The blah goes on, at a new location.
See you there!
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Two views of India
The Elephanta Suite, by Paul Theroux
In this book, Theroux presents an India experience far removed from anything the grand India tourism machinery would like the world to have. And certainly one that will enrage anyone already irritated by 'The White Tiger' and offended by 'Slumdog Millionaire'.
The book has three stories, very mildly inter linked, of Americans exposed to the worst India has to offer - sleazy prostitutes, depraved co workers, fawning subordinates, grasping socialites. And the big one -POVERTY!!! The Americans rapidly degenerate into victims of one kind or another, easily exploited by conniving locals for sex and unlimited 'baksheesh'.
In 'Monkey Hill', a middle-aged couple at a fancy spa lose the immunity of white skin and dollars when they cross the line with some employees. In 'Elephanta Suite', a visiting lawyer, initially fearful of the water, the food and the people, feels freed of his inhibitions in a series of sexual encounters with prostitutes. And the young tourist in 'Elephant-headed God' (I think, can't remember the exact title), who is stalked and raped by an obnoxious co-worker, and then practically abandoned by law and locals alike, finds help and closure in the unlikeliest of places.
Some common themes run through the three stories - a gradual dissolving into bewilderment and alienation,a growing disillusionment with the people they meet and the experiences they have.Each of these characters feels isolated, threatened and ultimately used, by the people around them. Their India experience proves to be neither exotic nor exhilarating - it becomes an onslaught of grime, odour, depravity, greed, violence, cosmetic spirituality and really bad English.
And yet, I can't say I hated this book.Theroux's analysis of his characters - white and brown - is equally ruthless, but compelling. The book portrays Americans bearing the brunt of the way they are perceived by Indians. Their own responses are not always very smart, and the consequences always grim. Despite how unpleasant these stories were, I found myself curious to know how things would end for these rather hapless fish out of water. Yet with each story, the protagonists' response progresses a step forward - from fear, to calm acceptance to hitting back. The book does end with a very filmi climax,however, rather as if Theroux was getting a punch in for the Yankees.
Or he's a Hindi film fan.
By contrast, Chasing the Monsoon by Alexander Frater is much cheerier. Frater chronicles his travels on the heels of the Indian monsoon in the 1980s, a journey that starts in Kerala, works up to Goa and Mumbai and then on toward Delhi. Parallel to the story runs his recollections of his parents and grandfather, and their own ties with rain, life in tropical climes and this journey.
The most significant part of this journey for Frater is a trip to Cherrapunjee,a dream his father had but never lived to fulfil. A large part of the book is thus devoted to Frater's struggles with the bureaucratic process that hinders his trip to Meghalaya, then going through civil unrest and army intervention. It takes him two trips to India before the necessary permission finally comes through and Frater then finds himself in a race against time to reach the town, hopefully experience some rain and then leave before his permit expires. Will he, won't he?
This is a quick read - humorous, though not a laugh riot like Bill Bryson. It is peppered with all the usual colourful characters that are the mainstay of most tourism writing about India - bad drivers, gregarious socialites, weird mendicants, difficult civil servants. Also pimps, devotees of the BBC who would like to migrate to the UK, and a steady stream of strangely verbose fellow travellers. Did I mention bad drivers?
Frater does talk of poverty, corruption and the colossal failure of urban infrastructure in India.But his descriptions are never harsh. And in his writing, the monsoon becomes a character in itself, a wilful creature- loved ,romanticized or hated by people depending on their economic circumstances,capable of toppling governments by being fashionably late, still inspiring mass yagnas, ridiculous inventions and even human sacrifices in her crazed devotees.
In the end, however, I had to ask, what was the point? And was this really a chase, as much as a series of rain baths in picturesqe locales enjoyed while waiting for the only visit that he feels an emotional attachment to? Finally, this book was really 'Chasing Cherrapunjee'.
In this book, Theroux presents an India experience far removed from anything the grand India tourism machinery would like the world to have. And certainly one that will enrage anyone already irritated by 'The White Tiger' and offended by 'Slumdog Millionaire'.
The book has three stories, very mildly inter linked, of Americans exposed to the worst India has to offer - sleazy prostitutes, depraved co workers, fawning subordinates, grasping socialites. And the big one -POVERTY!!! The Americans rapidly degenerate into victims of one kind or another, easily exploited by conniving locals for sex and unlimited 'baksheesh'.
In 'Monkey Hill', a middle-aged couple at a fancy spa lose the immunity of white skin and dollars when they cross the line with some employees. In 'Elephanta Suite', a visiting lawyer, initially fearful of the water, the food and the people, feels freed of his inhibitions in a series of sexual encounters with prostitutes. And the young tourist in 'Elephant-headed God' (I think, can't remember the exact title), who is stalked and raped by an obnoxious co-worker, and then practically abandoned by law and locals alike, finds help and closure in the unlikeliest of places.
