on your respective blogs. Will be fun!)

All Souls Saved

My Halloween musings, in a poem:

The day splits open like a pumpkin
Orange and sunny

Seeds are birds
They peck on dark leftover clouds in the corners

Clouds or souls that pine to leave
With night, fog and disembodied leaves
Dropping one two three
From the great white oak on the lawn

It is still slender
Yet to grow in girth
Mimics the dreams and mysteries this day
May bring or night may savor –

Brief passion, eyes of amber, skin that sizzles
And masquerades to waltz with the wind

A crazy reveler who talks to the dead
In a tongue that lives, forever lives.

FREE WRITING -- A Poem

The atavistic life of ancient
Turks or for that matter, Romans, before that Scythians
and who knows who else, is a testimony to the fact that human beings have, time and again, perfected the art of lying,
deception and inflicting misery on others who they (or is it we)
saw
as
'others'. This is so much like a road

taken again and again
and very much like what I read in Kay Ryan's poem last night,
that a road NOT taken is a road closed to all, to paraphrase Ryan.
The road is here, there,

everywhere. To me it looms
like blue elephants, slow and majestic.
Or it also becomes dry flowers that usually fall in concentric
rings from trees that hardly care.
My pets, my books, my dear ones, are all strewn
along this road dusted with my little deceptions, obsessions and disharmony.
What is atavistic?
What does it mean?
I can't even remember because I don't have my dictionary
or my thesaurus with me. See, how I deceive myself too?
I'm always taking the aid of these tools,
and to a large extent, my computer -- the Internet.

I war

on my senses, my own
memory. I keep them gagged.
And we as humans have been doing this over
and over again until some roads -- especially those that are NOT
taken and those that WANT
to be taken by so many -- are forever closed.
War, deception, memory
linger on like sticky cheese on fingers, making
me sad. Sad because I wish it were different.
But to tell a secret, it also makes me happy, immensely, to note that rigor
is a name applied to anything and everything.
So, there's a chance!

Other India Stories: Indians win 'alternative Nobel' --- some recognition?

I would love some comments on the BBC news article: Indians win 'alternative Nobel' (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/7647718.stm)

During my tenures with NGOs in India, working on projects whose beneficiaries were the under-privileged, most often the human faces that would stare us in the face were Dalits, Tribals and other marginalized sections.

My former employer, the National Foundation for India (NFI) does terrific work with women, especially the Girl Child, and their proposals usually seek to aid both Dalits and Muslims without really determining a target group only by those specific configurations. As astounding as it may sound, the 'other India' is still a humongous mass of people who are not only low-income, but also inevitably low in the caste hierarchy. And it serves no good purpose to ignore any dialogue on this aspect.

The likes of Jagannathan and Krishnammal, from Tamil Nadu, may not be overwhelming in number in India, but there are significant ones who work without any recognition. Besides, how many of our silent crusaders work in order to get an award? At least from my NGO experience I can say, quite a few even have to weather threats posed by unfriendly population, dominant upper-caste groups, apathetic government officials and other infrastructural, monetary and logistical hurdles. The award to the Jagannathan couple is heartening for those of my friends who are trying to promote the condition of India's Dalits, through education, direct intervention, awareness programs and even Internet dissemination of information.

Cannot somehow stop here without remembering Sanjoy Ghosh, who was allegedly abducted and killed while working on Assam's Majuli island (the largest riverine island in the world) working among the locals -- not all Dalits -- to raise awareness about flood management and soil erosion. Some say he was picked up by ULFA, a raging bull on Assam's political landscape. Whether that's true or not, we haven't had another Sanjoy back there, a testimony to the fact that the situation is still terrible for Assam (see Sanjoy's Assam).

Post-Harvest- A Poem

The CSMA Gallery reading on Sept. 27 had very few participants, sigh, perhaps owing to the fact that the Apple Harvest Festival was in full swing outdoors and people preferred being out especially after the nagging rain throughout that morning had finally stopped.

The good thing is that apart from poetry we also talked about different ways of getting folks to read and appreciate poetry and making it a part of an oncoming CSMA project called Arts Marathon where, with a meager donation of $2.62 from individuals, there'd be a workshop on writing 26.2 line poems, etc. etc. It's still in the process of being finalized. More later.

The theme was "apples", the meaning extended. Katharyn Howd Machan, first Poet Laureate of Tompkins County, read several lovely poems from her book Redwing as well as from a chapbook and her little hand-written diary. Mary Beth O'Connor too read some of her very interesting compositions including a great pantoum. Both Katharyn and Mary Beth teach writing up at Ithaca College.

The other participant, Ruth (I missed her last name), read only one, but it kept ringing in our minds. Some other people came and went in between. Later Anu, my scientist-poet friend came in, but she just heard the others (I really hope she reads next time...). Mo was there, naturally, to keep me company! My reading was pretty well-received in that small group. Anyway, one of those, APPLE PIE, is already on Sulekha.com and this other, I'm posting here. Suggestions are welcome, as this happens to be the second or third draft (I have a habit of going through several drafts):

POST-HARVEST

Japanese lanterns or food for thoughts?
Reared and harvested by hands or hoes
Apples – they hang over homely farms
In orchards from Freeville to Candor
Topped in barrels, baked in
Subcutaneous oven stores.
We mix honey and ginger
Proven wonders
Raised from other gardens of calm
Along warm shores
Just so the shades mingle easily with textures
On our tongues and embalm
A toasted taste for which
They please
Our knack for orbs and oblong treats.

