Jessica Day George – Why She’s the Queen of Every Genre

Posted on by The Zoya Project

So around 8 years ago I travelled to the west coast of the United States of America with my mother. And it was there that I discovered the beautiful entity that is Barnes and Nobles. It was the most beautiful thing I had seen. Rows upon rows of books and a seating area where we could just read those books. We didn’t have anything like this in Delhi and I was instantly smitten. So I walked over to the kids section being just 10 years old and I picked up a number of volumes. The Spiderwick Chronicles by Holly Black and I discovered a series called Dragon Slippers by Jessica Day George. And I’ll be honest it was the cover that drew me to it. It’s a stunning cover.

I mean look at this it’s a beauty

And once I picked up the book it was over in hours. Jessica Day George may write for middle schoolers but her books are so fantastic that even now I love picking them up and reading them. The stories are just brilliant. She covers fantasy and fairytale retellings and historical fiction and even picks up myths to spin her own way. And she does a fantastic job at it. So I thought I’d run down a list of the series I love from her as quick reviews…

The Dragon Slippers Series : Poor Creel. She can’t believe her aunt wants to sacrifice her to the local dragon. It’s a ploy to lure a heroic knight so that he will fight the dragon, marry Creel out of chivalrous obligation, and lift the entire family out of poverty. Creel isn’t worried. After all, nobody has seen a dragon in centuries. But when the beast actually appears, Creel not only bargains with him for her life, she also ends up with a rare bit of treasure from his hoard, not gold or jewels, but a pair of simple blue slippers-or so she thinks. It’s not until later that Creel learns a shocking truth: She possesses not just any pair of shoes, but ones that could be used to save her kingdom, which is on the verge of war, or destroy it. (Goodreads)

Once I read the first book, it was my dream to become a dressmaker and embroider like Creel does. Then I realized you also have to have some semblance of artistic skill to do that, and that dream remained a delusional fantasy. But I adored this series. It follows young Creel who is left by her aunt to the local dragon so the rich town swain might rescue her and marry her and save her family from being poor. But Creel bargains with the dragon and manages to get some very comfortable slippers and then promptly makes her way to the Kings Seat to become a seamstress and along the way meets the King of Dragons Shardas. Jessica has done some fantastic world-building. Every setting was well thought out, I could basically envision the cities and forests in animation like the characters could pop off the page and begin singing and dancing and I would believe it. That’s how immersive the story is. I loved how different it was to see how dragons are portrayed in this and how the entire story comes together. The other two books are equally good, each a perfect blend of adventure and magic and lots and lots of dragons with a sprinkling of romance. Everyone can see Luka and Creel’s chemistry and I was always on the edge of my seat when they had a scene together. This series is the reason I can see gowns and clothes when I read, I can build them in my head, it’s the reason I want a collection of stained glass and stained glass windows. Basically – read this whether you’re nine or nineteen.

The Princesses of Westfallin Trilogy

A tale of twelve princesses doomed to dance until dawn…
Galen is a young soldier returning from war; Rose is one of twelve princesses condemned to dance each night for the King Under Stone. Together Galen and Rose will search for a way to break the curse that forces the princesses to dance at the midnight balls. All they need is one invisibility cloak, a black wool chain knit with enchanted silver needles, and that most critical ingredient of all—true love—to conquer their foes in the dark halls below. But malevolent forces are working against them above ground as well, and as cruel as the King Under Stone has seemed, his wrath is mere irritation compared to the evil that awaits Galen and Rose in the brighter world above.

So I love fairytale retellings and I think this is probably the first one I read. So I have Jessica Day George to thank for this love of retellings. These are the cream of the cream. She starts with 12 Dancing Princesses featuring Rose and Galen, then she reinvents Cinderella with Poppy in Princess of Glass and finally follows Petunia as a new version of Red Riding Hood in Princess of the Silver Woods. Also what is it with Jessica getting such beautiful covers for all her book. It’s totally not fair. I think starting with retelling 12 Dancing Princesses is so ambitious because you’re working with way more than one or two important characters, you start out with 12 primary characters and then you have to add secondary protagonists, romantic interests and villains. It’s a hell of a task. And she does it justice. It’s written beautifully, and like in Dragon Slippers how Jessica creates such an interest in embroidery and stained glass, here she manages to do it with dancing. God I want to learn how to waltz. I love these 12 sisters, they’re written so well. She’s given each of them their own personality and built up the world both where they dance and the Kingdom of Westfallin beautifully. Out of the three I’m partial to Princess of Glass because Poppy was my favourite sister and the romance was adorable. I read this even now, because the romance reads like young adult novels because the girls are around 16-21 in the books, but it’s clean enough for middle schoolers. Read! Read! Read!

Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow: “Blessed” or “cursed” with an ability to understand animals, the Lass (as she’s known to her family) has always been an oddball. And when an isbjorn (polar bear) seeks her out, and promises that her family will become rich if only the Lass will accompany him to his castle, she doesn’t hesitate. But the bear is not what he seems, nor is his castle, which is made of ice and inhabited by a silent staff of servants. Only a grueling journey on the backs of the four winds will reveal the truth: the bear is really a prince who’s been enchanted by a troll queen, and the Lass must come up with a way to free him before he’s forced to marry a troll princess. (Goodreads)

I love mythology. I have since I was 8 and my sister handed me her first copy of Percy Jackson. It fell into my open hands, without a dust jacket, the red cover making its home in my life forever. But ever since then when I find mythology I read it immediately. Greek, Indian, Egyptian, Chinese any mythology that exists I’ve probably read it. But this was my first foray into Norwegian mythology and I think I’ve found my new love. This book is fantastic. Since I’m not aware of the original myth, this has become my vision of what Norwegian stories and fables are. There are all kinds of magical creatures, and while I don’t usually appreciate the stockholm syndrome thing, I really liked the romance in this one. The writing even reads like an old story passed down from ages. The snowy setting, ice castles, weird fairytale like creatures and romance and even a heist appeal, makes this a go to read for me. It’s astounding to me that Jessica is able to attack all genres with such skill. She is in every way a story teller.

I am just about to pick up her first foray into historical fiction ‘Silver In the Blood’ and I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a stellar ride. I can’t wait to have another five star read in my cap this year!

1947

Posted on by The Zoya Project

As Editor of Vasant Valley Today, my school newspaper, I planned a special supplement for the 70th anniversary of Independence. I had a series of prose written crossing through time in 1947, 2017 and 2047 discussing a variety of issues, problems and progress through the century. I picked nationalism and communalism out of the hat. I have attached the link to the archives of the paper below so you might peruse the two accompanying pieces…

The rickety train khat khataoed in a steady rhythm as it left the cultural gem of Lahore now engulfed in flames and set out towards the hallowed town of Amritsar. I sat looking out of the window, staring at my hometown fade away into the distance, in a cloud of dust and smoke, large decrepit vessel rushing to a new destination. The future seemed bleak, and I was afraid of what I would find in Amritsar, other than fire, screams and blood.

Clutching my daughter, her eyes closed in a peaceful sleep, closer to my chest, I turned towards the dusty window. They had killed my husband. Not that he wasn’t to blame – partaking in this sheer madness. Going out with the mob to burn and kill other people. I had begged him. I had begged him not to leave me, not to leave his daughter, not to go out into the night where flames leapt higher than the stars and the face of God blacked out completely.

“Please. This is dangerous, you know it is.”
“They are throwing us out of our nation, and you ask me not to fight? I thought the woman I married was brave.”
“I’m brave, not a doormat. You knew that when you agreed to marry me. What you are going out to do isn’t brave.”
“How would you know? You sit here nursing her all day, while they kill our people.”
“We are all the same people, you blind, ignorant man. Who are you going out to kill? They look the same, they do the same work, we live together in this nation. It is being torn asunder because of your stupidity.
“I fight for this nation. If I do not fight them, then who will? I fight for my country.” “You fight your own countrymen. You fight the people who till the fields alongside us. Your notion of nationality is skewed, don’t you see it!”

I winced remembering the door slam. They dropped his body back on my doorstep so marred with knife marks and burnt black that I didn’t even recognize him at first sight. Who killed him? I could not say. Did they wear skull caps or saffron? I could not say. Perhaps one of our own slaughtered him without even realizing it. He left me widowed at the age of 25, he left my daughter fatherless and he left the nation for the skies above, where he could defend himself against the way he killed those of his own nation. The train khat khataoed on.