Some common themes run through the three stories - a gradual dissolving into bewilderment and alienation,a growing disillusionment with the people they meet and the experiences they have.Each of these characters feels isolated, threatened and ultimately used, by the people around them. Their India experience proves to be neither exotic nor exhilarating - it becomes an onslaught of grime, odour, depravity, greed, violence, cosmetic spirituality and really bad English.
And yet, I can't say I hated this book.Theroux's analysis of his characters - white and brown - is equally ruthless, but compelling. The book portrays Americans bearing the brunt of the way they are perceived by Indians. Their own responses are not always very smart, and the consequences always grim. Despite how unpleasant these stories were, I found myself curious to know how things would end for these rather hapless fish out of water. Yet with each story, the protagonists' response progresses a step forward - from fear, to calm acceptance to hitting back. The book does end with a very filmi climax,however, rather as if Theroux was getting a punch in for the Yankees.
Or he's a Hindi film fan.
By contrast, Chasing the Monsoon by Alexander Frater is much cheerier. Frater chronicles his travels on the heels of the Indian monsoon in the 1980s, a journey that starts in Kerala, works up to Goa and Mumbai and then on toward Delhi. Parallel to the story runs his recollections of his parents and grandfather, and their own ties with rain, life in tropical climes and this journey.The most significant part of this journey for Frater is a trip to Cherrapunjee,a dream his father had but never lived to fulfil. A large part of the book is thus devoted to Frater's struggles with the bureaucratic process that hinders his trip to Meghalaya, then going through civil unrest and army intervention. It takes him two trips to India before the necessary permission finally comes through and Frater then finds himself in a race against time to reach the town, hopefully experience some rain and then leave before his permit expires. Will he, won't he?
This is a quick read - humorous, though not a laugh riot like Bill Bryson. It is peppered with all the usual colourful characters that are the mainstay of most tourism writing about India - bad drivers, gregarious socialites, weird mendicants, difficult civil servants. Also pimps, devotees of the BBC who would like to migrate to the UK, and a steady stream of strangely verbose fellow travellers. Did I mention bad drivers?
Frater does talk of poverty, corruption and the colossal failure of urban infrastructure in India.But his descriptions are never harsh. And in his writing, the monsoon becomes a character in itself, a wilful creature- loved ,romanticized or hated by people depending on their economic circumstances,capable of toppling governments by being fashionably late, still inspiring mass yagnas, ridiculous inventions and even human sacrifices in her crazed devotees.
In the end, however, I had to ask, what was the point? And was this really a chase, as much as a series of rain baths in picturesqe locales enjoyed while waiting for the only visit that he feels an emotional attachment to? Finally, this book was really 'Chasing Cherrapunjee'.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
A House for Mr Biswas, by V. S. Naipaul
I never thought to read this book or any fiction by Naipaul, until I saw this terrific post , likening one of Naipaul's books to a Gerald Durrell comedy. Really!!!! Wasn't Naipaul this grim, unsmiling guy who was terribly critical of everything and everybody? Could he possibly have anything humorous to say?
I am happy to be proven wrong. 'Mr Biswas' is hilarious, chronicling the life and endless trials of this luckless and rather ridiculous man,t rying to get ahead in rural Trinidad (I imagined Raghuvir Yadav playing him in the TV movie in my head) . A rather feeble attempt at flirtation ends up with Biswas getting married, and bound for life to the rather horrible Tulsi family, an enormous clan that he despises, yet is obliged to live with and even depend on for housing and a livelihood. Trapped in the crush of all these people, he struggles to find his space (in more than just the physical sense), and a house of his own becomes his ultimate ambition . Several times he tries to break away from the Tulsis, but is invariably forced to return, usually in extremely humiliating circumstances.Biswas' only weapon is his sharp tongue which he wields to defend himself and vent his barely concealed rage, though rarely with much success.
Biswas is not a very likable character- a bumbling ass, prone to hasty decisions and some really bad choices, and destined to suffer the consequences of these. He seldom conducts himself with dignity, and is the focus of much of the Tulsi clan's ridicule - a classic underdog. Yet Naipaul chronicles his life and misfortunes with such gentle humour that I found myself hooked to the story, and hoping he would land on his feet. Slowly Biswas does begin to assert himself. He talks himself into a job with a local paper that gradually helps him earn a standing of sorts with the Tulsis. More important, he finally begins to bond with his children. His dream of a house of his own eludes him for much of the book, but does come true eventually, though not without its own hassles.
This book is built on details - the little squabbles between the Tulsis, the rivalry that filters down from parents to kids, the elaborate dramatics the women get into, to manipulate household politics. It is truly a Gerald Durrell like caper.It also reminded me of Dickens' Pickwick Papers, another great book about bumbling but harmless characters made memorable by their individual quirks.
By the way, as a result of watching me get through this book, the Imp now mimics me by opening up a book at random, then throwing back her head and cackling wildly. Sadly, it's a pretty good impression, and will definitely end up being recorded on K's phone for our grandchildren to watch. If I annoy him enough, maybe even Youtube.