My bushel is never full because
I tend to stare more than use my hands
And when it’s over
Others noisily sip coffee they dislike
After the rain leaves splashing on the window of
Little barns where apples clutter
Like dreamy heads.

Meanwhile, the orchard sings alone
Only leaves play with memories.

Katharyn asked me to repeat the two ending lines and said she liked the mood of forlorn. Mary Beth said she liked "Our knack for orbs and oblong treats", which I thought, was a bit heavy-handed.

(I decided not to post the other two because of magazine submission regulations.)

SHEHER -- the Tentative Cover

Guest-edited by Meena Kandasamy, the anthology of "urban" poems by Indian women writers has this tentative cover. Haven't heard if they were re-working it. Encore shameless plug: my poem will be there humbly nestled, hopefully by the scintillating Kamala Das (same last names, you see!).

Basically, these were my comments on the cover:

*the vertical view conveys strength and direct approach of the woman’s position

*that she is holding together what represents the cities symbolic ‘mammoth’ bridges, pillars/monuments/edifice… she is like the female Krishna who held the mount govardhana (was it?) to shelter the cattle from rains… (aw I forgot my mythology!)

* that her back is turned towards us. We don't need to see her face always, a face that has been over-abused in movies, calendars, posters, matrimonial (shaadi.com?) ads… et al. hence we don't need to know if she is good/bad looking, dark or light, shy or angry… whatever

* that the image also conveys a sense of control in the way she holds the city’s edifice and looks upon the spread before her. She surmises it, it’s her say on the city.

* her hands holding together or apart of the monument and bridge is very emergetic. She has the capability to change, that comes out well.

What I didn't like is:

*that she looks very ‘rural’ in the way she has been dressed. per se there is nothing wrong with ‘rural looks’, but here, perhaps a more “straight” form would look better than a swingy, ghaghra-wearing sort of form. Perhaps the artist can rework on relaxing this formative structure of the woman’s image.

*I love B&W but there is just too much black there. and the spotlight kind of treatment doesn't make it less imposing. Could a border around the etching work to keep the image in its lightedness?

* The title font (I don't think it is spooky at all) seems to jar a bit with the slug/sub-hed below.

Also, friend and poet Anuradha Pujar's work will be there. Two writers from Ithaca in the same anthology, ain't that cool?

My Sunday Reading -- Seamus Heaney

Apart from gathering old stories and articles (mostly written by me) I also read something refreshing every now and then. Poetry Foundation (http://www.poetryfoundation.org/journal/feature.html?id=182158) is a good place to go, and when I read Seamus Heaney, one of my favorites, the weekend seems quite good despite the gray sky and that nibble at the toes by a nagging about-to-descend autumn weather hovering outside my doors. Joshua Weiner writes an insightful article about Heaney's craft and how identity plays a role in shaping it...

Casualty

by Seamus Heaney
I
He would drink by himself
And raise a weathered thumb
Towards the high shelf,
Calling another rum
And blackcurrant, without
Having to raise his voice,
Or order a quick stout
By a lifting of the eyes
And a discreet dumb-show
Of pulling off the top;
At closing time would go
In waders and peaked cap
Into the showery dark,
A dole-kept breadwinner
But a natural for work.
I loved his whole manner,
Sure-footed but too sly,
His deadpan sidling tact,
His fisherman’s quick eye
And turned observant back.
Incomprehensible
To him, my other life.
Sometimes, on the high stool,
Too busy with his knife
At a tobacco plug
And not meeting my eye,
In the pause after a slug
He mentioned poetry.
We would be on our own
And, always politic
And shy of condescension,
I would manage by some trick
To switch the talk to eels
Or lore of the horse and cart
Or the Provisionals.
But my tentative art
His turned back watches too:
He was blown to bits
Out drinking in a curfew
Others obeyed, three nights
After they shot dead
The thirteen men in Derry.
PARAS THIRTEEN, the walls said,
BOGSIDE NIL. That Wednesday
Everyone held
His breath and trembled.
II
It was a day of cold
Raw silence, wind-blown
Surplice and soutane:
Rained-on, flower-laden
Coffin after coffin
Seemed to float from the door
Of the packed cathedral
Like blossoms on slow water.
The common funeral
Unrolled its swaddling band,
Lapping, tightening
Till we were braced and bound
Like brothers in a ring.
But he would not be held
At home by his own crowd
Whatever threats were phoned,
Whatever black flags waved.
I see him as he turned
In that bombed offending place,
Remorse fused with terror
In his still knowable face,
His cornered outfaced stare
Blinding in the flash.
He had gone miles away
For he drank like a fish
Nightly, naturally
Swimming towards the lure
Of warm lit-up places,
The blurred mesh and murmur
Drifting among glasses
In the gregarious smoke.
How culpable was he
That last night when he broke
Our tribe’s complicity?
‘Now, you’re supposed to be
An educated man,’
I hear him say. ‘Puzzle me
The right answer to that one.’
III
I missed his funeral,
Those quiet walkers
And sideways talkers
Shoaling out of his lane
To the respectable
Purring of the hearse...
They move in equal pace
With the habitual
Slow consolation
Of a dawdling engine,
The line lifted, hand
Over fist, cold sunshine
On the water, the land
Banked under fog: that morning
I was taken in his boat,
The screw purling, turning
Indolent fathoms white,
I tasted freedom with him.
To get out early, haul
Steadily off the bottom,
Dispraise the catch, and smile
As you find a rhythm
Working you, slow mile by mile,
Into your proper haunt
Somewhere, well out, beyond...
Dawn-sniffing revenant,
Plodder through midnight rain,
Question me again.

