Hello,
I woke up in a good mood today, I got the final edits of Project US. It will be my next novel and it is me returning to my Young Adult genre. I was also preparing my schedule to work on End of the Line 2. For giggles I sometimes google myself, it is a form of procrastination I will admit. I do not expect to be the next J.K. Rowling, but I have heard horror stories of other authors saying they find their work on pirating websites so I just like to keep an eye to see if I have hit that level.
I enjoyed seeing some people using my quotes on tumblr with cute pictures. I see quotes from Family Ties and End of the Line. I even saw a pinterest board named after one of the letters from Beneath the Scars. There were a couple other sites, pictures, and even some articles that have used my quotes. Honestly, I never thought that something like that would happen.
I came across a few sights that claimed that you could download my books for free if you signed up. I tried, but I didn't create a username/password so I only got so far. Then I came up to a discussion board. In this board there was a person asking how to download Beneath the Scars for free. It was nice to see a few people on the board talk about how they liked the book. There was one person suggesting a site to do so. Yet, there was only one person on the discussion board who stood up and said that's called pirating, and it's illegal. The person went on further saying how harmful it is for the author.
It is true I don't write for the money. However, I tend to put my books for a cheaper price. I tend to do a good amount of giveaways and made my ebooks free for libraries. I have also donated paperbacks a couple of times to libraries. I even post about how I need reviewers and that I'm giveaway free copies. It is one thing to think, okay I'm sure there are a few people getting free copies online, but to see it in writing is a little hurtful. The person also suggested borrowing from a friend. My friends and I would do that all the time in high school. There were a few books that six of us were rotating with. I have bought used copies of books when I am low on money.
So please...don't be a pirate go to your local library! Even if you have to contact the author. I know if someone asked me I'd see if their library has a copy, and if not I'd find them a deal or help them out.
Tuesday, 14 July 2015
Monday, 13 July 2015
RIP, dear mom
She had been sinking; her weak lungs and heart trying their best to function normally. She had already drifted away into unconsciousness. When I came to see her today, I remembered and cherished the conversations we had till a couple of days ago. Then, in the evening, the doctor called me. "Have one last look," he said. They showed me the multiple lines on a pink graph paper, pointed to the time and said the end came at 5.56 pm.
My mother had been fighting old age even as her body was getting weaker and weaker. She was fiercely independent. She had amazing reserves energy to keep herself going. She tried her best, until she just couldn't.
She enjoyed the reputation of being a fine cook. Everyone in family always spoke of the many curries, sweets and other delicacies she made. Her tea had a unique taste; no one knew how she managed to get the right taste. A gift, I am sure.
Slowly, she stopped cooking. Then, she stopped washing vessels. She just used to prepare a cup of tea in the night. One day that too stopped. During the last few days she was just eating barely enough to keep herself going.
On the first of July, she seemed to have contracted a chest infection. We got a nearby physician to examine her. Since it looked like she wasn't getting better, on the eighth, we moved to her to a nearby hospital. On the next couple of days, she seemed to be getting better. But the doctor said the infection had weakened her lungs. She also seemed to have had a very mild heart attack a few days earlier, because of which the heart too was weak. The doctor was just hoping that things would get better, especially since two important organs weren't working to their full capacity.
During the last couple of days, her condition worsened, and today evening, she left for her heavenly abode.
One regret, if at all, was that she never wanted to be in hospital. And sadly, her last days had to be in one. But, mercifully, she didn't have to suffer much. She was 84, and lived a full life.
You leave behind tons and tons of good memories. You will never go away from my thoughts.
Rest in Peace, dear amma.
My mother had been fighting old age even as her body was getting weaker and weaker. She was fiercely independent. She had amazing reserves energy to keep herself going. She tried her best, until she just couldn't.
She enjoyed the reputation of being a fine cook. Everyone in family always spoke of the many curries, sweets and other delicacies she made. Her tea had a unique taste; no one knew how she managed to get the right taste. A gift, I am sure.
Slowly, she stopped cooking. Then, she stopped washing vessels. She just used to prepare a cup of tea in the night. One day that too stopped. During the last few days she was just eating barely enough to keep herself going.
On the first of July, she seemed to have contracted a chest infection. We got a nearby physician to examine her. Since it looked like she wasn't getting better, on the eighth, we moved to her to a nearby hospital. On the next couple of days, she seemed to be getting better. But the doctor said the infection had weakened her lungs. She also seemed to have had a very mild heart attack a few days earlier, because of which the heart too was weak. The doctor was just hoping that things would get better, especially since two important organs weren't working to their full capacity.
During the last couple of days, her condition worsened, and today evening, she left for her heavenly abode.
One regret, if at all, was that she never wanted to be in hospital. And sadly, her last days had to be in one. But, mercifully, she didn't have to suffer much. She was 84, and lived a full life.
You leave behind tons and tons of good memories. You will never go away from my thoughts.
Rest in Peace, dear amma.
Cover Revealing ~ Project US
Hello!