Sir Vidia, I blame you entirely.
I am happy to be proven wrong. 'Mr Biswas' is hilarious, chronicling the life and endless trials of this luckless and rather ridiculous man,t rying to get ahead in rural Trinidad (I imagined Raghuvir Yadav playing him in the TV movie in my head) . A rather feeble attempt at flirtation ends up with Biswas getting married, and bound for life to the rather horrible Tulsi family, an enormous clan that he despises, yet is obliged to live with and even depend on for housing and a livelihood. Trapped in the crush of all these people, he struggles to find his space (in more than just the physical sense), and a house of his own becomes his ultimate ambition . Several times he tries to break away from the Tulsis, but is invariably forced to return, usually in extremely humiliating circumstances.Biswas' only weapon is his sharp tongue which he wields to defend himself and vent his barely concealed rage, though rarely with much success.
Biswas is not a very likable character- a bumbling ass, prone to hasty decisions and some really bad choices, and destined to suffer the consequences of these. He seldom conducts himself with dignity, and is the focus of much of the Tulsi clan's ridicule - a classic underdog. Yet Naipaul chronicles his life and misfortunes with such gentle humour that I found myself hooked to the story, and hoping he would land on his feet. Slowly Biswas does begin to assert himself. He talks himself into a job with a local paper that gradually helps him earn a standing of sorts with the Tulsis. More important, he finally begins to bond with his children. His dream of a house of his own eludes him for much of the book, but does come true eventually, though not without its own hassles.
This book is built on details - the little squabbles between the Tulsis, the rivalry that filters down from parents to kids, the elaborate dramatics the women get into, to manipulate household politics. It is truly a Gerald Durrell like caper.It also reminded me of Dickens' Pickwick Papers, another great book about bumbling but harmless characters made memorable by their individual quirks.
By the way, as a result of watching me get through this book, the Imp now mimics me by opening up a book at random, then throwing back her head and cackling wildly. Sadly, it's a pretty good impression, and will definitely end up being recorded on K's phone for our grandchildren to watch. If I annoy him enough, maybe even Youtube.
Sir Vidia, I blame you entirely.
Monday, January 19, 2009
A week of plenty
Yes, clearly someone is playing hooky from work, and bingeing out on paperbacks. Spent all of last week reading, moaning about being unable to proceed on the project I'm currently on, then reading some more.
And here's what I read:
The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, by John Boyne
(Image: www.amazon.com)
Nine year old Bruno is not happy. His Father, who works for someone called the Fury has taken him away from his friends and the big house in Berlin to live in a desolate place called Out-with. Lonely and bored,Bruno begins to explore this strange new place until one day he meets a little boy on the other side of the fence.- a boy in striped pyjamas.
This story, of the friendship between a concentration camp inmate and the son of the man running it, is told entirely from Bruno's perspective, a boy who doesn't really understand what is happening to people on the other side of that fence, has no clue that there is a war going on and that his father is a Nazi, involved in the Final Solution. In a moment of fear, Bruno commits an act of betrayal he feels guilty for. To make up for this, he decides to help his friend the only way he can, with staggering consequences.
The story never makes explicit the time, the location,even the strange dismal settlement that Bruno lives next to. The language is simple, the horror lies in what remains unsaid and must be pieced together by the reader. For me, this is where the power of the book lies. However, this also means that the story will be largely incomprehensible to anyone unaware of the events of World War II, especially the atrocities committed by the Nazis on millions of people across Europe.
Apparently, the story has been made into a film, which should be out shortly. I fully look forward to bawling my eyes out through it.
Rise and Shine, by Anna Quindlen
(Image courtesy: www.atrandom.com)
This is a book that's made for a TV movie,the kind you catch on HBO at 5am on a Saturday morning. It has all the right ingredients - two sisters, one rich and successful the other a social worker.The rich sister seems to have it all, until her husband leaves her.She has a very public meltdown, and only the poor sister can help her back. Other ingredients ... a gruff cop boyfriend who is the only one who sees both sisters for who they really are. A loud, tough talking black single mom. A very good son who has something very bad happen to him. And all of glorious New York in the background. Can't you just see it? You could probably even cast it in your mind.
It's written well, though this is not a book I'm going to remember for very long, simply because it has played out with so many variations, so many times before. Yes, mostly on HBO's red eye slot. The blurbs on the back of the book scream that this is Quindlen at her finest, but I have no way of knowing, as this is my first time reading her.Nonetheless, it kept me hooked. Predictable, but still enjoyable.
Bringing Back Grandfather, by Anjali Banerjee
(Image courtesy: www.penguinbooksindia.com)
This is an old favourite of mine, from the great stash of kids' books I buy now for when the Imp is older,because these little gems may no longer be in stock then. At least, that is my excuse.
Anu's beloved grandfather dies while they are out birdwatching in the woods, and Anu decides to get him back. With the help of his friends,he embarks on a series of 'holy' escapades that include shaving his head, rolling to school and visiting graveyards.
