At Steta, we get projects of all sorts and sizes. A golden rule we try to stick to always, is write a project proposal, no matter how small the project. After all, size of the project does not justify differential treatment of clients! Recently, a client was in a crashing hurry (as they almost always are ;). Under pressure, we started the project without a very detailed proposal. Big mistake, we realized later. Now, we’re older and a bit wiser. Here are my thoughts on the subject.
 
First of all, what is a project proposal? It’s a document that outlines the scope of work, intent, milestones, roles, process, timelines, commercials, and more, depending on the project. It covers all aspects of the work. It’s very easy to think that small projects don’t need it, but they do. Talent Is Not Enough by Shel Perkins is a great book that deals with these details and more.
 
How does a project proposal help?

1. It clarifies everyone’s roles and responsibilities.
2. It defines the scope of work. Otherwise, the work can spiral into endless iterations.
3. It sets expectations. The client will know what she/he will get and what they won’t.
4. It clarifies the timelines. If there’s a delay, it’s easier to know who is responsible.
5. It makes money matters transparent.

 
To sum up, a project proposal brings everyone on the same page. While writing it, you also see things clearly in your own head. You realize aspects of the work and risks that you would not have realized earlier. You break down the work process and understand how to look after your own interests. You learn to be more articulate. Thinking these things through enables smooth running of the project and also ensures project completion as per plan.
 
Lastly, everyone involved with a project should view time spent on preparing a proposal as time ‘invested’, not time spent.

I continue my thoughts on the subject of women writers from developing countries and in this post, I cover novels by Sumedha Ojha and Leila Aboulela.

I’ve not read many books on historical fiction and I’m not a big fan of the spy theme, but this book, Urnabhih – A Mauryan Tale of Espionage, Adventure and Seduction by Sumedha Ojha had me hooked. While most novels with such a theme focus on the challenges of the ruling clan of such empires, or purely on court intrigue, this book makes a case for the ordinary people who lead extraordinary lives to ensure such empires flourish. The book is incredibly well researched and brings alive the era with such clarity that as a reader, I see the characters in their geography, gain insights into their hopes and fears, and even feel the buzz and excitement of their festivals.

A dancer of incredible beauty and grace, Misrakesi wants to avenge her sister’s killing. Her resolve quickly fades and she agrees to become a spy in the defense of the empire. From then on, she moves from one intrigue to the other. The challenges of empires at that time – from military threat and war to counterfeit coins, from power struggles and intrigue in the courts to the workings of the spy organization, and from the role the sabha grihas (dance houses) play in the gathering and disbursing of information to larger dynamics of the empire are all skillfully woven into the tale.

The mysterious and powerful figure of Chanakya flashes through the story now and then inspiring awe and at times fear, and the ruthless Pushyamitra – the head of the spy organization are the other characters who make up the story. But more than these details, what was heartening was the brand of feminism that came to the fore – at once fragile and strong willed.

The Translator is a book that moves between contrasting landscapes, worlds, and beliefs of Aberdeen, Scotland and Khartoum, Sudan. In the hands of the author, everyday, mundane moments suddenly become evocative and even emotional. These images stay on with the reader. For instance, sample these moments in Khartoum. The sound of the call for prayers, the sudden power cuts and the acceptance of such inconveniences, the mixing of ice cubes in a cool drink on a hot dry summer day – one can relate to these moments so well.

To me, what was most captivating was the main character, Sammar, an Arabic translator working for a Scottish secular scholar, who is trying to make sense of her life in a foreign country after a personal loss. The struggle while coping with grief, the burden of expectations of family, the sense of responsibility and guilt towards ones children, hesitancy in a budding relationship, battling questions of differing faiths – and yet, keeping ones faith in the possibility of a better tomorrow in the backdrop of present day world politics and the troubled Middle East all makes for an engaging read. There’s a brand of quiet feminism at play that is endearing and uplifting at the same time. Incidentally, the name Sammar in Arabic means the night-time conversations in the desert. How beautiful is that for a thought?

My next post will focus entirely on the book In The Time of The Butterflies by Julia Alvarez.

A few days back, I sat in a contemplative mood recounting the books I’ve read in the past few months. The books include -- Idris – The Keeper of the Light by Anita Nair, Map of Love by Ahdaf Soueif, Urnabhih – A Mauryan Tale of Espionage, Adventure and Seduction by Sumedha Ojha, The Translator by Leila Aboulela, and In the Time of the Butterflies by Julia Alvarez.

Only when I put down this list in this fashion, did it occur to me that I’ve been reading women writers that too from developing countries. There is something in these stories that attracts me – for one, they are not the standard stories that emerge from the West. I think I’ve had enough of those. There is just so much one can explore and experience (so what if it is in the form of books?) It’s like taking a journey to these places, getting glimpses of the subtle nuances of their cultures, gaining insights into their languages, noting the place of women in these societies, and even exploring the question of their identity and how they seek a place for themselves in the world.

One novel moves from Somalia to the Malabar coast and thence to Ceylon and then finds its way back to the mainland in Toothukudi (Tuticorin) and on to the diamond mines of Golkonda. Set in the 1600’s, this enriching novel recreates the time and the places with such authenticity, one feels history textbooks and classrooms could be transformed. The level of detail and the recounting of ordinary moments are extraordinary. The book leaves you with lasting impressions. This is Anita Nair’s Idris – The Keeper of the Light.

Another novel moves from Britain to Egypt – set in the past and the present, it weaves a story of overcoming loss and finding love. The story is revealed through a series of letters discovered by a close family member of the main characters – a grieving English lady trying to overcome a personal loss and a staunch Egyptian nationalist. The underlying themes of British imperialism, the fierce nationalism of the Egyptians, and the continuing turmoil of the Middle East are skillfully interwoven in the story and perhaps, what stands out is the grace one is capable of in the face of adversity. This is Ahdaf Soueif’s The Map of Love. Ahdaf Soueif is Egyptian, as you may have guessed.

In my next post, I will cover the books Urnabhih – A Mauryan Tale of Espionage, Adventure and Seduction by Sumedha Ojha and The Translator by Leila Aboulela. The book, In the Time of the Butterflies deserves an exclusive post – you will see why when you come to it. And I hope to do justice in my review of this truly inspirational book that is based on a true story.