Musings of an Unknown Indian

Methinks ... this one is Mushy-Immy-gate! (Part-V)

2011-12-29T18:18:00.003+05:30

Author's note: You can read the 1st part here, the 2nd part here, the 3rd part here and the 4th part here.

The 'tsunami' that was being promised by the great and legendary Immy Khan for the past 3 months, has finally arrived (a few days back) in the 'land of the puree'. After his speech (in Kasur) where he lashed out rather harangued the current rulers as 'looters and plunderers', the people attending the rally ran away with the brand new chairs - 25,000 in all, and costing a whopping 1 million! His spokesperson-cum-advisor-on-foreign-affairs - Dr. Shireen Hazard - said that the people did not 'loot' the chairs; they carried them away peacefully! :D

The rally was held to mark the occasion of the joining of (Mushy's Foreign Minister) Khurshid Mahmud 'Kursi' - into the PTI fold. Along with "game changer II" Shah Mehmood Gaznavi (the possessor of considerable thespian talents) as well as Sardar Asseff Ahmad Alif Laila (a closet poet) now in its ranks - that makes it three former Foreign Ministers who had overseen Foreign Affairs. Purrfect for the legendary Immy Khan, I say.

Next time the 'tsunami' may sweep away the stage along with Immy Khan on it, as well as their 'savarnity' or 'savrain-tee' - whichever they may prefer!

A word of advice: Looti hui daulat waapas laanay sey pehley looti hui kursian tau ley aao 'tsunami'-inducing logonn!

But then, that would mean registering an FIR, etc and that inturn might open up that proverbial Pandora's Box - containing such small but uncomfortable matters like how much was spent on this rally and other rallies, where the Vitamin M ... err ... funds came from, what is the source of the un-Tyrian-ing Immy Khan's wealth, etc. So, silence is golden and silence is the better part of valour. So Shhhhh.

Meanwhile migratory birds - especially those from Mushy's erstwhile party, the Q (for the Question mark - ?) League - continue to flock to Immy Khan's party, the PTI (Pakistani Tsunami by Immy) that has now also transformed into the Pakistani Turncoat Ittehad. Immy Khan must apply for an appropriate party symbol - commensurate with his until-now-sidelined party's (suddenly) newfound "game changer" status.

And all this while affidavits and rejoinders pile up with the 'independent' black-coat-wallahs, who incidentally will lose those blackcoats and even their innerwears and skins if they were to ever think of showing their 'independence' to or with the shining-boot-wallahs and ISI-certified folks. Coz their much-touted 'independence' flows from you-know-where, and in turn the latter's 'independence' flows from you-know-where.

Umm, not sure why though, but this Manzoor Ijaz-zat increasingly reminds me of the Chote Mian of the 'main nahi manta, main nahi janta' fame.

I deliberated on this and also on the strangely aa-bail-mujhe-maar-worded 'memo' supposedly delivered through the discredited Manjoor Ijaz-zat. I raked my memory and sure enough recollected old wine, sorry rooh afza, in new bottle.

Back in 1990, when Zardari's assassinated better half - Benazir Bhutto - then the PM, had to be dismissed - the term "security risk" and a "letter" purportedly written by her, were the preferred "brahmastra".

And sure enough, a "letter" that she "wrote" to her long time friend, Amb. Peter Galbraith, who was also Chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee then (in the am-Bushed land of the five-sided polygon that you must SeeIA) - asking him to "use his influence on" the then Indian PM - to "engage the Pakistani army on the borders so that they do not impede in my way", materialized out of thin air.

That the letter was dated 24th September (more than a month and half after her dismissal) and peppered with glaring errors apart from poor English, made no difference; and Benazir and her government was sent packing by the then President Ghulami Ishaq Khani - a very upright and honourable man who was also an honest bureaucrat, according to their media - on 6th August 1990, less than 20 months of coming into power.

For those who are confused, let me explain and simplify matters. A "letter" purportedly written by Benazir and dated 24th September 1990 was used to dismiss the 1st govt. of Benazir Bhutto - on 6th August 1990; after duly labeling her as a "security risk" along with a slew of corruption charges - as an advance Christmas-cum-New-Year gift.

Note: in order to further simplify matters: A "letter" (purportedly written by Benazir) dated 24th September 1990 was used to dismiss the 1st govt. of Benazir Bhutto - on 6th August 1990. You get it, no? Just look at the months mentioned for crystal-clear clarity.

All her protestations and appeal to the highest court in the 'land of the puree' came to naught, and the impartial courts dismissed her pleas and petitions with uncharacteristic speed and alacrity (something they have always reserved and displayed for Benazir and her father, and later for her husband too; hereditary black coat and beret, I tell you!)

That her 1st govt. had lasted barely 20 months and had succeeded the brutal Zia-wool-Haq regime that ruled with a very heavy hand as well as an iron fist, for nearly a dozen years; leaving Pak a more than bankrupt nation that was also teeming with drug addicts, criminals, Afghan refugees, a thriving Kalashnikov culture and various "warriors" apart from being a hotbed for sectarian strife - cut no ice. So 'corruption' rather "kruption" it was.

Also, how the son of a village patwari - made his mega fortune while remaining a very "upright and honourable" man, who was also as an "honest" bureaucrat, was/is conveniently never asked.

But, all the media sound and fury notwithstanding, those who have followed the events then, will remember that the real reason of that elaborate "letter" saga was - Iraq. The 1st Am-Bushed-White House and their cronies and backers were unsure that she would play ball vis-à-vis their grand plans in the then Saddam-ed Iraq.

The elections thereafter - held under a care-taker regime headed by Benazir’s staunch opponents, those she had shown the door from her party, brought in the desired "change" - in the shape of a landslide for Mian Naraaz Sharif.

These elections were duly certified as "free and fair" by (yo)UN and the am-Bushed-land-of-the-five-sided-polygon. As for the ballots, "angels" worked miracles ... yet again.

Even in the (yo)UN and the am-Bushed-land-of-the-five-sided-polygon certified "free and fair" elections of 1988 - held after their noble-and-pious dictator-cum-President Zia-wool-Haq met his maker - the "angels" had worked miracles; reducing the PPP (Pakistan People's Party) headed by Benazir to a wafer-thin majority in the center. Punjab - their most populous (with 60% of population) and powerful province was firmly in the hands of the Shareef brothers; and Mian Naraaz Sharif as CM even refused to receive the PM at the airport when she came visiting. The all-powerful shining-boot-wallahs and beret-cap-wallahs refused to salute the PM - because of her gender. Meaning: she being a female was from the wrong gender (according to them); since their mentors and benefactors - from the land of the holy sand and camel - not just disliked ... but hated her (and still do). And since the you-know-who was just like sunflowers, they followed every movement of the you-know-who.

The then army chief Mirza As-salam Alaykum Beg (he was the top shining-boot-wallah-cum-beret-cap-wallah that refused to salute the PM with the wrong gender) and the then ISI-certified chief - Hamid Gulbadan (who has always moonlighted as Immy Khan’s ideological godfather-cum-spiritual guru) along with their cronies went about forging an alliance of motley (right-wing, some of them very rabid) parties - called the IJI (the Islami Jaamroodi Ittehad or the Islamic Demo-crazy Alliance) - and propped up Mian Naraaz Sharif. They also distributed huge funds running into hundreds of millions - in those days; and this was/is suspected to have come from the land of the holy sand (the Big 'O' included). Strangely, this case is pending with their highest court for over two decades now, and while the incumbent highest black coat takes sumo moto notice left, right and center, he has somehow developed jaundice in his eyes when it came to this particular case. Apart from other cases pertaining to Mian Naraaz Sharif and other assorted holy cows, of course. For those, he has developed conjunctivitis also (as I have already mentioned in Part-III of this series).

The elections of 2008 held under Mushy's watch too was certified as "free and fair" by you-know-who and the victory of the current ruling party was conveniently attributed to the "sympathy wave" (supposedly generated due to the assassination of Benazir). Strangely this party had garnered more seats in 2002 and before (during all the "free and fair" elections, courtesy the omnipresent "angels") - in the absence of any "sympathy wave". Still, no one, including the certifiers, deemed it fit to tell us: if this was the "sympathy wave" where were the "votes", and if this was the "votes", then where was the "sympathy wave"??

Good question. No answer.

Her party, then headed by Hatim Tai Zardari (in 2008), who was not yet the President then, called it "intelligent rigging" on the part of you-know-who; but these were promptly dismissed by you-know-who and you-know-who.

Lets retrace our steps then.

In 1991, Mian Naraaz Sharif, grateful to be installed on the PM gaddi - gave his "gurudakshina" to his various "gurus" and "mentors" (both internal and external as well as extra-terrestrial) with remarkable speed and alacrity.

Result: Their environment friendly army sent battalions to help the you-know-which forces apart from providing stopover and refueling facilities in the war with the then Saddam-ed Iraq (to you-know-which-forces.)

Strangely, all these honourable gentlemen were never honoured with unique epithets and labels such as, "security risk", etc. and that country's gairat (honour) was never compromised - as a result of their many shenanigans.

Lets get back to the 1990 letter episode then.

Btw, that "letter", however, was so patently a forgery that it had made the Islamic Jaamroodi Ittehad (IJI) look foolish; and it almost appeared that a band of brothers got together and drafted that piece, in between plates of Nehari and perhaps Paya too - with ample help and assistance from the friendly "establishment" forces and their cronies.

[Note: The non-elected forces that have exercised power over the land of the puree's destiny are today known as the 'establishment' in their political parlance; and includes the army, intelligence and security apparatus. Their cronies in the media, business, legal community, civil society, various activists, NGOs, etc., too play their due role. Certain forces/powers from beyond its borders and even across the seven seas are also part of it].

The 'establishment forces' did other things too - apart from coining the term "security risk" for Benazir; it air-dropped doctored photographs of Benazir and her mother - Begum Nusrat Bhutto, from army helicopters - during the 1988 elections, etc., and spread objectionable propaganda-cum-character assassination against them via the print and electronic media as well as the internet (apart from unleashing a massive whispering campaign and rumour mongering) - before, during (the 1988 and 1990 elections) and beyond.

Cronies of these forces ran the media campaign against the mother-daughter duo. This being a family blog, I will refrain from re-producing any of those "gems" here. However I can only say that India and her politicians come out smelling of roses and tuber-roses and bhahmakamals and lotus’ and jasmines and much else when compared to that poisonous, obnoxious, snake pit - across our western border.

Now, cut to 2007.

After Benazir declared that she would return to Pakistan, no matter what, that old "letter" now resembling a yellowed-out, fossilized, Dead Sea scroll made its grand re-appearance.

Meaning: it was back from the dead and was reprinted in huge ads in several newspapers that were known for their sympathies for who-know-which-forces - by you know which politicians and personalities. Mushy's party was perhaps hoping that people had forgotten: that everyone originally thought it was a forgery even when it first appeared. It was Mushy and his team's misdirected and misguided effort to discredit Benazir. It cut no ice.

This so-called memo-gate is nothing but a D-grade attempt to copy that, no?

In 1977, there were large-scale protest rallies (led by a group known as the PNA, thanks to you-know-who and you-know-who), and the black-coat-wallahs were very much a part and parcel of it. Then, Gen. Zia-wool-Haq staged a 'bloodless' coup d'etat and imprisoned the then PM - Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto (ZAB). The highest court came to Zia's aid and duly sent ZAB to the gallows - on a fictitious murder charge. Strangely while fantastic stories of Hatim Tai Zardari and his supposed 'kruption' have been doing the rounds for the past over two decades, it is being 'helpfully' pointed out by members of the 'gairat brigade' that ZAB was never called corrupt, sorry, 'krupt' by anyone - not even his enemies.

What they do not say is that, it still did not prevent his hanging on a fictitious murder charge!

ZAB was deposed in 1977, hanged in 1979 and a few months later we saw the Soviet forces invading Afghanistan, followed by other powerful forces joining in to 'liberate' it. It's still yet to be 'liberated'. Obviously all that did not happen overnight, it required careful planning and the ZAB saga was a part of it - and an example was made of him by you-know-who. The hand of the Jimmy Caterer administration has long been suspected behind those mass protests.

In 1990, before the Iraq War (of 1991), Benazir was sent packing because of "inefficiency" (though no files were sent to her for over 6 months, and the bureau fat-cats remained totally un-cooperative, along with a hostile President, opposition, security apparatus, media, etc - but of course, all this was duly ignored) and "kruption" charges (not proven till date) became the "mantra" of you-know-which-forces.

In 2011, we have this phenomenon called "memogate" - that the black-coat-wallahs are very enthusiastic to pursue, while the shining-boot-wallahs and the ISI-certified folks seem too eager to make the black-coat-wallahs pursue it. Mian Naraaz Sharif - is trying his best to get back into the good books of his erstwhile benefactors. Hush hush meetings in Turkey seem to have taken place with a top Pesha - to avert noise pollution in the 'land of the puree' obviously; while a certain blackcoat's vehicle is said to have entered and left - after three hours - through a certain palatial gate, in the dead of the night - again to save precious daylight, obviously.)

The shining-boot-wallahs and the ISI-certified folks want to stop their 'strategic depth' in the western front and so do their backers from across the seven seas, as well as the land of sand and camels. They want to "take-out" Syria instead - you can see and read what is emanating from the "relevant quarters" and make your own conclusion. Their next target is Iran - and all efforts are being made to set the stage - for the massive change in architecture there, minus pipelines, but lots of pipe dreams.

"They" would also reward the land of the puree's shining-boot-and-beret-cap-wallahs and ISI-certified folks, for services rendered towards quieting the Bahraini protestors, etc. The latter want to resume their misadventures in the "eastern front" - and the "relevant quarters" will choose to look the other way or react mutedly at best.

Their "ahimsa" loving neighbour better be extra vigilant and watchful; coz the laal-jhanda-wallahs too are more than willing to lend a helping hand to their environment conscious evergreen brethren.

(More later...)

Picture: Courtesy link.

When a Lawyer Falls in Love by Amrita Suresh

2011-12-22T17:49:00.003+05:30

When a Lawyer Falls in Love - this interestingly titled book is the debut offering of Amrita Suresh, who had decided she wanted to be a novelist while she was still a bespectacled twelve-year-old, and finally managed to pen this one as a bespectacled twenty-two-year-old. So all credit must go to those spectacles, I presume.

It makes for a nice breezy read ... and nowhere does it in any way suggest that a lawyer (including one in the making) should not succumb to the matters of the heart. So lawyers and budding lawyers need not to worry! Come to think of it, there is no law that forbids a lawyer from falling in love too; therefore it is safe to infer that indulging in this activity is constitutionally validated and very much legal - for lawyers that is.

