Mythology, Realism, Magic! Take your pick...

Lately, I have been reading quite a bit of mythology or what I call a whole new world of modern mythology. Have noticed quite a few themes about the authors who have been delving into this world of magic mixed with science and reality.

We have come a long way from the time that Valmiki and Veda Vyasa wrote the Ramayan and the Mahabharat. And we would always have the erstwhile C Rajagopalcharis, Ashok Bankers and the Devdutt Patnaiks of course, equally wondrous and fascinating, but what makes the newest breed of authors different?

The Shiva Trilogy by Amish Tripathi, Govinda by Krishna Udayasankar, Asura by Anand Neelakantan or even The Krishna Key by Ashwin Sanghi are all different in their own right. They are adventuring into a new world of the not so godly gods, in all their avatars, but with a mixture of fascination and respect, I’m presuming, towards not just the text, but the entire theories in themselves.

There is all the talk of plots, adventures, action thrillers and even romance and sexual liaisons, all described with the same dexterity and ease, which one finds in the modern day novel, which probably has nothing to do with mythology. In fact, the language used in books by Amish, Neelakantan and Udayasankar; a mixture of modern terms and the age old words is fascinating.

What is it that makes them absorbing? It was probably the humour, which Amish writes with, or the anger which Anand Neelakantan shows towards Rama’s world, or it could be the smooth mannerisms of Krishna, which is put forward by Udayasankar and Sanghi.

There is a whole new set of opinions, whether it is creative storytelling or intelligent retelling. Call them what you will, interpretations or imagination they definitely make good reads. 

I was interested to know of the hint of romance between Draupadi - Krishna in Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s 'Palace of Illusions' and Govinda - Panchali in Udayasankar's Govinda. Also, the father/ daughter linkage of Ravana and Sita in Neelakantan’s 'Asura'. Or even the whole concept of the nuclear weapon and the Brahmastra, in Sanghi’s 'The Krishna Key'.

Of course, we might have heard in passing of these interesting facets to the story, but in these narratives, these plots are given a little breathing space, actually a whole new room, so as readers, we are allowed bits of our own imagination to take wing.

Book Review : 'Govinda' by Krishna Udayasankar

If you haven’t read the regular Amar Chitra Katha versions and your knowledge of the other Mahabharat versions is not well… sufficient, then you might be wasting your time reading this one. Krishna Udayasankar’s ‘Govinda’ is probably just another version of the epic.

What makes it different, are firstly, the simple yet almost lyrical language with which she writes it. One can almost see ACK volumes come up in the book; there were times when I almost stopped reading because I remembered how the scene played out in the comic. 

Firstly, the names. Govinda Shauri is of course, Krishna. Draupadi, who becomes the unlikely hero of the book is simply known as Panchali. Then of course, we have the Dharma, Bhim, Partha, Nakul and Sadev with the usual cast of characters, like Veda Vyasa, who is addressed as Krishna Dwaipayana. 

And a few surprises too. There are the Firewrights, First Born, the Secret Keepers, which are all characters, essential to the story of this book. Sounds straight out of the Lord of the Rings, doesn’t it? (The similarities are breath-taking but in another blog, perhaps)

We are introduced to the ‘fact’ that Rukmavati or the erstwhile Rukmini is not really Govinda’s wife, but his heir’s, Pradymna’s. One sees the fact that Govinda is not married nor will be, but his love for Panchali is very much there.  

It is not a fresh thought, especially if you have read Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s version of Draupadi’s Mahabharat, ‘The Palace of Illusions’. Yet something about the sequence of events grips one’s mind. Panchali’s role in this book has grown from the earlier shier versions into becoming not just another character, but a bow and a sword wielding heroine. 

She does not remain in the background as you are used to reading, but is the person to look to for politics and administration as you see her delving into her inner emotions of not just love but he affection and her intelligence, which shine through. 

There is the growth of Shikandin, from the half man/half woman character into a completely different role, of Govinda’s close friend, and also a warrior and a father of Yudhamanyu. It is probably best if one read this book, as a Mahabharata, which could/might have been. 

Logic, psychology, philosophy and science are all subjects which one has heard of, but never really associated them with Mahabharat per se.

Or where else would you see the Brahm weapon, which should come up again. And definitely Asvattama’s wider role, in the latter books, I’m guessing. Here’s looking forward to the rest of the Aryavarta Chronicles, and Udayasankar’s version of events. 

Book Review : 'Asura: Tale of the Vanquished - The Story of Ravana and his People' by Anand Neelakantan

What makes Anand Neelakantan’s ‘Asura: Tale of the Vanquished’ special? Is it the never ending prose, with which he describes Lanka’s emperor? Is it the words he uses to perhaps understand the man and his times? Or perhaps it is his views on the state of the country, the causes, and their results?

No. It is not. 

