Athabasca University Students' Alumni Fall Issue/Author Profile

Here's an article profiling me as a writer published in Athabasca University Students' Alumni Fall issue. Follow link by clicking the header above.

Season's Greetings

Wishing all a very Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year! All the best.

FAQ: Where did you get the idea to write "The End of the Dark and Stormy Night?"

There's an interesting story behind that too. Well, one of my friends said that I should never start a novel with "It was a dark and stormy night." Not having grown up here, I wasn't completely aware of the history behind that sentence. So I asked him why. He advised that nobody will then take me seriously as a writer. Well, that was the day I sat down and wrote the first sentence of THE END OF THE DARK AND STORMY NIGHT. "It was a dark and stormy night..."

This leads me to a discussion on the title. The title was originally supposed to be "The Non-Writer." But as the story evolved and changed over the years, it became clear that Ravi was not the only central character in this story; Other characters were equally contributing and interesting. I had to search for a new title that also reflected the tongue in cheek nature of the story. I assigned my daughter, who was eight at that time, to the task. She came up with the title THE END OF THE DARK AND STORMY NIGHT. So here we have it -- how the idea to write this particular novel came about.

FAQ: Why Elkford?

Well, when I emigrated to Canada in 1988 from Fiji islands, the first place I found myself was the small town of Elkford, British Columbia. Current population 3000 people! Whew! I suppose as a teenager, growing up in Fiji, my idea of Canada was much different. I expected to be surrounded by fast cars, tall buildings, herds of people, but here I was -- in Elkford. Population, less than 3000! Surrounded by mountains and waterfalls. As I grew to visit other places in Canada, however, I realised that Elkford was one of the many faces of this country we Canadians live in. So for my first published novel, I selected the the small town of Elkford as the most perfect setting and background to tell my story. I think it's noteworthy to mention that having been in Calgary for more than a decade, parts of the story is also situated in Albertan cities and towns such as Cowley, Alberta.

FAQ: Do you believe that God exists?

On good days, I am sure that God exists. But on bad days, I often wonder...

Having said that, I grew up practising Hinduism and then discovered Christianity along the way. Therefore, most of writings center around uncovering the commonalities and differences between these two religions. Also, I do this by taking a more satirical approach.

CHRISTMAS SEASON BOOK SIGNINGS

Author will be signing at the following locations over the Christmas Season:

Date: October 23, 2009
Location: Coles Bookstore, Market Mall, Calgary, AB
Time: 11 am to 5 pm

Date: October 31, 2009
Location: Chapters, Chinook Mall, Calgary, AB
Time: 1 pm to 5 pm

Date: November 20, 2009
Location: Coles Bookstore, Marlborough Mall, Calgary, AB
Time: 11 am to 5 pm

Date: December 19, 2009
Location: Chapters Spectrum, Sunridge Mall, Calgary, AB
Time: 1pm to 5 pm

Look out for other signing dates and locations in other towns and cities.

FAQ: What stories did you grow up with?

My mother, in Fiji, was a great storyteller. She used to tell me stories of Birbal and the emperor, Akbar, just about every night. I grew to love these tales. I was amused by how Birbal out smarted everyone around him with the use of his wit and intelligence. These stories taught me unforgettable life lessons and morals that puzzled my brain.

Here's one for your enjoyment:

Emperor Akbar and Birbal, and Bananas

Birbal and the Emperor were eating bananas. The Emperor would throw the peels over to Birbal's side of the table. This went on for a while. After all the bananas were eaten, the Emperor feeling like he could finally defeat Birbal smiled and said, "Birbal, you greedy fellow, look at all the bananas you ate." Birbal looked at the Emperor and retorted, "Emperor Akbar, at least I, unlike you, spared the peels."

FAQ: Which character do you most relate to?

For certain, I am not Mrs. Anand. Though I do wish I knew her personally. She is so full of laughs. I definitely can't relate to Mrs. Hicks. Perhaps the character that I can most relate to and is a lot like me is "Ravi." I can relate to his dreams of becoming a writer. I can relate to his constant struggles and off the wall sense of humor. At the end of the day, he is a lovable kinda guy, and at the end of the day, sometimes the most I can hope for is to be a lovable kinda girl. So what character is you?