There are lawyers (read: law students) galore in the book, coz it is set in a law college - the All India Universal College or AIU - one of the best in the country; I leave it to your discretion and imagination to infer which one *Smile*

The college also has a great canteen and nobody ever complains of bad food and nobody ever succumbs to exam fever since there is very little mention of it. Their worries - and there is plenty of it - are of a different nature. Also since all the students resides within the college campus, we barely get a glimpse of the city or the state - except for some ice cream or bhutta or chat stalls - outside the campus gates.

The main characters are all third year students, but we do get some amount of flashback into their lives that serve to add and enliven the storyline, as well as aid in kind of fleshing out the characters - sufficiently enough for sustaining the tale.

The Laurel and Hardy pair of the chubby, diminutive, baby-faced Arian, Ankur Palekar and the bean-pole-like six-footer, Vyas Rao; the romantic-at-heart Bengali - Souvik Bose, the linguistically advantaged, brainy Malayali - Pavan Nair, the brawny Rohit Randhwah, the shy monosyllable loving Tamilian - Jaishree Subramaniam and the star-sign and palmistry guru-cum-Gujarati 'lioness' Sonali Shah; their collective trials and tribulations - mostly about their affairs of the heart - real and imaginary or hoped for, and a wee bit about their life in the classrooms or libraries.

There are a few other characters too, like, the graveyard obsessed Caroline D'Silva and her cousin, the would-be electrical engineer - Bhoomika Shetty, Souvik's mother, etc. that serve to garnish this tale that is ostensibly about budding lawyers; but which is in essence a pacey and humourous tale about those distant and not-so-distant carefree salad days when we reveled in our inexperience, enthusiasm, idealism, innocence, and yes indiscretion too.

The lawyers bit is secondary, since we hardly get to read about them being lawyers; it could well have been a tale about a bunch of budding engineers or doctors or management students or history/economics/literature students for that matter. If one were looking forward to those tidbits or nuggets of detail that is specific to law schools and the species that study there, those tales of moot courts, of intense competition and rivalry, of the shenanigans and/or idiosyncrasies of senior lawyers, etc, one would be disappointed. However, we do get some insights into astrology and palmistry and that grabs our attention completely. It is interesting and informative and apart from blending well with the storyline, makes us ponder and wonder.

There isn't much about the "culture" that these characters that people this book come from - real or Bollywood-ized; but generous amounts of the 'variations' that their respective tongues are capable of producing, like: laarn, aarn, sh-ave, po-lees, saw-site-ee, curry-er, kapi, lawyer, whaaire, vary open minded etc. generate a good-natured smile on our lips from time to time. And that, I mean the smile, shows up quite regularly; since the story is a humourous one and the writing style is simple yet breezy and quite easy to connect with. One can get a whiff of Five Point Someone or even its celluloid version 3 Idiots in it.

Book blurb: Ankur Palekar, a third year law student believes his life is quite sorted out. Except that he does not want to become a lawyer, has a family history of lunacy and has actually fallen in love. Vyas, Ankur's roommate and best friend, has no such problems - only a girlfriend who emerges from a grave yard of all places and who insists on visiting him in his boys' hostel. Add to it, a Malayali friend whose car never starts and vocal chords never stop, a law festival that is not completely legal and an arranged marriage which is more deranged than arranged.

My rating: I don't plan to reveal any more than I have already done coz that will be akin to playing the spoiler, and I'd much rather play Santa instead!

There are very few grammatical or editing errors and that makes the reader's journey that much smoother. The book jacket cover is quite well done and attractive and all credit to the author for not opting for a cheesy one instead - the kind we get to see dime a dozen these days. This one is a book that you would love to curl up with, if you are in the mood for a light, breezy read, that is. Don't go looking for insights into the lawyer fraternity or wanting to figure out as to how a hard-nosed, dyed-in-the-wool lawyer could actually manage to fall in love (!) of all things, and you would enjoy reading this book.

I am going with a 3/5 for Amrita Suresh's debut effort.

Details of Book: When a Lawyer Falls in Love/ Author: Amrita Suresh/ Pages: 230/ ISBN: 8183282059/ ISBN-13: 9788183282055, 978-8183282055/ Publishing Date: 2011/ Publisher: Offshoots/ Binding: Paperback/ Price: Rs. 100/ (Rs. 65 on Flipkart)

Photograph: The book jacket cover of When a Lawyer Falls in Love. Picture courtesy: link.

Methinks ... this one is Mushy-Immy-gate! (Part-IV)

2011-12-09T17:57:00.003+05:30

Author's note: You can read the 1st part here, the 2nd part here and the 3rd part here.

The 'land of the puree's' sovereignty or 'savarnity' (as they call it) has been violated. So horrible, no? Nope, flying and droning mosquitoes that resulted in 24 of their most precious creatures to meet their maker did not violate it. It was unfair though. How could those NATO-nic flying and droning mosquitoes do what they did without letting the valiant and vigilant PAF-fy know? And ... that too, so late in the night? Weren't those Nato-nic forces aware that the PAF-fy only work till 9-5? They have to worry about 'other' important matters of 'national importance' at all times and therefore they were busy 'ideating' late in the night, as usual. Hunn?

It was the job of those vile NATO-nic forces to 'un-ideate' them; buckets of water and even smelling salt was handy. But that evil force 'failed' to do its job. So what can bechara PAF-fy and its other brother forces do. It was not their responsibility and they did not fail in any way. So, no question of any resignation of any one wearing uniform, much less the PAF-fy chief, and no heads would be rolling; though people say that this is because they have square heads. But then people say anything. Bloody civilians!

But let me not digress. Lets get back to who was responsible for this 'grave transgression' of their 'savarnity'. Questions are going to have to be asked and answered, and the culprits identified and punished.

Fortunately some ISI certified fellas have one of the wicked fiends already in custody at Bahawalpur zoo; where he is being held under the tightest security and regularly interrogated by security personnel and zookeepers who speak fluent monkey. No wonder Veena-ji Malik flaunted the ISI tattoo prominently (she even appeared au naturel, so that nothing else could distract from that said tattoo), and is now the tattoo's unofficial ambassador. Their strategic assets are in very safe hands, I tell you.

Nevertheless, so far 'Bobby' (as that captured wicked fiend is now being called) has given little or nothing away, and is keeping mum about his true intentions when he crossed the border sans visa, sans permission - in fact sans anything, not even a tattoo. Apart from a very shifty look on his face that is.

Bunches of plantains - both yellow and green - have failed to change his mind. He munches on them all right, but that is the only purpose he opens his mouth for.

The ISI certified folks and the shining bootwallahs are not prepared to take any risk though. They strongly feel that 'Bobby' may be just the first, part of the reconnaissance or recce team for what is in all probability a massive task force of Indian monkeys that are even now massing at the borders, stockpiling fruit to eat along the way, and bent on nothing short of total domination of the 'land of the puree'. You see they are not unaware of a certain 'Hindu' epic. Never mind that that 'Hindu' epic was written millenniums ago, even before true faiths from the land of the sand and camels came marauding in.

But they cannot take any risk, only chance pe dance, especially since Hatim Tai Zardari and Ghee-lani have decided to confer the MFN (Most Favoured Nation) status to India. Bloody civilians!

It is crystal clear that 'Bobby' and his ilk will be making for their nuclear assets, and as a matter of utmost urgency they must invest gazillions of rupees in making sure that none of their nuclear installations is vulnerable to an invasion of dodgy-looking monkeys determined to get their paws on weapons of mass destruction and any spare fruit that may be lying around unclaimed.

Didn't the former spymaster and Immy Khan's spiritual guru Gen. Hamid Gulbadan state the same? And he should know. He has spent a lifetime dealing with plantains chomping Bobby-s and still does.

Even the day is significant. 26th November. In 2008, when Hatim Tai Zardari talked about forging closer ties with India, there were attacks. And in 2011, when Hatim Tai Zardari and Ghee-lani decided to extend the MFN status to India, there were attacks. But they are totally unrelated, I tell you. Coincidentally co-incidental. That's all. Bolstered by the great Immy Khan and his spiritual guru's psychic powers. And whether Manzoor Ijaz-zat put on a Bong accent and imitating Pronob-babu made the most important threatening call of 2008 or not, we shall never know.

However, the monkey threat is real and ever present. Therefore the ISI certified public service announcement is to be alert, to be vigilant, to grow a beard and to say Allah Hafiz instead of Khuda Hafiz. Since the former comes from the land of holy sand and camels while the latter is bloody Houbara bustard Persian.

They have also asked everyone in the 'land of the puree' to rise up and look carefully around them. Is there anything that looks a bit different? Bit alien ... like equality, irrespective of caste, creed, faith and gender; or the freedom to pray or worship in whatever way an individual may wish? Or Indian TV serials and other vile Indian stuff? Somebody you thought was a decent enough chap but has well ... a few monkey-ish habits or eats more bananas than one might expect? Anybody like that close to where you live? Root them out! They are bad for the nation's 'ghairat' (honour). The shining-boot-black-coat-colourful-beard-and-ISI-mark-wallahs and their cronies are the custodians of the 'land of the puree's ghairat; since they are very 'ghairatmand' (honourable) themselves.

Naturally the chief blackcoatwallah will take sumo moto notice and constitute a larger bench for the hearing of the 'Bobby' case, apart from constituting a one-man investigation committee that will submit its findings and report with uncharacteristic speed and alacrity. All this while lakhs and lakhs of people languish in jails year after year waiting for a hearing; many among them having already served more time than they would have, if sentenced. Many are innocent too, implicated in false cases - out of vengeance and spite. But that is not for the chief blackcoatwallah and his fans and blackcoat team to bother about; those people will have to wait for their turn with the invisible man in the sky.

A full assessment of the monkey threat will be made in due course and the results published in Greek - even though it is now a bankrupt language. 'Talk shows' and 'discussions' would be held in right earnest and since it is a matter of their holy 'savarnity' and 'ghairat', respected experts, analysts, opinion holders and distributors - who are also clones of Zaid-a Hamid-a - will be invited to take part in them. Immy Khan will be a permanent fixture, of course. While Jemmy Khan would be writing op-ed pieces in foreign newspapers and magazines, since she was unable to hold a demonstration in London - protesting the heinous crime of those NATO-nic forces, since they failed to drop fruits on the Vanity Fairy office.

The PAF-fy and its brother forces are keen to stop fighting their 'creations' on the western front but not stop their 'games' in Bheluchistan; and want to re-open their mis-adventures in the eastern front. Their "ahimsa" loving neighbour must remain extra alert and vigilant.

Why do they not want to close their swashbuckling Bheluchi front, you ask? Coz they are fond of the hearty Bheluchi cuisine! And it also provides a camouflage to their Houbara bustard hunting mentors - cowboys and holy sand included - to hunt for the two-legged and no wings variety of the Houbara bustards, who recently took out processions for ten days. This is the lynchpin to finally implement their grand designs on Iran; they want to change the architecture there, you see. And no pipelines. Therefore, 'memogate' has materialized out of thin air, even putting Houdini to shame, courtesy Manzoor Ijaz-zat and team. This is the 'gate' via which Immy Khan and Mushy can once again be installed you-know-where by you-know-who. All for a noble cause rather several noble causes, since Immy is also a non-profit philanthropist-cum-dry-cleaned politician with sudden skyrocketing fame and popularity. Wokey?

And it is precisely the same reason the mantra of 'kruption' of specific politicians is being dutifully chanted.

So, who is working with whom? What do you think?

Parting shot: Smoke and mirrors galore!

(More later...)

Picture: Courtesy link.

Methinks ... this one is Mushy-Immy-gate! (Part-III)

2011-12-06T14:56:00.010+05:30

Author's note: You can read the 1st part here and the 2nd part here.

Immy Khan we are told is fighting against corruption and has recently declared his assets.

This 'land of the puree' is so silly I tell you. Even though it was born out of a complicated C-section from India over sixty years ago, they have failed to imbibe or even learn any lessons. They are still stuck up on corruption rather corrupt politicians. The rest are as pure as the driven snow, especially the bureau-fat-cats, the holiest of holy cows that also wear shining boots, blackcoatwallahs and bijinesswallahs.

But while they are sweating and frothing at the mouths with 'kruption', we in India, have very prudently moved towards self sufficiency in food production and included the tasty 'bhrashtachar' - a delicious 'achar' or pickle - as a part of our staple diet. It ensures good health too, thereby killing two birds with one stone. Unlike Immy Khan's plan of taking 'two wickets with one ball' - with the help of Mushy of course.

The two wickets stand for Mian Naraaz Sharif and Hatim Tai Zardari, while Immy is the bowler - and the ball is Mushy! You get it, right? What a great pair they make - Immy and Mushy; they rhyme too. But let me not digress.

Recently Veena-ji Malik caused a furore by 'declaring her assets'.

Now that she has fulfilled the main criteria of joining Immy Khan's party, the Pakistani Tsunami by Immy (PTI), she should now promptly join it and be given a high post. Preferably co-chairperson.

I am pitching for the position of co-chairperson for Veena-ji Malik, since due to generation gap she may not have been able to 'declare her assets' as many times as the Chairperson - the great Immy Khan himself.

Btw ... though Immy Khan assures us that he has declared all his assets, he is yet to declare his black and 'White' ones. No puns. Sita Ram! Sita Ram!

He has also not told us where and to whom he has 'declared his assets' for the last four decades. Including interests, dividends and bonuses, if any.

Meanwhile Jemmy Khan has attested that Immy is not greedy unlike other politicians. Hmm. She had also attested Fatima Bhutto's ability and suitability to become the leader of Benazir Bhutto's party - in the past. She even turned journalist to further her cause.

Jemmy is now turning into a book writer also and her jemmy-of-a-book is supposed to hit the stands in late 2012 - which clearly proves that the Mayans were wrong.

It is not difficult to guess what its contents would be too; especially in light of the various books on Immy Khan that has appeared with unfailing regularity - in the last two-and-a-half years. She is also a crusader against corruption. Not sure how being the daughter of one of 20th century's most notorious corporate raider - Sir Jimmy Midas touch Smith - she can even think of such a thing. It's more than blasphemy, I tell you. But then she does not believe in 'charity begins at home' but in 'charity begins with home', and has apparently gifted Immy Khan at least one.

She is the fairy godmother to Julius Assange of Weakileaks fame and he has promised to reveal the names of Swiss bank account holders - from India and Pakistan - in early 2012. After that apparently some "elites" in both the countries will have "no place to hide". This is a sure shot reaffirmation of his faith in the two-nation theory, no?

However what Julius does not know is that we Indians only believe in Swiss chocolates, cows, watches, Swiss knife and Roger Federer aka FedEx. We don't believe in Swiss banks and Wikileaks, only piggy banks and paableak. Ask Mamata Didi if in doubt. Though I am still unable to get my head around the sudden media, FB and that little blue bird inspired Anna-hazard, followed by a sudden medical pilgrimage followed by FD-Eye in retail.

Btw, I am not sure if Jemmy too is a part of PTI ... since she has declared her assets to Hugh-ly Grant-ed among others, including Immy Khan of course; but it seems that Immy, Jemmy, the shining bootwallahs and the blackcoatwallahs have a common liking for ISI certified Swiss chocolates.