A Sulekha poetry prize

I don't have the audacity to post the poem here, I really never thought it'd be getting a prize. But Sulekha.com, the gigantic website that is a jolly pastime for expats and residents Indians alike as well as a few 'outside' voices, took a poem of mine and declared it one of the winners in one of their ongoing contests. This was a poem about my brother and me, seen through a very puerile juvenile pair of eyes, but no, really, I won't post it here! I am happy but a little embarrassed.

A couple of my other Sulekha poems are presented in the form of hyperlinks on this site. So if you find the one in question while chasing those ones, good luck! In the meanwhile, I am twiddling my thumb and hoping for more news about writings I have been submitting here and there.

My Red Hot Taiwanese Dinner

NOTE: don't bother to read this if you are a die-hard vegetarian or even an omnivore who's not experimental at all...

“I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.” -- Winston Churchill
“Pigs are not that dirty. And they're smart, strange little creatures. They just need love.” -- Shelley Duvall
http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/pigs.html))

My morning starts with a glass of orange juice. Usually I have a breakfast of a small bowl of cereals or a toast with cheese spread. Occasionally, on weekends, I may opt for an English breakfast of bacon and eggs and coffee or go for croissants.
On weekdays, later in the day, I usually drink two cups of tea with milk or coffee with creamer.

It’s surprising to most people that I tend not to eat a quick lunch, like others who eat fast food or just one sandwich or survive eating a salad. My lunch is normally a near-full meal, whether I am at work or in the university. Usually I carry lunch from home and avoid eating out. I eat breads or pita rolls or rice, vegetables or lentils or beans, chicken or fish or tofu and a seasonal fruit. There may be some salad included too in my meal. If I have to use up leftovers, I make a pita pocket to eat it.

With the midday meal, I normally drink only water. At times, I take a fruit juice or eat unsweetened yogurt.

I make it a point to drink a cup of tea or coffee in the evening, sometimes with scones or light snacks, what the French would call a goûter.

My dinner is usually light – a soup, breads or noodles and maybe some vegetables. For soup, I prefer having cream of broccoli, French onion, cream of mushroom or spinach soup. Again I only drink water with my meal. At times of course I break the monotony drinking Perrier or on rare occasions, some red wine.

I almost never eat dessert unless it's a special occasion. Like an anniversary or a birthday. Then, I have cheesecake or rice pudding.

My weekend meals are little more elaborate. Lunch has at least an additional course, as has dinner. Often I like to eat out on weekends. My favorites are Thai, Chinese and Middle Eastern cuisines. I adore Pad Thai, dumplings and couscous.

Well, having listed all of the above, I one day ventured to eat and drink something that I have never tried before and I believe not many people who appreciate diverse cuisine, would even have ever eaten it.

Invited to a dinner by my Taiwanese friends at their home some time ago, I had this once-in-a-lifetime experience. Knowing the Taiwanese have a very diverse cuisine, I had agreed to eat a surprise ingredient the Taiwanese commonly use in their “hotpot”. Well, it has a specific name for them that I do not clearly recall. I think it is “Zhu Xie Gao” but don’t recall for sure as my Taiwanese friends are not around now to tell me. Also, before eating it, I had no idea what it would look like or taste like. Our friends asserted it was arguably one of the best items one could sample in Chinese or Taiwanese cuisine.

On the day of our dinner, we gathered round a table on which sat a small stove burner. A large pot warmed on it, three-fourths filled with water. Kevin and Elisa, our friends, neatly placed around all food items that were to be offered in the hotpot once the water started to boil.

There were fresh shrimps, shiitake mushrooms, chopped sausages, tofu cubes, broccoli florets, shredded chicken and beef, baby carrots and corns, fish balls and the special item I was going to sample that evening. Soy sauce and vinegar were to be added at one’s discretion. One normally stirred the broth from time to time to check if the food in there was done and used a ladle to serve. One ate from dainty Chinese soup bowls (or probably they were rice bowls), added steaming jasmine rice to the broth and used a pair of chopsticks. I am bad at using chopsticks, so spoon and fork were just fine for me!

As various items were tossed in to the hotpot and we eagerly waited for the broth to be ready, I knew it was my big day to eat the “unknown” item. Kevin joked that it required thorough cooking and so waiting would be fine.

And then I was served the most delicious hotpot broth I have ever tasted in my entire life. I searched in my bowl amid shrimps and mushrooms and baby corns, and picked up 'the' piece – a dark red cube, like a red tofu. There it was, the much-awaited and curiosity-arousing item. Congealed pig blood. Cut neatly in cubes, a delicacy for several communities in the world. I put it in my mouth, in awe and trepidation.

I must make clear that before my hosts suggested I eat this surprise ingredient, they knew I was not only an omnivore, but also not squeamish about eating beef, pork, lamb etc., and pretty experimental about my diet. I wasn't cheated or anything.

So, I ate congealed pig’s blood, considered a delicacy in China, Taiwan, the Philippines and a few other East Asian countries. It is not a usual item that a non-East Asian would hope to eat, however avid an admirer of such cuisine he or she may be or however diverse meat eating experience one may have.

