harimohan paruvu

The Paradoxes of Life - The 'Love' Paradox

2012-02-26T20:55:00.003-08:00

We often ignore the things that we claim are the most important to us.

Be it people or things or wants - the most important things to us are often the most ignored. Make a list of things that are most important to you, and normally, we'd find that most of the important things are postponed in our life. Maybe because we want to be 'good enough' for them when we finally experience them.

But then there is no time like now. I suspect that much of our good is held back because of this penchant of ours to hold back on things that are important to us. If we don't think they are important enough, why would the good god contest that. He'd say we seem to be doing very well with the things we have (the ones that ar not important to us).

To get a move on in life, a different perspective and certainly a different experience in life, start working on the 'important things' in your life and postpone them no further. We're good enough now.

Song of the Day - Gulabi Aankhen

2012-02-26T20:27:00.001-08:00

Song from 'The Train' with Rajesh Khanna and Nanda, peppy and always a good one to listen to. But the song is shot on a frenzied Rajesh Khanna and Nanda who shake, run, shiver and quiver, slide, life, jerk and quirk, in an attempt to match the energy of the song sung by Mohd Rafi. There is also a particular shot when the leading duo hide behind a tree to eat some of that electrifying material before they come back and jerk and shake away gloriously. I love the song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ezVzSxthVW0

What Would Happen If Money Was Not There?

2012-02-26T04:25:00.000-08:00

If money went out of the equation in our daily life what would happen?

1) I think that a more natural way of living would take over our lives. I'd stop using the branded toothbrushes, toothpastes and go to the good old neem twig, charcoal, salt which I believe gives the rural folk in India much stronger teeth than the urban folk.

2) I'd stick to home cooked food and in that, home grown or traded food. It would be simple stuff and I suppose organic because there would be no money for fertilisers and modern equipment which would emphasise the need for 'more'. I'd probably head to the places where there is some land to grow my stuff.

3) Clothes and other accessories would become far more simpler. The first thing that would disappear once money goes out of the system are the brands from my life I'd guess. I'd use clothes that are homemade, simple and functional.

4) I'd pretty much build my dwelling with my own hands, do the plumbing, do the masonry, the carpentry - do and learn a lot of work with my hands. It would keep me happy and satisfied. I'd grow my own garden, figure out water storage, drainage.

5) I'd be more social to my neighbour, my community, of whom I know nothing now though I've been living here for three decades now. I'd figure out ways for us to deal with problems as a society or community along with the others.

6) I'd also realise the importance of animals and insects and the environment. And the many chores they do in our society for so little.

7) I'd spend much more time with the family as we'd figure out how to do things by ourselves - farm, milk, vegetables, fruits, pets, water. We'd find ways to entertain ourselves, to learn and to teach.

8) I'd probably do a lot more walking, cycling and stuff like that. I'd probably be more aware of the changing seasons, of nature, of small changes that affect us when we are in tune with nature. I'd see more sunrises, sunsets, stars and moonlit nights.

9) There'd be nothing to hide, nothing to build careers for. I'd just live, beautify my surroundings, create in as many ways as I can. It would give me much needed space to create if I have the aptitude.

10) There would be no need for unnecessary information, entertainment that offers instant gratification.
Each day would be new, filled with insecurity or security, depending on how we look at it. Each moment would be new.

11) I'd eat when hungry, drink when thirsty, sleep when tired.

12) I'd greet any person without reservation because they will have nothing to ask of me. I will smile back at people without wondering if they are smiling because they want a loan.

13) My vision for the place I am in will grow. I will plant trees, plan water bodies, secure bunds from floods. I will think ahead.

14) I will think of others and their welfare much easier with money out of the equation.

15) True character will be the big diffrentiator. I will be able to diffrentiate between the truly great and the truly mediocre once money is knocked out of the equation.

16) My to-do lists will become far more meaningful and more 'mine'.

Need to think of some more. But funnily all these look like a life that I'd want to live once I retire 'after I make enough money'. Guess I can start now.

Song of the Day - Kitne Sapne Kitne Arman

2012-02-25T03:52:00.003-08:00

My one great memory that this song brings up is that of our dear friend Topper a.k.a. Sunil Jyoti who would sing the first few lines of this song with great gusto (in a short period of time only when he was smitten by this song). One with a fine taste and a large collection of music Topper's collection of Kishore Kumar songs was what we heard when we drove to Goa and back I'd think. Why does this memory of Topper remain - because I have never heard him sing any other song. I still remember his expression of pure joy. One who has a great love and zest for life, one who laughs easily, Topper is always great company.

But the song itself shot on Rajesh Khanna and Tanuja in the 1972 hit film 'Mere Jeevan Saathi' is another of those peppy Kishore numbers that one can't stop humming along. Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xc4u_fng6xI

Rhapsody in August - Movie Review

2012-02-24T20:49:00.003-08:00

Another from the great Sagar treasure trove of movies 'Rhapsody in August' is Akira Kurosawa's movie about the bombing of Nagasaki by the US and how it is dealt with 45 years later by three generations of a family - a grandmother who suffered the bombing, her postwar children and her new economy grandchildren.

Left with their grandmother who has lost all her hair in the bombing, saved only because she lived in a village covered by mountains some distance away from Nagasaki on that deadly day, are her four Big Apple-Yankee-loving grandchildren, cousins, perpetually draped in all the US branded clothes. The movie begins with a letter form one of her many brothers Suzujiro, who has settled in Hawaii and done well for himself, married an American woman and has grandchildren of his own. The brother wants his sister to visit him in Hawaii and sends her his pictures with his children and grandchildren. Grandma does not even recognise him, though she is clearly very lucid in her memory otherwise. The cousins are angry with her because they are losing out a chance to go to Hawaii and try to convince her to make the trip.

Meanwhile one of the older cousins takes the younger ones on a tour to Nagasaki and shows them the school where their grandfather died on the day the bomb was dropped, in the school. They see the twisted memorial of a monkey gym on the school premises, pay their respects to it, see the spot where the bomb was actually dropped, see the water fountain kept with the stone engraving mentions that all victims died asking for water, see all the monuments sent by all countries. The youngest of them innocently asks his sister where America's monument was and is told that America was the one that dropped the bomb. The experience changes his attitude a bit towards America and his grandma who he learns has been a teacher just like his grandpa. She is no more the 'stone head with some reeds on her head'.

Grandma relates tales of her brothers as she sits with her grandchildren on the moonlit courtyard often scaring them. She tells them of her brother who drew eyes, his recollection of the day of the bombing. She does not recognise the brother in Hawaii still. However when confirmation arrives that he is really her brother when he correctly names their family members she agrees to go, after the memorial service to her husband on August 9, the day of the bombing. The news is conveyed.

The parents of the children who had been in Hawaii and who expect some part of the rich inheritance of the old relative, fear that mention of the bomb could put off the American side of the family and they may disown them. When grandma's brother's son, the half American Clark (Richard Gere) sends them a telegram that he would be coming to Japan they fear that he is coming to sever ties. But Clark comes with peace and spends time with his aunt, at the memorial, the school and they all plan to go to Hawaii together. However his father, grandma's brother, dies and he has to leave early. Grandma loses her balance as well, guilty that she has not been able to see her big brother sooner, has hallucinations of the bombing again and in the end is seen running towards Nagasaki to protect her husband. The entire family runs after her in the rain to protect her form harm, their priorities clear now.

For story telling Akira Kurosawa is fantastic. I loved the way the story flowed simply, the generational gaps, the slow uncovering of their history they were not even aware of, the Japanese-American undercurrent, grandma's own reconciliation with her past and the way it catches up with her finally. A movie that would have jerked present day generation into introspection.

It has a lesson for all of us. After this generation there will be no further reference to that period (also for us a period when we got our independence) save history books and monuments. I always wonder how this rich treasure trove of elder citizens is left by themselves. They are all witnesses to a time we had not been in, a culture we have not experienced. But we let them die, without exploring any of their thoughts, impressions and feelings. Must watch. Must imbibe and must interact with the old people now.

Song of the Day - Hum Bewafa

2012-02-24T06:23:00.001-08:00

From the movie 'Shalimar' which I never saw, comes this haunting song sung by Kishore Kumar which has shades of what I look for in my travel collections. A tad slow but it has enough to get the shoulders and head moving. Dharmendra looks handsome as handsome can get - and his face seems to emote much more than all the current actors put together. Surprisingly Dharam was never known as a great actor. Falling standards or were the standards pretty high then? Anyway here's to the jinga lala, hurr purr song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2kAhrV_mS6o

The audio is not great but this one has a shot of Dharmendra without his shirt.

The Way - Movie Review

2012-02-24T06:13:00.001-08:00

Watched this delightful 2010 film starring Martin Sheen and his real-life son Emelio Estevez, the older brother of Charlie Sheen (born Carlos Estevez). 'The Way' was made by this father-son duo to honour the Camino de Santiago, an ancient Catholic pilgrim route that originates from several places in France and other countries and ends at the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Galicia in Spain where the remains of the apostle St. James are believed to be kept. Traditionally undertaken by walk, from the door of the pilgrim to the Cathedral, the Campino is now undertaken by many on cycles, horses and even donkeys. Starting from the French Pyranees at Roncesvalles, the journey is an 800 km trip going through a picturesque countryside and is symbolised by a Galician scallop which is sometimes worn as a badge.

The movie takes you through the the entire length of the traditional Campino. Dr. Tom Avery, an opthalmologist from the US gets a call that his forty year old son - with whom he never saw eye-to-eye on matters regarding life - has died in a storm in the French Pyranees while on the Campino trip. The guilt ridden father arrives to take his son's body home but decides on an impulse to cremate his son's body and carry his ashes along the Campino route - as his son's last journey with him. The old doctor takes off stubbornly refusing advise from many not to take the arduous 800 kms route. Withdrawn and wanting to be with his thoughts as he journeys along, he bumps into a gregarious Dutchman Joost, a party loving, overweight man, who is on the Campino to lose weight for his brother's wedding and also be be more desirable to his wife. They are joined by a Canadian Sarah who is ostensibly on the Campino to quit smoking but in reality is escaping her abusive husband and lost child in an abortion. An Irish writer with a writer's block joins them and completes the quartet. They walk along through the established pilgrim routes, getting their Pilgrim passport stamped, enjoying the journey, having fun, fighting and growing. As they end of the journey they all become people who are more at peace with themselves. Dr. Avery takes the completion Compostela certificate in his son's name - Daniel Avery. The other three decide to join the doctor on his trek beyond Santiago where he finally scatters his son's ashes in the ocean.

It is a movie that is made by someone for whom the Campino means much. The trail has some wonderful landscapes and makes you want to go and join the Campino and walk the 800 kms. I am not sure about the Campino but I am keen to walk on a smaller trek - perhaps walk the length of Goa as Koni and I had planned - to start with. 'The Way' is rather long at 2 hours for an English film but it does not bore you if you are in the mood for it. There are many lovely songs that are played in the background as well including Alanis Morisette's 'Thank You'. Watch it if you're a travel person, nature person, are introspective and want to see a movie made for the love of it.

Song of the Day - Aaj Se Pehle

2012-02-23T09:03:00.003-08:00

I heard this song from the from the superhit 'Chitchor' in 1975-76 when I was still in middle school. Brother Joseph at St. Gabriel's High School, Kazipet (where I studied for 4 years before moving back to Hyderabad) who was fond of music would play this music loudly over the loud speakers after school and we'd listen to these wonderfully melodious numbers without understanding a word as we played football or cricket in the rays of the setting sun at Kazipet. I saw the movie much later of course and loved it. A classic.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AQVN4UjBSC8

Once again the music has a lot of travel element to it complete with shots of the sky from branches of trees. Love the Vijayendra dialogue - '..woh bhi ek galat tareeke se overtake karne wale se' and Amol Palekar's naive response - 'That's the spirit sir.'

The Eighteenth Parallel - Ashokamitran

2012-02-22T21:59:00.002-08:00

Ashokamitran writes in Tamil and this fine Hyderabadi novel (Disha Books, 134 p, Rs. 55) is translated into English by Gomathi Narayanan. Vinod lent this old copy to me on my request after I'd seen his review of the book on his blog. Ashokamitran's world of Hyderabad and Secunderabad in 1948, a time when he was a college going student (in real life) trying to make sense of all that was going on about him in a critical period in the history of the twin cities, makes it the first truly authentic Hyderabadi novel that I have read complete with landmarks, the food, the people, the Irani cafes. I loved it.

I'd guess the novel was largely autobiographical as Ashokamitran was born in Secunderabad in 1931 and would have been the age of the protagonist, Chandru in 1948. Chandru belongs to a Tamil family that lives in the Lancer Barracks in Secunderabad. His father is a Railway employee in the Nizam's Railway - one of those few departments where Tamils and Telugus had jobs, unlike the other state departments where Muslims had a majority of jobs. Young Chandru is torn between his love for cricket, his Muslim and Hindu friends, his trouble with understanding the local languages Urdu and Telugu, his growing up years, girls and other such concerns. But soon these concerns make way for bigger concerns as the State of the Nizam prepares itself with its Razakars, a militant Muslim volunteer group formed to resist the accession of the state to the Indian government. The Razakars were civilian volunteers who quelled any thought in the direction of Indian accession and were opposed to the Indian National Congress and its off shoot in Hyderabad, the Hindu Mahasabha.

As the period grows blacker and uncertainty increases in the state, the small populations of the Tamils and others are caught between the two forces - Hindu and Muslim, Pro and Anti accession. Chandru does not go to college anymore with increasing attacks on Hindus and those who side with the Congress. He is attacked as well. He sees the Muslims grow more and more aggressive as they feel they will be able to resist the Indian government. The atrocities of the Razakars is shown and it reflects in the unnecessary aggression by their neighbour Kasim who stomps into their house and shuts off their tap one day accusing them of wasting water in days of shortage. News of the supply of arms to the Nizam by the gunrunner Sydney Cotton in his daily flights, the rhetoric of the Razakar leader Quasim Razvi, the fear of Communists joining the Nizam's forces, the prospect of Pakistan supporting the Nizam's fight against the Indian Army, the death of Gandhi lead to a period of heightened gloom followed by the the meek submission to the Indian army by the Nizam, completely turning things on its head.

Chandru is as much disturbed by Gandhi's death as he is by the anger of the Hindus against Muslim refugees when the tide turns. Overnight the tables are turned in the Hindu dominated population of the State of Hyderabad as Hindus go on a rampage against the Muslims who dominated them for years, especially the last few months of Razakar brutality. But nothing disturbs Chandru as much as the incident that happens to him when he runs away from a murderous mob and jumps into a Muslim house by mistake where a small family is hiding from Hindu mobs. Seeing the Hindu boy, one of the teenaged girls offers herself to him to save the family. Chandru runs away from the horror of that hopeless submission, an act that he feels has stained him by making him party to it.

Coming close after my last book on the Hyderabad Nizam's (The Last Nizam), Ashoka Mitran's novel gives the perspective of the common man, the Hindus and the small sections non-aligned people like the Tamils in those times in a neatly woven tale. It is a wonderful glimpse into the history of my hometown, as he describes many landmarks that are now no more, a Hyderabad we knew. But many landmarks still exist - Manohar theatre, the station, the tank bund, Tivoli theatre, Parade Grounds, Mettuguda, Baseerbagh, Regimental Bazaar, Keyes High School. Only one landmark I could not place - KEM Hospital. The mention of Hyderabadi cricketing stalwarts Eddie Aibara (who coached me during the period I played Ranji Trophy for Hyderabad and who was the hero of Hyderabad's first Ranji win), Bhoopathy (who was the Tamil curator and a cricketing great, someone I'd met as well during my playing days) and Ghulam Ahemed (the beurocrat cricketer) made me smile. Life it appeared, seemed to go on two levels in those days - the act that everything was normal, colleges, cricket, girls, communal harmony on one level and and the politics underneath on the other. Chandru's friendship with the Anglo Indians, the Muslims, other Tamils, the cricket games, his buffalo, all make for a nice read.

Two things stand out with Ashokamitran's writing. The way he changes from first person to third person without missing a beat and secondly the way he juxtaposes humour with all of the other extreme emotions - frustration, fear, anger, horror. If I have a compliant it is that there are times when it rambles on with his inner dialogue making one skip some paras and also that I did not quite get the length of the time involved since the start of the book to the end. But these are minor. The book itself is a great read and fits into many categories - coming of age, Hyderabad of the old, the historical period of the accession of Hyderabad to the Indian Union, the common man's perspective of the period.

Ashokamitran is the pen name of Thyagarajan, who lived in Hyderabad for the first twenty five years of his life. He moved to Chennai where he resides currently and is seen as one of the literary heavyweights in Tamil. He worked for many years in Gemini Studios and wrote a book on those experiences too - 'My Years with the Boss'. I hope to meet him in my next foray to Chennai and gift him a copy of my cricket noel which he may like.

10 Rainy Day Songs

2012-02-22T00:05:00.001-08:00

This is a list I started many days ago and never finished. It started on a rainy day six months ago when it rained hard in Hyderabad after a long time. Driving past Husainsagar lake in the afternoon rain I was reminded of the rainy day songs that I like hearing. Here is a list of 10 of those that I remembered:

1) Kabhi to nazar Milao: Adnan Sami's soulful song reminds me of a monsoon that we spent listening to the song with my mother who was not too well then. Soulful and lovely to play on the drive. reminds me of the heavy monsoon everytime.
http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8700197548299305500#editor/target=post;postID=59770727870819917

2) Downeaster Alexa: Billy Joel's number from Stormfront has been an all time favourite with me ever since a wonderful summer back in the early 1990S when it rained and rained everyday. How I loved listening to that song.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LVlDSzbrH5M

3) Rim Jhim Gire Sawan: Fantastic number by Kishore Kumar in Manzil. Sung as well as the original by my college mate Ramesh who excelled at the Kishore numbers. I remember a rainy evening being stranded at Paradise and borrowing Ramesh's bike. When I returned the bike I was drenched but there was some rum and Ramesh was singing this song and it was still raining outside. Heavenly.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5VzUxxa0c2I

There's a rainy video of the female version. A young Amitabh and Moushumi running along a monsoon drenched Bombay's roads.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cmD6GfZgKX8

4) Rain: Madonna's not too well-known number got to me in my Mumbai days. I would play this song and listen to it as the rain poured outside at the flat in Nerul in 1995 where Shobha and set up house for the first time. In fact monsoons in Nerul were wonderful as we listened to music, hosted parties in our barely furnished flat and watched movies till late in the night on an old second hand EC tv.
Or even at my desk at office or in the local on my walkman.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-SFVeBUPo94

5) Everybody Hurts: REM's memorable number is perfect to sink back and reminisce, to let the music flow over and drown under. We spent many days listening to this number over beer in Cafe Mondegar in Mumbai.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ijZRCIrTgQc&ob=av3e

6) Bheegi bheegi raaton mein: From 'Ajanabee' this highly romantic number is great to hear on a rainy day drive. I heard it many times in one of those tapes that have assorted songs, not knowing who sang it, which movie, just captured by the romance of the song.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C8WyJ8CBabY

7) Words: Boyzone's or Beegees, this song is simply lovely for one of those long rainy rides. Great for romance.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8hTmmEzZU4Y&ob=av2n

8) Raindrops keep falling on my head: This is an old hit, one I have heard on many cassettes and albums without knowing who sang it. But whoever sang it, B.J. Thomas I think, did a wonderful job and it enters the rain song list easily.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VILWkqlQLWk

9) Indian Rain: A fabulous number by the Colonial Cousins. Its haunting, lilting music. Lesley's vocals and the way Hariharan enters the song is simply fabulous.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8KuZ5JeC0o8

10) Pari Hoon Main: Sunita Rao's haunting song from the 90s makes it to the list because of its tone and mood. Though the song is not about rain, as many other songs in this collection, it is great to listen to on a rainy day as it makes one go inside and listen to the sound.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sGDGmE9iXgo

Song of the Day - Hum Dono Do Premi

2012-02-21T23:06:00.001-08:00

A mus have in any travel songs collection this song is picturised on Rajesh Khanna and Zeenat Aman in the 1974 film 'Ajnabee'. The two lovers are taking a free ride on a train as it courses through India's rural scapes. Kishore Kumar, Anand Bakshi and R.D. Burman come together again to make this magical number.

Never saw the movie, never saw the video till now but I heard this song so many times that I remember most of the lyrics. Zeenat Aman, her saree flying in the careferee winds looks absolutely natural, and they look so convincing in love, rolling over in the hay and cavorting on the train. Lovely to watch.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UdUolzs8dC4&feature=related

And the philosophy of life as well.

'Gaadi se keh do, manzil hai bahut door' says the girl
'Thoda safar ka maza lelijiye huzoor' says the boy
And much more!

Song of the Day - Dil Kya Kare

2012-02-21T04:31:00.001-08:00

This unforgettable song from the 1975 superhit 'Julie' starring Vikram and Lakshmi is another of those songs that I associate with travel and freedom. Something to do with the mountains, the hills and clouds. The shots of the sky from the trees perhaps and the lryics. Probably the whistling does it. Once again sung by Kishore Kumar, music by Rakesh Roshan.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-woNniQJZPQ&feature=relmfu

'Dil kya kare
Jab kisi ko kisise pyaar ho jaaye
Jaane kahan, Kab kisi ko
Kisise pyaar ho jaye

Jaise parbat pe ghata jhukti hain
Jaise sagar pe lehar uththi hain
Aise kisi chera pe nigah ruthti hain

Rok nahin sakti nazron ko
Duniya bhar ki rasmein

Na kuch tere bas mein Julie
Na kuch mere bas mein'

Aa mein teri yaad mein
Sabko bhuladoon
Duniya ko teri tasveer dikha doon
Mera bas chale to dil cheer ke dikha doon

Doud raha hain saath lahu ke
Pyaar tera nas nas mein
Na kuch...'

Romance spilling over from the heart all through.

Enough for a Lifetime - The Guardian's List of 1000 Novels Everyone Must Read

2012-02-21T04:16:00.004-08:00

1000 novels everyone must read: the definitive list

guardian.co.uk, Friday 23 January 2009 15.23 GMT

Selected by the Guardian's Review team and a panel of expert judges, this list includes only novels – no memoirs, no short stories, no long poems – from any decade and in any language. Originally published in thematic supplements – love, crime, comedy, family and self, state of the nation, science fiction and fantasy, war and travel – they appear here for the first time in a single list.

Comedy

Lucky Jim by Kingsley Amis
Money by Martin Amis
The Information by Martin Amis
The Bottle Factory Outing by Beryl Bainbridge
According to Queeney by Beryl Bainbridge
Flaubert's Parrot by Julian Barnes
A History of the World in 10 1/2 Chapters by Julian Barnes
Augustus Carp, Esq. by Himself: Being the Autobiography of a Really Good Man by Henry Howarth Bashford
Molloy by Samuel Beckett
Zuleika Dobson by Max Beerbohm
The Adventures of Augie March by Saul Bellow
The Uncommon Reader by Alan Bennett
Queen Lucia by EF Benson
The Ascent of Rum Doodle by WE Bowman
A Good Man in Africa by William Boyd
The History Man by Malcolm Bradbury
No Bed for Bacon by Caryl Brahms and SJ Simon
Illywhacker by Peter Carey
A Season in Sinji by JL Carr
The Harpole Report by JL Carr
The Hearing Trumpet by Leonora Carrington
Mister Johnson by Joyce Cary
The Horse's Mouth by Joyce Cary
Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes
The Case of the Gilded Fly by Edmund Crispin
Just William by Richmal Crompton
The Provincial Lady by EM Delafield
Slouching Towards Kalamazoo by Peter De Vries
The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens
Martin Chuzzlewit by Charles Dickens
Jacques the Fatalist and his Master by Denis Diderot
A Fairy Tale of New York by JP Donleavy
The Commitments by Roddy Doyle
Ennui by Maria Edgeworth
Cheese by Willem Elsschot
Bridget Jones's Diary by Helen Fielding
Joseph Andrews by Henry Fielding
Tom Jones by Henry Fielding
Caprice by Ronald Firbank
Bouvard et Pécuchet by Gustave Flaubert
Towards the End of the Morning by Michael Frayn
The Polygots by William Gerhardie
Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons
Dead Souls by Nikolai Gogol
Oblomov by Ivan Goncharov
The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame
Brewster's Millions by Richard Greaves (George Barr McCutcheon)
Squire Haggard's Journal by Michael Green
Our Man in Havana by Graham Greene
Travels with My Aunt by Graham Greene
Diary of a Nobody by George Grossmith
The Little World of Don Camillo by Giovanni Guareschi
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon
Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
Mr Blandings Builds His Dream House by Eric Hodgkins
High Fidelity by Nick Hornby
I Served the King of England by Bohumil Hrabal
The Lecturer's Tale by James Hynes
Mr Norris Changes Trains by Christopher Isherwood
The Mighty Walzer Howard by Jacobson
Pictures from an Institution by Randall Jarrell
Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K Jerome
Finnegans Wake by James Joyce
The Castle by Franz Kafka
Lake Wobegon Days by Garrison Keillor
Death and the Penguin by Andrey Kurkov
The Debt to Pleasure by John Lanchester
L'Histoire de Gil Blas de Santillane (Gil Blas) Alain-René Lesage
Changing Places by David Lodge
Nice Work by David Lodge
The Towers of Trebizond by Rose Macaulay
England, Their England by AG Macdonell
Whisky Galore by Compton Mackenzie
Memoirs of a Gnostic Dwarf by David Madsen
Cakes and Ale - Or, the Skeleton in the Cupboard by W Somerset Maugham
Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin
Bright Lights, Big City by Jay McInerney
Puckoon by Spike Milligan
The Restraint of Beasts by Magnus Mills
Charade by John Mortimer
Titmuss Regained by John Mortimer
Under the Net by Iris Murdoch
Pnin by Vladimir Nabokov
Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov
Fireflies by Shiva Naipaul
The Sacred Book of the Werewolf by Victor Pelevin
La Disparition by Georges Perec
Les Revenentes by Georges Perec
La Vie Mode d'Emploi by Georges Perec
My Search for Warren Harding by Robert Plunkett
A Dance to the Music of Time by Anthony Powell
A Time to be Born by Dawn Powell
Excellent Women by Barbara Pym
Less Than Angels by Barbara Pym
Zazie in the Metro by Raymond Queneau
Solomon Gursky Was Here by Mordecai Richler
Alms for Oblivion by Simon Raven
Portnoy's Complaint by Philip Roth
The Westminster Alice by Saki
The Unbearable Bassington by Saki
Hurrah for St Trinian's by Ronald Searle
Great Apes by Will Self
Porterhouse Blue by Tom Sharpe
Blott on the Landscape by Tom Sharpe
Office Politics by Wilfrid Sheed
Belles Lettres Papers: A Novel by Charles Simmons
Moo by Jane Smiley
Topper Takes a Trip by Thorne Smith
The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom by Tobias Smollett
The Adventures of Roderick Random by Tobias Smollett
The Adventures of Peregrine Pickle by Tobias Smollett
The Expedition of Humphry Clinker by Tobias Smollett
The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Spark
The Girls of Slender Means by Muriel Spark
The Driver's Seat by Muriel Spark
Loitering with Intent by Muriel Spark
A Far Cry from Kensington by Muriel Spark
The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman by Laurence Sterne
White Man Falling by Mike Stocks
Handley Cross by RS Surtees
A Tale of a Tub by Jonathan Swift
Penrod by Booth Tarkington
The Luck of Barry Lyndon by William Makepeace Thackeray
Before Lunch by Angela Thirkell
Tropic of Ruislip by Leslie Thomas
A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole
Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope
Venus on the Half-Shell by Kilgore Trout
The Mysterious Stranger by Mark Twain
The Witches of Eastwick by John Updike
Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut
Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace
Decline and Fall by Evelyn Waugh
Vile Bodies by Evelyn Waugh
Black Mischief by Evelyn Waugh
Scoop by Evelyn Waugh
The Loved One by Evelyn Waugh
A Handful of Dust by Evelyn Waugh
The Life and Loves of a She-Devil by Fay Weldon
Tono Bungay by HG Wells
Molesworth by Geoffrey Willans and Ronald Searle
The Wimbledon Poisoner by Nigel Williams
Anglo-Saxon Attitudes by Angus Wilson
Something Fresh by PG Wodehouse
Piccadilly Jim by PG Wodehouse
Thank You Jeeves by PG Wodehouse
Heavy Weather by PG Wodehouse
The Code of the Woosters by PG Wodehouse
Joy in the Morning by PG Wodehouse

