The story so far: In the previous episode of Ink On The Move, Jennifer’s travels took her to Ladakh and Kashmir. Things couldn’t have been peachier. But back home in the plains of the Yamuna, things had begun to unravel, and her world was coming apart.
The Domestic Front
I had been away for over a week and everything on the domestic front was disintegrating. I came back to a stale, musty smell that had been trapped inside my home. It hadn’t been cleaned while I was away although that was what the maid had promised. I had to deal with the dull layer of neglect that littered the floor and grimed the countertops. I threw open the large windows, and the air sighed as it escaped its prison. I had to sack my maid for negligence, adding to the chaos at home.
The chaos was compounded by a relentless moving floor of ants, ferrying eggs and debris to their nests. Little mounds of mud framed the balcony. This was their home now. I would have to battle against this determined infestation. The pest control team hadn’t arrived before my departure, despite repeated assurances. Where were all the jumping spiders and the lizards when I needed them most?
The chaos was compounded by a relentless moving floor of ants, ferrying eggs and debris to their nests. Little mounds of mud framed the balcony. This was their home now. I would have to battle against this determined infestation. The pest control team hadn’t arrived before my departure, despite repeated assurances. Where were all the jumping spiders and the lizards when I needed them most?
My first order of duty when I return from a trip away from home is to pull food out of the freezer. But try as I might, I couldn’t open the door. When I eventually did, my brain had to recalibrate its understanding of what a freezer could look like. No longer were there neat rows of frozen food. Instead, there were odd, twisted masses of half-melted and refrozen contents distorted into alien shapes. A landscape of jagged ice had gripped the lid making it hard for me to open it. I pulled the plug of the freezer and allowed its contents to thaw once more.

The electricity in my building had been cut off for two days, leaving me and the other residents in the dark, literally and figuratively. Only when the residents had gheraoed the facilities office, voicing their concerns of needless trauma to children, the old and the sick, was it restored. All this could have been solved by debate and negotiation rather than high-handedness. But I had been in Kashmir and was oblivious to all this. Cleaning the mess took most of the day.
Then, without any notice, my bank had blocked my account, leaving me unable to pay my credit card bill or even buy groceries with my card. Phone calls to my relationship manager weren’t helping. After a frustrating week of making no headway, I approached a friend who helped draft a letter to the RBI ombudsman and a few others. Later that night, he also posted the letter on Twitter. By next morning, I was besieged with phone calls and home visits. Social media works when every other avenue fails. The managers came home and, over glasses of beer, the matter was resolved. “Just because your bank disrespected me, I see no reason for me to reciprocate,” I said. My final triumph was that before they left, I sold them a couple of my books!
Before leaving for Kashmir, I had organised for the installation of the new blinds. The oppressive heat was just beginning. My old blinds were fraying and some were torn. The installation had been delayed, and now, when someone finally did show up, he was incompetent. More fire-fighting was required.
Was the world laughing at me? A slew of missteps, mishaps, one hard on the heels of another. If only I could hold people to their word, if only people were ashamed when they failed to show up or do slovenly work – if only people had enough self-respect to match their work to themselves. If stands stiff in the corner. No point going down this road. And so I focussed on the road show that was just beginning!
Publishing my book through a self-publishing platform has empowered me to take full control of its promotion, marketing strategies, and overall direction. Unlike being bound by the conventional approaches of a big publisher, I have the freedom to define what truly matters to me and focus on what adds value. This autonomy allows me to be the sole director of my book’s journey, ensuring that every decision aligns with my vision and goals, which I’ve discovered are very different to those entertained by mainstream publishers.
The Delhi Gymkhana
The thing is, that any situation can be turned around to your advantage, if you just love people! I was back from the mountains and my friends wanted to know how I was going about marketing the book on my very own without a team. They invited me to the Delhi Gymkhana for lunch and as we cozied down for a conversation, a group of elegant women entered and took the table next to ours. A chair bumped into mine, so I quickly got up to give the lady more space. They all apologized profusely, and one of them even came over to where I was sitting. I stood up, hugged her, and joked, “If you’d like to repay me, you could buy my book!”
To my delight, they were genuinely interested and immediately asked to see a copy. Fortunately, I had a few books in the car, and they eagerly purchased them all on the spot. What started as a simple lunch turned into a spontaneous book-signing event, filled with lively conversations and new fans. It was a spectacularly successful day, leaving me energized and grateful for the serendipitous encounter.

Tres
On another day, I was lunching with long-lost family friends at Tres, Lodhi Colony. I carried in an armful of books, and amid much laughter, began signing them. Intrigued, others smiled and I smiled back, holding my book up provocatively. They bought it.
They bought the gimmick—and the book!
Coming up in Ink On The Move: The book tour goes south
Jennifer Nandi’s book No Half Measures is an Amazon bestseller. Order your copy