Yvonne Vaz Ezdani is an inspiration, a beauty and a talent W Sent from my iPad Pro
www.wendellrodricks.com Address: Wendell Rodricks, Campal, Panjim, Goa. 403001. INDIA Off: +91-832-2420604 Shop:+91-832-2238177 E-retail: wendellrodricks.com > On 08-Jul-2016, at 4:20 PM, Goanet Reader <[email protected]> wrote: > > The Story of a Book > > Yvonne Vaz Ezdani > [email protected] > > [This is an extract from the book *From Mind to Keyboard*, > which has 30 writers from Goa and beyond narrate their > encounter with the written world. The book, edited by Sheela > Jaywant, is to be launched at a public function at the > International Centre Goa, Dona Paula, later today on July 9, > 2016, Saturday, at 10.30 am.] > > A little girl sat listening with horror to stories > of war, planes flying over and dropping bombs, > killing, maiming and destroying. Thousands had to > flee the enemy. My father, who had lived through it > all, narrated how many people, old and young, sick > and strong, were forced to walk from Burma to > India, through thick jungles, over steep mountains > and cross dangerously swollen rivers. The hungry > refugees followed monkeys to see what fruits and > berries they could eat. There were even those who > lay on their bellies, biting grass off the ground > because they were too weak to pull it out with > their hands. > > My mother told me, she was stalked by some Japanese soldiers > who wanted to put her away in a camp where rape and torture > was rampant. She resolved to consume a bottle of iodine to > end her life rather than be taken by them. The day they came > to 'arrest' her, a friend who was an English-Japanese > interpreter happened to accompany them and his > gift-of-the-gab as well as my grandmother's offer of fresh > strawberries and cream to the soldiers helped change their > minds; they left my mother alone after that. I would never > have been born if the Japanese soldiers had arrested my > mother that day. > > The Burmese are great story-tellers. I heard many accounts of > the hardships people endured during 'Japanese days' from > sources besides my parents. They told me how the aerial > bombing by the Japanese in Rangoon and other parts of Burma > caused much suffering to those who fled the country as well > as those who stayed behind. The seed of the book Songs of the > Survivors must have been sown then. > > Later, I became a student of English literature, passionate > about books and music, with a secret desire to write a > powerful dramatic novel of unquenchable love, another > Wuthering Heights so to say. > > But the realities of being wife, mother, homemaker and > provider took over. Plus, I went through a dark patch of > seemingly unending work and worry. Struggling to keep my head > above water, I could not think of sitting at a desk, pen in > hand, filling pages with a flow of inspired phrases and > sentences. > > Then one day, Thelma Menezes came into the picture. Strong, > half-Burmese, bedridden and in constant pain, well-known as a > freelance columnist for the Pune dailies, she was one of the > survivors of the 1942 trek across the Indo-Burma border. > > Whenever I went on holiday to my brother's place in > Pune, she was one person that I just had to visit. > She was inspiring. When I remarked that the stories > of Burma-Goans, especially survivors of World War > II, needed to be recorded for posterity, she told > me that I was the one to do it. I was flattered. I > wanted to tell the untold stories. I wanted to > write. But could I? Should I? Did I have it in me? > Would I have the time to write a `book'? > > About two years passed before I dared think about it again. > > I mentioned it one day to Frederick Noronha, who was cycling > down the lane in front of my house and had stopped by to > chat. He enthusiastically encouraged me to start. > > "Who will read my book? Who will publish it? I know nothing > of how books are printed and published or sold," I worried. > > "I will help with the publishing and printing." > > That was all I needed, a knowledgeable person willing to be > involved! Frederick was a journalist, familiar with writing > and publishing. I began collecting stories with no real > blueprint for the book. Thelma got me four contacts who added > their stories to the ten I had from relatives and friends. > > I thought, 'This is going to make a very slim book, so I will > introduce people to the land I loved and grew up in.' > > During my six-month holiday in Australia, I read > all the books I could on Burma, spent hours at my > daughter's computer searching the Internet and > compiled some historical, geographical and cultural > facts into what I felt would give readers a glimpse > into this beautiful and suffering land. It was a > labour of love. As a result of an appeal sent to > Goanet [http://lists.goanet.org/pipermail/goanet-goanet.org/], > I collected four more accounts. On my return to > Goa, inexplicably and without much effort on my > part, I got five more contributors willing to tell > their stories. I now had 23 chapters and some photographs. > > I added as a postscript, my story of a Goan family living in > post-War, independent Burma; my brother added a chapter of > anecdotes. > > Everything flowed smoothly along and the right individuals > came into the picture. I did not have a publisher or > distributor. > > * * * > > One day I casually asked Frederick, "Could you publish the > book?" > > "I could." > > "Are you sure about it?" I had no other options and I trusted > him. > > Thus Goa,1556 was born! This was the first book published by > that imprint, which completes a decade this year. > > We had no money to invest. So Frederick approached Khalil > Ahmed who owns Broadway Book Store, Panjim. He agreed to bear > the cost of printing and distribution. Cecil Pinto helped pro > bono in whatever way he could. He coordinated with my > daughter, Shannon, in Australia, via emails, to make the > cover. He also got me in touch with Alisha Colaco who did the > maps patiently and precisely. Two young friends helped put > the contents of the manuscript onto the computer. Another, a > computer whiz, showed the way to neatly layout the pages. > Someone 'up there' was taking care of *Songs of the Survivors*. > > But in spite of multi-tasking, I had to make > deliberate attempts to shut down other jobs and try > to complete some chapters each day. I spent a lot > of time conversing with Burma-Goans who recounted > their war-time experiences along with irrelevant > details which I would have enjoyed listening to at > some other time. Most of the stories were told to > me orally. The survivors were old and had > difficulty recalling certain names and dates. One > lady was ill with cancer; I did not have the heart > to ask her too many questions. > > I jotted down notes while they spoke, then compiled them at > home and made umpteen phone-calls to confirm that I had the > facts right. I agonized over getting the personality of the > storyteller into the narration and suspected that the words > and expressions I used were not apt. A few stories I > scrapped, others I rewrote. Some contributors themselves > wrote down their memoirs and sent them to me by email, > airmail or 'per kind favour of...' . They permitted me to > edit their articles but I tried as far as possible to keep > them in their original form. Even so, I had to go through > them several times to weed out mistakes, change the sequence > of the paragraphs etc. > > 'Do I use a comma or semi-colon here?' 'Is it grammatically > correct to use a hyphen between these two words?' 'Isn't it > shameful for an English teacher to have to refer to > spellchecks and relearn punctuation?' 'This keyboard is so > confusing -- why do I keep making these typos?' > > I was told to use some new software that I took ages to master. > > "It's driving me nuts. I don't have to do this. I don't want > to do this anymore." > > Sometimes I could not see eye to eye with Frederick. I liked > some of the changes he suggested but I wanted us to go > through my work meticulously with a fine-tooth-comb while he > was impulsive and quick at deleting and modifying. I told him > how much I appreciated his help but I was also honest about > changes that I thought did not really bring out the > sentiments of the contributors. At one point I think we both > got fed up of each other and kept silent for some days. But > our friendship and mutual respect for each other saw us > through our differences. > > One thing troubled me. I was a citizen of what > former *Illustrated Weekly of India* editor Pritish > Nandy calls the 'Republic of the Unseen', content > in my private world. I was uneasy with the thought > that a book with my name on it would propel me out > of my comfort zone. I wanted neither bouquets nor > brickbats. > > I think the desire to complete the book went deeper than all > the other feelings. > > When Frederick sent the rough draft of the book to eminent > writers and asked for their comments to be put on the cover > of the book, I wanted to disappear. If he had asked me, I > would have said 'no' and rewritten the whole book. But the > book had taken on a life of its own. The cover was finalized, > the chapters were given titles and I was given a deadline. > > The month before the book went to press was filled with > feverish last minute editing, proof-reading, deciding the > photographs... I cannot describe the anxieties of a > first-time author. In spite of his 'don't worry, yaar', I'm > sure the first-time publisher also went through his own > worries. Dr. Teotónio R de Souza wrote a foreword for the > book at Frederick's request. In his view, Burma-Goans had no > real patriotism and were ready to play tunes for any colonial > masters. This did not gel with my portrayal of the endurance > and determination of the survivors, so we did without that > foreword and the subjective observations of a great historian. > > My role in the making of the book was done. The publisher, > the printer and whoever, could do whatever. I did not want to > stress about it anymore. > > About three weeks later I got an excited call from Frederick. > He was coming over with the book. All the stress returned for > a moment. The next thing I knew, someone was trying to climb > over my garden wall as my freshly-painted gate was padlocked. > He was trying to contain his happiness but I could see > through his, "There are some small things we missed out. > There are some glitches. There are some instructions we > forgot to give the printer." > > I was oblivious to anything negative. The colour of the cover > was exactly as I wanted it, the layout