FAQ: Are the characters in this book based on people you actually know?

Many fiction writers get this question. I think people forget that we write because we have an imagination and a knack of creating characters and situations that seem and become real. Having said that...

I write "fiction" novels and rarely follow anyone around, collecting their life stories. Real life and people do inspire me, but then my imagination takes over, and I end up creating characters that everyone thinks is their next door neighbor. So -- not really. Characters in this book are not based on people I know personally.

A LESBIAN STIR

Elisha walked for a while. She didn’t realize that she had passed the restaurant and the Gas Station. She came to a long bumpy log road at the edge of a steep hill. Dark haunting clouds started to drift into the wide sky. The threat of a storm lingered over the small town of Cowley, but Elisha was oblivious to everything but the road before her.
      She followed the road up to the top of a deserted place and found a rock three times the size of a watermelon. She looked out to the few lights at the bottom of the hill. An owl hooted.
      When she was a little girl, she had often dreamed of running to a place such as this: a place that was secluded and untouched. It was in this place that she would dig a hole and bury her nightmares of the prince of darkness. He always wore a black cape and chased her through the dark tunnels with a double-edged sword.
      Now she feared he chased her because she had evil thoughts. She thought about other women. She thought about caressing the fullness of their breasts and tasting the sweat on the roundness of their curves. She thought these thoughts often. And she knew God despised her for thinking these thoughts.
      Elisha sat on the hard rock. Even in a safe place such as this, she could feel the torment of her desires. And she could feel the spirit of restlessness bind her, choke her, and gag her. This was her silent secret. Her silent curse.

BOOK SIGNING AT NORTH HILL MALL COLES BOOKSTORE

Location: Coles Book Store, North Hill Mall
Date: September 26, 2009 Saturday
Time: 12:00 pm to 4:00 pm

All are welcome.

FAQ: How did you get the idea to become a writer?

From the garbage, of course.

Now let me explain.

I used to write a short story a day, back in Fiji Islands when I was very young. When I turned twelve, I finished my first screenplay called "Jeevansathi," meaning "Lifemate." It was completely written in Hindi and it dealt with divorce and extramarital affairs in the Indian culture. LOL. I Know -- I guess I didn't have better things to do at age twelve over the long summer break but to think about extramarital affairs and marriage breakdown. I had so much fun writing, that when I finished that script, I wrote another. This one was titled "Jewels." It was treasure hunt story, a more proper subject for a twelve year old to be concerned with, I suppose. I still have both stories tucked in a dusty closet somewhere!

Fifteen years later, in Canada, one of my friends was helping me move. I was throwing out everything I didn't need. He picked out two sentences I had written on a piece of paper which I threw in the garbage. He brushed off the coffee grinds and asked me who wrote that. I told him I did. He asked me if I copied it from somewhere. I told him no, I wrote that myself and throw it away. It's garbage. I was too stressed with moving to care. He put the piece of paper in his pocket. Two months or so later, when I was settled in my new place, he came over and handed me a magazine that was holding a short story competetion. He wanted me to enter that. I told him I didn't write. I thought he was being funny. He told me to just try. I eventually did. It took me three weeks to write four pages. But I remember how much fun I had. Being a creature that is known to like fun, I decided to take this further. I shared my story with others. They loved it but they didn't really believe that I wrote it. But that was okay. It told me that it had something. I entered the short story competetion and didn't win. However, this set me on a different path. I dropped the courses I was registered in the last semester towards the completion of my degree and enrolled in Creative Writing courses instead. I did well and started the chapter of my first novel. By this time more and more people were believing that I wrote and started encouraging me to continue. They wanted to know the ending of the suspense novel I started in University. I told them that I can tell them where I was going with that. But they wanted to read the ending for themselves. I assured them that there is no possible way that I will write an entire manuscript. They advised me that they were willing to wait as long as it took. Eventually, I finished that manuscript, then another, and then another.

