After three months of writing and editing my second Detective Raya Ray novel, I was finally ready to take the next step. So, on Tuesday afternoon, I initiated the process of mailing a document set related to the book to my literary agent. While there are many steps before the final version is published both in paperback and e-book format, I’m glad that I could give Raya a challenging case to crack. Coincidentally, it is also my birthday month.
Since March’21, the doctor husband is back to his erratic schedule. I’m left with no choice but to raise the kid single-handedly once again. Shuttling between anxiety and helplessness, writing this book was my survival strategy. It also helped that I had my strongest support system in my brave five-and-a-half-year-old, who has barely met his father six times in sixty days. His interest in my project is beyond inspiring.
But I must also confess that the kid is a tough taskmaster. No reporting authority in my erstwhile corporate career has ever sought a status update of my work at a frequency of every half-an-hour, like this child. Phew! I’m quite glad that he has decided to shift his focus to Enid Blyton’s Mr. Noddy for the time being.
It is a tough time to live in. In the last couple of weeks, I’ve heard close friends lose their loved ones. I wasn’t even sure if I should put up an update on the book, especially when we are struggling to survive. But, art is a great survival strategy as well. It takes away our grief, worries, and hopelessness momentarily and gives us reason to dream of a better world. With a ray of hope in my heart that this too shall pass, I go back to balancing my role as a mother and a writer. Someday, I wish to write a book on what it means to be the wife of a frontline warrior.
Stay safe, stay home (if possible), take care, and wear a mask. We need to break the chain. Stay tuned for more updates related to Raya’s latest case.
April is one of my favorite months since we celebrate my father’s birth on 1st April. As a banker, I looked forward to a relaxed April month after a grueling financial year-end in March. For the last three years, April represented the A2Z challenge daily blogging for me. But this year, I bowed out of the event in the last week of March after realizing that editing 1 lakh plus words of my second novel would require longer time, dedicated efforts, and undivided attention.
I began the first round of editing by March third week. I finished the third round of editing in the wee hours of the morning today. It is a hard-earned day off for me after twenty-six days of working at a stretch. I’ll go back to the final round of manuscript editing tomorrow before mailing it to my literary agent.
On the personal front, we celebrated Baba’s birthday together. Last year, the sudden lockdown stranded him at Berhampore, while we stayed in Kolkata. My son started his second year of online classes on 12th April. Who would’ve thought that a year later, we would still be fighting the second Corona wave? The situation is worsening every day as election rallies get precedence over the need for social distancing. It’s painful to see kids adjust to yet another year of no friends, no classrooms, and no playground. Never did I imagine that a new uniform that was to bring joy to a class 1 kid wasn’t going to get dirty with pencil marks, crayon colors, and shared tiffin for another year.
We had one year to prepare for another pandemic. Instead of strengthening the healthcare sector, people in power spent money on election rallies, religious institutions, and statues. Now that people are dying due to an acute shortage of beds/oxygen cylinders/vaccines, will those who justified the expenditure on unnecessary structures take their families to such places instead of a hospital? My husband and his colleagues in the medical fraternity are back to war mode. And their families are back to where we were last year.
People in power have failed us, but it is the indomitable spirit of the common people that gives me hope. Yesterday, a bunch of us collated lists and reached out to authorities seeking help on Twitter. We aren’t giving up so easily. However, now that we know we are on our own, please wear a mask (or a double mask, if needed) and maintain social distancing protocols.
I’ll be back next month with the next update on Raya Ray’s second case. Until then, stay safe, and stay at home.
Happy new year, everyone!
I’m posting a wish 15 days late because I was unwell for more than ten days. The respiratory issues that engulfed my life in 2019 resurfaced after a year and aggravated during winters. It kept me away from reading, writing, blogging, or even working on my writing projects.
Unfortunately, the husband also returned from duty with a severe stomach infection. So, the situation at home looks a little grim right now. But I hope that we can overcome this state and return to a healthy life soon.
On the positive side, the country started the vaccination process today. It is the first step towards winning this battle against the Coronavirus. I’m waiting for the day when the ‘new normal’ gets replaced by our old lifestyle.