It's been a little bit since I have released a novel myself. However, I have one that is coming this August. This story is a touchy one for me, I'd been sitting on it for awhile, it was my go to story to work on when I had writer's block. Project US is based off a dream that I had when I was a freshman in high school. The dream had actual people in my high school, nope I'm not sharing names ;)
I remember coming home most days from high school and writing a chapter or two a day. I would post the chapters on my freewebs website that my friends all had a link to. I would get back feedback from my friends as I posted, and it might have spread around to other people in my grade as well. Oops! Over the years characters were put in, or taken out. I have completely changed the beginning and the ending. Yet, the characters Rachel and Nick have been a constant, and all of the emotions in this book. I would also say it is nice to wait this long and find out there is a genre called Romantic Suspense! I didn't know about that genre when I was in high school. These two hold a special place in my heart and I hope they do for others as well.
For now enjoy the cover reveal and the sample. Keep your eyes open because Project US will be released August 7, 2015!!
Rachel is used to being in control of her emotions, never letting anyone get close to the real her. Nick is exactly the kind of guy Rachel has been trying to avoid getting involved with. Yet, when their school arranges a mysterious project that puts them together, they soon become trapped in a marriage that turns out to be real and legally binding, and they aren’t the only ones.
While their parents try to get four hundred students out of these marriages with legal help, the teenagers must live in a compound with their respective spouses for the duration of the project. Being trapped together leaves no room for denials. As Nick begins to fall for Rachel, she does everything in her power to avoid his charms and protect her heart. All she wants is to get out of the marriage, but does she truly want out, or is she only lying to herself?
Scene:
"Look," he paused; locking eyes with her and his eyes were tensed seeming to be filled with such emotions. "I have never felt this way about a girl, and to be honest I didn't want to ever feel this way about anyone."
She felt his fingers interlacing with her as he took a step closer bringing the two to a point where they were almost touching.
"But, I love you," he whispered as his other hand brushed some of her dark hair out of her face, such a small gesture made her wonder if her heart would leap out of her chest.
The bus hit a bump causing my book to jump out of my hands and my friend Bridget next to me jolt back awake. Glaring I bent over to pick up my book from the floor. I didn't grow up with long road trips and this one with school toVirginia was seriously killing me. Reading in a car gave me a headache, but I was so beyond bored I decided to risk it. My inner mind was as jittery as the characters from being stuck on this bus for so long.
I swear bus drivers purposely choose to drive over the big bumps and pot holes at obnoxious speeds to be annoying," Bridget mumbled shifting in her seat in an attempt to fall back to sleep.
"I know the feeling," I answered not really paying attention to what my friend for years was saying.
Narrowing my eyes, I scanned the pages striving to find where I was in the book as I flipped through the pages.
I really needed to figure out where I left off! Just because it was unrealistic moment in the paperback didn't mean I shouldn't enjoy a book. It wasn’t the author’s fault that the guys in my grade sucked.
"Oh God, I know that scowl," Bridget spoke in an even tone as I started tossing through again looking for key words. "Romantic scene?"
"Yup," I replied keeping my voice short, making the 'p' pop.
"You really don't have to be so cynical about love," Bridget said and I raised an eyebrow at my friend.
Bridget was wearing a floor length, peasant style, black skirt. In addition to wearing one of her corsets, a white one with black lace designs on the front with cap short sleeves. Bridget had brown ringlets. Her hair had a little volume not that I could relate with my hair that had a slight wave to it, but mine was thin. Bridget was wearing her spider choker and matching dangling earrings. She had thick black eyeliner on almost in Egyptian style.
"But, but it's so much fun picking on the lovey dovey airheads in books," I faked a whine, batting my eyelashes at my friend.
"I really can't wait until you fall in love and I can poke you for all the details all the while laughing at you because I was right," Bridget verbally jabbed before starting to repeatedly diving her finger in and out of my shoulder.
"When that day happens, I'll allow you to drop a piano on my head," I muttered.
I started to finger-stab her back, giving up a second on searching for where I was in my book to get her back. We were fifteen years old in our sophomore year of high school, but we still had our childish moments. She and I still meander into the Disney store despite the stares that we might receive. We met in sixth grade, but really bonded in eighth grade homeroom when we became closer each day over the dumbest things.
"A piano would kill you, when would I be able to gloat with you dead?" she laughed.
"Love you too."
Bridget just grinned.
We were getting a little edgy, the class trip started very early in the morning before the sun had even started to peek into the sky and we were still not done driving from central New Jersey to Virginia. Morning wasn't any of our friends apparently…
"Man, why couldn't you and I be sharing a room?" I questioned, feeling my shoulders slump.
"I know, I really wonder who we're rooming with."
Leave it to school to turn a fun trip, a few days from classes into a project. The project was vague, 'something to teach us about working together so we can further understand the responsibility of adulthood'. Their words, not mine, my wording would be 'waste of time along with frustration of working with someone you wouldn't normally deal with'. I guess that actually could be the same wording for high school, no wonder they didn't use it. It was part of some new curriculum that the state wanted to test out on my grade. I really feel like my grade really gets all the new tests, new scheduling, added a section to the state test, and now this! We were just now taking our eighth grade trip because, the school delayed it for two years just for this project. Would two projects really be so bad?