So here it is -- How did I get the idea to become a writer? From the garbage, of course.

FAQ

I have been receiving a lot of emails with questions. I will discuss the following seven frequently asked questions in depth:
(1)How did you get the idea to become a writer?
(2)Are the characters in the book based on people you actually know?
(3)Which character is you?
(4)What stories did you grow up with?
(5)Do you believe that God exists?
(6)Why Elkford?
(7)How did you get the idea to write "The End of the Dark and Stormy Night?"

WHAT'S NEXT ON THE AGENDA - A PHOTO SHOOT!

I have recently secured an inetrview with the KARMA MAGAZINE -- Calgary's South Asian Magazine and am looking for ward to my first magazine photo shoot ever -- tentatively in September. Anyhow -- another first for me. Very pleased!!!:D

SUN AND SALSA FESTIVAL

I will be attendind a signing event at the Sun and Salsa Festival. Booth 9. Come and enjoy the sun, salsa, live music, dance, and entertainers.
DATE: JULY 19/ SUNDAY
TIME: 11 am to 5 pm

SIGNING AT CHAPTERS SPECTRUM BY SUNRIDGE MALL

Date: July 17 - 5 pm to 9 pm
July 18 - 1 pm to 5 pm
Location: Chapters Spectrum by Sunridge Mall
Calgary North East
Hope to see you there!!!!

REFLECTIONS ON MY FIRST BOOK SIGNING IN CALGARY

Well, I thought the most you do at book signings was to sit behind a desk with a pen in your hand. Was I ever wrong!!! It was definitely a lot of work promoting myself with everyone that came into the store. Overall, however, the signing was a success and I was pleased with the numbers of sales. I am now looking forward to my future signings and feel good about the bit of experience I have behind me pitching my product to potential buyers and creating interest.

ELKFORD FOCUS June 2009 Issue

Click on the header of this blog to read an article published about me in Elkford Focus, profiling me as a writer (pg 11).

Jun 07, 2009
ELKFORD FOCUS June 2009 Issue. 11. Former Elkford Resident Launches Her Debut Novel If we assume that God exists, what path do you think will lead straight to Salvation? This is the question Rajni Mala Khelawan seeks to answer in her ...

BOOK SIGNING AT MARLBOROUGH MALL, CALGARY NE

Coles Bookstore in Marlborough Mall is holding a book signing event in the NE Calgary. Date: June 26 and June 27. Time: 11 am to 5pm. This is an open event. All are welcome. Come, browse through my book, and say hello!

UPDATES -- On My Developing Career As A Writer

Well - March 22, 2009, I woke up, absolutely terrified of having to public speak. It was after all, THE DAY when my first book was launched. There was no escaping it. First things first, however. The CBC Radio interview had to be recorded. I went to the studio shaking like a leaf and recorded my first interview. I listened to it on the radio. It was good. I liked it and others liked it too. This was encouraging. Back to the launch - about thirty people showed up, regardless of the bitter snow storm. I surprised myself again. I liked the public speaking, and reading the words I had written, inspite of my attack of anxiety twenty minutes before entering the scene of the launch location. The launch was a success. And, interestingly, I didn't seem to notice the big cameras of the NUTV in the corner filming the whole event. When the time came for the on camera interview, however, it was a different story. It took a bit to ignore the camera, close up. But after I managed to do just that, the interview flowed. Next came the Asian TV interview recorded in their studio. The bright lights were actually not noticeable when the interview commenced. I never watched my two television interviews when they aired. The third interview with OMNI NEWS aired nationally. Regardless of how painful it would be, I made a committment to watch it. It aired on Monday, May 18, 2009. I was pleased with the final result. It wasn't too bad at all. With my first initial interview when I was shaking like a leaf, I remember a friend calling me after the interview aired and saying, "Well, that's what life of an artist is all about!" I guess that's true. Creating the art is one aspect of being an artist; promoting it is the other aspect. There's no going around it. And I think that's not such a bad thing. Promoting my work has been an experience, a journey in itself. And it's an experience that I wouldn't want to trade or give up on.

