Trrrrrnng..…
“Hello, this is from the Man Booker advisory committee and I would like to speak to Asha Iyer Kumar, please.”
“You are with Asha,” I drawled, not hearing the first part of what was said to me nor catching the distinct British accent in the voice. That’s what happens when you pick a call while in sleep mode.
“Ms. Kumar, congratulations. This is to inform you that you are the recipient of the Booker this year.”
Still half asleep, I droned, “A cooker?” It could have been from the Hyper Market where I had dropped countless raffle coupons in the past few months. A cooker, when the grand prize was a BMW! Well, something was better than nothing.
“Electric or pressure cooker?”
“Not a cooker, Ms. Kumar. The Booker, Man Booker.”
“Waaaat??” I fell off the cot and hurt the funny bone. I can still feel a dull phantom ache there.
"For what??"
“For your debut novel Sand Storms, Summer Rains.”
This wasn’t funny – this prank. I had almost decided to hang up when I heard the voice say, “The jury has decided that you are the most deserving of all the nominations this year.”
“Eh?” I gulped emptily and squinted at the receiver before putting it back to the ear. “But, this isn’t possible. I hadn’t even got the book into the market when the nominations must have been made.”
“Oh, that wasn’t an issue. We had your manuscript in hand. Almost every literary agent on the globe had a copy and we simply had to make a call to fetch one. Although I must say that they were bewildered at our choice and their inanity. They just had gone a Booker winner slip out of their hands. Lack of business acumen.”
“Oh well... (I am sure I must have rolled my eyes in contempt). But it beats me how the jury ever knew about the book. I haven’t even touched 1000 copies in sales yet.”
“That wasn’t difficult. We knew about your efforts, we knew the hopes you nurtured and gave to other unknown, aspiring writers and we were certain that you could well be on your way to success with some due approval and recognition. It was all that you lacked. We have faith in your work. Your PR efforts have been fantastic so far, especially the way you have trudged along with so little outside support, although we must say they haven’t paid off as well as they should have. Our decision to award you with the Booker should more than make up for that.”
“I thank you for the kind consideration and support, but it kind of makes me feel queasy. Is it possible to not let the world know about this Booker thing? At least until I find a place to hide.”
‘That’s a strange demand to make. You are going to be on every media space as soon as the official announcement is made. It is inevitable.”
“Not a demand, a request, if you may. I have just begun to be a writer. My first work has just gone out in the middle and the second is waiting in the wings to be picked up. The third is still in contemplation and there is so much more left to do before I earn due place in this sphere. I am an amateur with just a lot of dreams in my eyes.”
“It is your dreams that the jury was enamoured of. The inspiration and hope you give to million other struggling authors. You hold promise Ms. Kumar and we would like to acknowledge your accomplishment. We know about your plans to write the biography of a certain Indian TV queen whose life is a “How to” book on just about everything. It isn’t everyday that we come across something as socially and economically viable as this.”
“You mean Rakhi Sawant?”
“That’s the one, I believe. We just have a sketchy notion of your future projects.”
“Oh, it isn’t the best thing to do, but I am toying with the idea just in public interest. It can be a very popular project. I have yet to decide on that.”
“I am sure it will work. You just need to know the difference between what can be popular and what can pop in the market. It is this discernment that makes you deserving of the prize. I hope you will not reject it.”
“Reject? Oh no. I am just hugely embarrassed. It will take a while for me to get used to the idea of being a Booker winner.”
“You will, eventually. When the hype takes over the book and the hope takes over your actual work, you will.”
“Ah, I now have to find a specialist to handle this. It is too much, too soon for me to take in.”
“You had better be quick. Public memory is very short and shorter is your time in fame.”
“Yes, I understand. Thank you for your kind words.”
“Congratulations, once again.”
“Err..I would like to say that I don’t deserve it, but I accept it. Thank you.”
“You are welcome. Must say, your words have a distinct presidential ring. So noble..”
I must have drifted deeper into sleep by then, for I only remember muttering something under my breath before hanging up.
