Month: June 2021

An Afternoon At The Redhill

Neera

“Where are you going?” My husband asks before I leave the house on a lazy afternoon during the Christmas shutdown.

“I don’t know. Somewhere.” I step out of the door, still unsure where I was heading, then, as an afterthought, added, “Probably will go and sit under a tree.”

I walk off with car keys and a water bottle. This year we had decided to stay at home during Christmas break and do nothing. Five days of doing nothing and I have had my fill of doing nothing. I needed to get out of the house.

But where? I sit in the car and wonder. Other than shopping centers and tourist attractions, there are very few places to hang out. I want to go somewhere quiet. Somewhere where I can be alone. I let the car take me where it wants and before I knew it, I was on the Redhill.

The car park at the top of the hill has only a few cars. That is encouraging. I get out and take a walk around the building at the top. It is a restaurant but closed for Christmas break. I have been to the Redhill before, mainly with visitors, to show them a bird’s eye view of Canberra. But never took a walk around the hill.

At the restaurant’s back, a bit away from the road, there is a BBQ table. It is empty. I sit there and take a deep breath. The view before me is sublime and serene.

The suburb of Redhill is spread in front of me, covered with mature trees in varying shades of green, interrupted here and there with rooftops. The Redhill primary school and Canberra Grammar are peering out through the dense eucalyptus trees.

At a distance, plains of Canberra airport, followed by vacant land divided at random with rows of pine trees. Low hills surround the valley marking the boundary of Canberra. Far away on the right, I can see houses of Queanbeyan, a town of New South Wales, considered almost a suburb of Canberra.

The afternoon breeze has its own sound and presence. It is hot and cold at the same time, bringing the aroma of local vegetation. It also brings the constant buzzing of the cars from the Hindmarsh Drive. It makes the pages of my notebook flutter and makes my pen and glasses fly away to the ground.

I have found the isolated spot, I tell myself. Who would come here in such a heat and during Christmas break? Half of Canberra has gone to the coast. The rest is in shopping centers.

But I am wrong.

A girl, wearing a striped t-shirt and pair of shorts with earphones in her ears and a water bottle in hand, climbs from the Mugga Lane side of the hill. Moments later, a family of four comes from the other side. The dad is carrying the younger boy on his shoulders while the daughter is walking with the mum.

Another man approaches from left, panting and sweating, in a white t-shirt and a blue cap. He crosses the family, exchanges greetings, and keeps going down the same way as the family.

Near the bench where I am sitting, bull ants patrol around the mount they have created by digging the soil. A bird calls somewhere from a tree. A fly is following me, buzzing annoyingly.

I get up to take a walk along the perimeter around the top. The rock sticking out from the ground has many black and white layers showing a formation geologists talk about. A bush of massive Aloe Vera, pine trees, several varieties of eucalyptus, and many more natural bushes.

Footsteps behind me are crushing the gravel. Somewhere down the hill, someone is playing cricket. I can hear the bat striking the ball. There is a big rattling sound at a distance, like metal sheets unloading from a truck. I wonder how clearly the sound traveled with the wind. I can hear things from miles away.

A signboard tells me how Redhill got its name. Red Bottle Brush was planted here due to Walter Burley Griffin’s interest in color in the landscape. In 1916, the designer of Canberra, Burley Griffin, directed that the hills around Canberra should be replanted according to the mass color scheme — yellow flowers and foliage for Mt Ainslie, pink for Black Mountain, white for Mount Mugga Mugga, and you guessed it red for Redhill.

Redhill was the first hill subjected to the experiment. It was planted with red Bottle Brush plants. It was hard to maintain such a vast area and weed out the other flowers. The experiment failed miserably.

In 1917 Mr. Griffin thankfully changed his mind and urged that the Canberra hills be restored to their natural state.

Different birds are calling from around the trees. I hear a peculiar sound from the bush in front of me, like a newborn baby. I can’t find the bird, though. I hear a Kookaburra and I spot it. It flies in from the left and lands on the top branch of the gum tree. It lets out few more cries, announcing its presence. I see a flash of red between the gum leaves; moments later, it changes its position and becomes clearer. It’s a Red Wattlebird.

