Book Journey: Revelations of an Imperfect Life (Sankhya Samhita)

Now! How easy is it to wallow in self-pity, to etch your victim story when life’s handed you a handful of lemons? It is a temptation, yes, most indeed. Common. And instinctive. To tell your stories, your way. In which you are the hero in it, and you the means and the end. And if you have been unhappy, that was their doing. There they were, doing things to you to make you feel that way. They owed you light and sunshine, did they not?

In several of the social forums while discussing issues around emotional abuse and midlife depression, I have often stopped midway and wondered about a question that raised its head above the righteous proclamations floating in the air. I have often asked: is it really a one-way traffic, this unhappiness? This prey and predator relationship - who does it begin with, and how does it snowball? How can we tell a case of incompatibility from a case of suffering, and a case of suffering from a case of abuse? Why do we stereo typecast so much, well knowing inside our hearts that, that quite is not the whole truth, that there is another side to every story?

Book Review: Kissing The Demon (Amrita Kumar)

Kissing the demon was one book for which, when asked to review, I did not have a single moment of dilemma. The very fact that an author has authored something, a handbook of sorts, for the benefit of others to use and follow, was enough reason to leap and grab it. And if not enough, the brief bio of the author establishes beyond a speck of doubt her eligibility to do so, clear and confident. So frankly, it was not a book to be reviewed. It was one to be learned from. 

The subject matter contained in the different areas of writing carry a distinct tone of knowledge, wisdom as well as humour. Quotations, motivations and analogies from all over of the broad vastness of English literature, complemented with insights and suggestions from real life experiential collections… the "voice" grows not just in strength but also by warmth. It is conversational, almost, how it shows what works, what doesn't, and what can, should, must be looked at. Wit is aplenty, plus the confidence of self-depreciation in stories, examples, ideas.

Book Journey - Broken Open (Elizabeth Lesser)

This was first published at Writersmelon

Spirituality sounds like a big word, especially when you are twenty-three, and haven’t had any real crisis in your world so far. That was when I had first come across this book. The name on the cover read – Broken Open. And then there was a line below it, which read – "How Difficult Times Can Help US Grow."  I was yet to know what that may mean. And yet, I had turned over its pages.

The Peshwa (by Ram Sivasankaran)

When history is killed in printed letters from education board prescribed textbooks, it easily translates into simple quantum of scores upon annual marksheets. Good kings and bad kings, inheritances and battles, dates and events, problems causes and solutions. Lucky few chapters find resonance with stories told at home, like those of the freedom fighters, or those which stay for matters of future wisdom, the Indus Valley Civilization or the Joan of arc. For a thorough bong with adequate communal history to learn from and talk about, our exposure to kingdoms stayed sadly restricted to the famous Mughal lineage for its sheer magnificence, and to young king Sirajudullah on account of humane sympathy. The Maratha kingdom and its precise politics, sadly, never made a cut at a personal level until last year it jazzed up the silver screen. A compelling revelation, that they too fell in love and suffered, fought battles also of internal nature, sacrificed. And before the effect entirely faded, suddenly came by a chance for a commissioned book review, The Peshwa by Ram Sivasankaran.

Book Review: Forgotten affair (Kanchana Banerjee)

“A Forgotten affair” has a storyline with a rather unpredictable kickstart.

The prologues and the opening chapter throws a flash forward into a couple of snapshot scenes, showing us how the regular life of the protagonist characters are over certain new year eve party scenes. Past the prologue and just a couple of chapters, the book now opens into a scene in a hospital ward. A lady named Sagarika. An accident, a bomb blast in a local train. In Mumbai. A fatality. A cut mark on her head. A return from the dead. A journey, in which she has left her memory behind. A loss, unaccounted. Yet, has her past left her too?

Book Review: Graffitti (Joanie Pariera)

A commissioned review:


Flipping the very first chapter of “Graffitti’ over to the second had promised one thing loud and clear: that, this was not going to be just another book I read.  The scene description was abstract and yet impeccable, and the set-up had set you up for a journey which was going to be wonderful, and at the same time, witty. On one there was a fatal accident and a lone survivor waiting to hit the psychiatrist’s chamber and on the very next, there a girl - dropped jaw - watching her ex in a lip-lock with his current ‘boyfriend’ to ‘show and tell’ how he has managed to come out of the closet. The stories indeed make for quite a ride.

Book Review: 03:02 by Mainak Dhar

(A commissioned review)

What would you do, if one fine time in the middle of the night, time stops still? What would you do if one day you're cut out on stock, of food, water, medicines. Electricity. What if at one moment, at one sudden moment, the life that you raced so far comes to a surprise halt? What would you do if a science fiction terror thriller suddenly becomes the world?

Father of the Nation!

This post has also been published at YouthKiAwaaz and The Speaking Tree.

Once upon a time, there was a man. 

Father of the Nation and his "Experiments with Truth" - A reflection!

This post has also been published at YouthKiAwaaz and The Speaking Tree.

Once upon a time, there was a man. 