Crime

The Man with the Golden Arm by Nelson Algren
Fantomas by Marcel Allain and Pierre Souvestre
The Mask of Dimitrios by Eric Ambler
Epitaph for a Spy by Eric Ambler
Journey into Fear by Eric Ambler
The New York Trilogy by Paul Auster
Trent's Last Case by EC Bentley
The Poisoned Chocolates Case by Anthony Berkeley
The Beast Must Die by Nicholas Blake
Lady Audley's Secret by Mary E Braddon
The Neon Rain by James Lee Burke
The Tin Roof Blowdown by James Lee Burke
The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan
Greenmantle by John Buchan
The Asphalt Jungle by WR Burnett
The Postman Always Rings Twice by James M Cain
Double Indemnity by James M Cain
True History of the Ned Kelly Gang by Peter Carey
The Hollow Man by John Dickson Carr
The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler
The Long Goodbye by Raymond Chandler
No Orchids for Miss Blandish by James Hadley Chase
The Riddle of the Sands by Erskine Childers
And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie
The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie
The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie
The Murder at the Vicarage by Agatha Christie
The Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie
The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins
The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins
A Study in Scarlet by Arthur Conan Doyle
The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle
The Sign of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle
The Manchurian Candidate by Richard Condon
The Secret Agent by Joseph Conrad
Under Western Eyes by Joseph Conrad
Postmortem by Patricia Cornwell
The Andromeda Strain by Michael Crichton
Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton
Poetic Justice by Amanda Cross
The Ipcress File by Len Deighton
Last Seen Wearing by Colin Dexter
The Remorseful Day by Colin Dexter
Ratking by Michael Dibdin
Dead Lagoon by Michael Dibdin
Dirty Tricks by Michael Dibdin
A Rich Full Death by Michael Dibdin
Vendetta by Michael Dibdin
Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky
An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser
My Cousin Rachel by Daphne du Maurier
The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
The Pledge by Friedrich Durrenmatt
The Crime of Father Amado by José Maria de Eça de Queiroz
The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco
American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
LA Confidential by James Ellroy
The Big Nowhere by James Ellroy
A Quiet Belief in Angels by RJ Ellory
Sanctuary by William Faulkner
Casino Royale by Ian Fleming
Goldfinger by Ian Fleming
You Only Live Twice by Ian Fleming
The Day of the Jackal by Frederick Forsyth
Brighton Rock by Graham Greene
A Gun for Sale by Graham Greene
The Ministry of Fear by Graham Greene
The Third Man by Graham Greene
A Time to Kill by John Grisham
The King of Torts by John Grisham
Hangover Square by Patrick Hamilton
The Glass Key by Dashiell Hammett
The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett
Red Harvest by Dashiell Hammett
The Thin Man by Dashiell Hammett
Fatherland by Robert Harris
Black Sunday by Thomas Harris
Red Dragon by Thomas Harris
Tourist Season by Carl Hiaasen
The Friends of Eddie Coyle by George V Higgins
Strangers on a Train by Patricia Highsmith
The Talented Mr Ripley by Patricia Highsmith
Bones and Silence by Reginald Hill
A Rage in Harlem by Chester Himes
Miss Smilla's Feeling for Snow by Peter Hoeg
Rogue Male by Geoffrey Household
Malice Aforethought by Francis Iles
Silence of the Grave by Arnadur Indridason
Death at the President's Lodging by Michael Innes
Cover Her Face by PD James
A Taste for Death by PD James
Friday the Rabbi Slept Late by Harry Kemelman
Misery by Stephen King
Dolores Claiborne by Stephen King
Kim by Rudyard Kipling
The Constant Gardener by John le Carre
Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy by John le Carre
The Spy Who Came in from the Cold by John le Carre
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
52 Pick-up by Elmore Leonard
Get Shorty by Elmore Leonard
Motherless Brooklyn by Jonathan Lethem
The Bourne Identity by Robert Ludlum
Cop Hater by Ed McBain
No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy
Enduring Love by Ian McEwan
Sidetracked by Henning Mankell
Devil in a Blue Dress by Walter Mosley
The Great Impersonation by E Phillips Oppenheim
The Strange Borders of Palace Crescent by E Phillips Oppenheim
My Name is Red by Orhan Pamuk
Toxic Shock by Sara Paretsky
Blacklist by Sara Paretsky
Nineteen Seventy Four by David Peace
Nineteen Seventy Seven by David Peace
The Big Blowdown by George Pelecanos
Hard Revolution by George Pelecanos
Lush Life by Richard Price
The Godfather by Mario Puzo
V by Thomas Pynchon
The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon
Black and Blue by Ian Rankin
The Hanging Gardens by Ian Rankin
Exit Music by Ian Rankin
Judgment in Stone by Ruth Rendell
Live Flesh by Ruth Rendell
Dissolution by CJ Sansom
Whose Body? by Dorothy L Sayers
Murder Must Advertise by Dorothy Le Sayers
The Madman of Bergerac by Georges Simenon
The Blue Room by Georges Simenon
The Laughing Policeman by Maj Sjowall and Per Wahloo
Gorky Park by Martin Cruz Smith
Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
The League of Frightened Men by Rex Stout
Perfume by Patrick Suskind
The Secret History by Donna Tartt
The Daughter of Time by Josephine Tey
The Getaway by Jim Thompson
Pudd'nhead Wilson by Mark Twain
A Dark-Adapted Eye by Barbara Vine
A Fatal inversion by Barbara Vine
King Solomon's Carpet by Barbara Vine
The Four Just Men by Edgar Wallace
Fingersmith by Sarah Waters
Native Son by Richard Wright
Therese Raquin by Emile Zola

Family and self

The Face of Another by Kobo Abe
Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
Behind the Scenes at the Museum by Kate Atkinson
Cat's Eye by Margaret Atwood
Epileptic by David B
Room Temperature by Nicholson Baker
Eugenie Grandet by Honore de Balzac
Le Pere Goriot by Honore de Balzac
The Crow Road by Iain Banks
The L Shaped Room by Lynne Reid Banks
Fun Home by Alison Bechdel
Malone Dies by Samuel Beckett
A Legacy by Sybille Bedford
Herzog by Saul Bellow
Humboldt's Gift by Saul Bellow
The Old Wives' Tale by Arnold Bennett
G by John Berger
Extinction by Thomas Bernhard
Two Serious Ladies by Jane Bowles
Any Human Heart by William Boyd
The Death of Virgil by Hermann Broch
Evelina by Fanny Burney
The Way of All Flesh by Samuel Butler
The Sound of my Voice by Ron Butlin
The Outsider by Albert Camus
Wise Children by Angela Carter
The Professor's House by Willa Cather
The Wapshot Chronicle by John Cheever
The Awakening by Kate Chopin
Les Enfants Terrible by Jean Cocteau
The Vagabond by Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette
Manservant and Maidservant by Ivy Compton-Burnett
Being Dead by Jim Crace
Quarantine by Jim Crace
The Mandarins by Simone de Beauvoir
Roxana by Daniel Defoe
Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky
My New York Diary by Julie Doucet
The Millstone by Margaret Drabble
My Family and Other Animals by Gerald Durrell
Silence by Shusaku Endo
The Gathering by Anne Enright
Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner
The Sportswriter by Richard Ford
Howards End by EM Forster
Spies by Michael Frayn
Hideous Kinky by Esther Freud
The Man of Property by John Galsworthy
Mary Barton by Elizabeth Gaskell
The Immoralist by Andre Gide
The Vatican Cellars by Andre Gide
The Vicar of Wakefield by Oliver Goldsmith
The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene
Hunger by Knut Hamsun
The Shrimp and the Anemone by LP Hartley
The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway
Steppenwolf by Herman Hesse
Narziss and Goldmund by Hermann Hesse
The Three Paradoxes by Paul Hornschemeier
Tom Brown's Schooldays by Thomas Hughes
A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving
The Ambassadors by Henry James
Washington Square by Henry James
The Tortoise and the Hare by Elizabeth Jenkins
The Unfortunates by BS Johnson
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce
Ulysses by James Joyce
Good Behaviour by Molly Keane
Memet my Hawk by Yasar Kemal
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey
The Buddha of Suburbia by Hanif Kureishi
Sons and Lovers by DH Lawrence
Cider with Rosie by Laurie Lee
Invitation to the Waltz by Rosamond Lehmann
The Golden Notebook by Doris Lessing
How Green was My Valley by Richard Llewellyn
Martin Eden by Jack London
Under the Volcano by Malcolm Lowry
The Member of the Wedding by Carson McCullers
Palace Walk by Naguib Mahfouz
The Assistant by Bernard Malamud
Buddenbrooks by Thomas Mann
The Chateau by William Maxwell
The Rector's Daughter by FM Mayor
The Ordeal of Richard Feverek by George Meredith
Family Matters by Rohinton Mistry
Sour Sweet by Timothy Mo
The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne by Brian Moore
The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison
Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison
Who Do You Think You Are? by Alice Munro
The Black Prince by Iris Murdoch
The Man Without Qualities by Robert Musil
A House for Mr Biswas by VS Naipaul
At-Swim-Two-Birds by Flann O'Brien
Teach Us to Outgrow Our Madness by Kezaburo Oe
The Moviegoer by Walker Percy
The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
My Name Is Asher Lev by Chaim Potok
The Good Companions by JB Priestley
The Shipping News by E Annie Proulx
Remembrance of Things Past by Marcel Proust
A Married Man by Piers Paul Read
Pointed Roofs by Dorothy Richardson
The Fortunes of Richard Mahoney by Henry Handel Richardson
Call it Sleep by Henry Roth
Julie, ou la Nouvelle Heloise by Jean-Jacques Rousseau
The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy
The Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger
Alberta and Jacob by Cora Sandel
A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth
Unless by Carol Shields
We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver
The Three Sisters by May Sinclair
The Family Moskat or The Manor or The Estate by Isaac Bashevis Singer
A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley
On Beauty by Zadie Smith
The Man Who Loved Children by Christina Stead
East of Eden by John Steinbeck
Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfield
Confessions of Zeno by Italo Svevo
The Magnificent Ambersons by Booth Tarkington
Angel by Elizabeth Taylor
Lark Rise to Candleford by Flora Thompson
The Blackwater Lightship by Colm Toibin
The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13 3/4 by Sue Townsend
Death in Summer by William Trevor
Fathers and Sons by Ivan Turgenev
Peace in War by Miguel de Unamuno
The Rabbit Omnibus by John Updike
The Color Purple by Alice Walker
Jimmy Corrigan, The Smarest Kid on Earth by Chris Ware
Morvern Callar by Alan Warner
The History of Mr Polly by HG Wells
The Fountain Overflows by Rebecca West
Frost in May by Antonia White
The Tree of Man by Patrick White
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson
I'll Go to Bed at Noon by Gerard Woodward
To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
Swiss Family Robinson by Johann David Wyss

Love

Le Grand Meaulnes by Henri Alain-Fournier
Dom Casmurro Joaquim by Maria Machado de Assis
Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen
Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Mansfield Park by Jane Austen
Emma by Jane Austen
Persuasion by Jane Austen
Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin
Nightwood by Djuna Barnes
The Garden of the Finzi-Cortinis by Giorgio Bassani
Love for Lydia by HE Bates
More Die of Heartbreak by Saul Bellow
Lorna Doone by RD Blackmore
The Death of the Heart by Elizabeth Bowen
The Heat of the Day by Elizabeth Bowen
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Vilette by Charlotte Bronte
Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
Look At Me by Anita Brookner
Rubyfruit Jungle by Rita Mae Brown
Possession by AS Byatt
Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote
Oscar and Lucinda by Peter Carey
A Month in the Country by JL Carr
My Antonia by Willa Cather
A Lost Lady by Willa Cather
Claudine a l'ecole by Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette
Cheri by Sidonie-Gabrielle Collette
Victory: An Island Tale by Joseph Conrad
The Princess of Cleves by Madame de Lafayette
The Parasites by Daphne du Maurier
Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
The Lover by Marguerite Duras
Adam Bede by George Eliot
Daniel Deronda by George Eliot
The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot
The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides
The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald
Tender is the Night by F Scott Fitzgerald
The Blue Flower by Penelope Fitzgerald
Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
The Good Soldier by Ford Madox Ford
A Room with a View by EM Forster
The French Lieutenant's Woman by John Fowles
The Snow Goose by Paul Gallico
Ruth by Elizabeth Gaskell
Strait is the Gate by Andre Gide
Sunset Song by Lewis Grassic Gibbon
The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang Goethe
Living by Henry Green
The End of the Affair by Graham Greene
The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall
Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy
Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy
Tess of the D'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy
The Woodlanders by Thomas Hardy
The Go-Between by LP Hartley
The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne
The Transit of Venus by Shirley Hazzard
A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway
The Infamous Army by Georgette Heyer
Regency Buck by Georgette Heyer
The Swimming-Pool Library by Alan Hollinghurst
Green Mansions: A Romance of the Tropical Forest by WH Hudson
Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
Crome Yellow by Aldous Huxley
The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro
Portrait of a Lady by Henry James
The Wings of the Dove by Henry James
The Piano Teacher by Elfriede Jelinek
Beauty and Saddness by Yasunari Kawabata
The Far Pavillions by Mary Margaret Kaye
Zorba the Greek by Nikos Kazantzakis
Moon over Africa by Pamela Kent
The Book of Laughter and Forgetting by Milan Kundera
The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera
Les Liaisons Dangereuses by Pierre-Ambroise-Francois Choderlos de Laclos
Lady Chatterley's Lover by DH Lawrence
The Rainbow by DH Lawrence
Women in Love by DH Lawrence
The Echoing Grove by Rosamond Lehmann
The Weather in the Streets by Rosamond Lehmann
Gentlemen Prefer Blondes by Anita Loos
Zami by Audre Lorde
Foreign Affairs by Alison Lurie
Samarkand by Amin Maalouf
Death in Venice by Thomas Mann
The Silent Duchess by Dacia Maraini
A Heart So White by Javier Marias
Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Of Human Bondage by Somerset Maugham
So Long, See you Tomorrow by William Maxwell
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers
Atonement by Ian McEwan
The Child in Time by Ian McEwan
The Egoist by George Meredith
Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller
Patience and Sarah by Isabel Miller
Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
The Pursuit of Love by Nancy Mitford
Love in a Cold Climate by Nancy Mitford
Arturo's Island by Elsa Morante
Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami
Lolita, or the Confessions of a White Widowed Male by Vladimir Nabokov
The Painter of Signs by RK Narayan
Delta of Venus by Anais Nin
All Souls Day by Cees Nooteboom
The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje
Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak
Manon Lescaut by Abbe Prevost
Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys
Maurice Guest by Henry Handel Richardson
Pamela by Samuel Richardson
Clarissa by Samuel Richardson
Gilead by Marilynne Robinson
Bonjour Tristesse by Francoise Sagan
Ali and Nino by Kurban Said
Light Years by James Salter
A Sport and a Passtime by James Salter
The Reader by Benhardq Schlink
The Reluctant Orphan by Aara Seale
Love Story by Eric Segal
Enemies, a Love Story by Isaac Bashevis Singer
At Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept by Elizabeth Smart
I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith
The Map of Love by Ahdaf Soueif
Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann
Waterland by Graham Swift
Diary of a Mad Old Man by Junichiro Tanizaki
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
Music and Silence by Rose Tremain
First Love by Ivan Turgenev
Breathing Lessons by Anne Tyler
The Accidental Tourist by Anne Tyler
The Night Watch by Sarah Waters
The Graduate by Charles Webb
The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton
The Passion by Jeanette Winterson
East Lynne by Ellen Wood
Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates

Science fiction and fantasy

The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
Non-Stop by Brian W Aldiss
Foundation by Isaac Asimov
The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood
The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood
In the Country of Last Things by Paul Auster
The Drowned World by JG Ballard
Crash by JG Ballard
Millennium People by JG Ballard
The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks
Consider Phlebas by Iain M Banks
Weaveworld by Clive Barker
Darkmans by Nicola Barker
The Time Ships by Stephen Baxter
Darwin's Radio by Greg Bear
Vathek by William Beckford
The Stars My Destination by Alfred Bester
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
Lost Souls by Poppy Z Brite
Wieland by Charles Brockden Brown
Rogue Moon by Algis Budrys
The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
The Coming Race by EGEL Bulwer-Lytton
A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
The End of the World News by Anthony Burgess
A Princess of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs
Naked Lunch by William Burroughs
Kindred by Octavia Butler
Erewhon by Samuel Butler
The Baron in the Trees by Italo Calvino
The Influence by Ramsey Campbell
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There by Lewis Carroll
Nights at the Circus by Angela Carter
The Passion of New Eve by Angela Carter
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon
The Man who was Thursday by GK Chesterton
Childhood's End by Arthur C Clarke
Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke
Hello Summer, Goodbye by Michael G Coney
Girlfriend in a Coma by Douglas Coupland
House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski
Pig Tales by Marie Darrieussecq
The Einstein Intersection by Samuel R Delaney
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K Dick
The Man in the High Castle by Philip K Dick
Camp Concentration by Thomas M Disch
Foucault's Pendulum by Umberto Eco
Under the Skin by Michel Faber
The Magus by John Fowles
American Gods by Neil Gaiman
Red Shift by Alan Garner
Neuromancer by William Gibson
Herland by Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Lord of the Flies by William Golding
The Forever War by Joe Haldeman
Light by M John Harrison
The House of the Seven Gables by Nathaniel Hawthorne
Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A Heinlein
Dune by Frank L Herbert
The Glass Bead Game by Herman Hesse
Riddley Walker by Russell Hoban
The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner by James Hogg
Atomised by Michel Houellebecq
Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
The Unconsoled by Kazuo Ishiguro
The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson
The Turn of the Screw by Henry James
The Children of Men by PD James
After London; or, Wild England by Richard Jefferies
Bold as Love by Gwyneth Jones
The Trial by Franz Kafka
Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes
The Shining by Stephen King
The Victorian Chaise-longue by Marghanita Laski
Uncle Silas by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
The Earthsea Series by Ursula Le Guin
The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula Le Guin
Solaris by Stanislaw Lem
Memoirs of a Survivor by Doris Lessing
The Chronicles of Narnia by CS Lewis
The Monk by Matthew Lewis
A Voyage to Arcturus by David Lindsay
The Night Sessions by Ken Macleod
Beyond Black by Hilary Mantel
Only Forward by Michael Marshall Smith
I Am Legend by Richard Matheson
Melmoth the Wanderer by Charles Maturin
The Butcher Boy by Patrick McCabe
The Road by Cormac McCarthy
Ascent by Jed Mercurio
The Scar by China Mieville
Ingenious Pain by Andrew Miller
A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M Miller Jr
Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell
Mother London by Michael Moorcock
News from Nowhere by William Morris
Beloved by Toni Morrison
The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami
Ada or Ardor by Vladimir Nabokov
The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
Ringworld by Larry Niven
Vurt by Jeff Noon
The Third Policeman by Flann O'Brien
The Famished Road by Ben Okri
Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell
Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk
Nightmare Abbey by Thomas Love Peacock
Titus Groan by Mervyn Peake
The Space Merchants by Frederik Pohl and CM Kornbluth
A Glastonbury Romance by John Cowper Powys
The Discworld Series by Terry Pratchett
The Prestige by Christopher Priest
His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman
Gargantua and Pantagruel by Francois Rabelais
The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe
Revelation Space by Alastair Reynolds
The Years of Rice and Salt by Kim Stanley Robinson
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by JK Rowling
Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie
The Female Man by Joanna Russ
Air by Geoff Ryman
The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Blindness by Jose Saramago
How the Dead Live by Will Self
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
Hyperion by Dan Simmons
Star Maker by Olaf Stapledon
Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson
The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson
Dracula by Bram Stoker
The Insult by Rupert Thomson
The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien
The Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien
A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court by Mark Twain
Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut
The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole
Institute Benjamenta by Robert Walser
Lolly Willowes by Sylvia Townsend Warner
Affinity by Sarah Waters
The Time Machine by HG Wells
The War of the Worlds by HG Wells
The Sword in the Stone by TH White
The Old Men at the Zoo by Angus Wilson
The Book of the New Sun by Gene Wolfe
Orlando by Virginia Woolf
Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham
The Midwich Cuckoos by John Wyndham
We by Yevgeny Zamyatin

State of the nation

Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe
Anthills of the Savannah by Chinua Achebe
London Fields by Martin Amis
Untouchable by Mulk Raj Anand
Go Tell it on the Mountain by James Baldwin
La Comedie Humaine by Honore de Balzac
They Were Counted by Miklos Banffy
A Kind of Loving by Stan Barstow
Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe
Oroonoko, or The Royal Slave by Aphra Behn
Clayhanger by Arnold Bennett
The Last September by Elizabeth Bowen
Room at the Top by John Braine
A Dry White Season by Andre Brink
Shirley by Charlotte Bronte
Earthly Powers by Anthony Burgess
The Virgin in the Garden by AS Byatt
Tobacco Road by Erskine Caldwell
The Plague by Albert Camus
The Kingdom of this World by Alejo Carpentier
What a Carve Up! by Jonathan Coe
Disgrace by JM Coetzee
Waiting for the Barbarians by JM Coeztee
Microserfs by Douglas Coupland
Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe
Underworld by Don DeLillo
White Noise by Don DeLillo
A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
Bleak House by Charles Dickens
Dombey and Son by Charles Dickens
Hard Times by Charles Dickens
Little Dorritt by Charles Dickens
Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens
Play It As It Lays by Joan Didion
Sybil or The Two Nations by Benjamin Disraeli
Berlin Alexanderplatz by Alfred Döblin
The Book of Daniel by EL Doctorow
Notes from the Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky
The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky
USA by John Dos Passos
Sister Carrie by Theodor Dreiser
Castle Rackrent by Maria Edgeworth
Middlemarch by George Eliot
Silas Marner by George Eliot
The Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
Sentimental Education by Gustave Flaubert
Effi Briest by Theodore Fontane
Independence Day by Richard Ford
A Passage to India by EM Forster
The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen
The Recognitions by William Gaddis
Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell
North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell
The Counterfeiters by Andre Gide
The Odd Women by George Gissing
New Grub Street by George Gissing
July's People by Nadine Gordimer
Mother by Maxim Gorky
Lanark by Alastair Gray
Love on the Dole by Walter Greenwood
The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy
A Kestrel for a Knave by Barry Hines
The Line of Beauty by Alan Hollinghurst
South Riding by Winifred Holtby
Les Miserables by Victor Hugo
Goodbye to Berlin by Christopher Isherwood
Chronicle in Stone by Ismael Kadare
How Late it Was, How Late by James Kelman
The Leopard by Giuseppi di Lampedusa
A Girl in Winter by Philip Larkin
Passing by Nella Larsen
The Grass is Singing by Doris Lessing
Babbitt by Sinclair Lewis
Elmer Gantry by Sinclair Lewis
Main Street by Sinclair Lewis
Absolute Beginners by Colin MacInnes
The Group by Mary McCarthy
Amongst Women by John McGahern
The Posthumous Memoirs of Bras Cubas by Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis
Of Love & Hunger by Julian Maclaren-Ross
Remembering Babylon by David Malouf
The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann
The Betrothed by Alessandro Manzoni
Bel-Ami by Guy de Maupassant
A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry
The Time of Indifference by Alberto Moravia
A Bend in the River by VS Naipaul
McTeague by Frank Norris
Personality by Andrew O'Hagan
Animal Farm by George Orwell
The Ragazzi Pier by Paolo Pasolini
Cry, the Beloved Country by Alan Paton
The Moon and the Bonfire by Cesare Pavese
GB84 by David Peace
Headlong Hall by Thomas Love Peacock
Afternoon Men by Anthony Powell
Vineland by Thomas Pynchon
The Radetzky March by Joseph Roth
American Pastoral by Philip Roth
The Human Stain by Philip Roth
Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie
Shame by Salman Rushdie
To Each his Own by Leonardo Sciascia
Staying On by Paul Scott
Last Exit to Brooklyn by Hubert Selby Jr
The Lonely Londoners by Samuel Selvon
God's Bit of Wood by Ousmane Sembene
The Case of Comrade Tulayev by Victor Serge
Richshaw Boy by Lao She
Saturday Night and Sunday Morning by Alan Sillitoe
The Jungle by Upton Sinclair
Novel on Yellow Paper by Stevie Smith
White Teeth by Zadie Smith
One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovtich by Alexandr Solzhenitsyn
The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
The Red and the Black by Stendhal
This Sporting Life by David Storey
The Red Room by August Stringberg
The Home and the World by Rabindranath Tagore
Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray
The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell
The Last Chronicle of Barset by Anthony Trollope
The Way We Live Now by Anthony Trollope
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain
Couples by John Updike
Z by Vassilis Vassilikos
Billy Liar by Keith Waterhouse
Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh
The Day of the Locust by Nathanael West
The Return of the Soldier by Rebecca West
The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton
The Bonfire of the Vanities by Tom Wolfe
Germinal by Emile Zola
La Bete Humaine by Emile Zola

War and travel

Silver Stallion by Junghyo Ahn
Death of a Hero by Richard Aldington
Master Georgie by Beryl Bainbridge
Darkness Falls from the Air by Nigel Balchin
Empire of the Sun by JG Ballard
Regeneration by Pat Barker
A Long Long Way by Sebastian Barry
Fair Stood the Wind for France by HE Bates
Carrie's War by Nina Bawden
The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolano
The Sheltering Sky by Paul Bowles
An Ice-Cream War by William Boyd
When the Wind Blows by Raymond Briggs
Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino
Auto-da-Fe by Elias Canetti
One of Ours by Willa Cather
Journey to the End of the Night by Louis-Ferdinand Celine
Monkey by Wu Ch'eng-en
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad
Nostromo by Joseph Conrad
Sharpe's Eagle by Bernard Cornwell
The History of Pompey the Little by Francis Coventry
The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane
Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe
Bomber by Len Deighton
Deliverance by James Dickey
Three Soldiers by John Dos Passos
South Wind by Norman Douglas
The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas
Justine by Lawrence Durrell
The Bamboo Bed by William Eastlake
The Siege of Krishnapur by JG Farrell
Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks
Parade's End by Ford Madox Ford
The African Queen by CS Forester
The Ship by CS Forester
Flashman by George MacDonald Fraser
Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier
The Beach by Alex Garland
To The Ends of the Earth trilogy by William Golding
Asterix the Gaul by Rene Goscinny
The Tin Drum by Gunter Grass
Count Belisarius by Robert Graves
Life and Fate by Vassily Grossman
De Niro's Game by Rawi Hage
King Solomon's Mines by H Rider Haggard
She: A History of Adventure by H Rider Haggard
The Slaves of Solitude by Patrick Hamilton
Covenant with Death by John Harris
Enigma by Robert Harris
The Good Soldier Svejk by Jaroslav Hasek
For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway
The Prisoner of Zenda by Anthony Hope
The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
A High Wind in Jamaica by Richard Hughes
Rasselas by Samuel Johnson
From Here to Eternity by James Jones
Andersonville by MacKinlay Kantor
Confederates by Thomas Keneally
Schindler's Ark by Thomas Keneally
Day by AL Kennedy
On the Road by Jack Kerouac
Darkness at Noon by Arthur Koestler
The Painted Bird by Jerzy Kosinski
If Not Now, When? by Primo Levi
The Call of the Wild by Jack London
The Guns of Navarone by Alistair MacLean
All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy
Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy
The Mark of Zorro by Johnston McCulley
Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurty
The Naked and the Dead by Norman Mailer
La Condition Humaine by Andre Malraux
Fortunes of War by Olivia Manning
One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The Children of the New Forest by Frederick Marryat
Moby-Dick or, The Whale by Herman Melville
Tales of the South Pacific by James Michener
The Cruel Sea by Nicholas Monsarrat
History by Elsa Morante
Suite Francaise by Irene Nemirovsky
The Sorrow of War by Bao Ninh
Master and Commander by Patrick O'Brian
The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien
The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Emmuska Orczy
Burmese Days by George Orwell
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig
The Valley of Bones by Anthony Powell
The Soldier's Art by Anthony Powell
The Military Philosophers by Anthony Powell
Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon
The Surprising Adventures of Baron Munchausen by Rudolp Erich Raspe
All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque
The Crab with the Golden Claws by Georges Remi Herge
Tintin in Tibet by Georges Remi Herge
The Castafiore Emerald by Georges Remi Herge
The Devil to Pay in the Backlands by Joao Guimaraes Rosa
Sacaramouche by Rafael Sabatini
Captain Blood by Rafael Sabatini
Everything is Illuminated by Jonathon Safran Foer
The Hunters by James Salter
Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott
The Rings of Saturn by WG Sebald
Austerlitz by WG Sebald
Black Beauty by Anna Sewell
The Young Lions by Irwin Shaw
A Town Like Alice by Nevil Shute
Maus by Art Spiegelman
The Charterhouse of Parma by Stendhal
Cryptonomicon by Neil Stephenson
A Sentimental Journey by Lawrence Sterne
Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson
Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson
A Flag for Sunrise by Robert Stone
Sophie's Choice by William Styron
Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift
War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne
A Journey to the Centre of the Earth by Jules Verne
Williwaw by Gore Vidal
Candide by Voltaire
Slaughter-House Five by Kurt Vonnegut
Put Out More Flags by Evelyn Waugh
Men at Arms by Evelyn Waugh
The Island of Dr Moreau by HG Wells
The Machine-Gunners by Robert Westall
Voss by Patrick White
The Virginian by Owen Wister
The Caine Mutiny by Herman Wouk
The Debacle by Emile Zola

Have fun!

Song of the Day - Mere Sapnon Ki Rani

2012-02-19T20:03:00.000-08:00

One of the best known of the train or travel songs 'Mere Sapnon Ki Rani' is a peppy, romantic number that has a love struck Rakesh Khanna singing from the jeep as Sujith Kumar drives their jeep parallel to the train in which an Alistair Maclean reading Sharmila Tagore is travelling. From the 1969 super hit 'Aradhana', composed by R.D. Burman who shows his emerging genius in this song, this is the anthem song of all love lorn Majnu's waiting for the Laila's nod. A must have in the travel collection.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vo1MykK4u8U

The Last Nizam - John Zubrzycki

2012-02-19T10:08:00.000-08:00

This is a fascinating book (334 p, Rs. 365, Picador India) on the Nizam's of Hyderabad, their fabulous riches of jewels, diamonds, pearls, emeralds, the abrupt termination of their rights when Hyderabad was taken over by force by the Indian government IN 1948 and mostly of the reluctant last Nizam who turned away from his state. For someone who has lived in Hyderabad for 30 odd years I am glad to have its history in place now and am utterly fascinated at the roots and past of this city. John Zubryzycki's detailed research, interviews and storytelling make this book come alive and it is a must read for all who have lived in Hyderabad surely and for anyone else interested in this story.

Though Zubryzcki starts with the Nizam's directly one must delve into history a few years before the Nizam's came into power. From 733 A.D. to 966 A.D. the Chalukyas ruled the region. When the Chalukyas were divided into four empires the Warangal-based Kakatiyas took control of the region from 1000 A.D. to 1310 A.D. Sultan Alauddin Khilji, the Turkic Afghan ruler took over the region from 1310 and it remained with that dynasty till 1321 after which it was ruled by the Tughluqs till 1347. In 1347 the Bahmani Kings who ruled the region from Gulbarga, took over control of the region until 1518.