Meanwhile this Manzoor Ijaz-zat saga is becoming curiouser and curiouser. Apparently some 'P' has gotten the nod from some Arab states for toppling the Hatim Tai Zardari government in the 'land of the puree'.

Perhaps this mysterious 'P' has committed to issue as many licenses as possible for hunting the endangered Houbara bustards - with or without wings. In case you are wondering, let me tell you that some species of this Houbara bustard also walk on two legs and have been taking out processions for the last ten days. This is the major criterion for getting the nod from those Arabian Nights.

Umm, I am wondering who this 'P' could be. Not Pervez Bonaparte of the Kargil mis-adventure I suppose.

Wonder why he is talking about delivering himself as the New Year gift (Jan 2012) to his countrymen? Are they unable to buy any themselves due to inflation and noise pollution? Apparently he will also bring along Chengiz Khan - in the form of a soft toy, according to some soothsayers.

Hmm. Hmm.

But if he does return to once again "save" his country from "krupt" politicians, the Mayans will be proved right.

Meanwhile, Immy Khan's party is busy picking up 'electables' these days - an overwhelming majority of whom had been part of Mushy's disposition in some way or the other and are essentially 'left-overs' from different parties. Is Immy Khan planning to set up a biogas plant next, along with another hospital - this time to treat food-poisoning cases exclusively? All for the noble cause of non-profit philanthropy?!!

I advice the pious people from the 'land of the puree' to not bother about going for Hajj any more. It is too much of an effort. All they need to do is, circumambulate Immy Khan a few times - and be assured of eternal jannat; those keen to 'declare their assets', can do so without a worry too - 72 times.

Having said that, I must also add that his "game changer" of a party is increasingly looking like the forced reincarnation of the IJI (the Islami Jaamroodi Ittehad or the Islamic Demo-crazy Alliance) - that propped up Mian Naraaz Sharif in the late eighties against Benazir Bhutto and her party.

The then army chief, Mirza As-salam Alaykum Beg, and the then ISI certified chief - Hamid Gulbadan (who then also doubled and still moonlights as Immy Khan's spiritual guru), along with their cronies, fathered the Islami Jaamroodi Ittehad. There was no mother involved ... since all of them were pious people blessed by the Arabian Nights. Yeh aandar ki baat hai!

These gentlemen went about distributing huge funds running into hundreds of millions - in those days; and this was and is still suspected to have come from the land of the holy sand, notorious turbanator aka the big 'O' included. Strangely, this case is pending with their highest court for over two decades now, and while the incumbent highest blackcoatwallah takes sumo moto notice left, right and center, he has somehow developed jaundice in his eyes when it came to this particular case. Apart from other cases pertaining to Mian Naraaz Sharif, Mian Chote Sharif of 'main nahi janta, main nahi manta' fame and other assorted holy cows, of course. For those, he has developed conjunctivitis as well.

He must visit a reputed eye specialist pronto, before he also develops bipolar vision and bypoll-ar vision (thanks to Immy and Mushy).

Meanwhile Mian Naraaz Sharif and his party - the appropriately named Naraaz League - has approached Fatima Bhutto's (of a certain "must read" book fame) step-mother, Gheewali Bhutto, and the self styled chieftain of the Bhutto clan Nawab Mumtaaza Bhutto who also fancies himself as "Dahesar" meaning "ten-headed" or "the one with ten heads". Frankly, this one reminds me of one of our epics.

Incidentally this Dahesar chap wrote an article titled, "Bahadur baap ki buzdil beti" (meaning: The coward daughter of a brave father) on the eve of Benazir's homecoming in 2007. Not to be left behind, fiery niece Fatima and her stepmother too have made their respective 'contributions'. All of them are announcing to be mourning Benazir and claiming to be her legacy holders - for close to 4 years now (effective from the night of Dec. 27, 2007). Never mind that they accused Benazir of "stealing the Bhutto legacy" for many years prior to that, apart from regularly reminding everyone that Benazir was "not a Bhutto" and should not be using that name, because she was in fact "Mrs. Zardari"! They have suddenly realized that Benazir was very much a Bhutto - for the last nearly 4 years (again effective from the night of Dec. 27, 2007), and are claiming to be the "real" Bhuttos too. Now Badey and Chotey Mian have joined that bandwagon. There is also talk of Immy Khan and "game changer II" - Shah Mehmood Ghaznavi - aligning with them as well; while their ("real" Bhuttos) close ties to Mushy and other forces (whose game they have been playing) is not unknown. Wah! Wah!

Btw, Fatima of course blames her now-deceased aunt for her father, Murtaza's killing, and also pins sundry other charges on her aunt's now silent shoulders, but those who are aware of or at least are clued into the goings-on in the 'land of the puree' should be aware of Mian Naraaz Sharif's role in that saga.

Do read the following if you want to know:

1. Al-Zulfikar: The unsaid history

2. Dad who would be king

(More later...)

Picture: Courtesy link.

The Blogging Affair by Manu

2011-12-02T16:17:00.003+05:30

Amitabh Manu is a first time author and his maiden offering is "The Blogging Affair". He however prefers to write under the name Manu and has carefully dropped Amitabh in the process. Perhaps he is no fan of millionaire-making game shows and/or big and small bees. So much for honey and money!

The Blogging Affair is a murder mystery but not in the classic 'thriller' or 'whodunit' format that we normally associate with this genre. It is also quite different from the well-received debut novel of Ismita Tandon Dhankher, titled, "Love on the Rocks". In fact, I don't recollect having come across anything like this from Indian authors past and present. And perhaps that is the reason why Amitabh had thanked me for sending him a friend request on FB (which he accepted of course); while stating at the same time that he hoped I would not change my mind after reading the book (along with a smiley).

I had gallantly (not sure if the female of the species are supposed to be gallant) assured him that though I hailed from Poschimbongo, I was very unlike Mamata didi - and suffixed it with a smiley as well, as a proof of my noble intentions.

Now, the book consists of only 339 pages; but it took me longer than usual to turn the last page. This is partly due to the fact that I was a bit pressed for time and partly due to the nature of the book.

A beautiful girl has been found dead in her bed and the cops have been alerted and they are on the job. So far so good, but there are multiple narratives vying for your attention: the inner voice (or whatever was left of it) of the guy Maithun Mehta - the prime suspect, coz he was in an extra-marital affair with the dead girl. Unfortunately he doesn't think with his gray cells, never did; his capabilities lie elsewhere, further down.

There is this game of one-upmanship between the police guys investigating the murder. Their hot and cold wars make for an interesting read, and is a classic case of brawn vs. brain. I somewhat liked this part; and there is a bit of humour too. The mystery bit though isn't deep but it does manage to hold your attention all the same, kind of. However, the bit about 'dreaming in colour' is totally clichéd and should have been avoided. Even if the author meant it to be funny or punny, it falls way short.

Next there is an anonymous blog - in reverse chronological order. The author's identity is hidden but the blog is suspected to be a vital clue as well as character, in this murder mystery.

Umm, we are not averse to feed our blog regularly or asking others (blogger friends) to feed theirs - so as to keep the blog healthy or well nourished and thereby ensuring a steady flow of traffic. However, the author has so overfed this anonymous blog, that a gift voucher from one of the ubiquitous weight-loss programmes wouldn't be a bad idea. It certainly resulted in reader fatigue. Reader meaning: yours truly.

The anonymous blogger's digressions into religion, homeopathy, education, politics, spiritual enlightenment, etc simply eat up space and bring down the pace to that of a snail. Not done. Amitabh may have wanted to share his point of views on these matters of national importance with his readers, but writing a whole book for that purpose was not necessary. He could have simply posted them on his personal blog!

Agreed they do give him precious opportunities to talk about eclectic issues, and get into saucy word plays and double entendres, supposedly to enliven the book, but the effect is quite the contrary. Maithun's inner voice with its one-track mind and too much sauciness affect you so much that you just want to stay away from 'sauce' for a while.

It becomes unfunny and unpunny after a point.

Had the plot, the storyline, the description, the execution or the writing style matched, the digressions would have been welcome; it would have been curd and rice. Then, chaat masala, pickle, pomegranate seeds, nuts and even dry fruits would have enhanced its taste.

"The Blogging Mystery" is a mix-and-unmatch. Just like curd and noodles.

Though the chapters are short, there are 69 of them, making it a nice thick book; but given that too many avoidable people this book, apart from some clunky writing, it requires a great deal of effort - to finish it.

While editing was hibernating big time, something I did not expect from Frog Books. There are so many errors - poor grammar, spelling, sentence structure, garbled lines, et al, that one would not dare think of gifting this to one's English teacher as a Christmas present.

My rating: I am going with a 2/5 for Amitabh Manu's debut novel. Despite this being the Xmas season and with New Year around the corner too, I am unable to imbibe the festive spirit and be more generous. Sorry.

With better editing and a tighter plot, apart from cutting out the ample dead wood, this one could have made for a good read, if not a great one. Though I must concede that (Amitabh) Manu is earnest, I feel he can do much better.

Details of Book: The Blogging Affair/ Author: Manu/ Pages: 339/ ISBN: 978-93-81115-39-8/ Publishing Date: 2011/ Publisher: Frog Books (an imprint of Leadstart Publishing Pvt. Ltd.)/ Binding: Paperback/ Price: Rs. 295/

Photograph: The book jacket cover of The Blogging Affair. Picture courtesy: link.

Methinks ... this one is Mushy-Immy-gate! (Part-II)

2011-11-29T14:55:00.003+05:30

Author's note: You can read the 1st part here.

Then reports emerged: of hush-hush meetings in the dead of the night - to save precious daylight and keep the environment green, obviously. Gen. Pesha is said to have had several meetings with Mr. Immy Khan in the presence of the US(eful) Ambassador to Pak - Mr. Cameron Muncher.

Thereafter, Mr. Immy Khan thundered at a huge rally, of about 50k people (suspected to be facilitated by you-know-which "angels"), but made to be over 1 lakh people (according to starry eyed and extremely generous estimates); but billed worldwide as equivalent to the 1986 homecoming rally of Benazir Bhutto ... attended by millions. This "equivalent to Benazir Bhutto's homecoming rally" has automatically "equaled" Mr. Immy Khan's "stature to that of Benazir Bhutto", according to several experts, analysts and mediawallahs, domestic and international, including the one possessing unimpeachable integrity, comrade Bariq Ali. And naturally, all this ... has undoubtedly underlined sealed and delivered Mr. Immy Khan's newfound "game changer" status.

Recently, another "game-changer" joined him - after losing his job to Birkin bagwati. But let me not digress.

So, unknown to others, Immy Khan's newfound "stature" has also bestowed him with immense psychic powers; therefore he was able to "foresee" or "gain knowledge" about this 'secret memo' and the "brain" behind it, even before anyone including the presswallahs got wind of it; rather even before it was revealed to the press! But mind you, nothing more should be read into his subsequent act of talking loudly about the 'memo' (to Gen. Mike Melon), and even naming the "writer" of the 'memo' - Mr. Hussain Luckyani, at his "huge" rally, that turned him into "the game changer". And the same psychic powers are responsible for his prior knowledge that "game changer II", the one elbowed out by Birkin bagwati, will join his party ... several days before the actual announcement. No daylight saving involved here, only pure unadulterated psychic powers, wokey?

Though coincidentally coincidental, recently there was news of Mushy visiting the US(eful) Department of State and hiring an expensive lobbyist in the US of A; to liaison with various power brokers and king makers. Perhaps he was getting bored of lecturing and dispensing pearls of wisdom, and wants to smoke cigars and show his fist instead; and therefore he once again wants to "save" his country.

Though the US(eful) Department of State denied the visit and called him a "private citizen", Mushy himself confirmed the bit about hiring a lobbyist.

Strangely, while Daring Thapar interviewed Immy Khan where he talked like the next PM of the 'land of the puree', Mushy was interviewed by Darling Dutt, herself of a certain "gate" fame; and here he indicated that he may return to his country earlier than 23rd march, 2012 - his stated timeline of return, to what else but "save" his beloved nation from "corrupt" politicians. He now talks about delivering himself as the New Year gift to his countrymen, since they are unable to buy any themselves due to inflation and noise pollution; so he will also bring along Chengiz Khan - in the form of a soft toy, according to some soothsayers.

Umm, Gen. Kayamat, Gen. Pesha and other domestic and international well wishers were instrumental in ensuring a "safe passage" along with a guard of honour for Mushy - and are seeing to his comforts and security too. They endorsed his views on: creating a mindset even before an investigation could begin along with "authentic" tapes, sunroof lever theory, disappearance of a certain dupatta, thorough cleansing of a certain vehicle, immediate hosing down of a certain site, that also washed away precious evidence, since "crows and vultures were circling overhead", uploading of dubious videos, plus much else. They have also seen to it that he remained untried.

So, they must have some "role" in mind for him still - they are yet to squeeze some more things out of him - willing and rootless that he is. It is easier to deal with someone like him than a popular leader and a popular party with deep roots among the people. But then, now the "popularity" bit is no problem at all - since Immy Khan with his "hugely attended rallies and popularity" (according to international polls) - will take care of that. After all, now he has a stature "equivalent to Benazir Bhutto"! So silly of me, how can I forget! [Note to self: I must stock up on Brainolia].

Btw, let me tell you, this "miracle" was not achieved in a day. No sir! It required a lot of "hard work". Books had to be written. Yes sir, books! Just as when the once "heroic and holy fighters" had to be given a complete makeover, books were the preferred way; including one penned by the author who shares one half of his name with our Bollywood shirtless thunder. There were/are others too: Bariq Ali, Patrick Frenchman, Billy D, an aged turbanator, and a famous niece, among others; books, op-ed pieces, columns, articles, commentaries, media appearances, the works ... have been taken care of.

Lets step back a bit.

Two and a half years ago a biography of Immy Khan appeared. Nothing wrong with its appearance; just that, wonder how many people would have been keen to read a book on Immy Khan of all people. Nevertheless it claimed of a "roaring affair" between Immy Khan and Benazir Bhutto during their student days at Oxford University. Even of a "close sexual relationship" for two months at least, and a supposed attempt by his mother to "arrange a marriage" between them - all this without a shred of evidence! But strangely, it was these very pieces that made it to every media and communication outlet all over the world.

Predictably, it fell flat, being the heights or lows (whichever you may call it) of purple journalism, with folks dismissing it as a cheap marketing ploy to market the new biography of Immy Khan.

Jemmy Khan would have been devastated though. Had the people, I mean readers and viewers fell for it, she would have played the "martyr" to the hilt, glycerin and all; not unlike her once best friend, a now deceased princess. Then she might have been dubbed as the "new princess you-know-who", a la how the now famous niece is being touted as "the new Daughter of the East".