"Think positively, maybe you'll get someone you really don't know."
I raised my eyebrow again.
"That won't take much, our grade is what, four hundred people?" I inquired thinking I really didn't care to know most of them.
Bridget shrugged, "Sounds about right."
"Aren't you worried about who you're working with?" I asked, trying to figure out if she was only as calm as she was because she was still waking up.
"Not everyone is as crazy curious as you are," she continued rubbing her eyes a little. "Did I mess up the eyes?"
I shook my head.
"I can't help it, I don't want to screw up a grade and that is a long time to work with someone."
"True, I'll worry about it when we cross that road."
I fused my eyebrows and my green eyes met her dark brown ones.
"Why can't you and I ever be calm at the same time?"
She smirked. "We balance each other out what can I say love."
I gave a light laugh. "Isn't that the truth."
An hour later our bus finally pulled up behind the other buses from our school at our hotel. The girls and boys were separated on the buses, which wasn't a detail that was presented onto us until people started to tell what their bus numbers were. Nick March, he and I have had classes together since kindergarten were talking about our bus numbers when the whole homeroom noticed the segregation of the sexes.
Nick March and I have an odd relationship and always have for as long as I can remember. We were school friends, talked when we had classes together, might say "Hi" in the halls, but never tried to hangout with each other outside of school. We were not on that level. Nick and I talk about whatever, school, movies, and random jokes or comments during class when we are near each other. This was a guy who saved me a swing once in kindergarten the day we met. He hung out with a slightly different crowd when we got to high school.
I've heard him in homeroom talking about the parties he's gone to, and having to sneak back into his house at God forsaken hours. That would never happen to me in my wildest dreams. I never really saw that side of him and I was more than okay with that. However I was pretty sure he wanted to wring my neck for trying to figure out what the project was. He was trying to push away the thought of doing more homework I knew it. We've worked enough together in class for me to know when he was trying to avoid school work.
Our two chaperons on our bus, Miss Barnes and Ms. Dixon finally seemed to remember the purpose to this trip as their discussion stopped. Miss Barnes was my English teacher who still had a very sweet childish face even though she was probably in her thirties. She had dark red hair that curled at her shoulders and freckles across her nose. She was fishing in her purse for something as Ms. Dixon my math teacher had her everlastingly formed glower on her face, a raised dark eyebrow towards Miss Barnes. Ms. Dixon had dark curly hair in a low pony tale that she wore every single day. Ms. Dixon unlike Miss Barnes did not have an endless supply of patience.
"Tell me you did not lose the room keys," Ms. Dixon spoke, her words direct, and sharp.
"I did not misplace the keys Ally. I just have a lot of stuff in my bag," Miss Barnes giggled. "Companies make bags so big these days. It's hard not to put a whole lot of stuff in them!"
Ms. Dixon didn't even crack a smile as Miss Barnes head bobbed left to right, probably humming to herself as she searched for the keys; she did that in class…
"Aha!" She wore a grand grin on her face as she held up the bundle of keys, Ms. Dixon stone face lacked the enthusiasm that Miss Barnes' had.
"Lovely, you can do your job." Ms. Dixon remarked.
Miss Barnes rolled her eyes, she did work with high school students after all. Understanding sarcasm was teaching 101. Comments never seemed to penetrate her optimism. "Was your sense of humor accidentally tossed out of the bus window? Live a little!" Miss Barnes stood up in the middle of the aisle. "Ladies! I'm about to pass out your keys so we can get the ball rolling. Make sure you listen to the directions very carefully and answer the room phones because you guys were not allowed to bring any electronics on the trip. Now, Laurie Doyle where are you?"
I turned my head taking a deep breath before letting it go slowly, in an attempt to calm my nerves from popping around like popcorn kernels in a microwave. I watched as the boys walked, jumped, and ran off their buses into the chaotic mess that was the mob of boys trying to get a hold of their belongings under the buses. I was truly not looking forward to pushing through people to grab my duffle bag. The crowd of males slowly dwindled as they were herded into the building.
It's been a little bit since I have released a novel myself. However, I have one that is coming this August. This story is a touchy one for me, I'd been sitting on it for awhile, it was my go to story to work on when I had writer's block. Project US is based off a dream that I had when I was a freshman in high school. The dream had actual people in my high school, nope I'm not sharing names ;)
I remember coming home most days from high school and writing a chapter or two a day. I would post the chapters on my freewebs website that my friends all had a link to. I would get back feedback from my friends as I posted, and it might have spread around to other people in my grade as well. Oops! Over the years characters were put in, or taken out. I have completely changed the beginning and the ending. Yet, the characters Rachel and Nick have been a constant, and all of the emotions in this book. I would also say it is nice to wait this long and find out there is a genre called Romantic Suspense! I didn't know about that genre when I was in high school. These two hold a special place in my heart and I hope they do for others as well.