The reason I voluntarily tasted it was because I wanted to be familiar with the culture that my Taiwanese friends represented. Another flimsy reason was to break out of the mundane shrimp-and-tofu routine that most eaters of Chinese/Taiwanese food are used to. (Umm, I've decided to stick to that routine though!) Although pig or pork was a sort of taboo to my family, it wasn’t a taboo for me. So, I went ahead.

Most people I spoke to about my experience with eating congealed pig blood, reacted with astonishment and to some extent, utter abhorrence. Some asked me if culturally (and religiously) it was okay for me to eat pig’s blood. To that I said, for me any cultural experience was just fine, as long as it did not cause food poisoning etc.

Most Indians (my country of birth) reacted with visible shock and disgust. Most Americans reacted with disbelief (and some shock). Most East Asians took the news calmly.

Although I sound okay with that experience, for me challenges were many in the beginning. Overcoming unfamiliarity was a big one.

Also, it was difficult coming to terms with eating something I was never familiar with. So when Kevin explained what the secret item was, I had to steel myself.

Culturally, although eating pork is not encouraged in Indian society, I've been eating sausages and salamis right from my childhood. But pig blood? Huh, that was a different ballgame all together.

Let me confess, I WAS worried about the hygiene aspect of this item to begin with. Eating blood? Gracious!

The image of blood in my mind also did not make me particularly enthusiastic when I actually got down to eating it.

On the flip side, the fact that I did not actually see any blood in the hotpot kept my nerves calm. At my friends’ recommendation when I picked up the congealed blood cube, it looked quite innocuous, like a dark red tofu cube. It tasted salty, but it did not have any additional flavor which might be good idea to make it easily palatable to those that have never tasted it. So next time I eat it, I'd take the help of chili sauce or garlic to better the taste. Only if I eat it.

Having eaten congealed pig’s blood, it acted as a window to other East Asian cultures. “Pork blood jellos” or “chocolate pork” (as Filipinos call them) is a ‘normal’ food item in these cultures. For them, eating congealed pig’s blood (duck’s blood for those who do not approve of pig), was just like eating blood sausage or similar food eaten in Europe (hey, yes, Europeans have their own).

The one assumption that I begun with, when I brought the spoon to my mouth as Kevin and Elisa ran their commentary describing the red cube, was that pork blood cubes would taste simply horrible and spoil the taste of other items cooked along with it.

On the contrary, I found out that the blood cubes were not of any heightened flavor. They were certainly not worse than smelly bean curds or salty anchovies. They were in fact very much like salted tofu, a little harder in texture may be, but not unsavory. Cooked in that Taiwanese hotpot, they did not at all affect or alter the taste of the broth. I think though a little spice might do it some good.

Later, while reading on the subject, I found out blood may be a taboo item in many societies and faiths, especially in the West, but blood is perfectly accepted as food in parts of Asia or Africa. I must say, eating congealed pig’s blood and the ensuing entry to the uncharted culinary world of East Asian countries led me to research further on the subject of “unusual” food. To my pleasant surprise, I found out that not only blood, but also several other very unusual food are eaten in Europe and America. One can check them at:
http://www.weird-food.com/weird-food-mammal.html

Often we are too quick to criticize the food habit of the “others”. But think “squirrel brain” in American Deep South or “Calf’s brain” in France or blood sausages of Germany and blood pudding of UK. How do these things get acceptance? Conclusion: Culture must be seen in perspective and sensitivity can only grow out of familiarity and acceptance, at least tolerance. But let me end by saying I'm not recommending eating blood cubes here. It was my experiment, it remains so.

Obama Nation-India's Lesson

Now that the appointment of a Black President is becoming an imminent reality for the United States of America, I'm really excited. Initially, to be very honest, my money lay with Hillary Clinton. Not just because she was a woman, but also because she, to use her opponents' words, bore the burden of experience, experience nonetheless. But gradually, I warmed up to Barack Obama, or lovingly as I call him Yo-Mama, who swayed all the votes. I don't think Obama will cause a miracle to happen. Or that race relations in the US will straighten out overnight and henceforth black and white Americans will dance and sing hand in hand. I don't think he has a unique foreign policy to implement; he has already pledged to stand beside Israel in all of the latter's projects (some of which could be, in my opinion, pretty damaging not only to the political settings in the Middle East but also to the rest of the clueless world). But on the sunnier side, Obama can begin a chain of thinking -- that all Americans can be presidents, commanders-in-chiefs, top bosses and practically anyone and everyone that seems to generate shock and awe in their minds.

So if it's gonna be an Obama nation, so be it.

This brings me to an interesting fact that somehow, the notion of a Black President has never been alien to Hollywood, so what if the 'people' were not ready for one. CNN reports (http://www.cnn.com/2008/SHOWBIZ/TV/06/05/black.presidents/index.html) that on television and in film, black actors as acclaimed as James Earl Jones and as obscure as Tommy Lister have played commanders-in-chief. Apparently, if you fast forward a few decades, "the notion of a black man in the Oval Office provides ample joke fodder for comics such as Richard Pryor and Chris Rock." I don;t know all that. I never have been an avid cable-watcher. But I kind of like this silly joke: On one episode of "The Richard Pryor Show," the comedian's short-lived '70s variety hour, he played a president hosting a press conference. During the sketch, he tells a corps of reporters that he'd seriously consider Black Panther Huey Newton for the job of FBI director -- and nearly decks one journalist who inadvertently insults his momma. And when he's asked about his fetish for white women, he jokes, "They don't call it the White House for nothing."