In 1518 the Governor of Golconda Quli rebelled and established the Qutb Shahi dynasty at Golconda. It was in 1591 that Quli Qutub Shah the fifth Sultan of the Quli dynasty established Hyderabad on the banks of the Musi, moving away from the Golconda fort. Market places were set up, the historic Charminar was built (as a commemoration of the eradication of plague) the Mecca Masjid and the famous Purana Pul were built in his reign.

Golconda's diamonds are known to be the finest and were much sought after. They also were the only known source of diamond in the world until 1730 when the Brazil diamonds were discovered. The Kollur region in Guntur district had some of the most rich diamond mines which gave many of these fine jewels to the Golconda kings. A bustling diamond, pearl and jewel market operated in Golconda for which traders came from far and wide. The famed Kohinoor diamond was also mined from Kollur mines and was reportedly with the then rulers of the region, the Kakatiyas.

Naturally Golconda was desired by the Mughals. In 1687 Aurangazeb, the Mughal emperor, attacked Hyderabad and laid siege to Golconda where the rulers fled and took refuge. The siege lasted a year and ended only because on the Quli generals betrayed the kings and opened a gate for the Mughal emperor's army. Ever since, Golconda and Hyderabad were vice regalities of the Mughal emperor and continued for almost as long as 1948, despite the fact that the Mughal empire had ceased to exist.

The story of the Nizam's starts from sometime then with the appointment of a Mughal general Quamruddin as the Viceroy of Deccan with the title of Nizam-ul-mulk in 1743. The Nizam-ul-mulk was a personal favorite of Aurangazeb and the grandson of his general Khwaja Abid who died fighting for Golconda (his grave is near Himayatsagar to date). The Nizam's claim to being the Viceroy was challenged by the then Governor Mubariz Khan who was promptly beheaded and his head sent to Delhi. The accession to the throne of Golconda gave rise to the Asah Jah dynasty, or the lineage of Nizams of Hyderabad. The first Nizam-ul-Mulk ruled over from 1743-48 and laid down certain principles of how to rule the land before he died.

The British and the French were active in those days trying to gain the support of as many princely states as possible. There is a period between 1747 and 1762 that there was no Nizam recognised by the Mughal empire which was the sovereign power to which Deccan's Viceroy reported. The Nizam-ul-Mulk's oldest son Nasir Jung claimed the throne by siding with the British while Muzaffar Jung, the Nizam-ul-Mulk's grandson sided with the French. In what turns out to be straight out of a potboiler, Nasir Jung is killed by a rebel Nawab and the French claim Muzaffar Jung as the Nizam. Not long after Muzaffar is killed by the same Nawab of Kurnool, Himmat Khan, in battle. In an incredible story, though Muzaffar Jung dies early in the battle, a Hindu king who is with him on the elephant, pulls the arrow of the dead king's eye, and sitting behind him makes the body move as if the King was alive and urges the soldiers on. The battle is won by the dead king's men. In further intrigue the other heirs, the dead Muzaffar Jung's brother Salabat Jung throws two other brothers of his, Basalat Jah and Nizam Ali Khan into jail. Meanwhile Nizam-ul-Mulk's eldest son Ghazi Uddin who was in the Mughal court in Delhi returns to claim the Deccan throne with the help of Maratha armies. He is poisoned at Daulatabad by his aunt, the mother of Nizam Ali Khan. Salabat Jung ruled Deccan for eleven years without being recognised by the Mughals and his own incompetence finally leads to his being thrown into jail. The second Nizam is then recognised by the Mughals in 1962 as Nizam Ali Khan, the fourth son of Nizam-ul-Mulk.

Nizam Ali ruled for a long period (1762- 1803) and was a politician more than a fighter and played one against the other. But the British had firmly gained control over the Nizam and drove out the French who at one time had considerable influence in Hyderabad. Upon his demise the third Nizam was Nizam Ali Khan's oldest son Sikandar Jah who was not considered a great administrator. It was in his time that a Hindu money lender Chandu Lal was appointed as the de facto Diwan and he brought the finances crashing with his corruption and intrigue. So absolute was the British control that the Nizam's could not appoint anyone without their approval. Sikandar Jah ruled from 1803-1829.

The fourth Nizam was Nasir Ud Daula one of the nine sons of Sikandar Jah, though illegetimate, still the eldest. Nasir was illiterate and had a hands off approach to administration. Hyderabad's finances were at its lowest at that time as the state paid for the British army to protect it. Nasir wanted to sell the fabled Nizam diamond during that period. It was during Nasir's rule that Salar Jung, considered one of the most able administrators in India of that time became the Prime Minister. Despite all that Nasir was considered a good Nizam who was kind hearted and he ruled from 1829-1857, the year of the Mutiny. On his death Afzal Ud Daula, his son, was made the fifth Nizam. This was the period of the Sepoy Mutiny against the British, a delicate period for Hyderabad which through the offices of Salar Jung, supported the British and gained its confidence. The small Mutiny in Hyderabad was quelled. Afzal Ud Daula apparently did not like Salar Jung and wanted to dispose of him but the British supported him totally. It was Salar Jung who brought fiscal discipline and made the first steps to bring the state out of its debt.

When Afzal Ud Daula died (1857-1869) his only son Mahboob Ali Khan was two years old. Three years before Mahboob turned 18, Salar Jung died suddenly, probably poisoned. Mahboob Ali was fond of the good things in life but he was also a beloved of the masses as he went incognito to find out the troubles of the common man at night. His reign was to be known as the 'Days of the Beloved'. Mahboob would die of his excesses with the bottle but he brought communal harmony to the region and was known as a reformer. However he was guilty of signing away Berar, one of the prized possessions of the Deccan. Mahboob ruled for a long period - 1869-1911.

His son Osman Ali Khan (1911-1948) would become the seventh Nizam and the richest man in the world during his reign. Known for his long tenure, good administration, fabulous wealth, extreme stinginess Osman Ali Khan would take Hyderabad to its greatest glory until the state was merged with India in 1948 after Independence. Osman Ali Khan was the one who started the Osmania University, the High Court, the Osmania General Hospital, built schools, dams, roads, railways, collieries, power stations and many more developmental works. He also put forth many reforms including banning the practice of devdasis and made primary education compulsory. In the World War I the Nizam sided with the British though the Ottoman empire sided with Germany, thereby becoming the most faithful ally of the British and the leader of Muslims in India. However the richest man in the world was also eccentric and wore cheap cotton pyjamas, smoked and used local brands including Charminar cigarettes and bargained for trifles. His penchant to eat salt biscuits every morning with his tea probably had much to do with the famous Osmania biscuits we eat in Irani cafes. He had two sons Azam Jah and Moazzam Jah. Osman Ali Khan who had provided for the last Caliph of turkey, the heir to the Ottoman Empire, Mejid, then got the two daughters of the ex-Caliph as wives for his sons making one of the strongest alliances in the Muslim world. The two Turkish Princesses, Durreshehwar and Niloufer were well educated, highly polished and strong women. Durreshehwar would have two sons Mukarram Jah and Muffakam Jah while Niloufer would be childless and would divorce her husband.

The Nizam lost his power after India took over the dominion by force during Operation Polo. Though called Police Action, the Indian army is said to have stormed the capital of Hyderabad causing deaths that ranged from 2000 to 20,000 by estimates. The Nizam capitulated easily in two days and the Indian flag flew. The seventh Nizam had almost no powers in the new set up and built a make believe kingdom in his King Kothi palace where he adopted many children. Disgusted with his son Azam Jah's constant state of being in debt, his extravagances and extreme debauchery, Osman Ali Khan proclaimed Mukarram Jah, his grandson as his successor, a decision which irked Azam Jah no end. After Osman Ali Khan's death in 1967, after a long and glorious rule, the wealth of what is roughly estimated to be 218 billion USD (USD 2 billion in 1940, 2% of the US economy then, a time when the treasury of the Indian government had a revenue of 1 billion), its 100 million pounds of gold and silver bullion, 400 million pounds of jewels, including the Jacob's diamond, and its many complications with heirs, thieves, contestants, government regulations, tax matters and much more fell upon Mukarram Jah who was far more interested as they say, in diesel cars and mechanics.

Mukarram Jah was crowned the eighth Nizam of a kingdom that had ceased to exist, in 1968. He married five times, four Turks and one Australian. He always escaped the responsibility that awaited him at Hyderabad, one of the largest Indian princely states, the richest certainly. Thought Pandit Nehru the then Prime Minister tried to get him into diplomacy, Mukarram Jah, never took the opportunity to become a leader, a diplomat of perhaps the President even as many feel, and instead escaped to Australia where he bought himself a large ranch and sank a lot of money there, finally escaping from there as well, as his debts began to catch up with him. In India his own relatives, his son and daughter, his friends and advisors, cheated the Nizam in exile and much of the fabled wealth disappeared. Despite all this the Nizam's jewels, in vaults in banks, still are some of the most coveted and are involved in some of the largest legal imbroglios. The last Nizam meanwhile lives incognito in Turkey in a small flat, happy that he spent some fine years in Australia. In Hyderabad his properties, his palaces are slowly occupied by land grabbers and little is left of the glory of the Nizams.

It is an amazing story and there are so many more details that are so interesting about the rulers, good and bad, their foibles and failures. The description of the jewels, the 100s and 1000s of women that the Nizam's had in their zenanas, their excesses with the money, women, wine, hunting, their hundreds of progeny legitimate and illegtimate, their penchant to take what they fancied be it a palace, a car or a woman by merely expressing their liking (the Falaknuma Palace belonged to the Paigah nobles which Mahboob Ali Khan 'liked' and was gifted) is like a fairy tale. The Nizams finally felt betrayed by the British when they were left to fend for themselves after the Indian government took over but in the end it was justice finally. This was the land they took by force and ruled over the people who lived hard lives mostly, while the Nizam's lived in extreme comfort. The common peasants were squeezed by their landlords, to death sometimes, and this region is known for its extreme cases of feudalism, of landlords and its natural off shoot, naxalism from the oppressed masses. It is ironical today that not less than half a century later the city is crowded with common folk who elect their leaders, who walk through the same palaces as individuals with rights and who probably do not know of the story behind Hyderabad and its Nizams, who do not bow before anyone be it of the royal lineage of the noble lineage. Muslims, Hindus, Parsees, Sikhs and so many more people live together in harmony in an equal, democratic state where everyone has the same rights. The wheels of power have finally turned a full circle.

However much of the wealth of the Nizams will be in dispute. Raised from the people through extraordinarily high taxation, giving away of jagirs, it in many ways belongs to the people as well and should be used for their welfare. The people who built the roads, palaces, dams, tilled the lands deserve their share. Questions will be asked certainly. But for now the beleaguered Nizam and his family fights one another for the fabulous wealth that was once owned by the Princely state of Hyderabad. A must read for all Hyderabadis. And John Zubrzycki, thank you for such a fascinating book and for acquainting me with a Hyderabad I never knew.

Song of the day - Gaadi Bula Rahi Hai

2012-02-19T01:34:00.000-08:00

I heard this song first when a senior of ours at St. Gabriel's High School, Kazipet, sang it on stage for our Annual Day. It remained with me ever since. I had no clue which movie it was from and who the actors were. Just that lilting, rhythmic sounds of the train, the happy and hope filled sound of the song that filled my eleven year old heart. I heard the song here and there after and always remembered the magic of that moment when I first heard it.

Now, I see the video and find an amazingly handsome Dharmendra tavelling in the train as the titles flash by of the 1974 film 'Dost'. The lyrics cleverly use the train as a metaphor for life. It fits the travel collection anyday with its upbeat mood and sense of adventure and reflection. Listen and enjoy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i46jlVrrwdQ

How to Add Meaning to Your Life - An Inspirational Tale

2012-02-18T19:54:00.000-08:00

Reading yesterday's 'Hindu' I found this inspiring story of 56 year old L. Kanaga Subramani, a bus conductor in Tamil Nadu's State Transport Corporation, who operates on the Mettupalayam - Udhagamandalam route. When the bus stops en route for a break Subramani wishes his passengers, takes a couple of minutes of their time and recites a Thirukkural couplet. He then proceeds to explain the meaning of the couplet, leaving the passengers something positive to chew upon. Road safety, cleanliness, tree plantation, blood donation and environment protection are some of the topics he speaks upon. And then he gifts a Thirrukkural to anyone celebrating a birthday (he has been giving away one Thirukkural everyday for the past 10 years). In the absence of someone with a birthday Subramani chooses to gift it to a teacher, a student or a police officer.

Motivated by a sarcastic passenger on his bus who saw a couplet and reacted - 'Do the driver and conductor know its meaning?' - Subramani decided to read and recite Thirukkural to his passengers everyday. He also organises literary and musical events for prisoners at the Coimbatore Central prison through his Trust Senthamizh Arakattalai, rehabilitated elderly prisoners, gives pep talks in the women's prison and sings old film songs for them.

It is heartwarming to see how much meaning we can add to our lives if we only wish and make a difference to all those around us. It is never about our education, our standing, our wealth - it is all about our will. For a bus conductor to have a Trust to take up these activities, to gift Thirukkurals everyday is no joke. But Subramani has connected to a higher purpose in his life, that of making a difference to people around, in his own small way. It is clear that life is all about what we make of it.

What I found most interesting is that Subramani attributes this streak to his teacher Arpudharaj who fed and clothed him during difficult times and told him to do something for society. No good deed goes waste and Arpudharaj sir must feel as proud of his ward who has made as much out of his life and more than a big businessman or a sportsman and more. It underlines the deep impact teachers have on us and how they can change our lives. To connect then to a higher purpose and take our life to another level is the lesson that Subramani taught me and I am grateful to him for that. Well done Subramani, and keep at it. Nice article by Akila Kannadasan. Now to read the Thirukkural.

The Smurfs - Movie Review

2012-02-18T08:13:00.000-08:00

I read the comic 'King Smurf' when I was twelve and have been in a long lasting love affair with the Smurfs since then. It was a comic belonging to a friend who left it with me for two or three weeks and I read and reread the comic many times before he took it away. After that, how many times ever I tried to trace the Smurfs, I could never find them. No one had heard of them, no book stores knew of them. It was as if I had a dream about Smurfs. And now three decades later I suddenly found the Smurfs returning in a movie. I made elaborate plans to watch the movie with Anjali but by the time we actually got going the movie had left the theatres. I waited for the DVDs.

Watching the Smurfs (thankfully not in 3D) was as much fun as it was reading King Smurf. The little blue Smurfs who are as tall as three apples and live in their own Smurf land, named after their personality traits - Brainy, Gutsy, Clumsy - like Snow White's dwarfs, only a lot cuter were a delight to watch. Even Anjali got drawn into the drama and was all animated.

The story starts with Papa Smurf seeing a horrifying vision on the Blue Moon Festival day - Clumsy Smurf has led their arch enemy Gargamel the wizard into Smurf land and he has captured them. Determined to ensure that the vision does not come true Papa Smurf tells Clumsy to stay inside the village while picking Smurf roots but Clumsy goes away (but naturally) and is followed by Gargamel and his villainous cat. Gargamel enters and destroys Smurfland and chases them all to the Forbidden Falls from where the Smurfs choose an exit to the real world to being caught by G. Gargamel follows them - to New York. In New York the Smurfs find that Clumsy Smurf has fallen into a carton and chase him all the way to a young couple's house and befriend them. The Smurfs now take the help of the young couple and try to escape Gargamel and also return to their land. With Gargamel hounding them everywhere, the Smurfs somehow find it in them to find their escape route and make off but not before winning a few friends and learning some lessons thanks to Clumsy who is the unlikely hero in the end.

There are plenty of holes in the story but its interesting enough thanks to the characters. One gets the feeling that it could have been tighter and more Smurfish rather than a regular film. Reminded me of Madagascar a bit with all that New York business. The ease with which Gargamel is done away with, of for that matter how Winslow's boss lets go of a man who has made her mother forty years younger and so many bits don't add up. I loved watching the Smurfs but I did feel a bit let down. Was this the best you could do with such super characters? But still a huge thanks for getting me back in touch with my favorite characters again. Why not make 'King Smurf' into a movie next?

Song of the Day - Koi Roko Na

2012-02-17T21:45:00.000-08:00

This song from the 1977 Basu Chatterjee movie 'Priyatama' starring Jeetu, Rakesh Roshan, Neetu Singh, Asha Sachdev is another that sends the heart soaring. One of those fun songs with a carefree melody, a gang of friends, heady romance - it always gets the head moving to the tune. And also gets one humming along or whistling with the tune as it soars high up.

Another of the travel series, great for the road as one drives on with a bunch of happy friends. Listen and enjoy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQ9XKP_53l0

Koi roko na, deewane ko,
Man machal raha, Kuch gaane ko

Yeh bheega bheega mausam, yeh bheegi bheegi raahen,
Chale do hum rahi, baahon mein daale baahen,

To phoolon ne khilke, kaha yeh dil se,
Hain din suhana, mausam salona,
Daaman se baandh lo, pyaara samah

Can't remember when I first heard this song, but I always loved it. Also love the Basu Chatterjee trademark of middle class life in Bombay in the 70s with all its frailties, aspirations and joy. A time, a mood, lost forever.

The Paradoxes of Life - The Approval Paradox

2012-02-17T21:36:00.001-08:00

Asking favors is likely to get one closer to people, than not asking for favors.

This is brilliant. Most people think that they can get closer to people, or rather that they can get people to like them by doing them favors. Buying gifts, calling them for parties, giving money etc. This method could have its own set of downsides attached such as expectations and resentment. Mostly it is known as a failed method of getting closer to people. People do not somehow value people giving them unwanted stuff.

However, the one who asks favors (instead of doing them one) is the one who gets closer to people. He or she makes the other person feel greater, bigger and thereby opens a new bond between them. Nothing works better to a person's heart than the seeking of an honest favor.

To ask, however, one must let go of the ego that one is above asking anything. And by asking, one finds that people tend to draw them closer, take care of them and love them for the simple fact that they have recognised some worth in them. (It can be used deviously by some and has been all through history.) But a genuine request for favor (especially from those from whom they are not asked normally) can bring the most unexpected friendships, mentors and benefactors. It kills the ego and brings great loyalty, friendship and following,

To get closer to people, to enter their hearts, ask them a favor.

Song of the day - Chala Jaata Hoon

2012-02-17T00:59:00.000-08:00

This song from the 1972 movie 'Mere Jeevan Saathi' was wonderfully sung by Ramesh at our Osmania University College of Commerce and Business Management in those 1989-1990 years. A superb singer, especially of Kishore Kumar classics, Ramesh hardly needed any provocation to belt out this number. His yodelling was superb and his love for the song and singing came through in the way he sang this number. In the college corridors, in booze parties later at night, on walks and in functions I have heard Ramesh sing this song many times. Probably more times than the original itself. Another of those peppy travel songs, it is bound to lift the spirit anytime. Thanks Ramesh, Kishore Kumar and Majrooh Sultanpuri.

Click on the link and enjoy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8uv8r9pD_rc

Throne of Blood - Movie Review

2012-02-17T00:53:00.000-08:00

This is originally a Japanese film 'Kumonosu-jo' directed by Akira Kurosawa, an adaptation of Macbeth. The movie begins with the Lord of the region waiting in the castle, listening to reports about an enemy attack. The mood is sombre as the enemy is gaining upper hand but miraculously his two generals Miki and Washizu turn it around, chase the enemy away and win the battle. They return to the Lord from their posts amidst thick fog in which they lose their way many times. While returning they run into a spirit in the forest that foretells their future - that Miki will be leader of Fort One and Washizu the commander of North Gate. But it does not end its forecast there and predicts that Washizu will become the Lord and Miki's son as well.

The two warriors get their promotions exactly as predicted by the spirit. Washizu's wife is in a hurry that her husband be Lord and provokes her husband to kill the Lord when he visits the North Gate on a hunting trip. Washizu and his men chase the Lord's son and another faithful, but they escape. At the castle Miki tells Washizu to become the next leader and also adopt his son, since Washizu has no son anyway, as the spirit had forecast. It is then that Washizu's wife tells him that she is pregnant and complicates things. Miki does not come to the banquet offered by Washizu in celebration of his becoming the Lord. Instead Miki's head is brought there His son escapes and joins the enemy along with the young master and the other general.

Washizu sees the forest spirit sitting in his banquet and in his fear blurts out the truth of having killed the Lord. His wife covers it up to the other officials at the banquet but the damage is done. The pregnant wife loses the child and goes crazy trying to wash the imaginary blood off her hand. Washizu's castle is under siege by the enemy. When he meets the forest spirit again, it tells him that he will not lose until the spider web jungle moves Thinking this to be impossible Washizu is convinced of his victory and relates the story to his forces to make them believe in their invincibility. But then the forest actually moves as the enemy uses the branches as cover and moves closer to the castle which has a difficult approach. Washizu's own army kills him for his betrayal of his Lord.

This is easily the best adaptation of Macbeth I have seen. It is told so lucidly and clearly without making any fancy departures from the original - something which filmmakers tend to make when they adapt stories. I can't remember the original story better than by seeing this film. As always Akira Kurosawa leaves great impact on the viewer with superbly conceived images, tight screenplay and minimal dialogue. Washizu (who is played by Toshiro Mifune and who appears in most Kurosawa movies) plays Macbeth, a bit too loudly for my liking, but he is fantastic as the samurai general. His posture and demeanour is aggressive, alert and angry. Apparently the castle scenes were shot on Mt. Fuji where there is a great amount of fog. Akira Kurosawa excels in the action scenes with the horses and the last scene where the soldiers mutiny against Washizu and shoot arrows at him gains even more significance when we realise that they used real arrows for that scene. You cannot forget some of the scenes ever. Frankly I'd never fully remember Macbeth even after so many readings and viewings but now, I think its sealed.

Song of the day - Musafir Hoon Yaaron

2012-02-15T20:49:00.000-08:00

This song from Parichay always picks up the spirits. Deeply philosophical on one hand and melodious to listen to, 'Musafir Hoon Yaaron' also has Jeetendra in an unlikely role of a slightly introverted teacher. It leaves one feeling upbeat, peppy and optimistic about life.

'Musafir hoon yaaron, na ghar hai na thikana,
Mujhe chalte jaana hai, Bas chalte jaana'

'Ek raah ruk gayi toh aur jud gayi,
Main muda to saath saath raah mud gayi,
Hawa ke paron par mera aashiyana'

'Din ne haath thaam kar, idhar bitha liya,
Raat ne ishare se, udhar bula liya,
Subah se shaam se mera dostana'

I must have seen the movie when I was a kid but it left a deep impact on me. Lots of shots of the open sky through trees, Jeetendra looking up to the heavens as he walks by. None more so than this song for its melody, lyrics and the feeling of freedom and openness. Great one for the day.

Click the link to enjoy the song.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6GDG7E1fUkU

The Reincarnation of Peter Proud - Movie Review

2012-02-15T02:15:00.000-08:00

I had only heard that 'Karz' the Hindi movie was based on this strange sounding movie. Finally got to see this 1975 thriller based on the concept of reincarnation on Raja's recommendation.

Professor Peter Proud is hounded by recurring dreams where he sees people, places and finally one naked chap who is murdered by a woman who he calls out to as Marcia. Proud can't sleep with these recurring dreams of a rather unpleasant nature and consults a doctor who is doing some research on dreams. Doctor's research finds that though Peter Proud has been dreaming away, his machines are not recording them. The troubled Peter Proud catches a building on television that appears like the one in his dream (who says tv is bad?) and follows it up. The place is in Massachussets and he goes there and finds the places he keeps seeing, the people he wants to meet. He sees the bungalow where the man in his dreams is killed. By now he knows he is the dead man, finds the murderess who is the wife, finds and falls in love with the daughter (who is funnily his own from his previous birth). When the murderess wife realises that he is the reborn man whom, she killed (and successfully got away the first time), she is back to repeat history all over again. Will Proud be different this time or will he end up as he did the last time is the question. The ending was rather unexpected to me.

Apparently at that time when the movie was released the reviewers and critics were harsh on the movie and its plot. Maybe it had something to do with the reincarnation angle which had not caught on to the science driven America of those days. However these days it may have more acceptability with all these Oriental ideas of karma and rebirth and all that penetrating deep into the American psyche. In those terms perhaps this movie was a path breaker but even as a thriller of a slightly different genre, it worked for me. Fast paced with enough intrigue and action, its worth a watch.

Song of the day - Jeevan Ke Har Mod Pe

2012-02-14T21:03:00.001-08:00

Peppy and happy, this song is quintessentially Rishi-Neetu in those happy 70s movies. Just before the song begins, one sees a brash and almost arrogant Rishi Kapoor grab the mike from Om Shivpuri's hand and start off by singing those lines Om Shivpuri was quoting. A sign of those times. Never fails to pep you up though the video is slightly dated and not very creative.

After many years I heard this song at Amit's house a week or two ago. It was played on Ajanta's request and replayed on my request again. I have not lost it since then. In the mood for some peppy 70s music, click the link. Happy viewing and may the song remain all through the day.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tg-_UtuqtYI&feature=fvst

The Paradoxes of Life - The Love Paradox

2012-02-14T01:38:00.000-08:00

This is a Valentine's Day Special. If we want love from others, we must love ourselves.

Of all the paradoxes this one is one that is difficult to understand and live. We try to buy love, try to mould ourselves to get love, we do everything but be ourselves to get others to love us. It does not work and we know it but we keep twisting ourselves more and more, demeaning ourselves, as we seek and beg for love from others. It diminishes further. People do seem to detest it if they realise that their love is being bought.

The only way is to love ourselves. Take the time to do what we want, eat what we love, listen to what you love, watch what you love, do what you love, be alone with ourselves and enjoy the feeling, say 'No' to the demands of the world and just give yourself the peace, the love you so want to give. In that peace, in that love for yourself, you will find the security to open yourself to the love that is coming your way from the world. Everyone wants to love the person who loves himself or herself.

Funnily again, we get all the love in the world when we don't really need it. We have the pleasure of our own love. But some more pleasure is always welcome. In fact, loving yourself they say, is the final barrier to cross for everlasting happiness and contentment.

The Paradoxes of Life - The Blame Paradox

2012-02-13T23:12:00.000-08:00

The ones you blame are the ones you are leaning on.

The ones whom we blame are the ones we are using as crutches. They are the ones we are using as excuses for not doing or not being what we could do or be. They are the ones you have given away your power to, so you can play the victim. If you take your power back, stop blaming them, you will have to do and be, what will be for your greatest good.

This power has been given to them by you. Not because they asked for it. But because they are the most convenient for you to blame. They are not to blame. They are doing you a favour.

Taking it back is as easy. Just stop blaming them and do and be what you want to be. Contrary to what you think, they will be glad to be rid of your unwanted responsibility.

When there is no one to blame, you grow to your fullest potential.

V for Vendetta - Movie Review

2012-02-12T21:34:00.000-08:00

Highly recommended to me by several friends of mine 'V for Vendetta' did not disappoint. Based on a comic book of the 1980s, the movie is set in 2030 or thereabouts where Britain is run by an authoritarian regime led by a ruthless 'Chancellor' who has taken over power by deceit. (America, everybody's big brother, is already in trouble thanks to a bio-terror attack and troubles with Midwestern countries.) Britain's new government run by the Chancellor, who has seized power by putting the same fear of bio-terror attacks in Britain unless some levels of purging happens instantly, runs concentration camps and eliminates all those who do not fall in its definition of purity based on race, sexuality, religion and almost all the things that Hitler's regime was known for and more. The media is also controlled by one channel, state owned.

The movie begins with a girl (Natalie Portman) who works in the state run television being assaulted on a sidewalk by the government's fingermen. She is saved by a mysterious man in a Guy Fawkes mask who shows extraordinary fighting skill with knives and wards off the fingermen. Speaking eloquently and politely from behind the grinning mask he then takes the girl to a rooftop to watch the blowing up of an tall structure accompanied to music in the streets. The government covers it up as a planned demolition but they know a revolution is on. That evening the man in the mask, V, takes over the television station and gives his address, and urges the people to accompany him on the demolition of the Parliament on the 5th of November, a year from then, to protest against the atrocities of the government, on Guy Fawkes Day. While escaping from the television station where he creates a lot of confusion with replicas of his Guy Fawkes masks, he is helped by the girl, who is now under police suspicion. V takes the unconscious girl home and tells her about his plans. She identifies with him and his cause but when she realises he is killing government officials including the bishop, she escapes and goes to her friend, a comedian on the television channel.

The comedian is killed by the party that very night for a spoof he makes on the Chancellor and the girl witnesses the murder. She is also captured and tortured and asked to give the whereabouts of V which she refuses to do. She somehow gets to see little messages from a neighbour in the prison cell which describe of the horrors of the Chancellor's party. How the young girl next door was captured because she was a lesbian and had a Koran with her, how all these 'social deviants' were sent to a facility where a vaccine for the deadly bio-terror which the Chancellor has already used to create fear among the people by using it in a school, a tube station and a water facility which kills several people, was being developed. All the social deviants die a horrible death except one, who emerges stronger from it, disfigured and maimed, but with nothing affecting him. He is V, the man who is on a mission of revenge against the state. V has killed almost everyone who has been on that program where humans were used to develop the vaccine and killed or disfigured. The vaccine is sold by pharma companies that make money for the Chancellor.

The girl now understands the plot behind V's emergence. She also realises that she has not been abducted by the government but by V, who wanted to test her against fear. When she shows no fear of death he lets her go. V falls in love with her, gives her the choice of sending the explosives to the Parliament in a secret underground tunnel, sends out millions of Guy Fawkes for all the protestors and kills off both the Chancellor and his Minister before suffering fatal injuries. Not before saying a great line - 'I am an idea and ideas are bullet-proof'. The girl decides to blow up the Parliament and is actually helped by the Police Chief who is also against the totalitarian regime while thousands of protestors wearing Guy Fawkes masks throng the square braving a headless military.

