Fiza Pathan's Blog - Posts Tagged "nirmala-the-mud-blossom"
Cover Reveal: Nirmala: The Mud Blossom ~ Crying Out To Your Heart
Coming soon . . . Nirmala: The Mud Blossom by Fiza Pathan
There is a difference between the cry of the cock and the bleating of a young lamb. There also is a difference between the gaze of the wise owl and the stare of the fanged serpent. In this same way, I, too, am different from you.
There is a difference between the blood shed on the battlefield and the blood drawn out by the physician’s needle. There also is a difference between the hot sandy desert of Arabia and the cold bleakness of the Arctic. In this same way, I, too, am different from you.
You were born in a hospital, and your mother took you into her arms gently, as if you were a toy made of china glass. Your father washed his hands thrice before he even touched your cheeks and looked into your eyes, fantasizing about whose eyes you’d received—your father’s jet black eyes or your mother’s honey brown ones.
This is the difference between you, dear reader, and me, for your family took you home after you were born . . . whereas mine dumped me into a dustbin near the clinic where I was born, all because I was a girl.
Unwanted by all, my dreams were snuffed out on the footpath that led to the dark world of gender differentiation. In dirt did I find my solace. In the filth of the slum did I find my home.
My name is Nirmala Acharya, and I was rejected by my society because I was born a female. The pain of being unwanted has scarred my flesh as deeply as the daily beltings I received. My clothes smell of human excreta and my hair is filled with knots and lice. But on the inside, I’m just like you. The sad thing is, it doesn’t really matter what’s inside of me, because I was born all wrong on the outside. I’m just a girl.
I study, too, you know. I've got books and pencils and stuff, but do you know where I study? I study under the streetlights in our slum. I'm a topper in my class, but no one comes to watch me receive my awards on Prize Day. Who cares? I’m just a girl. What does it matter?
I rarely cry, for crying is useless; it only gives you a headache and a blocked nose. It won’t change anything or make anyone notice me or care—other than to get me belted to a bloody pulp by my mother—so why bother? After all, I’m just a girl.
I don’t watch movies; I've never seen a movie in a theatre in my whole life. However, I love reading books, especially those by the famous British author Charles Dickens. I can empathize with his characters, especially Oliver Twist and David Copperfield. The only problem is, these two characters are boys . . . and I’m a girl. But the world of books provides a perfect escape for me. I can find happiness there and relief from the mental and physical agony and abuse I must face in the real world. But why would I need to escape? I’m just a girl. I should be grateful.
I don’t have many girlfriends, except for the few naked street urchins who run around the Bandra Reclamation slum and urinate near the garbage bins. I love them, for they love me for who I am . . . smelly, dark, and filthy me. However, I’m a bit different from them, as I have a dream. I want to be a doctor and treat patients. I love science and mathematics; they are the two subjects in which I excel. But dreams are just that for me: dreams. After all, I’m just a girl.
You can read all about the exciting lives of Indian women if you just read the Mumbai newspapers. We have so much to look forward to:
• Rapes
• Molestation
• Eve Teasing
• Dowry Crises
• Bride Burnings
• Female Infanticide
• Female Foeticide
The media has sensationalized these issues, and I read all about these cases cover-to-cover under the streetlamp in the dead of night. I wonder why people like reading the gory details about such atrocities. Perhaps they don’t believe it’s true. Perhaps they don’t believe it can happen to them.
But who am I to question these things? Who am I to dream and hope for more than I’ve been given? Who am I? I’m just a girl.
Nirmala. The Mud Blossom. Crying out to your heart . . .
Coming Soon on Amazon: NIRMALA: The Mud Blossom
Author: Fiza Pathan
Edited by: Susan Hughes http://myindependenteditor.com/
Cover Art: LLPIx Photography & Design http://www.llpix.com/
Image: Sharvari Rane licensed usage http://500px.com/Sharvari_Night/sets
English UK
Paperback
ISBN 978-1-5006031-1-3
5.25 x 8.0
Price: $ 5.99
102 pages
Kindle: Price: $ 2.99
KDP Select Prime Members/Matchbook
View cover on:
http://insaneowl.com/2014/07/27/cover...
