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Shobha Sharma is a member of the Jane's Stories Press Foundation Board.
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Shobha Sharma arrived in the U.S. in 1976. She spent the first few years juggling between establishing her career
in Chemistry and raising her two young boys in a feminist culture. Night classes in Spanish kindled a love for the language
and she started taking credit courses to learn the language better. This was the beginning of a career change to teaching
English as a second language and the advent of a realization that writing was helping her express her new emerging self as
well. The opening of a feminist bookstore called "Prairie Moon" and meeting sisters who mentored and encouraged her allowed
the blooming of her creative side.
Shobha likes to write about her culture and finds that, even though her story telling
might be about people from a different world, their life stories have universal appeal. Her experiences compel her to use
poetry or prose, depending on what form wells up within her at any given moment to find an outlet. She believes that writing
is a form of therapy that helps her understand herself and others with compassion, patience, and a little bit of humor.
Her
first publication was a story about her grandmother entitled "Manni patti" in the journal Sistersong, followed in the spring
of 1996 by the publication of the first chapter of her novel about women from India who emigrated to the US in the chapbook,
Prairie Moon Readout. In 2000, Janes Stories II (Wild Dove Studio and Press) contained her short story, "Incident at the Dekalb
Oasis," and, in 2002, Outrider Press published her poem entitled "Kitchen Memories” in the anthology "Take Two, They're
Small," edited by Whitney Scott. In November of 2002, Janes Stories Press Foundation published a collection of her short stories,
entitled Kitchen Stories. She is currently finishing up her novel about the women from India and editing the installment of
Kitchen Stories for Jane’s Stories. She also plans a pilot project of memoirs by immigrant women for the foundation.
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Submit to Kritya Journal of Poetry
www.kritya.in
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Trivandrum -695011,Kerala India
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An excerpt from the upcoming Kitchen Stories II:
“Holi hai!”
“Holi hai!” (“It is Holi, the festival of colors!”) screamed the young man. He caught Amma coming
out of the door way and smeared some red and green powder on her face.* Amma stepped quickly inside, her brow all wrinkled,
and I could see her neck turn red without the powder. The water in the wash basin gurgled and sputtered and she emerged from
the bathroom with a towel wiping her face clean. Next she walked into the room where Appa was and muttered, “It is all
Chobi’s fault.” Appa distractedly cluck clucked, his face buried as usual in the morning newspaper.
I had just entered third standard and really enjoyed this spring festival in North India. My sister used to go out for
Holi celebrations till she was thirteen. Now she gave me her nose-up-in-the-air look which really meant “How childish
can you be?” Of course I ignored her and watched with pride as my younger sister looked at me. She did not say anything
but followed me around as I got myself ready to leave the house.
To get ready for Holi meant that I had to find a raggedy, torn old frock that I could throw away. Amma usually saved a
lot of old clothes to exchange with the stainless steel man who would make his rounds every month. The man would yell, “Ever
silver waa-llaaaaayh, ever-silver waa-laaaaayh!” All the women would come out into the streets like little ants running
after sugar crystals. Then they would sit on the verandah areas with the young man, chatting and bargaining with him to give
a bigger container than the one he promised for their pile of old clothes. He would always start with a small one and finally
leave with a disgusted look. There would be a bigger pile of clothes on his head and one less steel container.
I would feel so sad for him and would ask Amma, “Poor guy, he doesn’t look happy, are you cheating him Amma?”
Amma would look at me as if I were crazy and retort, “Chobi,you don’t know anything about bargaining! He will
turn the street and laugh at my stupidity. If he is being cheated, why does he keep coming back to my house? Anyway I gave
him my nicest old clothes, hardly any tears, and rags. Maybe I should have gotten a bigger vessel, what do you think?”
Here Amma would talk about this latest idli-making device that she had seen him carry. However, he had refused to even show
her that piece.
* Holi is one time of the year when people take unusual liberties like entering homes.
Click here to view a copy of Kitchen Stories I.
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