Shuvashree Chowdhury's Blog

A Day in the town of Anantnag: Kashmir again, with my Sister.

A Day in the town of Anantnag.

Anantnag is famous for its religious sites, especially the Amarnath Cave, its natural beauty with numerous freshwater springs and lush gardens, and historical attractions like the ancient Martand Sun Temple. It is also a gateway to popular tourist destinations like the Pahalgam valley and is known for its rich cultural heritage and the surrounding picturesque landscapes.

After my visit to Kashmir last August, I received a message, from my Kashmiri friend Mukhtar, that said, “You could have visited Anantnag.”
Then again last March when I was in Kashmir I received a reminder, “Good evening, If you wish you can have a cup of tea at my place near Sun Temple Anantnag.
Please come.”
“Thank you so much, but I’m back in Kolkata” I replied, “Next time I will surely inform you in advance and meet you there.”
The third time this last year that I was in Kashmir, I made it a point to connect with Mukhtar and go and visit his hometown. My sister was enthused as soon as she heard of the historical and architectural significance of the place. As it meant she would get some good photographs, the real purpose of her visit yet again to Kashmir.

It was raining heavily the day we set out for Anantnag. It was after we were well inside the town, having crossed this bridge, that we got the news that the Fohar-Sakhras bridge (also known as the ‘Shah Ragh’ bridge) in Anantnag, had been washed away by the devastating floods . This vital link connected two villages, Dachnipora and Khovripora, and was a significant casualty of the severe weather in the region the past week.

Before leaving Srinagar that morning of the 27th of August, I had not only called Mukhtar to tell him we were coming. I also connected him to our travel partner Hussain from his local number, so we would reach the precise place. There was a phone and internet blockage the day before and that same day. We had immense difficulty clearing our bills and checking out that morning as we were headed to Pahalgam. With some quick thinking, we managed to get the hotel manager to connect with my sister’s husband in Bangalore, and he was able to do a bank transfer.

After a few stops on the way for water, fuel, and tea, asking people on the way we still landed up at the Anantnag Mattan Temple instead. Only after our thorough visit, as Mukhtar told us he was on the way there to meet us, did we realise that he was actually waiting for us at the Martand Sun Temple. The names sounded similar so I had confused the two. If not for the confusion, my sister and I might not have planned to visit the Mattan temple that was beautiful no doubt and reminded me somewhat of the Pashupatinath temple of Kathmandu, Nepal.

Mukhtar met us just outside the Mattan temple and informed us that the Sun temple was about 3-4 kms from there and he would lead the way there on his bike. The Sun temple has been closed since last March after the shootout at Baisaran. But Mukhtar, true to his word and in honouring his invitation, used his clout to get the temple opened especially for us and also to get a government approved guide who escorted us around the awe inspiring monument and the beautiful garden. It was a lovely informative tour over a lot of socio-political exchanges. It is always a pleasure to listen to informed debates whether or not you agree with either views. Jayshree enjoyed debating on every conceivable issue and I was happy to listen intently and take mental notes for my novel.

Then we went back down to Anantnag town and had an awesome lunch, of my favourite Kasmiri dishes – Tabak Maz and mutton Roganjosh, with dal makhani, salad, rice and naan. This was over a lot of good humoured banter, also nonstop challenging conversation, of which there is always plenty when my sister is around. After which we were the recipients of the charming, homely Kashmiri hospitality at Muktar’s wife’s home, that was near where we had lunch. This included well informed socio political debates with Mukhtar – he has a doctorate(PhD) in life science with a special Master’s Degree in Jounalism and is currently in government service – along with his father in law who is a retired professor and his brother in law who just completed his studies at Chandigarh University.
Our topic was the past and present circumstances in Kashmir. I chose to listen intently to everyone rather than air my views at this time. I’m usually quiet in a group and converse best one on one – even as my sister and Mukhtar and his family debated on the history, even geography of Kashmir.
I had a quieter long conversation with Mukhtar of my views on the same topics over the phone later, after I had a couple of days to think things through. I always like a wholesome 360 degree view on everything after listening to all perspectives – that’s how I project people and life in all my writing. My written views are usually strong as I would have observed and heard all possible viewpoints.
I also got into a few debates with my sister later, over the next few days – on varying perceptions by all the people we met, on the issues on Kashmir.
Overall it was a mentally stimulating day in Anantnag, that is often in the news and known for controversies.
Mukhtar wishes to continue the debates with us, especially with my sister, and educate us more on the history and current local issues, later in Bangalore or Kolkata.