MORE LAUGHS FROM MRS. ANAND ... Excerpt from "The End of the Dark and Stormy Night."

   Ravi called Mrs. Anand the next day in the mid-afternoon. Mrs. Anand was in the basement plucking a headless chicken dripping with blood. She went to a farm in Jaffrey every Tuesday and bought a live tied-up bird home. She would chop off the fluttering chicken’s head and smoke it over the blazing fire pit in the backyard, then bring it to the basement, and pluck it and cut it into small pieces. After which the squared chicken pieces went into a big stainless steel pot with onions and curry powder and became supper. Doing all this ensured Mrs. Anand that India was still alive in her heart. Canadians like Jesse, who had corrupted Ravi’s way of thinking, were all lazy. All they did for their food was to go to an oversized store and buy some animal for dinner that had been dead for days. Unthinkable! Mrs. Anand still had the chicken slime on her hands when the phone rang upstairs in the living room. Reshma picked it up on the second ring.
      “Is Mom there?”
      “How much money do you want now, Ravi?”
      “None, you little twit.”  
      “Surprise! Surprise! Mom is plucking chicken right now.”
      “Why does she have to do that? She can just go to the supermarket and buy the already plucked chicken from there like the rest of us Canadians. She makes such a big mess in the basement.” Ravi shook his head on the other end of the line. “Okay, just tell her to call me the first chance she gets.”
      “Yeah, sure,” said Reshma.
      Ravi hung up and anxiously waited for his mom’s call back.
      After dinner, Mrs. Anand picked up the phone to call Ravi. Bobby came whistling a tune through the living room. Mrs. Anand’s eyes bulged open, and her mouth gaped.
      “Whistle nahi karo…nahi karo, Bobby. Cheh bas gaya hai. Don’t whistle. Bobby, don’t whistle. It’s past six o’clock.”
      According to Mrs. Anand, whistling past six o’clock was inviting trouble to your household as it awakened the spirits of the dead and attracted them into your home. Bobby stopped whistling and quietly went to his room with his ‘scapeboard.’ And Mrs. Anand, her breathing still labored, dialed Ravi’s number and looked over her shoulder to make sure that Bobby’s whistling had not stirred the spirits in her own living room.
      Ravi answered on the other end. Mrs. Anand, pleased that she didn’t have to hear the cow-eater’s voice, said, “It’s my Ravi…my Ravi beta. My son, Ravi. How much money do you need?”
      “Jeez Mom, it’s not like the only time I phone you is when I need money. I just need to borrow your van…for ten days.”
      “Ten days? Why?”
      “Jesse and I are planning a trip to Calgary.”
      “Why do you have to go to Calgary? I hear the traffic is crazy there.”
      “We just wanted to go Stampeding, Mom, for ten days,” said Ravi in the tone of a ten-year-old, which Jesse despised and which reminded Mrs. Anand that he was still her boy.
      “You guys can’t afford that.”
      “We saved money for it, Mom.”
      “Saved money for it? How long have you been planning this? And you didn’t tell your mother, Ravi? If you didn’t want the van, then you both would have left and never told me. I would have been left wondering and worrying where you went.” Mrs. Anand started sniffling. It was all Jesse’s doing.
      Ravi was used to his mother’s elaborate performances. “You will still have the car, Mom.”
      “I know.”
      Jesse asked in the background if she was crying again. Mrs. Anand overheard. She stopped sniffling as Ravi put a forefinger on his lips, motioning Jesse to be quiet.
      Mrs. Anand decided to teach Jesse a lesson for listening in on a conversation with her son. She hemmed and hawed. Ravi pleaded shamelessly. Mrs. Anand said that Mr. Anand was the head of the house and that she would have to talk it over with him. Ravi said that Mr. Anand would say yes if she said yes. Mrs. Anand smiled at that comment. Then she requested that Jesse leave the room as it was hindering her thoughts and ability to make a decision about them borrowing her van. Ravi covered the mouthpiece of the phone and asked Jesse to leave the room. When Jesse went to the bedroom and banged the door shut, Mrs. Anand commented that doors should always be closed gently.
      While Ravi waited silently on the other end of the line, Mrs. Anand pondered her next move. If they took Reshma and Bobby with them to Calgary, then she and Anando could have a romantic escape of their own in Elkford. She could wear her plus-size French-maid costume and dust her Anando’s balding head with her pink feather duster. The outfit was stacked at the very back of her closet in the green box where she kept a few other necessities such as the fishnet stockings that went with the frilly mini skirt and the small vibrator that you slid onto your forefinger to enhance anyone’s pleasure.
      So she agreed to lend her van. It was quick thinking, especially with Jesse out of the room and the thought of Anando very slowly sliding the fishnet stockings off her thunderous thighs.
      She gave Ravi a few more rules to adhere to while traveling in her van.
      “You make sure that your wife doesn’t smoke in the van,” she said. “And spraying peach spray all over it like you did last time did not make it smell nicer again, Ravi.”
      “You know about that?”
      Mrs. Anand raised her eyebrows on the other end. “Hm,” she said, pursing her lips into a tight line.
      Ravi thanked his mother, told her he loved her, and let her know that they were planning to leave after supper the coming Friday. Mrs. Anand smiled as she hung up the phone. It was all set. Ravi called Jesse to phone Elisha on her cell.

