Just the other day, I bumped into Jasbir, an old friend of mine, on North Main Road at KP, buying Osho Chappals . Hadn’t seen the fellow in years. “Hello yaar,” he said, “whatcho doing here?”
“I should be asking you that. Last time I saw you was on Dhole Patil Road, hogging parathas at Nandu’s.”
“Pyare, I asked the queshchin first,” and he tapped me on the shoulder with a chappal, making the stall boss squeak in surprise. “Whatcho doing here?”
“You thought I had vanished eh?”
“Not like that. I thought you’d be at some book fair or litfest.”
“Since when have you become tuned in to book fairs and litfests?”
“All because of my Sweetie. She’s just arrived.”
“Sweetie? Where did she go to?”
“She didn’t go anywhere. She’s arrived. She’s famous. She was on air and everybody in our society is talking about how she’s going to be the next Indian answer to Potterwalla Rolling. She’s simply cooking up new fairy stories one after another yaar. I’m trying to get her on to Page 3.”
Poor fairy, sorry I mean, Sweetie, I thought to myself, as quietly as possible. I say this because I’m usually known to think out aloud, causing confusion. The last time I saw Sweetie was when she was a titch of a creature dressed up in pink clutching Juhi’s little finger. She couldn’t be very much more than that.
“Aarey.” said Jas, having another go at my shoulder with the poor Osho chappal, “you should see my Sweetie now. She’s a writer. An eight-year-old writer.’
Gosh, what an effort that girl must have had to make to genetically break away and become ….
Jas was on a roll, ambling down North Main, patting me on the shoulder, disregarding the stall boss hissing out to him to stop and pay for his weapon. “My Sweetie wrote a book, Fairy Friend. It’s a real book with a front cover and a back cover. Published by Little People Books.”
“Where are they based?”
“Right here. In Pune. In my house. Juhi and I started it. We launched her out three months ago and now she’s arrived.”
“She’s back pretty fast.” And we both laughed.
“We want her to grow up like our Pune celebrity Sonja Chandrachud, the original Indian answer to Potterwalla Rowling who has written funtastic stuff. We want her to be a real Pune woman writer…” and so he waffled on and finally paid for his weapon, hurriedly wished me “bon voyage” (don’t know why) and vanished, leaving the stall boss clutching a single chappal.
So Sweetie is on the way to stardom. Like so many little starlets in our city. We have progressive parents who really want to get their darlings into the limelight. They know best, I’m sure.
Coming to think of it… it’s not really easy to step into Sonja Chandrachud’s shoes….with her engaging narrative skills, or into the shoes of the emotive Shilpa Gupta, or Pervin Saket or Tanushree Podder or Gauri Dange or Leele Broome or Kavita Kane or… our city’s women writers are giving the men on both sides of the river, a run for their money. And this is not being flippant … it is acknowledging the emerging power of women’s literature.
Thanks Jas, Juhi and Sweetie, you really got me thinking.
Randhir Khare is an awardwinning writer, teacher, artist and storyteller who has mentored a whole generation of creative talent. He is Director of Gyaan Adab, Pune’s premier cultural centre. Randhir Khare writes every Wednesday for Pune365.
- Randhir Khare: I am my own Competitor, says Sudipta Mukherjee - November 9, 2016
- Randhir Khare: Art is now a commodity - November 2, 2016
- Randhir Khare:A Curious Adventure - October 19, 2016
