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| Author : | Topic: Meela - Part 1 | Bottom |
| CallofZion Posts : 50 "Troll Extraordinaire" |
Is there a Meela part two yet? I want more Meela! |
| meela moderator Posts : 58 |
Actually, it may qualify as the Meela back cover version. The guideline...the kick to get started. I am working on trying to get some of the stuff typed in. As soon as I can. | |||
| Twitching like a finger On the trigger of a gun Leaving nothing but the dead and dying ...Back in my little town Paul Simon |
| meela moderator Posts : 58 |
Here is a small excerpt from the book. Like I said, it is the second draft that I have been digging out of my notebook. Hope you like it. Meela means ‘to receive.’ Mama Bachan gave me that name. ”Sanoo puth mussin meela” he said as he held me the first time, honouring me by calling me a son. Eighteen years later he quietly scolded me. “Bethi, a daughter has to get married and lift the weight from their parent’s head.” The raw, naked truth was finally spoken. I was not a son. I was a daughter. An albatross. “Ki Meela?!” I laughed sarcastically with myself. My poor parents after loosing three fetuses in less than three years – one a male – must have stood tall, chin up and smiled. Yes, they had a son. Their daughter was like a son. For eighteen years they ignored what was not between my tiny, chubby legs. For the first few years of my life I didn’t see it myself. I didn’t even know “it” existed until three sisters later my brother lay in the stroller while my mother changed his diaper. I was horrified and asked my mom embarrassing questions. So, this was a boy. A mundha. And the swollen brown balls of flesh were what everyone was so excited about. Even my father, who was a good dad – worked hard and played games on Sunday with his girls – was clapping his hands above the carriage as my baby brother cried. “Hah! Tu Mera puth ha?” Then he put up his dukes and scowled, “If you are my son, then put one here – right on the chin!” More later.... --Last edited by meela on 2006-07-12 19:26:51 -- | |||
| Twitching like a finger On the trigger of a gun Leaving nothing but the dead and dying ...Back in my little town Paul Simon |
| CallofZion Posts : 50 "Troll Extraordinaire" |
I like it; I can feel her changing perceptions of herself and of her place in the family. There is a sort of transition here from a blissful ignorance that says "I am all that there is" to the realization of the possibility of others: a boy, someone alike and yet unlike Meela. What language is being spoken? Is it Sanskrit? Does the story take place in India? Also, what is the significance of the albatross? Is this a veiled reference to Coleridge's "Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner?" |
| meela moderator Posts : 58 |
Chapter 1 intersperses short sections told by Meela with sections introducing the other character Navi (whose story is told in the third person). Her name is Navjit, (pronounced Nav - jeet) which means, more or less, 'The New Victory.' This passage is her first appearance. Navi is a wonder child. Sweet, dreamy with an embracing gaze. Everything she looked upon was golden. When she was born everyone marveled at her spirit. She held a soft beauty that the world had not yet seen. Her eyes put a melody in the world that caused it to breathe a sigh of relief. Long enough to strike her lest the beauty caused the work to collapse into tears. And so came the pain inside her soon after her birth. It was like a monstrous eruption inside her that caused her little body to writhe. Angels stood and held her in their arms when her mother’s arms became over weary from bouncing and swaying to and fro trying to break the cycle of anguished cries. The day the angels told Navi that they were leaving she panicked and clung to them. But they were firm that she was to stay for now. And so Navi remembered that which most children forget as they get older. For a long time the solid world was a dream or a nightmare, and the soft, warm and fluid world was reality. Over time it became the other way around. And she was fascinated. But what fascinated her most was the wind. So invisible and gentle, a breeze could cause the limbs of a tree to undulate in a slow or erotic dance. Yes, so much beauty could be a dangerous thing in this world. In their hurry to leave the angels must have forgotten to place their finger on Navi’s lips to seal her soul’s knowing. Or did they? --Last edited by dmg on 2006-07-13 11:52:12 -- | |||
| Twitching like a finger On the trigger of a gun Leaving nothing but the dead and dying ...Back in my little town Paul Simon |
| meela moderator Posts : 58 |
Thanks Yoda. In some ways I feel like my first draft was so long and descrïptive - and the second one just shortens it all poetically. And the transition, as you say, takes place in a few paragraphs, rather than a whole chapter.
The language is Punjabi, as spoken by people of the Sikh faith, who live mainly in the state of Punjab. (They are ones who wear turbans and carry ceremonial swords.) The languages in India are so different, but there are words that are similar. The roots of the words could be from Sanskrit, or from Arabic, Hindi. I am still educating myself about all of that since I was born and raised in Canada. The novel takes place in an immigrant community in North American logging and mill town in the sixties and seventies, with flashbacks to India and stories of early immigrants.
The albatross is something that people say. I could have had the uncle say that she was a Phathurh, or a rock - a weight. The usage maybe suggests the cultural conflict inside the immigrant children. Thanks again for your feedback. --Last edited by meela on 2006-07-12 21:03:31 -- | ||||||
| Twitching like a finger On the trigger of a gun Leaving nothing but the dead and dying ...Back in my little town Paul Simon |
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