A butterfly swirl pass. I follow her with my gaze and notice there is another near the metal fence.

I hear two sets of footsteps behind me. A young boy of late teens and a slightly older girl walk past me. They are deep in discussion.

“Love is crazy, dude!” Boy in a black t-shirt and blue jeans declares.

“Love is good. Love is nice.” Says the girl with a canvass bag on her shoulder and a water bottle in hand.

“Love is crazy and good!” The boy says thoughtfully and the girl laughs.

“Maybe.” She responds.

Suddenly it all makes sense — nature, the wind, the trees, the birds, the people. I touch my lips with my tongue. They are dry with heat and wind. I drink some water and crave tea. I am ready to go home now.

Dated: 29 December 2015.

I live in Canberra, which is the capital of Australia. It is known as the bush capital. It is a beautiful place. I will write more about it in the future.

Photo by Hugo Kneebone on Unsplash

Forget About Year, Forget About Months- Focus On Days

Neera

This year I learned the biggest lesson ever. The importance of each ‘day’ in my life.

All through my adult years, I wanted to start several projects, learn new things, and read a plethora of book but I couldn’t because I didn’t have time. 

I thought, one day, in future, I will have a lot of time. Then I will be able to do all these things. I thought that future was when I retire. 

Not working will add ten extra hours to my day. 

I retired two years ago and I still didn’t have any time to do the things I wanted to do.

The reason was not the lack of will or not knowing the productivity hacks. The reason was, I didn’t understand the importance of a ‘day.’

A day is the single unit of time that is most significant. It has fixed 24 hours which are same for everyone. 

Our weeks could be different, our months could be way different and a year is way too long.

But a day has a rhythm about it. Sun goes up, sun goes down.

Anyone can fight the battles of just one day. It is only when you and I add the battles of those two awful eternities, yesterday and tomorrow, that we break down. It is not the experience of today that drives us mad. It is the remorse or bitterness for something that happened yesterday or the dread of what tomorrow may bring. Let us therefore do our best to live but one day at a time. 

— Richard Walker in Twenty-Four Hours A Day

That is why Alcoholic Anonymous has a slogan ‘One Day At a Time.’

How to establish a daily practice of anything?

Whatever you want to do, do it every day. Whether it’s writing, meditation, yoga, or a favorite creative activity, you’ll get so much more from doing it every day. 

When you do an activity every day, it become a second nature. Your skill level improve and same task that used to take you hours is done in fraction of time. And you no longer dread it any more.

If you want to write, write every day.

If you want to sketch, sketch every day.

If you want to paint, paint every day.

If you want to sing, sing every day.

Do it every day, until it becomes easy.

Luckily the steps to set the daily practice of anything are the same.

Set the intention.

 Everything starts with intention. 

If at the start of the year someone had said to me that the only way you will be able to make a mark on Medium is by writing an article a day I would have said, “Thank you very much, I am out of here.” 

Yet this is exactly what I did. Mid-April this year, I set myself a challenge to write 100 Articles in 100 Days. This meant writing one article a day.

It started with an intention but the most important thing was ‘why?’

Why I set myself the challenge? I had three very strong reasons for that.

  1. I wanted to get better at writing. 
  2. I wanted to bring the article writing time down from 5–6 hours to 1–2 hours. 
  3. And I wanted to build a rigorous system to publish online articles.

You can make your intention even stronger, by sharing it. I announced mine by writing an article. However, be careful about talking about it too widely, it can dissipate the energy.

Set time and process to do the task.

Setting intention will get you going, setting a time and process to do the practice will make sure that you keep on doing it.

Once I declared my intention I set a time when I will be writing those articles. I write a handwritten draft in the morning, before breakfast. Between breakfast and lunch I type the article. Then I leave it for a few hours. Then either before dinner or after dinner, I edit and publish it. 

I rarely leave the articles for next day (not a good practice) because I know I will run out of steam on the topic and don’t finish it. I like to wake up each morning excited about what I am going to write today.