'V for Vendetta' is highly engaging and gripping. The grinning Guy Fawkes mask (also looks a bit like the Count of Monte Christo, a film that V watches often), rebellion, the cause for it could have been anytime and anywhere - a call for protest against state oppression and deceit against people. By using the faceless V and the girl's final statement that V is all of us, it delivers a strong message. You are responsible for your freedom, for your safety and cannot leave it all for a few people to take control of your destiny. Highly recommended viewing fir its unique.style of telling the story

The Paradoxes of Life - The Freedom Paradox

2012-02-11T10:41:00.000-08:00

We are completely free only when we take full responsibility for our freedom.

To crave to be free, to be truly free, is one of our greatest fantasies. To be free to do what we want, how we want, when we want, with no one to question, to go where we want and so on and so forth. We always feel that somewhere, someone is holding the reins, restricting our freedom. If they let us go free - our parents, spouses, bosses, children, relatives, employees etc - we'd be truly free and happy. We'd feel totally free (i.e. irresponsible) or rather we'd do what we want without being answerable to any one.

The paradox is that there is no freedom if we take no responsibility for it. The less responsibility we take the less freedom we assume. Everyone else has more power over us then including our going out of the home, time we get up, what we eat etc. We need ask no permission for our freedom, at least most of us. Without responsibility there is no freedom.

The more freedom we take for ourselves, the freer we are. To be irresponsible then (read free) we have to assume complete responsibility.

The Rocks of Hyderabad

2012-02-11T05:43:00.000-08:00

One thing all old timers in Hyderabad miss and reminisce fondly about is the rocks of Hyderabad. These were unique formations of rocks perched precariously, one on top of another, or blending into the crevices of one another, large boulders looking well-settled on a bunch of small rocks, almost always looking as if some giant hand had placed them in such a manner to amuse itself. All explanations defied this including the law of gravity - what is that large boulder doing up there on those small ones?

No one answered this question better than the erudite Thakur, our senior at Osmania College of Commerce and Business Management who needed hardly one good look at the small stones and the large stones on the Osmania campus. 'So the small stones don't fly away,' he said and to this day we have not found a better answer to the big rocks that threatened our lives if they rolled a bit. But they hadn't for centuries so they might not go for a stroll now.

Hyderabad was full of such rock formations. Intriguing, lovely to watch, a sense of adventure around them (we could imagine the Rampur of Gabbar's land in Sholay). Jubilee Hills, Banjara Hills, the secret lake at Madhapur, almost on all outskirts of Hyderabad we could find these lovely and rather unique formations of rocks placed in such fine designs by some giants who lived here probably in some eras gone by.

Of course now we have to go out of the city to see these rocks. At the Hayathnagar Hanuman temple today we saw some vestiges of these rock formations which brought some fine memories to the veterans. All the rocks in the city have been pounded to pulp by dynamite and thrown all over the place as we molested all nature around us to make way for the real estate boom, for progress. There was a society called 'Save the Rocks Society' but I suspect they did not have much success.

The Koni Adventures - Hanuman Temple at Hayathnagar

2012-02-11T05:30:00.000-08:00

Not too many would have discovered this fine little temple that is just coming up at Hayathnagar, on the Vijayawada highway, just where the highway touches the ring road. The irrepressible Koni in his many travels finds such wonderful locations and when he thinks they are worth sharing he takes a lot of care to show us all his discoveries. For some time he had been telling me of this new Hanuman temple he had discovered atop a hill and how he dreamt of putting up a large Hanuman idol on the ringroad side of the hill and make it a landmark.

Way up to temple

The day of reckoning was today and we all piled into his car. Me first, Ranjan next and Vardha last. We had to drive all across the city, through a surprisingly thick traffic on a Saturday morning and finally reached the outskirts. The temple has some directions to it already even though its very small. The entire area as we approach the ring road looks as if we have entered some foreign country with wide, well laid out roads, flyovers and such. The little hillock had a winding road up to the temple and we drove all the way up.

Atop the hill

A short visit to the temple which was open and completely uninhabited save for a watchman and a few devotees who were cooking their midday meals.

The Hanuman temple

There were lovely panaromic views of the plains for as far as the eye could see.

View including the Sanghi temple in the background

We could see the Sanghi temple to one side, the majestic ring road on both sides and enjoyed the peace and quiet for a while before we headed back out.

The ringroad view

The spot for the proposed statue looked very promising as it overlooked the ringroad for miles.

The retreat

Thanks Koni for the drive and the experience.

The Facebook Fear

2012-02-11T04:37:00.000-08:00

I was always wary of opening my facebook account. In the beginning it used to make me dizzy with all its many requests for friends and people saying some cool stuff in their statuses and walls (I still haven't figured out what's what) and putting up pictures of their cool lives. I had just about figured out what to do to accept friends requests - and there were a myriad other features that were bombarded on me. Games like Farmville where everybody sent me all sorts of requests, likes and dislikes, comments and pictures and videos, everyone's private information and sometimes my own was there without me knowing it. People tagged me here and there, on pictures and slogans I did not subscribe to, and it all stressed me out.

In the second phase I got wary of random people suddenly popping up and saying Hi and starting a conversation with me. There I was, harmlessly accepting a friend or checking out his profile or figuring out if we had any friends in common, and someone I do not remember (I'd need to research my list of friends to find out whee they come from) would start a random conversation. I am old fashioned and go in a gradual way from the Hellos to the Good Byes. I carefully answer and ask questions, do not use abbreviations and do not know how to end conversations I did not want in the first place. It took me a while to develop the hide of a rhino and quietly log off while the other person was still going on about something. Obviously no one cares if you are there or not.

In this third phase I have more serious problems and I am really scared to open my facebook account. There is an amazing amount of crazy stuff that people have got hold of and are sharing with everyone. I have not seen such traumatic pictures, videos and messages and thoughts in any other medium as I have seen here. All disguised as well meaning or intelligent threads of information that we all need to know. Gory shots of accidents, heads split open, blood flowing on the road (Unbelievable accident, share), pictures of people who committed suicide and hanging on trees (please don't do this for love), babies grotesquely deformed due to some dreadful disease (share if you care for the babies), some political statements that are totally outlandish as the one glorifying Godse - could be Hitler or a Bin Laden next, health warnings with pictures, doomsday warnings, factually incorrect information and quotes - the list is endless. This page of horrors frightens me most these days and I really pray and hope that I don't happen to glimpse any of these when I open my facebook page. I do that rarely anyway.

One reason why it bothers me is that even discounting the many unknown 'friends' that I have, there are many known ones who choose to show their dark sides and their ignorance and stupidity on facebook. Not to say that facebook is all bad. I love the rare good message, the joke, the funny video, the popular song, the motivational speech, the original idea, the interesting fact and I share it. But I absolutely detest this nonsense which forms a good part of the page these days and spoils the entire day or week. I have unfriended some rather radical 'friends' quietly and have identified many more. But even to unfriend I have no courage because someone might spring a surprise picture of someone blown to bits in an explosion, a dead mother under a landslide or some such.

I guess it all boils down to my 'friends'. I truly deserve what I get because of my 'friends'. And then I think of the wisdom of the fine quote that says 'who needs enemies when we have facebook friends'.

Anjali - The Agitation Takes a Peaceful Turn

2012-02-10T03:00:00.000-08:00

In a change of tactics by the lone agitator, born on October 2 incidentally, we found that the previous dramatic and traumatic slogans have given way to a more positive demand. The mood is that of compromise and of openness and we are sure that this new mood paves the way for a negotiated settlement which will keep all parties happy.

New post-its with a YES and a picture of the guitar have now appeared.

One post it also has a smiling face and heart shaped signs of love. The new post-its are pasted over the previous messages, dark and sad as a symbol that the previous messages can now be forgotten and future negotiations carried out in this new atmosphere.

It appears that this war has been won over by love.

Anjali - The Guitar Agitation Intensifies

2012-02-10T01:53:00.000-08:00

It has been found that the agitation for a guitar has now moved to more public areas. The establishment suddenly found that the front door has the now famous slogan of a guitar and a big 'NO' written on the main entrance.

Inside door

In another rather shocking incident the establishment found that the slogan with a picture of a dejected face is now appearing on the window pane of the main sitting room. The main protestor and prime suspect is however being tight lipped about the whole affair, letting the slogans do all the talking and piling up pressure on the establishment through these increasingly loud messages while doing her own thing such as watching television and playing. This second picture seems to carry her signature.

The window

The establishment which has sought time to fulfill the demands has as usual adopted a wait and watch strategy to find out how much the agitation will intensify and what shape it will take before the next steps can be taken.

The main entrance

It must be mentioned that the lone agitator has also found some outside support on the net.

Freedom at Midnight - Dominique Lapierre and Larry Collins

2012-02-09T10:17:00.000-08:00

I never learnt so much about India in the pre and post Independence era as I did from this book as on date. Superbly researched and well told 'Freedom at Midnight' tells the tale of India's wildly fluctuating fortunes from the moment Lord Mountbatten came to India as its last Viceroy, with express orders to formulate the exit plan for the Raj's withdrawal from India. Coming sometime in January 1947, the charming and efficient Mountbatten would resolve what appeared to be a simmering crisis within India in just about eight months, including the partition of India and the transfer of power to two governments in India and Pakistan. The story reads like a thriller, with its unimaginable scale of human drama, political intrigue, human will, misery, greatness and evil. Truly, no fiction can ever come close to being as dramatic and as complex as real life.

The main players are Lord Mountbatten, Gandhi, Jinnah, Nehru and Patel, the Maharajas and the common people of India. Gandhi is clear he does not want a divided India. He has already humbled the Raj in its mind with his fantastic path of civil disobedience and non-violence, his obdurate rejection of the British law, his means of fasting to death to get what he wants. Chasing an almost Utopian dream with the highest of ideals that he followed rigorously, and expected everyone else to follow as well, Gandhiji comes across as an incredible figure of human grace, saintliness and political cunning. He also shows amazing clarity of thought and understanding of what India needs and is all about. Jinnah is a sophisticated, alcohol drinking, non practising Muslim and the champion of the Moslem League, who with his intransigent ways gets what he always wanted, the separate state of Pakistan. Whatever happened, Jinnah could not be denied, even at the cost of Gandhi famously saying that India will be divided across his dead body. Nehru with his romantic idealism and socialist ideas and Patel with his hard ways and realistic approach to the ground realities completed the cast of the main players. Mountbatten dealt with all these leaders, their fears and desires, with the 545 princely states and their eccentric rulers and carved out the India we have today. One cannot even understand the scale of the job he had done.

That Jinnah was diagnosed with tuberculosis and did not have too long to live was a fact that no one knew until well after the formation of Pakistan. This well kept secret is what got Jinnah his Pakistan. The Radcliffe line dividing India and Pakistan was drawn by Cyril Radcliffe, a person who knew nothing of India, a line that caused lakhs of refugees to die in the madness of the partition. This line and its boundaries were not revealed until after the Independence was granted to both nations. That Gandhi was in Calcutta on the day India got independence trying to stop Hindu Muslim riots from flaring up with a crazy fast he undertook with a Muslim leader in a communally sensitive area. He was to be proven far more effective than the 55000 strong force meant to guard the Punjab border which saw the worst of crimes committed, train loads of bodies, murders, rapes, pillage as innocent Hindus and Sikhs fled from Pakistan to India and Muslims fled from India to Pakistan leaving everything they had. The sheer ferocity of the attacks on innocents by Muslim goons and Sikh and Hindu counterparts is unimaginable. Canals full of blood and bodies, people killing their families to save them from rape and murder, forced conversions. And to think that both Nehru and Jinnah naively believed that the partition would be peaceful by and large. It was only Gandhi who predicted the large scale violence that could happen if the country was torn apart.

The stubborn Nizam of Hyderabad, and the King of Kashmir and how these two large states were finally integrated into India is another story just as the quirks of the many Maharajahs make for interesting reading. The plot to kill Gandhi, the failed first attempt on January 20, 1948, and the successful second attempt exactly ten days later, the unimaginable inefficiency of the police to catch the accomplices of Madanlal Pahwa who was caught at the site after the first attempt blowing up a grenade, the resolve of the Hindu fundamentalists Nathuram Godse, Narayan Apte, Gopal Godse, Badge, Pahwa to eliminate Gandhi for the crimes he committed on India - for living even after the partition and for going on a fast to have the Indian government hand over the 550 million it was bound to but which it did not, are stuff that makes up this real life drama.

But towering amongst all this madness is the little man from Gujarat, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, who with his amazing clarity and commitment to his principles brought not just the Raj to its knees but almost the entire mad population of India which seemed keen on killing one another if it was the last thing they did, first in Calcutta and then in Delhi. To use the paradox always, fighting a war with non-violence, to quieten the anger of people who lost everything by offering to kill himself by fasting, to offer the throne to the Moslem even if India remained undivided, to tell the victims to allow themselves to be sacrificed and die and thus remain the victors, Gandhi had the morals, the wisdom, the vision that far exceeds anyone. His deeds speak of his convictions and read like fantastic fairy tales - how his love conquered everything. Almost. His story is one that none can forget - of the lawyer who could not speak to save his life in England and almost died of shyness, the one who discovered his voice in South Africa when he raised it to fight racial discrimination.

Gandhi's death and the scenes thereon are described in graphic detail and its wonderful to read this touching and moving account by the two foreign writers. The many stories they chose to tell of common people, Boota Singh and Zenab, Ram Lal, the many British officers, the Maharajahs are fascinating to read. How this mad bunch of fragmented states and peoples came together and formed a nation is amazing. It is also amazing to see the clarity of the writers when they say how India would have been better off if it followed the path of Gandhi and his principles and not followed the route of industrialisation and technology. Gandhi wanted power in the rual areas and that is where it should have been. His work on the Untouchables, the marginalised, women upliftment, secularism or rather humanitarism is wonderful. His many quirks, mud packs, enemas, his sexual abstinence, his habit of not speaking on Mondays to save his vocal chords and writing on small scraps of paper made from the envelopes he received, his writing with pencil stubs, his spinning of the wheel as a form of earning his food, his use of the fasts, his almost 3000 days spent in jail in his life, his penchant to be punctual, his monk like existence are wonderful to read. Similarly the work done by the Mountbattens, Louis as the Viceroy and Edwina, in the refugee camps and with the Red Cross, is wonderful. The work of the V.P.Menon and others is also no less in securing Kashmir by getting Raja Hari Singh to sign his consent to accession by India and several other crises is laudable.

It humbles one to know of the legacy we have inherited, the sacrifices of the many that went into forming this nation we call India. The tireless sacrifice, of their own lives, their families, the freedom of the many leaders, common people. The erudition, the commitment and courage of the leaders is one that makes one wonder. Where are men like this? When will India find leaders of such stature again? It is incredible to know that India was given its freedom on the stroke of midnight of the August 15 and not on the 15th itself because astrologers foretold that if India was to be given independence on the 15th, the stars forecast ruin for India.

I am glad once again that I read another classic, this one much closer to my heart as it is about India, at this stage of my life when I can appreciate the history from where we have come. It is now time to examine how we use this freedom we have been gifted by our fathers and take India to the next level. For all Indians, 'Freedom at Midnight' is a must read to know some many facts about how we achieved what had seemed an impossible dream - our freedom, our becoming one.

The Ghost Writer - Movie Review

2012-02-09T09:16:00.000-08:00

The 2010 Roman Polanski movie, based on a novel, is about a young ghost writer (Ewan MacGregor) who is offered the job of writing the unfinished memoirs of former Prime Minister of Britain Alan Lang (Pierce Brosnan). A lucrative assignment, it is required to be done quickly while the former PM is on tour in the USA. The ghost writer soon finds out that the first draft of the memoirs is already written by the previous ghost writer McAra who incidentally was found washed up on the shore in the same place where he goes to meet the former Prime Minister. On that island in a secluded and heavily guarded place live the former PM, his wife and his secretary who also seems to double as his romantic interest much to the wife's anger. The day after he reports on the island, the PM's ex-foreign secretary leaks some vital information that makes the former PM a war criminal on the run.

Anyway the key is that the ghost writer needs to find out why his predecessor washed up on the shore dead in this intriguing set up. He finds pictures and information that link the Prime Minister to a former CIA agent, a certain Professor Emmett in McAra's room. Driving the same car as McAra, the new ghost locates the house of Emmett and meets him. Lang and Emmett had met in Cambridge. Meanwhile the new ghost also finds that the dead McAra was in touch with the foreign minister who has put Lang in a spot. Not knowing who to trust with the infromation that McAra was murdered, he first confides with the PM's wife with whom he gets intimate one evening, then the foreign minister over the phone and the to Lang himself. Lang is shot dead by a war veteran whose son was killed in the Iraq war. Anyway McAra has left enough clues about the real CIA agent (one suspects Lang of being that) in the beginnings of the memoirs he has written. The ghost finds out and once again reveals his hand. This time he does not survive.

Complicated? Not really. Sloppy? Yes. It's supposed to be loosely based on Tony Blair and his proximity to the USA. The foreign minister actually looks like Robin Cook the British Minister. The movie is a thriller no doubt as we try to find out why someone is killed and what is happening. It keeps you glued till the end and is very taut and tight. For a totally gripping tale well told, of intrigue, murder and thrill, full marks to Roman Polanski. But I was not too convinced about the naivete of the young ghost writer who behaves like a school kid. To go around spilling information which is certainly dangerous to the main players in the plot is to invite his own death and I am surprised how he lasted till the end of the movie. He confesses his doubts and discoveries to the PM's wife, the PM and the PM's arch foe the foreign minister - any of whom could have killed the previous ghost writer. The ending about the 'beginnings' was also rather amateurish I felt and would have liked something more sophisticated and complex. I'd have thought that McAra would have left clues that would not have been so distant and chancy, that would have got the real killer's identity out. The reason for the death of Lang is not convincing (was it by chance?), why the foreign minister wants to see the manuscript when he is in touch with the previous ghost writer himself who could have told him the truth, the way the new ghost bumbles around with his information, why the super efficient killers leave McAra's room unchecked for information, why the PM's super efficient secretary is so clueless are all loose ends to me. A bit sloppy in retrospect. But for a movie experience of a fast paced thriller with intrigue and some whodunnit moments, its a definite watch. Fine performances by Ewan McGregor and Pierce Brosnan and the others.

Thought for the Day - Make More Mistakes

2012-02-08T21:47:00.000-08:00

It is funny but there is a huge amount of fear involved in making mistakes. And this is the fear that must be first knocked out in schools itself. Let them make mistakes and do not ridicule and humiliate them for their mistakes. I can see Anjali worrying and agonising about her mistakes and hiding them or crying about them - and she is four years old. Somewhere in all of us, young and old, this myth has crept in that we all need to be perfect and that we may not be liked if we make mistakes. So we cover them up, we hide them and we worry about them constantly, that we may be found out, despite knowing that every single person in this world has made mistakes, every single one of them.

Funnily again, we all know that making mistakes is the only way to learn. It is the only route to success. Yet we all behave as if we were born with some secret formula where everything has to be right and that we are incapable of any wrong. How foolish is this idea that we cannot make a mistake ever. And how foolish to try and cover it up. It is a clear indicator that we will never grow.

The idea that we can make mistakes and that we can fail is what we must learn to accept first. This is the only way of original thought. This is the starting point to the route to excellence. This is how we can unlock our potential. If we can look at ourselves and give ourselves the freedom to make mistakes and to fail, we'll be in a much better place. We grow with each mistake if we look at it with the right attitude - the attitude of growth.

There could be a cry against this thought. "Then people will be more careless if we encourage mistakes!" I seriously doubt that. People have an inherent desire to better themselves if we give them the space. If we do not pounce on their mistakes and humiliate them, they will find the space to improve, to correct and to produce original work. It is this space that is required, of tolerance and understanding, not just among children but in society as well. A well memorised and correct answer is not half as good as a creative and wrong answer. It is for us to wonder at why the mistake has been committed, the thought process behind the wrong, which could lead to some very original thinking. To real progress.

Clearly the more mistakes we make the greater are our chances of growing. A mistake a day would indicate that one is trying out something new at least. In schools and colleges and in families and societies there seems to be a stupid notion about failures and mistakes that must be knocked out immediately. I'd encourage mistakes as much or even more than a correct answer (remember that wonderful scene in the movie 'Stanley ka dabba' where the science teacher admonishes Stanley's creative science project). There is no question of succeeding in life if we are afraid to make mistakes, to own up our mistakes and our ignorance. Whatever the age, whatever the circumstance in life we must be ready to accept our limitations. And if our schools and colleges, our families and societies, give permission to their young and old to make mistakes and learn from them, we'd all be in a better place.

Today I feel that if there is one thing I'd like to tell Anjali, it is to try more new things, make more mistakes and never let that stop her from trying something new ever. That there is really no such thing as a mistake. It is always a process of trying out something new.

Anjali - The First Organised Protest

2012-02-08T05:40:00.000-08:00

For the first time in her four years and a few months, Anjali decided to use an organised form of protest. Miffed with the establishment that did not concede her demand of buying a toy guitar (and instead bought her a downscale baby toy), she used her new found learning to protest.

She recently learnt to write the words 'No' and 'Yes'. So she instantly drew a guitar and a large 'NO' on a Post It and stuck it on my desk. It glowers at the management everyday from the desktop, reminding me of the demands of the four year old, the silent protest of the deprived. Thankfully her protest, her non-violent agitation is now limited to the small poster and some sad faces she makes at the management now and then. We have to wait and watch the next move to see who gives in first.

Anjali - And Now Potatoes

2012-02-08T05:32:00.000-08:00

Tomatoes were easy to spot because we could see them grow. Brinjals never delivered - the plants look healthy but not a sign of brinjals - big or small. Potatoes showed great speed in growing but nothing much after that. After seeing the healthy growth over the ground we, Anjali and I, waited for some sign of potatoes somewhere and found none. Finally we dug around a bit and found some tiny potatoes which are as good as any for us.

I haven't dug deeper and suspect that I might found some regular size potatoes there but our first potatoes, even if they are miniature ones, are really special.

Richard Marx - Right Here Waiting For You

2012-02-07T18:55:00.000-08:00

In those days of senseless romanticism, the early 90s when we were still in college, came along this song from American singer Richard Marx and blew us all away. We heard this song endlessly on our tapes. It had a soft, almost Indian kind of a feel to the lyrics in its magnificent promises, great vows, supreme sacrifices of waiting for the girl wherever she goes, whatever she does and we all promised the same to the girls we knew. And they had no reason to not believe us - nor did we mean anything else but our undying love! It still evokes those same memories of course. One of the best ballads I have heard.

A link to the song on youtube.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_E2EHVxNAE

And youtube helpfully brings back more memories lined up by the side.
Take My Breath Away (the Top Gun theme), Nothings Gonna Change My Love For You, Hard to Say I'm Sorry (Chicago), Power of Love (Jennifer Rush), Broken Wings (Mister Mister), Never (Heart), Everytime You Go Away (Paul Young) and so many more.

The Hyderabad Diaries

2012-02-06T20:33:00.000-08:00

These days I see a number of masked policemen, the traffic variety, standing at busy cross roads. Most have a walkie talkie in one hand and a cell phone in the other and are generally busy with both. One such who never fails to amuse me is the tall and rather reluctant traffic cop who mans the newly crowded cross roads at JJ Hospital, Madhura Nagar. Every single act and posture indicates that this cop was never meant to be a traffic cop. He stands with utmost reluctance, hides in all the corners that the road offers, masks himself well so no one can see his face and is constantly cootchie-cooing into his cell phone, perhaps to his masked girlfriend somewhere. Rarely does he let the mad traffic affect him. His mask prevents me from identifying him in an id parade and the only thing I have to pin him down is his reluctant posture.

In past times all cartoons of robbers and dacoits had them wearing masks and striped t shirts and lungis. Now the cops wear masks. I see many of them coolly avoiding the over crowded autos as they zip by under their nose and even if I got a picture of them ignoring the lawbreakers, one would never be able to identify them. Today I saw a news item that said that some cops issued stickers to identify trucks that paid 'sticker' money so they could travel unhindered in the city during prohibited times. Perhaps the cops also have stickers to identify them behind the masks.

Talking of masks I see many young people going around with masks. Almost all girls walk around with masks on their pretty faces making it to appreciate their beauty. I see boys going around with masks on their faces too, most likely to hide their faces. Since they all dress in a unisex dress code we'd never know who is what under the mask. It will all turn out into a scene like he burqua scene in Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron where no one knows who is the real one and who the fake one is.

Sometimes I see the boys and girls, masked, entwined on bikes and I think that it is very convenient because they seem to use the masks provide some anonymity for their amorous adventures. But what if they land up with the wrong masked person and head off for a date? But then perhaps it is the journey that matters and not the one who appears under the mask. And why does one need to take off the mask? Maybe we'll all slide into a phase where, just as we have fake ids on the net, we can go around with masks that hide our real identities and get into and out of relationships. What's in a face anyway? All we need to do is go about with our facebook page printed on our fronts and the opposite sex can like us and we can get into a masked relationship with a profile pic of some film star.

A Letter to Yuvraj Singh

2012-02-06T07:43:00.000-08:00

Dear Yuvraj,
The news of the cancer must have come as a shock to you and why not. The first question would perhaps have been - why me, why now? What have I done wrong? The fear must have kicked in - am I going to die? Life must seem so unfair to you that at the peak of your career, the prime of your youth and life, you are faced with such terrible news. You must think surely why you have been picked to fight all the battles, injuries, selection, life itself. But most times, it does appear that God gives the battles to those who can handle them, so you could perhaps look at it like that.

To begin with accept the condition. Illnesses always have a way of teaching you something. As they say - they prepare you for something bigger in your life, they are part of your training for life. They assume some bigger purpose so accept it. And if you can, be grateful for it that it is trying to teach you something. Your acceptance will tell you what it is trying to teach you and the sooner you learn what it is trying to say, the better.

As Lance Armstrong did, so will you have to take responsibility for your health by understanding it deeply, taking decisions, backing your instincts, not buying into doomsday theories but not relying entirely on superficial information. You must look at the exact picture, take your decisions based on hard facts. It may look like a maze but that is what Lance did - he unraveled it all bit by bit until he knew exactly what it was all about - and so can you. Your instinct has always been good and it will not fail you. Take complete responsibility for your health.

Start surrounding yourself with people, music and stuff that is positive, that makes you feel like you are going to get well and get out soon. Stuff that makes you feel that life is much bigger than the illness and you can comeback and do with your life what you were meant to. It must give you the perspective that puts your entire life, your illness and the future in the right perspective.

Be gentle with yourself, with your body and give it as much rest, love and affection as you can. It has made you what you are, supported you when you needed it and now it needs your support. Give it all the support you can from your side first - doctors, medicines, nursing care etc - they all come later. It looks to you like a child does to a parent and you must be there for it and not reject it.

As I type I can see your career unfold before my eyes. From the Under 19 team with Kaif that won the World Cup, your debut match against Australia where you had the Aussies hopping with red hot fielding and batting in the Champions Trophy, the famous Natwest final, the many other wonderful victories and highs, the six sixes in an over, the fantastic World Cup performance in 2011 - you have always made an impact everytime you went on the field for India. But despite that impact you found yourself being dropped from the Test games, the injuries, the one dayers and yet you came back. Not many would have had the resilience to do that but you did and you did it in style.

Now at a stage when you would have been playing cricket with your mates, enjoying life, getting married and so on, you have been chosen to live differently. It is but an opportunity and one that you can seize with both hands. Your choices will help and inspire many and perhaps your future performances may equal or outshine what Lance Armstrong did after his comeback.

Lance Armstrong writes - "if I had to choose between the Tour d France or cancer, I would choose cancer". In the paradoxes of life, this is one of the biggest, that what you consider your biggest challenge, your greatest enemy could be your biggest friend. In dealing with cancer and recovering his health, Armstrong discovered a far greater strength, a purpose to his life. That in itself, adds immense conviction to one, when one takes up a challenge like the Tour de France. No wonder he also says - "the Tour is about life itself".

Like a wise old man said to me once 'Keep the attitude of let's see, and the world will open up many doors and windows where you found none'. Just hold yourself, your belief, and keep your eyes open and be aware. 'Let's see what tomorrow brings'.

Wishing you a speedy recovery and a wonderful life ahead.
Love

Of Gratitude and Hand Made Greeting Cards

2012-02-05T09:56:00.000-08:00

There was a time when people would make hand made greeting cards to express their love and affection, their gratitude. I did too when I was young - draw some line sketches of cars and pass them off as greeting cards. Or even a flower. It was a gesture that needed a lot of effort, a clear thought and a high amount of love. To me frankly the best looking greeting card, the bouquet of flowers, expensive gifts can never compare to a single hand made card. A hand made card is a bit of that person really, a genuinely felt thought. And when it is made with care and love that shows in its making, it is all the more special.

So when I received a lovely hand made card from the Class X students of the Sloka school for a small freewheeling talk we had there, thanking me for that small one hour interaction, I was bowled over. Firstly, in these times I find gratitude itself is a dying form. We are not thankful for anything and are always wondering why we are not getting anything more. How will anyone give us anything when we are not thankful for what we have got already? To see this fine expression of gratitude from young boys and girls makes the heart warm up. Its a wonderful gesture and thank you so much all of you.

The talk was fun and I forgot all about it. So it was wonderful to see both Shankar and Lakshmi Chelluri take the trouble of bringing the card over to me at home along with a bouquet of flowers. I realise that no one need to do all that. In fact I am surprised that they took all that trouble. For making me so aware that gratitude is still alive and well and the art of making hand made greeting cards as well, thank you all once again. It will take you a long way, to keep this spirit of gratitude, this honest expression with you. Thanks again all you students of Class X, Sloka School, Hyderabad and here's wishing you all a great ride being exactly what you were made to be.

Rabbit-Proof Fence - Movie Review

2012-02-04T11:52:00.000-08:00

This is a 2002 movie set in Australia in the 1930s based on a book 'Follow the Rabbit-Proof Fence' by Doris Pilkington Garimara. Its the story of how three Aborigine girls Molly (14), Tracie (10) and Daisy (8), walk 1500 miles over nine weeks to go back home from the reform home they have been sent to. It is based on a true story. Koni recommended it to me strongly many times before, recalling the days he spent in Australia as a student, and I am glad I finally got to see it. Thanks Koni.