For now enjoy the cover reveal and the sample. Keep your eyes open because Project US will be released August 7, 2015!!
Project US
Rachel is used to being in control of her emotions, never letting anyone get close to the real her. Nick is exactly the kind of guy Rachel has been trying to avoid getting involved with. Yet, when their school arranges a mysterious project that puts them together, they soon become trapped in a marriage that turns out to be real and legally binding, and they aren’t the only ones.
While their parents try to get four hundred students out of these marriages with legal help, the teenagers must live in a compound with their respective spouses for the duration of the project. Being trapped together leaves no room for denials. As Nick begins to fall for Rachel, she does everything in her power to avoid his charms and protect her heart. All she wants is to get out of the marriage, but does she truly want out, or is she only lying to herself?
Scene:
1
Rachel
His fingers grazed hers bringing her attention back up to those brown eyes that had become so familiar to her. The air seemed to be stuck in her throat as she was trying to find the words to say to him. This was the guy that she was finding herself to be in love with. She was still in disbelief that this was actually happening to her. Butterflies seemed to flutter every time he even glanced in her direction. His mere touch seemed to turn her body aflame leaving her skin to tingle in the aftermath of his fingers. These feelings inside of her were new, almost making her nervous yet, happy.
"Look," he paused; locking eyes with her and his eyes were tensed seeming to be filled with such emotions. "I have never felt this way about a girl, and to be honest I didn't want to ever feel this way about anyone."
She felt his fingers interlacing with her as he took a step closer bringing the two to a point where they were almost touching.
"But, I love you," he whispered as his other hand brushed some of her dark hair out of her face, such a small gesture made her wonder if her heart would leap out of her chest.
Little by little, he slowly drew close to her face. Her eyes drifted close as she could feel his lips about to grace hers for the very first time stealing her breath away. Her heart started to speed up as his lips started to timidly
The bus hit a bump causing my book to jump out of my hands and my friend Bridget next to me jolt back awake. Glaring I bent over to pick up my book from the floor. I didn't grow up with long road trips and this one with school to
I swear bus drivers purposely choose to drive over the big bumps and pot holes at obnoxious speeds to be annoying," Bridget mumbled shifting in her seat in an attempt to fall back to sleep.
"I know the feeling," I answered not really paying attention to what my friend for years was saying.
Narrowing my eyes, I scanned the pages striving to find where I was in the book as I flipped through the pages.
I really needed to figure out where I left off! Just because it was unrealistic moment in the paperback didn't mean I shouldn't enjoy a book. It wasn’t the author’s fault that the guys in my grade sucked.
"Oh God, I know that scowl," Bridget spoke in an even tone as I started tossing through again looking for key words. "Romantic scene?"
"Yup," I replied keeping my voice short, making the 'p' pop.
"You really don't have to be so cynical about love," Bridget said and I raised an eyebrow at my friend.
Bridget was wearing a floor length, peasant style, black skirt. In addition to wearing one of her corsets, a white one with black lace designs on the front with cap short sleeves. Bridget had brown ringlets. Her hair had a little volume not that I could relate with my hair that had a slight wave to it, but mine was thin. Bridget was wearing her spider choker and matching dangling earrings. She had thick black eyeliner on almost in Egyptian style.
"But, but it's so much fun picking on the lovey dovey airheads in books," I faked a whine, batting my eyelashes at my friend.
"I really can't wait until you fall in love and I can poke you for all the details all the while laughing at you because I was right," Bridget verbally jabbed before starting to repeatedly diving her finger in and out of my shoulder.
"When that day happens, I'll allow you to drop a piano on my head," I muttered.
I started to finger-stab her back, giving up a second on searching for where I was in my book to get her back. We were fifteen years old in our sophomore year of high school, but we still had our childish moments. She and I still meander into the Disney store despite the stares that we might receive. We met in sixth grade, but really bonded in eighth grade homeroom when we became closer each day over the dumbest things.
"A piano would kill you, when would I be able to gloat with you dead?" she laughed.
I smiled rolling my eyes.
"Love you too."
Bridget just grinned.
We were getting a little edgy, the class trip started very early in the morning before the sun had even started to peek into the sky and we were still not done driving from central New Jersey to Virginia. Morning wasn't any of our friends apparently…
"Man, why couldn't you and I be sharing a room?" I questioned, feeling my shoulders slump.
"I know, I really wonder who we're rooming with."
Leave it to school to turn a fun trip, a few days from classes into a project. The project was vague, 'something to teach us about working together so we can further understand the responsibility of adulthood'. Their words, not mine, my wording would be 'waste of time along with frustration of working with someone you wouldn't normally deal with'. I guess that actually could be the same wording for high school, no wonder they didn't use it. It was part of some new curriculum that the state wanted to test out on my grade. I really feel like my grade really gets all the new tests, new scheduling, added a section to the state test, and now this! We were just now taking our eighth grade trip because, the school delayed it for two years just for this project. Would two projects really be so bad?