“They are dividing the nation on religious lines.”
“Where will we go?”
“Go? This is our hometown, where you and I were born, where our blood was born. We will stay here and fight if we must.” “Who are we fighting? Firang?”
“The firang have left. We fight those who believe in another God and see it fit to throw us out of our city on his grounds.” “We fight our countrymen? Is that what you are proposing?” “I’ll fight any man who opposes my faith. Any man who opposes my nation.”

I asked God then, rubbing my prayer beads in nervous circles, when did nationality become equivalent to faith, knowledgeable one? Which holy book stated that those who follow another may not live together in harmony and love the soil they grow subsistence on and the people who harvest the crop? And yet that night he sent the mobs. He sent them from both religions, each carrying pitchforks and torches and dangerously large knifes. They smeared the streets of Lahore, upon which Fakirs had once travelled singing praise of the historic city of splendour, with crismosn blood. The scent of the air metallic, a shroud hung over the city and when I peeked my head out through the window, I could not see for who this shroud had been sowed and by whose hands. Hindu? Muslim? I settled for an easier answer. Human. The train khat khataoed on.

“There is nothing left for you her beti. It is best you take our poti to Amritsar and move southward from there.”
“Ma, how can I leave you and Pitamaha here. Your son didn’t want me to leave Lahore.”
“Do not disrespect him beti, he was your husband not just my son, we cannot leave. We will honor his foolhardy wishes. Go, I will send for a train ticket.”
“But it is not safe for you here.”
“Honor his life by leaving beti. Honor it by living for your daughter.”
“How shall I know what happened to you once I arrive at Amritsar?”
“Let the violence die down. Then we will see.”
“Khudahfiz Ma.”
“Be careful, don’t let the men do to you what they have done to other women.”

Raped. She had meant raped. I sat in a bogey surrounded by people who were scared of one another. Women of being raped and left to die. Men worried to say their names to another in case it preached a different religion scared to be persecuted by the men of their own country, men who vowed to the firangs that they were from the same mother. The entire carriage seemed to tremble with fear. It was almost physical. And then with another quake, I realized with horror, holding onto my daughter tightly that the khat khataoing train was being mobbed. It seemed to burst open at the seams, the metal torn apart by fire. My cotton sari whipped around me as screams tore through the air and blood splattered my face and white mourning clothes. The rush of people suffocated me as I rushed to the nearest opening. Jumping with the rest of the lucky ones onto the hard ground, the already patchy grass charred in many areas. Stumbling to my feet I ran, noticing that I had barely missed the track. Ran away from the burning train, flames engulfing the vessel as the star disappeared once more in a haze of blinding smoke.

“Musalmaan!”
“Hindus!”
“Which one attacks us?”

Still running holding my screaming child against my breast, I muttered under my breath, “Indians.” I turned around looking over my shoulder at the half open torn apart vessel, that burnt the skies and grounds creating partitioning lines, that had never seemed a reality. And yet the slaughterhouse of a train, dying, slowly, khat khataoed on.

Click here to go through the August 2017 Issue of Vasant Valley Today 

 

Sailboats

Posted on by The Zoya Project

I christened my sailboat
With a bottle of red wine,
That tasted like cracked glass
And something more intangible.
Perhaps,
The tartness of
Over ripe grapes
On a vineyard in Italy,
In a golden October,
That grew out of
My china cup.
I set sail my paper boat
And let it traipse lazily in my teacup
As it swum circles
Around my eyes and in my head
Before bobbing up and down
In the very centre
Like curdled milk
That sat sour and unbecoming.
I watched and watched as seasons ran by,
And as monsoons cried
Leaving puddles for sailboats to swim in,
I drank my sorrows away,
In a teacup
Made of winter sun and forged in alcoholism –
A mixture
Of alcohol, rainwater, Earl Grey
And soggy paper.

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featured artwork by Palak Kumar

Caraval – A Review

Posted on by The Zoya Project

I have been hearing so much about this book it’s crazy. It was all over my Instagram and all over my Goodreads and so about a month ago I was in New York and had a free day so I decided to buy it and go to town. I now know why this book is everywhere. It is a fantastic read.

I have a sister and she’s basically my whole world so just the entire premise of the book for me was very close to home. It was heart-warming and aside from that there’s magic and romance, adventure, mystery, you name it this book has it. Stephanie Garber has now become one of my favourite authors and an instant buy. She could write poems on toilet paper and I’d probably buy it.