All the Aborigines in Australia in the 1930s were apparently under the care of their 'protector', one Mr. Neville, a white man, in Australia. The 'Protector' Mr. Neville has certain ideas about half-castes, children born out of one white parent and one aboriginal parent, and he feels that he has a duty to protect the aborigines from themselves. His idea is that half caste children must be bred out of existence and to serve this end, he has the powers to identify all half-caste children, forcibly take them away from their families and sent to a re-education school where they are trained to become slaves to the English masters. All this was true, and probably continued until the 1970s.

Molly, Daisy and their cousin Tracie, half caste children, are taken away forcibly from their mothers and grandmother in their village Jigalong. It is a heart rending scene to see the children being taken away from their parents and knowing perhaps that they may never see one another again. They are sent to the camp at Moore River where they are taught English, taught to pray and educated to become slaves and servants. But after a few days the girls, led by Molly decide to escape and walk the distance of 2400 kms back to their home. They run away, and are tracked by an expert aboriginal tracker, Moodoo. Mr. Neville raises alarm and has the police as well after the three girls.

The three girls find some unlikely help from strangers along the way and come across the rabbit-proof fence that runs across Western Australia to keep rabbits from the crops. They know their home Jigalong is to the North of the rabbit proof fence and if they follow it, they would be home. Escaping the tracker, the police, finding food, carrying the younger one when necessary, the girls make most of the distance before Tracie is tricked into splitting from the others as one of the strangers they meet tells her that her mother is in Wiluna, a place she could reach by train. Tracie is captured at the railway station and once again it kills you to see the young 10 year old being separated from her cousins. Tracie never makes it to Jigalong and probably ends up as a servant somewhere. The other two girls survive the desert and reach their mother at Jigalong after walking along the rabbit-proof fence for nine weeks. The two children, their mother and grandmother escape into the wild. The movie ends with recent and real life footage of Molly and Daisy in their old age.

The book 'Following the Rabbit-Proof Fence' is written by Molly's daughter. Apparently Molly and her two children were captured once again later on by the protector and his forces and sent back to Moore Camp. Molly escaped once again with her three year old Annabelle and followed the rabbit-proof fence back home. However Annabelle was taken from her once again and she never saw her again. The closing shots of Molly and Daisy show the two survivors walking the wilderness.

'Rabbit-Proof Fence' reminds you of how the powerful always use their power and force to make up perverted and cruel laws in the name of protecting the poor and the defenceless. There is no doubt that any man who is entrusted the power of being the 'protector' of all aborigines in Australia, would come up with schemes such as the ones Neville does for the half castes. You can't blame him - its the absolute power that they assume that makes them think like the devil. The poor families, aboriginal mothers, suffer twice. Once at being raped in most cases by the white men and then at having their kids being taken away as they are half castes. The cruelty of the state in its assumptions that it knows best how to make its society - making of slaves and servants for themselves by separating the children forcibly from their parents is never more starkly shown than in this movie. Poor, starving, uneducated they may be - but the children deserve to be with their parents, who are all the world they know. The look in the eyes of the children when they are stolen from their parents haunts you forever.

The Aborigines of Australia who suffered this fate were named the 'Stolen Generations'. I suspect no apology would have been made to them. In fact I am sure that many would feel that they had done all this to protect the Aborigines, to uplift them, from themselves. Imagine if the same thing were done to a white family by the Aborigines.

The girl who played Molly, Everlyn Sampi, completely killed me with her strong performance. Her eyes, her body language, she is fantastic all through and you never ever doubt that she would be outwitted or cowed down, even by the great desert. I fell in love with her completely (she got the best actress award for this role). The girl who played Daisy was really cute and so was Tracie, all the kids were absolutely fantastic. Tightly made, with no extra melodrama, 'Rabbit-Proof Fence' shows us the great outdoors of Australia beautifully in stunning visuals and also the ugly underbelly of our societies and the way the poor are always taken advantage of, oppressed and suppressed by the state and its own ill-conceived, convoluted and self-serving laws. I could not help but think of the recent Norway affair when the state took away the children of parents of Indian origin so they could get better care. A wonderful movie and one that must be watched. It sucks you in and never lets you go until the end.

Zelig - Movie Review

2012-02-03T10:38:00.000-08:00

Woody Allen's movies always make me wonder why I had not thought of those ideas before. Almost always. And I wish to get ideas as crazy and yet so true about our lives as he does, I'd consider myself fortunate. Zelig, a mocumentary made by Woody Allen in 1983, is one such idea.

The entire movie is shown as a documentary based on the life of one Leonard Zelig (Allen) who lived in New York in the 1920s. This man's greatest claim to fame is that he changes his features to look like any group that he joins - he physically changes color, features, shapes - and earns himself the sobriquet the 'Human Chameleon'. Why he does that is found out later by a psychiatrist Dr. Eudora Fletcher (Mia Farrow) who finds that this man's incredible need for approval makes him actually change himself to fit in with the group he is with (including becoming a fat man in a bunch of fat people and a black man in a bunch of black people). The doctor and patient get closer and fall in love and she treats him successfully - only now the human chameleon has very strong opinions about everything else and is highly intolerant of other people's views - a complete opposite of what he was earlier and ends up beating the doctors who come to review his case. Their crime - he does not agree that it is a fine day as one of them thinks. Popular as he becomes with all this going on Zelig is suddenly slapped with cases of bigamy, paternity, fraud etc by several people, acts that he had undertaken in his many roles unknowingly earlier. But just before his sentencing for these crimes, Zelig disappears. Dr. Eudora Fletcher finds him sometime later however, standing behind Adolf Hitler in the WW II footage and goes off to Germany to rescue him. Her presence knocks him back to his senses and they dash off across the Atlantic in a plane. But Eudora who can fly has fainted and Zelig is the only other occupant. Zelig who is now back to his need for approval stage, transforms into a pilot in the presence of the other pilot and flies across the Atlantic in a plane that is upside down. The two get a heroes welcome.

A person with a need for approval so strong that he actually changes himself physically to fit in? What a wonderful idea. And the way Allen shoots the entire movie as a documentary is amazing - the newsreel quality of the 20s, the placement of Allen beside historical figures like Hitler, Al Capone, Babe Ruth, Lindbergh is superb. And to do it in 1983 is even more mindboggling because it was apparently ten years ahead of such technological advances in film making. To conceive, laugh at and pull off such an idea that probably laughs at all of humanity and its need for approval, Woody Allen soars far above and apart from other film makers. Truly there can be none like him. The movie is worth a watch for its sheer novelty, a mocumentary, black and white mostly, interspersed with colour clippings. But if you're looking for straight entertainment, perhaps not the one for you (but this is like a documentary isn't it?).

The Paradoxes of Life - The Surrender Paradox

2012-02-02T19:39:00.000-08:00

Taking complete responsibility of one's life, one's happiness, is possible only when there is complete surrender.

Responsibility is often mistaken for control (and total responsibility is often mistaken for total control). But control by itself indicates an insecurity, a rigidity that cannot allow the others, the external factors, the process and people, to function at its best. Because we want things to happen only in one way we miss out so many better ways in which they can happen.

Total responsibility is about not blaming anyone else. Surrender is about not blaming yourself.

The best results then are obtained only when there is a total surrender. Be fully responsible for your actions and yet, totally surrender to the process, to the changes. Guaranteed happiness.

Music - Kenny G and the Romance of the Saxophone

2012-02-01T20:42:00.000-08:00

For all of us musical philistines the first sound of the saxophone is very seductive. This is the kind of soft, romantic music one hears in the soft hallways of five star hotels, of air conditioned places, the sound that seems to belong to sunsets and beaches and so on. It was truly exotic to hear that sound.

So when I first heard 'Songbird' by Kenny G in the later 80s, it was truly an awesome experience. I had heard this music before, many times, its a popular piece of music and I was so glad that I finally discovered the maker of this wonderful piece of music. I tarted connecting the music, the instrument and the wonderful mood it evoked. I bought myself many Kenny G cassettes and loved listening to all of them but the 'Songbird' remains an all time favorite. In isolation, with dim lights, a drink in hand, leaning back against the wall and letting the music seep in. Or with the kind of company that equally enjoyed the music in isolation. 'Songbird' filled many moments of isolation with peace, romance and love. For that, a huge thanks to Kenny G. A link to the video of the song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xlfnedlb7iU

Why Dhoni Must Remain As Captain

2012-01-31T22:11:00.000-08:00

The ongoing call for sacking Dhoni as captain in Tests is a reaction that we have often seen and heard. Many of our ex-cricketers, fans and so called experts come to the fore the moment the Indian side loses a few Tests and calls for older players to be dropped and radical changes made all over. Some people want the entire system to be changed, some want the captain changed, so want the sponsor changed - some change must be made to appease them. I do not understand these knee jerk reactions from these people.

An Extraordinary Leader
Considering the fact that Dhoni has been the only Indian captain who has won two World Cups, in the T20 and 50 over format, won an amazing number of matches in various formats of the game, taken the team to leading position in all formats of the game, and has proven his calm and composure in winning games for almost all the sides he has played for, there is no doubt that he is an extraordinary talent as a captain, a leader. To lead a side that is packed with several battle scarred seniors, the Tendulkars, Sehwags, Dravids, Laxmans and many more, and bring them all to rise above their own issues and contribute to the team's good calls for great man management skill. It is a rare talent and one that must be nurtured.

Man Manager Par Excellence - Belief in Self and Team
Dhoni may not be technically the most astute captain. He may not be the best strategically, even tactically. His field placements sometimes bewilder everyone. His choice of bowling changes also. But what he has in ample measure is belief that he and his team can pull it off in any situation. This one factor more than makes up for all his other shortcomings. He strides around as if he knows exactly what is going to happen and dares the opponent to go out and get that victory if he so badly wants it. He throws the ball to the Rainas, the Yuvrajs, the Joginder Sharmas and the Jakatis and they all bowl like champions. Half the side gone and some young upstart like a Kohli stands up. The youngsters and the senior players are given the space, the confidence, the responsibility and they all perform. They never appear under pressure. That is his one quality that makes him far superior than any technically better qualified, strategically superior player, because Dhoni can pull it off on the field, in the heat of the moment, while all else can only justify later what went wrong in flowery words.

Others Don't Compare
To me the others don't compare as captaincy material. Tendulkar is too intense and puts immense pressure on his players. It is only recently that he is letting go and letting them be. Sehwag leaves it too much to the players to figure it out for themselves which will never work in a big match like the World Cup final or semi final or a quarter final even when the players look to the captain to hold their belief. Dravid is too caught up in his own game, his own insecurities to rally all the others around him - he believes in doing his job well and anything beyond that adds to the burden on his shoulders. Laxman is also in the Sehwag mould, though in a less abrasive manner I'd suspect, more leaning to the Azhar style of captaincy that at this level everyone should know what they are doing - something I never subscribed to because at every level there are players who need to be told. The only one who comes close to matching Dhoni is the intense, fiercely competitive Kohli, who knows his own mind and more importantly knows what he wants - to win. Yuvraj's captaincy has been exposed in the IPL.

Needs Support
Dhoni is a young man. These players play under tremendous pressure of not just the games but hectic schedules that drain them a lot. They require a lot of support in terms of mentoring. Something that Gary Kirsten did so effectively. If there is a problem with the team it must be shared by the supposedly expert support staff because this is almost the same team that did the country proud just a few months ago,. Two series down and we already want long standing changes including sacking all the seniors, all the rarest talent and replace them. With whom?

Coach and Support Staff to Blame
To me the problem lies not with the players. They have become defensive and that reflects their mindset. Now this is an area that the Coach and the many support staff need to figure out and get it right. Duncan Fletcher is the one to gun for if he is not able to get it right. Player fatigue, fear, confused mindset - it all shows in the players performance. The support staff needs to pull up their socks and get their act right - make the atmosphere conducive for the players to perform at their best. I have not heard a word yet from Duncan Fletcher and I'd like to hear his take.

Don't Kill the Talent, Support It
Dhoni is not the only one in the team. Agreed we have lost two series and in bad fashion but that does not mean we replace and kill whatever talent we have. Captaincy is also a confidence issue. by constantly pulling out the plant and examining its roots we will kill it. Let it grow, let it find its space. See if something can be done to help the team find a better atmosphere. I have not heard a single creative, supportive, value added suggestion by our so-called experts except go back to lamenting the bad system, arrogant players etc. Come on guys back off. Dhoni is still your best bet in all formats for the next three years, until the Kohli's are ready. Give him the support, examine the support system, examine the hectic schedules they play in and let them be. Is there some kind of a counseling or brainstorming session that the captain can go to in his off days and meet some experts at the NCA? Or is this an are no one knows anything about? Can't something be done to ease this tremendous strain from the young man's shoulders?
It's time to nurture and support. To see if there is someway he can find out what he did right and what is going wrong. In any case Dhoni is still too fresh off some amazing wins to be written off so early. I'd trade these two series losses for the World Cup win anyday.

A Nation That Is Happy With the Mediocre

But I'd like to see more constructive stuff coming out from these ex-cricketers who have not achieved an iota of what Dhoni has. As a nation we are always in a hurry to bring down anything that is progressive. We can't seem to wait to stop all progress, call for changes that will make us regress many years. Clearly we are comfortable with the mediocre, with the non-achievers, because they make us comfortable. They do not show us our own mediocrity. So when an icon shows signs of weakness, we are in a hurry to tear them down and beat them down so they never get up.

To me Dhoni is still doing a good job. Fire the Coach for non-performance and get a new one if you have to fore someone.

The Color of Paradise - Movie Review

2012-01-30T09:57:00.000-08:00

Stunning.
This is a movie that has been on my desk for months together now. Sagar had given me this DVD along with a bunch of other Irani films but for some reason I postponed watching it. When I saw it today, I could not but help wondering at the film making ability of the Iranian film makers, Majid Majidi, in particular. To take a simple theme and play it upon your heart strings so well, so deeply - its the work of a master. Never will forget this movie, ever.

'The Color of Paradise' is the story of a blind boy Muhammad who studies in a school for the blind in Teheran. On the vacation break all parents come to take their children except his father who comes late, reluctantly. Muhammad knows his father does not love him and feels that he is a burden to his father. The scene when he runs to his father and says 'I thought you would not come' had me - and I cried. The duo go to their village where his two sisters and granny live on a farm. Muhammad's father Hashem now wants to marry again (his first wife is dead) and starts the proceedings with a girl's family around. Meanwhile Muhammad is having a great time with his sisters and his granny and even goes to their school and impresses everyone with his knowledge and skill with Braille. But Hashem is ashamed of his blind son and thinks it might impede his marriage plans, and one day when the granny is away, takes his son to a blind carpenter and leaves him there. When Hashem returns he finds his mother is leaving him; she dies eventually, worrying more about her weak son and less about her blind grandson. Her death is seen as ominous by the future in laws and they call of the marriage. Hashem brings the boy back but on the way back home the boy and the horse he is sitting on, fall into the river. Hashem waits for a moment, not sure if he wants to rescue the boy who is drowning but finally decides to save his son. But it may have been too late. Never have I prayed more that the last scene would show some sign of life in the lifeless boy's body. And for making a movie like this, Majid Majidi, I salute you.

This movie killed me. I cannot even try to describe the emotions that it took me on in its simple story, in man's quest to find love from those who somehow refuse to give it to them. The blind boy, his father, his granny, his sisters, his teachers - that is about the entire cast. The movie is shot so well that it does appear to be paradise, every shot is so visually arresting that it sinks into you. But the story in itself went deep into my heart and my soul and I felt for the blind boy and his wanting to be with his sisters, his granny, wanting his father's love. It seems so pointless, so sad, to want love, to feel equal. to want to try so hard to be like so many others. Majid Majidi, take a bow. Muhammad and Hashem and this movie will remain forever with me. Truly master class. If I could think of one story like this, in its simplicity, in its human drama, I'd consider it a huge achievement. And if you have not seen this movie don't even think twice, watch it. You've seen nothing if you haven't seen this.

Quantum Theory Cannot Hurt You - Marcus Chown

2012-01-30T05:30:00.000-08:00

Or so I thought when I picked up this book (Quantum Physics Cannot Hurt You, Penguin Books, Marcus Chown, Rs. 450) to read. At 158 pages it did not look like it could harm me really so I plodded on hoping to be able to be better off on subjects such as the Theory of Relativity, Gravity, Quantum Theory, Atoms and so on. But sadly, despite the chatty language Marcus uses, the Quantum Theory whizzed past and I gave up. I do not think I can speak with any authority on it yet which has more to do with my capabilities than Marcus Chown's. Clearly I am not yet ready for Quantum Theory.

What got me to try this book was the cover which looked like a 'Quantum Theory for Dummies' one. But they really must have had some more evolved dummies in mind. The back cover is very interesting though and hooks you. Stuff like 'the entire human race would fit in the volume of a sugar cube' (that's how empty we are), 'we age faster at the top of the building than at the bottom' and 'every breath we take contains an atom breathed out by Marilyn Monroe', does make you want to figure out how and why but save the first, the other two are still gobbledegook for me. It is not very comforting to think that we are breathing in atoms breathed by dead people however attractive they may be.

But I am a better man still, for having read the book. I understand the small world or 'Small Things', a world that lives in these atoms that make up everything in the Universe a little better, the world of the 'Big Things' such as the planets the Universe and why they behave the way they do. Again, it reiterated to me that Einstein's genius, his creativity, has much to do with courage. He would apply the grandest of his thoughts to the Universe, beyond what one could conceive and that to me is interesting. It does show that to create something path shattering you need lots of courage, even to think. That's what creativity is about, it looks like.

The Paradoxes of Life - The Resist-Persist Paradox

2012-01-28T21:13:00.000-08:00

This is something I read in a book - perhaps in Louise Hay's 'You Can Heal Your Life'. What you resist, persists.

So the thing you don't want the most, the thing you resist the most, will always follow you. Never leave you. Until you stop resisting it.

Accept it and it goes away. Simple as that. Flies, mosquitoes, people, situations - accept.
Don't resist.

The Paradoxes of Life - The Silence Paradox

2012-01-28T21:09:00.000-08:00

It is the silence that communicates far more than words - in all things that matter.

Silence shows up this paradox wonderfully. Try remaining silent and stop communicating with words for a while. It shows how much we speak unnecessarily and without any meaning or purpose.

One thing I noticed was that while adults speak around in circles and ask redundant questions in spite of the silence, children do a fantastic job of communication.

To communicate more, be aware of the gaps.

Story Idea - The Losers

2012-01-28T05:25:00.000-08:00

This is the story of a bunch of forty five year old losers. Their marriages are on the rocks, their careers are the pits, they are perpetually broke and they have nothing but hot air between them. One of them is always scheming on how to get rich quick and has some of the most fantastic schemes that are just one step away. One of them has given up on life and is always throwing a dampener on things. One of them is always thinking of the good old days and is always stuck in the past. The last one is the narrator and he is the one who has a small job and seems quite happy with his life.

One day while dreaming up ways to spend the fortune that comes their way they actually do come across a fortune. How the four losers get rid of the entire fortune in a period of 24 hours and are back to square one and doing what they love doing best, talk about getting rich, is the rest of the story. Lots of gaps to fill but it could turn out interesting.

My Friend Pinto - Movie Review

2012-01-27T05:19:00.000-08:00

Promo looked interesting but the movie was not half as interesting. As the title gives it away, it is about Pinto - friend of the world, (has to be Mumbai or Goa, leaning to Goa, yes, you are right!). Pinto is a guy who lives in Goa with his mother and upon the demise of his mother is sent to meet his hen pecked friend in Mumbai for some reason best known to the Father (church Father type). Anyway Pinto quotes extensively from his mother's teachings, most of which are taught by all mothers, but Pinto takes these usually to-be-taken-with-a-pinch-of-salt teachings very seriously and looks like that is about the only education he has ever had. Anyway Pinto is a cross between Forrest Gump and Charlie Chaplin and some others surely, and the movie is a cross between Kabhi Haan KabhI Naa, Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron and so many long titled movies and we stumble along with him, hoping that somewhere the punch line will drop in. But the movie sails by and the punch line sails by too and we are all looking amusedly, waiting to be amused, when the movie ends.

Pinto 'is played by Pratiek Babbar with a wide eyed, wondrous look in his eyes of someone who understands nothing of how this world functions it seems. The movie begins with this Pinto coming to Mumbai, meeting his friend, messing up his marital peace, friend and wife getting stuck in traffic jam where they sort of their marital discord and do almost everything except have babies. Meanwhile Pinto lands in a neighbour's house, meets two warring lovers, befriends a Don, makes friends with Don's girlfriend, gives gyaan to a taxi driver's gambling nephew and does all sorts of stuff. There is a dead body, two dumb and dumber types with glasses and all, a woman who is saved from being sold off to the bad bad world, a grand dance at New Year and all ends well.

Not soon enough for me though. It kind of made me sick because it just had no energy going forward, just one cute scene to another, one cliched theme to another. Highly avoidable even on the reduced rates on satellite television. Catch up on sleep or meditate. Or even better start working on your Income Tax papers. Way more interesting.

The Paradoxes of Life - The Helping Paradox

2012-01-25T07:10:00.000-08:00

To help others, you must first help yourself.

Too many people out there are full of great intentions of helping society, humanity and the less privileged, but with no clue of how to help themselves to begin with. In fact one might appreciate this better when one tries to help oneself and finds that it appears to be a difficult question to answer. It will require much honesty and much clarity and love to address that issue.

In most cases it is the self that needs help first - from you. Once you take care of your 'self' you will find both the depth, the security and the patience to help others in a way that truly benefits them.

Yourself first. And after being fully sated, you will find it easy to share. To give.

The Norway Issue - Cultures That Are Worlds Apart

2012-01-25T02:52:00.000-08:00

The recent news item about the Norwegian authorities taking away a three year old boy and a five month old girl, siblings, from their Indian expatriate parents who are working in that country exposes how, despite all the talk about the world becoming a village, we are all essentially entire worlds away in terms of cultural understanding. Some of the evidence that the Child Welfare authorities have put forth in their defence for seizing the babies and putting them and their parents through unimaginable trauma (its is traumatic to even hear about such a thing) are things that are common in any Indian home. For a three year old son to sleep with his father, for parents to feed their children with their fingers, for not having appropriate toys for their ages, (for being jerky and awkward in movements?) for having hit the boy once - the children have been taken away and will be kept in foster homes until they are 18, by which time they would have grown into complete strangers to each other and their parents. As a concession, the authorities have followed some equally twisted logic and granted the parents three hours of time thrice every year separately with their children. What such a thing should do to the kids I cannot conceive - make them more secure and loving citizens? This has to be the cruellest thing I have ever heard. I really feel for the young parents and hope that this unfortunate issue is resolved soon.

For those of you who do not understand the Indian culture here are some eye openers then. We eat with our hands and the normal way of feeding young children here is to feed them with the fingers. An entire population of 1.25 billion has survived this kind of an upbringing and is doing okay. In Indian homes it is common for children to sleep with their parents until they grow to be much older than three, until three, almost every child sleeps with their parents here. In many homes where there is a space constraint, the entire family sleeps together in one room - and it could mean more than one family. Things work out just fine still. In India children play with anything they can lay their hands on - there are no soft edged toys with big red letters and figures warning the infants not to swallow them or eat them or not to use them to shoot people down - here. They play with rags, with sticks, with wooden toys, with plastic toys, kitchen utensils, mud, anything. What is appropriate for them is what they enjoy playing with. Rarely does anything go wrong. They do not swallow, do not eat and even if they do, they survive. And they do grow up fine, with a sense of humour, a sense of right and wrong - and not a sense of deep righteousness which cannot tolerate another point of view, another culture. That deep sense of misplaced righteousness is the reason why we have such strong cultural gulfs, why people cannot accept other cultures today.

For young mothers who are coping with young children and a new culture, sleepless nights and all the attendant problems of child rearing or infant rearing included, the perfect responses to authorities looking to take away the children may not be forthcoming. And that I suspect is at the root of everything, the mother's responses, must have been alien, causing her to be bracketed as 'unfit' to rear her own children. In India there is generally help in the form of parents and maids and children grow up quite well, hale and hearty, in the heat and dust, dirt and anger. In India it is not a crime to slap a child (not beat him or her senseless of course, but the occasional slap is part of our culture) and it is not done to inflict trauma. Most of us have grown up with the occasional whack on the side of the head and we are not the worse for it. What would be traumatic really, is if someone took the child away citing these reasons, and separated it from its parents when it is three or worse, five months old, for the next eighteen years.

The West has always missed the forest for the trees in this aspect. There is too much technique, too much logic and too little heart when it comes to dealing with children. All this stuff of 'protecting' the children could cause more harm than anything else. I'd advise them to come to India and see how children grow up here, including the ones born to the poorest of the poor, the ones they love to show in 'India' shots of slums, villages etc. The children may not have much of the above mentioned facilities, but most grow up as secure, well rounded citizens who have the capacity to laugh, to love and to help. Almost all Indians of whom you may have heard of, have grown up in the circumstances mentioned above.

Children who grow up with a sense of isolation could well turn to other forms of expressing their dark emotions, something that we hear of often these days in terms of shootouts in schools and such in the West. Ironically, yesterday, there was a byte from Oprah Winfrey who spoke about how wonderful it was that Abhishek Bachchan still lived with his parents. I am glad the Bachchans live in India and not elsewhere - they might have been sent off to all sorts of institutions under the guise of protecting them. Come to think of it, I am glad that I live in India, where the heart still rules the mind.

The Peaceful Warrior - Movie Review

2012-01-25T00:49:00.000-08:00

This 2006 movie is based on the book by the same name, by Dan Millman, an athlete, gymnast, author and speaker based in the US, and is largely autobiographical. It is about the struggle of Dan Millman as a college student to make it higher in the world of gymnastics. He knows he is good but he is still trying to find that elusive something that makes him feel in control. In one such restless bout, he goes off for a jog early in the morning and bumps into an old man at a service station. The conversation with the old man who speaks with amazing clarity on issues that Dan is confused about, coupled with the speed, agility and gravity defying moves, make Dan want to meet him more and more. The old man, whom he fondly calls Socrates, teaches Dan slowly the process of being the 'Peaceful Warrior' where one has to conquer the war on the inside.

The young gymnast does not understand the old man's ways at all and gives up many times. Once he quits and goes back to his old ways of partying, philandering and it is then that he has an accident that shatters his leg and puts even his ability to walk, under a cloud. The old man comes to him and asks Dan to train for his gymnastic dreams, without any attachment. Dan slowly but surely understands the way of the 'Peaceful Warrior' and makes an unlikely comeback into the gymnastic team.

"Being in the present moment", "being the move", "knowing the three things in life - paradox, humour and change", "the journey being more important than the destination", "the pursuit of excellence without attachment to the reward", "that there are no ordinary moments", and many more such concepts and thoughts are discussed by the guru and his protege. Another protege is shown, a girl, with whom the young gymnast appears to fall in love but that thread is left unresolved.

'The Peaceful Warrior' is an interesting movie with several quotes that one can use in one's pursuit of excellence. Especially in hard demanding times, when there is doubt and fear, the movie's dialogues do breathe in much inspiration. Most of the stuff is what we have heard before but that does not make them any less impactful. Certainly worth a watch for anyone.

On the negative side, a rather irritating side at that, the movie tends to tell all and show nothing. Everything is said by the guru and his protege in conversations, nothing shown. The guru's amazing speed etc is not on evidence anywhere except in one scene, in the rest of the movie he is plodding around slowly. Almost every concept that Socrates tries to tell the young man is discussed and not shown through practice which makes it a rather lazy way of telling the story. It would have been far more interesting if they had found ways of showing how those concepts are realised through practice rather than simple showing the boy coming in through windows, doors, and adopting such needlessly cute tactics. But despite all that, worth a watch, because there is some stuff that makes you introspect and can help.

Sachin Tendulkar's Burden - How to Get the 100th 100

2012-01-24T05:56:00.000-08:00

As he draws closer to the hundredth hundred, the burden on Sachin Tendulkar is clearly showing. It is no mean feat, a first of its kind, and would naturally weigh heavily on his mind each time he prepares for the next match, the next inning. Without doubt he would visualise the achievement, the applause, his own actions, his reactions later and all this clutter would add heavily to his burden. After a couple of decades of playing in a certain manner, preparing and implementing his strategies on bowling sides all these years, it is time now for Tendulkar to perhaps rethink his preparation. To perhaps lighten up a little and go back to enjoying the game. The century will come, if he does not get in the way which he is right now.

For starters- to turn all his preparation upside down - he could just forget about the hundredth hundred. (And that goes for the team as well.) He could make it all a big joke and get on with his game. He could just go and enjoy every moment of the game he loves so much. And as he gets closer to his hundred, it is important for him to just stay intensely in the moment, and not ahead of the moment i.e. the hundred. It will come when he is ready for it and right now, in his tense manner, he is not. He must do what he probably believed in all these years, that the game is bigger and that he must allow it to happen - not control it fully. Control, true control, comes when you let go.

It is another record and one that could be broken as all records are sometime or the other. It is easier to be happy and to continue doing what gives the most happiness to him - playing the game. If the pitch is any indication to go with, his big chance is in this Test and I suspect that if he just lightens up a bit, he could do it right here.

Well Done Rajasthan - Fantastic Job

2012-01-23T21:41:00.000-08:00

This has nothing to do with the Rajasthan police or the Rajasthan government's methods at keeping Rusdie away but more to do with its Ranji Trophy cricket team. Rajasthan was way down in the order of states who were likely to win the Ranji Trophy for several years and when they won it last year, there was much delight and surprise. But to win in twice in a row shows that they have perfected a process that is worth emulating by other smaller states, most of which seem to have no self-belief, no conviction. In fact why just the smaller states, even bigger states such as Mumbai, Delhi, Tamil Nadu, Karnataka, West Bengal can do well to take a leaf of out of the Rajasthan method.