I love this story, at once hilarious and touching, of a boy coming to terms with the loss of a loved one, and his own guilt.Along the way, he makes new friends and discovers his own strengths. The lives of Indians abroad is a recurring theme in the author, Anjali Banerjee's, work and it's handled well here as well.
The Tehelka Original Fictions issue (Jan 10 2009, vol. 6, Issue 1)
(Image courtesy: www.tehelka.com)
I'd been looking out for this ever since I read about it here.Predictably,the demigods at Crossword had not even heard of the magazine.Finally got lucky at a tiny news stand on the platform of Kanjur Marg station. The theme of the issue is 'Excess' a single word brief that 15 writers have explored in a very diverse range of short stories.
I liked the stories by Mridula Koshy and Anjum Hasan, both about children. Other stories I enjoyed were Rajorshi Chakraborti's 'The Good Boy' which unravels the truth behind a young boy's suicide ,and Kalpish Ratna's dark 'Strawberries are White'. Felt a bit befuddled by Manjula Padmanabhan's 'Feast' at first, about a vampire that has, quite literally, a life changing experience in India. This story, like her 'Kleptomania' is hinged around a rather lengthy explanatory dialogue - a device that I find rather exhausting. I like a story that drops subtler hints, and makes me work a little at getting them. Nevertheless, a good story and an interesting point made.
The worst piece of writing here...the foreword by Tarun Tejpal. I was utterly gobsmacked by statements like "..The world begins to fall into an Orwellian nightmare when everyone is endlessly consuming the exact same cookie-cutter slices of reality." Huh?!! And elsewhere "...halogen of self-aggrandizement"(!!!)...... then again, perfectly aligned with the theme of the issue.
Interestingly, there are two graphic novelists featured - Sarnath Banerjee (the Big Daddy of graphic novels in India) and a favourite of mine, Amruta Patil.In fact I liked her little story a lot better than his, it has her characteristic wit, great dialogue, packs a punch at the end. Do read her graphic novel 'Kari'if you can. I also liked the graphics in the issue, especially the work of Sudeep Chaudhuri on stories like 'Rosie' and 'Hanging on like Death'.
Overall, a good afternoon's read, and an issue I hope they make into a regular feature.
Meanwhile...
The Imp and I are also enjoying a Dr Seuss bonanza! Current favourites without which we just cannot sleep, are:
Scrambled Eggs Super, about the making of
Scrambled eggs super - de Dooper - de - Booper,
Special deluxe a la Peter T Hooper!
Thidwick the Big-Hearted Moose, about the pitfalls of being a gracious host, and ...
I Had Trouble getting to Solla Sollew,
where we learn that ..
There are troubles of more than one kind.
Some come from ahead
And some come from behind.
I think I enjoy reading these aloud even more than the Imp enjoys hearing them!
(Image courtesy for all Dr Seuss books: www.fireandwater.com)
Ok, now I will go fight the dark forces of imminent unemployment that hover at my door.
And here's what I read:
The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, by John Boyne(Image: www.amazon.com)
Nine year old Bruno is not happy. His Father, who works for someone called the Fury has taken him away from his friends and the big house in Berlin to live in a desolate place called Out-with. Lonely and bored,Bruno begins to explore this strange new place until one day he meets a little boy on the other side of the fence.- a boy in striped pyjamas.
This story, of the friendship between a concentration camp inmate and the son of the man running it, is told entirely from Bruno's perspective, a boy who doesn't really understand what is happening to people on the other side of that fence, has no clue that there is a war going on and that his father is a Nazi, involved in the Final Solution. In a moment of fear, Bruno commits an act of betrayal he feels guilty for. To make up for this, he decides to help his friend the only way he can, with staggering consequences.
The story never makes explicit the time, the location,even the strange dismal settlement that Bruno lives next to. The language is simple, the horror lies in what remains unsaid and must be pieced together by the reader. For me, this is where the power of the book lies. However, this also means that the story will be largely incomprehensible to anyone unaware of the events of World War II, especially the atrocities committed by the Nazis on millions of people across Europe.
Apparently, the story has been made into a film, which should be out shortly. I fully look forward to bawling my eyes out through it.
Rise and Shine, by Anna Quindlen(Image courtesy: www.atrandom.com)
This is a book that's made for a TV movie,the kind you catch on HBO at 5am on a Saturday morning. It has all the right ingredients - two sisters, one rich and successful the other a social worker.The rich sister seems to have it all, until her husband leaves her.She has a very public meltdown, and only the poor sister can help her back. Other ingredients ... a gruff cop boyfriend who is the only one who sees both sisters for who they really are. A loud, tough talking black single mom. A very good son who has something very bad happen to him. And all of glorious New York in the background. Can't you just see it? You could probably even cast it in your mind.
It's written well, though this is not a book I'm going to remember for very long, simply because it has played out with so many variations, so many times before. Yes, mostly on HBO's red eye slot. The blurbs on the back of the book scream that this is Quindlen at her finest, but I have no way of knowing, as this is my first time reading her.Nonetheless, it kept me hooked. Predictable, but still enjoyable.