We weren't really told much about the project just that it'll start during the trip, we will have to work closely with our partner, and that it'll last the whole school year. I really don't know what jerk thought that up, but they really should be taken out back to suffer. Possibly being tied to one of the uncomfortable desk chairs, with a broken loud speaker stuck on, and to just top it off a just for show air conditioner in August of New Jersey would be a good enough punishment for this person. Leave it to Adams High to do a project all year. I always had such bad luck with group work, they really were hell on earth.
"Think positively, maybe you'll get someone you really don't know."
I raised my eyebrow again.
"That won't take much, our grade is what, four hundred people?" I inquired thinking I really didn't care to know most of them.
Bridget shrugged, "Sounds about right."
"Aren't you worried about who you're working with?" I asked, trying to figure out if she was only as calm as she was because she was still waking up.
"Not everyone is as crazy curious as you are," she continued rubbing her eyes a little. "Did I mess up the eyes?"
I shook my head.
"I can't help it, I don't want to screw up a grade and that is a long time to work with someone."
"True, I'll worry about it when we cross that road."
I fused my eyebrows and my green eyes met her dark brown ones.
"Why can't you and I ever be calm at the same time?"
She smirked. "We balance each other out what can I say love."
I gave a light laugh. "Isn't that the truth."
An hour later our bus finally pulled up behind the other buses from our school at our hotel. The girls and boys were separated on the buses, which wasn't a detail that was presented onto us until people started to tell what their bus numbers were. Nick March, he and I have had classes together since kindergarten were talking about our bus numbers when the whole homeroom noticed the segregation of the sexes.
Nick March and I have an odd relationship and always have for as long as I can remember. We were school friends, talked when we had classes together, might say "Hi" in the halls, but never tried to hangout with each other outside of school. We were not on that level. Nick and I talk about whatever, school, movies, and random jokes or comments during class when we are near each other. This was a guy who saved me a swing once in kindergarten the day we met. He hung out with a slightly different crowd when we got to high school.
I've heard him in homeroom talking about the parties he's gone to, and having to sneak back into his house at God forsaken hours. That would never happen to me in my wildest dreams. I never really saw that side of him and I was more than okay with that. However I was pretty sure he wanted to wring my neck for trying to figure out what the project was. He was trying to push away the thought of doing more homework I knew it. We've worked enough together in class for me to know when he was trying to avoid school work.
Our two chaperons on our bus, Miss Barnes and Ms. Dixon finally seemed to remember the purpose to this trip as their discussion stopped. Miss Barnes was my English teacher who still had a very sweet childish face even though she was probably in her thirties. She had dark red hair that curled at her shoulders and freckles across her nose. She was fishing in her purse for something as Ms. Dixon my math teacher had her everlastingly formed glower on her face, a raised dark eyebrow towards Miss Barnes. Ms. Dixon had dark curly hair in a low pony tale that she wore every single day. Ms. Dixon unlike Miss Barnes did not have an endless supply of patience.
"Tell me you did not lose the room keys," Ms. Dixon spoke, her words direct, and sharp.
"I did not misplace the keys Ally. I just have a lot of stuff in my bag," Miss Barnes giggled. "Companies make bags so big these days. It's hard not to put a whole lot of stuff in them!"
Ms. Dixon didn't even crack a smile as Miss Barnes head bobbed left to right, probably humming to herself as she searched for the keys; she did that in class…
"Aha!" She wore a grand grin on her face as she held up the bundle of keys, Ms. Dixon stone face lacked the enthusiasm that Miss Barnes' had.
"Lovely, you can do your job." Ms. Dixon remarked.
Miss Barnes rolled her eyes, she did work with high school students after all. Understanding sarcasm was teaching 101. Comments never seemed to penetrate her optimism. "Was your sense of humor accidentally tossed out of the bus window? Live a little!" Miss Barnes stood up in the middle of the aisle. "Ladies! I'm about to pass out your keys so we can get the ball rolling. Make sure you listen to the directions very carefully and answer the room phones because you guys were not allowed to bring any electronics on the trip. Now, Laurie Doyle where are you?"
I turned my head taking a deep breath before letting it go slowly, in an attempt to calm my nerves from popping around like popcorn kernels in a microwave. I watched as the boys walked, jumped, and ran off their buses into the chaotic mess that was the mob of boys trying to get a hold of their belongings under the buses. I was truly not looking forward to pushing through people to grab my duffle bag. The crowd of males slowly dwindled as they were herded into the building.
Wednesday, 1 July 2015
Bloggers needed!
Hello!
Project US is my upcoming Young Adult novel! I wrote it back in high school. I am going to be needing some bloggers to do cover revealings, and other postings. If you would like to participate I would greatly appreciate it! There will be a cover revealing within a week. I love doing revealings for authors I think they are a lot of fun. Please help me do the same. I will be looking for people to do early reviews of the book as well. If you have time or are interested in doing cover revealings/reviews for a Romantic Suspense - Young Adult. Please comment on here or email me at ottilieweber (at) gmail (dot) com.