Before the breathing problem overtook my existence, I began the new year by reading some beautiful books. Since last year, my reading range has primarily covered literary fiction. So, after getting the MFA degree, I rushed back to the thriller genre. My first book was the delightful read ‘The Thursday Murder Club’ by Richard Osborn. I will put up a detailed review later, but I enjoyed every bit of this crime thriller.
I hope everyone had a great start in 2021, a year of hope and happiness. I intend to get back to frequent blogging this year; I’ll share my blogging plans for this year soon. Until then, take care and stay safe.
At the beginning of 2020, my writing journey looked quite thrilling. I made it to the shortlist of Orange Flower Awards 2020 in a couple of categories and won multiple awards for my debut novella. I was invited as a speaker to the Women Writers’ Fest in Kolkata, and the MFA course gave me the right push to stay motivated. And then the pandemic brought the world to a standstill.
I’ve often written about my journey as a doctor’s wife in a year that tested my patience and perseverance. It is through written words and my five-year-old son’s company that kept me going. Since the year is about to end in less than ten days, I wish to take this opportunity to express my gratitude to those who engulfed my life with support, love, and compassion. My family and my close circle of friends are nothing short of blessings in my life.
The MFA certificate arrived on 12th December. After two post-graduate degrees in science and management, the third degree in creative writing made me the happiest. I hope to continue creating through books for the rest of my life.
On 21st December 2020, my debut detective thriller ‘Deal of Death’ completed a year of its launch on Amazon. To everyone who read, took out time to leave a review on Amazon and feedback on Goodreads, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. But if you are one of the rare ones yet to grab a copy, you can download the e-book here. (It is free on Kindle Unlimited, so don’t miss the chance.)
Yesterday, my son performed in the online Christmas celebration conducted by his school. He spoke about how the festival represents the joy of love and brotherhood/sisterhood. To see the kid transform from a shy toddler to a confident kindergarten student was a magical moment for me. It made me take a trip down memory lane, reminiscing the delightful Christmas celebrations in my convent school.
Just before I wrap up this post, I am excited about my writings getting nominated yet again for the Orange Flower Awards 2021 in the categories of short fiction, humor, social impact, and women at work. I am keeping my fingers crossed for the next levels in the hat-trick year.
I will remember 2020 as a year that taught me resilience. As we enter 2021, I hope the world is finally free of Covid-19, and we get the opportunity to go back to the old ‘normal’ way of living. Here’s wishing you a merry Christmas and a happy new year in advance. I will see you again in 2021.
November isn’t a kind month in my life. Exactly nine years ago, Ma passed away on 12th November, and I am still trying to deal with the irreparable loss. Yet, life has to move on, and I drag myself to face the situation even on days I wish I could disappear.
Today is children’s day, a day that reminds me of the best childhood memories associated with my alma mater, Mary Immaculate School in Berhampore. Due to the pandemic, my son won’t be celebrating his special day with his friends at school. So we are trying to make it a fun-filled day for him at home.
It is a double delight since today is also Diwali, the festival of lights. It is on this day that we celebrate Kali Puja in Bengal. While the crisis demands us to act sensibly, we decided to have a small celebration with family this year. So, it will be a no-cracker and no-pandal-hopping kind of celebration for us.
As we light up our lives, I pray to Ma Kali that we also become sensitive to the less privileged ones around us and help them enjoy the festival of joy. I also hope that we continue nurturing the child in all of us to make the world a better place.
I wish you a happy Diwali and a joyful children’s day. Stay safe and stay protected.
In the last three posts, I wrote about my experience of celebrating Durga Puja in Mysore, Bangalore, Kolkata, and Berhampore. For the last post in this series, I wish to speak about the way life and the idea of celebrating a festival changed for us this year.
Life during the pandemic taught me perseverance and resilience. My son and I hadn’t taken a trip outside Kolkata since March. It was more out of compulsion than by choice that we decided to return to Berhampore after more than a year this October. Leaves were canceled at my husband’s workplace during the festival. Both my father and in-laws weren’t in a position to travel back to Kolkata at such short notice.
