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Imposter syndrome

February 21, 2018 by Poornima Manco

Lately there’s been a lot of  “Who, me?” going on in my mind. It has not even been an entire month since I published my book, and the response has been very positive. Much more so than I expected. Particularly as this book was only a proverbial dipping of my toe into publishing waters.

Consequently I have had people asking for the book to be autographed, been called an ‘author’ on a public platform, been asked to hold a book signing event, to donate copies of my books for a charitable cause, to attend a book club meeting to speak about my book, and also an invitation to enter it into an International Book awards competition.

Who, me?????

Now, don’t get me wrong; I have semi-enjoyed all the attention. Secretly, however, I have been unable to shake off the feeling that I am not deserving of it. After all, this slim volume of six short stories is no ‘War and Peace’. Nor is it Shakespeare. A lot of these stories are from very early on in my writing journey, and I know that I have come a fair way since then.

Therefore, I have to wonder if this is some kind of a Tsunami of goodwill that I am witnessing. Colleagues, friends and acquaintances that like me and therefore like my book?

Indie publishing is not an easy task to undertake. It is terribly labour intensive, and for a perfectionist like myself, it means many many sleepless nights. The worst part however, is the marketing side of things. Writers are by nature fairly reclusive people. Even though my friends can vouch for my gregarious and sociable side, they very rarely see the side that just wants to hole up and read or write. So, to actively go out there and promote and advertise my work, has been a very distasteful task.

When the fruits of that labour have started to come in, why am I so meh about it?

I can only put my apathetic response down to the Imposter Syndrome. Defined as a concept describing individuals who are marked by an inability to internalise their accomplishments, and a persistent fear of being exposed as a ‘fraud’.

Yes, me.

The stories are good. I know that. I also know that they are not brilliant. I am not there yet. Hence, all this attention seems overblown and undeserving. That’s the predominant thought in my mind.

On the flip side, I know that this momentum can’t and won’t last. So, why not enjoy it while it does? What’s holding me back?

I dedicated this book to my mother who was my biggest critic and my staunchest advocate while she lived. I often wonder what she would have said, and invariably, this is what I come up with:

Bouquets and Brickbats are par for the course. If you love something, keep on doing it. Give it your best, have no regrets and keep on moving forward, not looking back.

Thank you mummy. That’s exactly what I will do.

 

 

Filed Under: Blog, book, first book, Parvathy's Well & other stories, short stories Tagged With: Books, Characters, Friends, Inspiration, life, Writing

Parvathy’s Well & other stories

February 6, 2018 by Poornima Manco

Well- this is it! The BIG announcement.

My very first book of short stories. A taster/tester of sorts.  A book that’s been in the planning for ummmm, let’s see, nearly 10 years! Actually, a lot longer. As a school friend just reminded me, I had dreams of being an author at age 16. So, those dreams have finally come to fruition.

Now, launching this baby has been a whole other ball game. Social media is always a good place to begin. I have an author page set up, and beside a tonne of my friends joining, I’ve also noticed some very suspect people adding themselves to the list. I went and checked one out. When I noticed he couldn’t even spell ‘frend’ right, I did a mental eye roll. It’s very unlikely that these people are actually going to download/buy and read my book. Sigh!

My Instagram author page is no better. When you have a page dedicated to pugs following you, you have to wonder what kind of publicity you are generating!

Never mind.

My hope is that those who DO buy and read my book are not disappointed. It is a serious read, and it may well be for a very niche group. A group that likes literary fiction, and doesn’t mind that the stories are exploratory of the dark side of life.

I hope, that you my dear followers and readers of this blog, are amongst those.

I will post links to finding my book on Amazon. If none of these apply to you, just look for the title of my book or my name on Amazon worldwide. Once you have read the book, please leave a review on Amazon and Goodreads. I am hungry for feedback and honest criticism. I promise to take it on the chin.

Here are the links:

Ebooks at: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B079DGS78P
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B079DGS78P
http://www.amazon.in/dp/B079DGS78P
Paperbacks: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1973299917
http://www.amazon.com/dp/1973299917

Now, don’t all rush out at once…….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Filed Under: Blog, book, first book, literary fiction, short stories

Patience

January 31, 2018 by Poornima Manco

For those of you wondering where I’ve disappeared to, I am still very much around! I have been working on a project that I hope to announce soon, so watch this space….

Needless to say, I am quite nervous about how this will be received. Aside of the time and work I’ve put into it, there is also the apprehension of being in uncharted territory. Without giving too much away, I would like to enlist all you loyal followers to help me out a bit. The hows and the whys I will detail in a later blog post.

Till then, let me reassure you that I am still going to keep blogging about all kinds of things. Just bear with me, till I find my bearings.

