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Showing posts from 2012

Mine or World's

"Maana ke dosto ko Nahi dosti ka lihaaj.
Ye Kya baat ki ghair ka ehsaan lijiye."
[Agreed that friends (dear ones) no longer held the relationship as sacrosanct.
That's no excuse to sought favours of strangers.]At some point in time, some line, some couplet, some stanza of some song smacks you right in between the eyes.I had never sought favours of strangers. Whenever one has de-sanctified the uniqueness of a relationship, I have installed loneliness in its place.One day all the rooms of my building will be occupied by loneliness. That seems certain.But after all I have done for the loneliness, living for it every moment, giving away my nights to it every night, maybe bleed for it. Maybe by then I will own the right to the loneliness. And call it my loneliness. And not share it with the world.Yes, I wanted it to be in a relationship. But at least loneliness, my loneliness, just mine.I want to be an antique,archaic, trifle, or trash, whatever but in a home. I never would b…

Less A Key, More A Puzzle : Review of The Krishna Key

Keys open a door for us or it unlocks some treasure to us. Puzzles are an art unto itself. They are solved for the solving of it. It may or may not lead to anything further. 

The Krishna Keyis abundant with puzzles to solve. But the key may not be a key per se. But it is certainly a thriller worth one read. 

Before starting to read the book, it will certainly do well to just forget the comparisons of Ashwin Sanghi, the author of three mythological thrillers including the latest The Krishna Key, with Dan Brown. Coming with this kind of notions overshadows the actual reading experience.

Being a thriller, the book is all about chasing and finding the criminal, whom we, as reader, already know. As it is a mythological thriller, there is also an ancient secret to be revealed. And again for the same reason, the hero of the thriller must be an academic, in this case an historian, who can share the ancient knowledge or the explanation thereof. 

Ravi Mohan Saini, the historian, is an expert in the…

Punctured Story Telling : Review of Fractured Legend

In a crowd of books pedaling porn - of one sort or the other - and parading itself as the truth of relationships of our times, when I came across the following description 
“We are like the moths that follow invisible spiral loops to go round and round a flickering flame before jumping into the center leaving in their wake, a glowing red sore in the eye of the flame,” says the narrator, a temple slave. Priyambada makes up her mind to leave the temple where she melt into flesh at night and froze into statue by the morning. She renounces her immortal chalices, the temple facades, for a mortal life, for a life in flesh… But the tangles of life in flesh – marriage and bearing children – thrust her into a world of tribulations that cast her off into the past, sealed past, frozen past. Nandhini, a professional assassin, is plagued by an assignment to retrieve a mysterious manuscript that is smeared with a rope of blood across its pages. She finds herself in the midst of a complex game of dece…

Respecting the Care

It would be the most abrupt post I have ever written. Or most abrupt anything I have ever written.


It's a funny thing actually. When people come and start talking to you sharing their lives; you start caring for them; you do; strange, still, you do, even if you don't know them for a long time. You care to an extent that you also get concerned for them. You do; foolish, yes; you still do.


Then one fine sunny day, when you are just inquiring about their well-being out of pure care, what do you get? A nice little message saying that you don't have a place in their heart; it is goddamn crowded with people already there; comic; as if you were looking for a seat there. Oh, that also means you were not to be concerned for them; you were not to ask anything; you were not to say anything; you are goddamn not supposed to care; comic?

I have pets, nice honest to heaven dogs. They belong to different breeds; but they have few similar characteristics: they are loyal, yes; they are trust-w…

The Devotion of Suspect X

To start with a confession, this review is overdue. It is for the fact that I had had to read this novel cover to cover twice. Then only I could pick up my keyboard to type a review.

Now that I am starting the post, I am a bit apprehensive.

What do you write about a book of which 2 million copies have already sold, based on which there is already a cult movie in Japanese and whose author is hailed as the Japanese Stieg Larsson. What more is there to write then?