Caraval came out just a couple of months ago and while it introduces us to two sisters Scarlett and Donatella, Caraval focuses on Scarlett’s story. Both have an opportunity to escape the drab island of Trisda which they call their home and alongside it their abusive father to go and play the magnificent Caraval a show and game of sorts held by the enigmatic Game Master Legend. Scarlett finally manages to win tickets right before her wedding after years of begging Master Legend to invite her, but refuses to go because of her wedding. And so Tella does what all good sisters do and uses the charming sailor Julian to drug her sister and take her to Caraval. And that is where the story begins.

I think one of the best things about this book is the writing. Descriptive writing is a talent such few people possess and I am so insanely jealous of how much talent Stephanie has. The writing is exquisite. I can build the roads of Caraval through my entire mind from the gowns and the fragrances to the colors all over the Isle to the tattooed body of Nigel. It’s brilliant. The writing is just a breath of fresh air and for the first time in many books I finally felt completely immersed in the world.

World-building was spot on. I want to live on Isla de los Sueños forever and not just as a player of the game. I want to be a performer. I would kill for Nigel’s job. Like forget law and publishing and travelling and writing. I want to be a performer in Caraval. It’s such a fantastic world. The magic brims from every corner and cobblestone and I want a sip. Every character that she introduced, was fleshed out and had a purpose small as it might be. It was fabulous. The entire magic system, the game, the purpose behind each character, even the clothes and every stitch was thought out to perfection.

I was hoping that the story would follow Tella, because I found Scarlett’s character to be a bit of a prude, but I enjoyed reading about Scarlett. I loved the romance and so I liked the entire story following Scarlett well enough. I liked her personal growth as she goes from quiet, reserved and cowed to empowered and independent. And above all I loved how much she loved her sister. A lot of YA books these days delve into this ‘sisters killing sisters’ trope and those are so unrealistic and just not my taste at all. So I adored the relationship and love Scarlett has for Tella and Tella’s faith in her.

I wanted to smack Julian a bit, but he was a rakish love interest who I ended up quite liking. This was a five star read for me. I found the ending a bit ambiguous so I am hoping that there’s a scope for a sequel. One that follows Tella hopefully! This was a five star read for me.

UPDATE: THERE’S A SEQUEL A SEQUEL A SEQUEL! AND IT’S BASED ON TELLLLLLAAAAAAAAAA!

she.

Posted on by The Zoya Project

She is the folkloric woman,
Passed down from generation to generation.
Body draped in a traditional kanjivaram sari
Or perhaps those so finely woven
In holy Banaras
she is invoked as a Goddess
Devi.
Reigning from the time
That Sita rose from the earth
And Draupadi from the flames.
‘Staining’,
The name of their husbands
The words of the holy books –
Recited
In hushed whispers
Of snakes and stains and women
As one.
She, who holds God in womb
Isn’t allowed to enter the temple
When human life –
Yet to be perfected
Is let go,
In tidal waves of agony.
And when
God’s cries resonate
With those of a newborn child
The stone statues
With flowers incense and prayers
Littered at their feet,
Remain silent.
She bleeds a red river
The colour of her life every month
And yet
When with silent approval
The vermillion in her parting
and the tilak on a man’s forehead
Is accepted
The red that flows and stains
From in between legs
Is silenced.
Porcelain dolls turned Barbies
And the silences turned to those
Of unwanted hands – exploring the geography of her body.
Syllables unspoken in shame.
The silent conversations that giggled
With hypocrisy
Are transient
And as she bleeds
Or when she is raped
It is the screams
In between her legs
On the hospital bed
And the sound of heels
As she walks over
Those who condemned her
The folkloric woman
The goddess
To a silence
Transient
And now broken.

Featured artwork by SSH

The Crown’s Game – A Review

Posted on by The Zoya Project

This book is phenomenal. From the first page to the very last word, it is absolutely magnificent. My mother compiled Russian Fairytales for me when I was five and she used to read them with me helping me out with the big words. Reading this book feels like reliving those in a far more immersive way.

Before you read, I’ve included some mood music for anyone reading this review. You can play it here.

This novel tells the story of two enchanters Vika Andreyeva and Nikolai Karimov. The names themselves drip with decadence as does the story, filled with lush descriptions of a magical St. Petersburg in the time of the early Romanovs. Vika and Nikolai must fight a fight to the death for the position of imperial enchanter.