The Rajasthan team is not one that evokes fear in the opponent's minds. It has some former players, ageing certainly, like Hrishikesh Kanitkar and Aakash Chopra, and several rookie players that no one has heard of. But they play to their strengths and they play hard. The way they started off against Tamil Nadu on the first day, in Tamil Nadu's homeground, was itself the kind of a start that would have sent alarm bells ringing for the sheer display of will, of desire to win. For all of the first day, the two openers, Vineet Saxena and Aakash Chopra, batted resolutely, giving a glimpse of the purpose, grit and resilience the team was made up of. The start itself would have made the opponent's wonder at how seriously the Raasthan players took this campaign, the pride that went into it, and that would have won more than half the battle. Compare that kind of resolute batting with the across the line shots that the TN batsmen played and you know the mental framework of both sides.

Kanitkar and Chopra did their job, the professionals from Maharashtra and Delhi, but the local lads Vineet Saxena, Bisht, Rituraj, Pankaj Singh and every other player came up with heart warming performances. It has been a show where there are no stars - everyone played for the team. Surely everyone must have backed one another, stoked the desire in one another to wrap their hands once again on the Trophy, followed the basics well and helped one another out. I do wish Aakash Chopra, a writer of considerable talent himself, writes about his experiences with the Rajasthan cricket team, which could be an eye opener for many team related activities.

Congrats Rajasthan and well done!

Shagird - Movie Review

2012-01-22T04:48:00.000-08:00

This was a surprise by Tigmanshu Dhulia. I had never heard of this movie and only watched it because Sagar recommended it to me. 'Shagird' has some shades of a Hollywood movie of a bad cop and his good assistant cop but goes beyond that in its adaptation. In the end, quite entertaining, with a few twists and turns that surprise you.

Nana Patekar is the bad encounter cop in Crime Branch who makes deals left right and centre and makes pots of corrupt money for himself and his bosses, a Minister. To his corrupt team of cops joins a new recruit, Mohit Ahlawat, (was Recruit the movie I am looking for) fresh wish morals and idealogies, and there is seesaw between the two. Mohit cannot understand the trigger happy ways in which Nana kills off people, makes money etc and Nana though initially suspicious of how this rookie got a prime posting as this, believes him when the rookie saves his life a couple of times. But then the rookie's girl friend, journalist Rimi Sen gets kidnapped and there is talk of terrorists and all that being released along with a dreaded gangster. The gangster and the terrorists are released and then killed off by Nana who is also planning a double cross of the Minister. He realises too late that there was a bigger game plan behind after some interesting twists and turns in which almost everyone dies.

One of those thrillers that entertains without too much engagement from you, with perhaps a couple of loose ends, or rather slack at some places. A decent watch overall, with a story where some thought has gone in to surprise the viewer a couple of times. Funny how it came and went and I never heard of it.

The Rushdie Episode - Do We Ban a Thought or the Person?

2012-01-21T22:51:00.000-08:00

It is interesting to see all the drama that is going on at the Jaipur Literary Festival about Salman Rushdie's coming to attend the festival, the famed assassination plot, the claim that the assassination plot was a ruse planted by the Rajasthan police to keep Rushdie (and therefore controversy) away, the readings from the banned book of Salman Rushdie's 'Satanic Verses' (which earned him the famous fatwa by Ayatollah Khomeini of Iran, the first of the many fatwas I had heard since) and now subsequent clamour for arrest of the authors who read from the book, prosecution of the Litfest organisers or the authors for hurting religious sentiments and so on. For all those liberal voices who have come out in favour of Salman Rushdie (what are they in favour of, lifting the ban?), there are also conservative voices, especially from the big boss of Indian fiction, Chetan Bhagat who has said that such banned books and banned authors should not be made into 'heroes'. More fuel for the fire surely.

But what is interesting to me is this - do we ban the book or the person who wrote it? Do we ban the thought or the person who thought that thought? Can the person come and visit (suparis and fatwas notwithstanding) as long as one thought of his is banned? When the person comes, does he bring his thought along with him or does he leave that thought behind? How does one ban an idea, a thought? If Salman Rushdie, the person where the thought originated from, is free to walk in the country, and is not banned, can the thought be banned? The book cannot enter India but Salman Rushdie can. It is a curious case to me that the person is treated as separate from the idea.

Since publishing of books is a collaborative process, are all others in the process banned too? Not really - because the ban it appears to me covers only the idea, the book. I read somewhere that much of this furore has to do with the UP elections and the Muslim vote.

The world will move on - Rushdie or not. For all his perceived faults the winner of the Booker of Bookers, an Indian by birth, is an exceptional writer, a rare talent, and no one would deny that. It is even more interesting to know that while M.F. Hussain, another Indian of rare talent, has been hounded out of the country by Hindu fundamentalists and lived abroad and died there in his later years, Salman Rushdie could well be facing an almost similar fate, being banned by the Muslims.

But I still wonder, in these times of the internet especially, how anyone can ban an idea.

10 Words that only a Hyderabadi will understand

2012-01-21T05:55:00.000-08:00

Having been asked to discuss a theme called 'Salaam Hyderabad' recently I have been thinking ever since about what is the true test for a Hyderabadi. Here is a preliminary list of words that I will put up and to which we can keep adding along the way - of things that only Hyderabadis understand the meaning of.

1) Kaiku
This is an invitation to engage in a long discussion on anything because one can keep saying Kaiku for ever and at one point the other person will have no answer. Roughly translated it means 'But why?' but its only a rough translation. Only a Hyderabadi will not take this seriously and launch into giving answers forever.

2) Parson
Technically means 'day before' or 'day after' but this is a time frame that extends from three days to about ten years and more and no Hyderabadi ever takes this literally. 'Parson hi mila bhai' could mean a few months or years ago.

3) Cutaan marna
This is a Hyderabadi expression for those who maro 'cuts' on their motorbikes i.e. weave through traffic in a zig zag manner.

4) Pauna
A milky version of chai available only in Irani cafes.

5) Potti patana/ lighting maarna
Potti patana was made famous by Amitabh in his song in one of his movies as he tries to patao Hema Malini. This process is also called 'lighting maarna', a term that only Hyderabadi would understand. The person who maros lighting is called a 'lighter'.

6) Abich aatu
Technically means 'I will come just now' but as with 'Parson' it could be his polite manner of saying he is going away to the USA for ever. In all likelihood you will next meet that person after many many decades.

7) Darkhari
This is a Hyderabadi term for a 'dada' or a 'don'. And from it comes words such as 'darkhari pana' which means doing things that 'darkharis' do.

8) Latkor
No meaning exists for this word that I know of. It means something completely below par, detestable. Like 'latkor kaaman kaiku kar reyaaron'

9) Chillar
A close relative of latkor, 'chillar' is of a lesser intensity than 'latkor' and more acceptable version of something downright cheap.

10) Sarak gaya
Hyderabadi for having lost it. Or a noun that explains it all - 'birak'.

Next, some of those things that Hyderabadis like to eat in their Irani cafes.

The Monk, the Moor & Moses Ben Jalloun - Saeed Akhtar Mirza

2012-01-20T20:38:00.000-08:00

I bought this book entirely on the basis of what I heard at Saaed Mirza's talk with Mohana Krishna Indraganti and Vijay Kumar at the Hyderabad Literary Festival. Impressed by Saeed Mirza's views on many things I wanted to see what this book was all about, bought one, got it signed and got down to reading it.

'The Monk, The Moor & Moses Ben Jalloun' (Harper Collins, Rs.450, 247 p) is a novel, thinly veiled as one, which deals with the western world's gradual cover up, and at times downright plagiarisation, of the original work done by the Islamic civilisation in the periods 800 to 1300 A.D. or thereabouts on practcially everything - astronomy, medicine, mathematics, music, art, literature, science, chemistry, alchemy, architecture and what not. The novel starts with four students of English Literature in a University in the USA - an Indian, an African, an American and an Arab - who are studying Dante's 'Divine Comedy' in their class. Omar puts forward some material that he has found in the 'Book of Ascent' which shows similarities between what Dante wrote and what has been written much earlier in the Islamic civilisation, a hint of plagiarisation. Though the Professor does not take him seriously, the four friends decide to follow up the thought and get together to make up a 'House of Wisdom', a weekly meeting place for the four, where these issues are researched and presented.

The basis for Omar's theory of the Islamic civilisation's contribution comes from a small document in his possession, a diary of one of his ancestors who lived in the 12th century. The diary has details of conversations between a Christian monk, a well-read Islamic Moor and the Arab, Omar's ancestor, as they get together to translate some important documents. The four students read from these diaries and understand what went on on those times, through the recorded conversations.A third string is fitted in, of the Islamic scholar Abu Rehan in the 900 A.D.'s and his student Rehana. Abu Rehan's work in Mathematics, Astronomy, Science and many other subjects, his contemporaries, Ibn al-Haythan, Ibn Sina, Musa al-Khwarizmi, and their work in medicine, surgery, fractions, laws and a host of other subjects are an astounding body of work.

Using all three strings (and a fourth, a soliloquy) to propel the story forward, Saeed Mirza, with amazing research that is condensed brilliantly and fictionalised for the average non-academic reader, tells the story of how the West has over the years taken credit for much of what has been already discovered by the Islamic civilisation, the Hindi civilisation, the Sumerian civilisation. He talks of how Persia and other Islamic states were hubs of these 'Houses of Wisdom' where scholars from Hind and many other places congregated. He convincingly tells the story of how Islamic scholars had a wonderful period of creativity where they polished and fine tuned many theories and subjects already being propounded in the East. A period which somehow faded later on.

It is a fantastic tale. Saeed Mirza's research is amazing and the devices he uses to tell his tale are wonderful. He tells these three parallel stories from different periods of times, and gets the main message across clearly - that the Islamic civilisation is not one of barbarians, is not one that needs to be civilised, but actually was way ahead of other civilisations, particularly the West, which systematically destroyed, plagiarised and covered up its contribution. In many ways it is a tale of how the Orient and the Middle East has always focussed on creating, on knowledge, while the West has been actively involved in marketing them, something which it still does.

I had no problem with the fact that Saeed Mirza spoke through the characters, his research coming across in long paras of dialogue because it was interesting and was all contained in 247 pages. Would it have been better as a non-fiction book? It might have needed more research, more seriousness, would have entered far more needless debates, and would have reached far fewer people, which would not have served the purpose of instigating a thought - which I suspect is the purpose behind this book. With an intriguing title like 'The Monk, the Moor and Moses Ben Jalloun' the book is certain to have a great readership, of serious readers. There is tons of content, of intelligent thought and I loved the idea of a 'House of Wisdom'.

Saeed Mirza once delves half-heartedly into making the characters come alive as people, with a love affair between Linda and Omar, which for all reasons could have been avoided as well, but what the hell, it does no harm to have some romance. More so since the message gets across crystal clear, and this could very well be the start of a debate, a questioning, a start of many such works on the contribution of the Indian civilisation as well, and a setting right of what the world has been led to believe. Great job Saeed Mirza, for bringing out such a deviously woven novel to tell the story of an advanced civilisation that did not get its due.

Paradoxes of Life - The Friend-Enemy Paradox

2012-01-19T07:06:00.000-08:00

The ones who love you the most could be your greatest blocks to growth. They stop you, strangle you, suffocate you, blackmail you constantly with their sympathy, fears, doubts, needless sacrifice and 'love'. They are the real enemies one needs to watch out for. The ones who stop your growth with their limitations and their 'love'.

The ones who hate you the most and cause you great harm - who cause irritation and resentment, humiliation and criticism, anger and revenge - they are your greatest vehicles of learning. They hit you on the head and make you realise, make you purposeful and drive all your energies towards making something better out of you. They are your angels of growth.

Thought for the Day - The Heart and Mind Connection

2012-01-19T06:29:00.000-08:00

This is a thought that comes from the 'Memory Paradox' earlier, where I worried about how our memory was being transferred to gadgets, leaving us completely devoid of memory, and then, feeling. With gadgets taking over our original thinking, I am more than convinced that we have been reduced to being people with a lot of backup memory - that we carry in our hands, pockets, bags etc. Now this current thought explores the connection between heart and mind (with memory playing a crucial part in the drama of course) - a thought that always intrigued me.

When the mind is kept active, or 'actively inactive' as gadgets tend to make it, I suspect we find no space for reflection, for original thought, for feeling. This active inaction, could lower the amount of 'feeling', which is the space of the heart, and also the space where original thought grows from. So we could be looking at a whole lot of people 'busy' with gadgets, but who have no experience with real feeling (all feelings have been reduced to pressing a 'like' or a 'love' button, which can be done with superficial engagement). This could also explain why when the real feeling kicks in, due to a real experience, people cannot handle it anymore and are killing themselves for the smallest of reasons. The over engagement with the mind, and underused heart is at the root of this.

The changing of a relationship status on facebook to 'single' is the reason for many heartbreaks in this superficial world of the 'mind'. In a real world of the 'heart', it would require the person to face the other and tell him or her why he/she chooses to end the relationships - a decidedly traumatic and emotionally draining experience. Even if one had to write a letter to explain it, the feeling, emotion or heart element would come into play. But clicking a button?

The more superficial our world becomes, the more superficial and mediocre stuff we will create. And since all of us are products of this backup memory generation, we will know nothing better than to clap at the mediocrity on display. Where people use words and emotion without knowing what it is to experience them fully - merely read a book on 'how to', see a few movie scenes and say 'hey that seems to work so let's copy that', and then make up everything - from software programs to music to movies to writing - and beat our chests about how wonderfully successful we have been in marketing it to the tastes of the audience.

To me the true test of the work of the heart, the original thought, is in its longevity. Would it be remembered for its feeling, its thought - and influence viewers, creators and readers many years later? To me it would be in exploring the parts of us that remain hidden and bring our feelings that we hide. The great classics do that - they make us feel noble, happy, sad and all that. They make us feel better, as people, even if we had always felt lesser than others, and leave behind a taste of that noble, 'real' feeling. They do not simply aim for greatness by making us relatively happy, by mocking at those who are lesser than us.

It's time for creating some space for the feelings, for the heart. Space between us and these gadgets that are as clingy as some shallow and dishonest relationships can be in the name of 'love'. A love that seems to thrive on physical contact and always possessing. Having all the bytes, without experiencing the making of even one.

More heart then, more space to feel, and to create. More time with oneself. So we can create. A gadget-free day could make us all realise this connection between the mind and heart. And bring hearts closer. Life closer.

Paradoxes of Life - The Memory Paradox

2012-01-18T07:36:00.000-08:00

This is inspired by something Saeed Mirza said at the HLF about our memory being threatened by gadgets. And so it is, the bigger the memory of the gadget, the smaller the memory in your head is going to get. Phone numbers are a good place to start, we don't remember even five. And the more memory you have the more videos, songs, games, numbers, messages, pictures you carry - but you don't have the time to see them, enjoy them, remember them, respond to them, write to them, feel for them. nothing you have storage all over, have stuff in it, but you cannot do anything with it almost!

The more memory your gadget has then, the less your memory is going to be taxed. The less effort you make at prioritising things in life, about deciding what is important to you and keeping them close to your heart. Imagine if we were to throw away the mobile, or even have a no mobile day, a no computer day, a no gadget day. A no gadget week.

Life would slow down, and we'd remember at least one thing. That we are alive. And that it is wonderful to be alive.

Hyderabad Literary Festival - Day 3

2012-01-18T07:29:00.000-08:00

And for the third day in a row I landed up at the picturesque Taramati Baradari - the drive and the place seduced me as much as the HLF. Vinod took another day off and we drove together and walked into a wonderful session - Vijayasree in conversation with Suniti Namjoshi. Suniti is a writer and poet who quit her IAS and went back to her first love, English literature, many years ago. She spoke wonderfully with great lucidity, clarity and insight. Mark Tully could not make it but there was a session on adapting to India where Gillian Wright and Robert Bohm spoke, part of which I missed. And then readings from new English fiction from an all girl gang - Srilata Rao, Swati Chawla, Sagarika Chakraboorty (whose book I reviewed earlier, and who read very well at the reading), Sudha Balagopal and Priti Aisola of Hyderabad. I stayed back after lunch to hear a fine reading by The Little Theatre group which paid tribute to Indira Goswami, Arun Kolatkar and Vaclav Havel. Many school and college students attended and it was fun to have them around. i was happy to see Aparna, my friend Ranjani's daughter, and she apparently won prizes in poetry and story writing! Wonderful.

I would have liked to stay on more and be around to clap at the valedictory but had to return early. Fantastic work done by GSP Rao, T. Vijay Kumar and their band of volunteers, young and old. I certainly do see this festival growing and becoming much larger for many reasons. Good work then, team HLF, and a pat on the back for all concerned. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, made a few new friends, and am sure so did many others.

The Hyderabad Literary Festival - Day 2 belongs to Saeed Mirza

2012-01-17T18:20:00.000-08:00

I was wondering if I should drive all the way to Taramati Baradari yesterday morning again, alone, as Vinod went back to work at the Disaster Management cell, but the first session of the day was too tempting to ignore. A conversation with Saeed Mirza, the maker of many wonderful movies and more importantly the TV serial 'Nukkad', with Mohana Krishna Indraganti, director of 'Golconda High School', 'Ashta Chamma' and 'Grahanam,' and Vijay Kumar of Muse India. It was exhilarating stuff and the best session at the HLF so far for me.

Much of what Saeed Mirza spoke was the result of some fine issues raised by Mohana Krishna and Vijay Kumar. Saaed Mirza spoke clearly that he would like to speak as a writer here, since his second book 'The Monk, the Moor and Moses Ben Jalloun' which is just published by Harper Collins is out. He said that he felt that the cinematic medium could not contain all of his ideas and he needed more space, which he felt the novel allowed him. He spoke of how mediocrity ruled the day today and how we put everything on a pedestal and genuflect before everything - the novelist, the film star. He would rather be concerned with ideas than mere promotion of mediocre stuff. I agree.

The West he says has its own ideas of civilisation and was trying to push these ideas to us, which we unfortunately are lapping up. He was unhappy with the 'civilisation of Islam', of the idea of fundamentalism, and more importantly of the colonisation of the mind. He felt that war is a western concept, in current circumstances, and it was being thrust on us, the people of the world and worse, we are buying into it.

Interestingly, he said that all the games, gadgets and stuff that everyone is lapping up today are aimed at shortening or reducing our memory. And when our memory is shortened we forget our history, our uniquenesss, our identity. Speaking vociferously against the concept of democracy that was being advocated and followed, he says we are far away from that concept and will take many years to reach there.

He also poked fun at how snobbish we were, as Indians, how smug, as a nation, happy in the thought of India Shining and that of an impending superpower. 'Can you imagine how we will behave if we do become a superpower?' he asked. 'We will be genuflecting before all that is higher and kicking all that is below us.'

While on the subject of the West dictating terms and ideas to us he recommended the book 'Orientalism' by Edward Saeed. 'We've been had,' he said. 'And that is the first thing you realise once you read that book'. To Mohan's comment that the filmmaker must 'fight the audiences as well' he mentioned how when he was in Cannes for 'Albert Pinto to Gussa Kyon Aata Hain' he saw a promo of Superman on a plane, a stunt that cost four times what it cost for him to make his movie. We must fight them he says, from here. He debunks all the institutions of Nobel Prize, Cannes and says that there is nothing sacrosanct there that we need to ape shamelessly. In fact one must keep experimenting and pushing the envelope, even within the framework that is set already. While sipping tea later he was chatting with us and I asked him whether this phase of mediocrity will ever be pushed over, and he said it would be - but it will be after much violence. When the priest ad the businessman get together, it is a dangerous sign he said.

I love the kind of passion that remains in Saeed Mirza, and people like him, and would like to retain such passion myself. So impressive was he that I got a copy of the hardback of 'The Monk, the Moor and Moses Ben Jalloun' at a princely price of Rs. 380 and got it signed by him. He was most gracious and signed it for me. I forget now the questions that Vijay and Mohana Krishna asked exactly but they did a fine job and kept it going wonderfully. A case for having the right kind of moderators to make sessions come alive.

Iceboys in Bellbottoms - Krishna Shastri Devulapalli

2012-01-17T18:10:00.000-08:00

I was at the book launch of this book in the Park a few months ago with Raja and Vinod but we somehow postponed buying a copy of this book for reasons unknown. It was a different kind of a launch with an irreverent and funny trailer at the beginning, that was followed by the novelist being engaged in a discussion and a reading of a few pieces from the book. Krishna displayed his funny bone in ample measure that day, his constant stream of wisecracks flowed effortlessly, a lifetime of practice behind it surely, of not letting go of an opportunity to rip open the slightest of opportunities and in many occasions, as I later discovered, creating humour where none existed. I enjoyed his reading on the bit about Saikumar's entry into their household and his singing talent, a piece that brought much laughter and cheer into the gloom. We need more Krishna's in this world.

When I met him again at the Hyderabad Literary Festival a couple of days ago, I remedied my earlier fault and got myself a copy, which was graciously gifted by Chitra, his wife, who insisted that I do not buy the copy, and signed by him for me. It has a fascinating cover (designed by Krishna himself, who also draws, designs and illustrates apart form writing novels and film scripts) and that sets the tone for the book really, along with the highly intriguing title of 'Iceboys in Bell bottoms'. Bell bottoms set the time frame, the seventies, a time I am familiar with.

'Iceboys..' is the story of the growing up years of Gopi as he survives his dysfunctional family, his unwittingly dangerous friends and their games, the many unknown visitors to their house and Gopi's own imagination and experiences. Gopi's grandfather Meghamala (who becomes CG for the rest of the novel, the family abbreviation for the literal translation of Meghamala in Telugu which goes as Cloud Garland) is a famous Telugu film personality, a poet, lyricist who is a celebrity in his own right, and he takes to encouraging all kinds of talent from Andhra Pradesh that latches on to him to promote them in the film industry. Gopi's own father has been deprived of an education by CG who believed that there could be no better education than hanging out with him and helping him out. So Gopi's father educates himself while hanging out and helping his famous father and collects a large library of American magazines and becomes the resident expert on all things American, especially Hollywood, before branching out into a world of art, business of greeting cards and a love for the horse races. Gopi's mother is a rebel, the lone voice that fights CG and she has a penchant for watching as many noon shows as she can, roll on the floor when she finds anything funny and so on. Gopi's two sisters, Lalli (older) and Kavi (younger) and a grandmother who enjoys eating her food, complete the main characters in the household. There are many characters that flit in and out, Saikumar the singer being one, Jhansi the aspiring singer who 'brought breasts to their house', Dr. Sarathi the nutcase doctor who experiments on the family with his magic medicine i.e. industrial-strength steroids, Buster their highly sexed dog, the family of Renu aunty, CG's adopted daughter, and her deviant lot of children, Dodo, Sachu and the lot. As Gopi discovers the world of 'Iceboys', the localised version of 'I Spy' and then later on, bell bottoms, his life moves on in a hilarious roller coaster of experiences, of characters like Pistol Rangarao, the detective novel writer, his friends in school Deshbush (Debashish), Ramki and others and somehow survives his first encounters with love, sex, drink and growing up in the Chennai of the seventies.

'Iceboys in Bellbottoms' is hilarious. Krishna's imagination and creation of situations is something that comes naturally to him and the funny situations come quick and fast, line after line. Spend a few minutes with him and you know that he can do this all day. Undoubtedly one of the funniest voices in Indian English fiction, Krishna looks at life perhaps as the illustrator does, the cartoonist does, and has this wonderful ability to make those cartoons up in words, when he writes. His powers of articulation of what he sees in every situation, his use of language, his obviously well-stacked experiences from various fields, will serve him well as he writes more books and explores larger landscapes, funny or unfunny. What interested me was the slowing down on the frenzied life of Gopi as the book drew to a close, the seriousness that grips his life, and the change in mood and emotion from the funny to sombre, as Krishna slowly and expertly pulled on the brakes and ended the book without a lurch. Akin to a silken smooth landing in an airplane.

In my opinion that holds a lot of promise because he is equally comfortable with the slapstick, wisecracking world as he is with a world that explores other emotions of guilt, love, loss. To shift so easily is, I think, a hallmark of a writer with much promise and Krishna, if he sticks to writing novels, busy as he is with many other creative pursuits, can write the whole range, and well. Humour to me is the top of the pile and if one can pull of something like this, he can pull off anything else. Apart from Sidin Vadikut of the 'Dork' series, I find few Indian writers who can write really funny stories and there is much we can laugh about in India, ourselves and our lives, our volume, our diversity, our aspirations. Krishna has a wide and unexplored field ahead of him, more so as he can write confidently about everything - the toilet going habits of Indians to scratching publicly to all the obnoxious things we do - and I do hope that he writes many more funny books, and whatever books he would like to write. I'd definitely buy them.

Well done, Krishna, and take a bow. Here's wishing this wonderful book and its many endearing characters, a great journey into the hearts and minds of many readers. I thoroughly enjoyed it and I suspect, I will read it a few more times. Highly recommended to anyone who is looking for good humour writing in Indian Writing in English. Fabulous debut.

A Calendar Too Crowded - Sagarika Chakraborty

2012-01-17T00:39:00.000-08:00

'A Calendar Too Crowded' (189 p, Rs. 295, Niyogi Books) is a book of short stories and poems written by the multi-faceted Sagarika Chakraborty, a student of ISB. Hyderabad. Sagarika is a lawyer, presents papers on corporate governance and such complicated matters all over the world, writes, is a creative artist and salsa dancer and studies at the highly demanding course at ISB. The book is featured to be launched in one of the sessions at the Hyderabad Literary Festivals and there is a reading from it too.

The book is divided into the months, January to December, each month highlighting days that are dedicated to issues concerning women. Sagarika launches head on into a cause she believes in - women and the circumstances that appear to rule their lives, sometimes imposed by society and sometimes by themselves, sometimes overtly and sometimes covertly. Each story has a nameless protagonist and the circumstance she is trapped in. There are a few poems as well.

So the stories go - of the prejudices the girl child suffers from the womb to her death, of mothers consumed by their motherhood and losing themselves and their children, widows who are blamed for their husband's death, modern mothers who live life as a reaction to their mothers' lives than a choice of their own, of the caste system and untouchability, of sexual harassment, of prostitutes and their children who aspire to have a life, of women who give birth to girls, of reactions to the death of a forward 'club going girl' who is gang raped, the angst of a born again Draupadi who finds the hypocricy of society unbearably backward, of malnutrition and mothers who have to work for a living, the adopted girl child and her frustration, of quiet women achievers, of geriatric mothers who find love in old age homes, dowry harassment and so on.

Sagarika writes well. She has all the basic qualities of a good writer. She knows and uses the language well, has a flair for writing, writes with conviction and with credibility. She has a vivid imagination, feels deeply for her characters and does her research thoroughly. Her voice is distinct and there is no pretence, and she tells the stories simply - straight from the heart. It is evident that this is an issue that bothers her much, and one hopes that she has been able to rest some of these demons, these doubts and frustrations at these injustices, after writing the book. For one so young, she would hardly be in her mid twenties I'd think, she impressed me with her knowledge and research into mythology, the many references to the Mahabharatha, and more, spanning into the plight of Tibetan refugees. What struck me as most impressive, was her ability to get into the lives of these women and sound so convincing. To think like a mother, a violated refugee, an old woman in an old age home, a prostitute's daughter, a daughter-in-law in an old fashioned household and so many more characters would have been difficult for a college going young girl, unless one has met such women or read about them extensively. Even if you did, it still drains a lot out of you to visualise, feel for them and write it all down.

But then Sagarika has chosen the difficult route. In a world where selling chicklit is easy, something which she could easily have written given her age, her ISB days and her considerable writing talent, she chooses to write stark, difficult stories that force the reader to think, to look at oneself. She raises difficult questions that are easier shoved under the carpet. Once she chose this path it was always going to be difficult to find ways of telling these stories differently and making them deliver the message and the desired impact. But that is a choice well-made and I laud her for that - for not having taken the easy route and written a romance set in the ISB for which many top publishers would have queued up for. After all, there is a market for those kind of books - a vacuous market that one need not pander to, even if it is a large sized one!

The book is intense and drains the reader as well. They are real stories and one can only read helplessly, hoping that the women find their own peace, their own path out of this hole. Sagarika writes powerfully and conveys her point more than adequately and I think she would be a champion fighter for women's rights and causes. I do hope she puts her education, her prowess as a writer, her training as a lawyer and her passion and create something that would provide some direction and help to all the women who suffer namelessly in our societies and homes. I read somewhere that she is compiling some kind of a handbook for awareness about citizen's right and responsibilities - one that is badly needed as most of us don't know either.

On the negatives side of the book, I think the voices get too shrill and rant and rave sometimes. But then, since Sagarika chose to tell the stories through nameless characters, she could not tell this in any other way without making the same impact (and also perhaps, the stories themselves get into your system and you want to look away). I feel strongly that had she put in characters, fictional even, and told the stories through them, it would have left haunting memories. The characters would have brought in a lot of depth, would have told the story themselves and then the voice would have been theirs, different, clear and separate from the author's. They would have brought in their own stories, more facets to themselves.

The stories, powerful as they are already, would have been far more impactful had they had characters and dialogue. In the one story where there are shades of characters, the one of Ammi and Chupki who write letters to one another, this point comes across clearly - the characters can never be forgotten and that story to me, is easily the one I will never forget of this lot, because it aids me visually, gives me a character and a name to hold on to.

But Sagarika is young, and is a far more accomplished writer than I would ever have been at that age and am sure she will produce many more fine pieces of writing in what appears to me a very promising writing career. Good luck Sagarika. I have learnt much for reading your book and I am sure many women would find inspiration to remedy their lives or think differently after reading your book. Hopefully men as well. Here's wishing you and 'A Calendar Too Crowded' great success.

Another Heart Warming Incident

2012-01-16T19:14:00.000-08:00

Anjali wanted to fly a kite this Sankrathi and we were planning to buy one for her. The winter being one of the coldest in Hyderabad in recent years, we both got out of our house for a stroll on the Sankranthi day afternoon, towards the nearby park next door. There we found that our highly security conscious colony society had locked up the gate to the sand pit area with a brand new lock, probably fearing that the young kids from the slums who sometimes come to play there may just steal all the sand! Or worse, they may get some happiness! But since those kids never use any entrance and are adept at scaling all the walls in the world, this lock is for law abiding citizens who seek permissions.