Some of it continued in this way being a total caricature. I haven't watched the 2003 film "Head of State," where Chris Rock's president, Mays Gilliam, is said to blabber a populist lingo "glazed with hip-hop slang." Gilliam's running mate, played by Bernie Mac (hey, I know him although I'm cable-free), thinks NATO is a person and not an acronym.

Let me share a secret. I've watched on DVD, the hit series "24". That's where a black president is palpably respectable. Dennis Haysbert's David Palmer is as 'normal' as any white dude. No one reminds him of his race, nor does he evoke it because there are apparently greater issues like terrorism and bomb scares staring him in the face. CNN asks: "Will these depictions make any difference to Barack Obama's candidacy? Who knows? But what was once the stuff of joke and fantasy could be months away from being the real thing."

I'm sure the real thing will be a good thing.

All this musing brings me to another aspect regarding India. This is because like the US, India is a pluralistic, multicultural society. We have caste relations, maybe a more stinging problem that dogs our lives in India even in the 21st century. A journalist in India has raised the question: Who will be our Obama? He slams Dalit and non mainstream politicians for not being able to achieve much. Quite rightly.

Here's what I think: We had an Obama long back. Long long back in fact. We don't see this person anymore in that generous light any more. Perhaps we do. Some of us. This was Babasaheb Bhimrao Ambedkar, the architect of India's Constitution. To my mind, given that period of time when India was a new-born nation, Ambedkar's contribution is above par. Maybe it is even not wise to compare him to Obama.

As for Indian leaders today from SP, BSP and other political parties, no one has that stature. And it seems we are still in a caricature mode. Lalu Yadav evokes laughter far and wide with his ultra-folksy-ness while Mayawati evokes banter and 'women' jokes. The south Indian leaders are too remote for the so-called 'national' media but even they dwell in the realms of the absurd.

So what has India got? So far a lesson, at least, to learn from the US primaries.

Lost writings

I realize some of my published writings -- reports, commentaries, articles -- are no longer on the web. Some of those pages don't show anymore. So, I've tried plugging on this site some of those I could lay my hands upon. Most of those articles from my days at Tehelka. But several are missing. I am looking for the hard copies, they must be tucked away some place. Too carefully I guess, so I can't find them now! Anyway, this blogsite is also like a place to tuck away stuff, hopefully to remain visible.

Caferati Contests Winners--Book Pitch 2008

http://www.caferati.com/contests/winners?contest=book

535
Aashish Kaul
Title: The Ascension
Genre: Literary Fiction, Mystery, Romance
Blurb: The book is an experiment in the baroque style and seeks to exhaust the very possibilities on which it has been plotted, thereby offering the reader multiple pleasures, including both the romantic and the fantastic.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Palador
Tranquebar Press

540
Suroopa Mukherjee
Title: The Alighting Place of Angels
Genre: History, Literary Fiction, Politics
Blurb: A modern day saga of how nation's are built and what shapes the lives of its people. A tale of love and search for political consciouness in a conflict ridden world.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Random House India

555
Sumana Roy
Title: In The Dark
Genre: Literary Fiction, Thriller
Blurb: Nine writers, left in a dark guesthouse, find themselves forced to narrate stories about writing to help the “ghost” of a writer find his “murderer”. When the light returns, eight writers are gone. One woman writer finds herself all alone. Where are the other writers? And who’s this ghost?
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Jacaranda
Palador
Tranquebar Press

564
aditya kripalani
Title: Back Seat
Genre: Popular Fiction
Blurb: A one month deal in which Nikita (an out of work bar dancer) will be Shashank’s keep (a 22 yr; old boy with too much money for his own good). But she slips into love with his driver Vijay (22 with his own dark past) Will their love survive?
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Undercover Utopia

567
Sumana
Title: Eating
Genre: Food, Poetry
Blurb: Poetry, like eating, is an acquired taste. These poems about food - the familiar and the strange - reaches out to where both, words and tastes, live: the tongue.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Palador

580
Andaleeb Wajid
Title: Kite Strings
Genre: Literary Fiction, Young Adult Fiction
Blurb: Growing up in a conservative Muslim family, Mehnaz feels the angst of adolescence, teenage and finally adulthood. Dissent within the family, troubled cousins, and a young kite flier on the terrace force her to examine herself and emerge, renewed.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
HarperCollins Publishers India
Penguin India

609
Nabina Das
Title: FOOTPRINTS IN THE BAJRA
Genre: Literary Fiction
Blurb: Violence. Revolutionary passion. Change. FOOTPRINTS IN THE BAJRA is about a young Maoist recruit, Muskaan from Bihar who meets Nora, a student-activist. Muskaan’s transition in belief, aided by Nora, through a series of staggering bloodletting and self-reflection takes her to America, reshaping her radical zeal through her newfound love.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
HarperCollins Publishers India
Palador

615
Sumana Roy
Title: SML
Genre: Erotica, Literary Fiction, Sexuality
Blurb: SML is a collection of stories about clothes. These are stories about Emperor Alexander’s underwear, Delhi’s petticoats, Indira Gandhi’s sari, Laila’s bra, D.H. Lawrence’s wife’s panty, Tendulkar’s blue pyjamas. This is literary erotica, historical fantasy, in the end, only an entertaining story.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Palador
Penguin India
Random House India
Siyahi
Tranquebar Press

