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Radio Brew: Our Very Own JK Rowling? Young Adult Fantasy Fiction Finds an Indian Narrator

15DEC

“We can’t hide the fact that we have all been raised from C S Lewis to Tolkien to the rest of them; that we have all been raised on various Hindu mythology and Indian mythologies and know more about pixies and fairies than perhaps even the Irish children…..thanks to Enid Blyton. So there is no hiding the fact that these are who our influencers are.”

Giti Chandra, Author: ‘The Fang Of Summoning’Audio Player

This podcast is another in our Radio Brew series where we interview thought leaders on the issues and institutions that matter to us as a country with increasing global visibility.

We felt that after much serious discussion on ethics, social innovation and development, we should change tracks, lighten up a bit, and look at some of our society’s trendsetters.

Our trendsetter this time around is a new author, Giti Chandra, whose first offering, the Fang of Summoning, has been described by critics as a fantasy novel in the same mould as Harry Potter.  Its publishers categorise it as a Young Adult or adolescent crossover appealing to a wider age group as well. This genre, in India and worldwide, has largely been dominated by JK Rowling, Teri Pratchett and Percy Jackson.

So here we have a literary academic plunging into a hitherto unexplored terrain in India. Now young adults in India can read stories about experiences and anxieties they can relate to at a more personal level.

As Giti herself puts it: the Fang of Summoning is not about ‘dumbing down’ but about addressing the real issues that India’s adolescents and their parents go through. She said it began as a process of storytelling with her nephews and nieces before morphing into a novel. Giti promises this is but just the beginning. We can expect a trilogy, and perhaps even an entire series of prequels and offshoots.

The Fang of Summoning zigzags chillingly between Iceland and India. The novel is about a war between ancient good and evil; between Vasuki (the Indian snake king) and Edasich (the orange star in astronomy).

Amid the leaping and spectacular Northern lights in the frozen mountains of Iceland, Vasuki — the giver of life, protector and friend — leaves a vital secret with a young girl.

A thousand years later, in the bustling suburb of Gurgaon, six young people discover that they are beginning to manifest amazing powers in preparation for the war ahead, under the tutelage of their grandfather Harish Chandra, the guardian of that secret.

It’s a fast-paced story of six superpower-endowed children finding themselves up against an ugly monster who can raise the dead to serve as his henchmen.

Giti draws on her family and friends for inspiration, giving her characters their personalities and sometimes, even names.

The way Giti describes it: her book is not about Hogwarts-like schools or alternative magic lands. It is, quite simply, just fantasy rooted in reality.

Listen in to hear the author tell it like it is.

 

Amaltas: Masks of Summers Past

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The pleasure of daffodils
Worth the words of that couch-lier
Danced springbright until
The light one early evening caught
The shine and glow and fire
Of Amaltas. An empty vase
A mirror, a mask – it’s not
As if reflections on summers past
Cannot be painted and worn. It’s just
That sometimes the pleasure of
The Amaltas
Cannot be borne.

The green and gold bronze
The all seeing eye; rivulets
Of yellow run down the ivory cheek.
Of all the things left behind, I
Carried a face to face the lost things
I would seek. It’s not
As if reflections of Indian summers
Can’t be worn. It’s just that sometimes
The memory of Amaltas
Can’t be borne.

 

(Amaltas is the Indian name for Laburnum)

Daedalus on a Summer’s Day

I thought I saw Icarus fall
White in a sky of blue
An iridescent fireball
A folly of feathers and glue
I thought I heard Icarus sing
The wind fluting in descent
A common snipe on the wing
A late spring lament.

But my eyes have long since failed me
Not entirely from years
Blinded by a son that blazed as he trailed me
Afire with my burden of fears.
Too old to see these silent flyers
Childless father of flight
Bound forever in this bird thronged tower
Forever airborne, blinded by light.

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Ballad for Bedivere

I first saw them heading north
White edges raised to the grey
Skies, blue under-bellies turned
Away from the black waters,
Jagged ripples of ice. The mountains
Streaked brown now, slowly stripped
Of snow. I know
Now, excruciatingly, how
That doomed knight saw
The gleaming hilt, dazzled
By every tilt
Of the jewelled Blade. Bow
Under the weight of frozen fate.
The arm clothed in white samite
Brandishes the new year
Even here, where no colour clangs
Holi, holy no less, on thawing banks.
(Holi marks the Hindu New Year)

My Niece the Slam Poet

When you were little – very very little –
I would turn your pajamaed feet up
Bump them with my nose until
You squeaked. In protest, amusement,
Annoyance, recusement,
Who knows.

When you were a little less little,
You would stand over my newborn
And earnestly lecture her by the hour.
Don’t listen to anyone, I heard you say once,
You just do whatever you want.

A little more less little, and stories dropped
From you like the monsoons, drenching
Us all in a deluge of images, floods of plots.
Then you became not little at all.
And we waited for the words to fall.
But they clung to the paper on which you left them
Swaddled in sheets, jealous to be found.

And here you are, with such a big voice
And me, speechless, at this thundering sound.

