Early one morning the sun was shining and I was lying in bed, pining the passing of lost souls, abandoned dreams, torn pages and love’s mortality.It was the hottest British summer on record and the air was warm from printer’s ink and a burning need to publish something unique.My love affair with India and Pakistan had bloomed for many years. Too many to count.Then along came Minnie…I had known this lost soul for what seemed like a lifetime, through her writings on social media and our shared excursion with depression and happy memories of Brighton… she was a friend.And her writing sang.Minnie was born in Kabul in Afghanistan, but as a small child became a refugee with her parents, first to India and later to the UK.My mind drifted… I thought of sweet Anjali in New Delhi and Jasleen in Pune… two lugubrious love poets, whom I had followed through the pages of social media.A seed was being sown in my subconscious.There was Aditya and Shiraz, two young Indian guys who had pestered me at the turn of the year to be included in any new poetry anthology I might publish.And an anonymous writer who penned the most acerbic essays I had ever read on the traumas of life and death for women in modern day India.A minute passed and I lazily turned to my bedside table and a novel I had just bought, written by a young author named Nitika from Jodhpur.My mind then bounced to another writer named Elly. Was Elly also Indian? I needed to find out, as my thought patterns did somersaults.But, the seed had sprouted and the stem of a planted idea was growing.With eight writers I had the foundation for an anthology of Indian poetry.I shuddered with excitement.But hang-on… Minnie was from Afghanistan!And the anonymous writer (whom I later discovered was called Janvi) was an essayist rather than a poet.I somehow needed to knit the idea together; and wanted writers from Pakistan, if this sprouting plant was to flourish.I also required at least 20 contributors to give it balance and diversity.I shared the growth with my likely recruits, and together we began searching for others.The Pakistan branch was filled quickly with the thoughtful words of art director Shahreen from Lahore and the peaceful quill of teacher Sobia in Karachi.Then, while circling our wagons, the Indians charged…Pratibha from the heat of Hyderabad was a prolific writer of fabulous verse, while her sometime cohort Pratik from Mumbai mixed stunning photography with intense words.Then came Anshul, a deep and creative scribe from Kolkata; Shilpa, a deft and graceful editor from New Delhi and Fahmida, a beautiful artist and Muslim poet in Bhiwandi.Amazing university English students Sakshi and Sanya, and psychologist ALankrita more than filled the Delhi quota, with diverse talents I could only dream of.Inside a working week we had 18 people on board.I needed just two more recruits… and they both came as surprise packages.Shaheeba from Assam, in the far east of India, had just celebrated her 16th birthday, but her writing showed the style and maturity of someone twice her age. With her mother’s permission she was with us.Finally, there came Agathaa, a 13th grade school student, who wrote with a verve and swagger I had rarely seen before.Asian Voices was conceived.Over the next six months the progress became something remarkable… a journey from a summer of hope to a winter of fulfilment.A journey of joy and scintillating creativity.The bonding of a family of artists.From Kabul in the north, via Karachi, Kolkata and Delhi, to Hyderabad in the south, their talent and beauty is simply breath-taking.There are no more choices, these are Asian Voices… the slim, easy to carry Director’s Cut version of its 225 page big sister Asian Voices which is also available complete with original graphics and bundles more poetry and prose.Nic Outterside(Editor and Director)
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Vendeur : Revaluation Books, Exeter, Royaume-Uni
Paperback. Etat : Brand New. 111 pages. 9.00x6.00x0.28 inches. In Stock. N° de réf. du vendeur zk1086136187
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