Trrrring…..
It is the morning alarm going off after a 15 minute snooze.
Yet another day in the life of an upstart writer begins.
More mails, more follow ups, more query letters, more PR efforts, more market challenges, more hurdles, more quirky people to contend with, more hopes, more dreams and more miles to tread..
“For your debut novel Sand Storms, Summer Rains.”
This wasn’t funny – this prank. I had almost decided to hang up when I heard the voice say, “The jury has decided that you are the most deserving of all the nominations this year.”
“Eh?” I gulped emptily and squinted at the receiver before putting it back to the ear. “But, this isn’t possible. I hadn’t even got the book into the market when the nominations must have been made.”
“Oh, that wasn’t an issue. We had your manuscript in hand. Almost every literary agent on the globe had a copy and we simply had to make a call to fetch one. Although I must say that they were bewildered at our choice and their inanity. They just had gone a Booker winner slip out of their hands. Lack of business acumen.”
“Oh well... (I am sure I must have rolled my eyes in contempt). But it beats me how the jury ever knew about the book. I haven’t even touched 1000 copies in sales yet.”
“That wasn’t difficult. We knew about your efforts, we knew the hopes you nurtured and gave to other unknown, aspiring writers and we were certain that you could well be on your way to success with some due approval and recognition. It was all that you lacked. We have faith in your work. Your PR efforts have been fantastic so far, especially the way you have trudged along with so little outside support, although we must say they haven’t paid off as well as they should have. Our decision to award you with the Booker should more than make up for that.”
“I thank you for the kind consideration and support, but it kind of makes me feel queasy. Is it possible to not let the world know about this Booker thing? At least until I find a place to hide.”
‘That’s a strange demand to make. You are going to be on every media space as soon as the official announcement is made. It is inevitable.”
“Not a demand, a request, if you may. I have just begun to be a writer. My first work has just gone out in the middle and the second is waiting in the wings to be picked up. The third is still in contemplation and there is so much more left to do before I earn due place in this sphere. I am an amateur with just a lot of dreams in my eyes.”
“It is your dreams that the jury was enamoured of. The inspiration and hope you give to million other struggling authors. You hold promise Ms. Kumar and we would like to acknowledge your accomplishment. We know about your plans to write the biography of a certain Indian TV queen whose life is a “How to” book on just about everything. It isn’t everyday that we come across something as socially and economically viable as this.”
“You mean Rakhi Sawant?”
“That’s the one, I believe. We just have a sketchy notion of your future projects.”
“Oh, it isn’t the best thing to do, but I am toying with the idea just in public interest. It can be a very popular project. I have yet to decide on that.”
“I am sure it will work. You just need to know the difference between what can be popular and what can pop in the market. It is this discernment that makes you deserving of the prize. I hope you will not reject it.”
“Reject? Oh no. I am just hugely embarrassed. It will take a while for me to get used to the idea of being a Booker winner.”
“You will, eventually. When the hype takes over the book and the hope takes over your actual work, you will.”
“Ah, I now have to find a specialist to handle this. It is too much, too soon for me to take in.”
“You had better be quick. Public memory is very short and shorter is your time in fame.”
“Yes, I understand. Thank you for your kind words.”
“Congratulations, once again.”
“Err..I would like to say that I don’t deserve it, but I accept it. Thank you.”
“You are welcome. Must say, your words have a distinct presidential ring. So noble..”
I must have drifted deeper into sleep by then, for I only remember muttering something under my breath before hanging up.
Trrrring…..
It is the morning alarm going off after a 15 minute snooze.
Yet another day in the life of an upstart writer begins.
More mails, more follow ups, more query letters, more PR efforts, more market challenges, more hurdles, more quirky people to contend with, more hopes, more dreams and more miles to tread..
1 comment:
Aunty
I read this piece of article about your woderful dream. I liked it very much. And let this dream of you become true... I sure that you will get this soon...wishing you all the best.
your loving
Aashish
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