A few months ago, another biography appeared, this time penned by an Indian author who writes under a phoren sounding pseudonym. In that Immy Khan "denied" rather "pooh poohed" suggestions of any "affair with Benazir". Again without a shred of evidence! Never mind who made that "suggestion" in the first place, but this bit too made it everywhere, around the world, yet again! Nobody believes it, but purpose is served, na? Public-city tau baj gai!

These were followed recently by Immy Khan's own official biography dubbed as a "personal history"; one that suspiciously appears to be a much laboured or contrived effort to somehow resemble or echo or be on the same lines as that of Benazir Bhutto's last book, titled: "Reconciliation".

Then since a documentary on Benazir's life took a bow at the prestigious Sundance Film Festival in 2010, and has since won some awards; can winter be far behind? And sure enough, a film on Immy Khan's life titled "Kaptaan(i)" is now under production. It explores the experiences of a man who dedicates his life to his country while also struggling with personal and spiritual anguish.

Hmm.

Immy Khan himself was of course reluctant at first and claimed that it was more important to focus on other aspects of the country, but the filmmaker's persistence finally paid off in ultimately convincing him, just like those biographers' enthusiasm had paid off earlier, wokey? Don't read too much into it.

All this while a now famous niece was/is busy buzzing all over the globe, wherever it matters that is, with her "must read" book.

And then ... along came the 'secret memo'.

Hmm. Hmm. Hmm.

She is quite a prolific parroter ... err... author. The famous niece, I tell you. Her next book is regarding a city that is solely responsible for British Telecom's profits in this part of the world. Anyone who is clued into the goings-on in the 'land of the puree' should be aware of/be able to guess the stuff that would be resting within its pages. And it would undoubtedly go on to become yet another "must read" book, no prizes for guessing.

Incidentally the folks whose talk time ensures British Telecom's profits are close to Mushy, having been infused with life (after being in danger of rigor mortis earlier), during his moderately enlightening reign, apart from community feeling. Umm, w.r.t the 'memo', a joint venture or a partial gurudakshina cannot be ruled out. Also Mushy wants to land in British Telecom land - when he arrives back to "save" the nation from "corrupt" rather "krupt politicians". And since the folks responsible for BT's profits ensure large gatherings periodically, where even crows and pigeons do not dare to "white wash", Mushy can assure himself of a grand reception minus any fireworks. Plus, Immy and BT talk-time-wallahs seem to be quite pally these days. So a multi-venture cannot be ruled out too.

Who are the puppeteers and who the puppets, it is not difficult to decipher. And once you connect the dots you will know who are working together for which common goal, which are the scriptwriters and who the choreographers of this magnum opus con. Frankly, now that that well-known-yet-trying-hard-to-be-latent pie-in-the-sky Ponzi scheme that walks on two legs and goes by the name of Immy Khan has been trotted out err... floated, it is not rocket science to figure out what that magnum opus con is too. I rest my case.

Btw, this Mushy-Immy team works perfectly. Mushy has the "expertise and experience" while Immy brings on the "popularity". Plus Mushy at 68 and Immy at 59 - not much of a generation gap there, but it is a nice insurance against any "natural calamities". What?

Note: It is being stated that Immy Khan has finally "arrived" after 16 years of "struggle" and being in the wilderness, since he did not "inherit a legacy like Benazir did". But why was he on every media parroting his pearls of wisdom against a certain personality in 1996 and 2007, then? Why were his words and views (along with a certain fiery niece's) give so much importance (by the analysts, think tanks, press and media; domestic and international) and touted all over, if he was someone in the wilderness then and has "arrived" only now? Good questions, no answer.

He made his due appearance in the "title role" during some events in 1999 and 2002. He is "active" at other times also, but usually in side roles: cameos and guest appearances. "Title roles" have been four in the past 16 years: 1996, 1999, 2002, 2007 and currently as well, so that makes it five; or four-and-a-half, perhaps. But what was the plan and what was achieved during those previous four starring roles ... take a closer look and you'll know.

Come to think of it, his casting in the "title role" of a "saviour" has happened twice before, apart from the current one, that is - in 1996 and 2007. Take a closer look and you'll know what his "role" required him to do then, what he did and what was the outcome.

Btw, in his 1996 "title role" - he blamed a certain lady for using mineral water for everything, while her husband fed his 40 horses with jam, jelly, marmalade, ice creams and milk shakes; while the poor people went to sleep empty stomach.

I kid you not!

My only regret is that: in all my life I am yet to see even a single horse that eats: jam, jelly, marmalade, ice creams and milk shakes. But let me not digress.

The media - domestic and international, immediately caught on and feverishly relayed those "gems", and in the process also turning Immy Khan into an "Oxford educated, legendary, handsome and dashing Pathan Prince". While the BeeBeeC ran a programme titled: "The Princess and the Playboy", directed at you-know-who.

So, while Immy Khan was a charismatic, charming lady-killer, a successful man-about-town, on whom women threw themselves and who made them swoon; the husband who apparently had horses feeding on jam, jelly, marmalade, ice creams and milk shakes was a "playboy" and "so-and-so's 'horse-mad' husband", without a shred of evidence, yet again.

And in 2002 when Mushy held yet another one of the 'land of the puree's' "free and fair elections", Immy Khan was allowed to participate, since he held a third class degree from Oxford University. While a certain lady who apparently used mineral water for everything and thus 'increased the gulf between the rich and the poor' was barred and declared a non-graduate, coz she possessed a first class degree from the same university! The domestic and international media, etc was quick to dub her as a "non-graduate" too.

I kid you not!

No wonder, the state of education in that sorry mess of a country is sooo brilliant. They think that a first class degree being only "1" is lesser than a third class degree since it is greater than "1". Coz: "1" then "2" and only then "3"!

And oh before I forget (since I have run out of Brainolia) - Mr. Immy Khan does not believe in Darwin's theory of evolution; coz he thinks that the one and only almighty - the one he shares a hot-line with - created two types of humans. One was 'Insaan' and the other 'Pathan'!

I kid you not!

(More later…)

Picture: Courtesy link.

Methinks ... this one is Mushy-Immy-gate! (Part-I)

2011-11-24T18:03:00.003+05:30

These are interesting times indeed ... and a time for building 'gates'.

Let me clarify before you ask; that Bill Gates has absolutely nothing to do with these.

So, while India has successfully come up with several engineering marvels like: Chara-gate, CWG-gate, 2G-gate, IPL-gate, Radia-gate, Barkha-gate, Sanghvi-gate, and the like; our estranged western neighbour has now come up with a stinking gate - "Memogate"; styled after the original "Watergate", that nixed President Nixon.

What is this Memogate, you ask? Well, it is apparently a "memo" - the news of which a smarmy businessman-cum-lobbyist of Pak origin, a citizen of America and living in the US of A, has circulated via foreign press (especially the "Financially Yours Times") and media, that in May 2011, the (now former) Pak Ambassador to US - the foxy Hussain Luckyani - had apparently sent to the President of the US of A - Barrack-ed Obama - on behalf of the Pak President - the smiling Hatim Tai Zardari, via Admiral Mike Melon - the now retired Joint Chiefs of staff (US), who was then very much in action; via an intermediary, the former US National Security Advisor - James 'Bond' Bones, through the smarmy businessman of Pak origin, Mansoor Ijaz-zat.

Phew!

Bhool Bhulaiya of a different kind, right? But this one is/was not 'made in Bollywood'; so read on.

According to the swarmy businessman-cum-lobbyist a paranoid Zardari - "too scared" after the big "O" was "taken out" unilaterally, by US Navy seals, in the 'land of the pure' - "feared a military coup and wanted a US hand on Gen. A. Parvez Kayamat's desk."

Zardari apparently even agreed to come up with a "new security team" that would co-operate more closely with the US led 'war on terror' on Pak soil and was also "ready to hand over 26/11 culprits to India."

Hmm.

That the holiest of holy cows in the 'land of the pure' - the ones that wear shining boots - were the ones under tremendous pressure from the public after the big "O" episode, so much so that even rickshaws there displayed slogans like, "Horn aista bajaye, army so rahey hain"; was conveniently side-stepped. [Note: Horn aista bajaye, army so rahey hain translated: Please blow the horn softly, the army is asleep.]

Now why was the big "O" not made a spectacle of - a la Saddam-ed Hussein and Muahmuah Gaddafi - and his 'body' dumped into the waters of the Arabian Sea instead, is a trillion dollar question.

We were shown the picture of a corpse of course (along with must chest thumping), but whether it was a dated one or that of a 'frozen' body, we cannot be sure.

We later saw the pictures of a smiling Obama, showing all his pearly whites, onboard the ship or submarine or aircraft or whatever those said Navy seals supposedly traveled in to "take out" the big "O".

But before I proceed, I would like you to read this and this.

The latter clearly states that: "There has been little out of Washington DC since the "world domination" cabal, PNAC (Project for a New American Century) or the Brzezinski "World Chessboard" counterparts outlined the need for a "Pearl Harbour scale" event with a "cardboard cutout" boogeyman to act as backdrop for re-engineering the face of the planet. After the "event," we would see the seizure of Central Asia's hydrocarbon resources, the collapse of the world's monetary systems and a political upheaval to spread across the world that would leave every political institution in every country vulnerable to the dictates of an unseen "globalist" hand.

Is there any surprise that the "reported" killing of Osama bin Laden has not been accepted in the United States as more than "ho hum" news?"

... And what do we see around us?

A while back, another person had stated that the real powers in cowboy country want to "take out" seven Muslim nations: Iraq, Egypt, Libya, Lebanon (or is it Yemen [?]; pardon me, I forget), Syria, Iran and Pakistan. Jingoistic cowboy media predictably promptly drummed out his voice; but what do we see around us?

Some have already been "taken", and the recent surge in rhetoric over Iran's nuclear ambitions combined with a concerted effort to dislodge the Assad regime in Syria, give us hummus for thought. Strangely, even the Russian strongman, Putin, was recently roundly jeered during a sporting event that he was attending - in Russia! And there are routine talks of a "Jasmine revolution" engulfing China with its "fragrance" sooner rather than later.

We in India should and must be concerned. If there is trouble in our neighbourhood, if our neighbourhood is burning, we too cannot escape the heat first and then the fire.

For years we were shown long distance shots of a man sitting on a rocky dry terrain; or the back of a man draped in heavy shawls or blankets, apart from cassettes that seemed to appear at periodic intervals, of course. We were told that the man was the big "O" and that those cassettes were from him too - by you-know-who.

That brings me to an interview given by the assassinated Benazir Bhutto to Sir David Frosty on "Frosty over the World" in Nov. 2007. There she had categorically stated that she knew for a certainty that the big "O" had already been "taken out", and that she knew the identity of the person who had done the job too.

This was thunderclap, wasn't it? But Sir David did not miss a beat and quickly moved on to other "more interesting" topics. Recently when the BeeBeeC aired the said interview, it was minus the "offending" bit - that part had been neatly edited out!

Lets get back to the 'memo' then.

Now, Mike Melon, the good gent that he is, denied the existence of such a 'memo' and stated that he had no recollection of ever receiving it.

The Pak presidency as well as the (now former) Pak Ambassador to the US too denied having anything to do with the offending 'memo'.

This prompted Mr. Ijaz-zat to quote a classic dialogue of the big-screen character of Gordon Gekko - the main antagonist of the 1987 film "Wall Street" and the antihero of the 2010 "Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps": "If you stop telling lies about me, I might just stop telling the truth about you".

Thereafter, Mike Melon through a spokesman "clarified" and owned up to the existence of such a 'memo'. Apparently, he went back and searched through piles of files and reams of paper and found a copy. We were also helpfully told that earlier - on receiving it that is, he had dismissed it as not credible and took no action.

Wow!

The 'masala' or 'formula' has an unmistakable smell rather flavour on them. This one got to be a joint production of 'Hollywood' and 'Lollywood' - also the name that the film industry in the 'land of the pure' goes by. But those who are discerning and can read between the lines will know what I mean.

Now, why would Zardari of all people even dream of sending such a boomerang-style memo to Mike Melon - who is a "close buddy" of Gen. Kayamat and his friends, past and present, and who was also instrumental in getting the thorough professional and a soldiers soldier - the chain smoking Gen. Kayamat himself, a three year extension (beginning Oct-Nov 2010) - thus ensuring that the next election would be held under him and not the sitting President?

Plus it is common knowledge-cum open secret that the pure and green generals in the 'land of the pure' and their cronies only act after a green signal from you-know-where.

And why send such an aa-bail-mujhe-maar-worded 'memo'? That too through the discredited Mansoor Ijaz-zat, who had claimed prior to the Iraq War ... about the existence of weapons of mass destruction (WMDs) in the then Saddam-ed Iraq, and also talked about ties between Saddam-ed Hussein and Ally Qaeda; that had led the-you-know-which forces to invade that oil-rich nation!

Mr. Ijaz-zat commented on the big "O" and Nuclear Proliferation; would articulate opinions in support of the Am-Bush-ed White House (that considered Mushy to be a "tight buddy"), and neo-conservative foreign policy. He was a Fox(ed you) News Analyst and played a popular role on (Es)Special Report; he was the most popular guest on the show and appeared on Fox(ed you) on more than 100 occasions.

Now, media mogul Rupee Murdoch owns Fox(ed you), one of the pioneers of unethical and illegal news-gathering practices, as demonstrated by the recent phone hacking scandal. It has been also found that private data of Pak President Hatim Tai Zardari had also been targeted by some private investigators hired by 'The Sunday Times', a newspaper owned by Rupee Murdoch.

Apparently the ISI-certified chief, Gen. Pesha - who too is on an extended extension, courtesy you-know-who - had flown halfway around the world to hold a secret meeting with Mansoor Ijaz-zat, without the knowledge of the supreme commander of Pakistan's armed forces (President Hatim Tai Zardari himself).

Gen. Pesha "authenticated" the evidence produced by Mr. Ijaz-zat; coz the former had apparently carried a forensic lab in his hip pocket and was thus able to "forensically test" Mr. Ijaz-zat's blackberry ... or blueberry, whatever it maybe; but grapes it is definitely not. Actually, Gen. Pesha was only testing or conducting his pesha on Hatim Tai.

In India, we are well aware of the state of our investigative agencies, and know fully well the outcome, if they were to ever behave (or test or try to conduct their pesha) in this manner. They are not ISI-certified but more into Quality control via IP rights, copyright, trademark and Agmark certification. But then India is a different country, and thank god for that!

But by now, we also know of: Vajpayee's 'bitter lesson' on Kashmir with Mansoor Ijaz-zat.

Hmm. Hmm.

(More later...)

Picture: Courtesy link. Suits, no?

Prey By The Ganges by Hemant Kumar

2011-11-16T16:03:00.004+05:30

A fairly taut and gripping tale, Prey By The Ganges does manage to hold your interest until the very end.

Debutant author Hemant Kumar has impressed with his maiden offering and will certainly be someone to watch out for in the future.