 

Filed Under: Blog

From Nine to Nought?

January 12, 2018 by Poornima Manco

So, as I shared a table at an over crowded gay bar in San Francisco, the German man who had struck up a conversation with my friend, leaned over to me and said, “That is a beautiful colour on you”. He was admiring the tomato red top I had on that evening. I thanked him, and then the conversation veered to where I was from originally. When I said India, he sat back and exclaimed delightedly, “Ah India! Such a beautiful country”. I felt my heart swell with pride till he leaned over once more and asked, “So why don’t Indian women wear sarees anymore?”

Don’t we? I mulled this one over. When was the last time I’d worn a saree? That would be Diwali 2017. That was also the only time in the year I’d worn a saree. I could plead a dozen excuses. After all, the climate in the U.K. doesn’t allow a lot of saree wearing. I lead a very busy life. I travel a lot. The saree is not the most convenient outfit for everyday use. Yet, the sad truth is, I really don’t wear a lot of sarees. Nor do most of my contemporaries.

Trawling through Facebook pictures of some New Year’s Eve party, I was struck by how many overweight Indian women insisted on squeezing themselves into unflattering dresses, when a saree could have covered a multitude of sins, and allowed them to look elegant and beautiful. Instead, there they were, mutton dressed as lamb, wearing mini skirts that displayed wobbly thighs, or halter necks that did little to camouflage their back fat.

Since when did sarees get relegated to fashion oblivion?

Bollywood that sets fashion trends has all its starlets parading on the red carpet in the latest sequinned number from Elie Saab or some such designer. If a mainstream actress decides to wear a saree, she is immediately consigned to the ‘Amma’ (mother) heap. Sarees are passé. They are for the elderly or the behenji (read boring) types. The trendy, modern, fashion forward diva  wouldn’t be caught dead in one. More is the pity.

With a history that dates back to pre BC Indus Valley civilisation, the saree- a single piece of cloth measuring between 5 and 9 yards, has had a rich, varied and symbiotic relationship with the subcontinent. From the multiplicity of its drapes, to its fabrics and designs, it has adorned the female form much longer than most other vestments. Why then, is it so under threat now?

Growing up, all I ever saw my mother wear, were the most exquisite sarees. From Chanderi cottons to Kanjeevaram silks, her wardrobe consisted of a riot of colours, weaves, fabrics and patterns. Her collection of sarees was legendary amongst her peers, and I was constantly reminded how lucky I would be one day to inherit all this. Yet today, those sarees languish in unopened cases, her legacy ignored, if not forgotten entirely.

Is the Indian Saree going the same way as the Japanese Kimono- only to be worn at weddings and special occasions?

My fervent hope is that never happens. The beauty, the elegance and the grace of the traditional attire, the cultural weight it carries, the exoticism it bestows upon its wearer can never be replaced by its western counterpart. There are some incredibly stunning couture dresses out there, but put an Indian woman in a simple khadi saree and watch the transformation.

Designers like Sabyasachi and Ritu Kumar are reinventing the saree for the Millennials. Fashionistas like Sonam Kapoor are donning them with flair at places like Cannes. So, perhaps, the saree isn’t entirely dead? If reinvention is the name of the game, then so be it. Let the saree evolve, but let it survive.

For my part, I intend to dig my mother’s sarees out, and wear them with pride. And as I fold and drape the luxurious silk over me, in some small way I will keep her alive as well.

Filed Under: Blog, culture, saree, sari, tradition Tagged With: indian

#MeToo and why this hashtag matters

January 2, 2018 by Poornima Manco

Year 2017 saw the birth of a new movement called #MeToo. Right on the heels of the sexual misconduct charges against Weinstein, a feeling of kinship and a need to tell their own stories led to the emergence of this hashtag. #MeToo spoke for women who had buried, suppressed, hidden and suffered their own indignities at the hands of men over the years. A sisterhood that had been bound in chains of silence because of the shame associated with their experiences or the powers that muffled their voices. Not any more.

As #MeToo gained momentum, more stories emerged. Stories of workplace sexual harassment. Stories of sexual assault on women too young to fight back, too scared to speak up, too powerless to defend themselves. Stories of careers sabotaged of those who refused to succumb. From celebrity origins it spread like wildfire with the quotidian accounts of the everywoman. It made news because it shone a light on a disease that a largely patriarchal society had accepted and condoned. ‘Boys will be boys’ no longer washed, and women were fighting their corner with every ounce of outrage they possessed. Hashtag after hashtag proclaimed ‘Me too’. Some simply whispered it, while others detailed the hows, the whens and the ignominy of their experiences being repeatedly ignored.