I have a similar process for watercolour sketches. I do them in the afternoon. I have all the materials at one place. That stops the procrastination. I make a small painting or even an easy one if I have less time. Some days my painting turns up horrible, even then I post it. It is the act that counts not the quality. The quality will come with time.

And should you start to despair at your progress, always keep in mind the words of Harvey Pekar: “Every day is a new deal. Keep working and maybe something will turn up.”

Whatever you are working on make it your most important task of the day and do it no matter what.

Track your progress

The comedian Jerry Seinfeld suggests a calendar method to help keep track of your daily practice. He recommends getting a wall calendar that shows the whole year. Each day, when you’re finished with your work, mark an X in that day’s box.

Every day, instead of just getting work done, your goal is to just fill a box. 

“After a few days you’ll have a chain. Just keep at it and the chain will grow longer every day. You’ll like seeing that chain, especially when you get a few weeks under your belt. Your only job next is to not break the chain.”

I made that calendar in Excel spreadsheet. I use it for my article writing, water colour painting and meditation practice. You are welcome to print it from below.

Image by the author

Submit to a daily practice. Your loyalty to that is a ring at the door. Keep knocking and the joy inside will eventually open a window and look out to see who’s there. — Rumi

To sum up

A day is your most important commodity. Make sure you use it wisely. 

If you want to learn something, there is nothing like it to practice it daily. 

If you are working on a project, figure out what little daily chunk of work is, and every day, no matter what, make sure it gets done.

Do the work every day. Fill the boxes on your calendar and don’t break the chain.

Photo by Joshua Earle on Unsplash

What Is The End Game For Literary Writers

Neera

Two days ago, I wrote an article where I said, knowing your end game will help you decide what kind of writer you want to become and what path you need to take to get there.

M.A. Mercier, a dear young friend of mine and upcoming prolific writer, wrote, “I don’t understand your reasoning behind ‘genre fiction.’ I consider myself a Passion writer, but my ‘end-game’ is to write literary fiction. My ideal future where I do both content writing and fiction writing.”

Dear Mercier, this article is for you.

You have pulled the words out of my mouth and wrote them in the comments section. 

It was precisely the question I was trying to understand when I wrote the article. Like you, I am a literary writer. So what is my end game, then?

Being a literary writer is not the end game. The end game is how to stay as a literary writer and make a living.

It is hard to make a living as a literary writer. For one, you can’t keep coming with a book every six months or a year. A good literary book takes much longer to write. 

Second literary readers are not lining up like the fans of Harry Potter or Jason Bourne waiting for the next book. They buy the book when there are enough reviews that say that it is a great book, even if they are written by a great author. Arundhati Roy, Jhumpa Lahiri, and Khalid Hussini’s subsequent books didn’t sell as well as their first ones.

I didn’t understand it either when I was told, time and time again, that if you want to make a living as a fiction writer, you need to pick a genre. 

Genre writing is what people buy in hoards. They can’t seem to have enough of Nora Roberts, Dan Brown, Stephen King, Arthur Hailey, Michael Crichton, Ken Follett, and Robert Ludlum.

Genre writers can build a following, self-publish, and make six to seven-figure income by selling directly to their readers. The model is well-established and many authors are following it and succeeding at it. 

Literary writers who make a living solely on their books are far and few. The New York Times published a small article based on a recent study by the Authors Guild that said:

“In the 20th century, a good literary writer could earn a middle-class living just writing (citing William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway and John Cheever). Now, most writers need to supplement their income with speaking engagements or teaching. — Mary Rasenberger, executive director of the Authors Guild.

