My latest book is The One Who Swam With The Fishes.
"A mesmerizing account of the well-known story of Matsyagandha ... and her transformation from fisherman’s daughter to Satyavati, Santanu’s royal consort and the Mother/Progenitor of the Kuru clan." - Hindustan Times
"Themes of fate, morality and power overlay a subtle and essential feminism to make this lyrical book a must-read. If this is Madhavan’s first book in the Girls from the Mahabharata series, there is much to look forward to in the months to come." - Open Magazine
"A gleeful dollop of Blytonian magic ... Reddy Madhavan is also able to tackle some fairly sensitive subjects such as identity, the love of and karmic ties with parents, adoption, the first sexual encounter, loneliness, and my favourite, feminist rage." - Scroll
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19 August 2005
I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink, I'm sooooo tired, my mind is on the blink, I wonder should I get up and get myself a drink?
So here's what has happened to me this week:
Monday, I made pages again at work, put the finishing touches on my blogging story and sent it off. Thank you, thank you to all the wonderful women who told me their stories. I wanted to put each email and conversation in, whole and unedited, but sadly, I couldn't. Space constraints and all. But after my story is printed (and no, I can't tell you when and I can't tell you where) I'll post all the emails here, if that's okay with the people who sent them in.
Tuesday, finally the longest week on desk ended. Each time I have to do it (we take it by turns) I think of it as the week that never ends. But this time I had even done one extra day and had begun desk week on a Saturday and ended it two weeks later, technically. I met Iggy for drinks at MBs and told her that she was famous on my blog. The rest of my college gang had met up on Monday, coz it was Independance Day and all, and had had long bitching sessions about this other chick--the "friend" who slept with K. like a month after we broke up. So I was brought up-to-date about what was happening and I listened with utmost glee. I always defend my sex staunchly when people say, "Oh you women just gossip" because we really, really don't do it more or less than men do. I've seen guys bitching like MAD and then being really sweet to the person they were bitching about.
I have my four or five closest friends and the rest, are, well, incidental. I like them all very much, that's why they're my friends in the first place, but, yeah, four or five people tops, know every nuance of my life, down to how I'm going to react in a situation. This one time, I remember, Iggy and I had gone out with one of her friends and I was showing him my lighter, where the flame turns from blue to green. He examined it for a while and said, "There's a copper wire here and when that burns it turns green." (Or something. I forget the exact scientific thing he said). So I grinned at him and said, "Oooh, dude, you're so scientific." and he said, "Okay, cut the sarcasm." And Iggy goes, "Um... she actually means it." And that made me quiet for a while, because, I had said it quite flippantly, even though I was seriously impressed that he knew that and I was amazed that she could tell. Friends are like the best invention, ever.
Wednesday, I met Anoushka Shankar and she's very nice and very pretty. She was wearing loads of blush-on and she's just released an album and dude, fuck, she's twenty four. My age. I also want to have released an album or two or three. *sulk* I have my Grammy speech all ready also. (I practice in the bathroom mirror with shower gel and sorta scoop my hair back with shampoo so it looks like I have a pompadour. Then I do a Britney Spears performance, usually Hit Me Baby, One More Time. Stop laughing.) Anyway, so we were packing up and the photographer tells me, "It's really cool that she's like so into classical music and stuff." "Yeah?" I said, coz, really, duh? "No, I mean, considering she used to be a hard core raver. I used to see her at all these parties." My jaw dropped and he grinned happily at me. Anyway, that's my Anoushka Shankar story.
That evening I went for a photography exhibition, but nothing really exciting happened there. Then I went to Priya's where we both moaned about how tired we were and she had just returned from Manali so she got me this really cool purple and white knit hairband. It looks odd now though, coz the ends of my hair stick out like some porcupine or something, but now that winter's coming, I'm thinking of growing my hair again. Which means that it's in the in-between stage now and every day is a bad hair day.
Then we went to TC where we also met Nitya, Hot Nineteen from last week, and a bunch of other people. We're frankly getting a little bored of TC now, *collective gasp* so next Wednesday we're going to Cafe Morrisson which has retro nights and free jive lessons every week. It sounds like fun, no? :)
Phew, finally, today I went to this new place for lunch, very hungover I might add. I was being slightly short with the lisping, very gay PR guy who latches on so I felt intense guilt when he said, "You know, you're such a warm person. And you're so nice. I feel like I can talk to you, not like other journos." I felt so bad, I was instantly very nice to him battling all my feelings of annoyance. I'm a terrible person. Food was good though.
After that, just when I thought I could go home and go to bed, I was sent for a book launch, Aitzaz Ahsan's, and the chief guest they got just wouldn't shut up. I don't know what it is with these people. It's like he didn't want to relinquish the limelight. He talked for like one hour and by the time the poor author got up again to ask if there were any questions, everyone was in a state of somnolence. And this old guy behind me kept belching. Why do old people think they can let go of gas wherever they want without a word of apology? These were long, loud belches too, the kind that sound like just before you're going to vomit.
Okay, that was my week so far. No wonder I'm tired.