625
Diana Romany & Aniket Jaaware
Title: Take Back the Skies
Genre: Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Blurb: The twelve stories in Take Back the Skies are set in an unspecified but far gone future where the world and its people have all become more or less the same. These stories take planets, planetary moons, and make something new—and therefore strange—out of them.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Palador

656
Sonya Singh
Title: A Grave With Magical Powers
Genre: Humour, Memoir, Non-Fiction, Travel, Women's Writing
Blurb: The very first account of an Indian woman’s adventures while backpacking through India, this collection of tales and trails is guaranteed to carry away the teenager - as surely as a Grandmama - on a magic carpet journey of experiences and emotions they have as yet only dreamt of.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Palador
Random House India

675
Kavitha Mandana
Title: Cease Fire
Genre: Literary Fiction, Women's Writing
Blurb: Families tentatively stepping out of the cycle of grief; protective networks that move in to a friend’s defence; a woman caught in the crossfire while her children and husband battle it out… These stories attempt to spotlight the drama simmering under the façade of ‘just an ordinary life’.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Osian’s The Literary Agency

676
Shabnam Nadiya
Title: Blood Lines
Genre: Feminism, Literary Fiction, Sexuality, Translation, Women's Writing
Blurb: Shame, grief, anger, control, vulnerability, resistance – sixteen stories from Bangladesh that connect through the emotions aroused by the ultimate violation: rape. Through distinct voices the authors present simple slice-of-life reality bites as well as near-mythic representations of powerlessness, dysfunctionality, and even empowerment as they deal with the crisis of rape.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Jacaranda
Palador

719
Aditya Sudarshan
Title: The Honour Killing
Genre: Mystery
Blurb: When a young law clerk accompanies a brilliant criminal judge to a house-warming party in a little Himalayan town, he expects a pleasant get-away from the heat of Delhi’s summer. He finds mob violence, moral outrage, infatuation- and murder.Even the Judge finds it a little hard.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Tranquebar Press

733
Kavitha Mandana
Title: Inseperable
Genre: Children's Fiction, Feminism
Blurb: In this picture book for 5-8 year olds, nothing turns out as expected. The palace’s famous elephant falls ill before Dasara, leaving everyone worried about his replacement in the annual procession. One young girl has a good idea…but will the maharaja take her advice?
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Scholastic
Zubaan Books

738
Rachit Kinger
Title: I AM FREIER
Genre: Popular Fiction, Young Adult Fiction
Blurb: Setup in jungles amidst nature’s weirdest animals, ‘I AM FREIER’ is an allegory about individual freedom in contemporary society in which a happy-go-lucky squirrel travels across the world in search of meaning, freedom, and, ironically, a sane society
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Jacaranda

739
Kusum Choppra
Title: DIY ENVIRONMENT CONSERVATION
Genre: Do It Yourself / How-to, Lifestyle
Blurb: After watching all those loud talking netas gabbing about global warming and doing precious little, do you want to be able to do something about it on your own? Here is how to do it at your own personal level.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Palador

751
vandana kumari jena
Title: One Rotten Apple
Genre: Popular Fiction
Blurb: `One Rotten Apple’ a collection of short stories unveils the true face of men behind their masks. A Kosovo hero, a respected bureaucrat, are they for real or do gods have feet of clay? These stories, with a sting in the tail, portray the seamier side of life.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Palador

752
Sandhya Krishnan
Title: Mind Game
Genre: Popular Fiction
Blurb: It only took a question to bring it on. Now, there was nothing to stop her. From a million miles away she opened up to him, and he to her. Nothing mattered anymore. Excuses and misgivings. Assumptions and explanations. It had all been over 7 years ago. Yet, this was closure.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Palador

772
Soma Sarkar
Title: Off the Mark
Genre: Culture, Literary Fiction
Blurb: Feisty Mrs. DaCuhna, good-for-nothing Mark, garrulous Guru Prasad, mischievous Ivor, saintly Edna and others….Grappling with sorrow, despair, finding love, belonging, even prosperity. All come together in "Off the Mark" to form the fabric of Mettuguda, an Anglo-Indian locality in Secunderabad. Nine racy stories. Realistic and poignant, at times funny.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Random House India

793
Menaka Raman
Title: III Cross Street
Genre: Literary Fiction
Blurb: Ramamurthy goes to hospital for his prostrate and comes home with a corpse. Kamala sells jilebis that secretly spell out rude words. Thangam worries about the itch between her legs. A collection of stories that shows things are not always as they seem on this middle class street in Madras.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Random House India
Tranquebar Press

798
Pravin Ramachandran
Title: Maya Anthurjanam
Genre: Literary Fiction
Blurb: A tale with stark simplicity and through the eyes of a child. The outcome is a fascinatingly fresh tale..
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Tranquebar Press

806
Monideepa Sahu
Title: Rats! a Web of Intrigue
Genre: Children's Fiction
Blurb: Venkat appeared too harried to notice Shyam swinging above his head, or Rishabh digging about. But that didn't dampen Rishabh's spirits. Nothing escaped his alert, beady eyes. The dark teak paneled walls, the dim light bulbs dangling like Shyam from the ceiling, and the door to the world outside.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Zubaan Books