of the pages was neat, > the quality of the paper was good: I could see no reason not > to celebrate the completion of this project. I was on a high > seeing my book in print. There would be time for a critical > evaluation later. > > We began to prepare for the release of the book on > December 27, 2007, at the Xavier Centre of > Historical Research, Alto Porvorim. Everyone agreed > that it was an appropriate venue. Nine survivors > were present. A local TV-channel covered the > programme. We sold all the books that had been > brought to the venue. Someone 'up there' was still > watching over *SOTS*. > > Two days later my interview with a *Navhind Times'* reporter > was published with my photograph. I did not leave the house > for two days and was embarrassed even by the phone-calls I > got. My name was on Saligao-Net, Goanet and reviews of the > book were being published. > > I found it difficult to deal with all this at > first. Slowly, my attitude changed. I think later I > even began to enjoy the attention. But every day I > saw where I could have removed or added something. > I could have gone deeper into the minds and > experiences of the survivors. I felt humble that > people were saying nice things about the book, but > knew I could have done better. Negative criticism > took getting used to: someone commented in his > review that I had asked only Burma-Goans from a > certain caste for their stories. I had not even > been aware of it and it seemed such a ridiculous > remark but I tried to understand the background of > the reviewer. There were also some mild comments > about my method of editing which I accepted and > vowed not to repeat. > > The following year, four of the contributors passed away and > later, five more died. They and their families had been very > happy to see their stories in print. Some of them became > emotional and nostalgic, over phone or email, when they spoke > about their parents. I was especially touched when an elderly > nun came to visit me to tell me how grateful she was to read > of her grandmother's burial in one of the stories. With tears > she told me that the family assumed that, like many others > who had not survived the trek, her grandmother's body had > been left by the wayside in the jungles to be devoured by > wild animals. This one instance alone made me feel good about > the book. > > Once, a Russian lady called me up from Switzerland > and told me how much she was touched by my book. > She had bought it whilst holidaying in Goa. She was > reminded of her mother who had gone through a > similar experience trying to escape from her > country. She was weeping. I wept with her. > > A Bengali gentleman living in Germany got in touch with me > after a Goan friend of his sent him my last chapter. He had > lived in the same town in the Shan State that I mentioned. It > was heartwarming when he and his wife came to Goa and had a > Burmese meal with my family. > > One of my old schoolmates in UK was feeling nostalgic about > St Agnes Convent where he had studied. He googled the name of > the school and my story came up. He got in touch with me and > sent my email id and phone number to friends who had migrated > to the USA and UK. Within days I started getting calls from > them. Someone sent an ex-teacher a copy of my book and in my > photograph she recognized the eight-year-old she had known. > > When my daughters in Brisbane, Australia, showed > *SOTS* to their friends they wanted to buy copies. > On my next trip there, I carried a load of books > instead of my usual stuff. It was worth it. I was > treated like a celebrity when deep down I didn't > feel like one. The book made me known in certain > circles. > > I was lucky not to have had to go from one publisher to > another. I would have been totally dejected if I'd had to > face rejection. > > All in all, I am glad I overcame my doubts and inhibitions > and completed this book of non-fiction. I learnt a few > lessons along the way and gained self-confidence. > > When the books were sold out, Frederick advised me to rewrite > a second edition. I asked Amitabh Ghosh if he would write the > foreword for it. He agreed. I was overjoyed. > > Jerry Pinto contributed a story of Helen, the > legendary Bollywood dancer and a piece about his > own Burma connections. He also edited my manuscript > which was quite different from the first book and > sent it to Ravi Singh (of the Delhi-based Speaking > Tiger Books), who published the book. > > *New Songs of the Survivors* was launched at The Goa Arts and > Literary Festival in December 2015. I am still amazed and > thankful to the universe for making all this happen. > > My dream has been to write creative fiction and produce a > novel about unquenchable love and passion, with strong > characters that would be remembered forever. > > Mind, body and soul must come together to find the inner > music to write a great book. > > I may do it yet. > > -- > Although *New Songs of the Survivors* is a fine example of oral > history, Yvonne Vaz Ezdani also loves writing fiction because > she can make up stories about fictitious people and feel no > guilt. She has taught at the higher secondary in Goa (after > her return from Burma) and is known for her generosity as a > career counsellor to students here. Her email: [email protected]
