Writers love transforming even plain words into metaphors that threaten to tell the truth as it really is. This breed loves staring boldly (well, sometimes meekly) into a blank sheet of paper until ideas are forced to get in line and begin marching to the tune that they whistle or hum or sing… or just imagine. They find deadlines and ‘the whooshing noise they make as they go by’ as tantalizing as a squirming live worm appears to a fish. Writers churn bland facts into stories that come alive. Writers hover their pens and pencils over paper like knights on a royal quest… and these days most have two jumpy fingers on a keyboard ready to strike like trained commandos on a mission. Every moment from the day an idea strikes to the day a manuscript is ready turns into one that patronizes words like Eureka! Howzat! Aha! Bingo! and Whammy! Sometimes, of course, just a wee smile. Oh yes, a writer lives inside a fantasy all the time and pops out his head into the real world occasionally to pick up whatever holds his attention. Not that life outside is miserable. Far from it. It is just that this is what a writer loves and does. Until. Well, until publishers drag a howling writer out and command him to start selling his work.
We know that most writers do not like the pressures of selling. I recollect what a writer friend wrote on Facebook: “If I knew being a writer is all about selling, I would have opened a lucrative paanshop instead.” Paanshop indeed! Well, paanwalas are rather innovative these days and have created their own brand of a fantasy world with brands that have gone way beyond their usual repertoire of banarasi paan that could be saada or meetha, or have a sprinkling of zarda, gulab, and panchmeva, or be shaped like a gujiya. They are now ready to serve a fire paan, a butterscotch corn paan, chuski paan, chocolate paan, gold paan, fruit-n-nut paan… and I will not be surprised to discover some enterprising paanwala inventing the sushi paan, manchurian paan, biryani paan, or even a kathi-roll paan in these corona-riddled times when gourmet tummies are finding going to restaurants rather intimidating. Thank your stars dear writers that they haven’t yet begun using the word ‘genre’ for their long list of innovations. I guess most of these paanwalas might not be be scouring Amazon for books, but then if the contest is between them and writers, they would. After all, their paans have quite a lot of ingredients one finds in thrillers, romances, mysteries, and any other genre of fiction or non-fiction you can come up with. The other day I found a stranger place a paan in his mouth and after a moment he closed his eyes and whispered in ecstasy: ‘Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.’ (Emily Bronte in Wuthering Heights) Paan connoisseurs, as even the lay paan consumer, wouldn’t mind quoting even Ian McEwan from Atonement: ‘I’ve never had a moment’s doubt. I love you. I believe in you completely. You’re my dearest one. My reason for life.’ This is what the romantic genre is all about. Ask Durjoy Dutta, Nikita Singh, Novoneel Chakravorty, or even Chetan Bhagat and you’ll know this is the kind of reader reaction they want for their books.
There have been hundreds of times when I have seen people with paan juice dribbling from the ends of their elated mouth, debating what really went in them. They might say: ‘This one is murderous. The elaichi sitting next to gulkand with supari at the other end is what transforms it into a killer!’ There you go… I have no idea how Agatha Christie or Earl Stanley Gardner or even our own Vish Dhamija, Hussain Zaidi, Mukul Deva, Manjiri Prabhu, Ashwin Sanghi or Kulpreet Yadav go about creating their thrillers, but most Paanwalas know their craft inside-out. They know the exact moment when a particular flavour needs to hit the taste-buds and they know intuitively the amount that will form that magical potion. If you care to ask one of these good paanwalas for tips on the right way of handling a paan, they will have their own ’10 best’ or ‘3 mistakes’ or ‘7 critical actions’… and maybe even their own version of 5 P or 3 W + 2H that management writers drone about. Non-fiction and paanwalas have a deeper connection than you could ever have imagined. Now before historical thriller writers like Madhulika Liddle conclude that their genre is not the stuff that could be compared to paanwalas, let me add that every paanwala out in the world can link every contour of katha stains on his palms and the veins on the paan-leaves with anecdotes and stories from the past that may have the sound of steam engines and clip-clop of riders meandering purposefully through the narration. And yes, there are hints of horror and unworldly apparitions that certain paanwalas link to what they sell. I believe every paanwala has a potential writer lurking within.
Like writers, even paanwalas can be inept, good, great, and superstars. And like them, a few do whine about having to focus on selling more than on their own art.
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Arvind Passey
27 November 2020