Thank you so much Mir Mukhtar Ahmad for welcoming us so graciously, then being a perfect host over a lovely funfilled charming day, in every way!

About the Martand Sun Temple, see here:
https://www.facebook.com/share/v/15unCKSjn3/?mibextid=wwXIfr

This song, one of my favourites, from film Aandhi, was shot at this place: https://youtu.be/8-HnmVg0-O8?si=h2lv0ZbTfcUCmzj3

The album of the day’s photos: https://www.facebook.com/share/v/1gJhwJW4vQ/?mibextid=wwXIfr

PS: At the end of the above album is a video of the essence of the Mattan temple – us feeding the fishes…

…this post is continued from the previous one.

#kashmir #srinagar #india #pakistan #kashmirtourism #kashmiri #jammu #instagram #kashmirvalley #nature #photography #jammukashmir #love #lahore #travel #islamabad #karachi #gulmarg #mountains #instagood #ladakh #kashmirdairies #travelphotography #punjab #delhi #kashmirdiaries #kashmirlovers #kashmirbeauty #fashion #trending

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Published on September 09, 2025 05:58

Kashmir again, with my Sister.

“Jewel in the crown of Kashmir”: Dal Lake.

On this day, the 25th of August, I arrived in Srinagar, two days after my birthday. My sister Jayshree, who had arrived the day before, is actually the professionally trained photographer of the family. She also has a full time job as a marketing consultant manager in Bangalore, where she lives with her husband, a Mumbai born and raised Malayali.
I have had a self-taught passion for photography since I was a child, that goes way back, before I became a poet or author. Both of us have inherited this interest and skill in photography from our mother who snapped up almost all our noteworthy moments in her Agfa Isollete camera, since our birth.
Jayshree got to keep Ma’s camera as her legacy, for following the art form in a serious way. Just as I had possession of Ma’s 5 diaries of poetry that I published posthumously. I particularly am reminded of these nuggets, that in two days, on the 8th of September is Ma’s birthday. Since she passed away in 2021, we her daughters prefer to celebrate her birthday in any small way we can, rather than remember her death anniversary.
This trip was Jayshree’s idea, as she wanted to photoshoot the flowers in bloom all over Kashmir at this time. She has been to Kashmir several times before, just like me – but not in the flowering seasons. While I was here last August and then last March. Greenery and flower landscapes always beckon me, much over snow or sea. Jayshree often jokes since our youth, that in everything I wear there has to be flowers. Her latest rejoinder is – you should settle down in Kashmir – I’ll come to visit you.
I decided to go back a third time in the past year even after spending over a month easily in my last two trips, just for the greenery and flowers that abound. Nature in all its vibrancy, not snow capped, inspires me and is truly my god.

So this morning, since I was to reach only in the evening, I had requested my friend Idrees Hussain, who I met a few times on my last trip in March, and who kept in touch – even visiting the Chinar Bookfest and sending me photos of my books, to take my sister far out into the Dal Lake for her to get good shots of the Lily and Lotus. Idrees, who was completing his M.Com degree course last March, and has recently qualified for the police service, could not meet my sister as decided at the Dal ghat, due to a personal exigency. But in all responsibility, he sent his twin brother to meet and take my sister boating. Idrees, I recommended even if the heavy rains came on her ride, also because he is an ace sportsman and represented Kashmir in the recent water sports festival that ended just a week before we arrived.

When I arrived in Srinagar, the hotel car picked me up and my sister called and suggested I could rest for the evening if I wished to. But I was not going to be kept away from open landscapes, especially the Dal lake, which is the face of Kashmir and my favourite place. So then I arrived at Dal lake and my sister, with Idree’s brother, picked me up in their Shikara. There was also an assistant, and my sister requested to row for fun, while the two boatmen gave her cover on the other side. I felt safe though anxious, even as we sisters remembered Ma being an ace rower, who had last demonstrated her skill on the Bangalore lake when she was 65 years.