So this was my first foray into the magical romance competition genre and I have to say I do quite love it. It felt very much like a moth drawn to a flame situation and there’s really no better way to describe this book. Nikolai and Vika’s chemistry is so soft, more like candle light than explosive sparkling chemistry. This sort of romance was actually so lovely for the book because the Russian elements are so vivid and yet so delicate. It reminds me of the fabergé eggs that are so delicate and intricate and yet so sinfully beautiful. it was a good mix of themes in the writing and the romance woven in added to it. Even all the enchantments add to the entire air of romance and delicate luxuriousness. I felt like biting into a cake with tons of frosting and finding it to be airy and moist.

“He was a poisonous autumn crocus: deadly beautiful with no antidote. She wanted the flower anyway.”

~ Evelyn Skye

The world-building was marvellous. It’s so hard to rebuild a place in this world. When you create your own you are the master, you make the rules, the laws. But when you work within realism and history there are boundaries that can’t be removed. And even with those restrictions, Evelyn has done a wonderful job. She has captured the essence of the city of St. Petersburg so brilliantly that I could envision what events from the book had happened where. I could see the air of magic she described, wafting in the breeze and through the city. She has recreated Russia with enchantments and sorcery, intertwining history with her imagination. The system of magic she has established in this novel has a subtle, complex nature to it. The locations aside from St. Petersburg were so lovely. Some of them didn’t exist while others did. I want Bolshebnoie Duplo to exist so badly there’s a constant ache in my heart.

The way magic was written was so well thought out. A complex system and yet it had rules, it wasn’t written to Evelyn’s convenience. And what beautiful enchantments. From the ballet doll to the Canal of Colors and the dress boxes. To live in such a world! I would eat cake instead of bread if only I could.

The characters were all charming and well fleshed out. Nikolai was my favourite and yet I abhorred Pasha. He was like a gnat amidst a sparkling romance who I wished to swat away. I wish Yuliana could be Tzarina and we could eradicate Pasha’s character completely, but then there wouldn’t exactly be a catalyst for the story. Even the side characters played important roles.

I can’t wait to pick up the next book! The Crowns Fate came out last month and I’ve just ordered it to continue the series!

A Torch Against The Night – A Review

Posted on by The Zoya Project

Okay so it wasn’t a cliffhanger but I think I’m dead. Because the next book isn’t out for ANOTHER YEAR. I don’t know how I will survive. Sabaa Tahir is inflicting such sweet torture on me.

This review contains spoilers for An Ember In The Ashes. Proceed at your own risk.

So the book picks up exactly where the last one left out, but there’s now a change in dynamics between the characters. Helene who was previously Elias’s best friend is now his greatest enemy. Playing Blood Shrike to Emperor Marcus Farrar who seems to be plagued by some mental delusion or the other, this is the book that really delves into Helene’s character. And in a surprising turn of events, she has become the best character in the book. Her point of view was a refreshing addition to the story. I am astounded at her strength of character. She isn’t an obedient goody-two-shoes character but such a complex character, with her flaws and yet she remains likable. Her fortitude and her trajectory of growth were absolutely brilliant additions to the story.

Helene holds up the Empire under the rule of a tyrannical Emperor, while trying to protect her family and keep Elias safe. Meanwhile, Elias and Laia embark on a dangerous journey to Kauf prison to try and break out Laia’s brother.

I found Elias and Laia’s parts of the story interesting enough. The journey through the kingdom to the prison was essentially a stage on which both of them grew to know each other better, truly allowing the romance between them to blossom. I really deeply disliked to love triangle that came up. I felt like Laia was pulled between whoever was in close quarters to her. When Elias was present it was him, and when he wasn’t Keenan felt easy so she leaned on him. Made me like her a bit less.

I did not see the plot twist coming at all. Where the first book really brought the political aspects and the gladiator aspect to life, this book really ramped up the magical elements. The way the Nightbringer sort of became a greater force in this book was actually quite chilling.

One of my favourite parts of this book was the interlude at Kauf prison. I loved how psychopathic the Warden was and his interactions with Laia. The revelations that come across at this point in the novel were like a bomb after bomb exploding in my mind.

“And they speak of the girl you travel with: Laia of Serra. And—and the Artist . . . sometimes in his nightmares, he speaks too.”
“What does he say?”
“Her name,” Tas whispers. “Laia. He cries out her name—and he tells her to run.”

This singular moment actually had me putting the book down.

