Casting a literary spell

His latest indulgence as an author has yielded yet another bestseller (read Brida). Paulo Coelho shares his success story with Anamika Chatterjee in this e-mail interview.

Themes like spirituality and mysticism are recurrent in most of your works. How do you rate Brida?
When I start a new book, I approach myself from a different angle. In The Alchemist, for example, I was trying to explain what writing meant to me. The way I found to do this was through a metaphor. In Brida, I explore the life of a woman who dives into sorcery and experiments with different magical traditions. Through her life and character, I explore many themes that are dear to me, such as The Great Mother, pagan religions and the different perceptions of love.
All stories, characters bare the seal of my personality, but each has its own path, its own identity. It’s only by living intensively that I’m able to gather enough experiences, emotions, that later on guide me when I decide to write.

Your books are said to have “changed the lives of many”.
Readers are always very inventive. I remember once an Indian reader sent me a letter saying that she had offered one of my books to the Ganges. I thought this was such a poetic and beautiful thing to do.

Brida was written in 1990. Why is it that it came out for publication after almost two decades?
When I wrote this book, ideas such as the feminine face of
God were still alien to most people, but now, I see a shift in perception — people are more open now to the intuitive perception of the world and are less easily seduced by the fixed rules of the society. And that’s why I came out with Brida in its first English translation. I think her time has come.

Would you say that there’s a certain formula for a bestseller?
I don’t have a ready-made formula to apply when I embark on a new book, but I’m always controlled by my discipline, compassion and a sincere eagerness to understand myself.

Any message for Indian readers. I think the best advice is always to not follow any advice. Try life by yourself. Freedom is people making their decisions by themselves, not giving it away for a guru to answer and decide for them.

Condemned to remember

I beg, cry and pray for freedom,

Hoping you will grant it to me some day

But at times my vision blurs

And I cross the line in a haze!

A blasphemous silence is all you have,

A gift you offer me every day,

I have accepted it graciously

Knowing that I won't ever find that ray!

Sunset has become more beautiful than ever

For it reminds me of a speechless you,

That moonlit night, that starry sky
All they offer are countless memories of you!

An ocean of happiness is what I hide

It makes me weak, but often strong

The memories will die their own death

and I shall know I was always wrong!

That road we walked on still bears our footprints,

That palace of dreams still echoes our laughter

So what if you didn't hold my hand,

I always knew there wouldn't be a 'happily ever after'!

Kol katha

Going back to a city after more than a decade can be extremely depressing. My recent visit to Kolkata just goes on to prove that only too well. Last time I visited Cal, as most in my family love to address it, was when I was 12 years of age and completely doted on small bribes like the Bijoli Grill ice cream soda, daanedar mishti , the human rickshaw.... and the list is endless. While packing my bags I had hoped to be in the same old Cal, but alas! The city has changed a lot in these years, and if the residents are to be believed, things have changed only for the better. Malls and multiplex invasion have paved way for the formation of a clan that I'd personally call Kolkata GenNow. These aren't your regular youngsters in denims and Nike t-shirts. This is a bunch that has a cigarette placed perpetually in their hands (smoking is just incidental here), prefer a loose tee with a worn out jeans and most importantly, is all set to criticise anything that's remotely Delhi. To see this kind of a crowd in the malls was rather unexpected, but when some of them happen to be your friends, you can't do much about it except for listening patiently.

For these youngsters, Delhi isn't a place-to-bge primarily because it has no culture. And why not? "People there behave as if they have come from savage lands." "They can't even respect women or the elderly. There's just no safety." "The feeling of belonging among Delhi-ites is missing. It could be because most of them are migrants." My rather politically correct answer was " If you can live in Delhi, you can live anywhere."

After encountering the abhorrence for Del;hi, my next tryst with a rather unusual complain was how come being 23, I was comfortably single. My cousin's argument was 'Make full use of your freedom as a financially independent woman." Her views were echoed by some aunts , even though the uncles stayed out of the matter. Little did the women realise that by forcing a freedom on me she was, in fact, limiting the notion of freedom most of us have young women. Her reasons... "In Kolkata, women start dating as and when they join college." I giggled for a while thinking that in most parts of the country the progression takes place rather early. I presume that's the reason I was taken to the malls even though I pleaded to go to places like New Market, Digha and Gariahat.

After the isms were thoroughly analysed in our chatting sessions, it was time to pay a visit to the Ganges. If there's a singularly most divine thing that a human beiong could do, is to try boating in the Outrum Ghats. As you look around, you feel you are floating in the water.... you reach a point where you are somewhat closer to redemption. This singular indulgence atones for all the isms that are imposed on you for being a Delhi-ite.

As she liked it

Accompanying a friend in love for shopping is almost like playing Shakespeare's archetypal court fool...someone like Touchstone (in As You Like It). There is something very comical about spending hours accompanying a woman whose very purpose of existence for that very day is buying a 'wallet' for a 'friend' who, of course, has been promoted from that level to being a potential lover. Sadly you know you are not a part of this 'reality', but yet you embark on the Odyssean journey of finding that precious little gift.

This Sunday evening, I played a Touchstone to an old friend who was on a similar trip. Our search, rather hers, for that peeeeeeerfect wallet made us walk through the dinghy inner circle, in CP, twice. I could see the shine in her eyes as she was looking for that wallet. She picked one, but threw it aside after the size of the wallet disappointed her. She wanted the size to be bigger than regular wallets. Traditional wisdom suggests that a large wallet helps keep men more money. The lady's explanation was quite simple. "If he can't fill this wallet up, I shall know that he's not worthy of my love." Not that I believe in the money-is-not-everything dictum, but the fact that she said this was a reason enough for me to laugh at the whole exercise. A gift had to be given to the guy, and the gift had to be a wallet, and the wallet was expected to0 be full in all days, all the time. And finally, she laid her hands on a reasonably decent wallet and spent Rs 1,000 on it. (Of course I was lamenting the fact that I'd get a Patrick French and a large chocolate croissant with lemonade at the Oxford Bookstore for that amount). However, I wasn't in for a complete disappintment either. I was treated with a bhutta and a bunta for my services and of course, some tips on how to win a suitable guy in 10 days. By then I at least knew one ... buy him a big wallet.