What have I done to deserve a book? But if I ask a man, he’ll immediately say, “Sure. I already have a draft that I can polish up. Should I send it by hard copy or email?”
Illustration/Uday Mohite
A couple of years ago, I had published my mother, Indu Shedde’s autobiography as a 95th birthday gift to her. It took me three years to put it together—to write it, research the text and photos, get it designed, find a publisher. This was in 2022, when COVID had made everything tougher, but I had to do it for Amma: if not at 95, when, was my motto. I had asked my friend Jerry Pinto for advice on how I could get the book published. Jerry Pinto, of course, is celebrated author, translator and winner of the Windham-Campbell Prize and Sahitya Akademi Award. He insisted that I should write my autobiography. Whaaat, I said, what’s the big deal about my life?
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“If a woman or youngster from a small town reads about your life, what you have achieved can be very inspiring. Not everyone has accomplished what you have,” he said. Umm, I guess so, I mumbled, not fully convinced--still, it would look like vanity publishing, na? “That’s a typical woman’s response,” Jerry snorted. “If I ask any woman to write a book about her life, she’ll say, ‘Kya kiya hai maine?’ What have I done to deserve a book? But if I ask a man, he’ll immediately say, “Sure. I already have a draft that I can polish up. Should I send it by hard copy or email?”
That got me thinking about men’s and women’s sense of self-worth, and I wondered, if I were to write an autobiography, what would I find worth putting in? I guess there’s many parts to my life that have made it so exciting for me—curating film and the arts, journalism, development issues, books, teaching, and loads of masti.
What do I remember? Here’s a few snatches. In film, it was a tremendous honour being on the Jury of the Cannes Film Festival’s Semaine de la Critique last year. To discuss films, and be on the red carpet, with fellow jurors I admire greatly, and to be at opening night dinner, with Catherine Deneuve just a few tables away, was something else. But also, while attending the Bucheon International Fantastic Film Festival, Korea, where I had curated a film package, I got such a fabulous massage by a blind masseur, I have since become a connoisseur of body massages, especially by the blind.
As for journalism, what I remember after four decades of it, is not only the famous people I interviewed, but the small kindnesses. When I interviewed Richard Gere, he gave me his autograph, and when I told him my office colleagues would scratch my eyes out from jealousy, he promptly signed 10 more autographs in my diary, saying, “Oh no, give these to them, we don’t want your eyes getting scratched, please,” with those twinkly kind eyes and dimpled smile that made me simply melt into a little puddle.
Working on development issues since 27 years—gender, water, education, health—has taken me all over rural India--meeting women political leaders elected in gram panchayats in rural Maharashtra, to tribals in the forests of Ranchi, Bihar, to transgender aravanis in Villupuram, Tamil Nadu, and village women leaders in water management in the deserts of Bhuj, Gujarat. And while I’ve written for/edited 21 books, my biggest joy came from being author of Life Begins on Thursday, a digital graphic novella on Guruwari, an Adivasi Gond girl runner.
Journalism also led to big opportunities for masti, including a chance to go twice on the gruelling but exhilarating, week-long Himalayan Car Rally, as navigator. And a journalist friend, Gouri Wagadarikar Umashankar, also introduced me to Mayank Chandan, senior advocate and trekking aficionado, with whose group I trekked to Goecha-la, at over 15,000 ft in the Sikkim Himalayas, even surviving a snow blizzard there.
Still, among the most deeply fulfilling opportunities in my life, would be teaching underprivileged teenagers, working on water issues—and now I’m working on a long-cherished dream, a project on caste. All this is fine for a column. Whether anyone wants to buy a book on my life, I don’t know. You tell me.
Meenakshi Shedde is India and South Asia Delegate to the Berlin International Film Festival, National Award-winning critic, curator to festivals worldwide and journalist. Reach her at meenakshi.shedde@mid-day.com
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