Blogs

The World Health Organisation recently reported that over one in three women experience violence from a partner or family member. New Zealand matches that global statistic. We were reminded that family violence threads through our society just last week when the Livingstone children were shot in their beds by their father, who then turned the gun on himself.

A discussion on Linked In caught my eye over the Christmas break. It was led by a consultant who asked the question which, when roughly paraphrased went like this, ‘why do small business owners have an aversion to planning?’

I offered a series of thoughts on this subject, as I was trying to think through how I would write a business plan given all the changes that happened last year. With that in mind, I recalled all the plans I had written in the first three years of developing The Story Mint. Not one of them came to pass and I wondered why that was.

In the ten days leading up to Christmas, my words went on holiday. I could see them sunning themselves in deck chairs on a Fiji Island, coral reef turning the water a glorious azure with white washing waves crashing at its rim.

No, I wasn’t there but my imagination had followed. I was left behind, hollowed out and hoping they had not forsaken me forever. However, as you will see below I made the most of their absence.

And as you can see, I need not have worried. They came back about two days ago. Just in time for me to write a final summary of an incredible year.

Bend with the Wind, a novel I wrote while doing my Master of Creative Writing in 2009, comes out soon thanks to the generous support of a colleague. I am truly grateful for this, as I have no idea when I could have paid for it to be published. It has been a long journey

I went back to University in 2008 with my heart in my throat. I last studied four years earlier and what I was about to start was a step higher than anything I had done before.

The following night, we go to a market and I am amazed by all the crafts on display. There are the most beautiful Pashma scarves from Kashmir. I have never touched cloth so soft in my life and the intricate designs cover every colour imaginable from soft pinks to bright blues. Many of the designs mirrored other designs and the choice is overwhelming. A group of masked dancers begin an erotic dance to the beat of drums. Their bright red and yellow costumes flow about their bodies as they sway and gesture to an audience member who looks like he might join them.

It is evening and we are stuck in traffic. I have already written about the traffic, but now that I am in it at peak time (6.00pmish), trying to get to the India Civil Services Officers’ Institute, I have to admit I have never seen anything like it. Nobody sticks to the lanes . . . no such neat and orderly thing as that. Tuk tuks have an advantage . . . they can squeeze into the smaller spaces left by cars. Buses have size going for them, but that is also a disadvantage. Drivers toot, some even shake their fists out of windows but that does not create space. The sun is going down.

I go down tiled steps into a room without windows to have breakfast. I sit alone and read. This is when I miss home the most. I remind myself it’s only for a few days.

Mack left for New Zealand today and, although Shiraz has assured me he and Harpreet will look after me I feel as if I am losing a link to home.

The noise is phenomenal. The traffic weaves in and out….tuks tuks barp, cars toot, trucks grumble, carts drawn by mules clop along and cyclists weave in and

The noise is phenomenal. The traffic weaves in and out . . . tuks tuks barp, cars toot, trucks grumble, carts drawn by mules clop along and cyclists weave in and out of traffic that hems them in on all sides. I see near misses and catch my breath.

Being stripped of my sense of control is uncomfortable but grounding, and having to rely on others is not a sign of weakness but rather of strength. I gained these insights while on my first business trip to India.

Writers are like birds. Here’s why:

Most Saturdays, I go to a taiji class- which our teacher holds at his house. There are three of us and we practise for a minimum of three hours. We are all at various stages of competence but the rigorous exercise is wonderful. Over the years, we have developed firm friendships and our teacher is unstinting as he shares his knowledge and skills with us.