Anyway, as we walked back out there were two young boys, one about 14 and the other 8, dressed out in traditional clothes, blowing the flute-like instrument they go with for Sankranthi, along with their gangireddu, and collect alms. The younger of them had just picked up a kite that was lying on the road, and the moment they saw Anjali, the elder one took it from his younger brother and gave it to her without a thought. When Anjali whispered a feeble 'Thank You' the older of the boys said distinctly 'Welcome' and walked on, his back erect, his head held high. Probably going to school. They were both exactly that age when kite flying is the most fun for boys and it was a good kite in good condition. For them to give it to a little kid without batting an eyelid was wonderful, just as the manner in which they accepted the thanks and walked off. It was a noble and kind act and they did not stop by for more than a second and disappeared around the corner.

I am more than convinced that such acts of kindness and nobility only exist in those who know that real joy lies in thinking of what the act means to others, more than what its loss means to them. Most times I see such acts coming from people for whom what they are giving up means a lot - they truly know its value - just as they know the value of what it means to the recipient of their kindness (the poor and the needy). On the other hand many people who can afford things hold on to their precious little, even things they do not need, and behave in such an ungracious manner that it sickens the soul (the middle class and the upper class).

There is little we need to live by, and if we can simply find the value, the true spirit of giving, it will enrich our existence and of those around us, so much more. Those two kids were giving much more than they were taking that day. Somewhere, in our hearts, we need to find that spot where those kids are coming from.

The Hyderabad Literary Festival - 2nd Edition

2012-01-16T07:46:00.000-08:00

The 2nd edition of the Hyderabad Literary Festival kicked off today at the picturesque locale of Taramati Baradari, on the outskirts of Hyderabad, a small distance from the historical Golconda Fort. Legend is that the king could hear the songs sung by Taramati while sitting in the Fort, an acoustic miracle, one of the many that the architects of the Deccani Kings came up with. This edition of the Hyderabad Literary Festival brought in names such as Gulzar, Saeed Mirza, Adil Jussawala, Kiran Nagarkar, Jaishree Mishra, Indu Sunderesan. Amish Tripathi, Dileep Jhaveri, Mark Tully, Meena Alexander, Aminudddin Khan, Kartika of Harper Collins and many more. From Hyderabad there were Sachidananda Mohanty, Hoshang Merchant, Mohana Krishna Indraganti, Sridala Swamy, Priti Aisola, Shankar Melkote and others.

Taramati Baradari

Vinod took a day off from his usually busy schedules and we planned to meet at Minerva at 830 am, grab some breakfast and ride to the venue. We were joined by Rasana Atreya, who is making strong progress as a novelist - her debut novel 'To tell a thousand Lies' has been shortlisted for the prestigious Tibor Jones Award for unpublished manuscripts and is one among six, and is also being lapped up by major publishing houses in India - and we all drove out on a relatively traffic free Monday to the destination. We marvelled at the place, attended the inaugural presided over by the Principal Secretary Chandana Khan, with Pavan K. Varma, diplomat and prolific writer as Chief Guest and Gulzar as the Guest of Honour. After the inaugural we went off to a panel discussion moderated by Meena Alexander where the panelists were Vamsee Juluri, Kishan Sastry Devulapalli (both hailing from families with a rich background in Telugu film industry) and yours truly. We spoke of Hyderabad, as the theme was 'Salaam Hyderabad', read from our works then proceeded to attend a talk with Kiran Nagarkar.

Lunch and then I roamed about and bought a couple of books while Vinod attended a translation session, and then we all met for an interesting session with Amish Tripathi, Jaishree Mishra and Indu Sundaresan. Some awards and by then I was ready to go but the indefatigable Vinod wanted to stay on. We finally decided to head back after a brief walk up to the dance hall which offered spectacular views of the sunset.

It was great fun all day specially being in the company of Krishna Sastry and his lovely wife Chitra, Vinod, Vamsee, Sheel, Sreenath, Vijay, Giri, Vijay, Dr. Suryaprakash Rao and his wife, and many others. Vinod, Raja and I had attended the book launch of Krishna's debut book published by Harper Collins, 'Ice Boys in Bell Bottoms' at The Park Hyderabad. It did sound very funny from what I had heard at the launch and .now having met Krishna, I am waiting to read the book quickly. Chitra is also writing her first novel. We all had a good time hanging out together and I suspect the day would have really dull without Krishna and Chitra for company. They gifted me a copy of Krishna's book and I gifted them copies of mine.

There were many young faces which added to the festive mood. The location was brilliant. It was a perfect day and the evening had more promises to come - a jazz concert followed by dinner in the lawns. Vinod and I missed it with a heavy heart and drove back, hoping to go back again sometime in the next couple of days. G.S.P. Rao and Vijay Kumar and the team at Muse India, great work and a fine start. I enjoyed myself thoroughly. More to come in the next couple of days.

Thought for the Day - Health and Responsibility

2012-01-14T21:10:00.000-08:00

I might have jotted this down somewhere earlier but this time, its with a new awareness. In all areas of our life there are a few that we deal with responsibility and some that we do not. Typically the ones we deal with responsibility work for us because we go back and sort them out ourselves - they are 'our' problems, not 'theirs'. The ones where we takes less responsibility are those that don't work, have someone else to blame, and cause much tension. The moment we catch ourselves say 'Oh God, why me?' or 'It's all because of her/him/that /this' we are headed for trouble. That helpless feeling where nothing is in our control. Fear sets in and we panic.

Nothing exemplifies this more than the area of health for me. I had started running to the doctor and frightening myself with all sorts of dangerous probabilities until I realised how easily the symptom - a niggle here, a quiver there, a twitch here - disappeared soon after paying the doctor's consultation fee. So the last time I had a niggle, a cough, a bad throat, I held myself back (it's cheaper). I started doing the things that the body needed, rest, warmth, comfort and a healing environment - and miracle of miracles, the bad throat, the dangerous twitches disappeared pretty soon. No massive doses of antibiotics, no scary possibilities, tests and so on. This small experiment gave me much confidence and the nest time I had a small twicth i held myself back. Once again, it disappeared a day after. A small home remedy, some rest and a feeling of I'll deal with it.

I re-realised that the body has a powerful healing system. All it needs is a little faith from us, a little support. (I am talking here of issues that are being played in the mind, of course, not serious ailments or conditions for which one needs to rush to the doctor.) But with minor issues, I'd say, step back, take responsibility for the body. It is something you have created in your body and you can rectify it. Visualising the healing of that part of the body helps, being kind and gentle towards it helps, and most importantly not going into panic mode helps. You can handle it (a wonderful lesson from Susan Jeffers in her book 'Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway' where she mentions that the biggest fear is that we cannot handle things). Most times it's this I-can't-handle-whatever-this-is panic that starts the chain of fearing everything. Step back and it will almost always be healed. Handle your body with care, love and a sense of responsibility.

I think it should be the same approach with anything or anyone we know. If the body shows a sign of discomfort we must slow down instantly and listen to it, tell it that you will support it and handle it. Then the body goes into its own healing mode knowing that you support it. But if we instantly say I can't handle you like this and I will rush you to a doctor in panic, it will feel lost and unsupported. Imagine if our child comes with a small discomfort and we go into panic, or if a team member comes with a personal problem or if a friend or family member shows signs of distress and we refer them to someone else and panic We cannot treat people that way to get them to give their best for us, nor can we treat our body that way.We need to be patient, supportive and caring. Most of all, we need to take responsibility for it. For all that goes on in our life. It will normally handle it by itself, it we show some faith in it.

Paradoxes of Life - To Get, Give Up

2012-01-14T08:08:00.000-08:00

To get, you must learn to give it up. You give it your best shot, feel it, want it, burn for it - and then - give it up. And then you get it.

As long as you want it, it will elude you. It will tease you but stay out of your reach. And when you give it up, it will come to you.

It's an Ad mad World - Old Idea, New Idea

2012-01-14T03:56:00.000-08:00

This one irritates the heck out of me. First this guy asks the elderly guy if he can use his phone, then turns him down because he finds his phone rather old, and then becomes completely offensive to the extent of even feigning to hit him at the end. What's with you mate? It tops the list of irritating ads these days for me for its sheer offensive content, and the pandering to the 'youth' segment even if it means you behave like a lout with someone old enough to be your Dad. Come on guys, you can do better than that.

So the story goes of a miserly son of a gun who is generally filching calls off other people's phones. He asks an elderly gentleman if he can use his phone. But it appears that our ero does not want to use the phone to make calls and receive calls which is pretty 'old'. He'd rather fly to Mars on it you see. And he makes all sorts of faces at the old man's phone before flashing his own phone. Now if you had one already, why do you need another guy's phone? Then he shows the old man some sneak peeks on his new phone and gets back at him with some classic lines and cheap stunts. Not funny at all. Even if someone said that the old man was offensive when he says 'main paise nahin loonga' - I'd say this guy deserved it for the faces he makes when he sees the phone. To push his phone under the old man's face and repeat 'main paise nahin loonga' is not funny.

This idea that the youth is all wonderfully connected, tech savvy and rude to old people is all fine. What we don't need is middle aged actors going about behaving like college kids in an effort to make the youth think its too goddam cool. To me this ad goes to the bottom of the pile for its totally unctuous and offensive tone.

Creators - Paul Johnson

2012-01-13T22:38:00.000-08:00

'Creators' by Paul Johnson (Harper Perennial, 287 p) is an insight into the lives of 17 creators chosen by the author. It was a nice quick read and I got a glimpse into some of these creators of which I knew very little. Johnson begins by analysing creative courage - of how everyone can be creative in their chosen field and how it can be brought out to make life more fulfilling. he also talks of how creativity requires enormous courage to be constantly original.

Johnson begins with Chaucer, the English writer who wrote 'Canterbury Tales' sometime in the 14th century. Then we have Durer the painter, Shakespheare the English playwright, Sebastian Bach the musician, Turner from England and Hokusai from Japan, both painters, Jane Austen the novelist, Pugin and Viollet-le-Duc, architects, Victor Hugo, the French writer, Mark Twain the American writer, Tiffany the American glassmaker, T.S. Eliot the poet, Balenciaga and Dior from the fashion world, Picasso the artist and Walt Disney from the movies. They are all extraordinary characters and it is fascinating to see how they worked, created and lived.

Most of the above have a large body of work save a few like Jane Austen who died early, at forty one, having written only six novels. They range from the multi-millionaires such as Picasso, Tiffany, Turner, Hugo and others while the Hokusai's and Bach's were hard up. Some received recognition in their lifetime while some did not. Some chased their fame and coveted it like Hugo, while some remained in the background, happy working and creating. But what comes across strongly is that all of them almost created with a mad frenzy, an enormous amount of work. Be it words, paintings, drawings, sketches, ideas, dresses, designs, movies - all of them worked as if they were possessed. The painters Turner and Hokusai painted almost from an age of three to their death, in their eighties, almost with no break. They were all extremely hardworking, had a great eagerness to learn from multiple disciplines (they met and created with experts from other disciplines as well) and most were also self-taught. They all had a passion to be the best in their business, loved the process of creating and kept at it for hours and hours.

I think there is a point to be taken there - creativity gets honed as we create more and more. As with ideas that we get when we write more and more, so it is with anything, the more we produce the more ideas we get. All these creators support that thought with their huge volume of work, which was their beginning and their end as well. One cannot create or wait for creativity to strike at an opportune moment to produce the great work. To create itself means 'work' - to produce. We must make the mind a fertile place that is favorable for the growth of new ideas, by coming up with ideas and more ideas, by exploring them, bringing them out. If anything Paul Johnson's book emphasised to me that creation is all about that single minded focus on doing what one can do well.

'Creators' also delves into their personal lives, their sexual preferences, their vanity and nobility, their fragility and their strength. Some were noble, some cruel, some generous, some tight fisted. They came from all sorts of backgrounds, some had no education, no training, no money - but they created and spoke through their creations that remain till today. One can read it without much involvement and get a glimpse into the lives of some masters.

Dhobi Ghat - Movie Review

2012-01-12T22:09:00.000-08:00

Watched 'Dhobi Ghat' last night. It has a different take on Mumbai and had a few moments when it drew me into it. And for a first time director I think its pretty well-made. It is visually appealing, is unhurried, explores new nooks and corners of Mumbai and its UP-Bihar-rest of India connection, traverses the class divide from the highest to the lowest. But overall I found it unconvincing simply because I never bought the story of the two rich people, the investment banker (though she does a really good job) and the artist (reliable and somehow almost muted to the extent of looking like he is gagged). The story of Yasmin is what drags you in and to some extent the story of the dhobi, rat killer, aspiring film actor, Munna (Pratiek).

I don't know why Kiran Rao chose the name 'Dhobi Ghat' but anyway, the story is about a rich investment banker from New york down in Mumbai with her rich real estate tycoon Parsi parents on a sabbatical. I assume she was doing some photo-project on livelihoods in India. She meets an artist Arun (Aamir Khan) who is not comfortable with people, with anything in fact. We come to know he has recently been divorced, and that his wife lives in Australia with their six year old son. The two (artist and investment banker) somehow land up in bed at the artist's house that night, though I saw no signs of amour in the artist, and the girl did not appear highly sexed either. Anyway they wake up the next day and we find a 40-45 year old artist apologising to the investment banker who is actually telling him that she found the experience really enjoyable. His apology seems to bring up some bad memories in her and she storms out of the house, offended, for god-knows-what. To me that scene was the most unconvincing and perhaps needless as well. Why sleep when you don't want to? Why apologise? Why get offended?

Anyway they get on.And then they meet Mumbai's only dhobi Pratiek. This is another loose end because no dhobi can take on more than a single building's loads in Mumbai and even that's a bit too much. But here is this guy traversing all over the town and doing dhobi services for Arun and investment banker and also throwing in some extra services for one more rich, fat, middle class madam. For some reason the investment banker drags the dhobi to be her guide to livelihoods in Mumbai and he shows her the dhobi ghat where she takes pictures. They also see some movies, drink chai at home, takes him on drives in her cars and leads him on big time. Her work is never shown, her motives are unclear. Is she in love? Is she doing her project and needs him for that? Is she using him to get to the do-it-first- and-then-apologise artist Arun? Anyway she shoots Munna's portfolio for his movie chance and gives him prints. Meanwhile she is also taking pictures of the apologetic artist surreptitiously for reasons best known to her.

But the best part of the movie are the three videos made by Yasmin Noor, a girl from UP who comes to Mumbai after her marriage. She makes the videos to send to her younger brother Imran in her village. But by the end of the third video the chirpy and happy Yasmin finds that her husband is in fact already married and is a shady customer in reality and decides to kill herself. She is brilliant, her voice haunting, the lines given to her the best. 'I can tell the sea all my secrets, and it will keep them safe from me' or something to that effect. Anyway her tapes lie with the artist who realises that Yasmin had killed herself in the very room he is sitting and he instantly changes houses. I mean, people die everywhere but you don't change houses so often do you?The movie ends with the investment banker finding the dhobi by chance, hugging him and telling him to keep in touch and call. It is apparent that she wants to get the artist and not the dhobi now. The jealous dhobi does not give her the address of the artist but later, after she leaves, has a change of heart and follows her rather dangerously (why did he not call on her phone and tell her?) and gives her the address of the artist. She is grateful and sheds a tear and that ends it all.

I'd have liked the artist to have gone after the girl Yasmin and I would have liked to know more of her. Perhaps even a bit more of the dhobi and his dreams. Some resolution of their lives. Even if it meant that the investment banker and the artist get together for that cause and fall in love in their unconvincing manner. For me somehow Kiran Rao stopped short of taking this story to where I wanted it to go. By not following Yasmin, and by not really helping the dhobi, the artist and the investment banker show themselves as hollow people. The least they could have, if they were so moved by the plight of these two characters. It all ends as it does in real life. In all likelihood the artist and the investment banker will meet, sleep together and go their separate ways. The dhobi will do what he does best, wash clothes and kill rats (why?).

It had many possibilities this movie and I am disappointed that it did not choose a more courageous path. Still it gets into your system through its visuals, its pace and perhaps a connect to the two stories that I really liked. For Kiran Rao then, a more than decent debut, and hopefully the evolution of what appears to be a promising career as a sensitive, subtle director. As she gains more confidence I think she will make some fine movies.

Among the performances Yasmin takes the cake, she is brilliant with her voice and her eyes and with almost no movement but in front of the video camera, she draws you into her story. Pratiek is good, I loved the way he walked when he comes with the ironed clothes and the way he opens the bundle and takes out the clothes (I did not much like the comfort with which he sits in the backseat of the Audi though). Aamir is gagged and has little chance to express. Investment banker Shai, Monica Dogra, the American singer-actor, who has a role in Rock On, is the presenter for Dewarists, and who has her hown rock band in Mumbai, is pretty confident and good. One of those quiet evening, late afternoon views.

Climbing Mount Jadcherla

2012-01-12T01:01:00.000-08:00

This has been a long pending expedition planned by the original Chris Columbus, Koni himself. A hillock near the town of Jadcherla, a distance of about 80 kms from Hyderabad, has been the object of his affections for many a year and he has been enticing the rest of us to climb this magnificent hill. We made many half-hearted attempts earlier, and once even went halfway (to the hillock), but we finally did it. And wished we had planned the climb a few years ago.

The ride to Jadcherla is smooth on the magnificent Hyderabad - Bangalore highway. We passed one toll booth, paid the to-and-fro fare of Rs. 74 and followed the signs until we happened upon the turn to Jadcherla. The big hillock with the flat top is the one, a tree and some small temple like structures can possibly be seen. We wound our way through some small colonies with narrow roads and reached the base.

The climb is steep. It took us less than half and hour, but it does take a bit out of you if you are not doing some exercise. Kiran, topping the fitness levels these days, easily running the 30 kms in good times, easily reached the top, followed closely by Vardha,, who is easily doing the 21 kms run these days. Non-sportsmen both twenty years ago.

Then went Koni, who is into walking five to ten kms a day on given days and one blessed abundantly with good health. I followed him wheezing and panting and sweating and I was followed by Ranjan, likewise.

The time was pretty good, the view worth the climb.

There is a small temple in a cave, a dirty well full of water. We saw the views, sat on the boulders and took in the large flat landscape that stretched across the horizon. The usual mad banter that only childhood friends can share and then we threaded our way back after an hour or so.

It was four p.m. when we stopped at a dhaba for some snacks and beer, at Hillridge for some late lunch and finally at Koni's office for a final drink to celebrate the achievement.

Notes to be made, need much more fitness, lose weight, exercise more, do more outdoors, laugh more.

Anjali - The First Home Grown Tomato

2012-01-12T00:42:00.000-08:00

After almost three months of caring for and watering the saplings gifted by the energetic Dr. Suryaprakash Rao garu and his band of merry men, Anjali and I, co-partners in this venture, saw the first of the many green tomatoes turn red. Her joy at seeing the heatlhy-looking tomato was immense and she quickly walked across and plucked it before I could utter a word.

The brinjals are still not showing any signs though there is some progress on the potato front. Exciting times ahead.

Memento - Movie Review

2012-01-12T00:30:00.000-08:00

Ever since I saw 'Inception' I've become a fan of Christopher Nolan's films. II saw 'The Prestige' later and was impressed by what I saw. I also knew that 'Ghajini' had the same elements that Nolan's 'Memento' had, of short term memory loss and a plot of revenge and seeing the original was always at the back of my mind. 'Memento' is one of those movies that treads a path for the first time (at least as for me) and thereby expands my world. All else behind it will only make small improvements.

'Memento' is the story if a young insurance executive, Leonard Shelby, who suffers short term memory loss (i.e. he cannot store any new memories), after a violent attack on him and his wife. In this condition he forgets even the beginning of a long conversation, faces, names, numbers everything. However he remembers everything clearly up to the accident, including all the skills he had on his job as an insurance investigator and the last thing he remembers clearly, the murder of his wife who had also been raped by the murderers. He remembers two intruders while all evidence collected by the police points at one intruder, the one whom Leonard kills in the attack, and the case is closed. But not for Leonard who has to battle the haunting memory of his wife's death, the infuriating handicap of his memory loss, and find the real killer in a world that is out to use his condition to its gain. In a cold blooded, calculated and organised manner where he makes notes, sifts for facts that he tattooes onto himself, , clicks pictures to remind him of his car, his hotel, his friends etc, Leonard follows the kills the killer - John G.

The fantastic thing is that the entire movie is shown in reverse. (In fact the hotel front desk manager tells him that Leonard's life is in reverse - he knows what he wants to do next but has no idea what happened before, unlike most of us who know what happened before but have no clue about what happens next!) The first shot is the last shot, of Leonard killing John G, and then it goes backwards scene by scene, unravelling the events that led to his finding John G. These backward going scenes are interspersed by a black and white conversations of Leonard over the phone about his condition, how he is going about it and a person named Sammy Jankis whom Leonard had investigated. Ironically Sammy gets the same short term loss condition which Leonard disallows in the insurance claim believing it to be reversible - an error that leads to Jankis's wife's death. As we understand the guilt that Leaonard carries of misunderstanding of Jankis's condition and his wife's intentions, her death and how he learnt from Jankis's own condition (all available from long term memory), we also slide back in the real story. Leonard meets Natalie who gives him the clinching lead about the real John G and he finally kills him. But not before realising that the real John G had been using him to kill his adversaries, as did others like Natalie.

To me its the audacity of thought that Nolan brings to cinema that is amazingly refreshing. he uses guilt and forgiveness, vengeance and other extreme emotions to drive his characters, paints them into a corner and lets loose from there in a manner we can barely think possible. To tell it all in the first shot and unravel it as we go backward, making each moment count for the viewer, making the viewer involved totally in figuring out what happened without losing connect is the work of a master. I wanted a few questions answered and sat back watching it all again for a good part of an hour. I probably will watch it again. A must watch.

The Connection Between Creativity and Love

2012-01-10T04:02:00.000-08:00

That we love to do certain things is known. That when we love doing certain things they do not appear to be 'hard' is also known. That doing things with love can make life a lot more easier and purposeful is also known. But the question that remains is this. How do I love something that I really do not love? A job for instance - of accounting, of sweeping, of coding, of studying, of practicing, of running. How can I force myself to love?

The key is to apply the mind to whatever you are doing i.e. look at it creatively and strive to improve on it. Is there a better way of doing this? Is there my way of doing this? Can I make this chore into something else? Once your thought comes in, normally brought by an element of pride (I will make this the best job ever), creativity flows. Once the mind, the creative element is involved, all work becomes a passion. From studying to practising to working, everything takes on an urgency, a sense of purpose, a pride. Only the best works then.

Funnily even in matters of the heart. As Prof. Higgins finds out in 'My Fair Lady', once you put your mind into something (read as improving something), you slowly introduc your heart to it. And then God save you.

Involve the mind somehow, get it to look at whatever it is that is boring you, creatively, and it suddenly transforms into something wonderful. A livelihood for some, a new energy for all those around, but mostly a life of contentment.

Thought for the Day - Wealth and Creativity

2012-01-10T03:53:00.000-08:00

The amount of time put into work is not commensurate to the return unless an equal amount of thought goes into converting the work into money. Mere work will remain work and earn wages, the most uncreative form of making money, but if one puts thought into converting work into money and multiplying it, then money starts gathering an energy, of creation. Money is a product of creativity, which in itself is a product of courage.

So the hard worker works for wages, with no thought. The smart worker works to maximise return on the work put in, often by expanding resources. It is the application of creative thought that is all the difference.

Thought for the Day - What Makes Us Laugh

2012-01-09T22:18:00.000-08:00

They say that the highest form of creativity is to crack a joke. To make up a joke or to write or do something that makes people laugh is an amazing ability that few have. But what is it about a joke that makes us laugh either 'with' or 'at'? Looking back on things that made me laugh - cartoons, stories, jokes, people, movies - it would appear to me that there are certain elements that comprise of this act of making others laugh.

- The ability to surprise and constantly do something that is not expected is certainly one that makes for laughter (all the great jokes).

- Stretching any emotion to the limit, sometimes inappropriately, makes us laugh. Crying, laughing, anger, or any of the other emotions when pushed beyond a limit makes people laugh.

- Shouting at others, invectives (Captain Haddock), beating up people (Tom and Jerry and all other cartoons)

- Stupidity, overt or innocent, certainly makes for a good laugh especially if the person lands in the spot after the act of stupidity.

- A tangle of errors, that seem completely unintentional and puts the person in trouble is certainly worth a laugh 9Comedy of errors, Chupke, Chupke).

- In writing, the comparison or the use of a simile of something serious with something perhaps outrageously ridiculous could make you laugh (Wodehouse, Dave Barry).

- Characters with traits that people can relate to, traits that lead them to behave in a fashion that is expected brings on some smiles.

- Self-deprecatory stuff also brings on the smiles.

- Seemingly unrelated connections to topics does make for laughs.

- Situations where you know the character is headed for trouble, and where the character does not seem to know that he or she is, and is in fact trying to cover up, makes for laughs.

- Complete honesty is funny. Perhaps the funniest when written or shown.

- Naivete, complexity, villainy, innocence - anything pushed to the limit is funny.

- Razor sharp repartee that shuts up people, crudity included, seems to make people laugh.

- Complete idiocy also makes people laugh.

These are some situations I could think of. But going by the above, which may be only some, it appears that at the lower end or the baser end, we tend to laugh at others misfortunes, troubles, handicaps, at their beating beaten up, being abused, being troubled. Its funny, but it is so, that rarely do we laugh 'at' or 'with' happy people - more with troubled ones. On a higher end, we may have to create a subtle sense of humour that works on wordplay, on wit and repartee, but again leading to one upmanship of one over the other.

But the laughter does cleanse the heart and makes life so much better to have the jokes, the people who can evoke laughter, the see movies that make you roll in the aisles, tears down your face. I would love to do that everyday if I could.

Paradoxes of Life - The Emptiness Paradox

2012-01-09T01:29:00.000-08:00

What we think is full is really empty. Be it space, or our own mind, the feeling that we are appreciating great content is an illusion because all there is, in such works, is space. Just as they say that we are 99.99% nothingness though we all feel that we are full of something, so is the densest material in the world - full of nothingness.

In great music they say, the spaces are more important than the sounds. In great dialogue, the pauses say more than the words. In cricket, the extra moment sends the ball racing to the fence faster, not steely muscle. In dance, the extra moment, adds grace and transforms it into something else. So it is in any thing in life. From work to relationships, from dance to cricket, from children to adults, from lecturing to teaching, from plants to animals, from arts to science - spaces are almost everything. Spaces aid their growth, make them great.

The less we say, the more effective. The tighter the idea, the clearer it is. And the more space it gives for the readers, viewers to develop a relationship with the idea.

Less, is more. Full, is nothing.

Between Tears and Laughter - Mulk Raj Anand

2012-01-08T23:08:00.000-08:00

I was gifted this book by Shobhs way back in 1997, a slim volume of 130 pages, priced at Rs. 45. It is a collection of short stories by Mulk Raj Anand whose writing career spanned from the 1930s to the 1980s. I read his 1935 classic 'The Untouchable' last year and became a huge fan of his, so when I found this unread book in my collection I quickly picked it up. I am glad I did not read it earlier - I would not have appreciated its content then.

There are 21 stories in all and they are all short, as short stories should be unlike some which are pretty much like novels. Some of the stories I did not understand (I have the same problem with some poems) but some were more direct and my style. But what hit me was the themes he chose to write his stories - the pratice of Sati in a world of Chitrahaar and Stardust where the young widow of a doctor with aspirations to become a nurse is burnt alive, the stories that revolved around untouchability and the fate of the young characters - often beaten till death, the stoning to death of a blind bard whose only crime was that he was blind and sang well and thereby earned more than the other beggars, of a young mother whose bowl is stolen so she cannot feed her young, of Buddha and of monks, of an insane child sacrifice which is accorded permission by the village, of a young untouchable who turns to Buddhism and who seeks to become the Buddha himself, of pension for prostitutes, of the way war affects us and our children, of the way religion is used by some to promote their interests. In small stories, Mulk Raj Anand lays bare all that the Indian society has been guilty of doing and perpetuating on its weakest and most vulnerable sections - the women, children, handicapped, the untouchables and even animals, as in how Moti the dog is killed and how a buffalo is left to die.

Mulk Raj Anand in a hard hitting style that one expects from him and no less, shows all that and more in his simple method of story telling without dramatising the scenes. They are potent enough as they are even if reported. It is written as it is, whether the father sacrifices his own daughter, or children of dead army soldiers playing war games shoot one of their gang accidentally, or the sati, or the untouchable boys murder because he ate a carrot - the horror sinks into the reader later and I guess, will remain forever, as it might with me. For those who wish to read about where we came from, this book offers a quick review. As always I am left wondering at the wonderful job Mulk Raj Anand has done in penning them down as they were so we could always carry our history with us, and learn from it. The stupidest thing would be to ignore it. Among my big regrets would be not meeting him in his lifetime - he died in Pune in 2004 - a time when was frequenting Pune often. But he has left enough of his legacy and I propose now to get my hands on his other books as well.

Ra One - Movie Review

2012-01-08T03:21:00.000-08:00

After everyone had finished blasting Ra One and I had absolutely no further expectations from it, I watched Ra One the other day thanks to the die hard Shahrukh fan at home, and hey, watched it fully. The key, like many say, is to have no expectations and things don't look so bad after all. I guess it works for everything in life, including ourselves. Like Tendulkar and his 100 for instance.

Ra One's creator is the geeky Shekhar Subramaniam with curly hair and curd and Maggi noodles, a game creator. As in normal fashion the geek gets the beauty and he gets Kareena or rather Sonia and between them they manage a small Prateek, about 12 years old I'd guess, considering his knowledge of contraceptives etc. Obviously he got his father's brains because Sonia is dumb enough to pronounce Konjem, Konjem as Condom, condom, which is probably a Freudian slip from her. Perfect match those two.