The book jacket cover instantly grabs your attention; you want to read it, and once you start ... you cannot really put it down until the last page has been turned.

The book feels good to hold and I don't really recollect any editing errors; so if at all there were any, they must have been really negligible. And that certainly added to the reading pleasure.

Though the book cover does give away some clues about the story resting within its pages, it still manages to withhold most of it.

The storyline: Set in 1948, deep in the heart of eastern India, this is a story of fate, of fortune, of friendship, of rage and resistance, of indefatigable courage and steadfastness; and of relationship in all its myriad shades.

Stories of women and some men - reaching across great divides - in one of the most treacherous terrains on earth where turmoil reigns and violence against women is unchecked.

I won't exactly call this one a "slice of life," but one that borrows copiously from it; it is an intense tale woven with poverty, abuse, lies, trickery, and mayhem ... but is ultimately a tale of survival.

It is full of everything; lust, sex, horror, grief, etc. are all in abundance on the grounds surrounding the mighty and holy Ganges River, whose waters bring salvation from the cycle of rebirth, and who mutely witnesses it all. Or does she? Can the river - Ma Ganga - heal the healer?

The plot: Two feuding brothers - both young and handsome Thakurs - each with a personal army; they are fighting an endless battle of wits, guns ... and lives. Who wins?

An idealistic young man, son of a traditional bonesetter, picks up the paintbrush instead and goes to live in the mountains, shunning his destiny as a "vaidya". Why does he want a priceless diamond then?

A son of a jeweler, fate makes him a "vaidya". But why is he after the diamond too?

What makes him, a non-violent, unarmed man, handsome and in the prime of his youth, risk his all to douse the anger in his heart?

... And in the process - his journey - does he discover much more? Much that words cannot express, much - that is coveted by all; much that is so invaluable that even a rare priceless diamond pales into valuelessness in front of it?

Prey By The Ganges is the story of one violent night across the Ganges. A cold, rainy night in a forest across the Ganges to be precise - it is the setting for a grisly, soul-shattering bludgeoning; one that elicits a stirring vow from a friend who is more than a brother, a desperate cat and mouse chase and much more. This is also where a young man lies in a ditch, in excruciating pain and bleeding heavily, with a knife through his stomach. Will he die?

Well, don't expect me to play the spoiler. I will not reveal any more than I have already done. So if you want to know more, get hold of the book and read all you can.

The decadent and perilous world of the powerful lords of the land, the dangerous secrets they protect, the liberties they don't hesitate to exploit, are laid bare before our eyes.

Hemant has an eye for detail. Every encounter, every twist and turn, the dialogues, the setting, is reasonably well done.

And even the names - Thakur Gajanan Singh and Thakur Suraj Singh, Thakurain Leelavati and Thakurain Rajni; Gajanan's underlings - Ashok for the slightly respectable one, since he is somewhat of a majordomo; and Baabu, Laalten, Kariya and Bhondu - for his henchmen. Etwari - for the child-woman that Thakur Gajanan ravishes at will; Bahuteri for her mother. Shambhu, the Vaidya and Ravi, the painter. Dhibri - the man who burns corpses, and Hariya - the old ranch hand with angry welts across his body and soul.

Each is a pawn in this bizarre game of life and death, and each with a story to tell. Or hide.

The two characters that stand out are those of Thakur Gajanan Singh and Vaidya Shambhu Nandan. And despite everything, Hemant has somehow managed to de-evilize Gajanan, if I can say that; not unlike what Vikramaditya Motwane did to Ronit Roy's character in Udaan.

There is a sneak peek about corruption and patronage, of monopolies and cronyism, about the rakshak and the bhakshak; and what "independence" did to these monsters. How much has changed, if at all? Has anything changed really?

Hemant has been able to weave what is essentially a violent, rustic and evocative tale with polish and substance.

The limpid writing style blending violence and fear, quiet strength and raw courage, searing hatred and calm compassion, white-hot passion and serene romance, plus much else, in a neat package, is a readers delight. It pulls you into the narrative and keeps you there.

However, one is also left to ponder over whether being armed with moral courage, fearlessness, honesty, sensitivity and all that jazz, mean anything at all, against firearms and weapons.

Time to put on your thinking cap and stop those gray cells from graying.

The author had mentioned during our correspondence that he has written his debut novel with heart, and after having read it; I cannot but agree on that one.

My two pence: The opening chapter is very well done, quite fresh and riveting. But somewhere down the line, some events and characters get too predictable and over done; and that interferes with the taste - slowing down the pace apart from eating up space. While the unmistakable Bollywood flavour leaves the fiction loving epicurean in me less than completely satiated.

Instead of some of the stuff that needlessly drags on, I would have liked to know a bit more about what happened to Etwari between her first 'encounter' with Thakur Gajanan Singh in his inner chambers, and her arrival at the shed - to her parents. I would have liked to be a part of her transformation, her inner journey. That would have been interesting and insightful too ... especially from someone so young, given her history and background.

... And I was and am curious to know what happened to Somwari? I feel her character should have been a little more fleshed out. After all, she made a young man with a promising future leave his world behind, and it is she who is there in the final page too!

Hariya's faith and belief in Rajni, that she would have somehow saved Etwari ... had the latter's father appealed to her instead of meeting the Thakur. Why and how?

Shambhu is too pristine and too 'white' for my taste; a dash of colour and a hint of naughtiness or rakish charm would have settled well on him.

The two main characters in this novel need not have mirrored the popular perception of the two main characters from one of our great epics.

Come to think of it, Gajanan does remind me of the handsome, swashbuckling and horse-riding villain, the devilish Mayurbahon, from one of ace director Tapan Sinha's master creations; his adaptation of Anthony Hope's "The Prisoner of Zenda." Based on a story by Saradindu Bandopadhyay, the creator of Byomkesh Bakshi, "Jhinder Bondi" (1961) was a roaring success. And the young Soumitra Chatterjee as the handsome and dashing Mayurbahon, managed to overshadow the matinee idol of Bangla cinema, Mohanayok Uttam Kumar himself.

So while Shambhu does have traces of the noble-hearted Shonkar Sen - essayed by Uttam Kumar, Prey By The Ganges too reminds me of Jhinder Bondi in bits and pieces.

There is also one or two other minor inconsistencies that could have been easily pruned out, not that they interfere or take away from the narrative.

That brings me to the book cover - it is all-good, very good in fact, but somehow the bare-backed woman does not seem to belong there.

My rating: I am going with a 3.5/5 for Hemant Kumar's debut novel.

Prey By The Ganges is a compelling read; it will appeal to a wide variety of readers. For fans of good fiction - this is one book you'll love to sink your teeth into; that the taste and flavour is slightly different, should add to the appeal.

I look forward to Hemant's future writings with interest.

Parting shot: With an eclectic cast comprising of interesting and solid actors, under the baton of a competent director, I see Prey By The Ganges as having a lot of potential for the big screen, with some tweaks of course.

It could fit snugly into the genre of films classified as 'low-budget movies,' several of which have hit the marquee lately. And I somehow feel that Vikramaditya Motwane would be perfect to helm this one too.

Details of the book: Prey By The Ganges/ Author: Hemant Kumar/ Publisher: Chlorophyll (an imprint of Wisdom Tree)/ Publishing Date: 2011/ ISBN-10: 8183281869/ ISBN-13: 9788183281867, 978-8183281867/ Pages: 382/ Price: Rs.295 (Rs.221 @ Flipkart.)

Picture: The book jacket cover of Prey By The Ganges. Picture courtesy: link.

7 Secrets of Vishnu by Devdutt Pattanaik

2011-11-08T15:14:00.006+05:30

Well, to begin with, I am happy to be among the chosen ten to review the latest book by Dr. Devdutt Pattanaik. So, thank you BlogAdda!

For those who haven't heard of Dr. Devdutt Pattanaik, he is India's renowned mythologist and has penned several books, like: Myth = Mithya, The Pregnant King, Jaya - An Illustrated Retelling of the Mahabharata, 7 Secrets of Shiva, 7 Secrets from Hindu Calendar Art, among others. Actually he wears many hats - that of author, speaker, illustrator and mythologist - and is a medical doctor by training, a marketing manager by profession and a mythologist by passion.

7 Secrets of Vishnu attempts to unravel the mysteries and secrets of Shri Vishnu - one of the Hindu Trinity (trimurti) who is essentially known to be the preserver, the balancer or the sustainer.

I have not read any of the author's previous books and therefore I went about reading this one with a clean slate - unaware of how much about Shri Vishnu he has already revealed, rather explained in his earlier books.

Book Summary of 7 Secrets Of Vishnu: It is significant that the stories of Vishnu rose to prominence after the rise of Buddhism. Prior to that, Hinduism was the religion of the elite-based complex rituals known as yagna and esoteric speculations captured in texts known as the Aranyakas and the Upanishads. These seemed very distant to the common man who focused on fertility rituals, worship of plants and animals and nature.

To help readers unravel the secrets of Vishnu, the chapters have been arranged as below:

* The first chapter focuses on how gender is used to explain fundamental metaphysical concepts integral to Hinduism.
* The second chapter discusses the difference between man and animal.
* The third and fourth chapters focus on the Devas and the Asuras, both of whom are unhappy, as one struggles with insecurity and the other with Ambition.

The fifth and sixth chapters revolve around the Ramayana and Mahabharata, as man struggles with his humanity.

The seventh chapter is about the wisdom of letting go, with faith in renewal.

Frankly, this is not a quick, breezy read that one can curl up with and read for fun or entertainment purposes. Do not expect to skim through the book coz this is no cursory read. It demands your full attention and is worth every bit of it. One needs to pay attention, visualize as well as exercise one's gray cells - simultaneously - in order to fully grasp what the author has tried to convey.

Devdutt has tried to explain several things; words, events and aspects that we may be quite familiar with, yet may not be aware of or understand very well or perhaps are unaware of their full significance. These are: Vishnu, Brahma, Prakriti, Purusha, Brahmanda, Maya, Maha-Maya, Yoga-Maya, Yoga-nidra, Atma, Paramatma, jiva-atma, Narad Muni and his nature (which is akin to that of a gossipmonger or that of any popular tabloid, I dare say), Shiva, Mohini, Lakshmi, Panchajana, Pralaya, Garuda, Matsya, Kurma, Varaha, Adi-Ananta-Sesha, Balarama, Varna-dharma, Shri Ram, Shri Krishna, Hanuman, Kalki, pravritti-marga, nivritti-marga, Buddha-avatar, various symbols, Vadavagni, Hayagriva and much more.

He also explains various mythological stories that we have heard sitting on our grandparents' lap or courtesy Uncle Pai and his Amar Chitra Katha: Rishi Durvasa and Indra, Samudramanthan, Devas, Ashuras, Nagas, Prahalad and Holika, Hiranayaksha and Hiranakashipu, Krishna-Yashoda, Ramayan, Mahabharat, Yayati, the killing of Kamsa, other stories, symbols, rituals and the like.

The book perhaps consciously uses black and white renditions of stone, brass and wood carving, temple art and wall sculpture, painting including miniature painting, mural, calendar art and clay dolls, so as not to distract the reader from what is being conveyed through the text.

The book also feels good to hold and the cover art is very attractive. Hindu households often have calendars with images of their favorite gods and goddesses. And so does temples with their intricately carved walls and painted ceilings and murals. But what do these images signify? Only a handful take a keen interest and stop by to have a closer look and are perhaps aware of their significance ... to an extent, that is. Most "see" them but do not "notice," let alone think; busy as they are posing and clicking pictures or elbowing out others to have a better "view" of god. Hindu mythology is as vivid as it gets, and the more you read about it the more intrigued you are. 7 Secrets of Vishnu employs art as a metaphor to unravel several myths and interesting tales from that treasure-trove.

I must say that the author is very crisp, precise, informative and imaginative in his narration. The book makes for a very interesting read indeed. But do I agree? Well, I would like to reserve my opinion on that one.

I will not reveal the author's thoughts and explanations in detail and play the spoiler. That is something I will not do. So if you want to know more, go ahead, get hold of this book and read all you can!

And here's my two pence: As we all know ... a weak spine cannot support a strong and righteous mind. So, whether Buddhism and its (excessive?) message of peace and renunciation weakened our spines and left us vulnerable to all sorts of marauding hordes from the east and the west is for us to ponder and wonder.

The day we can answer that one, we will be back on track.

One cannot renounce (tyag) anything unless and until one has experienced it (bhog).

Hinduism on the other hand has space for both - the active and the renouncer.

The verse "gnanayogena saankhyaanaam, karmayogena yoginaam" comes before "Karmanye Vadhikaraste Ma Phaleshu Kadachana, Ma Karma Phala Hetur Bhurmatey Sangostva Akarmani" in the Srimad Bhagavat Gita - universally renowned as the jewel of India's spiritual wisdom.

It means, "People who already have a meditative bent of mind can take up renunciation, while the rest of the folks (including Arjun) who are yet to have that mind set are better off taking to an active lifestyle."

"Dvividha nishtha" or the 2-fold path is not exclusive of "Karm Yog" - the art and science of achieving perfection in action.

People who already have a meditative bent of mind can take up renunciation – that is their Karm Yog.

While the rest of the folks (including Arjun) who are yet to have that mind set are better off taking to an active lifestyle – that is their Karm Yog.

Hinduism - was never envisaged as a 'religion' as we understand today. It was an accumulation of the wisdom of the ancients over the ages. This faith was a 'way of life' and the stress was on 'dharm' meaning 'the path of righteousness and doing one's duty no matter what obstacles appear'. Today 'dharm' has become 'dharma' and is automatically taken to mean 'religion'.

The word 'religion' never existed in this ancient Vedic faith, called "Sanatan Dharm". 'Sanatan' means 'ancient' and 'Dharm,' refers to 'righteousness'. 'Dharm' did not mean 'religion' as we think or know it today. It was given the colour of religion by later day interpreters who either misunderstood the words/phrases or did not have adequate phonetics/words/vocabulary in their language. Or maybe willfully misinterpreted it.

I think the ancient Persians called the people living east of the Indus River (Sindhu Nad) as "Hindu" since they could not pronounce the Sanskrit "Sindhu" in their language. Then came the Greeks (especially Alexander the Great) who too could not pronounce "Sindhu" in their language, and so called them "Hindu" instead. That is how the people of this land began to be known as "Hindu".

Something akin to 'Shammi Kapoor' becoming 'Shami Kaboor' in Iraq, 'people' becoming 'beoble' in Egypt and 'Kapaleshwar' becoming 'Kabaleshwar' in Tamil.

Hinduism is not a religion such as Christianity or Islam since the particular 'ism' did not have a single founder nor is it a cult movement to unite people under a single founder.

The people of India/Bharatvarsh or the so-called "Hindus" followed a pattern of life that was unique. They believed in a Single Supreme being in whom all the Power and Energy of the Universe resides and also from which it emanates much like the source of a river.