From someone who has suffered sexual harassment at the hands of men starting from the tender age of eight, I added my voice to the hashtag. It has been many years since the last incident occurred, but I cannot forget the feelings of shame, helplessness and disgust that I felt back then. Why did it stop? Because I moved continents, and started a career path that had women on an equal platform as men. Yet those early incidents left an indelible mark on my psyche.

Being propositioned by a roadside hawker when I was young enough to be his grand daughter. A passerby stopping his vehicle and exposing his genitals as I walked home from school. Being groped in a temple by a stranger. Heavy breathing and threats of rape over the phone by a male classmate. A forty year old friend of my father asking an eighteen year old me to call him directly on his ‘bedroom line’. A superior at work taking advantage of my naiveté and planting an uncalled for kiss on me. Incident after incident that left me feeling violated in a billion different ways.

Each time I wondered why? Had I done something to lead them on? Had I dressed provocatively? Did I come across as sexually uninhibited? Little did I know back then, that women the world over were facing these humiliations and asking themselves the same questions.

Sexual assault or sexual harassment has very little to do with sexual gratification. It is power play, pure and simple. Men, whether they are superior in rank, age, strength or because society deems it so, wield that power over women in every arena, including the sexual one. Not all men, but I’ll come to that later. If a sexual encounter is to be a pleasurable one, it needs to be consensual. Yet consent is something that these men trample all over. They get their kicks through the fear and vulnerability of their victims.

How does one fight back? After all, not only is sexism institutionalised, it is practically an institution in itself. If #MeToo is anything to go by, then joining hands, exposing the perpetrators and standing up for what is right, can be a start. Easier said than done however. Education is the foundation of everything. Education that begins at home and is carried on throughout life. Education that portrays women as equals not to be preyed upon or ill used. Education that is subliminal, ideological, conscious and subconscious. Education in the messages that are given and received from various platforms, be it entertainment or media. Education that emphasises that women aren’t just baby machines or primary caregivers, Madonnas or whores. Education.

Criticisms of #MeToo have been that its ubiquity diluted its message, or that the LGBTQ communities found little or no representation, or that minor misdemeanours were categorised alongside major assaults, and that all men were tarred with the same brush. While there is merit in these accusations, it is important to recognise the spirit behind the movement. For the first time, in a long time, perhaps even since the Suffragette movement of the 1900’s or the feminist movement hitting its stride in 1960’s, were women banding together and calling attention to their respective stories. Change has to begin somewhere and in 2017, it began with one woman saying to another, “Me too”.

Nearing the end of the second decade of the 21st century, one can only hope that more voices chime in to stamp out behaviour that is absolutely abhorrent and unacceptable. Men, good men, who were equally horrified to see the extent of the problem, become a part of the solution. Shut down the locker room talk, stop viewing the female sex as commodities, take responsibility for your actions, and speak up when you see an injustice. Not too much to ask for.

As a mother to two teenage girls, I hope I have planted the seeds of self worth and self respect in them. They have watched the dynamic between my husband and I all their lives. Our roles have been fluid, flexible even, with each of us happy to take on traditional and non traditional parts. We are equals, we are partners and we are immensely lucky to think the same way about gender and equality. Moving forward, I hope my girls and countless others step into a world that is less skewed in favour of men. I hope they never have to encounter abuse or power play, and if they do, they are equipped to fight back and stand their ground.

#MeToo may not be a perfect movement, but it is an important one. By highlighting the extent of the problem, it has called attention to the behaviours that support and perpetrate abuse of power. Important people have lost their jobs and livelihoods because zero tolerance has kicked in. Companies are recognising that this sort of behaviour is unsupportable. Individuals who thought they were above the law, are finding themselves out in the cold.

Just as we take our voting rights or birth control rights for granted today, I hope a day in the not-too-distant future, will see us take our safety in the workplace, our rights over our bodies and swift and immediate punishment for anyone who violates us, for granted as well. Then and only then, can #MeToo die a quiet, acceptable death.

Until then, keep chiming in, keep telling your stories, keep supporting one another. For in numbers lies our strength, and in unity lies our success.

For those who are willing to go a step further to ensure that all voices are heard and there is accountability for all perpetrators, read and contribute to the #TIMESUP movement:

www.timesupnow.com

In solidarity and with respect, #MeToo.

Filed Under: Blog, change, movement, thought piece

Thank you

December 17, 2017 by Poornima Manco

What can I say? It has been the most marvellous experience collating all the various guest blog posts that I’ve had the good fortune of being able to showcase on my blog. From experiences to thought pieces, from fiction to poetry, from opinion pieces to slice of life offerings, I have enjoyed the process of collecting and presenting this fascinating array of articles. A huge thank you to all my contributors! Such talent, such imagination, such wisdom and such depth and breadth of experience. I am truly grateful, and humbled to have been a conduit for all of that.