What truly makes it special is the effort with which, it was written. And the subject, which makes it all the more interesting. Ravana makes not just a subject in the book, but he carries it forth albeit, a little precariously. His views are put forth with a sense of justice, making him not the villain as he was always portrayed, but as a man, with all the views, values, and the ability to drive him over the edge, on which he stood.

The story begins with watching him die. The End. But with very poignant words, when Ravana says with true regret, “I only wanted to return to my childhood and start over again, every single damn thing, again, again and again…”

He goes on to describe who he was, what happened and what could have happened. The one thing that struck me is how much it reminded me of a history text book, pages and pages of history almost being lectured to me. There are pages, I felt could have been done away with.

But still, I read on. So many parts of mythology, which I did not know, never read and probably was  never interested in. Rama’s society takes on an evil note, but so does Ravana’s. I met characters all over again. Characters, whom I wold not have read about, or given any importance to in the Ramayana. But while reading the Ravanayana, you are forced to give them all another thought.

Of Ravana’s wife, of his sister, of his friend, of his sons both illegitimate and otherwise. And of Ravana’s first born, of his daughter, Sita. I was interested to know of so many wonders of Lanka, of the wonders of medicine, architecture, and arms, and contraptions like the Pushpaka Viman. It had me in awe.

A good book, with so much potential falls short. Falls short by its length, and one can see that the author’s words in a few areas are so ill-written, that it reads as if it were a lecture. I think that the book could have been written, if the author had forgotten to lecture his audience. Though it is well meant and is almost close to every human being’s thought process, it loses its essence.

Yet, I bought it and read it.

Because of the protagonist. Curiosity got the better of me, and I could see the reasons behind the decisions. The decision of a man and his words, “…, God is a very personal thing and prayer needs to be spoken silently in my heart.”

Book Review : 'The Book Thief' by Markus Zusak

It has been a long time since I took the time to write. I mean really write. Words had stopped flowing from my fingers, thoughts refused to touch my mind.

Was it the end?

It seemed so until that day when I walked into a bookstore. And I saw it. It wasn’t doing much. It just lay there probably placed by somebody, who was tired of browsing, placed by someone sickened of reading about death, left behind by a reader who read the blurb, and never gave it another thought. 

But I think you, my dear book and I should not give it such an abrupt end. Because then how would I have found you? I just happened to be there, just going through the books, while you lay in the corner, never asking, and never begging, for me to read you. But what was it about you? What was it, that drew me back to you at least three times, and what was it that forced you into my hands? 

I do not know, now would I want to, just that you are in my hands. You were literally placed into my hands; I was forced to run my fingers across your pages. Never in a hurry was I to finish you.

I have never heard of the author, much less read any of his stories. Why do I have you? Was it you, Death, who wanted your story told to me, was it you? I’d like to believe so.

I felt pretty much like the Book Thief, when I had finished it here in this room, a week later. I did not pay for you. Yet, you are here. With me, on my bed, and in my slumber, haunted by words, haunted by your words, Markus Zusak. 

Do you want me to thank you then, do you want me to say the words that have been hovering on my lips for days, do you want me to tell you that if it wasn’t for you, words would probably never have come out again? Do you want me to tell you that your book did not make me cry? I did not shed tears, nor did I feel like telling you to go on and on filling my nights and days? Do you?

I think I just felt you telling me that you were there for me. That you would not rest, and would not stop. I have a feeling that I must tell you, that this book has probably filled my life, emptying the emptiness out of it. And asked me to never be scared again, of anything. 

When Death told me this story, I had to listen, really had to. Nazi Germany, an orphaned child, a best friend, parents and love, all just things which came in the way of you telling me this story. 

So, read it now if you must, and tell me if this story has touched you. Not your heart, or your mind. But, if it at any point, truly touched you.

So, why did you come to me, you book thief, you?

Book Review : 'The Sins of the Father', by Jeffrey Archer

Jeffrey Archer’s second instalment of The Clifton Chronicles is a rarity. A rarity, not because of Archer’s usual literary talents, whether in jail or without. What he managed to build carefully, composedly, and methodically in his earlier book, ‘Only Time Will Tell’, all comes apart carefully, composedly with the same method, in this one. 

What made it so brilliant was the end of the book. I personally felt there could not have been a better finish. Though sad, it managed to touch you. You could not imagine it better, even though you would have liked a different but happy ending, you wanted Harry to marry Emma, yet you could not wrap your head around it. Sadly, neither could Archer.

He wrote, ‘The Sins of the Father’ and used the same care to ruin the effect of the first book. In the first book, he wrote about Harry Clifton, a truly nice guy (there are no better words to describe him, I could say a lot, but it would not take away, that much), who unfortunately is the victim of circumstances, leading him away from his almost wife and into jail. Again, I was saddened a little more because of the fact that he landed up in jail, when he could have met his maker. 

But unfortunately, this maker laid his hands on him first, Archer i.e.

And led him away from death into another series. Which, fortunately had quite a bit of Archer’s notes from jail, the only saving grace of this part of the series. It is with remarkable understanding, and empathy does he write the notes, which only he could have, thanks to his stint in jail (Remember his Prison Diaries).