Bringing Back Grandfather, by Anjali Banerjee (Image courtesy: www.penguinbooksindia.com)
This is an old favourite of mine, from the great stash of kids' books I buy now for when the Imp is older,because these little gems may no longer be in stock then. At least, that is my excuse.
Anu's beloved grandfather dies while they are out birdwatching in the woods, and Anu decides to get him back. With the help of his friends,he embarks on a series of 'holy' escapades that include shaving his head, rolling to school and visiting graveyards.
I love this story, at once hilarious and touching, of a boy coming to terms with the loss of a loved one, and his own guilt.Along the way, he makes new friends and discovers his own strengths. The lives of Indians abroad is a recurring theme in the author, Anjali Banerjee's, work and it's handled well here as well.
The Tehelka Original Fictions issue (Jan 10 2009, vol. 6, Issue 1)(Image courtesy: www.tehelka.com)
I'd been looking out for this ever since I read about it here.Predictably,the demigods at Crossword had not even heard of the magazine.Finally got lucky at a tiny news stand on the platform of Kanjur Marg station. The theme of the issue is 'Excess' a single word brief that 15 writers have explored in a very diverse range of short stories.
I liked the stories by Mridula Koshy and Anjum Hasan, both about children. Other stories I enjoyed were Rajorshi Chakraborti's 'The Good Boy' which unravels the truth behind a young boy's suicide ,and Kalpish Ratna's dark 'Strawberries are White'. Felt a bit befuddled by Manjula Padmanabhan's 'Feast' at first, about a vampire that has, quite literally, a life changing experience in India. This story, like her 'Kleptomania' is hinged around a rather lengthy explanatory dialogue - a device that I find rather exhausting. I like a story that drops subtler hints, and makes me work a little at getting them. Nevertheless, a good story and an interesting point made.
The worst piece of writing here...the foreword by Tarun Tejpal. I was utterly gobsmacked by statements like "..The world begins to fall into an Orwellian nightmare when everyone is endlessly consuming the exact same cookie-cutter slices of reality." Huh?!! And elsewhere "...halogen of self-aggrandizement"(!!!)...... then again, perfectly aligned with the theme of the issue.
Interestingly, there are two graphic novelists featured - Sarnath Banerjee (the Big Daddy of graphic novels in India) and a favourite of mine, Amruta Patil.In fact I liked her little story a lot better than his, it has her characteristic wit, great dialogue, packs a punch at the end. Do read her graphic novel 'Kari'if you can. I also liked the graphics in the issue, especially the work of Sudeep Chaudhuri on stories like 'Rosie' and 'Hanging on like Death'.
Overall, a good afternoon's read, and an issue I hope they make into a regular feature.
Meanwhile...
The Imp and I are also enjoying a Dr Seuss bonanza! Current favourites without which we just cannot sleep, are:
Scrambled Eggs Super, about the making of
Scrambled eggs super - de Dooper - de - Booper,
Special deluxe a la Peter T Hooper!
Thidwick the Big-Hearted Moose, about the pitfalls of being a gracious host, and ...I Had Trouble getting to Solla Sollew,
where we learn that .. There are troubles of more than one kind.
Some come from ahead
And some come from behind.
I think I enjoy reading these aloud even more than the Imp enjoys hearing them!
(Image courtesy for all Dr Seuss books: www.fireandwater.com)
Ok, now I will go fight the dark forces of imminent unemployment that hover at my door.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Kiran Nagarkar's Cuckold
I am not a history buff. I like to read about ordinary people or of characters who shaped the course of history and created the men in power. But sadly, so few writers want to talk of them.
When I got a chance to read Kiran Nagarkar's Cuckold, I was expecting yet another story of kings and the wars they fought. And on one level it is exactly that. It is the story of the Rajput kingdom of Mewar at the height of its power. There are ongoing wars with the Sultanates of Delhi, Gujarat and Malwa. We hear of the arrival of Babar in India.
But the story is presented through the eyes and voices of a lost generation, the generation that came after Rana Sangha and before the advent of Babur's dynasty. So while feeling a deep desire to throw terms like bringing the margin to the center at you, I shall desist and simply say that the book gives you history as it happened from many different perspectives. For example, Babar is presented through letters he has written, so a distant historical figure becomes more real, more human.
There are stories within stories as well. There is the story of the war of succession between the Rana Sangha's sons. Palace intrigue, manipulation, violence.... Kiran Nagarkar shows it all.
Yet another story and the one that gives the book the name is that of the triangle between the Maharaj Kumar (the Crown Prince) and his wife and her divine lover. This book is also the story of how one of India's most famous saints was created - Meerabai.
As a saint, she is immortalized in every medium but what of her life before attaining sainthood? We read of her husband's frustration at having to compete with a god for his wife's affections, a battle that he is doomed to lose. The ridicule Meera herself is subjected to and her gradual ascent from cuckolding wife to 'little saint' is documented interestingly enough to make this book a page turner.