They believed that this Power and Energy could be broadly branched: Brahma - the Creator, Vishnu - the Preserver and Shiv - the Destroyer.

This region - large parts of India and places as far west and north as modern-day Afghanistan and Xinjiang, had become entirely Buddhist. By the sixth century or so this Buddhism had also become adulterated with diverse forms of animism, occult practices, promiscuity, and the like, something in the nature of what is known in Hinduism as "vamachara" and had degenerated into a loose faith. The great Sankaracharya (Sri Adi Shankaracharya) set out on foot from faraway Kerala to set right this state of affairs and in a short life of only 32 years got the country firmly back into the Hindu fold. It is possible that the great Acharya could not reach the eastern parts of pre-independence Bengal because of the relative inaccessibility of the delta. In fact the delta of Eastern Bengal (now Bangladesh) is known in legend as "Pandava Varjita Desha" - the land that even the Pandavas avoided. The population here therefore remained Buddhist-Animist, and easily converted to Islam when the marauders from the west came to Bengal. Extensive ruins of Buddhist monasteries are found at Paharpur and Mahasthangarh in the northern parts of present-day Bangladesh. The Buddhist teacher and pandit - Dipankar Srigyan (Atiśa Dipankara, Shrijnana) had set out from a village called Bajrajogini (in Bikram Pur) near Dhaka to convert the whole of Tibet to Buddhism.

The ancient Tibetans were fierce warriors and were widely known for their skillful horsemanship. What Buddhism has done to Tibet and Tibetans - we are all well aware of.

Till today (or at least until recently) Hindu Bengalis, when they choose to be err ... abusive, refer to Muslims by the term "Neray" (with a stress on the letter "r"; it is a diminutive of "Nyaraa," meaning shaven-headed.) And a lot of Bengali Muslims do tonsure their heads - believed to be a custom inherited by them from the Buddhist viharas (monasteries) that their ancestors attended. All these bear eloquent testimony to the hold of Buddhism in erstwhile East Bengal.

My two pence but I digress.

My rating: Do I agree with the author's thoughts and interpretations? Well, like I have already stated above, I would like to reserve my opinion on that one.

But is the book informative? Yes, it is. Interesting? Yes. It also holds your attention, makes you think and of course provides a different perspective on the stories, symbols, rituals and aspects that have been our staple diet for generations but of which there perhaps cannot be a single answer or interpretation.

I am going with a 4/5 for Devdutt Pattanaik's latest offering.

Details of the book: 7 Secrets of Vishnu/ Author: Devdutt Pattanaik/ Publisher: Westland/ Edition: 2011/ Language: English/ ISBN: 9380658681/ ISBN-13: 9789380658681, 978-9380658681/ Bookbinding: Paperback/ Price: Rs. 250 (Rs. 163 on Flipkart)/ No. of pages: 219.

Photograph: The cover art of '7 Secrets of Vishnu'. Picture courtesy: link.

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

What devoured glamorous Pakistan?

2011-11-04T14:27:00.006+05:30

Author's note: I chanced upon this article while trawling the net. And though the author - Vir Sanghvi - as we now know is a direct descendent of Raja Harishchandra [*wink wink*] it made for an interesting read nevertheless. So, read on folks!

I wrote, a few weeks ago, about how much the attitude to Indians had changed in the West. Once we were regarded as losers, people who inhabited a desperately poor country, continually ravaged by famine or drought, incapable of making a single world-class product, and condemned to live forever on foreign aid. Now, we have the world's respect and, more tellingly, the West's envy as more and more jobs are Bangalored away from their high-cost economies and handed over to Indians who perform much better for less money.

That piece was prompted by a visit to London. This one too has been inspired by a trip abroad and by saturation coverage of the Pakistani cricket scandal in the press and on global TV channels. But my concern this week is not with how the West sees India.

It is with the transformation of the image of the global Pakistani.

I was at school and university in England in the Seventies and lived in London in the early 1980s. This was a time when Pakistan was regarded - hard as this may to believe now - as being impossibly glamorous. The star of my first term at Oxford was Benazir Bhutto. In my second term, she became president of the union and was the toast of Oxford. Her father was then prime minister of Pakistan and lucky students vied for the opportunity to visit Karachi or Islamabad as guests of the Bhuttos. They came back with stories of unbelievable hospitality and spoke knowledgeably about Pakistan's feudal structure, about landowners like the Bhuttos, about an autocracy that had reigned for centuries etc.

Even on the other side of the ideological divide, Pakistan was all too visible. He had come down from Oxford nearly eight years before, but a former president of the union, the charismatic Trotskyite Tariq Ali was still the sort of chap who made English girls swoon. For her first debate as president of the Oxford Union, Benazir asked Tariq Ali to speak. He agreed but then, rather inconveniently, he was detained by the police on a visit to Pakistan. No matter. He phoned Benazir who spoke to daddy and - hey presto! - Tariq was out of jail and on a plane to England. Pakistan was that kind of country, the British chortled delightedly.

In those days, us poor Indians hardly ever got a look in. The Pakistanis were dashing, far richer (they spent in a week what we spent in the whole term), always going off to chic parties or nightclubs in London and charming the pants off the British (often, quite literally).

In that era, the Arabs had just emerged on the world stage (following the massive oil-price hikes of 1973/4) and the Pakistanis were almost proprietorial about them. A Pakistani graduate student at my college, even affected Arab dress from time to time and bragged that he had taught Arabs how to fly planes.

My college-mate was merely reprising Z A Bhutto's philosophy: the Arabs were rich but they were camel drivers. They needed Pakistanis to run the world for them and to teach them Western ways. It was this sort of thinking that led to the creation of the Bank of Credit and Commerce International (BCCI), the first global Third World bank, run by Pakistanis with Arab money. For most of the 1980s, BCCI was staffed by sharply dressed young Pakistanis who entertained at London (and New York's) best restaurants, hit the casinos after dinner and talked casually about multi-million dollar deals.

Their flamboyant lifestyle was matched by other rich Pakistanis. In his autobiography, Marco Pierre White, the first of the British super-chefs (he was the original bad boy and Gordon Ramsay worked for him), talks about the Pakistanis who were his first regulars. Michel Roux, then England's top chef (three Michelin stars) would fly out to Pakistan to cook at private parties thrown by wealthy individuals. In the late 1980s, a friend of mine went to dinner in Pakistan and was startled to be asked to guess the vintages of three different bottles of Mouton Rothschild, one of the world's most expensive wines.

In that era, Indians knew absolutely nothing about wine or French food and the few Indian millionaires who vacationed in London were vegetarians.

Pakistanis were sex symbols too. The first international cricketing stud was Imran Khan (who finished at Oxford the term before I got there) and his sex appeal was so legendary that even Benazir joked about it. Told that Gen Zia-ul-Haq called him the "Lion of the Punjab," Benazir said, "Yes but Zia pronounces 'Lion' as 'Loin' and this is appropriate." Years later when Imran spoke about his love for Pakistan, a British columnist sneered, "His heart may be in Pakistan but his loins are in the King's Road" referring to a trendy (and expensive) London area.

Even Pakistan's millionaires were more glamorous than ours. In the Eighties when the Hinduja brothers ("we are strictly vegetarian") first emerged in London, the Pakistanis stole the show with such flamboyant high-profile millionaires in Mahmud Sipra who financed feature films and kept a big yacht in the South of France.

So what went wrong?

It's hard to pin point any single reason but I can think of several contributing factors.

First of all, much of the Pakistani profile was based on flash and fraud. BCCI collapsed amidst allegations that it was a scamster's bank. Mahmud Sipra left England with the Fraud Squad in hot pursuit even as he declared his innocence from beyond Scotland Yard's jurisdiction. Many big-spending Paksitanis turned out to be heroin smugglers.

Secondly, Indian democracy came to our rescue. The Brits who bragged about Bhutto hospitality and the Pakistan aristocracy missed the obvious point: this was a deeply unequal and therefore unstable society. When Bhutto rigged an election, this led to his downfall.

Thirdly, Pakistan signed its own death warrant by trying to out-Arab the Arabs with a policy of Islamisation. This reached its peak under General Zia who declared a jihad against the Russians in Afghanistan and invited Arabs such as Osama bin Laden to come to Pakistan to fight the holy war. Ultimately, fundamentalist Islam devoured what was left of glamorous Pakistan.

Fourthly, the world just moved on. Flash can only get you so far. In the end it is substance that counts. And plodding, boring India came up with the substance.

It is hard to think, when you look at today's Pakistan team, that Pakistani cricketers were such sex symbols in India in the 1980s that Imran Khan was able to brag to an interviewer "Indian actresses are chickens. They just want to get laid" (In all fairness, Imran later said he had been misquoted.)

Get laid by today's team? You must be joking.

Even the Pakistani playboys who are still around no longer seem exciting or glamorous. Poor Imran just looks tired. And the rest look like Asif Zardari - pretty much the archetypal glamorous Pakistani of the Eighties - though perhaps not as disgustingly sleazy.

Of all these factors, two remain the most important. A nation created on the basis of Islam was destroyed by too much Islam. And a nation dedicated to democracy flourished because of too much democracy.

Photograph: Courtesy link.

If I Pretend I Am Sorry! Will You Pretend And Forgive Me? by Prashant Sharma

2011-10-24T13:06:00.003+05:30

Note: Writing a review with numerous bhakti songs (read: Kannada and Tamil matinee songs) - courtesy an extended Ganesh Chaturthi - playing in the background is truly a Herculean task. But I somehow managed to pull it off *patting myself on the back*

If I Pretend I Am Sorry! Will You Pretend And Forgive Me? is the second offering from Prashant Sharma, after his Love, Life & a Beer Can!

It is a curious title for a novel, but then there is nothing like a curious title to pique the readers' interest. What?

No, it is not a mushy romance or a classroom/college caper ... but a thriller set in Mumbai. Most unexpected, isn't it?

To cut to the chase, it is the saga of three men - Rajvir Singh, Rannvijay Singh and Viraj Singh. Though seemingly belonging to different worlds, their paths intersect and their lives are interconnected in a manner that is unknown even to them.

Book blurb: "I was sitting in a room with four of the most dangerous men in Mumbai. All four had a gun in their hands. I had single malt in mine. And I was the one who was going to dictate the terms." Rajvir Singh

"That day, I understood the importance of money. That day, I got a new reason to live. That day, I knew what I had to do in life and for what. I had to kill, and I had to kill for money." Rannvijay Singh

"I felt relieved, I felt scared, I felt guilty. I had finally made the deal. I had paid for my first murder." Viraj Singh

The story or rather the journey of the three men are narrated separately, all in the first person - starting with Rannvijay Singh, then moving on to Rajvir Singh and finally getting to Viraj Singh - till their paths cross, that is.

Result: a thrilling climax.

There are many events and characters peppering the book that may leave you wondering as to how the author was going to conclude the tale. Or what the three men would do ultimately, or what was the purpose of a particular event, and so on and so forth. Yet towards the end they all converge and all the loose ends get tied up neatly. You get to see the links clearly and all the cobwebs are removed quite nicely.

The language is simple and not flowery or bombastic, the pace brisk and the setting with a distinct 1970's feel about it. The Mumbai (which was then Bombay) of the seventies with its warts and all - the underworld, the murders, the kidnappings, supari and ransom, the gang wars, smuggling, drug dealing, the police, protection money, big business, the parties, the roads, the cars, the ocean, et al. Mumbai truly is a city of constant contradictions ... and so was Bombay.

Certain events in the book will ring a bell with the reader: the rich and famous with their own insecurities, protection money paid by business magnates, the unification of four feuding dons, someone trying to become the undisputed King of Mumbai and not even hesitating to eliminate his own boss. Shades of Haji Mastan in Rajvir Singh and that of 'D' in Rannvijay Singh are unmistakable. Frankly, the ruthless world of business - whether above or under the ground - are no different from each other, really!

[Note: The storyline is nothing like Once Upon A Time In Mumbaai]

Make sure you play out the scenes in your head, at least some of them, while your eyes do the reading. That'll ensure a total filmy experience.

Suggestions: Prashant has tried to add various shades to the three characters in order to make them more interesting ... and I must say that he has succeeded to an extent. However the twists, the turns and the surprise elements needed to be a little more cerebral and fresh - to dispel the feeling of déjà vu. Also the shock factor is missing and certain events and encounters are underdone. A bit about the transformation of the city from Bombay to Mumbai would have been nice.

Also I feel that the titles of the chapters (e.g., 'Audacity', 'Transformation', 'Revenge', 'Opportunity', 'Oops', etc.) reveal too much and rob off the suspense of the following pages. Some innovativeness was required here too. Else it somewhat dilutes the interest, and in a thriller that is strictly not done.

Umm, Rajvir Singh (born: Oct. 20, 1931) could not have come to Mumbai at the age of 19/20. Even Rannvijay Singh could not have grown up on the beautiful dirty streets of Mumbai in the 1950s. It was still Bombay then.

With the right mix: some taut action, interesting twists and turns, surprise elements and shock factor, this one could turn out to be a very good read.

Come to think of it, it could also translate into a pretty watchable movie on the big screen ... provided it is helmed by a fairly competent director and includes a bunch of interesting actors. Please note, I did not say stars.

It could fit snugly into the genre of films classified as low-budget movies, several of which have hit the marquee lately, e.g., Udaan and Phas Gaye re Obama.

So, Bollywood, where are you?

My rating: I'm going with a 3/5 for Prashant Sharma's second novel and at just Rs. 100 it is light on the wallet too.

Don't buy the book with high expectations. Don't expect high-octane actions ... and you would find yourself leafing through the pages and enjoying a fairly good story.

The book jacket cover is interesting and a bit intriguing too. The production quality of the book is average while the editing errors could and should have been easily pruned out.

For a new author it is a fairly good attempt. I would say that the book held a lot more promise than it actually delivered, however I feel Prashant can do much better. Among the new crop of authors, and there is a veritable tsunami of them, he does show some promise.

Details of the book: If I Pretend I Am Sorry! Will You Pretend And Forgive Me? / Author: Prashant Sharma/ Publisher: Srishti Publishers and Distributors/ Publishing Date: July 07, 2011/ ISBN-10: 9380349386/ ISBN-13: 978-93-80349-381/ Pages: 215/ Price: Rs.100 (50% discount at infibeam.com)

Photograph: The book jacket cover of If I Pretend I Am Sorry! Will You Pretend And Forgive Me? Picture courtesy: link.

Chanakya's Chant/ "Review-It-Get-Published Contest"

2011-09-22T17:28:00.003+05:30

Chanakya's Chant by author-entrepreneur Ashwin Sanghi aka Shawn Haigins won the Vodafone Crossword Book Awards for 2010 - in the Popular Award category.

Ashwin has come out with the Chanakya's Chant/ "Review-It-Get-Published Contest": in 3 easy steps.

Step 1. Write a review.

Step 2. Share it with your friends.

Step 3. Get your name and review printed in the next edition of Chanakya's Chant.