 

(Inspired by Ananya Pandey, a real life poet, who is also a super hero in The Book of Guardians Series)

Chapter 15: The Attack of the Ferals (The Bones of Stars)

Chapter  15: The Attack of the Ferals
It was an image of the geyser blowing at Yellowstone. The image in the central laptop was odd but unmistakable. The frame had caught the eruption at its peak and the screen was filled with red flecked with gold.

“Well I’ll be darned. It’s the eruption!” Yvonne was the first to speak. “And that is exactly as we saw it. That same, absolutely impossible deep red!”

Ethan leaned in and pointed to the third screen. “Hyun? What on earth are those green dots doing?! This looks like a DNA sequence or something!” Hyun pulled a chart over to her and began to make some calculations in pencil on it. “Well, you see” she began but she was cut short by Adit.

“Is that a face?”

The words were no more than a whisper yet the room fell silent as if felled by a blow. Everyone turned to him as he leaned towards the first screen. It showed the geyser moments after it had subsided. The still pool, still rippling from the after water had been sucked back in and spewed lightly back. It was a dull, rusty red with shadows deep in its centre and gold lights shifting over its surface.

“There. See?” He pointed to a smudge in the centre of the bubble. Hyun hurried over and pressed a few keys. The image enlarged, zooming in on the spot that Adit’s finger had touched. A large blurry image filled the screen with two just discernible patches that could be eyes. Hyun tapped a few more keys and the image sprang into focus. Adit sank to his knees.

With a deafening bang the door slammed shut. In the instant it took the three witches to open the door and whirl out, Adit was armed and battle ready. He hefted the carving knife from the kitchen in one hand and gripped the handle of a smaller blade in the other. Outside the Feral army had massed an attack of gigantic proportions. Adit’s skin crawled as he saw the flat yellow eyes and spotted skin revealed through the patches of fur that clung to the bony hyena-men. He slashed at a large male as it lunged for him, realizing in the same moment that his paltry kitchen knives were no use against a foe that was already dead. The severed arm of the Feral snapped back into place and a shower of its spit hit Adit across his chest, burning its way through his clothes into his skin.

“Use these!” Adit’s arm swung out instinctively when he heard Hsimah’s shout and he caught a long sliver of ivory in his hand. Without stopping to wonder what manner of weapon this was, he bent double under a flying spray of the deadly spit and lashed out at the legs of the Feral. The ivory rapier sliced through the bone almost without effort and the severed legs fell to the earth in a pile of powdered bone.

“Bone to bone!” shouted Hsimah, his grin wild against the raised sabre tooth he wielded. It was at least 6 feet long but Hsimah swung it lightly, his slim body lithe as a whip. Swift as quicksilver, he stepped behind a crouching female Feral and stabbed her backhanded, wrenching the sabre tooth sword out and bringing it about in a wide arc to ground it ferociously in the neck of another.

“Another, Hsimah!” called Adit, and an instant later reached out to catch a short, lethal looking dagger about a foot long. It was slightly curved, like a horn torn from some large animal’s head. But before he could turn a body slammed into his back with gutting power. Forced to his knees Adit dropped the dagger to tear at the bony arms wrapped around his neck, the body heavy beyond belief. Gagging, he felt the muzzle-like chin against his cheek, the spit burning its way down neck and screamed in agony. The stench of the decaying flesh filled his lungs and he choked again, writhing in the dead creature’s grip. Twisting his other arm, he brought the thin rapier about and brought it down on his own back in a flagellating motion. The Feral dissolved in dust as the rapier ripped through it and Adit leapt to his feet, staggering from the pain. His neck and chest were smoking where the deadly spit continued to hiss and sizzle on the blackening flesh. Yet he grabbed the horned dagger and forced an eye open just as the skin was beginning to pucker up around it.

A tall form confronted him inches away. Adit reared back and raised his dagger to strike.

“Easy, easy. Let me take a look at that nasty stuff.” The voice was soft and comforting and the tall shape resolved itself into Ethan, blue eyes shining through the dirt that matted his hair and face. Somehow in the midst of hell he was a spot of silence and stillness. Adit swayed towards him and he caught the boy deftly, placing both hands gently over the worst of the wounds. The teeth gritting agony ebbed almost immediately, subsiding to a dull throbbing. Adit opened his eyes, wondering why he had not been attacked again and stared dumbfounded. The battle raged all about them still, but seemed to flow around them like a roaring river parting around a large rock in its path. Ethan’s robes swirled gently in the current but seemed to mark the outmost boundary of the temporary oasis. Adit gazed up in wonder at him. The warlock’s eyes were shut and a look of intense suffering suffused his face. Suddenly the intense blue eyes snapped wide open and with a hoarse shout Ethan flung out an arm into the battle.

Hyun came skidding into the silent circle, her hair matted with blood where a severed hand clung on. Adit found himself loosed and sprang towards Hyun, burying his dagger up to his fist straight into the face of the enormous creature that clawed at Hyun with its other hand. He barely had time to glance back and mutter “thanks, man!” before another Feral was upon him. Hyun stayed barely still, swearing loudly and furiously as Ethan smoothed her hair with an infinitely gentle hand. Then she strode forward, pulled up her hoodie’s long sleeves and flung a bolt of pure energy past Adit towards Hsimah. Hsimah zipped a hair’s breadth to the left and inclined his head in courtly gratitude as the Feral lunging for his neck went up in flames.