Copyright 2014 Fiza Pathan
There is a difference between the cry of the cock and the bleating of a young lamb. There also is a difference between the gaze of the wise owl and the stare of the fanged serpent. In this same way, I, too, am different from you.
There is a difference between the blood shed on the battlefield and the blood drawn out by the physician’s needle. There also is a difference between the hot sandy desert of Arabia and the cold bleakness of the Arctic. In this same way, I, too, am different from you.
You were born in a hospital, and your mother took you into her arms gently, as if you were a toy made of china glass. Your father washed his hands thrice before he even touched your cheeks and looked into your eyes, fantasizing about whose eyes you’d received—your father’s jet black eyes or your mother’s honey brown ones.
This is the difference between you, dear reader, and me, for your family took you home after you were born . . . whereas mine dumped me into a dustbin near the clinic where I was born, all because I was a girl.
Unwanted by all, my dreams were snuffed out on the footpath that led to the dark world of gender differentiation. In dirt did I find my solace. In the filth of the slum did I find my home.
My name is Nirmala Acharya, and I was rejected by my society because I was born a female. The pain of being unwanted has scarred my flesh as deeply as the daily beltings I received. My clothes smell of human excreta and my hair is filled with knots and lice. But on the inside, I’m just like you. The sad thing is, it doesn’t really matter what’s inside of me, because I was born all wrong on the outside. I’m just a girl.
I study, too, you know. I've got books and pencils and stuff, but do you know where I study? I study under the streetlights in our slum. I'm a topper in my class, but no one comes to watch me receive my awards on Prize Day. Who cares? I’m just a girl. What does it matter?
I rarely cry, for crying is useless; it only gives you a headache and a blocked nose. It won’t change anything or make anyone notice me or care—other than to get me belted to a bloody pulp by my mother—so why bother? After all, I’m just a girl.
I don’t watch movies; I've never seen a movie in a theatre in my whole life. However, I love reading books, especially those by the famous British author Charles Dickens. I can empathize with his characters, especially Oliver Twist and David Copperfield. The only problem is, these two characters are boys . . . and I’m a girl. But the world of books provides a perfect escape for me. I can find happiness there and relief from the mental and physical agony and abuse I must face in the real world. But why would I need to escape? I’m just a girl. I should be grateful.
I don’t have many girlfriends, except for the few naked street urchins who run around the Bandra Reclamation slum and urinate near the garbage bins. I love them, for they love me for who I am . . . smelly, dark, and filthy me. However, I’m a bit different from them, as I have a dream. I want to be a doctor and treat patients. I love science and mathematics; they are the two subjects in which I excel. But dreams are just that for me: dreams. After all, I’m just a girl.
You can read all about the exciting lives of Indian women if you just read the Mumbai newspapers. We have so much to look forward to:
• Rapes
• Molestation
• Eve Teasing
• Dowry Crises
• Bride Burnings
• Female Infanticide
• Female Foeticide
The media has sensationalized these issues, and I read all about these cases cover-to-cover under the streetlamp in the dead of night. I wonder why people like reading the gory details about such atrocities. Perhaps they don’t believe it’s true. Perhaps they don’t believe it can happen to them.
But who am I to question these things? Who am I to dream and hope for more than I’ve been given? Who am I? I’m just a girl.
Nirmala. The Mud Blossom. Crying out to your heart . . .
Coming Soon on Amazon: NIRMALA: The Mud Blossom
Author: Fiza Pathan
Edited by: Susan Hughes http://myindependenteditor.com/
Cover Art: LLPIx Photography & Design http://www.llpix.com/
Image: Sharvari Rane licensed usage http://500px.com/Sharvari_Night/sets
English UK
Paperback
ISBN 978-1-5006031-1-3
5.25 x 8.0
Price: $ 5.99
102 pages
Kindle: Price: $ 2.99
KDP Select Prime Members/Matchbook
View cover on:
http://insaneowl.com/2014/07/27/cover...
