Struggles Unveiled: On Getting Published

It's laudable to set up goals and aspire towards them. This is the only way to make life happening and directional. But we are governed by laws, be it physics, chemistry, history or civics. What glory exists in an undisciplined life? This is not a moral science kind of write-up, nor an act of self-glorification. I would welcome you, readers to take a glimpse of the journey I undertook years ago as a young and aspiring not-yet-a-poet stage (I'm still there) and share the experiences that might bring a smile on your face. I am still traveling and that journey shall go on till this heart knows how to beat and the sands exist on the inverted cup of life's hourglass.

Getting a book published and ensuring that it's allowed a proper channel for growth is not as easy as making a plum pudding. Especially when the author turns out to be a too young girl, with partly empty pockets (I do freelance work though so the pockets aren't that empty;)), having nobody on her side except Allah (that's sufficient and best though), (I can feel the stare of my loved ones :D. Take it easy!

Let me start with the story of how my first and second books were published. The poems grew in number with time and someone suggested to get it published. For a class tenth student, the world still seems to be shaping itself up, weaving its delicate threads, opening up its new channels every day, acquiring a new color every changing moment. Knowledge comes down upon us bit by bit, years by years. So in a pre-budding stage. I remember the first time I came to know about a book fair, which was held in Lucknow. I was really excited to visit it and see so many books assembled at one place. After a bit tiring journey of around 40 minutes sitting on the back seat of papa's bike and admiring the passing away trees partly covering the sky, roads reshaping themselves speedily. There was something too poetic about that semi rural sight gradually becoming urbanized with every passing second, little paan gumtis getting replaced by tall buildings, roadside trees gradually disappearing and shops, cemented structures replacing it. So as soon as I reached the place there was no sight of any book fair. The ground was in a partly disoriented state, tents, stalls almost cleared up. So there were last shards of the book fair left, and a gatekeeper busy in reading a book. We got to know that it got over a day ago. My eyes got too blurred that I could notice the title of that book. We took the journey back to home. It was easy to hide those broken heartbeats, that dream-torn face but yes I let my emotions out as soon as I reached home.

At Delhi Book Fair, my brother met a children's publisher and he liked my poems. It was a dream come true. But it took so much time, eating all my patience away. It felt like everything was a lie. I gave up on it, embittered and sad, tired of reminding my brother to know the status. Suddenly, as if after decades, two books arrived at home. It was the most beautiful moment of my life, laying my eyes on those two little ones. All pain vanished. Yet I wept. So that same feeling and excitement of getting one's book published. Then came the time for book launch. That was something :D. I was so clueless as to how I am supposed to behave, with so many eyes on me. Sudden elation scared me. I even gave one T.V. Interview. Two people came to my house. Clicked pictures, asked me to recite some poems. Allah knows what and how I spoke. Thank God it was never featured on T.V. :D and its memory slowly faded away with time. So yes we were at the book launch. It happened on 15th or 16th Jan, 2011 I guess. It was among the coldest days, with a thick fog. A big hall was booked at Nagar Palika in Barabanki. I was given the gift of a diary and a pen from the D.M. And this happened on stage. I felt so shy. I took it but felt shy enough to take it with me. As if someone will say something. Out of, don't know what, I kept it at that very side of the table and went back to my seat after the launching thing was done. Then I forgot it out of excitement. My loving school friends were there with me. We were all so happy and excited. I even spoke something. Allah knows what it was. There were many gifts. I went back home with family in our cherry colored, old model, Ainy car, carrying rose garlands. Being a rose lover, it's nothing less than heavenly to be surrounded with that tantalizing rose fragrance. I remember being surrounded with friends, a moment of pure bliss. Umama, Ayesha, Honey, Jagriti, Anam, Arpita, Shada, Sadia,etc. were all there. I remember giving an autograph on Shada's palm with a sheer dramatic expression :D. Some strangers who bought the book got it signed by me. It was so scary. Then may be after a day or two it was realized that there was no sign of D.M.'s gift. I felt so bad. One of my father's acquaintance told him that it was seen with the anchor. After further enquiries, I got the diary, but without the pen. That person stole the pen and returned the diary only because it had the D.M.'s autograph in it. So this was all about that grand event of my life that happened seven years ago.

After some years I felt that the poems have accumulated again. We contacted the same publisher who never gave any royalty, but published for free the books. Thankfully the poems were rejected, otherwise there would have been another book which I would have felt like hiding :D. Many more years passed in sadness and quarrels with my elder brother. I might have been in second year of graduation, when the desire popped up again. I typed around 200 poems during my third year of college and later, while I was working. Would do the editing between Huda City Centre and Hauz Khas Metro station. They were busy and tiresome days. After two three self-editing happened, everything was arranged with a small publication house.  But life brought a new publisher suggestion and I gave it a try. It was Authorspress. This happened during my first year of Masters. And as the third semester began, Nascent Poetry was born. I had dreams with it. Not to have amazing sales but to touch hearts with the power of simplicity.  Money is too cheap to be the sole aim to be earned out of the noble love of writing poetry. Sometimes when I look at a particular poem, I couldn't believe I wrote it. Sometimes I feel I could have written better. Amidst all the chaos of the world it's something that I can call mine, with its rare perfections, and imperfections, a work that captured my five year old, ever changing mental landscape, in pure simplicity and humbleness.

Buy Nascent Poetry here:
Amazon link: https://goo.gl/BijFXP
Authorspress website: 30% Discount: https://goo.gl/Vq3vxz

  

     Nascent Poetry enjoying the Swing :)

My dairies.. since class 7