Idrees called shortly after I got on the Shikara and sincerely apologised for his inability to come and take us around personally. His reason for staying away, the exigency – was the most beautiful piece of news and it warmed my heart. His wife had spontaneously just given birth to a baby girl the day I arrived in Kashmir. He was calling from the hospital and I asked him to send me a photo of his bundle of joy and he promptly did. I’m not sure if Idrees was happy or disappointed in his first born not being a son. I won’t ever ask him that. But the cutest little being, a well hooded girl, surely lit up my heart and mind and set the mood for my days ahead in Kashmir. It was like a sign from god that the book I’m writing, like everything I write about, must highlight the issue of women’s empowerment.
The first photo is in front of our hotel the next morning – the local youth was passing by us with his friend – they requested to take a photo with us on their phone – I obliged thinking it made an optimistic photo to post on their social media – depicting tourists were slowly coming back.

We had returned to the Dal lake after that even in the rain, the photos after the evening’s video is of the next morning – Idrees took us himself the next morning, geared in the black raincoat you see in the later photos despite which he was drenched. We had an almost 4 hour ride in the rain, also stopped at the floating cafe for Maggi, pakodas, Kahwa and later chocolate sandwitch.
The evening ride in the sunset and the morning Shikara ride in the heavy rain – were both ethereal and will forever be etched in my mind. The 2nd last video depicts the sounds of the rain on the Dal.

Thank you Idrees!

The photo and video album is here: https://www.facebook.com/share/v/1RUqiVRrZo/?mibextid=wwXIfr

#poetryinmotion #visualpoetry #poetrylovers #poetrysociety #novelist #poet #authorlife #srinagar #dallakesrinagarkashmir #dallake #kashmir #kashmirlovers #kashmirphotographyh

*****

Posted on the 5th of September…

The photo and video album: https://www.facebook.com/share/v/18ttAs1duN/?mibextid=wwXIfr

One of the best days of my life easily – in solitude, with myself and the ethereal beauty of Kashmir – ‘Paradise on Earth’. This was the first of September 2025, hardly any tourists in all of Kashmir since the shootout in Baisaran last March, just a week before I left Kashmir after 15 glorious days. I’m in solidarity with all those who lost their lives and the families of the bereaved. But what also pains me much is the plight of the ordinary, peaceful softhearted hospitable Kashmiri people. They have lost their livelihoods and their peace for a long time to come. I am here in Kashmir all by myself, after a week with my sister when we went all around, just like I was here in March.
I feel safe and at home everywhere I go, also that now I have friends all over Kashmir who call me home and treat me like family, as if I were one of their own. You cannot stand outside the fence admiring their house and landscape and hope to feel at home in someone’s house. Their sad, weary eyes make me want to be with them in their stifling plight – that’s what brings me here again despite the severe rains.

There’s not a person in sight for miles and miles in this once bursting with life valley, even in Sonamarg. There’s just me on a horse ‘Kalu’ along with his 26 year old keeper, Sajid – I will share more in the next series of posts and reels – this is Paradise on Earth indeed, if you see with your heart and embrace it with your soul!

“Gar firdaus, bar ruhe zamin ast, hamin asto, hamin asto, hamin ast” (گر فردوس بر روئے زمین است ہمیں است ہمیں است و ہمیں است), which translates to “If there is paradise on earth, it is here, it is here, it is here”
— Amir Khusrau.

“One can be instructed in society, one is inspired only in solitude”
— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

The clouds, the mist, my solitude and I – romancing the range of hills, a variety of trees, the gurgling river like the chirping of a variety of birds giggling at the sheep with their shepherds – as I’m wrapped in a blanket of serenity in the cloudy and sometimes sunny chill. The river water, when I put my hand in it was freezing.
This was the rest of the birthday treat to myself, over my day alone in Sonmarg – of which I have shared some part in the previous post yesterday. I spent a week with my sister, but reseved a few days only for myself…
After I reached Somamarg, I went straight to an eatery and had with my fingers – a plateful of rice with two portions of mutton roganjosh as the locals would have prefered. Then garnering physical strength, after a brisk walk, set out on the over 3 hour horse ride.

Films such as Bajrangi Bhaijaan, Haider, Highway, Fanaa, Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani, Dunki, Notebook, and Silsila are among the many Bollywood movies shot in Sonamarg. The scenic beauty of the location, with its snow-clad mountains and serene lakes, makes it a popular backdrop for both dramatic scenes and romantic song sequences.

“A man can be himself only so long as he is alone; and if he does not love solitude, he will not love freedom; for it is only when he is alone that he is really free”
— Arthur Schopenhauer, Essays and
Aphorisms

#kashmir

# poet #poetry #poetrylovers #authorlife #noveslist #kashmir #kashmir_lovers #kashmirphotographyclub #photographylovers #visualpoetryphotography #kashmirvalley #kashmirdiaries

#kashmirbleeds #kashmirbeauty #kashmirlovers #sonamargkashmir

#sonamargvalley #sonamarag_kashmir

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Published on September 06, 2025 09:54

Rain on my Balcony: Twin flame Connection.