After the mandatory isolation period, the only distance that I traveled in Berhampore was from my in-law’s house to Baba’s home for a couple of days. I consciously decided not to step out of home for pushpanjali or pandal hopping. We offered our prayers at home. The bhog preparation for our para pandal happens on the ground floor of my home. Thus, we weren’t deprived of the delicious food options during the festival.
While I have a couple of pictures of Tuneer celebrating with my father and in-laws, I could only click a single picture of Ma Durga in the pandal near my home. I took the snap standing 10 meters away from the pandal while I was leaving for my in-law’s place. My husband clicked the other picture of their UCC Durga puja, which has entered its third year since inception.
We missed out on meeting friends, enjoying the endless adda sessions, visiting multiple pandals, and eating out at restaurants. But it was a conscious decision to stay indoors, not just for our safety but also for the ones who are most vulnerable to this deadly virus. I wish to remember 2020 as a year that showed us the importance of minimalism and sensible choices.
I hope you had a grand Durga Puja, celebrating in your way but without compromising on precautions. Here’s wishing you and your family a Shubo Bijoya Dashami/ Vijaya Dashami and Happy Dusshera. May we overcome the hurdles to go back to the old normal very soon.
If you have read any of my posts, or follow me on any social media platform, you would know that I have a doctor for a husband. As batchmates from school, best friends, and eventually a married couple, we have explored the joys and sorrows of life for more than two decades now. Yet, nothing prepared us for the most difficult phase of our lives that began in March 2020.
After the pandemic hit, his posting took him to one of the Government hospitals in a faraway district of Bengal. My father, who travelled to our home town just before the pandemic struck, couldn’t return because of the lockdown. My in-laws, who had come for a month’s visit to Kolkata, had no option but to stay back. It was a tough time becoming the primary caregiver to a five-year-old son and ageing in-laws while balancing the MFA course.
As we grappled with the new normal, my husband’s work schedule went from bad to worse. They were working round the clock, without a break. The fraternity of doctors, nurses and primary healthcare workers were fighting like frontline warriors. Yet they also had another fight to get the requisite number of PPE kits, N95 masks, sanitizers and other essential items.
Within a couple of weeks, I saw people banging utensils to show appreciation for the fraternity, helicopters showering flowers to show gratitude and a top Bollywood actor re-releasing a song comparing the dedication of doctors to men in uniform. Although I could never stop worrying about the risk his profession carried, I felt proud of his service in this crisis.
The facade was short-lived. A few days after the thali-banging ceremony, one of my husband’s seniors from college was asked to shift by their residential complex society because his duty exposed him to the deadly virus, making him a threat to other residents. They didn’t have the common sense to think that the same doctors would risk their lives to treat them from Corona. Thus began the discrimination against doctors.
Violence against doctors is on a rise. In Bengal and the rest of India, there are very few days when one doesn’t hear of friends/relatives of patients beating up doctors without any provocation or reason. Last year, one of the junior doctors in Kolkata was hit by a mob in such a brutal way that his skull cracked. Every profession has a few rotten apples that bring their line of work a bad name. Then why is it the doctors who are at the forefront of facing such violence and discrimination as they risk their lives to save that of others?
Despite their selfless service, there are instances where doctors haven’t received any payment for months, they were asked to vacate rented accommodation, and have faced the falsified allegations of medical negligence. They go through such trauma at a time when most of them haven’t even seen/met their families for months at a stretch. Even when they return home, they keep themselves isolated for days before embracing their child or hugging their loved ones.
I refuse to agree with the age-old belief that doctors are second to God. It puts them on a pedestal with an unnecessary pressure to be capable of performing miracles. What we need to understand is that doctors are humans too, battling health and wellness issues, as put their problems behind to cater to the needs of a patient. While they continue serving the citizens with care and compassion, the least that they deserve is our respect, kindness and gratitude.