It was a truly a tragedy, that which described Clifton and Emma Barrington’s lives. Clifton in jail and then released thanks to Emma’s efforts and his newly found talent (that of a writer). Now, we will have to wait to see what Archer does to his protagonists. I thought that life in jail had made him more sensitive, which I found in the first part, as well as his earlier book, ‘Paths of Glory’. They had a certain empathy to the nature of his characters. 

Here’s hoping for the best, in the sequel, hopefully his last bid at saving Clifton’s life and the book!

Never give up: Fairness Creams in India??

Earlier, there was a time when I'd watch a fairness cream ad and roll my eyes, and change the channel. Sigh and give up. Now, I am just mad. 

Yesterday I was at a lunch, where a lady was describing her perfect daughter-in-law. She should be fair, she said. While her dark husband was nodding, beside her.

Now, I know, that's an age old line and we must be tired of it. But what I fail to understand is why? Why would you want your daughter in law, or your daughter, or niece, or friend's kid to be fair?? 

Why the hell is it your business? Or even the business of television?

Every day, I am put through a series of ads, Vaseline, Fair and Lovely, Garnier, etc. I guess the best you can say is that, in these ads, they are not trying to discriminate. Men and women are treated equally alike. They are all supposedly looked down upon because they are all dark! So, SRK 's Fair and Handsome or Priyanka's Garnier are pretty much the same piece of crap!! Or perhaps, a better job, or success at different events! All because of your daily fairness cream.

And then they are our only chance at love too! Because, from what I see, that is the only chance we have. Be fair and lovely and automatically, you can miraculously find your fair and handsome man! Or else... 

Or you could make coffee best, if you are white enough! As the wife does for her husband in some silly powder ads, for a whiter tone!!! Drinking Coffee can cause darkness too, I think, so why not come with a white coffee?

White, fair! I think it is high time we realised that Indians could only be wheatish at best, or even better, dark or the colour of chocolate! (Or maybe white chocolate, perhaps at the rate at which the ads are going.  As if we have no dearth of photoshops to make us all look fair.)

The problem with these ads is that they are failing to serve their purpose! That is to show that darkness caused by tanning can be lost by using these products, temporarily! It is a different issue, if you are fair, naturally! What are these ads trying to tell us? Kajol, who is of dark skin, and who once proudly wore it, is now a victim of a product, which automatically makes her fairer! Seriously, if one saw the ad, one can easily tell! The use of a graphic editing program, is eye boggling! The product does offer much more, but the entire purpose is lost considering her 'fair' skin. You are left wondering what is what!

Otherwise, we can all just sit at home and give up our taste of  Vitamin D. The sun rays strike the skin and stimulate the forming of cholecalciferol. This can be imporatant, and is best in the early mornings or late afternoons. Not in the afternoon's blazing sun, mind you!

Cholecalciferol is a vitamin D3. Vitamin D can help absorb calcium from the stomach and for the  calcium functioning in us. It can be used in treating or preventing conditions of the skin or bones. This is only an example, but my point remains.

A quantity of the compound, Melanin, which is present in our skin determines our skin colour. Melanin is up in areas, where people live close to the equator or where the climate is hot, receive a lot of sunlight, and with sunlight also come the UV rays. Due to this exposure to sun, the skin protects itself, through the process of melanin production. This gives the skin, a colour. In fact, the blacker your skin is, the less the chance is, of you getting skin cancer!

A chemical compound called  hydroquinone, which is found in most of the lightening creams and acts as an inhibitor. So, basically, melanin does not appear as fast if you use this. But the use could cause skin diseases, which is why it has been prevented in European countries.

 

Alternatives to it could be mulberry, white mulberry, paper mulberry, fruits, kojic acid, vitamin C etc. They inhibit the melanin production or take out a layer of the skin and in turn exposing new skin. You could try reading this up on http://www.thegeminigeek.com/do-fairness-creams-really-work/ for more.

Reasons such as wounds or genetic problems could also be the cause of us being dark. We can stop blaming the dark parent!

 

Why should we be fair? If we can find a superb way to still be ANY colour or if we can find ways to show that such products are superficial, and colour would show up, when you stop using them, that would be a brilliant ad. And I look forward to them. Kudos to Aish Rai who refused to so such ads!

Apparently, there are ads for skin whitening to the private parts as well! Just when you think you have said enough! Really? You want this too?? Next, we should be bleaching them too...

When I was in school, I remember reading that we would not be discirmainted based on colour. Then why this? Rascism at its best! It is not funny anymore, though I was put through a lot of hilarious ads, websites, and writings on the topic, from which I have liberally taken to make my point. But, I trust and I hope that people do see my point and if you do, see the anger behind all this.

You must realise that people look good, whatever colour your skin or private part takes! So, screw the fairness creams and the bleaches... coz at the end of the day, we all do look good! And we will not be discriminated based on the c word! Colour!

