Writing my first novel

My debut novel, Waiting for the Dust to Settle, was finally released virtually on the 6th of November 2020. At the launch I (non)seriously mentioned that the "wait" for the book's arrival was like a painful birth! It was such a relief because the wait was long. Many times, I wondered if it was "coming or never coming"! It took many years (yes, 'many years') "waiting" on the book to see the light of day! In the end, however, I must say it was all worth the wait... For the record, I'm thankful to Speaking Tiger Books for publishing it. I write this to share my experience, hoping that it would find resonance with many who are waiting for their big moment...

But first, let me say a few words about the book release. I would have loved a physical launch – sign copies for friends and interact, but it was not to be. Given the times we were living through it was unthinkable. Nevertheless, the online launch was altogether a new experience and rewarding too, in a different way. And thanks to technology, it was good to see that many outstation family and friends could join, which otherwise wouldn't have been quite possible. Above and beyond the impressive remarks from a few (publisher, literary agent and others), I think, the line "Bless my homeland forever" from the song "Edelweiss" (a soundtrack from the movie "Sound of Music") sung by my daughter Debbie captivated many that day. It was interesting how listeners chose that particular line (as it rhymed in the chat box) and added a sort of nationalistic/sub-nationalistic flavour, in tune with an important theme from the book.

The rugged road to being noticed

Let me start by saying the book was not a "lockdown project". Many people assumed it was because it appeared during the pandemic. On the contrary, the pandemic even delayed its arrival by at least half a year! What many don’t know is that publishing in India is not easy. Harder still if you’re a debutant. Only writers or aspiring writers would understand this. Obviously, publishers wouldn't want to take a chance on you, after all, it's business for them! What is the guarantee that it will sell well? Besides other risks, the stake is quite high for publishers. I bet I would also be playing the same role, if I were in their shoes.

Of course, there is the option of self-publishing. And many are taking that route. The sprouting of self-publishing services tell a lot about this growing business. With a growing population of English speakers, the country offers a lot of people who think they can be good writers. I can imagine publishing houses piled up with unread manuscripts and their mail boxes spammed with proposals! And in most cases, there will be just silence, not even a courteous ‘no’. The wait can be deadening... I’ve been there!

One thing is for sure – it takes a lot of patience. And along the way, it is important to have people who believe in you! I was fortunate to have a few who constantly offered encouragement, otherwise, I would have given up midway. Believe it or not, I wrote the skeletal of the novel one summer vacation about seven years back (yes, seven!), and kept adding flesh to it for the next few years. Then I thought it was ready to be launched to life. So I started my “novel journey” by sending to publishing houses. But after half a dozen of rejections, I thought it would never make it. In fact, I kept it buried for a couple of years! However, a few persistent ones forced me to resurrect it. I owe a lot to them!

So, there it is – I finally got published! For me, in the end, getting published by a reputed name means that you are guaranteed of a strong media/publicity team. Unexpected or pleasantly surprising reviews from different corners tell me of the wide reach and influence of the team. Honestly, I’m honoured to be reviewed, even though some were not quite of a good taste in its entirety! Nevertheless, I take it as a learning experience and something I could keep in mind for my next novel, if ever I happen to stumble upon an idea! All in all, the reviews have been enriching, offering fresh insights to the novel. 

Who are my readers?

One of the most interesting reception of my novel was the children’s readership. When I started writing, I must admit that I didn’t quite have children as my readers in mind. On the contrary, I was writing on some serious themes which would suit the serious mind, or so I thought. Did the kids pick it up because it started with a ten year old Rakovei? Or were they appealed by the conflict situation mentioned in the blurb? It was my ten year old daughter who was one of the first to read it at home! Then I began to hear from various families too that the kids were the ones to read it ahead of the adults at home. I wondered how they were able to process all those stories of pain and anguish which, of course, were narrated alongside the beauty and innocence of country life.

In this experience, I also began to understand that often it is the adults who often define what should be children’s story and which shouldn’t be. I’ve taught theories of children’s literature to students of literature, but until this time I didn’t realise (in practice) that the child is often not consulted what her taste is or what would be suitable to her. Of course, I’m not saying that adults aren’t capable of making sensible choices for children. But children’s mind can process much more complicated stuffs than we think. They’re certainly much more imaginative and their young minds can certainly process subjects that might be challenging to the adult minds!