For the last nine months, I had a tough time explaining to my son about why he gets to talk to his father mostly over video calls. I heard the panic in my in-laws’ voice whenever they called me to check on their son’s schedule. I saw the concern in my father’s eyes every time he hears about my husband skipping meals to attend to his duties. And I have been trying to push away every negative thought from my mind as I grapple to hold the family together. And, I am just one of the many families who have lent their unrelenting support to a doctor/doctors in the family.
As a doctor’s wife, I am proud of the way my husband and his fraternity has been on duty during this crisis period. As a thinking and opinionated individual, I also want to scream out at the apathy of those in power and the blood-thirsty mob culture that has become a threat to the sanctity of this profession. None of us signed up for this level of unnecessary tension and stress. So, please stop considering doctors equivalent to God and expect them to have magical healing powers. I would rather request you to treat them as a fellow human with the same dignity and compassion that an individual deserves.
“I am taking my blog to the next level with Blogchatter’s My Friend Alexa 2020″ campaign. Stay tuned to read my third rant post in this series.
I started the last trimester of the MFA course this month. For the past few months, I haven’t blogged much or written actively on any digital platform. Yet, I was writing a lot, mostly through my assignments. Amidst all this, the pandemic stuck. I have often spoken about how the Covid-19 crisis hit us as a family, with the medical professional husband away on duty for months. His posting outside the city compelled us to mostly connect over video calls. It is still difficult to explain to the son why he gets to meet his father just once a month, for a couple of days. For three months, I felt stuck, frustrated, and annoyed. Almost everyone around me moved ahead, upgraded their skills, progressed in career, and did a great job of balancing their roles. And, I was struggling to stay afloat amidst this chaos. It was overwhelming.
Two months back, I decided to log out of social media, uninstall all apps except Twitter, quit 20+ groups on WhatsApp, block people I didn’t wish to stay in touch with any longer, and focus on the optimization of restrained circumstances. I spent two months nurturing the relationships I genuinely care about. I worked steadily for the MFA course and read books in genres I could never appreciate before. I finally made peace with my bushy eyebrows, shoulder-length hair, and supposed ‘laidback’ pace of publishing books.
On Aug 22nd, I decided to return on social media, consciously restricting the time I spend on each platform. I wanted to share my journey of handling a difficult phase with a lot of people who were struggling too. But what primarily occupied my thoughts was the book that I am currently reading – ‘A Suitable Boy’ by Vikram Seth. I gave up reading it a couple of times in the past. But when I borrowed the book from the library last month, little did I know that this going to be a delightful reading journey of the literary world. It confirms my belief that there exists a suitable time and space for every book in our lives.
September is a very special month for me. Exactly 5 years ago, my son Tuneer was born on the 22nd of this month. Therein began our journey of parenthood. The lockdown introduced him to a bunch of superheroes. From Superman, Batman, Spiderman, Captain America, Avengers to Justice League, his love for these characters made us rename him as Tuneerman. We had plans to celebrate it with friends and family before Covid-19 brought life to a standstill. The family has come together to make it all about his favorite cartoons and superheroes. The tees are from his paternal grandparents, maternal grandfather, and his father. The ‘Othello’ game is from his best friend. I chose to gift the posters and a surprise puzzle set is on the way. He was so excited about the presents that we couldn’t coax him to wait until the 22nd to open them. That expression on his face after unwrapping the packages made every effort feel special.
I look forward to a kinder, safer, healthier, and fulfilling month. Stay safe and take care.
Janmashtami is celebrated with elan in my marital home. Ever since we moved back to Kolkata, we ensured to make a trip to Berhampore to attend the festival. Unfortunately, the pandemic made it impossible to travel this year with our soon-to-turn-five-year-old.
The celebrations of our family deities, Shyam-Rai, were a low-key affair this year with only family members attending the rituals. Yet, we couldn’t help but feel sad at missing the happiness of the day. To cheer up the kid, I decided to have a small puja at home after dressing him up as little Krishna. The pictures of the deities and rituals from his paternal grandparents in the evening brought a big smile on his face.
May Lord Krishna help us overcome this crisis. Stay safe and take care.