Becca is an incredibly creative soul. If there any kind of artistic pie, you can bet your bottom dollar she’s got a finger in it. In her article, A story of many strands – Becca Robbins, she talks of her love for knitting. From choosing the yarn, to its transformation into something beautiful and wearable, she allows us to be a part of its journey. Never will I ever look at a hand knit sweater in the same way again.

Mahika’s article, The BIG difference: J20 and H20- Mahika M, was actually a school project. She had insisted on reading it out to me while I was completing certain chores about the house. Not being of a very scientific bent of mind, I was only half listening to this essay about water, when in spite of myself, I found myself riveted in the way she had taken a rather dry (or wet) subject, and made it understandable. In comparing J20 a soft drink that most teenagers gravitate towards, and water, that most of us take for granted, she managed to display the latter’s incredible qualities and obvious superiority to any other liquid on the planet. Much to her discomfiture, I insisted on including it in my guest blogs. Do have a read as it educates without patronising, and is full of subtle humour.

Inside the city in me – Bharat Shekhar, was Bharat’s contribution to my blog. Bharat is a very well known poet in Delhi. He has written a few children’s books and also writes prolifically about current affairs and politics in India. However, it is his poetry that is truly magical. His words have the power to transport you to another realm. They wrap themselves around your mind and then penetrate your heart to finally set up residence in your soul. I am in awe of his prowess and look forward to reading so much more of his works.

James’ Examples of found articles circa state controlled Serenity. 2356 AD – James Dhanjal was a Science Fiction piece that was very well liked by my followers on WordPress. Not being particularly accomplished in this genre, I truly enjoyed reading and displaying this story. Imagination is a wonderful thing, and other people’s imagination even more so. James took me into a dystopian future where a State run program has gone very very wrong. Disturbing and fascinating.

A lot has been said in the Indian Press about the state of pollution in Delhi. Yet, a poignant piece from Melissa Breathless – Melissa Singh, a resident of Delhi, spoke volumes about the noxious air that the inhabitants of the city are breathing. Her question is a simple one: is this the price of progress? Something to ponder.

Johanna confronted tradition and discrimination in her insightful and discerning The Dutch tradition of Black Pete – a jolly children’s friend, or a racist caricature? Johanna Brunt. It is so easy to accept and follow certain practices as gospel just because there is tradition attached to them. How much harder it is to try and understand that it maybe time to change a hurtful and discriminatory custom. How much harder to place yourself in the shoes of the other, and feel as they do. Johanna did all this and more, going as far as to suggest the alternative of Roetpiet as the future of Black Pete. Will the Dutch do the right thing? That remains to be seen. However, as long as there are empathetic, open minded and forward thinking individuals like Johanna, I still have hope.

Hope was the light that shone in Sonia’s The games women play – Sonia Narayanan. An avid sports follower and an extremely talented writer, Sonia showed just how far Indian sportswomen have come in the last few decades. With meagre resources and next to no support, it is iron will and determination that allowed these young women to conquer all kinds of hurdles to emerge victorious in various sporting arenas. As India changes its outlook towards women in sports, a golden era beckons. Long may it last and more power to these incredible girls!

Pecking order by Prianka was a cry from the heart. A cry of a thirteen year old girl who feels neglected and sidelined by her peers for her non conformist ways. It was a tough piece to write, as it exposed all of Prianka’s vulnerabilities and hurt. Yet, as a writer, it is when you lay yourself bare that you connect with your audience. So many people reached out to her through me, and through the blog, to say, hold on and stay true to yourself. Hierarchies diminish and disappear. Individuality rarely does.

The last article, The impossibility of saying anything even remotely comprehensible…… by Michael-Eric Schwaabe ,was Michael’s brilliantly sharp observation on how communication can sometimes fail us. When thoughts, ideas, social structures and strictures are subconsciously embedded in our psyches, we find words inadequate in bridging chasms of understanding. Yet, the point is to never give up. In trial and error, in non or misunderstanding, there is still the attempt to reach a solution. In reaching out to the other, we are expanding our own boundaries and that can only be a good thing.

I know my Guest month overran somewhat. With so many wonderful, diverse articles to display, I had little choice but to let it.

“We need to give each other the space to grow, to be ourselves, to exercise our diversity. We need to give each other space so that we may both give and receive such beautiful things as ideas, openness, dignity, joy, healing, and inclusion.”
— Max de Pree

 

 

Filed Under: Blog, guest blog month

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