817
Bijaya Ghosh
Title: Tale Of Two Communities
Genre: Memoir
Blurb: Tale of two communities is a story of civil war; the war of Bangladesh, seen through the eye of an eleven-year-old girl. The liberation war had liberated her from a hard-core shell—the cocoon into which her family had withdrawn, out of the frustration of partition.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Yoda Press

819
vandana kumari jena
Title: Chimera
Genre: Mystery, Popular Fiction, Thriller, Women's Writing
Blurb: Manasi, the District Collector’s wife seems to be another Miss Marple, when she unearths the mystery surrounding her bungalow. But when the Vice Chancellor of Vishnupur University is murdered, being one of the last persons who saw him alive, she finds herself heading the lists of suspects.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Tranquebar Press

821
Nandini Patwardhan-Pandya
Title: Indian Roots, American Wings
Genre: Biography, Commentary, Essays, Inspirational, Lifestyle, Literary Non-Fiction, Parenting, Spiritual, Women's Writing
Blurb: This collection charts the evolution of the author as an Indian-American mother of two young adults, from an I.I.T-trained software professional to a proud member of the mommy-track, and from an amorphous seeker to an assertive spiritual progressive. It is a story of migration, but not of loss.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Zubaan Books

825
Shabnam Nadiya
Title: magic man
Genre: Literary Fiction, Women's Writing
Blurb: magic man is a collection of fifteen stories set in Bangladesh. From a city street to a char-island, from a university campus to the stormful landscape of the imagination - the stories traverse the plains of the delta, moving against and beyond boundaries of geography, class, age and gender.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Penguin India
Random House India

829
Prashant D. Rajkhowa
Title: Where The Hell Am I?
Genre: Commentary, Culture, Essays, Humour, LadLit, Non-Fiction, Popular Culture
Blurb: Where The Hell Am I? is a humorous take on 19 topics that don’t figure when you’re talking about living in India. It presents theories behind topics like vegetarianism, match fixing, women bosses, music, birds, emigrant Indians, changing surnames and why Kahlua is expensive considering south India is 80% coffee.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Tranquebar Press

843
Aseem Kaul
Title: Etudes
Genre: Literary Fiction
Blurb: How short can a short story be? Astutely observed, richly imagined and lucidly written, 'Etudes' is a collection of short, sparkling pieces that will surprise and delight you with every turn of the page. This is short fiction as you’ve never known it before!
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Penguin India
Tranquebar Press

856
Unmana Datta
Title: Soulmates
Genre: Campus, ChickLit, LadLit, Literary Fiction, Popular Fiction, Romance, Women's Writing
Blurb: Naïve small-town girl Garima comes to Delhi for her MBA. She meets Karan, a charismatic but deeply flawed character who draws her into an emotional quagmire she finds difficult to escape. As she grows into a mature woman, she gains the courage to seek her independence and her happiness.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Mills & Boon India

879
Kalpana R J
Title: Diamonds In My Blood
Genre: Literary Fiction, Popular Fiction, Women's Writing
Blurb: Urmila Singh Rathod is a guardian of secrets. First, her mother's, then her own, and now the secrets of a Queen, her ancestor. The story travels back and forth – present and past, from the warring Mohguls and British to the 21st century; a tale of innocence, valour, tragedy.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Random House India

900
Mayabhushan
Title: ANJUNA TALES
Genre: Literary Fiction
Blurb: The tide was coming in. Small gusts wind came in with sluggish foam riding the waves. A few naughty gusts tugged at her skirt and swirled it up and around. She was used to it. She was used to it all the time.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Random House India

901
Dheera Kitchlu
Title: MAYA
Genre: Children's Fiction
Blurb: A witch creates a dream that manifests itself to whimsical, wistful, dyslexic ten year old Maya, who dreams of a horse. The horse appears quite inexplicably, disrupting Maya’s hushed world. Her loving relationship with the horse helps Maya to evolve and claim her place in the world.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Scholastic
Zubaan Books

902
Anil Purohit
Title: Windows In The Street
Genre: Travel
Blurb: 'Windows In The Street' is about journeys, incidental events, and plain old meandering in back-alleys, looking for the everyday in street corners while stitching together stories, impressions, images and voices of people and places, revealing continuity of everyday life in the ordinariness of footsteps past windows in seemingly nondescript streets.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Yoda Press

913
jordyn steig
Title: Backside Bollywood
Genre: Alternative History, Anlaysis, Arts, Commentary, Culture, Current Affairs, Economics, Media, Memoir, Non-Fiction, Popular Culture, Research, Travel, Urban Studies
Blurb: Mumbai’s film industry reflects the city’s present transformation and prosperity. Presented through the nitty-gritty of the myriad forces impacting filmmaking, Backside Bollywood offers a simultaneously playful and analytical glimpse at the forces spurring Mumbai forward, revealing the human stories behind the celluloid dreams the city is renowned for.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Palador

921
Sumita Thapar
Title: India, My Home
Genre: Culture, Memoir, Non-Fiction, Spiritual, Travel, Women's Writing
Blurb: A 30-something travel junkie thrives roaming Indian cities, exploring mountains and valleys, beaches and brothels. From Kiphire, Nagaland, on the Myanmar border, to Kanyakumari, India’s southernmost tip, to Mumbai, she captures a slice of life among ordinary Indians: monks, drug users, women in sex work, the rest of us.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Palador
Random House India