View from the Top

I was wondering while looking at the view today. Pinks, greens, blues dotted with whites and oranges. Lovely colours clashing with garish. Also, little houses they seemed, some built Indian style, a few Chinese and a few others, just built to provide shade.

How lucky, I thought. To be under the shade, in this hot, hot sun. It spread my view, to the beyond, into other worlds, it seemed. Underworld, I wondered, and upperworld I was told.

But am wondering if they go beyond this. If they are always stuck deep down in the mud and the dirt? Never to go anywhere. Never to be thought about again. How lucky I wondered, never to be asked a question again, never to be told off.

But then, I knew deep down that I would not be the same again, if I wasn't asked a question, or told off, or yelled at. Because then, life such as it is would cease to exist for me and I would be left staring at the dead, at the graveyard. Never to return, never to stay.

The written note

Well, here we are again. I kinda told myself I'd start writing now, I kinda did, but not here. It was back to square one, it was back to a newspaper! I do not know if I should be thankful for it, to the friend who led me back. Not for this, definitely, but writing! Allowing me to see it all over again, and feeling everything I did, when I first started to write. Write, write, write!

I know my handwriting sucks, but hey, I am writing. And to continue writing, I will feel it again, the touch of the crisp, white paper and the feel of that black pen, its nib out like it is ready to strike. I want to hear it, the sound of the rustling paper, waiting all this while...waiting for me, perhaps, it seems to come and write on you again.

The sounds of writing, do you hear them? I hear them as clearly as I did when I was but ten staring out of the classroom window, at the lovely green trees, with their yellow flowers. I hear the scramble for pens, and I knew then, that this would be my dream, to write!

I have found writing to be not just that. It has helped me through days of boring classes, through the times of similar meetings, through days of endless happiness as it did through moments of tears. It has been my solace and my strength.
Nothing has changed! Times are the same... nothing really had changed! So, then why should I forget to write? Why, when it has been everything for me? I do not mean writing for the job, I enjoy it sometimes.

I mean, writing for myself. Weaving stories out of imagination, out of dreams and hopes. I find it difficult to talk so I write, I find it difficult to think, so I write, I find it difficult to express myself, so I write. I find it difficult to write, so I write... I write... in secret.

Eyes Wide Open...

Wondering. Dreaming with my eyes wide open, I am. I wish things were a little different. I want to change them, but I cannot. I am not asking for much, but just those few wishes, I dream of them, sometimes of the gardens, I had walked before in, of the gates I have walked through. Almost, always looking back.

Do I like the present or the past, but I really do not want to live in the past. But, then again, it had its moments, I miss them. My mind is full of dreams, dreams of a wonderful future, dreams of a beautiful present, and yes, dreams of the haunting past too. I cannot choose, which I like best, I do not want to, anymore. We'll watch it, as it unfolds, be a part of it, even.

Some things never change, and we are glad of it. Like those, times, when we used to sit and blabber on into the night, all those times we laughed, and all those people who made us laugh. Like those sunsets, I would watch, at almost every hill station, wishing for the moments to be captured in my mind.

My mind's eye can still see them. Like those beaches I went to, like those sea shells I collected, like this castles I built, in the sand and in the air. Like those thoughts, which would come to me, and stay on as dreams. The book stores, I went to. All those books, I bought, to help me build my castles further. To help me breathe in the fragrance a little longer, to touch and feel the very essence of all those thoughts.

To see it come to life, the very thought, that very feeling, to hear the sounds of laughter, the sounds of grief, and the sound of silence. To have me look on into the distance, and still see those very thoughts come to life. I dream on, then, because they are all I have to hold on to. To help me, through it all. To help me see the sun, rise again.

Raavan --- A miracle watch.

Now that I think of it, have to give it marks for its natural beauty. I felt like going and sitting in the rains, some more. I think it might have done better if it was released here in the summer, considering the heat, people would have love the rained out look. Full marks to the technical team. :)

But also, full marks on the perspective that Mani Ratnam has on Ramayan. Ram (if not born in that era, would probably have had the kind of anti-hero kind of characterization.) I felt Aishwarya Rai was ill-suited for that role. She was expressionless, almost. Except in a few scenes even her beauty has failed her. The stunts by Aishwarya were pretty commendable, (if she did them herself like they claim).

Vikram, knowing fully well about his lack of knowledge of the Hindi language, could not give the extra edge to his role. Coming to Abhishek Bachchan, well, what can I say… he was funny when he was supposed to be scary. He was funny when he was funny when he supposedly intense. Let’s just say, he was funny… did not expect him to be so bad, guess the characterization was too sketchy.

Other than that, Govinda’s role was almost nothing. I mean the character, which could have been powerful, was reduced to a comic nothing. He is the only guy who managed to get to Raavan’s lair, and got to do something. His role, as the funny guy, in which he jumps everywhere, was finished in the first bit when they introduce him. Ravi Kishen ? was alright, in whatever little role that he had.