MY FAVORITE SCENE - Ravi goes to the theatre - from "The End of the Dark and Stormy Night."

The crowd went up to the ticket booth. The ticket girl asked Ravi which movie he was there to see and how many people were with him. Ravi told her it was for movie number four and that there were three adults and three youths. The girl advised him of the cost. Ravi’s eyes bulged.
      “Ninety-five dollars and fifty cents?” said Ravi. “Are you crazy? Count again.”
      “No, I’m not crazy. It’s fifteen dollars for each adult and thirteen dollars and fifty cents for each youth.”
      “Does that include popcorn?”
      “No.”
      “Plain popcorn? Popcorn without butter?”
      “No.”
      “Then what does that include?”
      “It just pays for the seats.”
      “What kind of seats do you have in there? Do they vibrate? If I pay that much for a chair, then it better be a vibrating chair so that I can keep all the ladies you see standing behind me happy.”
      The ticket girl looked at Ravi with a blank stare. Jesse asked Ravi to just get the tickets and stop making a scene. Ravi took out his debit card to pay for the tickets and said, “Fine, give me the tickets. But remember that I am a very dissatisfied customer. I won’t be coming back here. It’s a rip-off!”
      Ravi punched in his security code on the transaction machine and the girl printed off the tickets. The others chipped in to pay for the popcorn, which, according to Ravi, was also overpriced.
      “You want eight dollars and fifty cents for that large bag? Are you crazy? That would barely feed one person! I hope you use real butter for that cost.”
      They didn’t. They used low-fat margarine. Ravi thought that was another rip-off. Last time he went to the theatre, the tickets were only six dollars, and they used real butter.

MY FAVORITE CHARACTER - Mrs. Anand - from "The End of the Dark and Stormy Night."

CHAPTER 8

      Jesse waited outside at the Anands’. Ravi went inside to pick up the van keys. Mr. Anand was in the shower. Mrs. Anand was glued to the six o’clock news on the TV. She didn’t move. She didn’t budge when the doorbell rang; it was Reshma who opened the front door.
      Ravi found his mother gripping her chest with both hands, her mouth open, her lower lip moist, her double chin appearing two sizes larger than it truly was. There were brown and black spotted cows mooing on the television. The female news anchor said that the first case of mad cow disease was discovered in Alberta, leading the U.S. and other major countries to close their gates to Albertan beef.
      The cows finally fought back, Mrs. Anand thought.
      “Mom,” said Ravi.
      Mrs. Anand looked up at her son and smiled.
      “Hear that? Now everyone will think twice before they eat cows.”