And what of the Maharaj Kumar himself? A beautiful, young wife whom he is desperately in love with but who refuses to acknowledge him as her husband, the constant skirmishes with his brothers, the actual wars he goes to fight as a representative of his father... and the fact that his ideas are so advanced for the age he is in all make him both heroic and pitiable.
It is difficult to talk of this book without gushing about it. All I can say is that it grabs you by the collar and refuses to let you go till you unwillingly reach the last page...
Kiran Nagarkar had won the Sahitya Akademi award for Cuckold. His other book, 'Ravan and Eddie' is equally amazing. Do read both of them when you get the chance.
When I got a chance to read Kiran Nagarkar's Cuckold, I was expecting yet another story of kings and the wars they fought. And on one level it is exactly that. It is the story of the Rajput kingdom of Mewar at the height of its power. There are ongoing wars with the Sultanates of Delhi, Gujarat and Malwa. We hear of the arrival of Babar in India.
But the story is presented through the eyes and voices of a lost generation, the generation that came after Rana Sangha and before the advent of Babur's dynasty. So while feeling a deep desire to throw terms like bringing the margin to the center at you, I shall desist and simply say that the book gives you history as it happened from many different perspectives. For example, Babar is presented through letters he has written, so a distant historical figure becomes more real, more human.
There are stories within stories as well. There is the story of the war of succession between the Rana Sangha's sons. Palace intrigue, manipulation, violence.... Kiran Nagarkar shows it all.
Yet another story and the one that gives the book the name is that of the triangle between the Maharaj Kumar (the Crown Prince) and his wife and her divine lover. This book is also the story of how one of India's most famous saints was created - Meerabai.
As a saint, she is immortalized in every medium but what of her life before attaining sainthood? We read of her husband's frustration at having to compete with a god for his wife's affections, a battle that he is doomed to lose. The ridicule Meera herself is subjected to and her gradual ascent from cuckolding wife to 'little saint' is documented interestingly enough to make this book a page turner.
And what of the Maharaj Kumar himself? A beautiful, young wife whom he is desperately in love with but who refuses to acknowledge him as her husband, the constant skirmishes with his brothers, the actual wars he goes to fight as a representative of his father... and the fact that his ideas are so advanced for the age he is in all make him both heroic and pitiable.
It is difficult to talk of this book without gushing about it. All I can say is that it grabs you by the collar and refuses to let you go till you unwillingly reach the last page...
Kiran Nagarkar had won the Sahitya Akademi award for Cuckold. His other book, 'Ravan and Eddie' is equally amazing. Do read both of them when you get the chance.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Down Under
I fell in love with Bill Bryson’s writing on the very first page of his most famous book, A Short History of Nearly Everything’. Here was a collection of essays on topics that, by his own admission, would bore the pants off most people, and yet never have obscure facts about bacteria , evolution and the history of science been more riveting, or more hilariously recounted. I’m happy to announce that with ‘Down Under’, a recounting of his travels through Australia, Bryson has kept our romance alive.
I’ve long been fascinated with Australia, home of kangaroos and wallabys, the famed Outback, the Sydney Opera House, Heath Ledger, Hugh Jackman and McLeod’s Daughters. And did anybody watch Coolangatta Gold when it aired , just once, on Doordarshan in the 90s? Or like singing along to Men At Work? But I digress. Suffice to say, this was a country that had much I found fascinating, yet about which I knew nothing beyond these iconic images.So the lure of this book.
With 'Down Under', prepare to enter a world of remote outposts like Woolloomooloo, Wollongong and Manjimup. Prepare also to spend long hours googling for images of Uluru, the Bungle Bungles and stromatolites, all examples of the natural wonders that the continent seems to burst at the gills with, and which I certainly had never heard of. This is a developed nation unlike any other – remote, with large tracts of land still uncharted, and abundant species of flora and fauna still unknown to science. A continent so sparsely populated that the Aum Shinrikyo may have set off a nuclear explosion that went four years without being noticed. And one where the chances of being killed by being mauled, stung or eaten by some lethal animal, insect or marine creature seem far greater than being hit by a bus. But prepare most of all, to read this book in isolation, because the hysterical laughter this book brings on may have you eyed strangely in (or even hauled out of) public places.
Bryson journeys through this harsh yet beautiful landscape with varying companions, exploring its corners and unearthing obscure facts. Along the way, he flirts with death by swimming with jellyfish, is chased across a park by dogs, variously befriends, shocks and offends the locals, contemplates drinking his own urine to survive in case he is stranded in the outback, and gets repeatedly drunk.
The book takes a sober turn when Bryson takes on the subject of the Aborigines, Australia’s invisible people. Never mind that evidence shows the Aborigines were technologically and organizationally advanced long before Australia had even been discovered by the Europeans, or that they have possibly the world’s longest living tradition in art. They were systematically butchered, driven off their lands and made the subject of extremely inhuman experiments supposedly meant to integrate them with the ‘main’ population. Here’s what Bryson writes;
“You don’t have to be a genius to work out that Aborigines are Australia’s greatest social failing. For virtually every indicator of prosperity and well-being – hospitalization rates, suicide rates, childhood mortality, imprisonment, unemployment, you name it – the figures for Aborigines range from twice as bad to upto twenty times worse than the general population.”