And the story began, (well, whatever little they could muster) only in the second half, and ended there. What a waste of time.

I thought that it would be alright, in spite of whatever I heard, but I have never felt like getting up and walking out of the theatre for any movie as I felt for this one. That too, a Mani Ratnam movie!! Still, it did not get me to walk out. So, three cheers for that??!! :)

Book Picking!

Picking a book. What happens when you pick a book? What are you expecting from it? Are you expecting joy or sadness, or are you wanting to find out the best of nature or sciences? Or better yet, are you just expecting a good read?

This, perhaps is probably one of the few things one expects in books. Why do you say you loved a book? I hated ‘The Wuthering Heights’ when I first read it. Is it because I did not see anything in it? Or perhaps I did not want to see anything in it? Same with ‘Tess of the ‘Tess of the d’Urbervilles’. These literary giants, both in terms of writing and the emotion they can make you feel are perhaps the qualifying factors in reading these books.

If I hated ‘Tess of the d’Urbervilles’, then its purpose was achieved. Thomas Hardy’s purpose was achieved. I hated everything about Alec d'Urberville, his very character was enough to make me hate an entire book. How, then had Hardy managed to achieve it? The same with Wuthering Heights, the same with Heathcliff. What a character he was. He was ruthless, yet he managed to have so many people love him and hate him at the same time. Again, why?

Perhaps, I repeat, both these books have achieved their purposes. There are ‘happy’ books, such as those by Jane Austen or Louisa May Alcott, who have managed to write incidents from their pasts, and yet managed to have the happy themes going. Why did I like them and hate the former ones? It is simple. I liked everything, but just thought I hated some, not because I hated the authors or even their styles of writing, both of these which were excellent.

If Hardy wanted me to dislike Alec and Bronte, Heathcliff who am I to disagree? So, I did. I disliked, even hated these two characters. By moving me, emotionally to dislike these characters, the authors have managed to make me react. React beautifully, to everything they were writing with the passion they felt, perhaps at that time.

So, when I go to pick a book now, I do not know too much about it. I just walk into a book store and pick up books, randomly. Probably, just read the blurb, if at all, I cannot decide. And this has led me to find possibly some of the best books, even by authors, I did not know. A book also depends on my mood, so ideally I would pick book depending on my mood, that day. But, hey a book is a book is a book. Love it, hate it, but you just can’t live without it.

Fighting in Parliament? What for?

As the parties are battling it out in Parliament, it could truly be a Mahabharat. Essentially, this should have been something we shouldn't even be fighting over, let alone in the Parliament. In fact, there should be a bill which should well be passed, which says that women, should have at least 50% reservation in both the sabhas.

As we go on talking about women taking a lead in this and that, why in the world are we put in a position, where we have to ask for our place under the sun? But, well, so much for our country and all it ups and downs...

If certain people feel so bad about other sections of the community which, we call India being left out, then perhaps they should step down and put up someone from these 'communities', who are not allowed to jump in. People, who probably do not have enough 'political mileage' to suit the requirements of the parliament. Because, these people are definitely not answering my call or perhaps even the call of at least, half the country's population.

Again, they seem to be missing the point. That is that, this sort of reservation is present only in the Panchayats, which represents one of these so-called socially and economic backward communities. The panchayats are from the villages, how come they have the intelligence and do not have to fight our politicians, like the way we do?

A mere 33.3% is only what is being asked for, when truly, at least we should have proportional reservation. If what happened yesterday, is an example, then we truly need women in there. I hope there would be a time when we stop bickering about such things among ourselves, and start fighting the real fights.

Cracked calling Karthik!

I think it's high time, we all stopped cribbing about all the time wasted on Hindi films, because that's the way it is. Something for everyone ;).

Like in 'Karthik calling Karthik' for example, everyone missed the fun of the movie, which was essentially the phone calls. Of course, there was all the romance and of course, there was all the song and dance. If you sleep through the first half, the movie magically appears in the second half.

I liked the movie. I agree Farhan Akhtar over does the creepy bit as if he is in a horror flick or something, but hey, he is good in the rest. The movie is essentially about him and his odd disorder, and his capacity to cope with it. Of course, that definitely wasn't a part of the movie, but we are to understand that he coped with it. That is definitely not what the director is trying to do. You get it, coz he spends zero time trying to explain the disorder, except that Karthik needs help.

The crux of it, I felt, was Karthik's ability to deal with it, minus his friends and relatives. He shows his willingness when he manages to almost deal and vanquish it, when he disappears, by himself and takes his 'alter ego' with it, before resurfacing again.

Deepika Padukone was pleasant and all the other characters were good too, providing the romantic, comic and the important parts of the movie. Of course, I did miss his parents, where were they? Or were they dead and did I miss that? Completely unnatural, when they disappear so willingly in the second half and show up now and then, don't you think? Oh, did I mention his doc just runs away? :) Kinda funny?