Happy Readings,
Ottilie
Project US is my upcoming Young Adult novel! I wrote it back in high school. I am going to be needing some bloggers to do cover revealings, and other postings. If you would like to participate I would greatly appreciate it! There will be a cover revealing within a week. I love doing revealings for authors I think they are a lot of fun. Please help me do the same. I will be looking for people to do early reviews of the book as well. If you have time or are interested in doing cover revealings/reviews for a Romantic Suspense - Young Adult. Please comment on here or email me at ottilieweber (at) gmail (dot) com.
Happy Readings,
Ottilie
Thursday, 25 June 2015
40 years on, India is different now
Here is Emergency, 30 years ago
A few other points that come to my mind. The India then and now are vastly different - politically, economically and sociologically.
There was just one Congress, under Indira Gandhi, that dominated the political spectrum. Today, we have a plethora of parties, many of them regional ones. At one end, she was seen as a strong-willed leader who could get things done, and who kept India's national interest uppermost. At the other end, for Indira haters, she was an arrogant dictator.
At that time, there was hardly any private sector, that catered to our essential daily subsistence needs. We just had government-owned behemoths, the efficiency levels of which left a lot to be desired; and concepts like accountability weren't much heard of.
Forget internet, mobile phone or social media; there was not even television then. There was just one All India Radio, and a couple of newspapers and magazines for us to know what was happening in our country. There was little knowledge of what "other cultures and traditions" actually meant; the only source was a few foreign radio stations like BBC, Radio Australia, Voice of America etc, that were available on Short Wave bands.
The world itself has moved on, quite a distance, in the past 40 years. Most significantly, there is no USSR now. There is only one USA. With the fall of the Soviet empire, the Berlin Wall too came down. And along with it all the barriers that separated different ideologies and cultures too. (However, we are yet to figure out some way on how to co-exist in a world full of diversity.)
There is still this talk about whether Emergency, as it happened 40 years ago, will ever happen again. It is extremely difficult, for many reasons. In retrospect, we can see that there was a context then.
There was already an External Emergency in existence, due to the 1971 war with Pakistan. There was a bogey about foreign forces trying to break up India. So, Mrs Gandhi saw everything through that prism. No one had the guts to stand up against her, or put across a different view point. When opposition political parties and activists finally stood up, she could only see it as a deterioration in the state of the nation.
Another reason is the Constitution has been amended to make proclamation of Internal Emergency a difficult process that needs the approval of the Cabinet and both Houses of Parliament.
All said and done, there was lot of suffering during those days, which are now referred to as the Darkest Days of Democracy. Still there is little tolerance for contrarian views; some people have had to pay with their lives for standing up to strong power centres, so much so that there is often fear among many people to speak out. But what we then saw was an institutionalized, government-sanctioned suppression of any contrarian views.
It was a turning point in India's history, no doubt; a period many would like to forget rather than remember.
A few other points that come to my mind. The India then and now are vastly different - politically, economically and sociologically.
There was just one Congress, under Indira Gandhi, that dominated the political spectrum. Today, we have a plethora of parties, many of them regional ones. At one end, she was seen as a strong-willed leader who could get things done, and who kept India's national interest uppermost. At the other end, for Indira haters, she was an arrogant dictator.
At that time, there was hardly any private sector, that catered to our essential daily subsistence needs. We just had government-owned behemoths, the efficiency levels of which left a lot to be desired; and concepts like accountability weren't much heard of.
Forget internet, mobile phone or social media; there was not even television then. There was just one All India Radio, and a couple of newspapers and magazines for us to know what was happening in our country. There was little knowledge of what "other cultures and traditions" actually meant; the only source was a few foreign radio stations like BBC, Radio Australia, Voice of America etc, that were available on Short Wave bands.
The world itself has moved on, quite a distance, in the past 40 years. Most significantly, there is no USSR now. There is only one USA. With the fall of the Soviet empire, the Berlin Wall too came down. And along with it all the barriers that separated different ideologies and cultures too. (However, we are yet to figure out some way on how to co-exist in a world full of diversity.)
There is still this talk about whether Emergency, as it happened 40 years ago, will ever happen again. It is extremely difficult, for many reasons. In retrospect, we can see that there was a context then.
There was already an External Emergency in existence, due to the 1971 war with Pakistan. There was a bogey about foreign forces trying to break up India. So, Mrs Gandhi saw everything through that prism. No one had the guts to stand up against her, or put across a different view point. When opposition political parties and activists finally stood up, she could only see it as a deterioration in the state of the nation.
Another reason is the Constitution has been amended to make proclamation of Internal Emergency a difficult process that needs the approval of the Cabinet and both Houses of Parliament.
All said and done, there was lot of suffering during those days, which are now referred to as the Darkest Days of Democracy. Still there is little tolerance for contrarian views; some people have had to pay with their lives for standing up to strong power centres, so much so that there is often fear among many people to speak out. But what we then saw was an institutionalized, government-sanctioned suppression of any contrarian views.