The end game for literary writers used to be to win a major literary prize. This is how Ros Barber described in The Guardian: 

Traditional publishing is the only way to go for someone who writes literary fiction. With genre fiction, self-publishing can turn you into a successful author (if you can build a platform, if you can enjoy marking and are good at it, if you are lucky). But an author who writes literary fiction is dependent on critical acclaim and literary prizes to build their reputation and following. If genre fiction is chart music, literary fiction is opera: the audience is small, and there are limited ways to reach it. Self-published books are not eligible for major prizes like Baileys and the Costa and the Man Booker, and getting shortlisted for major prizes is the only way a literary novel will become a bestseller. The chance of a self-published novelist getting their book reviewed in the mainstream press is the same as the chance of my dog not eating a sausage. The chance of an indie author being booked for a major literature festival? Donald Trump apologising to Mexico. — Ros Barber

She received £5,000 for her most recent novel for two year’s work. Yet, she thinks self-publishing is a terrible idea for serious novelists. 

Because she says, “Self-publishing authors spend only 10% of their time writing and 90% of their time marketing… Good writers become good because they undertake apprenticeships… My first novel was my fourth novel. It was accomplished on the back of three complete novels (plus two half novels)… The gatekeepers are saving you from your own ego… Good writers need even better editors. They need brilliant cover designers. They need imaginative marketers and well-connected publicists.”

So if making a living from your literary fiction is not your goal, then you can go on the path to become a good writer and do a long apprenticeship. I will be cheering for you. But that will take you to the hobby writer category (writers who like to write for personal satisfaction) until you start making a living from it.

Let me come to the question of ‘Passion writers.’

Maybe my definition of ‘Passion writers’ was incomplete. Allow me to elaborate a bit.

Passion writers write what they are passionate about, whether it is content, fiction, or non-fiction and make a living from it.

But even this doesn’t sound right. Maybe I shouldn’t call them ‘Passion writers.’ In the real world, they are called the ‘Bestselling writers.’ They are bestselling because they write to market demands. 

But I want to stay with the term ‘Passion Writers.’ Because I believe passion moves mountains. 

It was the writers’ passion who wanted to break away from the clutches of traditional publishing and create a model for self-publishing within a decade that is repeatable. They wrote in the genre they were passionate about. 

Literature is a genre too. It, too, has dedicated fans. They may not be lining at the bookstores to buy the next book by their favorite author, but they do buy many books.

I think literary writers can do the same. I think we can build enough followers and make a decent living even with fewer books. We might need to become savvier in terms of selling the rights of our work. I am certain that young bright writers like yourself will find a way.

So, by all means, keep your end game to become a literary writer. But learn the market forces. You don’t have to bend to them. You need to bend them to yourself. Learn from genre writers. They are a decade ahead of you and have a lot to teach. Then, apply it to literary fiction and change the game for writers like me. 

I am counting on you.

Make literary writing mainstream writing because there is nothing better to read than a well-written book by a thoughtful writer.

I hope I answered your question. 

As far as my end game is concerned I am a hobby writer. I will be writing whatever I am passionate about at any given time and not worry about making money from it (also because I don’t have to). I am turning sixty this year and don’t have too much time left for a long apprenticeship or traditional publishing. I want to leave my legacy in the form of stories in whatever broken English I can tell them. 

I believe in the power of the stories rather than the strength of the language. Not because I don’t appreciate good writing but because I am in awe of it. 

All the best.

Some relevant reading:

How Much do Fiction Writers Earn?
Is Self-Publishing Literary Fiction Possible?
The horrible hidden truth about self-publishing that nobody wants you to know
These self-published authors are actually making a living. Here’s how.
For me, traditional publishing means poverty. But self-publish? No way

Photo by Andrey Metelev on Unsplash

The Half-year Reset

Neera

Get back on track in the second half of 2021.

We are already in June.

Half of 2021 is almost gone.

Remember the things you wrote down in January, the things you wanted to achieve. Your goals. How are they going.

Well, it is time to have a look at them. How are you going with them? 

Not good?

Well you are not alone. I am in the same boat. But guess what? There is still time. Each year, around this time, I review my goals and press the RESET button.

This year, I am doing it slightly differently. I am following my favourite artist’s Struthless’s method. 

Follow along if you want to revisit your goals and still achieve them. 

There is still time.

Empty your head

Write down all your thoughts on a page, preferably in a notebook if you own a diary or a journal to write in occasionally, even better. 

Vomit out all your thoughts. Mine started like this.