"Stories of Work, Life & Balance in Between" by Tomson Robert

Time again, for a commissioned review! This time, it is a simple, easy read of a book named as above, holding between its two covers a host of continuing short stories.

"The Honest Season: by Kota Neelima

A political drama, to be honest, was never my forte, and so I had been a little apprehensive while I was unwrapping the courier package this weekend. But there’s always a first time, I tried to boost up my morale, and thus I started. And then, I simple could not keep it down until 4 a.m. in the morning, which is when I finally turned its last page.

Life Mantras!! (Book Review)

As I sit myself down to write about this book as a part of a commissioned review exercise, it is not easy to remark on the overall, on what it could be and what it is not. On one hand, the title and the back cover had promised what could have been an inspiring set of life values that one may learn from a journey that, though tainted, has seemingly been quite a journey of someone who tried. However on the other, as much as you delve into its pages, what it seemed to reek off is what you hear the god-men or the astrologers often say to you in lieu of some dough, any time, any day.

Book Journey: You are the Best Wife (Ajay K Pandey)

A quick foreword in confessional honesty: This is my first ever commissioned book-review, and my approach was, well... As much as I was eager just before turning the first page, I was skeptical no less once I had done so, actually. It is someone’s first (only?) book, and is about – no wait, IS – a personal, live journal, a journey of existence till date. And more, it was a story of loss a loss of life, of his wife. And it reads like… it does! You see my reasons!

The book opened and began in a very five point someone style (Oh yes, I read it!). It spoke about the high school career threshold - the dreaded tug of ability and aspiration, moving on to the gateway - the admission process into Engineering college, warming up to ragging in hands of almighty seniors, et al almost in a similar way. Thereafter too, it quite follows the same, worn out in use trail – boy meets girl, fall in something they then call love, move along in life - together. A couple of years of hostel stay followed by a brief while of long-distance, marriage suggestions, caste differences and adequate scoops of “2 States” to a happy ending later, the story (and language too, almost) bears a very strong connotation of… well, you know what (rather, who?). It rises, falls and paves its path over the surface of incidents that are very, very commonplace - taking place just like they always do.

Jennifer

Every single time that I read Segal's "Love Story", I become Jennifer Cavilleri. No, true. I swear. I even compel myself to slow down, read not more than just a few pages a time, so that I can stay Jennifer for a longer time. I wish I could stay Jennifer, always.

Like, I want to be as smart, as no-nonsense, as she is. To have a reply at the end of my tongue, always. And, at the same time, tender.

"Hey, Jen..."
"Yeah?"
"Jen... what would you say if I told you..."
I hesitated. She waited.
"I think... I'm in love with you."
There was a pause. Then she answered very softly.
"I would say... you were full of shit."

I also have always wanted to make love like her.

"Jenny, for Christ's sake, how can I read John Stuart Mill when every single second I'm dying to make love to you?"
She screwed up her brow and frowned.
"Oh, Oliver, wouldja please?"
I was crouching by her chair. She looked back into her book.
"Jenny - "
She closed her book softly, put it down, then placed her hands on the sides of my neck.
"Oliver - wouldja please?"

And then, give in. Suddenly. Without logic and without preparation. Well, whatsoever!

"Who said anything about marriage?"
"Me. I'm saying it now."
You want to marry me?"
"Yes."
She tilted her head, did not smile, but merely inquired:
"Why?"
I looked her straight in the eye.
"Because," I said.
"Oh," she said. "that's a very good reason."

Oh, and my father and me!

"The bride speaks too?" he asked, almost as if this - of all things - might be the coup de grace.
"Phillip," said his daughter, "could you imagine any situation in which I would shut up?"
"No, baby," he replied, working up a tiny smile. "I guess you would have to talk."

And I wanted to conquer. Like her. Yes, even with mean means, like this:

"Are you jealous?" I asked straight out.
"No; I've got much better legs," she said.
"Can you write a brief?"
"Can she make lasagna?"
"Yes," I answered. "Matter of fact, she brought some over t Gannett House tonight. Everybody said they were as good a your legs."
Jenny nodded, "I'll bet."
"What do you say to that?" I said.
"Does Bella Landau pay your rent?" she asked.
"Damn," I replied, "why can't I ever quit when I'm ahead?"
"Because, Preppie," said my loving wife, "you never are."

These, and many things. Almost everything save for few, I guess.

And, even at thirty-two, I wait to die at twenty-five. Still.

"Would you please hold me very tight?" she asked.
I put my hand on her forearm - Christ, so thin - and gave it a little squeeze.
"No, Oliver," she said, "really hold me. Next to me."
I was very, very careful - of the tubes and things - as I got onto the bed with her and put my arms around her.
"Thanks, Ollie."

Those were her last words.


Well, I know it's an utterly stupid thought, and a ridiculously written out post. But I cannot help it.

And I am not saying sorry. Because,

Love means not ever having to say you are sorry.



PS: I know it's height of narcissism, but really, isn't it the best thing to happen to anyone? To be loved so, so much?