Ok, we get it. It's Farhan's film, and Deepika's so, she comes back to his relief. This movie can be truly enjoyable, both in the positive sense and also in the negative sense. See, the first is the good parts that is when they show how and what is wrong with him. If you like it, there it is. But if you like my bad part, ie when they go overboard over the romance, taking their own sweet time for the kill, then well, there it is too.

But, I do not know if Mr Lalwani meant for me to interpret it differently. As in talking about his willingness to kill the beast by himself, despite his not realising it. It actually could be that way. I mean, a guy would resist something to a point, but then if you have someone to hold him back, only then would he be willing to take the last step and keep with it.

Farhan was pretty good in the movie, restrained and subtly does his acting come out. Deepika, by the way, despite the really silly reason on her ex-boyfriend's bit, comes in to her own, every now and then at least, because the script does not really call for it. Vijay Lalwani did a pretty neat job of it, 'very slowly' managing to develop his character, by that I mean the phone's not Farhan's.

By the way, what in-film advertising!! Very nice, except the phone's. Am sure I am not getting that phone, for sure.

I liked it, in spite of all its shortcomings! :)

Poem? Limerick? :)

You said Moo...

I said Boo...

You ran away, scaredy-poo!

On a mission to save the world... from Aish Rai

Old advertisements on the internet. What else could I do? Beyond spending the evening watching and laughing at them? Nowadays, there isn't much to watch. Of course, the interest in ads still stays, I know I bring the place down about switching channels, even today. And I can see it not waning away anytime soon.

Yet, the interest was something, which came to me only with the older ads. Today, I know that I cannot remember a single advertisement. Ask me the last Pepsi or Coke ads, no clue, totally blank.

But then, I used to remember the latest ads earlier, even a year down the line. Ask me of the Maaza ad, I remember something. The Coke ad, which had Aamir Khan in it and not to mention Aishwarya Rai? Loved the Lakme ads which had her in it too... The ads then were something... which were ideas, which one could aspire to. You had actors telling you to have only the 'best' Seemingly, important. Even if it wasn't, you still could aspire to do it, becasue, well, an Aamir or a Kapil Dev asked you to do so...

But, now it's a joke. You have everything from washing powder, (Salman Khan telling you to buy one) pens (Amitabh, Sachin and Shah Rukh telling us to go get them), or even L'oreal products Aish Rai claiming to save the world, in bright red lipsticks and red skirts and shoes. Gawd, really?

I'd go red in the face, just talking about it. ( No product necessary for that one.)

I know that I liked the Lakme stuff a lot better, it was then a matter of getting something exclusive, if she was advertising for it. Now, it's just a matter of getting anything off the shelf. Exclusivity, be damned!

Besides then, there were ads, superstars notwithstanding, which came to your mind. Probably because of a really nice jingle, the sense of humour...

Now... missing.

There seem to be very few ads, which show these... enough to remember them by, at least for a few days. I'm not complaining about the varieties we have in them, not mentioning to you the different tooth pastes and their tastes. I know that I won't remember them as days go by.

I understand the need for change, but I do not understand the need for change in intelligence. What are we talking about? Is it the so called models in ads, is it the products and their varieties in ads or is it the product itself? I would not know, because if you are going to show them, they had better be smart or funny perhaps both, otherwise, well, what is the point?

Because I am asking for a shortage of all these ads. If not, well, I'm confused, hope I'm not getting conned and fused at the same time.

Lead on...leader!

Leader! Saw it today, went there expecting a wonderful movie. It was. And I wasn't at all disappointed. Oh yeah, Suhasini, subtly and in a very understated way manages to have the wonderful screen presence, she is known for.

The story, though somehow impossible, did manage to strike a chord. It had all the elements of a true, honest movie. Sadly, only a movie. I actually wished for a leader to be exactly like that. You wish and wish for something like that to happen. So, Shekar Kammula deserves all the points for that one.

The story, I felt was very powerful in its own right. It comes at the right time too. However, somehow the shoulders on which it rests on, does not give us a reason to watch it again. The movie went on very slowly, gaining strength though, and finally manages to reach complete power, right towards the end. That pretty much is when it happens, when it manages to touch you, right at the end.

It lets you feel a plethora of emotions in the last twenty minutes. Quite a bit of screen time wasted though, I felt.

Oh yeah, did I mention the item number? It was thankfully, the most decent item number, I've ever seen.

The actors were excellent, but then we have always managed to see, whether it was a Suhasini or a Kota Srinivas Rao come out with good performances. Rana Daggubati has an impressive screen presence, his height and his entire personality add to the movie. He does seem like 'The Leader', which the movie was supposed to have. One can imagine very few people in his place. But, unfortunately that is all. He does not bring anything else to the 'CM's table'. His face was blank, almost throughout the movie. But his personality carries him through. His face has a shadow of brilliance, which should come through, eventually.