As I sit and watch the morning rain,
it’s torrential pour drenching this plane –
the green of trees is translucent now,
leaves quiver in the shower's erotic touch.

In the darkness of clouds still laden
heavy with the world’s bottled emotions -
they have to wrench out of their heart
old love, to feel refreshed for a new start.

A crow hidden in the tree, afraid of light;
youthful Mynas hop my balcony astride,
first I see one then I seek another -
both drenched, they quiver in the drizzle.

Their meek twitter now gains momentum
to take on a world coming into light -
gossamer sun beams swathing my mind,
enmesh my thoughts to begin to write.

The crow now dashes out of the tree,
swoons on a plate on a roof in front of me, making the nibbling Myna fly away –
why would it wish usurp a scared crow
who’s out to claim his place in the world.

It’s shimmering light all around now,
on a far terrace pigeons hopping astride
as the sun comes out in its steady glow -
threatening to veil the lingering clouds.

In which an airplane glides in and out
as if cutting through peaks and troughs -
for Sun’s ascension, clearing the pathway
in which a white pigeon is soaring high.

Two crows huddle together on a rooftop,
allopreening their life-ravaged feathers -
pigeons watch the Twinflame push-pull
of two lovers from several past lifetimes.

One crow, scared and hopping away,
after a short time of intense loving -
while the other looks shell shocked, hurt, ignores till the errant chooses to return.

I watch in awe recognising their play,
conforming to the theory of TwinFlames -
from the Tarmac of my wisdom of life,
Love or Death don’t come if you beckon it.

The sun is by now bright, and also soft,
as I sit on my balcony with my thoughts -
the steady shower has uplifted my soul
to a spiritual plane for an exalted takeoff.

— Shuvashree

PS: this poem, other than the rain, is also inspired by this article I read about Twin flames: https://medium.com/@createhappymedita...

“If you can't explain it simply, you don't understand it well enough.”
—- Albert Einstein

My sketch…crow evolution through several lives

#poetry #love #poet #art #poem #poetrycommunity #writersofinstagram #writer #poetsofinstagram #poems #writing #quotes #music #photography #life #artist #quote #words #instagood #spokenword #wordporn #hiphop #poets #inspiration #quoteoftheday #poetsofig #writersofig #writerscommunity #poetryofinstagram #motivation

Both books are available on Amazon, Barnes and Nobles, Kobe and directly in the links:
https://www.thedogearsbookshop.com/page/2/?s=shuvashree&id=22661&post_type=productThe

https://cinnamonteal.in/product-tag/shuvashree-chowdhury/

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Published on August 08, 2025 22:20

’Shootout at Baisaran’: Operation Sindoor: Delhi Poetry Slam

5th August,2025: Pleased to have my poem ‘Shootout at Baisaran’ featured in the Delhi Poetry Slam site: https://www.delhipoetryslam.com/blogs...

I had just chronicled my last Solo trip to Kashmir, ending with the Shootout at Baisaran and then Operation Sindoor - as a backup for my next(4th) novel - when I saw the poster for the Delhi Poetry Slam on social media.
I had written these 12 poems as a way of journalling my experiences, not for a competition, yet I decided to send the last one, as poetry is to be shared in my view.
This was after all on a current and pertinent topic.
I am pleased that the organisers have recognised the sentiments of my participation - out of my love for Kashmir and its people, for which I have also participated in the ongoing Chinar Book Festival, and ‘as a token of appreciation’ have thus featured it.
Thank you!

PS: sharing the photos of the trip again here https://www.facebook.com/share/v/1CaD...
You can also click the right box on the Album I’m adding this to read all the poem posts.

‘Terrorist Shootout at Baisaran, Mini Switzerland’: Kashmir.

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Published on August 05, 2025 00:42

Chinar Book Festival: excerpts from my novel ‘Across Borders’.

At the first day today, of the 9 day Chinar Book festival in Srinagar, Kashmir.

In the link: https://www.facebook.com/share/v/1F6hfaq988/?mibextid=wwXIfr
sharing a few video clips of my reading from two of my books, along with a relevant excerpt from my novel Across Borders below:
https://shuvashreeghosh.wordpress.com/2020/04/27/holy-month-of-ramadan-excerpts-from-my-novel-across-borders/

Also sharing a few random photos here from the event today – it is so heartening to see the interest in books of young people in Kashmir, especially women – I saw this for myself when I attended last year.