“My life sucks. I am no good. I will never be able to achieve anything worthwhile…

Write three pages at least. Or until you have nothing more to say. Now that your head is empty, you are in the right “headspace” to process new information. 

That’s right.

Our head is a processor like a computer, not a storage vault. A diary or a journal is a good place to store the crap occupying the prime real estate in our head. 

Besides, once we put down our thoughts on paper, they miraculously disappear from our heads. Somehow thoughts can’t exist in two places at the same time. They can be either in our heads or on paper.

Now that you have a head like a clean slate, let’s go to the next step.

Create two lists

Move to a clean page and draw a line in the middle.

Dig out that piece of paper (or the diary or the computer file) where you wrote your goals at the start of the year. If you can’t find it, don’t worry, just write them from memory.

Write them out on the left-hand side of the line.

Place a tick against the one which you have already achieved or in the process of achieving. No need to panic if you haven’t achieved any. This whole exercise is to make sure that you do accomplish what you set out to at the start of the year. 

Also, write down what you actually did in the first half of the year. You would have achieved things that you hadn’t written them down as goals. They are achievements too. 

Now stare at the ones you haven’t achieved for a good minute or two. Think hard. Do you still want to achieve them? 

Or were they written to make you feel better after drinking hard the night before? Has the world moved on since? Or better still, you have moved on? 

Cross them off if they are not relevant anymore. Let them go without any guilt or grief. 

Now on the right-hand side, of the line write down what you would really want to achieve this year. 

We are almost halfway through the year; you now have a much better idea of how much you will be able to achieve. More so now that you are not caught up in the heat of the moment of the New Year. And more in touch with your soul through the trials and tribulations of January to June. What do you really want to achieve in your life? What are your long-term goals, and what are your quick wins? Write them all down.

Once finished, I want you to prioritize them in order of importance. 

Which one is the most important one that you must do so that if you die in six months, a day before your death, you are really pleased that you have done it? Place #1 in front of it.

Image by the author

If you have been a little more organized and can achieve another one, place #2 in front of it. 

Then #3, #4, #5 and #6.

No more. Six goals are enough for the next six months. 

If something comes up and you are not able to achieve all of them, at least you have achieved the most important ones.

Now you have very little time and have only the most important goals to work on, so let get cracking.

Ask yourself a question.

Who would you have to be to achieve these goals? 

You won’t achieve goals just because you have written them down on a piece of paper. You are going to lose that piece of paper again. And your brain will not remember them. 

But one thing it will remember very well is what kind of person you want to become to achieve a particular goal. 

If your goal is to quit smoking, it is not enough to say I want to quit smoking by the end of 2021. But I am a person who doesn’t smoke makes it an identity-related goal. And identity-related goals work better than the outcome-related (quit smoking) or process-related goal(use chewing gum when I have the urge to smoke).

I would go to the length of identifying a person I admire and see myself acting and behaving like that person. My long-term goal is to write fiction and non-fiction. There aren’t many writers who are doing both effectively. But there is one, whom I admire a lot. I see myself becoming like her. I listen to her podcast. I read her books. I am following her footsteps. Each day I am getting closer to becoming like my idol. 

Before you jump in with both guns blazing, I am not becoming exactly like her but I am becoming the person who can be as prolific a writer as my idol. A person who can put in as many hours as she has into refining her craft, building her market, and continue providing value. 

Not everyone can become Gandhi, but having him as a model can make you a better person. You get my point.

So ask yourself, who would you have to be in order to achieve your goals?

If you know the person write down the name of that person or cut up an image of they person and put it on your goals sheet.

Let’s move on to the next step.

Build a system

We all should write James Clear’s following words in our best calligraphy handwriting, and put them over our desks.

You do not rise to the level of your goals. You fall to the level of your systems. — James Clear.

A system is either a routine (daily, weekly, or fortnightly) or breaking things down into smaller tasks.

Make the system to when you are at your weakest, not when you are at your strongest. 

You will not have all the energy all the time. There will be days when life will take over, and you will get no time to spend on your goals. 