Copyright 2014 Fiza Pathan
The Nirmala Effect by Fiza Pathan
My first novel which has just been released titled ‘Nirmala: The Mud Blossom’ was an accident. I had no intention of writing this story, let alone framing and formatting it into a novella. Yet when I pass the many filthy slums of Mumbai surrounding sky rise buildings and towers…I think to myself that maybe my character Nirmala and I both were accidents. Nirmala, was tossed into a dustbin because she was a girl…I was sent home to my mother’s family because I was a girl. Nirmala and I are two really different people and I can’t understand how I managed to write about her in the first place.
Do I empathize with Nirmala? Maybe…Do I sympathize with Nirmala? Maybe…but one thing is for sure. Nirmala got me thinking about reality, the reality that girls in India are not wanted…Nirmala and I both were not wanted.
Many people after reading the script of Nirmala before it was published thought that maybe I was venting out my feeling of my own personal social tragedy…maybe…maybe not, but isn’t that the forte of a writer, to put a part of herself into the work she is creating? Maybe Nirmala was a character my subconscious mind wanted to bring out in ink…a character which ran in my blood and I did not know it.
I realized that my father and his family did not wish to look after me because I was a girl was only when I was in high school. Everyone in my maternal home thought I would take it nicely which I did externally…but inside…it hurt, it still hurts. From that day on, I also came to the realization that it was because of me that my mother’s and father’s marriage broke…I had ruined my mother’s life and I feel the guilt…and that too hurts a lot. Nirmala never broke up things; she tried to bring about understanding and unity…by breaking every piece of her existence and thrusting down those pieces into a mad cauldron of gender inequality.
It was my Sociology professor in college who brought to my notice that I could do very well as a Sociology student. He felt I had the guts and the grit to tell things as they were──the naked truth of the matter. He saw this in my Sociology projects especially ones dealing with gender discrimination issues. I had no clue then that I would one day create Nirmala…the child of the slum…the slum which is the face of reality…the reality of the unwanted girl child…the nightmare of my broken family life.
It took me only a month to write the book ‘Nirmala: The Mud Blossom’ but it will take me a lifetime to understand why I wrote about her. Why could I have not written a fantasy novel…something popular…something that would require a sequel…but I wrote about Nirmala. Yes! I wrote about Nirmala. I wrote about the abuses meted out to her, her fears, her aspirations, her disappointments, her anger, and her lively spirit…all which is not me and yet…it is me…for Nirmala lives in me and yet I can’t really say that we have had a dialogue. We don’t talk about it, just the way I was told by my mother that my father’s chapter was closed; she did not want to talk about it anymore.
What effect has Nirmala had on me as her creator? Would it be scandalous if I said we both don’t see eye to eye? For the fact is that we don’t really like each other but we tolerate each other, just the way Nirmala in my novella tolerates the gutter stench in her slum and the reeking of dried blood over her wounds.
However, I’ll never be able to forget about Nirmala for she was one character that got me to think…to think about Mumbai’s future with the expansion of slums and the children of these slums who urinate and excrete on the streets of our city. Have I failed Nirmala or has Nirmala failed me as a writer…only time will tell. We both found our roots in rejection; I hope that one day we both find our happiness in the blossom of our hearts.
Copyright 2014 Fiza Pathan
NIRMALA: The Mud Blossom
Do I empathize with Nirmala? Maybe…Do I sympathize with Nirmala? Maybe…but one thing is for sure. Nirmala got me thinking about reality, the reality that girls in India are not wanted…Nirmala and I both were not wanted.
Many people after reading the script of Nirmala before it was published thought that maybe I was venting out my feeling of my own personal social tragedy…maybe…maybe not, but isn’t that the forte of a writer, to put a part of herself into the work she is creating? Maybe Nirmala was a character my subconscious mind wanted to bring out in ink…a character which ran in my blood and I did not know it.
I realized that my father and his family did not wish to look after me because I was a girl was only when I was in high school. Everyone in my maternal home thought I would take it nicely which I did externally…but inside…it hurt, it still hurts. From that day on, I also came to the realization that it was because of me that my mother’s and father’s marriage broke…I had ruined my mother’s life and I feel the guilt…and that too hurts a lot. Nirmala never broke up things; she tried to bring about understanding and unity…by breaking every piece of her existence and thrusting down those pieces into a mad cauldron of gender inequality.