The Srinagar connection to my book Across Borders: https://www.google.com/search?q=the+hair+of+the+prophet+hazard+bal+mosque+led+to+bangladesh&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8&hl=en-in&client=safari

A current voice from Kashmir: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DMkfyJ9uiEv/?igsh=ZDcyenlzeTFxNnpi

#ChinarBookFestival #kashmirvalley #Kashmirtourism #LiteraryFestival #KashmirNews #kashmirdiaries #kashmirculture #BookFair #Srinagar #SKICC #August2025 #poetry #novel #booklover #books #authors #authorlife #Kashmir, #Kashmiri #Kashmiriyat #IndianLiterature #KashmirAuthors #Bookstagram, #AuthorsOfInstagram #NewRelease #SupportAuthors #HistoricalFiction, #Romance #Poetry #ShuvashreeChowdhury

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Published on August 02, 2025 20:03

‘My Search for Meaning’

“Even the tragic and negative aspects of life, such as unavoidable suffering, can be turned into a human achievement by the attitude which a man adopts towards his predicament…to transform despair into triumph”.

“I for one am convinced that if there is such a thing as Heaven, and if Heaven ever accepts a prayer, it will hide this behind a sequencce of natural facts.”

— Holocaust survivor Victor E. Frankl https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Viktor_Frankl in his book ‘The Will to Meaning – Finding Purpose in Life’ that I’m currently reading.

I first read and reread his autobiographical ‘Man’s Search for Meaning’, several years back – a best-selling book, based on his experiences in various Nazi concentration camps.

Saturday evening thoughts…There are those of us who at any given time are either just living life steeped in all of its woes or else rejoicing and living it in joy. So we cannot understand how some who seem to be in troubles and worries, as we look at them from our apparently self assured smug towers are seen to be enjoying themselves. We just assume they are always faking their enjoyment and joy. Aren’t they facing this or that problem.

Perhaps even as we look down at them from our smug glass towers, they can look up to see our inherent jealousies and insecurities from a lack of purpose and meaning or a life’s path that doesn’t satisfy their souls craving for the spotlight, more so from a lack of knowledgeable reading and thinking. Creative pursuits heal and elevate the soul.

We writers, poets and authors thrive on our troubles and worries and also enjoy every moment of life – the good, the bad and the ugly, as they are all the fodder for our writing and dreams. So we laugh and cry, smile and snarl, all of it simultaneously. The more sad, scared or despondent I feel, even if I feel my world is crashing on me – people I loved, trusted and gave my soul to betray and leave me, I will dress up and go meet the world chin up. They can take everything away from me but not the fight in me…

I don’t wait for the high tide to recede to jump and play in the waves of life.

Please read Victor Frankl’s first book and you will make sense of what I’m saying. He’s a qualified psychiatrist.

A few random, rough, uncut lines I wrote few years back in 2016 on my blog but I didn’t add to my last two poetry book manuscripts…found them while reading Victor Frankl’s books I can totally relate to – especially his above lines that are my life’s motto and I’ve elaborated in all of my books before reading his. His books give me a renewed confidence in my own positive thinking and purpose in life.

Adding the above to the post below…

*****

Posted on 30th July 2016.

‘My Search for Meaning’

Poetry is such a farce – do you agree:

It usually masks what hurts most –

that which you cannot dare

to share with the world.

You can hide behind nature:

cry in the rain or laugh through pain –

all the while covering what

is really there to unchain.

Poem after poem you write

In praise of nature or the divine:

When in your heart you struggle

To dislodge arrows that wrench.

On a day I accidentally find online

I don’t have a friend, let alone a spouse:

I wake up at five to extol my soul’s

harmonious sanctum no clamour can defy.

Sister, mother, no one cares for months

If I’m dead or alive – also friends I lose

by the dozens, my husband they eulogise:

at dawn, to solitary enchantment I chime.

For days, when lone hill walks and sunlight

cannot harness my soul’s restlessness –

I can bind them in my deluge of photos,

climb the tallest mountain, write on suicide.

— Shuvashree/ 30th June 2016.