Anyway Shekhar is trying to impress his son and makes a new game for his Mallya kind of a boss. He makes a game with a villain who is surely scary to look at and a hero who looks like himself. There is some complex business of hearts in Ra One and G One that I did not quite get except that one is red and another blue and they are critical to kill anyone - just like humans you know. When the game is launched the Ra One, a real badass if there ever was, morphs into the Korean game creator and seeks Prateek who whips his backside in the first game. Ra One now wants to kill Prateek if that is the last thing he will do, even if he has to come out of the game. Now that is what happens when you give geeks all the big projects.

Anyway Ra One kills non-violent, curd eater Shekhar (surprising how the face-matching software did not work at that point) but its a relief because it gets the bore out of the way and in his place we now get a butt pinching, sex crazed (not really) robot or something like that (Shahrukh in his regular avatar, gay jokes, nose leak jokes and all) which has stepped out of the game and into the life of Sonia and Prateek to save them from Ra One who has also stepped out. While they are all dancing to the tunes of Chammak Challo where Kareena did some wonderful work with her arms and hands, Ra One has followed them across the earth in the shape of a bald Arjun Rampal who was a model on a billboard. Who is in the game now with both these characters out is the question, and all the creators dead? There is one left, the self effacing Shahana Goswami but all she does is have tea with Sonia and goes home. Perhaps she got fired for being on this disastrous and dangerous project. I'd have arrested her.

Before we get into a weird story of humans falling in love with robots, which they seem to be headed for, Ra one arrives and challenges G One. Prateek helps a bit, and in the end Ra One is killed, G One is killed, the Mallya lookalike is killed. But wait, these game characters might just come back thanks to that heart stopping logic so we have G One sitting on a chimney looking around like a meanie Cat Man. Now, isn't your job in the game young man? What are you doing sitting on a chimney as a deluded super hero with blue sparks? I found the sci fi effects fair enough and the game looked interesting. But the train stunt was a bore - you can't have him run along the train for five minutes, sometime on the top, sometime on the side, sometime inside, sometime outside and finally stop it. If it took you from Bandra to CST to get to the front of the train, then in all likelihood it was Lord Ganesha who stopped the train and not G One. Bro you got to check out the Rajini stunt in his Robot. And, what was that Delnaz shot about?

Anyway I thought it had promise and a plot that had potential. Somewhere after the first attack by Ra One in London, the film stopped being interesting and it was dull all the way. Perhaps because we know for a fact that G One would always be around to counter Ra One - even though he fancies his chances at 0.01% (again he almost terminates Ra One in the first encounter - funny). After that we only have to put up with his jokes, his attempts at romancing Sonia which seem better than what the geek did and wait for the inevitable showdown. Also we know that there will be no blue sparks flying between the two so that's another bore. Now if there was a Sonia lookalike robot in the game, there would have been more fun. Why did Shahrukh not think of that? Instead of dialogues like 'now I know that there are angels'.

Was it a film for children? Only twelve to fourteen year olds I'd think because the younger ones would get scared at the Ra One fellow. Even I got scared, at not just Ra One, but many other things as well. Kareena as Sonia looked most desirable. But all else falls flat gently. Shahrukh does not look like a super hero to me despite the costume. I did get confused as to whether the two game characters will stay in the game or step out - are they real? But when you stop caring if they are, that is a sign of disconnect I guess. Need to worry about those. Sometimes I feel these movies would do better without all the hype. Hype should only be to the extent of the content that you have. Or am I old fashioned? These days, its the exact opposite. But I did not shut it off, watched it all and thought it could have been slightly better handled in the second half. You know, more between the hero and villain, than the hero and someone else's wife.

Why is Sharukh failing and Salman clicking? My theory is that Shahrukh is heading out northwards to the stars while Salman is going southwards and getting more earthy. Maybe an earthy role Shahrukh, paan spitting and all? Worth a try.

Women - The Real Dalits of the World

2012-01-07T22:19:00.000-08:00

I read Kalpana Sharma's fine article 'On wearing 'Obscene' Clothes' in The Hindu today and decided to voice myself as well, on this issue. She does wonderful work Kalpana Sharma and I am an unabashed fan of her writing.

Going by what I have seen and heard in my life it would be a fair conclusion for me - that women are the real dalits of the world. (According to Wikipedia, the word "Dalit" comes from the Sanskrit, and means "ground", "suppressed", "crushed", or "broken to pieces".) They have been abused, kept backward, taken advantage of, used by men forever. And if the trend of the erudite statements by the DGP of AP Police and the Minister in Karnataka are anything to go by, will continue to be in that position (for those not aware of their statements, they have been saying that women are dressing more provocatively and thereby inviting rape or something to that effect). There is much talk of empowerment of women in all spheres, their education, financial independence, freedom of expression, equal opportunity et al but it remains that at the heart of society, it is a deep rooted thought that women always have to play second fiddle.

Sadly there are many who share the DGPs and the Minister's views and are not as vocal about saying it out loud like these two brave men (who have crossed over from the line of bravery to the other side by talking to our overactive press about their views). Several educated men (I know education is no sign of any intellectual progress) also feel strongly that the woman's space is in the kitchen, the bedroom, to clean up, to spawn children and keep the husband happy. Almost everything in their sphere is related to how the woman is able or not able to keep them happy. All blame is on the woman, for everything, including not being able to conceive. To this day!

Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on which side one is, we are in a transition period. Women have jobs, are expressing their choices, are proving themselves better which is the worst scenario for man. Women have always made men feel insecure with their inherent strength, wisdom, patience and beauty and I always felt that women did hold back all these centuries because they are the more secure of the genders. But now that they are also competing and exercising choices and giving it back, man's insecurities only increase that much more. Now I cannot handle this, he says, you cannot look beautiful or attractive, you cannot wear these clothes, you cannot step out of the house. If you do that I cannot protect you. As if man was solely responsible for protecting women all this while. If the woman served no other purpose for man, they would have been exterminated by now.

One to one, women have more b*lls than men and that is a given. From their birth women are constantly challenged with new environments, situations while men sit in the pampered comfort of their homes. Man may be physically stronger but that is about it. Men cannot handle women, especially an attractive one. Especially alone. And the biggest insult for men happens to be about their manhood - talk of being insecure.

My guess is that the transition period will shortly go the other way when women might just call the shots. There might come one day when women in power might ask men to lock up their rather easily excitable and blameless and innocent parts, and any transgressions may result in corrective surgeries. I would like to see how the men would like to react to such a situation when they are policed by women and their transgressions dealt with in pretty much the same manner.

You cannot go and rob the ice cream van just because it is advertising itself and say that it looked really good and therefore was robbed and its the fault of the ice cream for looking so good. It is called a robbery and is punishable. Now if the DGP and the Minister are against all these distractions I am sure they can find many more things that they could focus their immense power, wisdom and energy on to make a difference. It is their job to allow the ice cream man to advertise, make the ice cream look good and get on with his life. It is their job to tell the robbers that they cannot rob anything because they liked it - not side with them. Not merely tell the ice cream man that his ice cream was too attractive and he is likely to get robbed. We all know that. What we don't understand is why these guys are getting paid.

Forget the slutwalk girls, its time for a kick-where-it-hurts campaign.

Alvin and the Chipmunks 3 - Movie Review

2012-01-07T07:53:00.000-08:00

Watched this (thankfully not in 3D) at Prasad's with Anjali. Loved it. Its sassy, spunky and filled with fun, dance and music. I haven't seen the previous two but one need not, to enjoy this bunch of chipmunks and their father, a human who adopts them, Dave.

Now the chipmunks (delightful animated characters - Alvin, Simon, Theodore, Jeanette, Eleanor and Brittany) are in the world of humans and they are all headed for vacation on board a cruise ship. Alvin is always upto some mischief and he gets Dave into trouble with the captain. A salsa competition between the chipmunk stars and some hot salsa dancers, and some more fun on board, before all the chipmunks fly off on a kite due to a misfired adventure orchestrated by Alvin. How Dave and Ian, their old friend and foe, chase the chipmunks to rescue them and how they land up on an island, meet Zoe the bounty hunter, and how they all escape wiser and older after that, is the story. I loved the way Simon becomes Simone and that character is simply out of the world - I could watch him all day. All in all, I had a lot of fun and even Anjali gave the movie a thumbs up. Songs, dance, music, fun.

Better than Puss in Boots in my opinion. Worth a watch.

Story Idea - Cell Phone Attackers (or Married to the Mob)

2012-01-07T01:47:00.000-08:00

This is more in the Jaws meets Sixth Sense genre. The story starts with a lot of mischief going on in people with their mobiles playing a lot of mischief. SMSs, calls, MMS clips going from the wrong person to the wrong persons all over the place and sending the world into a tizzy. The leaders of nations find themselves caught in compromising talks, quotes and acts and there is a threat of a global war with all this going on. At every level there is disharmony, banking getting busted, economies going crashing, private info out in public space, discontent as marriages are breaking up, business alliances busting up, education going topsy turvy.

Puzzled by the fact that almost everyone has been affected a mobile phone software expert (our hero) starts wondering why the mobiles could suddenly go so awry. He comes up with the answer soon enough, the mobile space has been taken over by aliens and they are using the mobiles to start controlling us. They are using mobiles as a drug and getting us addicted to them so much that we cannot live our lives without them, and once they have captured almost everyone in their net, they plan to use the mobiles to zap us out of existence. Humans versus mobiles, the race begins. How can we save ourselves? Or rather as most people of this generation would be more worried about this question - how can we save our mobiles? From identifying races that have been entirely untouched by mobiles, to understanding the depth to which we have committed our lives to mobiles, the story can keep us teetering on the edge of world war, a humans versus aliens story, a humans versus technology story and finally, a human understanding of overdependence on gadgets that seem to take over our lives.

I can think of many wonderful ways in which my mobile or anyone's mobile can play mischief if it starts thinking diabolically. I can think of many apps as well that will make this more interesting. Then the mobile can actually cause physical harm later on - imagine it slapping the user, of tweaking the ear, or making screechy sounds. Juicy stuff for someone like me who is rather tech challenged and who looks at mobiles as if they are little monsters anyway. But it would be great if it could get some of these kids who are stuck on their mobile phones all the time off it for a while, just as Jaws kept many of us away from water those days.

PS. Got a better idea (this is added as an afterthought). What if all the networks and all get corrupted and go haywire, before just slamming shut. We won't remember a single number, most names, have no one to sms, call. I mean that mobile could just drive you nuts by sending wrong messages, giving missed calls, redirecting calls. Man, it could be a scary movie.

Chillar Party - Movie Review

2012-01-07T01:23:00.000-08:00

The movies for 2012 started on a good note as well with Chillar Party, a movie I wanted to watch in the theatres but could not. It is a fun story of children in a society in Mumbai called Chandan Nagar and how they go about saving their friend and his dog.

Set in a lovely colony or society as they are called in Mumbai, the Chillar party gang consists entirely of a young boys of about 8-12 years I'd guess. They play cricket, ride around on their bikes, sit in an old unused shed and generally do all that little kids do. Its a nice gang as well with nicknames such as Akram, Panauti, Encyclopedia, Jhangiya, Second hand, Silencer and so on. They lose all their cricket matches to their neighbouring oversized cricket team and have a problem with a society dog that relieves itself on their cricket pitch everyday. Just as they are wishing they had no dogs in their life comes a young boy Fatka to replace the man who cleans the society cars, with his dog, a mongrel named Bhidu. The Chillar Party does not like the idea of another dog in the society and to all sorts of things to get rid of dog and owner. But they give up finally and even become friends when Fatka and Bhidu help them beat their oversized enemy cricket team. Danger lurks when Minister Bhide comes to the colony and his PA is atatcked by Bhidu. Bhide starts a campaihn against unlicensed dogs and says that all dogs that have no NOCs from their societies will be captured, Bhidu is one of them as the society members do not sign. How the Chillar Party fights tooth and nail for Fatka and Bhidu is the rest of the story.

I saw that as usual the reviewers have been very conservative in their reviews and have stuck to the 3-4 star band which is safe. Also it is the kind of a movie where they can express their expertise on the newcomers freely and dissect everything technically, something which they do not when big star movies come out. Chillar Party definitely has more going for it than 4 stars, which is the least it should get. It may not be the most earth shattering of themes, but to tell a simple story honestly and simply, is more the need of the hour these days when nothing we see on the screen seems to make sense except for the guys who are raking the cash home. Fine performances by the kids, a delightful story, some wonderful lessons for everyone concerned, specially children who are bound to watch the movie, and many more lessons for adults who tend to forget their lessons as they grow old (a dialogue in the movie says so). Great honest effort by Nitesh Tiwari and Vikas Bahl, and a must watch for everyone, big and small.

Marcel Proust - Quotes

2012-01-06T21:33:00.000-08:00

Some quotes from Proust.

A powerful idea communicates some of its strength to him who challenges it.

A woman one loves rarely suffices for all our needs, so we deceive her with another whom we do not love.

All our final decisions are made in a state of mind that is not going to last.

As long as men are free to ask what they must, free to say what they think, free to think what they will, freedom can never be lost and science can never regress.

Every reader finds himself. The writer's work is merely a kind of optical instrument that makes it possible for the reader to discern what, without this book, he would perhaps never have seen in himself.

Everything great in the world comes from neurotics. They alone have founded our religions and composed our masterpieces.

Habit is a second nature which prevents us from knowing the first, of which it has neither the cruelties nor the enchantments.

Happiness is beneficial for the body, but it is grief that develops the powers of the mind.

Happiness serves hardly any other purpose than to make unhappiness possible.

If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time.

If only for the sake of elegance, I try to remain morally pure.

Illness is the doctor to whom we pay most heed; to kindness, to knowledge, we make promise only; pain we obey.

In a separation it is the one who is not really in love who says the more tender things.

In theory one is aware that the earth revolves, but in practice one does not perceive it, the ground upon which one treads seems not to move, and one can live undisturbed. So it is with Time in one's life.

It is in moments of illness that we are compelled to recognize that we live not alone but chained to a creature of a different kingdom, whole worlds apart, who has no knowledge of us and by whom it is impossible to make ourselves understood: our body.

It is not because other people are dead that our affection for them grows faint, it is because we ourselves are dying.

Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.

Let us leave pretty women to men devoid of imagination.

Lies are essential to humanity. They are perhaps as important as the pursuit of pleasure and moreover are dictated by that pursuit.

Like many intellectuals, he was incapable of saying a simple thing in a simple way.

Love is a reciprocal torture.

Love is space and time measured by the heart.

No exile at the South Pole or on the summit of Mont Blanc separates us more effectively from others than the practice of a hidden vice.

Only through art can we emerge from ourselves and know what another person sees.

People can have many different kinds of pleasure. The real one is that for which they will forsake the others.

People wish to learn to swim and at the same time to keep one foot on the ground.

The bonds that unite another person to our self exist only in our mind.

The charms of the passing woman are generally in direct proportion to the swiftness of her passing.

The only real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.

The time at our disposal each day is elastic; the passions we feel dilate it, those that inspire us shrink it, and habit fills it.

The world was not created once and for all time for each of us individually. There are added to it in the course of our life things of which we have never had any suspicion.

There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we spent with a favorite book.

There is no man, however wise, who has not at some period of his youth said things, or lived in a way the consciousness of which is so unpleasant to him in later life that he would gladly, if he could, expunge it from his memory.

Those whose suffering is due to love are, as we say of certain invalids, their own physicians.

Three-quarters of the sicknesses of intelligent people come from their intelligence. They need at least a doctor who can understand this sickness.

Time passes, and little by little everything that we have spoken in falsehood becomes true.

Time, which changes people, does not alter the image we have retained of them.

We are able to find everything in our memory, which is like a dispensary or chemical laboratory in which chance steers our hand sometimes to a soothing drug and sometimes to a dangerous poison.

We are healed from suffering only by experiencing it to the full.

We become moral when we are unhappy.

We do not succeed in changing things according to our desire, but gradually our desire changes.

We don't receive wisdom; we must discover it for ourselves after a journey that no one can take for us or spare us.

We must never be afraid to go too far, for truth lies beyond.

What a profound significance small things assume when the woman we love conceals them from us.

For each illness that doctors cure with medicine, they provoke ten in healthy people by inoculating them with the virus that is a thousand times more powerful than any microbe: the idea that one is ill.

Desire makes everything blossom; possession makes everything wither and fade.

(http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/m/marcel_proust_3.html)

Truth is a point of view about things.

The Proust Questionnaire - My responses

2012-01-06T21:16:00.000-08:00

Apparently Proust believed that it is our duty to know ourselves better before we start to know others. The questionnaire aims to do so. I suppose one might as well take a shot at it and fill it out.

WHAT IS YOUR GREATEST FEAR?
Of being found out.

WHAT IS YOUR CURRENT STATE OF MIND?
Fragmented. Too many thoughts in too many directions.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE OCCUPATION?(WAY OF SPENDING TIME)
Worrying.

WHAT HISTORICAL FIGURE DO YOU MOST IDENTIFY WITH?
Karna of the Mahabharatha.

WHICH LIVING PERSON DO YOU MOST ADMIRE?
Can't think of anyone. Dhoni comes closest.

WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE FICTIONAL HERO?
Karna

WHO ARE YOUR REAL-LIFE HEROES?
Gandhi, Dhoni, Woody Allen, Dev Anand.

WHAT IS YOUR MOST TREASURED POSSESSION?
My sense of integrity

WHEN AND WHERE WERE YOU HAPPIEST?
When my daughter Anjali was born. Also when I am doing something I like.

WHAT IS YOUR MOST OBVIOUS CHARACTERISTIC?
Inflexibility.And a sense of equanimity that others seem to perceive.

WHAT IS THE TRAIT YOU MOST DEPLORE (HATE) IN YOURSELF?
Taking myself too seriously to the extent of thinking that the world works because of me. I despise this trait because it places too much burden on me which tires me.

WHAT IS THE TRAIT YOU MOST DEPLORE IN OTHERS?
An obvious fakeness that they seem to believe in. Also the fact that they take themselves too seriously.

WHAT IS YOUR GREATEST EXTRAVAGANCE?
Buying myself a 50 inch tv.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE JOURNEY?
Almost all road journeys, in the company of friends, family and happy people.

WHAT DO YOU MOST DISLIKE ABOUT YOUR APPEARANCE?
My graying hair, these days.

WHAT DO YOU CONSIDER THE MOST OVER-RATED VIRTUE?
Generosity.

ON WHAT OCCASION DO YOU LIE?
When I think it might not be found, at least until a later time.

WHICH WORDS OR PHRASES DO YOU MOST OVER-USE?
'I think...'

IF YOU COULD CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOURSELF, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
Stop taking myself too seriously and just be. Act more, think less.

WHAT DO YOU CONSIDER YOUR GREATEST ACHIEVEMENT?
Filling out a questionnaire like this in public space.

WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE TO LIVE?
On a hill by the sea, on a mountain.

WHAT IS THE QUALITY YOU MOST ADMIRE IN A MAN?
A happy disposition.

WHAT IS THE QUALITY YOU MOST ADMIRE IN A WOMAN?
An element of mischief and fun.

WHAT IS IT YOU MOST DISLIKE?
An obvious overestimation of oneself.

WHAT DO YOU VALUE MOST IN YOUR FRIENDS?
Openness to let me be the way I am.

HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO DIE?
Peacefully.

IF YOU WERE TO DIE AND COME BACK AS A PERSON OR AN ANIMAL, WHAT DO YOU THINK IT WOULD BE?
Pass.

IF YOU COULD CHOOSE AN OBJECT TO COME BACK AS, WHAT WOULD YOU CHOOSE?
A mirror. So I could watch people be themselves, admire themselves.

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO (WORDS YOU LIVE BY OR THAT MEAN A LOT TO YOU)?
To stick to what I believe in, even if it may not be in agreement with what others think or which may not make others happy.

WHO HAS BEEN THE GREATEST INFLUENCE ON YOU?
My parents, though much of it, unconsciously.

Nothing as insightful as Marcel was even at 13 or at 20. But this is it.
http://www.angelfire.com/ms/chseng2/proust.html

The Proust Questionnaire

2012-01-06T20:37:00.000-08:00

The Proust Questionnaire is based on two questionnaires that Marcel Proust filled out - one when he was 13, another when he was 20.

At age 13, Proust answered the following questions.
* What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
To be separated from Mama
* Where would you like to live?
In the country of the Ideal, or, rather, of my ideal
* What is your idea of earthly happiness?
To live in contact with those I love, with the beauties of nature, with a quantity of books and music, and to have, within easy distance, a French theater
* To what faults do you feel most indulgent?
To a life deprived of the works of genius
* Who are your favorite heroes of fiction?
Those of romance and poetry, those who are the expression of an ideal rather than an imitation of the real
* Who are your favorite characters in history?
A mixture of Socrates, Pericles, Mahomet, Pliny the Younger and Augustin Thierry
* Who are your favorite heroines in real life?
A woman of genius leading an ordinary life
* Who are your favorite heroines of fiction?
Those who are more than women without ceasing to be womanly; everything that is tender, poetic, pure and in every way beautiful
* Your favorite painter?
Meissonier
* Your favorite musician?
Mozart
* The quality you most admire in a man?
Intelligence, moral sense
* The quality you most admire in a woman?
Gentleness, naturalness, intelligence
* Your favorite virtue?
All virtues that are not limited to a sect: the universal virtues
* Your favorite occupation?
Reading, dreaming, and writing verse
* Who would you have liked to be?
Since the question does not arise, I prefer not to answer it. All the same, I should very much have liked to be Pliny the Younger.

Marcel in his twenties,
* Your most marked characteristic?
A craving to be loved, or, to be more precise, to be caressed and spoiled rather than to be admired
* The quality you most like in a man?
Feminine charm
* The quality you most like in a woman?
A man's virtues, and frankness in friendship
* What do you most value in your friends?
Tenderness - provided they possess a physical charm which makes their tenderness worth having
* What is your principle defect?
Lack of understanding; weakness of will
* What is your favorite occupation?
Loving
* What is your dream of happiness?
Not, I fear, a very elevated one. I really haven't the courage to say what it is, and if I did I should probably destroy it by the mere fact of putting it into words.
* What to your mind would be the greatest of misfortunes?
Never to have known my mother or my grandmother
* What would you like to be?
Myself - as those whom I admire would like me to be
* In what country would you like to live?
One where certain things that I want would be realized - and where feelings of tenderness would always be reciprocated. [Proust's underlining]
* What is your favorite color?
Beauty lies not in colors but in thier harmony
* What is your favorite flower?
Hers - but apart from that, all
* What is your favorite bird?
The swallow
* Who are your favorite prose writers?
At the moment, Anatole France and Pierre Loti
* Who are your favoite poets?
Baudelaire and Alfred de Vigny
* Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
Hamlet
* Who are your favorite heroines of fiction?
Phedre (crossed out) Berenice
* Who are your favorite composers?
Beethoven, Wagner, Shuhmann
* Who are your favorite painters?
Leonardo da Vinci, Rembrandt
* Who are your heroes in real life?
Monsieur Darlu, Monsieur Boutroux (professors)
* Who are your favorite heroines of history?
Cleopatra
* What are your favorite names?
I only have one at a time
* What is it you most dislike?
My own worst qualities
* What historical figures do you most despise?
I am not sufficiently educated to say
* What event in military history do you most admire?
My own enlistment as a volunteer!
* What reform do you most admire?
(no response)
* What natural gift would you most like to possess?
Will power and irresistible charm
* How would you like to die?
A better man than I am, and much beloved
* What is your present state of mind?
Annoyance at having to think about myself in order to answer these questions
* To what faults do you feel most indulgent?
Those that I understand
* What is your motto?
I prefer not to say, for fear it might bring me bad luck.
(From http://www.chick.net/proust/question.html)

How Proust can change your life – Alain de Botton

2012-01-06T20:31:00.000-08:00

And the New Year gets of to a brilliant start with this most unlikely of books. 'How Proust Can Change Your Life' is a book unlike any I have ever read. I have never read any of Marcel Proust’s work and I doubt if I ever will though I did happen upon a few of his famous quotes. But to read a book called ‘How Proust can change your life’ was an experience I never ever expected.

Alain de Botton uses a fine, easy-to-read-language that is full of energy and wonder, as he talks of Proust’s work ‘In Search of Lost Time’. For a while I wondered if he was making it all up, going by the pictures and the way it was written – the chapters are titled as follows: How to love life today (what if death comes calling today, readjust your priorities), How to read for yourself (knowing yourself through books), How to take your time, How to suffer successfully (being happy with one’s ailments and not forever blaming), How to express your emotions, How to be a good friend, How to open your eyes (to view all with the same wonder, not to look for the mistakes), How to be happy in love and How to put books down. De Botton quotes Proust from many sources and many of his friends and acquaintances as well.

Written in an engaging and even funny manner De Botton’s book analyses many of Proust’s positions on subjects wide ranging as the above. The thoughts are so fine and subtle that I failed to register them in my mind after one reading and require that I read the book again – it can easily be read again. I tried to recount what the book was about to someone and nothing came to mind! The pictures help, apparently that is how de Botton’s books are, illustrated. A second read surely for people like me who are ignorant of the ways of both Proust and De Botton. For those who are wondering whether they should read or not, I'd certainly recommend it. It is a totally different experience in how things can be done, books written and to that extent surely, can change your life.

Marcel Proust (1871-1922), the object of this book was a French novelist, essayist and critic. Son of a doctor, Proust was a sickly child, prone to asthmatic attacks. He was also a closet homosexual who apparently was one of the first in his times to write openly about homosexuality in his works. The Proust questionnaire which is now being administered by the Hindu on many celebrities revives the spirit of Proust in today’s world often to some quirky replies by the thinkers of our times.

Alain De Botton, a Swiss writer, television presenter and entrepreneur, has already written ten bestsellers – one novel (Essays in Love) and nine non-fiction (Consolations of Philosophy, Architecture of Happiness, among others) – a lot for someone who is in his early forties, has a school in London ‘The School of Life’ that approaches education differently, has an architecture project called ‘Living Architecture’ to build innovative houses for the general public and is an honorary member of the Royal Institute of British Architetcs. However he is not an architect by training as I noticed in his profile but has a Masters degree in philosophy and comes from a wealthy family, his father being a banker who has left behind a Trust of some 200 million. I am amazed at De Botton's energy and at the many things he is already doing.

There is an interesting talk of Botton on TED talks, youtube. Check it out.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MtSE4rglxbY

Thought for the Day - Follow the One Thought

2012-01-03T18:50:00.000-08:00

I always find my dithering between two or more thoughts. It happens like this. I start with one thought for eg. let me go to x. And then I sabotage the perfectly good first thought with another thought which says, why not take y also to meet x. And when y comes up with another option, and it becomes a lot more complicated as probably z gets added. Now I have three thoughts, each pulling me in different directions with different intensities. Normally I put my original thought last, and give more priority to the other two thoughts because of an unnecessary responsibility I dragged on to myself. It causes me (the one who originally proposed the first thought a slight heartburn at the thought of me, the one who brought in y and z, and sabotaged it, getting all that importance) and well, there's a lot of unnecessary drama going on. Get the drift?

I specialise in the above method of dithering, dilly dallying and putting myself last and I am surprised it took me this long to get this thought out. Anyway the New Year resolution and one I think I could adopt for the rest of my life now, is to choose between the options quickly, stay with that 'one thought' for good or bad (which will instantly make me take more responsibility for it because now its mine, and therefore should be a better choice as well!). It should make me more peaceful, less resentful and most importantly force me to take my decisions faster and better as well. I can see some people heaving a sigh of relief already.

One thought then in all I do. More on this as I see the results.

The Shatabdi Express - Pune Hyderabad

2012-01-02T10:29:00.000-08:00

For all those traveling from Pune to Hyderabad and the other way round, the Indian Railways has introduced the Shatabdi Express which is a nice option to try. The first big thing about this train is that it covers the distance is 8 hours as opposed to the regular 12-13 hours or more. The second thing is that its a day train and starts at Pune at 550 am and reaches Secunderabad at 150 pm, turns around, starts at Secunderabad at 250 pm and reaches Pune at 1115 pm. It is air conditioned and has a chair car facility, since it is a day journey, i.e. no berths. The regular chair car has 3 and 2 chairs which is a bit cramped with all the luggage and not much space for it, while the first class has a more spacious 2 and 2 chair arrangement which is far more comfortable. The Shatabdi is a fair enough option to explore if the timings fit in. The food and beverages are included in the fare and add some excitement to the journey.

The regular chair car disoriented me a bit as everything is slightly out of alignment, as if everything in the coach has been given to some trainee carpenters, workmen - the trays, the seats, the paneling, and almost everything looks a bit fragile and off alignment. It is amazing at how it looks, like some scene out of 'Inception' with many things at angles that one would not expect.

The food and stuff came on time and that was a saving grace - generally okay. The service of the IRCTC staff has all good intentions though it may not be top class. The coaches have plugpoints for those who wish to use their laptops or charge their mobile phones at every seating station. I'd recommend the first class though its double the price of the regular chair car for the simple reason that it is more spacious and fr less crowded. I suddenly see this train as a wonderful option to travel to Pune now and hope to make more trips in the coming months.

If - Poem by Rudyard Kipling

2012-01-01T04:25:00.000-08:00

Young Hemant Sehgal shared this classic poem with me - 'If' by Rudyard kipling.

'If' by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master,
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

Fantastic stuff.

Hemant also sent me a profile of Rudyard Kipling, a concise version of which is reproduced here.

'If' first appeared in his collection 'Rewards and Fairies' in 1909. Lines from the poem appear over the player's entrance to Wimbledon's Centre Court. Rudyard Kipling's life was largely tragic, starved of love and attention and sent away by his parents; beaten and abused by his foster mother; and he was a failure at a public school which sought to develop qualities that were alien to him. In later life the deaths of two of his children also affected Kipling deeply.

Rudyard Kipling achieved fame quickly but he turned down many honours offered to him including a knighthood, Poet Laureate and the Order of Merit. However ,in 1907 he accepted the Nobel Prize for Literature.

The poem is highly inspirational.