But this doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t have an audience in mind. What I stressed on was that there could be surprising reception, even from unthought of locations. In fact, I’m happy to hear feedbacks from various corners on some important issues that I had hoped to raise through the novel. And the reviews testify to this.

Why I write

Everyone has stories to tell. And I also wanted to play my own part – telling stories of what I’ve heard, seen and felt. And stories that I didn’t want to be silenced or vanish into the past. Some are beautiful and of unforgettable experiences; some are heart wrenching and violent. Nevertheless they all form a part of history that I thought shouldn’t be forgotten. I wanted to tell of growing up in a small town whose innocence has dissolved by the fast paced changes of modern life. And of the travellers’ road strewn with due drops on the blades of tall grasses in the woods as people walk to their villages. My stories are of the recent past, just few decades old, but with the winds of change blowing as fierce as hurricane, they are slowly disappearing without a trace. Worse still, they are being forgotten. I tried to tell a bit of this in my piece in The Hindu.

Let me end with a thought on the title. Most readers would be able to read into the word “waiting” and connect the many stories in the novel. The wait for a solution to the protracted Indo-Naga conflict comes as a major point, but there are several others that awaits peace – people as well as the land. My only prayer is that it will not be an endless wait. And to those who hear, I hope it helps you see things at a micro level.

My battle with COVID-19

It all started with body ache. I woke up to a terribly broken body as though I've been battered in some torture machine the previous night! This was 12 April 2021. I couldn't tell which side was less painful to lie on...

A day later, Ashuni was also caught. Same symptoms. It was as though her body was also saying, 'in sickness and in health'. We were told that the new strands of covid has several other symptoms. So, we suspected that we must have got! The next day, third day since it begun, we got ourselves tested. It came negative! We were relieved in a way and so considered it some kind of a viral.

But on Friday, 16 April, fever gripped me. Ashuni felt better. Somehow she recovered henceforth.... As for me, it seems to be just the beginning. Fever was becoming more intense. Upon advice we did Chest CT scan. The result was clearly pointing to covid. But just to make sure, we tested again. This time were positive!

 
Anyway, we couldn't really isolate. We have already exposed enough to infect others. Besides, the kids were in no way able to stay away from us, especially, the younger... she's the sensitive one. She could sense that all is not well, so wanted to give us hugs and send in love notes. When we wanted to avoid close contacts she would be upset. Thankfully, God's protection was much visible through it all, especially, keeping the kids from catching the infection!

The battle wages on:

And so, the battled waged on. Fever recurred every 5-6 hourly despite the 650 mg paracetamol tablets. To make things worse, the body ache continued and cough was adding to the discomfort. Sponging in between helped. And when you're sick you get lots of medical advice, most of which don't really help because it only adds to the anxiety... but the advice to lie down in proning position helped, not only to help my oxygen level up but also to help me sleep better.

 
The few days of my SpO2 hovering between 90-94 got Ashuni really worried that she considered hospitalization. Of course, she was also advised medically. But the thought of hospitalization didn't sit well with me. I couldn't imagine being left alone, unsure if I'll be attended to properly. Somehow, wherever she tried calling, whichever way to get access to hospital bed, things didn't quite materialize. Partly, I'm thankful that it didn't work out... and of course, through the prayers of many near and dear ones, my condition improved by the day...

Anyway, to cut the long story short, fever left after about 7-8 days, but, of course, after rounds of medications required to heal. I'm now recovering well, by God's grace. Though, after close to three weeks, I still feel a little weak.

Lessons learnt:

First of all, the weeks long suffering made me empathize with fellow sufferers. Until this moment, COVID-19 seems to be something distant. It felt like something that happened out there. But when it affected my family this time, it made me realize the trauma of what many people had to endure because of the infectious disease. Unfortunately, this time around, it has affected most families we know. We all know that the numbers are so much underreported.

 
Secondly, isolation is a luxury not everyone can afford. Living a middle class lifestyle in a city of Delhi has always been a struggle, economically. And when the government, or anyone, tell us to isolate if tested positive, it's easier said than done. When you don't have the luxury of having an extra room, how do you expect families to be dedicating one room for an infected person? I can understand when families are altogether infected, not because of anything else but for want of space at home. For us, it was made all the more difficult because we had the weakness of not being able to let kids stay away from us. But I also know this is the case with many families...