#poet #poetry #novelist #authorlife #booklover #books #life #lifeanddeath #victorfrankl #booklover #meaningoflife

shuvashreeghosh.wordpress.com/2016/06/30/poetry-is-such-a-farce-do-you-agree/

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Published on July 26, 2025 11:02

‘The Wife’: The Making of a Book – 7

This is in continuation, to what went into the making of my first published book, summed up in the last two posts.

As I have illustrated – I had a strong aversion to the term ‘The Wife’ – especially the one who calls to ask her busy husband what she should cook for dinner – cabbage or cauliflower.

The incident below, proves my apathy was justified and it indeed set the mood for my collective public image, even if short lived as I had insisted on squashing the use of ‘the wife’ in referring to me.

Just about the time that my first novel Across Borders was in stores, I happened to be at a much regarded friends place for a dinner party. She had been my journalist husband’s senior colleague, when I moved to Chennai in May 2006.
All the invitees at this party, in 2013, were either senior journalists – editors, columnists, film critics, or reputed persons from various facets of the art world, like – theatre, dance, music and film.

B, as he worked late back then, was to join us in a while straight from work. I had arrived early, from home. Most of the other guests had arrived already.
We were all seated in our hosts living room, with our drinks in hand, when our she introduced each of us to everyone.
In my introduction, she enthusiastically added:“…Shree’s book has just been released…”
When interrupting her mid-sentence, a senior and noted theatre person, turned towards me, and blurted, “What have you written…A Chic-lit?” … even as I looked at him in surprise, my irritation turning into embarrassment then stinging indignation, as I was aware of all eyes on me, he added, “has anyone here read it?’’
I looked at our host, who seemed more surprised and awkward than I was – signalling to her with my hand, I said, “She’s (I used her name) read it and even recommended it to other senior authors…”

Patriarchy, is so ingrained in our society that when it shifts to misogyny and into criminality as the case of the two gruesome physical assaults in the last year in Kolkata, we just don’t perceive the subtle paradigm shift in time, to prevent it. But there are tell-tale signs from the start and it’s time we learn to recognise these mindsets and nip these male egos in the nascent formation. That is why I had made it a point to tell him clearly that he had no right to be condescending, judgemental and sexist – that I could stand up firmly against male chauvinism, however subtle it seemed to anyone around.

When BG arrived I narrated this situation to him promptly, that was to bother me for the rest of the evening and long after, in seeking empathy. But he obviously didn’t think anything wrong of it and proceeded to socialise with the others normally. This is why I have always fought my own battles – my feminist self-esteem can well stand up for itself.

A few years before this evening, in 2006, the year I had moved to Chennai, I had been at this same friend’s place for her new year eve’s party. The same theater person, who thought me capable of authoring nothing more than a Chic-lit, even though the first corporate team I had led of 15 people when I was 25 years old, had comprised of 14 men and only 1 woman other than me – all of whom were either a couple of years younger than I was or my age – had managed to rattle me even years later, then.
I had just walked into the same living room, we were standing when this man after exchanging pleasantries with my husband, dramatically sized me, and blurted, “You certainly don’t look like ‘The Wife’ from BG’s columns.”

Yet it was to be this same senior theatre person I had stood up to firmly, who interrupted my conversation with a group of journalists to apprise them: ‘‘Don’t you know…Shuvashree was not just in the audience at the Short and Sweet theatre festival by Prakriti Foundation we all had attended. She was also one of the jury, for the course of all 70 plays.”
This dialogue was in 2017, at the launch of BG’s book Gazing at Neighbours. Obviously, a lot had changed from my first meeting him in 2006 – 2013 – 2017…he was surprised to see me with the mark sheet in hand just like him long after the audience and the theater artists left. He now had a newfound respect – but I thought it was divine providence bestowed on me so that I may continue of my path confidently.

It was experiences such as these, and so many more, that prepared me – not to shy away from or be intimidated by what people perceive from the way I look or dress – simply for being a woman but one who can think like a man when needed.

The original post that inspired the series of thoughts: https://shuvashreeghosh.wordpress.com/2013/01/19/the-making-of-a-book-part-1/

PS: my series of thoughts, the last few posts on patriarchy, are also inspired by the current case in Kolkata after the RG Kar hospital one last year :

https://www.firstpost.com/explainers/kolkata-law-student-rape-case-monojit-mishra-harass-women-campus-13901636.ht

#authorlife #authorsofinstagram #author #bookstagram #writersofinstagram #writingcommunity #writer #writerslife #amwriting #writing #writerscommunity #indieauthor #authors #books #authorsofig #writersofig #booklover #writerlife #bookworm #writers #book #authorssupportingauthors #writinglife #reading #authorcommunity #authorscommunity #writinginspiration #bookish #indieauthors #readersofinstagram

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Published on July 01, 2025 02:00

Charting your Life’s Path: The Making of a Book – 6

It was a Sunday morning, at home in Chennai. As I did every morning, I picked up the four newspapers we subscribed to, from just outside the main door. But that day, before making myself a cup of tea over which I browse through the news, I first checked the Sunday supplement of the paper which was to carry my travelogue on Kerala.