Harsha Vardhan's role was good and he does his bit with full justice. End Note about the heroines. It was rather nice watching Priya Anand on the screen, she was funny. On Richa, she was alright, too. Really did not have much to do, but I felt and wished she could have done much more in her few scenes. Some scenes were cut, I guess.

An excellent start. I hope there will be more movies like this, with good story lines, sound tracks and performances. :) Because... god knows, we need them.

Oh yeah, Belated Happy Holi people!! :)

Now, for some fun!!

I think we all (my 4 odd readers and myself) have had enough of me dishing out my own philoshophy. I notice that my comment rate increases at least. :) Anyway, after all the philosophy, I think I am through with that for a while... for a long, long while anyway. Though the phase was there and lasted long enough, (2-3 months) I reckon, it is time for some fun.

So, read some Calvin and Hobbes, bring on the Magadheera type movies, and some din chik din chik moves. Or Jatak Matak, whichever you prefer and sing smelly cat, smelly cat. :)

So, let us see now, Magadheera, which was a howlarious movie was all it promised, it was superb fun, of course you cannot miss the fact that it was too loud and did get boring half way through, but hey, it got me, my three (I think) hours of entertainment. While the books, not Calvin, sorry, l'il too expensive for me. Anuja Chauhan's The Zoya Factor is my fantasy, well... almost, in a book, while Chetan Bhagat's 2 States was a joke. So, overall, last week was bit of both. Started off with all the seriousness it could muster, and ended with jokes all round.

Now, for some work! Let us umm..ahh... power on? :)

Change!?

Change! There it is again. Why is it so hard to find? And when we find it, why don’t we like it, not very much at first? Are we too scared? Why are we so hesitant? Why is it all weird and so much done to stop it from happening?

I’ve changed in so many ways, I can’t keep count. I resisted it but it has found me, again, again and yet again. So, I gave in and I have changed. Learnt to like it…learnt to realise it, and learnt to find the many beauties of it…

I have found in the past that whatever change has brought about, it has brought about sanity, perseverance, and most importantly, and weirdly enough, self preservation. Do I like it now? Do I like its many effects and its never ending after effects? Maybe not at first…but I know for sure, I did.

Especially, when I start to realise change, I also realise the silly things change can make you do. Silly? Perhaps to everyone else but not to me, not now. Specially, because this very change has brought me here, saw me through everything, and will see me through this as well.

Change because life is never constant and life should not be, or you may be left standing in the same place, when everybody else, has gone ahead. Resist it, until you find reason enough for you to leave it behind. Trust it, because you know that it could never be wrong…however difficult it may seem at first.

As tomorrow comes we leave yesterday behind, but we have some wonderful memories of it, some happy, some sad, but wonderful all the same. So, change we must. Change. Now.

Book Review: 'Paths of Glory' by Jeffrey Archer

Rarely comes along a book, and takes you with it, especially nowadays. But this time, I have found it. Jeffrey Archer’s ‘Paths of Glory’, is one such book that takes you along as it goes, first at a slower pace and then makes one rush along wanting to know, what happens. To climb, mind you, nothing less than the Mount Everest. And it takes us up it in minutes, considering the pace at which it lets you read the book.

Starting off at a leisurely pace, it slowly weaves an extraordinary tale of adventure and one of love, all wrapped in a subtle sense of wit. Banters, which one cannot miss between Thackeray Turner and George Leigh Mallory or even in other conversations that Mallory has with his wife and various people.

George Leigh Mallory is the ‘lead man’, perhaps in this book, followed closely by his wife, Ruth and his many friends, who are willing to risk lives to climb the Everest.

The matchless self expression presented through dialogue and the letters which Mallory and Ruth exchange with each other is truly beyond comparison. Letters, unimaginable nowadays, in which one can see the love and the respect written with such humility that can only be imagined. You could truly wish you could write them like that or not write them at all!

It slips into the real adventure describing the humorous, for lack of a better word, George Finch and his adventures. Along with sherpas, and the mules, our journey up the Chomolungma, begins then. As they skirt along the mountain, eating something I have personally never heard of, but my mouth waters every time it is mentioned now, is the Kendal Mint Cake.

You are almost as disappointed and hurt as Mallory at the prospect of not reaching the summit and a sigh of relief cannot but help escape your lips when he does, the second time round. It is almost as if you had sat with Mallory’s children, waiting and anticipating for their daddy to climb the mountain.

This book needs at least two readings, of this I am sure. If you are the kind who reads the end before you finish the book, then I urge you to continue reading it. This book is one, which would go beyond all your anticipation and imagination. Knowing the end and still wanting to read it, is a gift, Archer can create for you. Though the mystery was never solved, it does in Archer’s book and in your mind, that George Leigh Mallory did indeed conquer the summit.

Much as I have enjoyed Archer’s short stories, to his novels and even his prison diaries, this book is his best. The ease with which he moves from year to year is indeed, amazing. So, to Jeffrey Archer and his book, which is inspired by a true story, I have only this to say, ‘Hear, Hear’.　