Let me start gently with the bare facts of the novel.
Yasuko is a divorced mother with a teenage daughter Misako and working in a small food shop. Not yet free from the shadows of her past, her ex-husband keeps on harassing her for money while she keeps on changing her job and household to escape him. But on his latest harass trip, Yasuko bravely stands up to him refusing to pay him any more. So, to further harass the mother and daughter, he turns up at her home. And in the ensuing struggle, he is killed by them.
All this happens i…

The Journey for a Sister

I barely managed to grab the plane home. Home, the phrase sounded unsure in my mouth, as I turned it over on my tongue. I was basically running back to see my mom. Home was incidental.
I was born with wheels. My parents kept on moving around with their jobs. I saw quite a few homes, but never home. The only family I knew was my parents and my sister. There were uncles, aunts, cousins whom I met annually; they were festival persons, never family. 
But this time, Mom has returned to our home town, settled in the house we have built, a building I can dubiously call home. My uncle and aunt stays close by with their two children. I have been hearing how my uncle and aunt, and especially the daughter made sure my mom felt at home in home. Practically, she made home home for mom.
So, I was going home. But I knew I was going to my mom. I'll meet everyone. 
(Aside, even though I have never felt home, I have always been, ever since I was a kid, looking for the one person I can accept as my sist…

Love & Other Things

"And my conclusion was this: that as you go on living with someone, you slowly lose the power to make them happy, while your capacity to hurt them remains undiminished. And vice versa, of course." Mme Wyatt

How true it is ! Wait a minute. How true it is? Or, is it true? 

Is it just another way of saying familiarity breeds contempt? May be I am making it very simplistic. Simple is something that Talking It Overis not.

Though Ipicked the book looking for a light read after finishing Barbarians at the Gate. That is a different book, different post. But suffice to say that though a real engaging read, it is not an open-read-shut-over kind of book. You keep on mulling over it for sometime to come. So, right after finishing reading the book, and still reeling under the facts in it and trying to judge it maybe, I looked for something light to engage my eyes. And though much abused a genre, love stories still deliver on this, if you choose carefully enough. 

Julian Barnes managed to dis…

To Climb the Mountain

To climb a mountain requires special skills in using ropes, harnesses, crampons, hammers, hooks etc. One has to acquire these skills through a regime of constant training. One also requires physical training to build stamina, flexibility, balance etc. These are the easiest parts.

The hardest part is learning to climb over the mountains of fear, lack of faith and trust that exist inside our minds and hearts. The constant doubt which goes on telling us that this mountain is not for us to climb, it is too high, too slippery, too unconquerable. Learning to overcome these treacherous hills of doubts which curbs our climb is the most important, most vital aspect of a mountaineering expedition.
It is indispensable to become a successful mountain climber.
It is the same with most other things in life.

Words, Beings & Relationships

The more close to a person we feel...the more we care for someone...the more we think of someone as our own...the more dear someone becomes...when someone becomes really our own and knows it for a fact, we have to become all the more careful in our conduct, our choice of words, and how we use those words.


There's too much of understanding. But at the same time, there is too much of emotional openness, emotional tenderness, and emotional vulnerability here.


Even a pin-prick goes like a stab right at the nerve joints.


We can be wounded vitally, in the cardinal areas, only by those whom we love.


And we always feel secure knowing that they too know that truth; and care for us enough, love us so much as to not do that murderous act or hurt us anywhere else either.


Something that pass off as a momentary lapse in others, really takes the appearance of a betrayal in the action of a dear one. 


It is not the act really. 


But what comes to be expected of us, because of our implicit promise of under…

Summers of Lost & Found

Summer was never a season for me. It was everything but a season.


In my kiddish days, my parents were posted in a small town, away from the town where my grandparents stayed. How I missed them! So, every summer vacation we would cross a mighty river to come down to my grandparents' town.


The last day of class before summer vacation would be so painful, so full of expectation. There would be the tinge of sadness of not being able to see my friends for a complete month. At the same time, the happiness and anticipation of being with my grandparents for a month. 


Summer gently taught me that the very thing that gives us immense happiness can also sadden us at the very same moment. 


The high point of this summer pilgrimage to granny town was crossing the mighty Brahmaputra river. This dangerous sounding water trip was always exercised through a age haggard ferry.  Looking from the wooden seats of the ferry, the mighty river looked like a baby, gently crawling. Until that one summer trip, w…

Please Throw the Umbrella

Is it ever going to change?

They are always going to throw the umbrella / kick the oar which was with them - protecting against the rain / fighting against the flooding river - getting beaten, broken, torn themselves trying to save them, be by their side.

They are always going to do it for them.

And human are always going to throw it, kick it, trash it.

Not that the umbrella wants respect or the oar wants felicitation. But at least acknowledge what all they faced for you, yes for you alone? No.

Or may be keep them in a corner of your memories? None.

At least accept they happily embraced the torn and fallen state for you alone? Nada.

Instead of deriding a torn umbrella which was always, is always going to be over your head taking the beating from the rain. It’s its desire / habit / nature to protect you. You must not hate it, no? It’s their duty as well as nature. And most importantly, their sole wish is to wither away protecting you.

But that will be human nature always.

Not that the umbrella…