But despite all the twists and turns here, I found Helene to be the true hero of the story (as one can tell from my inability to shut up about her). And what I found even more interesting was her second, Avitas Harper who was her torturer at the beginning of the book and by the end something completely different. I honestly found Laia and Elias secondary to Helene. And her interactions with Harper so filled with wit and snide and the slow build-up of trust between them was exquisite.

We go from

‘”This”—I speak over him, lest he say something that Harper can report back to the Emperor and the Commandant—“is Lieutenant Avitas Harper. My torturer and the Commandant’s spy.” Immediately, Faris clamps his mouth shut. “Harper is also assigned to this mission, so beware of what you say around him, as it will all be reported back to the Commandant and Emperor.” Harper shifts uncomfortably, and a bolt of triumph shoots through me.’

To

“Urgent message for you, Shrike.” His sallow cheeks tell me he hasn’t slept. I don’t like that he stayed awake until I returned. ”

Just a phenomenal buildup to what’s going to come between them. Can you imagine the angst Harper will go through if this love story comes to fruition? At having tortured her and spied on her only to fall in love with her. I am internally manifesting the immense possibilities from this happening…

Basically, this was a phenomenal book and I think I might die waiting for the next.

Five stars. As if Sabaa could write anything less!

 

An Ember In The Ashes – A Review

Posted on by The Zoya Project

I don’t know why I was putting this off for so long. Because I think this has become my official favourite book. It’s right up there with Harry Potter and Percy Jackson which is an extremely hard task to accomplish. Sabaa Tahir is a magician and I would sell my soul to have known this series was unfinished because now the anticipation of the third book is KILLING ME.

An Ember In The Ashes is one of the most brilliant fantasy books I’ve ever read. Told in a world that mimics Ancient Rome and has a world where different communities have been brutally colonized by the Martial Empire I saw Tahir infuse the shared history of Indians and Pakistanis in her work. This is such an important commentary on the way colonies were treated and the savagery of the process.

Following young Laia who belongs to Serra a colony of the Empire and Elias a Mask, the most brutally trained soldier, of the Empire the book is told from a dual point of view. We get to experience this brutal world from both Laia’s perspective and Elias’s perspective. When Laia’s home is attacked, her brother is arrested she is forced to run. Trying to find help, she runs into the Scholar Resistance who strikes a deal with her. They will help free her brother from prison if she spies on the most feared, most brutal woman in the Empire for them. Keris Veturius, the Commandant of BlackCliff Military school where the masks are trained. Filled with espionage, political strife AND magic. This book has everything.

This story is a whirlwind. I loved seeing the vulnerability in both characters. Laia who is learning to be strong in an environment she never prepared for is contrasted against Elias who hates having to be brutal in the environment he was raised in. The characters Tahir has created are so complex and have so much depth, reading what they go through is enough to rip one to pieces. A testament to her ability as a storyteller. She keeps you invested in the outcome of each character because the reality of what she writes and the brutal truth of it makes you unsure of whether in the end these characters are going to make it.

I like how the side characters were tackled as well. I didn’t really like Helene too much in this book, but I haven’t written her off because I feel that there’s a lot of depth in her character that Tahir has yet to uncover in the coming books. Marcus made me viscerally hate him. The Cook, Dex, Faris, the augur Cain and Spiro, each character was fleshed out and well-developed and I enjoyed how much emotion Tahir was able to evoke in me for these characters.

The premise of the book is absolutely riveting. From the four trials to the spying each detail ties together brilliantly. I thought the plot twist at the end of the book was mind-blowing and I’m so glad that I do have the second book ready and waiting for me because if I had to wait book by book I would have been depressed for days after.

I love love love that the romance was explored secondary here. It really let me explore Laia and Elias as characters on their own and track their individual growth. I like that we understand them separately before pairing them together because that gave me a new understanding of their romance and how beautifully they fit together.

Basically, I think I love Sabaa Tahir and want to live in her mind while she writes Book 3.

Baaz – A Review

Posted on by The Zoya Project

That annoying noise you hear? It’s me lording this book over everyone else because I GOT AN ARC!!! Thank you to one of my favorite favorite favorite authors for sending me this Advanced Copy!

Baaz written by Anuja Chauhan (the greatest Indian author, in my opinion) was the story of Ishaan and Tehmina set in 1970’s wartime India and it has been the highlight of my year so far. Class 12 is a horrible horrible time for anyone and so this truly saved my summer as exams and college applications begin to loom overhead like a terrifying guillotine.