Check out the following link for further details: http://www.facebook.com/shawnhaigins?sk=app_190322544333196

Visit the "Review" tab to post your review.

The last date to submit your review is 5th October 2011.

Here is my take:

A tale well-woven: with history and imagination. The Shri Krishna of Kaliyug, selfless and unsmiling (vis-à-vis the smiling Buddha), yet following the "doctrine of ahimsa" - in his own way, unified Bharatvarsh by outmaneuvering Rakshas, (Kaliyug's Shakuni), the mlechhas: (Alexander, Seleucus), and the vain: (Pauras, Dhanananda). Result: a glorious Mauryan era with Chandragupta on the throne. Bharatvarsh shined.

Did we smile too much in the last millennium? After Draupadi and Chanakya, in a world buffeted by uncertainty and changing power equations, when will the 'shikha' get untied again?

If you like my review then please click on: http://www.facebook.com/shawnhaigins?sk=reviews ... and "like" it too :)

Photograph: The book jacket cover of Chanakya's Chant. Picture courtesy: link.

Chapter Eleven by Amit Shankar

2011-09-18T15:01:00.003+05:30

Amit Shankar is the author of Flight of the Hilsa that went on to become a national bestseller. Chapter Eleven is his second offering. It was launched yesterday (Sept. 17, 2011) at 6.00 pm at the India International Center, Multi-purpose Hall, Lodhi Road, New Delhi.

Book Summary: Feeling suffocated within the confines of Udaipur, his past and inconsequential job, Virendra Vikram Singh aspires to be a part of an MNC. However, with dreams having a nasty habit of going haywire, the day he joins his dream company, it files for Chapter 11 - bankruptcy.

First of its kind, Chapter 11 is a bold and honest portrayal of the corporate sleaze, dejection, love and self-discovery.

Chapter Eleven made for a very good read and here is my advance review:

Crooked trees lead organizations towards Chapter-11. But a Chapter-elevened society silently watched the disrobing of Draupadi. Has anything changed? Karma Yog or blame game - which should we choose? What happens to people who cook the books? Amit has woven an engrossing and thought-provoking tale involving all that and much more. Lessons from Chanakya-Niti enrich the storyline. Happiness comes when we do what we enjoy. But shouldn't we also enjoy what we do? Arjun had the greatest of mentors. Who do we have? What is our Dharma? Even if you have several swashbucklers sitting on your TBR list, don't miss this one!

Details of the book: Chapter Eleven/ Author: Amit Shankar/ Publisher: The Times of India/ Edition: 2011/ Language: English/ ISBN: 9380828336 / ISBN-13: 9789380828336, 978-9380828336 / Bookbinding: Paperback/ Price: Rs.245 (Rs.184 on Flipkart and Rs.164 on Infibeam.)

Photograph: The book jacket cover of Chapter Eleven. Picture courtesy: link.

The Indoctrine of Ahimsa.

2011-09-10T07:49:00.004+05:30

Author's note: This happens to be my second column for The Viewspaper - an online newspaper and India's largest youth paper. (My debut column: "Corruption ka The End?")

A Bengali who does not eat Hilsa is 'Ahilsa'! But the topic here is "ahimsa".

We are told - a mighty empire was brought down through "ahimsa" (the doctrine-of-non-violence).

Really?

Or did the colonizers have their way and leave things eggjactly the way they wanted to. What say you?

The last viceroy said the date - 15th August 1947 - came to his mind, just like that. How very sad!

Bharatvarsh ruthlessly dismembered: East Pakistan, West Pakistan, Burma. Division of progressive Bengal, on ethnic-religious lines: trauma!

Lord Curzon said, "Bengal united is a power; Bengal divided will pull in several different ways." What do you think that indicates?

Places of pilgrimage and holy shrines of a majority of Indians - curiously came under the territories of these new nations. Ostensibly for better administration!

Guru Nanak's birthplace and Shri Hinglaj, where Sati Mata’s head is believed to have fallen and therefore a Shakti Peeth, went to West Pakistan. Several Shakti Peeths and other shrines went to East Pakistan. What-e-funn!

The division was done on the basis of religion. Another phoren term!

Ports taken away affected our trade-commerce-economy. As a security situation arose - it fueled 'their' economy.

K cauldron stirred and left festering. Gerrymandering!

Is this the legacy of modern "ahimsa"? Then its better to remain ahilsa!

Who was the greatest Emperor? We are told: Alexander the Great, Akbar the Great, even Babar and Ghengiz Khan make their presence felt.

Samrat Ashok (also the Great) is hurriedly papered over as having embraced "ahimsa". Much tamasha!

But not a word is ever spoken as to why no mlechcha conqueror could ever grab even an inch of the land the "ahimsa-embracing" Samrat ruled. Are we being fooled?

Nary a word about Samrat Chandragupta II aka Vikramaditya too!

His empire stretched from Bali to Baltic and from Korea to ancient Arvasthan. We have reduced him to "Vikram and Betal", man!

(Arva in Sanskrit means "horse" and sthan means, "place" - Arvasthan signifies the land of horses.)

Vikramaditya introduced the Vedic way of life, built beautiful monuments, imparted education and established law and order.

A lion-hearted, noble, generous, erudite and dutiful ruler, he was devoted to the welfare of his praja - his people, even those from vanquished lands. No subjugation, slave-taking, opium-cultivation, burning and pillaging for him. No discrimination on basis of language, customs or colour of skin.

Once he conquered a land, he did not indulge in rape and plunder nor leave behind devastated cities and rotting corpses, unlike the marauding conquerors that came in from the east and the west. They perpetuated untold atrocities over us - the vanquished. After we misunderstood-misinterpreted the "doctrine-of-ahimsa", that is.

Vikramaditya's paternal and filial rule ended an uneasy period of turmoil and ignorance, ushering in an era of tranquility in these conquered lands.

This IS "ahimsa" my friend. What phoren and phony pundits' preach to us is pathetic, leading us to a dead-end.

What should we do to restore our glorious past? Ahimsa imported, will only make us bite the dust.

Photograph: Suits the topic of the post, no? Pic. courtesy: link.

The Storyteller of Select Bookshop, Bangalore

2011-09-02T18:02:00.005+05:30

Bangalore lost one of its treasure-trove - the Premier Book Shop - run by a reticent, but slyly witty man named T.S. Shanbhag, who learnt his trade from his uncle, the legendary Mr. T.N. Shanbhag of Strand Book Stall, Bombay. Premier Book Shop became a casualty to 'development' which has taken epidemic proportions and also claimed iconic buildings like the over half a century old India Coffee House (ICH) on M.G. Road apart from numerous parks and trees, including the famed M.G. Road boulevard - as its victims. All that is now left of "Premier" is first-time director Asha Ghosh's documentary film "Mr Shanbag's Shop" that has charmed viewers in San Francisco, New York and Bangalore alike. Not sure about our Netas and policy makers though!

Situated on Church Street - a prime location - the property value of Premier Book Shop had increased over time, and thus the proprietor was forced to close his shop when the landlord decided not to renew his lease.

But before Bangalore's conversation with freshly minted English books continued with this important little institution in 1971, the city had been well served by an excellent bookshop - the Select Bookshop - since 1945. Sixty-six years down the line, 'Select' is still going strong and holding out despite several pretenders. It has survived the onslaught of air-conditioned clones of Fox Books with quiet grace... unlike Meg Ryan's The Shop Around the Corner in the 1998 romantic comedy You've Got Mail. Situated in a short and narrow by lane off Brigade Road, this is an oasis of calm amidst all the bustling chaos. There is a particular calmness in this place, which almost seems like a reverential hush intended for the books themselves. The owner, the amiable and witty Mr. K.K.S. Murthy is the face and voice of one of Bangalore's oldest and iconic landmarks. This place also holds discussions and talks by eminent speakers from India and from professors from different Universities across the globe. These talks are organized in a typical informal baithak format wherein the listeners generally sit on mats on the floor with the speaker seated on a chair or on a divan [cushioned chair]. Anyone can join these discussions or visit the shop.

I came across this interesting piece while trawling the net and am re-posting it here, albeit with some modifications. Read on...

I've heard Select Bookshop described as a Dickensian sort of place. Perhaps it's indicative of my stunted reading habits that the adjective that more immediately springs to my mind is Blytonesque. But then there is something slightly fantastical about its shadowy interiors, whose deepest secrets are presumably known only to the kindly old man behind the counter, with the twinkle in his eye. The man is K.K.S. Murthy, inheritor of the Select legacy from his father and founder - the legendary Mr. K.B.K. Rao, from whose faded black and white photos it is apparent that the twinkle in the eye must run in the family. So also must the habit of abandoning flourishing careers to take to bookselling; Mr. Rao was a successful lawyer before he founded "Select". In turn, Mr. Murthy gave up a career as an aeronautical engineer to take over the business and most recently, Mr. Murthy's son Sanjay joined him, leaving behind his days as an accountant.

Even while he worked his technocrat job, Mr. Murthy spent most of his spare time book hunting wherever his work took him. From Chennai's Moore Market to New York to the street bookshops in France on the banks of the river Seine, his is a life inextricably linked with the books. Every enduring memory of his has something to do with buying books, selling books, or figuring out how to transport sacks full of books across the world. There was one story he told me that wasn't about books, when he found himself in France searching for a particular brand of perfume called Genet Fleuri. He managed to locate the perfumer, but couldn't buy the fragrance due to a complicated tangle of licensing agreements. As he narrated it to me I found myself surprised that finding a perfume would be of such interest to a man whose overriding concern in life was the pursuit of books. But as it turned out it was a story about books after all. Back in India K.B.K. Rao had read about Genet Fleuri in Katherine Mansfield's journals and asked his son to try and find it when he was in France. The perfumer's heart went out to Mr. Murthy when he learnt how and why he had come looking for the perfume. He couldn't sell him any but he gifted him an entire carton of bathing soaps made from the same fragrance. The elder bookseller was thrilled when his son gave him the soaps and he stowed them away, bathing with them for months after and refusing to let anyone else touch them.

Select's clientele, like its collection, is eclectic. You're most likely to bump into students, academics and artists within its small confines. A few are casual browsers; most are raving bibliophiles seeking a fix. Mr. Murthy, an unlikely tambourine man, is only too happy to oblige them, suggesting titles, giving advice on where to look, or just letting them browse undisturbed.

From its early makeshift location in a garage on Museum Road to its still humble but more permanent location in an alley off Brigade Road, Select Bookshop has acquired a quiet fame for its exquisite collection of secondhand, rare and antiquarian books. Four years ago the shop was expanded to include three rooms on the first floor, but the basic working arrangement remains the same. Books are stacked in piles all over the floor, on shelves, under them and behind them. If you're looking for something in particular ask Mr. Murthy, or else you're likely to get distracted by shelves full of mythical monsters, unfaithful husbands and gardening advice.

There is one room upstairs which is kept locked. This is where the rare and antique books are kept, away from the probing, sweaty fingers of the casual browser. There is a particular quietness in this room, which almost seems like a reverential hush intended for the books themselves. The books here are brittle with age, and their pages threaten to snap softly if you're not gentle with them. Many of them are obscure; looking through, I found among other volumes a detailed exposition on the cutlery trade, and a defense of the methods of water diviners. As I was about to give up hope of finding something I would be able to appreciate, I opened a black bound book and felt that unmistakable quickening of the pulse when I realized that it was a first edition of Dom Moraes' autobiographical book My Son's Father.

Unfortunately my attention was soon diverted by another book on the remote island of Tristan da Cunha, and when I turned back I had forgotten where I placed my book. I might have been inconsolable had Mr. Murthy not promised that he'd find it and keep it for me.

Apart from his uncanny knack for sourcing rare secondhand books from across the country, it is Mr. Murthy's personal interest in his customers' requirements that sets Select apart from other secondhand bookshops. He spends hours poring over his shelves to find specific books that have been requested. It's customer service of an impeccably high order.

In the age of Internet research, Select is a comforting place to be. There is something reassuring about the thought that not all the information in the world is available online, and that there are still treasures to be found beyond the reach of Google's tentacles. If you don't need your results in 0.34 seconds, it might just be more interesting to seek Mr. Murthy out.

Select Bookshop:

No. 71, Brigade Road Cross, Brigade Road
Phone: 080-25580770
Timings: Mon-Sat, 11.00 AM-6.30 PM; Sunday, 11.00 AM-5.00PM

Whether he was in Bangalore or in Boston, the favourite hobby of Mr. K.B.K. Rao, the founder of Select Bookshop, remained browsing through books. His son recollects a touching episode. [Read: When Select Bookshop went to Boston]

To mention a few who frequent here are Yusuf Arakkal, Girish Karnad, Ramachandra Guha, N. Ram, Romila Thapar, Shashi Despande, etc as well as expatriates who religiously visit the bookshop whenever circumstances bring them to Bangalore. Occasional visitors include author Ruskin Bond, who has been coming to the Select since the 1960s. Infact Bond makes it a point to drop in to this bookstore whenever he is in Bangalore. Mr. Murthy also has a correspondence with the author, who lives in Landour near Mussoorie.Bond even wrote: "Booksellers should encourage browsers. Sooner or later most of them will become book buyers. And it was in Select that I became a collector of picture postcards."

On being asked if he was feeling challenged by the big bookshops in Bangalore such as Landmark, Gangarams, Strand and Shankars? His reply was "I am not selling books here and I am not here to do business. Because of our common interest being books, I meet so many people, young and old and from various backgrounds. And it is nice to meet new people, learn new things and see new perspectives. As far as my motive and the big bookshops intention are concerned, we follow totally different schools of ideology or philosophy."One of the unique features of this place is that, any visitor is allowed to browse among the books for as long as you want. There is no one watching or policing you.Mr. Murthy gets the real notion of any person who visits him and if he finds some person 'deserving' of a particular book, monetary consideration is the last thing on his mind. He simply gives away books to some visitors, especially students with insufficient funds just because he saw flair on their faces. Just think who these days would think of helping a not-so-well-known artist and showcase his works and not take a commission on the sale? Well, Mr. Murthy is one such person, who is trying to develop an art gallery for the young artists. He also has a rare collection of paintings and a collector can buy paintings by some of the upcoming talents here, which do not find space in elegant, and spacious art galleries. He certainly is a rare man.

For one who ran a bookshop, Mr. Shanbagh was a man of few words, and could rarely be drawn into a long conversation. Apparently, at the felicitation organized by Ram Guha and Sujatha Kesavan to celebrate 30 years of Premier Book Shop, he answered the fulsome praise of those present in the only way he knew. He handed out copies of the new Rupa edition of Rabindra Rachanabali to all those present!! It was his kind, if rather terse and gruff manner that had turned his shop into an excellent meeting place for people and ideas.

However, the ever-gracious and sprightly Mr. K.K.S. Murthy of the Select Bookshop is quite the opposite.