THE CHASE FACTOR IN THE LOVE EQUATION

As I research dating books and relationship manuals to try and figure out what makes a boy choose a girl and a girl choose a boy and love happen, one theme becomes constantly familiar. It's all about the chase. The boy must pursue, the girl must never indicate too much of an interest. Too much interest from the girl's side will kill the man's passion and desire for her, hence his love for her. The man is "the hunter." Okay - so the last time I looked outside, women were not gathering berries. So why are men still hunting?? Shoudn't a man and a woman just simply meet in the middle, no chase, no surrender, just a lot of communication, and that becomes the cornerstone of love? And what if, we come to believe that Chase = Chasee Not Wanting The Chaser. Even if one day the Chasee says "I do" to the Chaser and the Chaser feels he won her love. Did he really win her love or did she just settle? And a decade or so down the road, will she get bored and one day get up and walk away, leaving the Chaser wondering where he went wrong and should he have gone for that girl that was happy to see him come home? What if -- What if, we only chase those that chase us, regardless of the gender, and put the chase factor back where it belongs in the love equation. You run to me and I run to you - love should be as simple as that, shouldn't it? Re: My Second Novel "A Suitable Mate."

FUNNY PICTURE

Well, it was brought to my attention that people do indeed throw their underwears on signs...and there are pictures to confirm this. It was a laugh to receive this. Thanks. I welcome any other such pictures :D

PANTIE ON THE DETOUR SIGN

IS THERE ANY FIJI STILL LEFT IN YOU?

When Russell Bowers from CBC RADIO asked this question, it momentarily stumped me. Is there any Fiji still left in me?

When we emigrate to a foreign country and assimilate into a totally foreign culture, how much of our native homeland do we retain and carry within ourselves forever. Do we choose the cultural values and beliefs that we let go of and the ones we hold on to? And over time, do we loose more of these values or is it that when we get older, we slowly make our way back to those roots that we thought we left behind? Is there any Fiji still left in me? I want to believe that there is a lot of Fiji left in me!

THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!

A successful first launch and reading. Very happy. I have a few people to thank --

Russell Bowers from CBC RADIO - for my very first on air interview.
Stephanie Johnston from NU TV - for covering this event from start to finish.
Simone Lee from Pages Bookstore - for providing the absolute location for this event.
Tandoori Hut - for generously providing the delicious pakoras.
Judith Snell from Busy Bags - for helping with the event.
Alex England - for being the master of the ceremonies.
Aniz Hooda, Reiki Master - for the barfi and galebi.
Catherina Kerssens - for the beautiful roses.

THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!

MY DEBUT BOOK LAUNCH

My book launch will be held at Pages Bookstore in Kensington, Calgary, Alberta at 6 PM. There will be East Indian appetizers and beverages available for your enjoyment. The after party will be held at Kensington Pub. I am very excited about this upcoming event and I am looking forward to celebrating with my supporters and friends.

A SMOKING BURGLAR?

So - A worried mother finds a cigarette butt in her toilet. She calls her trusted friend in a state of panic, claiming somebody broke into her house and smoked a cigarette and left. Nothing was stolen. Nothing was moved. Nothing was touched. The mother was worried beyond belief. She tells the trusted friend the brand of the cigarette. The friend asks her if she was sure that it wasn't her daughter's. The daughter who goes to an American University was home for Christmas only a week before. The mother adamantly states that her daughter does not smoke. To this day, she still claims and worries about the smoking burglar. This "Blindness" is exactly what my novel "The End of the Dark and Stormy Night" is about. It is interesting how people would rather put their faith in a smoking burglar than what may be the obvious explanation.

Cracking Glass Is A Good Thing!

I sold my first copy of my book and used my first twenty to purchase a bottle of baileys for a PARTy! Unfortunately, the full bottle slipped out of my hands and cracked into a million pieces on the sidewalk. I was pretty sad about this -- the first thing I purchased from the sale of my first book -- shattered into a million pieces. One of my friends, however, rejoiced and said, "Yeah, Greeks always break glass to mark celebration and Jewish weddings end with the breaking of glass as well. So -- breaking glass is a good thing -- a symbol of celebration. I guess it all comes down to perspective -- negative or positive -- you choose how you want to look at things.