If such days are more frequent, don’t make daily goals, make them weekly. Then make sure you achieve them each week. 

So rather than committing to write 1000 words every day, commit to write 3000 words a week. If you do it, you win. If you do more, you win again if you don’t do it,, up your game or tweak your system.

Accountability Partners

Now write down your goals and your system to achieve them and send them to your accountability partner by email. Ask them to check on you weekly. 

My accountability partners could be your readers on Medium, your friends, your social media fans. 

There your go. 

A halfyear reset and the system in place to make sure you achieve them.

I will be reporting my progress through my articles on Medium from point to point.

Let me know how you go with the exercise and who will be your accountability partners.

What Is Your End Game As A Writer (Knowing that will help plan your strategy)

Neera

When we start writing, we have no idea where we want to go with that. We write because we like to write. We enjoy the process and we continue with it.

Then comes a time when writing takes over our lives.

We want nothing more but to write. Our job becomes a liability. We want to quit as soon as possible so that we can devote more time to writing.

We convince ourselves that we can make an income from writing. If only we can devote more time to it, build a following, write that book, write an article a day, start a newsletter… we will be able to make a living from it.

But it is not that easy.

Making a living from writing takes more effort than making a living from selling insurance policies (or door-to-door selling or network marketing or selling used cars or becoming a real estate agent — take your pick).

Why?

Because we don’t know what our end game is.

We take writing as a generic profession, as a GP (General Practitioner), whereas it is a specialization.

There are different fields in writing and each one requires a different strategy to succeed. Not knowing that from the beginning not only makes it harder to succeed but takes much longer and causes so much heartache and frustration that many people give up after a few years, never to come back.

I divide writers into three categories:

  1. Hobby writers
  2. Freelance writers
  3. Passion writers

Hobby Writers

Hobby writers are the ones who like to write for personal satisfaction. They might write poems, short stories, or even articles in magazines (online or physical). They might write a book, maybe more than one. It could be fiction or non-fiction. But they have no intention to make a living from their writing.

They had a story to tell, and when they have told it, they are satisfied if they have been able to publish it and send it out in the world, even better.

With some stroke of luck, hobby writers might be able to make a lot of money with a single book or an article, even without much marketing. Such examples are rare, but they do happen.

Hobby writers treat writing as a way to communicate their feelings (poems), their stories(memoir or biography) and messages (articles or a book).

They are usually not stressed about their writing and very satisfied with their output.

If you are a hobby writer, enjoy your writing and don’t get caught up in the whirlwind of building a following or starting a newsletter. Keep in mind you are not in it for money.

Freelance Writers

Freelance writers make a living from their writing and sometimes are well paid and at the top of their trade.

Many professional writers are in the paid form of writing where it becomes a job — many journalists, content writers, ghostwriters and copywriters fall in this category.

They may or may not have proper qualifications in writing. To them, writing provides not only personal but also professional satisfaction. They might start in one category and move on to others.

They become professionals to work in the field they love but soon get caught in the vortex of a trading time with money. They get busy with delivering other people’s projects while their own projects get sidelined.

Their end game is to get some big bucks for ghost writing or big clients for content writing. Many journalists are going into paid newsletter arena where they fulfill a particular need of a group or a community with their writing skills.

Passion Writers

Passion writers write what they are passionate about, whether it is content, fiction, or non-fiction.

They are successful because they keep evaluating where they are going. They not only know what they want to write but also what the market wants.

Content writers

If they are content writers, they know they are writing to inspire or to educate. They know to make a living with content writing, they need a healthy mailing list and courses to sell. They start small, but by consistently providing value to their readers, they make a name for themselves. These writers often become entrepreneurs.

That is the end game for them. They will build some business from their writing. It could be a publishing company or self-development organization or marketing agency.

Fiction writers

If they are fiction writers, they write genre fiction. Genre fiction has populist appeal and it sells well. Traditionally genres are romance, mystery, thriller, horror, fantasy, historical, and children’s books. But new genres are being added all the time. Genre readers follow their writers and read everything they write.