It was a turning point in India's history, no doubt; a period many would like to forget rather than remember.
Monday, 15 June 2015
Missing, last seen on WhatsApp
Recently, my friend from Kolkata narrated an anecdote that happened in his neighbourhood.
A 20-year old college student went missing. He had returned after studies, but went out soon after, saying he was going to meet a friend. But neither did he mention anyone's name nor people at home ask. When he wasn't back even after 10 pm, folks at home began to get worried.
They called him on his mobile. But the calls repeatedly gave an 'out of coverage area' reply. Friends too tried, but to no avail. Messages too evoke no response.
A friend thought of checking WhatsApp. The Last Seen time stamp was only 10 minutes behind the actual time. That meant he was active on the messaging app. But the friends couldn't figure out why he hadn't bothered to inform where he was, but "was happily" WhatsApping.
A quick explanation was he might have tried to call or message but the mobile connectivity might have been bad. He might have been online as his data lines were more stable or he was on someone's Wi-Fi.
No sooner his friend noticed the missing boy's time stamp change to 'online' than he shot off a message.
"Where the hell are you? All are worried."
To the delight of everyone, he replied.
"I am at (a friend's) house. Don't worry. It's raining heavily here. Can't step out. Will come once rain reduces."
"Then why the **** you didn't tell anyone at home ...."
"Chill. Nothing to worry. Call wasn't going through. Will call now. Or you also tell them."
Apparently it was true that in the other part of the city, it was raining, and he was genuinely stuck.
He was back home around midnight to a lecture on how he should remember to keep someone posted on his whereabouts if he wasn't where he normally should be.
But the other takeaways from this incident were: one, how internet-based messaging platforms can help when the default phone call and SMS don't seem to work; and two, perhaps, more significantly, the clue the time stamp on Last Seen can provide about your status.
The above anecdote was narrated by my friend during a recent dinner get together we had with a few of our common friends, when he visited Bengaluru. His story triggered a debate on whether the Last Seen feature is an invasion of privacy or it is helpful.
Here is a gist of the arguments: some on predictable lines, some new lines of thought.
Against Hiding
A 20-year old college student went missing. He had returned after studies, but went out soon after, saying he was going to meet a friend. But neither did he mention anyone's name nor people at home ask. When he wasn't back even after 10 pm, folks at home began to get worried.
They called him on his mobile. But the calls repeatedly gave an 'out of coverage area' reply. Friends too tried, but to no avail. Messages too evoke no response.
A friend thought of checking WhatsApp. The Last Seen time stamp was only 10 minutes behind the actual time. That meant he was active on the messaging app. But the friends couldn't figure out why he hadn't bothered to inform where he was, but "was happily" WhatsApping.
A quick explanation was he might have tried to call or message but the mobile connectivity might have been bad. He might have been online as his data lines were more stable or he was on someone's Wi-Fi.
No sooner his friend noticed the missing boy's time stamp change to 'online' than he shot off a message.
"Where the hell are you? All are worried."
To the delight of everyone, he replied.
"I am at (a friend's) house. Don't worry. It's raining heavily here. Can't step out. Will come once rain reduces."
"Then why the **** you didn't tell anyone at home ...."
"Chill. Nothing to worry. Call wasn't going through. Will call now. Or you also tell them."
Apparently it was true that in the other part of the city, it was raining, and he was genuinely stuck.
He was back home around midnight to a lecture on how he should remember to keep someone posted on his whereabouts if he wasn't where he normally should be.
But the other takeaways from this incident were: one, how internet-based messaging platforms can help when the default phone call and SMS don't seem to work; and two, perhaps, more significantly, the clue the time stamp on Last Seen can provide about your status.
The above anecdote was narrated by my friend during a recent dinner get together we had with a few of our common friends, when he visited Bengaluru. His story triggered a debate on whether the Last Seen feature is an invasion of privacy or it is helpful.
Here is a gist of the arguments: some on predictable lines, some new lines of thought.
Against Hiding
- Since when is WhatsApping a crime?
- Why should I care if someone knows when I checked WhatsApp last? How does it matter to anyone? I might check at 1 in the afternoon or 4 in the night.
- WhatsApp is not like Email. It is an instant messaging platform used for quick communication. So Online and Last Seen are important indicators, that show how easily I can be accessed.
- Hiding doesn't serve any purpose anyway, because the double tick will indicate that I have got the message. And the blue tick (if I haven't disabled that) means I have read it too. So, what is the big deal? What am I trying to hide anyway?
- Since it's an instant messaging platform, I am online most of the time. Then, why publicize additionally the precise timings too?
- It's a system prone to technical issues, and not reliable. One, if the app is running in the background, especially on Android phones, I might be shown as online, when I am not actually. Two, if I only opened the app, and not read or typed a message, sometimes the Last Seen gets updated. Three, when using the web version, sometimes you are shown online, even when you have minimised the browser. The Last Seen feature is flawed and misleading.
- Some people expect a reply from me immediately (on seeing that I have been online), when actually I haven't had time to type out a reply.