It was my Sociology professor in college who brought to my notice that I could do very well as a Sociology student. He felt I had the guts and the grit to tell things as they were──the naked truth of the matter. He saw this in my Sociology projects especially ones dealing with gender discrimination issues. I had no clue then that I would one day create Nirmala…the child of the slum…the slum which is the face of reality…the reality of the unwanted girl child…the nightmare of my broken family life.
It took me only a month to write the book ‘Nirmala: The Mud Blossom’ but it will take me a lifetime to understand why I wrote about her. Why could I have not written a fantasy novel…something popular…something that would require a sequel…but I wrote about Nirmala. Yes! I wrote about Nirmala. I wrote about the abuses meted out to her, her fears, her aspirations, her disappointments, her anger, and her lively spirit…all which is not me and yet…it is me…for Nirmala lives in me and yet I can’t really say that we have had a dialogue. We don’t talk about it, just the way I was told by my mother that my father’s chapter was closed; she did not want to talk about it anymore.
What effect has Nirmala had on me as her creator? Would it be scandalous if I said we both don’t see eye to eye? For the fact is that we don’t really like each other but we tolerate each other, just the way Nirmala in my novella tolerates the gutter stench in her slum and the reeking of dried blood over her wounds.
However, I’ll never be able to forget about Nirmala for she was one character that got me to think…to think about Mumbai’s future with the expansion of slums and the children of these slums who urinate and excrete on the streets of our city. Have I failed Nirmala or has Nirmala failed me as a writer…only time will tell. We both found our roots in rejection; I hope that one day we both find our happiness in the blossom of our hearts.
Copyright 2014 Fiza Pathan
NIRMALA: The Mud Blossom
Giveaway for NIRMALA: The Mud Blossom on Goodreads
The Goodreads team has approved my giveaway for NIRMALA: The Mud Blossom. It is scheduled to open for entries at midnight on Friday, August 15 and end at midnight on Monday, September 15. 3 copies of my book will be given away to Goodreads members in United States, Canada, United Kingdom, Australia, Afghanistan, Aland Islands, Albania, Algeria, American Samoa, Andorra, Angola, Anguilla, Antarctica, Antigua and Barbuda, Argentina, Armenia, Aruba, Austria, Azerbaijan, Bahamas, Bahrain, Bangladesh, Barbados, Belarus, Belgium, Belize, Benin, Bermuda, Bhutan, Bolivia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Botswana, Bouvet Island, Brazil, British Indian Ocean Territory, Brunei Darussalam, Bulgaria, Burkina Faso, Burundi, Cambodia, Cameroon, Cape Verde, Cayman Islands, Central African Republic, Chad, Chile, China, Christmas Island, Cocos (keeling) Islands, Colombia, Comoros, Congo, Congo, the Democratic Republic of the, Cook Islands, Costa Rica, Cote D'ivoire, Croatia, Cuba, Cyprus, Czech Republic, Denmark, Djibouti, Dominica, Dominican Republic, Ecuador, Egypt, El Salvador, Equatorial Guinea, Eritrea, Estonia, Ethiopia, Falkland Islands (malvinas), Faroe Islands, Fiji, Finland, France, French Guiana, French Polynesia, French Southern Territories, Gabon, Gambia, Georgia, Germany, Ghana, Gibraltar, Greece, Greenland, Grenada, Guadeloupe, Guam, Guatemala, Guernsey, Guinea, Guinea-bissau, Guyana, Haiti, Heard Island and Mcdonald Islands, Holy See (vatican City State), Honduras, Hong Kong, Hungary, Iceland, India, Indonesia, Iran, Iraq, Ireland, Isle of Man, Israel, Italy, Jamaica, Japan, Jersey, Jordan, Kazakhstan, Kenya, Kiribati, Korea, Democratic