And elsewhere,
“ Over the past twenty years, successive governments have done quite a lot…….None of this has made any difference at all to the statistics. Some have actually got worse.”
What was really chilling for me here - replace ‘Australia’ with ‘India’ , replace the word ‘Aborigine’ with ‘Dalit’ or ‘Adivasis’ or the name for any of our other marginalized communities, and this passage would still largely hold true.
By the end of the book, Bryson still has a great deal left to see and no time to do this in.He ruefully admits that this great, far off continent will recede once more in his memory, a feeling most of us have probably felt at the end of a memorable trip. '..Once you leave Australia', Bryson says,' Australia ceases to be', a reference to its remoteness for most of us, and not just in terms of distance. Well,true, but atleast we have this book.
No I’m off to go google the Giant Worm of Gippsland.
The Roman Mysteries series
Book Blah is an idea that has been taking shape for a while now. And may have continued to be only in the imagination if it was not for Wordjunkie. You see she is sharp not just of features but also of tongue. So here I am writing my book review.
To commemorate the launch of book blah or maybe because I got them in the post today, I am giving away five librarywala gift vouchers. Using them will mean you need not pay the registration fee. What do I get in return, you ask? Well, actually if you tell them I gave you the gift vouchers, they will waive off my membership fee as well. I have used this library for a year now and have absolutely no complaints. So if you live in Mumbai and love a good book, send me a line...
Caroline Lawrence - The Roman Mysteries series
Set in 79 AD, the series are the adventure filled stories of four children. These are not Enid Blyton characters, fresh with the innocence of childhood and hence a limited world view. These are children who have seen the darker side of life - there is Flavia, the ace investigator, Nubia, the ex slave girl, Jonathan, a practicing Christian at a time when Christianity itself was frowned upon and Lupus, the boy who cannot speak. Behind each of them lies a fascinating story that unravels as you read the series.
And don't be fooled by the first century setting. History here is never served as a separate lesson but as part of the plot. Historical events like the sacking of Jerusalem and the eruption of Pompeii are narrated as personal events in the life of the characters. And as we watch them struggle to survive such huge catastrophes, I, for one, forgot the distance in time....
Ancient festivals like the Saturnalia become a setting for the past paced action. The children meet and discover the world of slave traders, pirates, gladiators - all a a big part of life in Rome but always shown in relation to Flavia and her friends.
I started reading the series, which will eventually grow to 17 books because I love Greek and Roman history but as the growing popularity of the series shows, there is enough to attract many different kinds of readers.
Meticulously researched, cleverly crafted, these books are recommended for anyone who likes fast paced action or whodunits and a peep into another era.
BBC has apparently already done a TV series on the books. For information about the books, go here.
POSTED BY NITYA
To commemorate the launch of book blah or maybe because I got them in the post today, I am giving away five librarywala gift vouchers. Using them will mean you need not pay the registration fee. What do I get in return, you ask? Well, actually if you tell them I gave you the gift vouchers, they will waive off my membership fee as well. I have used this library for a year now and have absolutely no complaints. So if you live in Mumbai and love a good book, send me a line...
Caroline Lawrence - The Roman Mysteries series
Set in 79 AD, the series are the adventure filled stories of four children. These are not Enid Blyton characters, fresh with the innocence of childhood and hence a limited world view. These are children who have seen the darker side of life - there is Flavia, the ace investigator, Nubia, the ex slave girl, Jonathan, a practicing Christian at a time when Christianity itself was frowned upon and Lupus, the boy who cannot speak. Behind each of them lies a fascinating story that unravels as you read the series.
And don't be fooled by the first century setting. History here is never served as a separate lesson but as part of the plot. Historical events like the sacking of Jerusalem and the eruption of Pompeii are narrated as personal events in the life of the characters. And as we watch them struggle to survive such huge catastrophes, I, for one, forgot the distance in time....
Ancient festivals like the Saturnalia become a setting for the past paced action. The children meet and discover the world of slave traders, pirates, gladiators - all a a big part of life in Rome but always shown in relation to Flavia and her friends.
I started reading the series, which will eventually grow to 17 books because I love Greek and Roman history but as the growing popularity of the series shows, there is enough to attract many different kinds of readers.
Meticulously researched, cleverly crafted, these books are recommended for anyone who likes fast paced action or whodunits and a peep into another era.
BBC has apparently already done a TV series on the books. For information about the books, go here.
POSTED BY NITYA
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Meanwhile, Upriver
Bookblah has its own blog now, thanks entirely to Nitya's exertions over one long afternoon of her life that ain't ever coming back! So, starting all over again here..
