B. S. Walia

There was a time when I was exploring every means of livelihood worth the name while paradoxically all my hidden latent energies lay in wait. However vagaries of time ultimately led me to what I was sent into this beautiful world. Yes, it dawned on me that it was time to tap my inherent English-language potential.

The hunt started and a neighbourhood National Book Trust employee who knew my plight well as well as my English acumen got me a tough NBT job of transcribing the audio speeches of some African-accented English scholars. The authorities were dismayed when a herculean task was performed by a nobody. The paltry sum I got for the job was my first remuneration for my waiting upcoming career.

And then came another tough task from the NBT. It was transcribing hundreds of handwritten pages of an English author written sometime in the nineteenth century. The source handed to me was a highly faded manuscript where only 25 percent of the total letters could be deciphered. The fate of the rest depended on my comprehension; I needed to match and merge with the late author. And the job was done to the utter dismay and belief of the authorities. Suddenly I turned into somebody from nobody thanks to my English inclinations. It was my second earning from my new found lease of life.

The next was a translation from Hindi to English of an NBT book. That was my third earning.

And then started a series of editing work for the NBT.

Confidence ran high. The next move was editing various books for the Sahitya Akademi of India, New Delhi. The editor in me was bubbling with enthusiasm; I wanted to work wonders.

However all this was not enough to call it a livelihood that could support my family. The worry led me
to tap some private publishers.

Soon I was into the hub of publishers–the Ansari Road, Darya Ganj, New Delhi. As I was intense into the world of editing now, the publishers vied with each other to grab my services. Working with various of them was a revelation; a revelation what wonders I could do with the manuscripts of the best of authors. I edited the manuscripts or even published books of reputed authors of the likes of the chief editor of an English daily newspaper, the visiting professors of western universities, Oxford educated bigwigs. Editing the works of all these, I had a new revelation up my sleeve; I could write better than this whole lot given my English authority.

As the author in me ran high, I picked up my gold-plated pen and began revelling with it leading to scores of books. I want to keep revelling with my pen till my mental faculties bid me adieu.