People's Republic of, Korea, Republic of, Kuwait, Kyrgyzstan, Lao People's Democratic Republic, Latvia, Lebanon, Lesotho, Liberia, Libya, Liechtenstein, Lithuania, Luxembourg, Macao, Macedonia, the Former Yugoslav Republic of, Madagascar, Malawi, Malaysia, Maldives, Mali, Malta, Marshall Islands, Martinique, Mauritania, Mauritius, Mayotte, Mexico, Micronesia, Federated States of, Moldova, Monaco, Mongolia, Montenegro, Montserrat, Morocco, Mozambique, Myanmar, Namibia, Nauru, Nepal, Netherlands, Netherlands Antilles, New Caledonia, New Zealand, Nicaragua, Niger, Nigeria, Niue, Norfolk Island, Northern Mariana Islands, Norway, Oman, Pakistan, Palau, Palestinian Territory, Occupied, Panama, Papua New Guinea, Paraguay, Peru, Philippines, Pitcairn, Poland, Portugal, Puerto Rico, Qatar, Réunion, Romania, Russian Federation, Rwanda, Saint Barthélemy, Saint Helena, Saint Kitts and Nevis, Saint Lucia, Saint Martin, Saint Pierre and Miquelon, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, Samoa, San Marino, Sao Tome and Principe, Saudi Arabia, Senegal, Serbia, Seychelles, Sierra Leone, Singapore, Slovakia, Slovenia, Solomon Islands, Somalia, South Africa, South Georgia and the South Sandwich Islands, South Sudan, Spain, Sri Lanka, Sudan, Suriname, Svalbard and Jan Mayen, Swaziland, Sweden, Switzerland, Syrian Arab Republic, Taiwan, Tajikistan, Tanzania, United Republic of, Thailand, Timor-leste, Togo, Tokelau, Tonga, Trinidad and Tobago, Tunisia, Turkey, Turkmenistan, Turks and Caicos Islands, Tuvalu, Uganda, Ukraine, United Arab Emirates, United States Minor Outlying Islands, Uruguay, Uzbekistan, Vanuatu, Venezuela, Viet Nam, Virgin Islands, British, Virgin Islands, U.S., Wallis and Futuna, Western Sahara, Yemen, Zambia, and Zimbabwe.
A sample copy of my book is available for viewing and download at:
http://www.amazon.com/NIRMALA-Mud-Blossom-Fiza-Pathan-ebook/dp/B00M9ORT9K/
Do read the two ★★★★★ reviews
“It isn't often that I am moved to tears by a story. In this case I had to stop reading several times until I could see the words clearly once again.” Jack Eason
"This book in my eyes is both: a ‘tour de force’ of social reportage and a literary masterpiece."
ebooksinternational .
I count on your wholehearted support to make this Giveaway a success. Feel free to reblog my post throughout the Giveaway period and do click the Enter to win button midnight on Friday, August 15.
With warm regards
Fiza
Related posts:
http://insaneowl.com/2014/08/03/the-nirmala-effect-by-fiza-pathan/
http://insaneowl.com/2014/08/01/justreleased-nirmala-the-mud-blossom-by-fiza-pathan/
http://insaneowl.com/2014/07/27/cover-reveal-nirmala-the-mud-blossom-crying-out-to-your-heart/
A sample copy of my book is available for viewing and download at:
http://www.amazon.com/NIRMALA-Mud-Blossom-Fiza-Pathan-ebook/dp/B00M9ORT9K/
Do read the two ★★★★★ reviews
“It isn't often that I am moved to tears by a story. In this case I had to stop reading several times until I could see the words clearly once again.” Jack Eason
"This book in my eyes is both: a ‘tour de force’ of social reportage and a literary masterpiece."
ebooksinternational .
I count on your wholehearted support to make this Giveaway a success. Feel free to reblog my post throughout the Giveaway period and do click the Enter to win button midnight on Friday, August 15.
With warm regards
Fiza
Related posts:
http://insaneowl.com/2014/08/03/the-nirmala-effect-by-fiza-pathan/
http://insaneowl.com/2014/08/01/justreleased-nirmala-the-mud-blossom-by-fiza-pathan/
http://insaneowl.com/2014/07/27/cover-reveal-nirmala-the-mud-blossom-crying-out-to-your-heart/