Meanwhile, Upriver is written by Chatura Rao, a name I'd earlier seen in anthologies for children , and is marked as her debut novel for adults.
I discovered this little book through a two line review in some tabloid I normally never bother to read. And am the gladder for it, because this was one of the better books I read last year. I've also always been fascinated by temple towns, for reasons far removed from personal faith, and this book has some beautiful descriptions of the grande dame herself, Benaras. I am also a sucker for stories about children, and with feisty female characters, and this book scores on both counts.
Meanwhile.. traces the stories of two social misfits living in Benaras. Yamini is a thirty eight year old spinster, lonely and overweight She tends to her ailing father, teaches math at a local school, befriends stray dogs and beggars, fights for animal rights and keeps everybody else at bay with her sharp tongue. Shiva is an eleven year old orphan, found abandoned on the ghats and raised by Bhyom Baba, a local sadhu with aspirations to power. The boy worships his adoptive father, yet longs for the mother he has never known. The stories play out against the backdrop of the annual Ramlila, and the power struggles between rival ashram groups in the city.
Shiva bags the role of Hanuman and befriends Shantanu,the quiet young boy chosen to play Sita.Yamini finds herself reluctantly drawn to a man researching the city, even as she becomes slowly aware of the quiet strengths of a suitor she has rejected long ago.Then, things begin to fall apart. Communal tension rears its ugly head. The rivalry between the ashram factions seeps down into the younger members, and Shiva and his friend pay a terrible price for this. Yamini finds love, then loses it.Shiva gradually discovers sinister aspects to the man he considers his father. And on one dark night, when the two lonely protagonists wash up on the steps of the ghat, they finally meet.
If I had to use one word to describe the language of this book, it would have to be 'quiet'. This is finally a small story about small lives. There is restraint in the use of words, even in the stormier parts of the story. The descriptions of the city and the Ganga, are evocative - they encompass the filth as well as the beauty that makes a timeless. I liked the device of chapters alternating between the lives of the protagonists, intersecting every now and then.I loved the character of Yamini, this strong angry woman defiantly living her life in the face of social convention. And being also a sucker for happy endings, I liked the way the story ends gently and on an open note, as a ragtag family comes together in the aftermath of the violence unleashed on them. (No, no, this is no spoiler, but an invitation for fellow suckers).I even liked the sketch on the book cover, though not the choice of colours - deep blue, bright yellow - and the bombastic liner notes are in sharp contrast to the prose within.
Nevertheless, these were details easily overlooked for this sad, sweet story.
Meanwhile, Upriver is written by Chatura Rao, a name I'd earlier seen in anthologies for children , and is marked as her debut novel for adults.
I discovered this little book through a two line review in some tabloid I normally never bother to read. And am the gladder for it, because this was one of the better books I read last year. I've also always been fascinated by temple towns, for reasons far removed from personal faith, and this book has some beautiful descriptions of the grande dame herself, Benaras. I am also a sucker for stories about children, and with feisty female characters, and this book scores on both counts.
Meanwhile.. traces the stories of two social misfits living in Benaras. Yamini is a thirty eight year old spinster, lonely and overweight She tends to her ailing father, teaches math at a local school, befriends stray dogs and beggars, fights for animal rights and keeps everybody else at bay with her sharp tongue. Shiva is an eleven year old orphan, found abandoned on the ghats and raised by Bhyom Baba, a local sadhu with aspirations to power. The boy worships his adoptive father, yet longs for the mother he has never known. The stories play out against the backdrop of the annual Ramlila, and the power struggles between rival ashram groups in the city.
Shiva bags the role of Hanuman and befriends Shantanu,the quiet young boy chosen to play Sita.Yamini finds herself reluctantly drawn to a man researching the city, even as she becomes slowly aware of the quiet strengths of a suitor she has rejected long ago.Then, things begin to fall apart. Communal tension rears its ugly head. The rivalry between the ashram factions seeps down into the younger members, and Shiva and his friend pay a terrible price for this. Yamini finds love, then loses it.Shiva gradually discovers sinister aspects to the man he considers his father. And on one dark night, when the two lonely protagonists wash up on the steps of the ghat, they finally meet.
If I had to use one word to describe the language of this book, it would have to be 'quiet'. This is finally a small story about small lives. There is restraint in the use of words, even in the stormier parts of the story. The descriptions of the city and the Ganga, are evocative - they encompass the filth as well as the beauty that makes a timeless. I liked the device of chapters alternating between the lives of the protagonists, intersecting every now and then.I loved the character of Yamini, this strong angry woman defiantly living her life in the face of social convention. And being also a sucker for happy endings, I liked the way the story ends gently and on an open note, as a ragtag family comes together in the aftermath of the violence unleashed on them. (No, no, this is no spoiler, but an invitation for fellow suckers).I even liked the sketch on the book cover, though not the choice of colours - deep blue, bright yellow - and the bombastic liner notes are in sharp contrast to the prose within.
Nevertheless, these were details easily overlooked for this sad, sweet story.
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