923
Anitha Murthy
Title: LOVE IN BANGALORE (and others)
Genre: Children's Fiction, Sci-Fi & Fantasy, Young Adult Fiction
Blurb: A delightful collection of wildly imaginative short stories that will make you look at the world around you differently. Call them modern fairy tales, or, as one reader commented, Pixar meets Bollywood, this collection promises to enthrall and enchant both old and young alike.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Scholastic
Zubaan Books

929
Minal Sarosh
Title: A Lizard's Tail
Genre: Poetry
Blurb: 'A Lizard's Tail', which regenertes everytime its 'cut' by the multi-cultural and multi-religious influences - which is 'modern India'. The poet's struggle to find her identity by exploring myraid everyday images, actions and emotions. Its fourth dimension poetry! Surrealism at its best...
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Palador

931
Anjali Purohit
Title: The Deconstructed Retro Raagi Cookbook
Genre: Arts, Cookery, Culture, Food, Humour, Lifestyle, Women's Writing
Blurb: A serious attempt at popularizing an indigenous grain through a lighthearted analysis of its culinary possibilities. Less pompously - a die hard raagi fan, philosophy student, artist cum reluctant cook desperately selling the benefits of this much neglected wonder grain by presenting traditional and innovative illustrated raagi recipes.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Yoda Press

967
Mustansir Dalvi
Title: Iqbal's Shikwa and Jawab-e-Shikwa
Genre: Poetry, Translation
Blurb: Muhammad Iqbal’s most influential poems get a fresh voice in a language both contemporary, and immediate. Muslim angst at their perceived disinheritance by Allah, and possible redemption, so well articulated by the poet of his generation, is brought to the scrutiny of the multicultural millennium in this new reworking.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Tranquebar Press

969
SAJITA NAIR
Title: She’s Jolly Good Fellow
Genre: ChickLit, Women's Writing, Young Adult Fiction
Blurb: When Second Lieutenant Deepa Krishnan, a dynamic lady officer embarks on a career in the Army, she confronts a lurking enemy - the chauvinistic mindset of an all male workforce. Every day is a challenge as she must use her wit and courage to protect her individuality and dignity.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Mills & Boon India

970
Kalpana R J
Title: Flamenco Nights
Genre: Romance
Blurb: On a holiday, an accident tumbles Jacqueline into the arms of gypsies and their leader, Remo. Seduced by him, they share a night of passion till the real world sets them apart. She finds to her dismay and interest that the gypsy Remo is indeed Remo Romanov, her new boss.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Mills & Boon India

973
Rushina Munshaw Ghildiyal
Title: My Mumbai Kithen
Genre: Cookery, Culture, Essays, Food
Blurb: ‘My Mumbai Kitchen’, renders a colorful portrait of the food that fuels the food capital of India, Mumbai from the point of view of a home cook. By striking a balance between story telling and cooking the author offer food lovers a glimpse of a facet of Mumbai heretofore unexplored
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Penguin India
Tranquebar Press

988
Abhinav Maurya
Title: A Cure For The Doctor
Genre: Alternative History, Campus, Career, ChickLit, Culture, Current Affairs, Education, Humanities, Humour, Inspirational, LadLit, Literary Fiction, Politics, Popular Culture, Popular Fiction, Romance, Science
Blurb: Set amidst the turmoil of anti-reservation riots that flare up across the country, 'A Cure For The Doctor' tells the story of four doctors grappling with the thrill of their newfound affections, the burden of their noble profession, and the apathy of an indifferent government.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
HarperCollins Publishers India
Penguin India
Tranquebar Press
Undercover Utopia

998
prem nath
Title: Crowded Rooms
Genre: Humour, Literary Fiction, Popular Fiction
Blurb: In this freewheeling story collection, [Author Name], an advertising copywriter now coming out of his literary closet takes us into contemporary, well heeled Mumbai as it truly might be. Straddling several genres with ease, he holds up a fictional mirror to the city no one calls home.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Penguin India
Tranquebar Press

1018
Shalini Sekhar
Title: Flash
Genre: Children's Fiction, Young Adult Fiction
Blurb: Kaushik is the only kid in class without a wooden pencil box. When he realizes he must make one himself, Kaushik steps into a new world. The world of wood and saw, of looking and feeling and understanding, and of a clarity and rhythm he has never known.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Palador

1028
Meena Kandasamy
Title: Black Magic
Genre: Arts, Campus, ChickLit, Culture, Erotica, Humour, Literary Fiction, Popular Fiction, Sexuality, Women's Writing
Blurb: A collection of stories that capture the darker, dangerous side of life in India--teen suicides, adulterous affairs, doomed love, suicide-bombers, shameful obsessions. Stories that are sometimes told with a rare tenderness; sometimes with a scathing sarcasm. Twelve stories where black magic works. Dear reader, step into this spell.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Osian’s The Literary Agency

1032
Pervin Chhapkhanawala
Title: Adventures at Miscellaneous Shelf Four
Genre: Children's Fiction
Blurb: It is a rare instance when a child’s amusement is its source of learning, rarer when the learning is subtle. ‘Adventures at Miscellaneous Shelf Four’ is a book about books. Books that speak, plan, feel, tease and come alive, each with a distinct personality, stumbling upon explorations and escapades.
Publishers/agents interested in the above book pitch:
Scholastic