Reality!

I was looking forward to tomorrow, yesterday. Will tomorrow be any different, I asked myself. Will it be different from what I have always seen, always heard, always felt? If so, how different? What is the difference?

I woke up, not to birds chirping, not to the sun shining, not to a lovely dream. I woke up to something very different, something which would not keep me safe, something which would hurl me into space, and wait for me to hit earth.

I woke up… to reality.

Why would I want to be here? Why, when I seemed to be having a pretty wonderful time? Why would I choose this?

I had but one choice. To go back to sleep, or to wake up and face it. No, not the harsh reality, but the real reality.

The reality which would be a little different, a lot more adventurous and would require a lot more courage. So, here I am, ready to face you, my reality.

Ready to face the one thing, which has given me everything I have and everything I have not.
I have chosen the real reality. And I have but one wish.

And when this reality comes true, I will have no one to thank for it, but myself. And for that day, I will wait.
　

Remembering Goa…

I remember the breakfasts in Goa. Cornflakes and milk, toast and omelets, not to mention milkshakes, sausages and porridge, baked beans on buns, rounded off with a steaming cup of hot coffee. Yum yum… Why am I remembering all these?

Also the long walks, all the way to Calangute, the beach houses, the sand and the sea, not to mention the lovely sunsets we used to see, dolphins in the distance. The mehndi tattoos, the lovely shopping at the market, not to mention the half closed flea market. The long drives too. The damn rains, the crowded parties at night, the late nights.

The awesome shacks at the beach, what lovely chairs! Why in the world am I remembering these? Maybe its time I went back or at least to a place very like it. :)

Did I just see a Monkey?

There were two monkeys in my house. Yes, you heard right. We have always been used to monkeys. My grandpa’s house was famous for monkeys, they used to drop in for a visit and if they didn’t find the trees good enough, they always used to find something in grandma’s larder.

Grandma was once sitting on the terrace, and one actually came down to sit, just like a proper guest, I believe he was busy eating something, all the while watching grandma, who sat stiffly, not moving, just to watch it leave. The second one who dropped into her kitchen, was shocked at how loudly my grandma could actually shout. A frightened old lady she seemed so docile, the monkey must have thought. She sure could bring the house down and the scream was so loud, that scared us for sure, but the monkey was out of its wits too!

One cute little monkey, who ran off the second she came face to face with my dad. Poor child, she must’ve been scared out of her wits, and my poor dad who hadn’t done a thing was mighty pleased with himself, am sure for managing to scare it off, by not so much as lifting a finger.

Of course, will never forget the monkey who came into out kitchen when we were staying in an apartment, strolled ever so nonchalantly into the kitchen , and ran off with a bottle of pulses. He got it open, tried to eat it, found it too hard for its liking, and ran off, leaving behind the sorry bottle on the roof of our neighbours house. They had a full half a kilo of dal that morning, and the lovely smell that came from the house, must have been my favourite yellow dal. :)

Monkeys have followed us here as well, it seems. They are in almost every house, just like cats.

I saw two monkeys today, and they made off with fruit from our tree. It’s not new, they’ve been here before, but much before all the construction had begun around our house. Maybe they came back to reclaim their natural habitat. But unfortunately, we can’t offer them that, the most we could offer are fruits, which they happily helped themselves to. I saw them leave with a smile, well, at least it looked like a smile and a wave. Or maybe it was just them trying to get hold of the branches of the few trees...hmmm…

Next time, cats. ;)

English. The ultimate language. (For me, at least. :) )

Have started Funny Side Up. Am not trying to review it or something, it does not require one, because it has been written by Ruskin Bond. I do not know or understand why this man has not gotten all the awards in the world. His books are simple, humorous, and nostalgic and many other complimentary adjectives to go with them.

He is what I would call the ultimate designer writer. If there ever was one, we have found him. His stories have all the necessary frills and lace and are as smooth as silk.

I remember as a kid, sitting in school, trying to read up collections of short stories and novels in literature class. Boy! I hated that. I feel today, when I read them, there is magic in those words, the simplicity in the language is perhaps the most exquisite. I liked reading outside of school, why then did I hate reading it for school? It was simple. I had to study then. I prefer reading to studying.

Now, after all these many years, after school that is, I find everyone of those words in those English books, which I had not found then. Shakespeare and Hardy and Austen. Enid Blyton, Roald Dahl, and O. Henry. John Grisham, Robin Cook and JK Rowling. The discovery never stops. Does not take a pause.

I was in a book store the other day, and my cousin, who was kind enough to get me a gift voucher, was not surprised when I exceeded it. He believes that giving me one of a higher amount would be silly, because I would still manage to exceed that as well.

I find that English cannot be taught, it has to be discovered. Then begins our voyage. Into a world, so vast and its splendour, so varied. So, let the exploration begin… and my own self discovery with it.