The end game for fiction writers writes is to write series. Their readers are ready to buy their next book because they are invested in the story. The imaginary universe the fantasy and sci-fi writers create are money spinners. Think J K Rowling, Nora Roberts, Stephen King, Dean Coontz, Dean Wesley Smith. These are just a few well-known names. Many other not-so-well-known writers are making six to seven-figure incomes. These writers become brands in themselves.

Non-fiction writers

These are the writers of non-fiction books. They pick a niche and become experts in that. They write books in that niche and take speaking engagements. Sometimes just a single book becomes such a bestseller that they can build their whole business around it (think James Clear’s Atomic Habits). Other times they release series such as Rober Kiyosaki’s Rich Dad Poor Dad series.

The end game for non-fiction writers is the speaking engagements. They charge premium rates to speak at premium conferences and may have a whole business behind their book.

What is your end game?

Do you write for personal satisfaction, or do you want to make a living with your writing?

Do you want to build a business around your niche, or do you want to create a fictional universe?

Figure out what your end game is and then choose your path to get there.

The Teapot

Neera

From the day I moved to a small tea estate in Assam with my husband Amit, I heard nothing else but stories about Mrs Dubey. 

No one knew how long Mrs Dubey had been living in the ivy-covered bungalow at the farthest corner of the estate. Neither did they know how old she was? Or from where she was before moving to the remotest tea estate in Assam? But they knew about her teapot. They knew about its magic powers. 

“My brother couldn’t find a suitable match for his daughter,” my maid stopped mopping the floor to attract my full attention, “Mrs Dubey invited her to have tea with her. The poor girl, she was used to having tea in a metal glass, but Mrs Dubey served her in a china cup. From the magic teapot. Within two months she was married.”

Of course, I didn’t pay much attention to her. The remote communities always had magic stories. But a magic teapot was the first. I wanted to meet Mrs Dubey but didn’t think it was appropriate to go to her unannounced. I waited till someone introduced us. 

One morning Mrs Dubey’s maid knocked at my door, inviting me to have tea with Mrs Dubey in the afternoon. I strongly believed my maid had something to do with it. By now everyone in the small community was aware of my childless status. It was her way to help me. 

But accepted the invitation not because I believed in the magic of the teapot but because I had nothing better to do. At least Mrs Dubey was educated. She might be a good company to pass time.

I walked to her bungalow, through the winding tea plantation carrying a cake which I managed to bake during the noon. 

Mrs Dubey looked much younger than her years, which I estimated to be somewhere in nineties. Her skin was as white as the white lace dress she was wearing. 

“Welcome, my dear. May I have the pleasure of knowing your full name.” she asked in a flawless English accent.

“Nalini Mistri.” I took her hand which she had put out so delicately while resting the other one on the walking stick. In a white lace dress and a matching hat she looked more elegant than someone half her age would.

“Lovely name!” she said, “I hear you have been shy to make an acquaintance.”

“Of course not!” I started with a lie but checked myself in time. For some reason, it didn’t feel right to lie to her. “A little bit!” I nodded.

She laughed. “No need. In country side all we have is each other. Follow me please.” She led me to the verandah where a round table was set up for afternoon tea. It was quite an elaborate setup. A lacy white table cloth. English china. White hand-embroidered napkins, which Mrs Dubey told me she embroidered herself in her younger days.

We started chatting easily. Mrs Dubey came to India as a young girl from England. She fell in love with a local tea estate owner Mr Deshmukh Dubey. They got married and she never went back to England. Although they travelled to a lot of other places.

The maid brought the egg pudding and home baked cookies along with the cake I brought. The warm evening air got filled with the aroma of home baking. 

Then came the much anticipated tea pot. It was no doubt beautiful. Despite frequent use it was in good condition. Perhaps due to the utmost respect with which it was treated. It had a big belly, like a pregnant woman. The handle small and sturdy, the spout short and curved. If you look at it from a certain angle it looked like a matron with one hand on the hip and other up in the air.

“It belonged to my aunt,” Mrs Dubey noticed the awe with which I was looking at it. “It has special powers, she added.” 

