The ignominy and self-importance of it all

Know that fable about the old man the boy and the donkey…? Half the people scolded the boy for sitting on the donkey while his Da walked alongside. And when they switched, the other half admonished the father for sitting on the donkey while the little boy walked. And there they went on their weary way, never knowing what was the right thing to do. (Luckily they didn’t get badgered into carrying the donkey or something.)

Ok – so that’s a little how I felt a few weeks ago, when various people said great, you’ve ARRIVED, your book’s being published by an actual publisher, and not some self-publishing stunt. Mid-way between my taking an immodest bow, a whole lot of people said quite the opposite thing: hey, you wrote some story, good for you – now get started on the real work: PROMOTING it. Publishers are like parents, I am told – they can push you out there in the world, but then you got to make a mark all on your own. And how are you going to do that if no one knows you and your book exist, haan?

So fired with this fear, that the book (hereinafter referred to as 3, Zakia Mansion, and further hereinafter referred to as 3ZM) would come, be celebrated and bought by near and dear ones – amounting to a total of 120 people – and then gather dust and find its way in big stacks to the raddiwalla, I made some serious stabs at PUBLICITY AND PROMOTION all on my own.

One thing is for sure: The next time I hear about someone successfully and ruthlessly pushing their own book/child/performing dog/paintings/musicCD, I will definitely not snigger and look superior. Because now I know that while they smile and bow and sign autographs and dance to the bank and all, they must have got there only after some rather ignominious and absurd private moments on that road to being rich and famous.

So while I’m still poor and unknown, and have no stake in appearing like I was born to fame and fortune, I have to document some of my forays into promoting Self and 3ZM.

First, I decide to do some ‘inner work’. I practice looking at pictures of ethereal Jhumpa and otherworldly Arundhati and not say to myself – “gosh, no wonder my publisher didn’t ask for my picture for the back of the book”. I conjure up the dictums delivered unconvincingly by my mother when I was 15: “Beauty is as Beauty Does.” And other such words of encouragement trademarked by Maharashtrian mothers (MMs). Talk about grounding your kids in reality. MM’s bury you in the stuff. All of us daughters of MMs are Anarkalis entombed in reality, I tell you.
Ok, so inner work shakily in place, I skip off to a small bookstore in a leafy lane. The big chains my Publisher will look after, is my logic. The small ones, I must ‘work’. Note, I don’t at this time, actually have a copy of 3ZM in hand yet. I walk into the store, and half way through the enterprise, but too late to retract, it occurs to me, that this is like selling agarbattis in a train. Only, worse, without the jhola filled with agarbattis. This is fast turning into a waking version of one of those nightmares in which you walk into your class wearing just the essentials and the school tie – you’ve forgotten to put on your school uniform. Anyway, now it’s too late, as the nice lady in the small shop looks at me and smiles. I utter the words and hear them echoing foolishly in my head: “Hi, I’m a writer. My book is coming out soon.” It’s early May, very hot, and the lady may have pushed the chair towards me and poured me a glass of water quite naturally – or then, maybe she thought all odd people who walk in out of the street and make such dubious declarations, need to be calmed, humoured, and sent kindly off on their zigzag way. Which is what she did. As I zigzagged home, I told myself that I have to do this again only when I have an advance copy of 3ZM in my hand and photographic proof (passport, licence or PAN card) that I am the writer. Otherwise I would continue to get the maaf karo agay jao reserved for the agarbatti seller and that too one without agargbattis in hand.

(….to be continued. I still don’t look like Jhumpa or Arundhati, but now I have advance copies of the book in hand. However, I am now hearing from the young and restless, who tell me I must book a football stadium, at least, on my own steam, and launch 3ZM to the sound of drum rolls and cheer leaders. But more on my self-promotion tour in a couple of days. I'm busy signing autographs.)

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