This book as usual doesn’t fail to disappoint. One of the best things about an Anuja Chahuan book is that despite it being a romance (toe-curling and squeal-inducingly adorable romance at that) there is a story aside from the couple. There is a purpose behind each characters besides love and romance and that is what sets her aside. The romance is fantastic but aside from that, her books always have a bigger plot and a story to tell. With The Zoya Factor I learnt about cricket and a love for my own mass of wriggly curls, with Battle I learnt about political campaigning in India better than any CBSE education and now with Baaz I learn the conflict that wartime brings to soldiers and pacifists and a whole lot about the Indian Army. Every book is a story as well as a romance. Chetan Bhagat might want to take some tips from Ms. Chauhan…

In my opinion Baaz is the best book Anuja Chauhan has written, in terms of language, thus far. The writing is artful and deliciously Indian and I felt myself getting steeped in the 70’s as I read through the story. From the Air Force Training Grounds to the scene on the Howrah Express and of course the glamorous incidents at Calcutta’s Sarhind Club. Every thing was researched to the tee and I got to build up each location in my mind in colorful detail, from Chakkahera to the towns in East Pakistan where Shaanu crash lands. The story flows so effortlessly despite jumping through years in time where Shaanu and Tehmina meet again and again before they are inevitably intertwined in each other’s life.

I think I especially liked the conflict introduced regarding the complexities of the victors of war. In a book where Army Officers, those who risk their lives everyday and are put to the test ever so often in a war stricken world, it is so refreshing to see a debate regarding the fact that there is no true victor of war. Everyone loses something, whether they are fighting or simply caught in the fire between politics and the men they dictate to march to the frontline. It’s a poignant point, subtly made and yet doesn’t get caught up and lost with everything else that is happening in the story.

I adored the characters. Tehmina flaunting her views and her sexual appeal to get by in life without being ashamed of both things. She was a breath of fresh air. I loved the trio of army officers we get to encounter in the novel. Shaanu is my favorite of course, I loved that he was kind, it’s so different in a romance book these days (mostly you find toxic players who the girl is setting out to change). I loved that any changes Tehmina tried to make with Shaanu were only regarding his views on the brutality of war. Maddy and Raka introduced the right amount of humour. Kainaaz and Ardisher and Chinman and loud lascivious Harry Rose, were all fantastic additions to flesh out the book and make the world we were viewing holistic and three dimensional.

The romance was as always fantastic, perfect chemistry, but what’s new in an Anuja Chauhan novel? I would squeal and giggle and would be heartbroken, but in the end I can say this will probably be a book I turn to every year, as I do with the rest of her books. This is a five star read and I urge anyone and everyone who likes the written word to go out and buy a copy right this second!

Apartheid Again – An Interview with Sehba Imam

Posted on by The Zoya Project

The subcontinent is a myriad of colors and faith. We are told to accept those people who have different skin colors, who believe in different Gods, who have different castes, who choose to love boys or girls irrespective of their own gender or decide to choose their own gender. This is the India we look for in the narrow streets and the market places. This is the India we look to build.

And with this outlook, we see a mob of 600-700 people beating a group of five Nigerian college boys with steel dustbins, chairs and sticks in Noida. The reason is simply that the mob presumed these young boys allegedly dealt drugs to a class 12 boy, Manish Khari, who lived in their community, which led to his death. The police later confirmed that there was no evidence against the boys. So why then did the mob choose to attack the students during their candlelit march?

Precious Amalcima, a victim to this brutal act says that he has been hit by a motorcycle and called a number of names while has lived in India, including hapshi, Bandar, black money, etc.

The people of the community believe the Nigerians to be drug dealers. They have no concrete proof, other than that of a slightly darker color that tints the flesh of these boys. And while this in itself is an imperative fact, it would also be essential to understand that the deceased Manish Khari had bought the drugs of his own accord and will, irrespective of whether a Nigerian sold it to him or a fairer Indian chaprasi standing at the gate of his colony. His death was brought about by his choices and his overdose

This entire episode within our nation narrates the clear racial discrimination these boys face. ‘If things get out of hand, I will leave – and never come back.’ says one. This is the impression foreign students in our country have of us. The way that we as Indians have treated these students is nothing less that apartheid. We have judged them to be criminals because of the color of their skin, their accents, the difference between the way they look and the neighboring woman who wears a sari and a bindi, speaks perfect hindi looks. For she could never have sold drugs. Why? Because she is fairer, she is Indian, she speaks the languages of the masses. The conclusions we have drawn and the assumption we have made about these students based on their nationality and race is simply put – unfair.