I didn’t say anything, not wanting to disrespect the old lady. 

“Anyone who drinks tea from this pot,” said Mrs Dubey, “their luck change for good.” 

The maid had gone inside leaving us to eat and chat. I offered to pour the tea. As I got up, a bird flew in my direction and I lost balance trying to doge it. I caught the table to break my fall but hit the teapot which fell on the floor and shattered in pieces. 

My hand went to my mouth. I looked at the Mrs Dubey’s face which fell open with disbelieve. The maid came running from inside. The look on her face, when she saw the broken pieces floating in steaming tea, gave me a fair idea of the gravity of my crime.

“I am sorry! I am so so sorry!” I looked at Mrs Dubey and then the maid and back to Mrs Dubey. I had no idea why I was apologizing to the maid but I was. Maybe because I had taken the magic out of her life. 

“It is all right my dear. It was bound to happen one day.” Mrs Dubey was much more understanding and forgiving. But her maid was in obvious shock when she bent down and picked the pieces one by one, carefully placing them in a tray. 

I brought the pieces of the broken pot with be hoping to find a similar one on the internet. It was the least I could do. Although it wouldn’t have the same powers everyone believed it had, it was the least I could do. 

Days of searching on the internet brought results. I found a similar looking pot on eBay. It was expensive but I thought I owed it to Mrs Dubey. When it arrived, I took it to her. She was very pleased. It even brought the smile back on the maid’s face. That day we had tea together, with the usual ceremony.

Mrs Dubey told stories of people who came to her with their troubles, and she would listen to them. She had such a reassuring face that anyone would want to tell her all of one’s worries. 

I told her everything too. How Amit and I got married, how he was always busy with his work, how I had to leave my research career behind to follow him from tea-estate to tea-estate, how a baby would have filled that gap but perhaps God had other plans.

She listened to me with the same patience she would have listened to thousands.

I started meeting her regularly. We always found something to talk about. She was a worldly-wise woman who had travelled far and away in her time but had nothing to do nowadays. I was a well-educated woman who had no idea what to do with her life.

Months later, two things happened simultaneously. Amit got the news that he job in Munar tea estate that he wanted so much before coming here. I got confirmation that my pregnancy test was positive.

Mrs Dubey and I looked at the teapot as if wanting it to reveal its real identity.

Was it possible that it was the twin of the broken one? Maybe it was not the teapot but Mrs Dubey was the one with magical powers? An idea she dismissed instantly.

Whatever might be the case, I didn’t have enough time to get to the bottom of it. I had to pack for our next move. It also meant my friendship with Mrs Dubey came to an abrupt end.

Months later, after the birth of my daughter, on a hazy morning at Munar, I received a big parcel in the mail. As I opened it I found a neatly written letter on top of a carefully packed box. It was from Mrs Dubey.

Dear Nalini,

By the time it will reach you, I would have gone to a better place. I had a long and fulfilling life, so no need to shed tears for me. I am forever grateful to you and never properly thanked you for the time we spent together in the last few months of my life. I was starving for some company when you came. I always wanted to tell you but didn’t have the heart. There was no magic in the teapot you broke. It was a story I made up to give people some hope.

As time passed, more and more stories got connected to it, and the teapot became a thing of magic. Then it broke. My heart broke with it too. I thought no one will come to me to share their stories now that the magic is gone. But then you brought the new teapot, exactly like the one before. And immediately afterward fell pregnant.

Your story got connected with the new teapot.

Since you left, Ira’s daughter got cured, Chandra’s nephew passed exams and Bodhram’s cow survived malaria.

These things were probably going to happen anyway, but they got connected to the teapot.

You see, magic is in beliefs, not in objects.

There are so many desperate people in this world who need some magic in their lives. Magic gives them hope.

I am passing the teapot on to you because I feel you will use it to incite some hope in people’s lives.

Lovingly,

Eleanor Dubey

I opened the box to find the teapot I bought from eBay. For some reason, it looked shinier. Maybe Mrs Dubey’s magic got rubbed on it.

Photo by David Brooke Martin on Unsplash