- Suppose I was chatting late at night with my friend in the US, my mom wants to know why I wasn't sleeping, and with whom I was chatting late in the night! Mom I can handle, but why should everyone else too know that I was up late into the night. It's total invasion of privacy. A provision to make oneself invisible is what is actually needed.
All of these finally got washed down with a few drinks and a generous helping of some Continental and Chinese delicacies.
Wednesday, 10 June 2015
Road Block
Hello,
I would've named this post writer's block, but it isn't just a mental block on writing. Sometimes it's an emotional block or for me I know work can clog my brain from everything else. For me I also have to take breaks from a story and start fresh with a story. I'm probably rambling because it is a little personal for one of the reasons why I am hesitant to work with one story and I'm debating on if I should even talk about it even as I am writing this.
I've been writing erratically with a couple of stories as I continued my first year writing. I'm in a new state, living by myself, and trying to figure out the ropes my first year. Some of those stories include, the third installment in my werewolf story, A Pirates Life for Me, Walking a Thin Line, Going Rogue, Project US, and Call for Help. Sequels I swear are my Achilles Heel. Walking a Thin Line I figured out the ending, I have it outlined and have been working on it in bits the past two weeks. I kept having to take breaks because there was a couple different ways I wanted to take that story and I was overthinking parts.
However, that's not the story that I wanted to talk about. Beneath the Scars and End of the Line are my top two stories. They go back and forth depending on when I look. Beneath the Scars I already have a rough outline for it to be a trilogy. Riley and Eponine will be in all of the books because well, who doesn't love Riley? However, the other books will follow some of the other men in Riley's troop when he had his accident. Should I be giving away spoilers like this? I hope not!
In Call for Help one of the main characters deals with cancer. I have been working on this story too in stages. However, I'm actually a little nervous to work on the story. That sounds probably immature and dumb as I am sure most of this post does. A little over a week ago I found out one of my best friends has cancer. He and I met in college and worked together at the same recreation center/gym. We don't always get to talk as much as we do, but when we see each other there's no stopping the conversations. I guess that's what you get for putting two teachers together in the same room in their free time. He's like my big brother. I was in shock when he told me.
Even though it's been over a week it still isn't sinking in. I can't imagine what him and his wife must be going through. He and I have talked on the phone and via text message a couple of times since then, but it isn't sinking in. I can admit that he has cancer, but the idea of what he is going through seems surreal. It seems like just the other day we were at work talking about Family Guy. I don't know if working on this story will be too close to home, making me face the fact that my friend indeed has cancer. The doctors caught it early for him and I'm staying positive. I'm hoping that me loving this story helps me stop being a baby and move past it to write. So sorry that this story will not be done as soon as I had planned...
~Ottilie
I would've named this post writer's block, but it isn't just a mental block on writing. Sometimes it's an emotional block or for me I know work can clog my brain from everything else. For me I also have to take breaks from a story and start fresh with a story. I'm probably rambling because it is a little personal for one of the reasons why I am hesitant to work with one story and I'm debating on if I should even talk about it even as I am writing this.
I've been writing erratically with a couple of stories as I continued my first year writing. I'm in a new state, living by myself, and trying to figure out the ropes my first year. Some of those stories include, the third installment in my werewolf story, A Pirates Life for Me, Walking a Thin Line, Going Rogue, Project US, and Call for Help. Sequels I swear are my Achilles Heel. Walking a Thin Line I figured out the ending, I have it outlined and have been working on it in bits the past two weeks. I kept having to take breaks because there was a couple different ways I wanted to take that story and I was overthinking parts.
However, that's not the story that I wanted to talk about. Beneath the Scars and End of the Line are my top two stories. They go back and forth depending on when I look. Beneath the Scars I already have a rough outline for it to be a trilogy. Riley and Eponine will be in all of the books because well, who doesn't love Riley? However, the other books will follow some of the other men in Riley's troop when he had his accident. Should I be giving away spoilers like this? I hope not!
In Call for Help one of the main characters deals with cancer. I have been working on this story too in stages. However, I'm actually a little nervous to work on the story. That sounds probably immature and dumb as I am sure most of this post does. A little over a week ago I found out one of my best friends has cancer. He and I met in college and worked together at the same recreation center/gym. We don't always get to talk as much as we do, but when we see each other there's no stopping the conversations. I guess that's what you get for putting two teachers together in the same room in their free time. He's like my big brother. I was in shock when he told me.
Even though it's been over a week it still isn't sinking in. I can't imagine what him and his wife must be going through. He and I have talked on the phone and via text message a couple of times since then, but it isn't sinking in. I can admit that he has cancer, but the idea of what he is going through seems surreal. It seems like just the other day we were at work talking about Family Guy. I don't know if working on this story will be too close to home, making me face the fact that my friend indeed has cancer. The doctors caught it early for him and I'm staying positive. I'm hoping that me loving this story helps me stop being a baby and move past it to write. So sorry that this story will not be done as soon as I had planned...
~Ottilie
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)