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| Saturday, February 19, 2000 |
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AS a writer of sorts I welcome book fairs; more frequent and in different cities, the better. They boost sales of books and add to authors’ meagre royalties. They are essentially publishers’ melas. Large crowds turn up to see the raunaq, look at books on display, browse through a few pages and put them back on the racks. The prices of books are too high for families which live on fixed salaries and do not have upar ki aamdani. Those who have unaccounted for cash, do not believe in wasting their black money on books. There are seminars on the problems of the trade. Though costs of production are a popular theme, very rarely are writers’ problems discussed. Their royalties usually vary between 7 per cent and 12 per cent. Not mentioned in their discussions is the increasing tendency among publishers to make authors pay for the cost of their books. New entrants in the writing profession are ever-eager to have their works published and give in to the extortionate demands of publishers just to see their names on book covers. These are known as vanity publications. Authors are out of pocket, publishers are in pocket, reviewers ignore them, distributors ignore them, shopkeepers do not stock them. Making authors pay for their books is unethical. A manuscript which is not acceptable in the commercial, competitive market should not see the light of day. |
| A more serious problem which concerns all
parties involved in the book business is piracy. As soon
as a book begins to be talked about as a possible
bestseller, these pirates print exact imitations of the
original and sell them at half the price. It is a
criminal offence punishable with fine and
imprisonment.Despite many complaints, so far the police
has not been able to bring any pirate to book. The author
gets nothing and publisher, distributor and honest
bookstore owners lose out to pirates. It is common
knowledge that a few of these thugs have printing presses
in the basements of shops in Nai Sarak in the most
congested part of the walled city of Delhi.As soon as
books are printed they are whisked away to some town in
Uttar Pradesh.From there bundles are taken to distant
cities to be sold to booksellers who have stalls on
pavements. Whereas an original in bookstore is priced at
around Rs 400, the pirated edition may be available on
the footpath outside his shop at around Rs 150. Only a
fool would go in for the original. The menace of piracy in the business should be the concern of authors, publishers, distributors and bookstores. The matter has not been taken up as seriously as it deserves to be.Senior police officers should be invited to seminars and asked to explain their difficulties in bringing pirates to court. I do not recommend imposing long terms of imprisonment on them but it would not be a bad idea if at every book fair a pirate was paraded handcuffed round the stalls before being flogged in public. Cocking a snook at society Some people have rebellion in their blood. Something compels them to swim against the tide and cock a snook at the society in which they live. One such character who I have never met is a young Pakistani who runs a picture gallery in Islamabad. His mother, who he refers to as Mata Hari, is a retired headmistress of a school. This young man went to Cambridge University but did not complete his studies but became active in the gay movement.He was expelled. He took up a job in a factory but was fired for being an active homosexual. Back in Pakistan he took to writing explicitly candid homosexual poetry.He also got down to translating Ghalib into English.I don’t know what made him change his name from a Muslim one to a recognisably Hindu or Sikh name: Pritam Giani. He has been to gaol more than once. I am not sure if Pritam will ever find a publisher for his poems in any country. But I laud his courage for breathing freely in the stifling atmosphere of a mullah-ridden military regime. I reproduce below the dedication of his collection of poems, believe it or not, to goddess Saraswati: Goddess of art and
music, help me to create Loving animals My neighbours Bhim and Rita Verma are passionate dog lovers. They do not care for fancy pedigreed breeds but stray dogs, often lame or one-eyed. Some months ago Rita picked up a small, hairy puppy, full of mange, abandoned in the market, shivering in the cold and terrified of everyone. She took it home, nursed it to health. It became her favourite. Like an orphaned child, it clung to Rita and would not rest until it was in her mistress’s lap. Wherever Rita went, it followed her like a shadow. Rita decided to name her Poonch (tail). Whenever Rita dropped in to see me, Poonch followed and whimpered till she was picked up and cuddled in her lap. My attempts to befriend Poonch were of no avail. When Rita was away in Assam, building new clinics for TB and HIV patients, Poonch attached herself to Bhim. It wasn’t the same degree of affection that the little dog showed to its human father as it did to its human mother. One afternoon when Rita was away to Guwahati, Poonch walked into my room and hid herself under a table. I expected Bhim to follow. He did not. Poonch had just run away from home looking for her mother. She refused to come to me. But Uma Nair who has two Dalmatians in her home, was sitting with me. She simply picked up Poonch and put her in her lap. Poonch responded to the gesture and relaxed in Uma’s lap. When Bhim’s servant came to fetch her, she growled at him and refused to go with him. But when Bhim came to fetch her, she gladly went along with him. It got me thinking of other human — animal relationships. The closest are between humans and apes like gorillas, chimpanzees, orangutans and rhesus monkeys. They are; after all, our first cousins. Once befriended, they respond almost as humans: embracing, cuddling, kissing. Next to apes come canines (dogs). Stories of dogs’ faithfulness to their masters are legendary. Our own classic story is of one of the Pandava brothers who refused to enter paradise unless he was allowed to take his pet dog with him. Dogs respond to their names. To the best of my knowledge no other animal does. To establish a close relationship with a dog you not only have to feed it and exercise it — getting servants to take it out is not good enough. Above all, you must talk to it. The next favourite pet for humans are cats. They do not return human affection in the same way as dogs. They are self-centred and selfish. They don’t answer to their names. Almost all animals except, perhaps, reptiles get emotionally involved with their human masters. Squirrels, birds like parrots, quails and partridges forge bonds of friendship with their owners. So do most other animals like camels, horses, cows, goats and donkeys. If a human being shows affection towards an animal, the animal will return the affection in full measure. On the other hand, if a human has an aversion towards animals, they can sense it and keep their distance from him or her. My reaction to animal haters is blunt: I ask them "What kind of animal are you?" From Kolkatta What do you call an enlightened Bengali? Jyoti Basu. What do you call a talkative Bangali? Bolbol Chatterjee. What do you call an outlawed Bengali? Bonduk Bannerjee. What do you call a dark Bengali in a dark cave? Kalidas Guha (Contributed by Amir Tuteja, Washington) |
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