Thirdly, the timeless lesson on the uncertainty of life. It's a dreadful situation in India at the moment. What's worse, it could be about a tragedy in a family known to you!
The last few weeks of struggling with covid was more painful when I heard of two people well-known to me succumbing to the disease, directly or indirectly. One was a spiritual mentor through BSF (Bible Study Fellowship) and the other a member of the church. It was hard not to be emotional. It was even more dreadful to think death could be lurking at your door because you're battling the same... But through it all, I've learnt to depend more on God, because He is the author of life. What am I that I should hold on to life as though everything depended on me? It's God that gives life and He takes away the same breath of life.

Some concluding thoughts:

This section could be considered advice (not that I've become wiser) by those who are battling the disease at the moment or are attending to one...

 
Don't listen to all advices. Of course, medical advices are necessary. In fact, we were fortunate to have doctor friends who are ready to receive our calls whenever. But, I think, we have many people around us who end up being the friends of Job. Sometimes, some advices make you more sick and anxious about the condition you're in. In my case, I was fortunate to have a wife who could keep away the phone and ignore the calls to let me rest!

 
Eat well and sleep well. If there's one natural process for healing, that is the one! Thankfully, I didn't lose the sense of taste, like many others, so I could eat, though not much at a time... and sleep! I think sleep/rest is the body's way to recovery and back to health. Close to three weeks now since I first got the symptoms, I still need extra sleep... but again, this too is a luxury not everyone can afford. I'm thankful for the curfew that is on in the city at the moment!

My prayers and wishes to all who are battling COVID-19 at the moment. May God grand you healing in a special way.

The Peace Seekers

 

The Hindu, Sunday Magazine, January 24, 2021

I grew up in the small town of Senapati in north Manipur. This was in the 1980s. The busy shops on a 200-yard stretch parallel to National Highway 39 (now renamed NH 2) were all that marked it as a town. But Senapati was abuzz, and was even made district headquarters in 1983.

Change was fast-paced then. Looking back, life was like flipping through the pages of one of the magazines my uncle subscribed to. As they came from some faraway city, the news was quite stale by the time it reached us. But he would nevertheless enjoy reading the magazines. The enigma of Uganda’s Idi Amin and the notoriety of Cambodia’s Pol Pot fascinated the media, even though their stories were from the previous decade. I still recall the cover of one mag that had Pakistan’s General Zia-ul-Haq with a forced smile à la Mona Lisa! One day, all the sensational international news was suddenly overshadowed by the assassination of Indira Gandhi. I scanned the pages for news on the Delhi riots. But such stories still seemed very distant to me — after all, the Centre was very far away.

Closer to home, harsher realities were beginning to unsettle the normality of life. The long shadow of the conflict between the Naga underground forces and the Indian armed forces kept common people on the edge. A shadow that continues to haunt us today, as we still wait for that elusive peace to arrive.

In this chequered pattern of unease and calm that we lived through, a sudden twist would sometimes shake it all up. One such deeply troubling occurrence that I encountered at close quarters was the Oinam incident, or the infamous Operation Bluebird.

Fear of the Army

Launched by the Assam Rifles as a counter-insurgency operation to recover the arms and ammunition they had lost when the Naga Socialist Council of Nagaland (NSCN) raided their Oinam Hill camp on July 9, 1987, Operation Bluebird took an ugly turn when civilians came into the firing line. For the next three months, some 30 villages close to Oinam Hill village were cordoned off for a combing operation. Even the district administration and political representatives were barred from reaching the people. Churches and community halls became makeshift interrogation camps. Men were questioned and torture was alleged, as were rape and molestation. The fear was such that crying children would be hushed with just the word ‘soldiers’. Indeed, even today, just uttering the words ‘soldiers are coming’ is enough to quieten a child.

The events of the 80s and 90s made me seriously question the impunity that is allowed to the armed forces, especially by the Armed Forces Special Powers Act of 1958. AFSPA gives them the licence to arrest without warrants, and deaths and injuries don’t have to be explained; they are able to exercise brute force. The irony is that they were there to provide the people ‘security’, but that was the last thing we experienced. Their patrols and speeding convoys leaving behind giant dust trails only further distorted the discomforting realities of my home town. I’ve tried to capture those years in my debut novel, Waiting for the Dust to Settle (Speaking Tiger, 2020).