Book Journey - Big Apple 2 Bites, A novel of Love, 9/11 and Aikido

With a multitude of philosophical yet practical realisations at play, I am a little confused on where to start this essaying. So safe as it has always been, here comes a quote to set the onset. A sign-off at the end of one of those many letters that finally takes the theme of the story to its zenith.

 

"Yours truly in a false world,
Sen"

The story is about a young man, Sen as he is popularly called, and his journey through few brief years of his mid-prime. A young man on an onsite stint, his very practical take on his job and a rather impractical journey in love, and of the world called the United States as seen through his eyes.

But that is just the surface of it. And then, the story is also a dive into life, and with no escape. It dissects, explores and admits the ultimate truth of Dichotomy, Lies and make-beliefs that we live our lives on. The protagonist portrays, rather personifies, cynicism to an artistic level. And as the story unfolds, the author brings forth how layers of Lies and Truths interplay in life. As very rightly termed, it forms a state of "confused convictions".

The reading, or rather the ride, can be best described as a set of complex realisations. It strips your mind off the everyday hypocrisies, it pulls you by your inner conscience to face, finally, you own self. It asks you what you really wanted and tells what you denied yourself. But then, it trivializes; it relieves you of the weight. It says, perhaps, that nothing matters at the end. That - yes, we succumb, but that's acceptable. It threatens, and then it comforts. It exposes how shallow, meaningless it is to do what we all do all day every day, and how our lives are being wasted. But it then refrains from glorifying the other end. It warns of losing balance, a balance finely defined by the rules of lies that we live our lives with. Confused? Convincingly? Then, take this -

"Take my case. I make a very decent living selling processes to companies - a nauseating, dull way of making money full of loads and load of dhop one has to go through each day. But, why do I do it? Because I am not prepared to stand in a queue to get my single bucket of water for having a bath."

Scarily similar to you and me, no?

BUT. Then comes where I slightly disagree, as the protagonist goes on to say:

"And if I were born in this country, I would have loved to be a librarian... some job like that where you can literally spend your life among books. Because I know, even as a low wage earning professional, I would have a decent life. With my basic necessities satisfied."

Makes sense, and yet it doesn't. At least, not until we have defined these apparently juvenile terms like "decent life" and "basic necessities". Rather as we all know, the problem is not in defining them, but to remain content and constant at those definitions as you journey through your life. I know, I know, I sound like a cynic. Perhaps a little more than Sen himself. But then, for argument's sake, is everyone in the West content with their choices in life, huh? :)

Coming back to the novel.

I loved how the author has tried to ease up, if not simplify, our perspectives around the day-to-day complexities of work-life. I am happy that he did not resort to doing that also for our day-to-day non work-life. Of the matters of heart, and of friendships. Which, again that a cynic that I am, is perhaps meant only for a relief, not a reality, right?

I particularly liked the way 9/11 has been treated. Compassion, and at the same time, from a respectful distance. Something that as outsiders, we perhaps would never understand, even though we could be physically around the place incidentally around the same time. I did not understand much, but also liked, how Aikido has been explained and related back to nuances of life.

I loved how Hope has been weaved in, in this apparently cynic take on life. How, even as an escape, it helps to believe, that there is, indeed, another world, somewhere. There, things could be easier, truer. The quantum physics theory of multiple universes. Like Sen says in his letter to Allison,

"I will be glad just to fantasise that in some other parallel universe, chances were more in our favour."

And then signs off with -

"Yours in a parallel Universe,
Sen"

Semi-finally, what I loved a lot in the style of writing is the second-person narration. Unique, enjoyable, and seemed to optimise the distance and familiarity between the author and his protagonist. It's like sort of knowing a person at arm's distance, reading all his thoughts and expressions and yet not getting into the skin. Perfect. It seemed to act as conscience at times, too.

Finally, the humour content. I think it won't be an exaggeration to say that if philosophy is one pillar in this, humour is the other, just as strong. And each, without being balanced out by the other would not cook up the recipe that it is. . The humour is subtle and apt. It does not distract. It only helps to put things in perspective. In fact, without the humour, the reality the author drags us to face could have been too stark to stand. It also helps us to think that many things can be stood, bore, self-admitted and lived with, if we present them to ourselves in the light of humour.

Life is too serious to be talked about seriously, no? :)

And then, I come to my takeaway.

At the cost of simplifications, let's give it a shot. Well, Dichotomy (or rather Confusion), in short, is the problem we have to live with. There is no one answer to anything. Dichotomy remains the only reality, and there is hardly a way we can flee. And hence, as I personally conclude, detachment, possibly, is then the only answer! Laugh it away, that is.

Oh, and the "Corporate-cosmic chi of dhop". Classic!

As I sign-off, here is another of the many quotable lines that stays with me as I close on the last page of this pleasurable journey.

"In all this falsehood, there are moments when you wonder whether there is anything that is true in this world, anything not shrouded by the cloak of counterfeit. And when you do experience something that's true, you are afraid of it... It's almost too pure to survive."