This I had written, after my first blog on sulekha.com titled ‘Chennai a City of Contrasts’ did not get shortlisted for publication in the ongoing tie up with them and a reputed newspaper. I know even two decades later that it was well written, but I suppose it was too much of an outsider’s take, in a conservative city in 2006.

This, even though I had been to Chennai, several times for days at a time, with assignments from a few public limited companies I had worked with. In each of these companies, Chennai was rated highest on most professional parameters. This is how I even agreed to get married to a man from Chennai, and move there promptly. I knew the city would teach me a lot and enable a satisfying career progression. And I was right, it did, even if not in the way I had imagined.

Today, I’m a writer, one who takes my work so seriously akin to worship, only from my Chennai years. In effect, I’m a Chennai writer, whatever my ethnicity or background. This was after setting up a Crossword bookstore in Chennai as unit head of the Specialty division of Shopperstop. This assignment taught me the value of intellectual stimulation over slapstick nonsensical nonsense that sells in the name of literature, as if it were only written for the purpose of a Romcom(romantic comedy) film.

So this particular Sunday in 2008, when I picked up the newspapers from my front gate in Chennai, I first checked to see if my travelogue, ‘Mystic Kerala’ that was on Kovalam and Varkala, was there. It was to my immense satisfaction, after having asked a correspondent of the paper several times in two months, after it was shortlisted from sulekha.com – that he had confirmed it would be in this Sunday’s magazine. Looking at my name in print, I smiled to myself with pride, as I imagined my journalist husband’s shocked expression when I would break the news to him. I would in effect, I thought, serve him and his friends cynicism on my writing, back to him on a cold platter. Let me add here a pertinent point – this was in the national paper B was employed with back then, as assistant editor and a popular columnist of the Sunday magazine. With a smug sense of self – we Bengali women are usually strongly feminist, I went about my tasks, awaiting the man of the house to awaken. However my satisfaction was smashed to the ground of patriarchy, shortly after.

I was still walking back to our bedroom from the main door with the papers, to preempt how much longer it was, for the man of the house to arise, when my mobile phone rang sharply. It was my sister. I took the call excitedly to ask her to check the Sunday magazine for my writeup. As this newspaper had a good circulation in Kerala, Tamil Nadu and Bangalore too, and she and her husband read the Sunday Magazine regularly; since I married one of their popular columnists, two years back in 2006.

But before I could get a word out of my mouth in excitement, she blurted: “What utter nonsense, have you written… what kind of English is this – the Sisters from our school will turn in their graves to think this is what you learned…”

I felt a resounding slap on my face, and my eyes were smarting like back in school from Sister Andrea’s spanking, even as I replied, “But why… I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it…I thought it was rather well written”, then after a moment’s silence in utter humiliation as my sister a marketing professional, is rather good at English, I added, “no one has ever trashed my writing, rather just the opposite… Sr. Andrea and Mrs Mandira Bose always supported my writing since junior school – even had my report writing in which I often got 19/20 and business letters 14/15 read out aloud to the class, as exemplary.”

“Go read your writeup again…” Jayshree, my younger sister shot back rather rudely, “what an embarrassment…I even shared it with several colleagues as they subscribed to the paper and one of them pointed it out… before my reading it…”

So, I promptly disconnected the phone, then briskly pulled open the paper and read my own written piece. The original was still on my sulekha.com blog back then. To my horror, the one in the newspaper bore little semblance to my original piece. Worse than that, there were the weirdest of sentences and phrases like “the sun got rising and some such, several strange line constructs…”

With each line I read, I was livid…well that’s a gross understatement. I contemplated waking up my husband and complaining to him that this unfairness was what had happened to me – with the hope that he would defend and fight for my cause and dignity. But this would only be a pipe dream I realised from experience of the last couple of years. So I decided to take the matter(weapon) in my own hands, just like Ma Durga, from the land of my birth, and let sleeping men sleep – while I fought my own demonic patriarchal battles.