AFSPA’s shadow was darkest in the early years of the insurgency. In the 1960s, when socialist leader Jayaprakash Narayan, along with British missionary Michael Scott, helped broker the first peace deal, JP referred to the government’s handling of the Naga problem as ‘India’s Vietnam’. He was referring to the ruthlessness and widespread violation of human rights perpetrated on the Naga people. The horrifying scenes of entire villages burnt down, the humiliation of people running for cover in their own land, the pain of living in the jungles during the torrential rains, the trauma of seeing loved ones dying before one’s eyes — these have largely gone undocumented. But these experiences live on in the memories of the people. It is no wonder that these generations are affected with post-traumatic stress disorder.

The enemy within

Unfortunately, the Naga struggle took an ugly turn when the people found themselves up against each other. The ideological differences that had cropped up along the way led to factionalism among the nationalist underground groups. And, once again, the common people bore the brunt. This time in the form of factional fights that brought more bloodshed and trauma. While the early years saw the enemy as an outside force, midway through the movement, the enemy within grew terrifyingly large.

Today, this protracted conflict has not only become an impediment to progress in the region, it has extracted a huge human cost. While the Centre is pushing the government’s agenda in the Northeast, including its much-hyped ‘Look East Policy’ and its sequel ‘Act East Policy’, without political peace the economic packages will remain merely a gimmick to enrich the rising gangs of corrupt politicians and bureaucrats. And one of the biggest obstacles to arriving at a political solution is the continuing enforcement of AFSPA. As long as a sense of political injustice pervades the psyche of the people, comfort and peace will remain distant dreams.

I would like to believe that it is in this light that the government has taken initiatives to bring about an ‘honourable solution’. In 2015, when the Framework Agreement was signed with the NSCN, it heightened expectations of a possible end to the Naga problem. The media flashed photographs of Prime Minister Modi and Thuingaleng Muivah, the NSCN leader, both smiling after signing what was called a ‘historic peace deal’. The government issued a press release saying it hoped to “end the oldest insurgency in the country”. The government’s keenness to arrive at a solution was driven by the understanding that peace in the Northeast is not quite imaginable without the NSCN on board. The 2015 accord was seen as a culmination of the ceasefire agreement brokered in 1997.

But it’s been five years now, and peace is as elusive as ever. In fact, the 2015 agreement is on the verge of breaking down, with the negotiating parties again at loggerheads. After several missed deadlines, we now await yet another. And again, the question looming in the minds of many is this: will the agreement really end one of South Asia’s longest armed struggles? Or will it turn out to be just another agreement that fails the test of time? After all, over the past several decades, many such accords have been signed and have since bitten the dust.

Final solution

When things come to a standstill like this, I feel sorry most of all for the older generations, the ones who have waited so long for a lasting resolution. I belong to the third generation. I too wait for an ‘honourable solution’. Far too many lives have been lost, too much blood shed. How much longer must we wait?

There is a persistent yearning for peace among Nagas. Civil organisations and the church are actively involved in bringing rapport among the various Naga groups. But the wounds run deep and healing will take time. The emergence of the Forum for Naga Reconciliation and its call for forgiveness and unity among all Naga factions under the banner ‘A Journey of Common Hope’ is one positive sign. Another is the Naga Mothers’ Association, whose campaign ‘Shed No More Blood’ is also brokering peace among Nagas. Such movements are the real ‘peacemakers’.

I want to see harmony again in the land I grew up in. The people and the place, both need healing. The small town of Senapati has transformed in geography and population. The old photographs are unrecognisable today. I feel like a stranger every time I visit. Even the old highway has been buried to make way for an elevated road. The old rickety metal bridge across the Barak river no longer exists.

Does this modernity mean peace? A closer look tells me that the expansion of the town has happened because of the displacement of thousands of people from the various ethnic conflicts that flared up in the 1990s and at the turn of the millennium. These people certainly seek an end to the bitter past. I join them in their quest. And in their hope that peace will not forever elude us.