And as Indians, we of all people, should know how it feels to be treated like dirt in a foreign country. We are told we are nothing but immigrants, out to steal job opportunities of the Americans and the Europeans. We are told we are unwanted, and yet in a nation where diversity flowers in every nook and corner, we treat our foreigners the same.

On the other end are those solicitously tolerant. They look at building a diverse India, and though they are hampered by these acts of brutal racism, they stand strong in their aim to prevail and create a safer environment. A recent initiative of Ms. Sehba Imam a notable activist – Come Out To Show We Care, shows us that while India has a long way to go, there are people picking up the slack to make a difference. Ms. Imam works for a variety of causes especially those relating to women’s issues. The event she organized is based on learning how to battle this kind of blatant discrimination as well as how to take steps to cement the tinier cracks in the bridge that we try to build towards tolerance.

There is hope still. As India regresses into these corners of darkness, there are still people willing to drag her back forward into the sunlight that discerns between no one and falls on skin, no matter what the color. We wonder now will we let Apartheid flourish again, or will we try our best to stamp it out and work towards that elusive ‘unity in diversity’ for our nation?

Attached below is the interview I had a chance to conduct with Ms. Sehba Imam

Q. Mahatma Gandhi’s ideologies of non-violence and equality are what led to the independence of our country, yet such discriminative views remain. What do you think could be the reason for the birth of such outlooks in urban parts of modern day India?

SI: Discrimination is not a recent phenomenon. It has its roots in slavery, colonialism, feudalism and cast divisions. But what we need to remember is that every time people have risen above their own biases, great things have been achieved. When Gandhi united India as one and made us rise above cast and class inequalities – we became a force to reckon with. We overthrew a mighty colonial power and became an independent nation. Unfortunately, as the distance from that time grows, we seem to get farther and farther away from the lessons of equality and non-violence that Gandhi had empowered us with. As far as racial violence is concerned, I suspect we still carry the scars from our colonial past in our psyche in the way we obsess about fair skin. This obsession with ‘fair’ skin, makes us hugely susceptible to discrimination against people with darker skin from within India and outside. We believe in the most bizarre rumors about their lifestyles and see them as the ‘other.’ With no interaction to challenge these false beliefs, fear and hate keeps accumulating and erupts in violence from time to time.

Q. Violence such as this is bound to not only frighten Africans, but impartial people in the locality as well, and many of these people may want to speak up on behalf of those who were done this great injustice, but are too afraid to do so. What advice would you give to those who want to help but do not know how?

SI: Build bridges, talk, reach out, make an effort to communicate… There are two ways ito tackle discrimination and violence. One is at the policy level – through clear laws and punitive measures against discrimination. But if we are looking at sustainable change – each one of us needs to play a part in it. We must question our own actions and beliefs – do we have friends from different strata of society, different communities, races etc – if not, why not? Have me made an effort to reach out and make friends with people who seem to be different from us – this could include differently abled people, differences in skin colour, differences in religion, cast and class. The more we explore our ability to find empathy with people who we consider different from ourselves – the more we learn that people are same no matter where they come from or what their place in society is. Empathy is the best antidote for discrimination and empathy comes from building relationships. It is awkward to say hello to a complete stranger at first, but if it helps build a better society – awkwardness is a small price to pay, Isn’t it?

Q. Violent methods of resolving disputes such as this lead to more and more conflict. Can you suggest a peaceful and practical method of solving an argument like this? 
The civilized way to resolve conflict is through discussion and mediation. For serious conflicts and crimes we have law enforcing agencies – go to the police, file an FIR, pressurise them to take action, escalate the issue through civilized means if you are not heard… Mob violence cannot be justified whatever the excuse. In the recent case the violence was a result of suspicion and baseless rumors of cannibalism… I think ascertaining fats will go a long way in containing violence. The world is intricately connected these days. News of violence against foreigners travels around the globe and is perceived in ways that we have no control over. Such incidents can paint us as a rogue nation in international forums. If we want India to be seen as a modern evolved nation, we must find peaceful and healthy ways of resolving conflicts.

The event and interview in question took place on March 27th 2017