I opened my laptop, searched for the email address of the editor in chief of the paper. Then I shot off a strongly worded email, copying a screenshot of my article ‘Mystic Kerala’, in the day’s paper, along with my original piece. The email also reminded him it was my first published article in a newspaper, that I admit I might not be a good writer. But how could such a reputed newspaper publish such a bad piece with horrifically bad language! Didn’t the paper worry about its reputation even if a guest writer’s public reputation is of no concern to the paper. What was the need to rewrite my entire piece in the name of copy editing or whatever they thought it was – they could have rejected the piece outright – I ended with this.

At the time, I was a headhunter, a senior executive search consultant, with a top international HR company. Finding an email address, then writing to a CEO or an MD – was no big deal for me. I met and personally interviewed people of such high stature every other day and then wrote their profile descriptions to send to my clients along with their CVs till negotiating their salaries and hand holding till their joining and induction. In fact I had visited the office of this paper’s Chairman and Managing Director(CMD) twice, just weeks before this, to discuss a proposed senior level placement.

My husband awoke after I had already received a reply from the editor-in -chief, as I had written to him personally, on his official email address. From years of experience, I knew how to make him take notice – as I had pointed out his paper’s reputation being at stake most in the matter, over an unknown debut writer. I had met him at my place a couple of times with my husband’s other colleagues, but I did not remind him of this. Even though I was concerned about my professional image among my clients and candidates, who would come across my name with such a badly written, embarrassing writeup.

I told B the whole story before offering him tea. He became angrier in learning I had written to his chief editor, more than I was angry at the situation meted out to me. But I stood my ground, reminding him that I had a professional image to maintain just as he had his, and that I’m not allowing anyone to trample over it on a whim.

That afternoon, B was called for an impromptu meeting at the office, even though it was a Sunday. On the agenda was also my email to the chief editor – not as my husband but to discuss who had edited and allowed that piece to be published. After he returned home, B was acutely mad at me – much more than when I told him the story or before he left.

I was soon to learn, that the man who had taken up the job of editing my debut travel piece, was none other than B’s friend S who had asked me over dinner at my place months back, to write the piece on ‘The Husband’. This I had written about in Part 1 of ‘The Making of a Book’ in the previous post. I was really upset, but most with B for supporting his friend who I was to learn from other sources later, almost lost his job over my complaint – he had been issued a severe warning.

Perhaps S deserved it I had thought, for choosing to be a journalist with inadequate writing skills. But it was not merely for rewriting a pathetic piece that I had thought he didn’t deserve his job. But for harassing his loyal friend’s recently married wife. I was to learn from B’s mother afterwards, that her son always supported and stood up for his junior colleague and friend S, who always hung around and flattered him as he wasn’t as prolific a writer, thus S banked on B’s support and could retain his job. Then I knew this to be true, when shortly B recommended him for a job, having done so once before when he had lost this job over an issue of arrogance with a woman senior boss. Then his wife left. Later he lost his job during the #Metoo.

You cannot gauge the intentions of your close friends over choices you make of your life. But yet we tend to trust those we know much longer. People like S with misogynistic attitudes are not usually one time, but serial offenders, as such attitudes are deep set.

I was thus glad I had taken up the sword myself, to fight the demon of patriarchy and misogyny – as I have done all alone, ever since. The worst part of patriarchy is that it is mostly supported by women who lack conviction in themselves. And I do not subscribe to such pathetic attitudes. My fight has been through my work assignments, then everything I have written, including my 5 published books and the two manuscripts I have ready for publication.

Charting your path with purpose, involves self-reflection, goal setting, skill development, and consistent effort. It’s about understanding your strengths, defining your aspirations, and taking deliberate steps to achieve them. This includes identifying your values, setting realistic goals, developing necessary skills, and adapting to challenges along the way.

As I have said before, I make the most of what happens to me in life rather than curse my bad luck. We are an outcome of our attitudes, cut out of the rough stones of our life experiences. Thus it’s my experiences that goad my destiny and make me the person I am today – it charts my purpose in life, like cutting and chiseling in marking and building our road on the mountainous track of our life.

The original post that inspired the series of thoughts: https://shuvashreeghosh.wordpress.com/2013/01/19/the-making-of-a-book-part-1/

PS: this post is continued from the previous post …

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Published on June 29, 2025 00:40

Charting your Life’s Path: The Making of a Book…