The shelves of Select Bookshop, now bent under the weight of the history they carry, are full of books on Anthropology, Sociology, History, Essays and Commentaries and a whole range of other books from the colonial era and after. There are books on education, Egyptology, health, art, politics, humour and satire, philosophy and religion, psychic science and psychology, and folklore. There are memoirs and anthologies and old comics. These books spill out from every conceivable corner, and alcoves. Some of the books came out as limited editions back in the day and bear inscriptions listing down the number of the copy. Others have been signed by their authors when they were being presented to eminent persons such as the Governor of State for example.

The bookshop also has newspapers dating as far back as 1900 in English as well as in Kannada. There are books on silverwork, architecture, and those that make one reminisce about the old city of Bangalore. A French book dating back to 1758, and a priced edition of Murder Off Miami complete with old telegrams, radiograms, and handwritten letters are found in this store. One also finds here old maps and lithographs. Even an autographed copy of Tagore's Gitanjali!

The bookshop also has its own publishing banner - Select Books. It has already published non-fictional works such as Time and Eternity, Language of the Self, Treasures of Buddhism, etc. Select Books has also unveiled its own Kannada publication wing.

Just as one begins to wonder how all these books ever found their way into the collection, Mr. Murthy pitches in with a story about the book you might be holding in your hands. The stories have grown with him, stories about how C.R. Rajagopalachari used to borrow books from his father’s personal collection in Kurnool, stories from acquaintances of the likes of Kenneth Anderson, stories to regale and reminisce. He can always be trusted to keep you engaged in a narration of your interest.

If there is a specific book you are looking for, you can leave you name, phone number and the name of the book in a small diary that is maintained at the shop. Mr. Murthy will try and find it for you. Usually, he calls back with the prize find.

While Select specializes in selling old books, it also does brisk business in new books and best sellers. This part of the business is mostly overseen by his son Sanjay. "We sell all kinds of books. Except computer and management ones," says Mr. Murthy with a chuckle.

When people asked his father how he could sustain his shop with only 3-5 customers a day and also support his family, he would reply smiling, "Still I succeeded in educating and marrying my children off with just this business."

However, according to Mr. Murthy, Select's sales are declining probably because people are reading less, contradicting the common assumption that the book business is flourishing.

Let us prove him wrong. What say you?

Website: http://www.selectbooksindia.com/

For further reading:

1. Bangalore's iconic book store
2. Select Bookshop: Grounded By Tonnes Of Tomes
3. Yellow pages that tell old tales
4. Select Book Shop turns 60 today

Photograph: Mr. K.K.S. Murthy with his customers at Select Bookshop. Picture courtesy link.

Chanakya's Chant by Ashwin Sanghi

2011-08-27T17:32:00.005+05:30

Authors Note: This book review has been published in association with Vodafone Crossword Book Awards - 2010. Please click here to know more about the awards.

An exciting read!

Chanakya's Chant is author-entrepreneur Ashwin Sanghi aka Shawn Haigins' second offering after the 2007 The Rozabal Line that went on to become a national bestseller. It has been nominated for the Vodafone Crossword Book Awards for 2010 - in the Popular Award category - along with nine others. I do not know who will win, but since 'win' is one half of 'Ashwin' ... he may already be half way through *smile*

Chanakya is no stranger to us. Through history books, the Amar Chitra Katha comics and the TV series by the same name, along with his two seminal works, the Arthashastra and the Nitishastra, we all claim to "know" him. Though his life and works have been lost to us, due to the antiquities of time, yet several attempts have been made to reconstruct his persona. However his legend has lived on and will continue to do so.

In Chanakya's Chant, the author has relied on his own imagination along with materials culled from various sources, including perhaps Mudrarakshasa (The Signet of the Minister) - a historical play in Sanskrit by Vishakhadatta. There are two narratives that runs parallel to each other: one is that of Vishnugupt/Kautilya aka Chanakya - the son of Chanak and the other is that of Pt. Gangasagar Mishra - a modern day Chanakya like figure. They are separated by over two millennia and there is no physical similarity between them yet they are very much alike: cold, calculating, cunning and motivated by higher ideals. Their stated aim is to unify India (for Pt. Mishra it was of course a much truncated version). Neither of them wished for nor received any material gains, nor did they desire for roads and statues to be built after them. They were selfless in the truest sense and they were the followers of the doctrine of "ahimsa" - in their own way.

Chanakya had Chandragupta Maurya while Pt. Gangasagar has Chandini Gupta - a slum kid he is determined to install as the PM of India, as their protégés. Chandragupta - from whatever we can gather about him - was valiant and sharp, however in the book he comes across as a tad puppetish. Which is fine, since Chanakya is the focus of the narrative, but a little more assertive and cerebral Chandragupta wouldn't have disappointed. Chandini by contrast is much beholden to Pt. Gangasagar, though she does display some spark and spunk sporadically. However, come to think of it, it could just be that both were simply following the paths outlined by their respective gurus and did so because of their immense faith in them, all the while learning via osmosis ... which do not make them puppets, but clever! And ideal examples of guru and shishya (protégé).

Both the narratives flow along quite well, pulling you into their midst and going back and forth 2300 years - taking you through the ups and downs, the struggle, the revenge, the cunning, the wars and battles, the intrigues, the mind games, the spies and vishkanyas, the battle of instinct, changing loyalties and promises. The book encompasses history, religion and politics among other things in quite a mouthwatering mix.

Chanakya's character is much more strongly etched, which is not surprising, and even though the author has borrowed quotations from others and attributed them to Chanakya ... none can say that the great man himself had not said similar things. However, the cuss words mouthed by him seem too undignified to have been uttered by the great man himself. I'm sure Chanakya's cuss words too would have sounded erudite *smile*

The author hasn't changed the names of places too much. E.g., Taxila is not called Takshashila. Peshawar is not called Pushkalwati or even Purushapura or Pushpapura - perhaps for the ease of reading.

Chanakya - one of the most illustrious among the students to have graduated from the famed Takshashila University authored the world's finest treatise on political duties, statecraft, economic policies, state intelligence systems, administrative skills and military strategy, called the Arthashastra, consisting of 15 books. He also ably guided Chandragupta Maurya to lay the foundations of the great Mauryan Empire, and also served as his prime minister. Emperor Ashok the Great was the grandson of Chandragupta Maurya.

Takshashila, the place where this university existed, is currently in Pakistan, and gets its name from Taksha, who was the son of Bharath (the brother of Shri Ram). Taksha ruled over the kingdom of Taksha Khanda, which even extended beyond modern day Uzbekistan, and Tashkent - the present day Uzbek capital also gets its name from Taksha/Takshashila. As to why modern scholars and experts are so keen to classify the Ramayan and the Mahabharat as 'mythology' instead of the history of the Treta and Dwapar Yug ... my guess is as good as yours. And why they try their bestest to restrict them within the current landmass of India, with a reluctant reference to Sri Lanka and Gandhar (in modern Afghanistan) ... I have not a clue.

Frankly, Chanakya is considered to be the first great political realist, a master strategist, the world's first "Management Guru" and a true Man of Destiny (Yug Purush). To my mind, he is the Shri Krishna of Kali Yug (the age of Kali - the era in which we live). He is the third among famous political strategists to have walked on this land, after Shri Krishna and Shakuni. Yes, Shakuni. Shri Krishna's successful guidance of the Pandavas in the Mahabharat is legendary and the Bhagavad Gita is universally renowned, as the jewel of India's spiritual wisdom, yet let us not forget that without Shakuni's cunning, the Kauravas were nothing really. It took someone of the caliber of Shri Krishna to finally outwit Shakuni.

Sadly our knowledge of Shakuni is limited. I see a repeat in the face-off between Chanakya and Rakshas but here too our knowledge of them is sketchy at the most. Ashwin has however tried to flesh it out a bit.

The central theme of Chanakya's Chant is a Shakti Mantra that is uttered by both Chanakya as well as Pt. Gangasagar Mishra:

"Adi Shakti, Namo Namah
Sarab Shakti, Namo Namah
Prithum Bhagvati, Namo Namah
Kundalini Mata Shakti
Mata Shakti, Namo Namah"

(translated: Primal Shakti, I bow to thee All-encompassing Shakti, I bow to thee That through which God creates, I bow to thee Creative power of the Kundalini Mother of all, to thee I bow.)

It is generally believed that Chanakya's views on women were a tad regressive. However I have always felt that his utterances towards women were not per se but w.r.t specific events and contexts.

Chanakya apart from being a great teacher was also a master strategist with deep insights into warfare, military technology and plans ... including the art of intelligence gathering. Whatever he has said could be interpreted in the light of the above. He was farsighted and hence may have meant his writings to be a cautionary note for the future generations - since he may not have believed that his generation has seen the last of the mischief mongers and mlechchas.

Could it not be that vested interests have tweaked his works to suit their needs? Just as our scriptures, etc was tweaked, e.g., to make 'aagre' (to lead) turn into 'aagne' (into the fire). A widow is supposed to lead the funeral procession of her deceased husband and not immolate herself on his pyre to commit 'Sati' (known as 'Satidaha' in Bengal – meaning 'the burning of Sati')

It took immense efforts under extremely trying circumstances (since the vested interests fought tooth and nail) from a succession of social reformers lead by the great Iswarchandra Vidyasagar to point that out and finally abolish 'Sati'.

Yet we still see it and much more happening under the guise of 'our ancient customs and traditions' of which there is no shortage of upholders. Sadly.

In 2009, we commemorated the bicentennial or the 200th anniversary of the birth of two historic figures, whose ideas and actions shaped the modern world - the evolutionary biologist Charles Darwin and President Abraham Lincoln, the 16th President of the United States (US), who successfully led the US through its greatest internal crisis, the American Civil War, preserving the Union and ending slavery. On the other hand, we succeeded in completely overlooking another important occasion - the 100th anniversary of the publication of the Arthashastra - (written in the period 321 - 296 B.C.) - the ancient Indian treatise on statecraft, economic policy and military strategy, authored by the world's original political realist, Chanakya. Chanakya's long forgotten wisdom from the 3rd and 4th century B.C. was restored to modern India when Dr. R. Shamashastri of Mysore discovered a manuscript of the Arthashastra in 1904, then edited and published it to great acclaim in 1909.

So, in a way Ashwin Sanghi's novel has come at the right time. Chanakya is timeless and therefore there cannot be a time or era when he or his teachings can ever become redundant.

Chanakya's Chant has revived our interest in the life and teachings of the great Chanakya. I am keen to know more about him and Chandragupta Maurya ... and I wonder what would India (and her people) been like had they lived in today's times. If only ... we could find visionaries and leaders like them - so personified by Pt. Gangasagar Mishra and Chandini Gupta, even their circumstances and/or events that they are a part of ring a bell with the reader.

We all know that Chandragupta fared well even after Chanakya decided to retire and write his treatises. But for a modern Chandragupta, that may be difficult, nay impossible, given the gargantuan proportions of the challenges we as a nation face.

However, there is a need for some serious introspection, a need for soul searching - to understand as to where we went wrong in the last millennium or in the last one thousand years, that the great Empires and the Vedic civilization collapsed. That this great land saw the advent of conquerors after conquerors ... the ones who could not be rebuffed or defeated, and this land was plundered of her wealth and saw the forced demise of a part of her culture. Paying mere lip service to our culture and traditions and reminiscing about our past glories will not do and is not enough. A glorious past is no guarantee for a shining future unless we are prepared to jettison petty-mindedness for serious intent to execute the common goal of making India (Bharatavarsh) emerge as a great power in the 21st century.

In these times of turbulence and violence - the Kali Yug - Chanakya's thinking, his teachings and his philosophy are even more relevant. Each of us needs his guidance like never before. 'Coz a nation is made great by her people. And we all know a weak spine cannot support a strong and righteous mind ... and vice versa.

Details of the book: Chanakya's Chant/ Ashwin Sanghi/ Publisher: Westland/ Pages: 441/ Paperback/ ISBN: 978-93-80658-67-4/ Price: Rs.195/

Photograph: The book jacket cover of Chanakya's Chant. Picture courtesy: link.
About the author: Ashwin Sanghi (born January 25, 1969): An entrepreneur by profession, Ashwin Sanghi writes extensively on history, religion and politics in his spare time, but historical fiction in the thriller genre is his passion and hobby. Sanghi holds a master s degree from Yale. He lives in India with his wife Anushika and son Raghuvir.

His first novel, The Rozabal Line, was originally published in 2007 under his pseudonym, Shawn Haigins. The book was subsequently published in 2008 and 2010 in India under his own name and went on to become a national bestseller.

along the way by TGC Prasad

2011-08-24T11:52:00.003+05:30

An entertaining, enjoyable and a fun read.

Based in Bangalore, TGC Prasad isn't a professional author but comes from a strategic and general management consulting background. Nevertheless he has written several novels and along the way is his latest offering.

This is the story of three friends – who met at NIT Kozhikode (Calicut) and became friends for life.

Venkata (Venkata Subramaniam Adisankara Tanikaburla) or VSAT hails from a small town and is the son of a schoolteacher. Raj Malhotra is from Delhi and is the quintessential Punjabi munda, whose father deals in pre owned cars. Adi or Aditya too hails from Andhra but miraculously has a short name ... and a secret of his own.

We read about their lives in NIT – K, and it is nicely sprinkled with wit and humour.

During their third year Venkata becomes besotted with Anjali – a Coorgi girl with a retired colonel for a father. Food (both solid and liquid), sleep and computers keep Adi occupied while Raj is only too happy to take his Malhotra khandaan's 'specialties' forward *wink*

By a happy coincidence all four of them, along with Srila, Anjali's best friend, are placed with TCS. After the training period Srila opts for Chennai, while the others remain in Bangalore. We get to read about their office capers, peek into the lives of software engineers and get a glimpse of the goings-on in the IT industry.

Anjali and VSAT want to marry, but will their culturally diverse families give in to their wishes? Will VSAT's parents agree to have a non-Telugu speaker as their daughter-in-law and more importantly will Anjali's retired Colonel and trivia loving father accept VSAT, who is woefully short on trivia, as his son-in-law.

Well read the book to find out, I won't play the spoiler.

You get to read about what IT companies are willing to do to acquire talent, make sure they join and retain them. It is difficult to get TCS folks to join ... even if a good offer is made, the hard copies of the offer letters handed over, umpteenth questions answered and even after the candidates accept the offer and commits to join. Rest assured, TCS line and staff managers will do everything and more to hold them back ... and will most definitely bring out their trump card, their Brahmastra ... an onsite opportunity (in the US of course). Matter settled.

And while I am at it, let me also demolish a popular myth – that HR folks have all the power to make or break someone's career.

It is not so. HR folks – are part of the staff function – and have no power or very little power, which is, pretty much equivalent to having no power at all. But are popular scapegoats – for line managers – if anything went wrong. HR especially Talent Acquisition plays the supply chain function in the IT industry. They hire the talent required for a project to commence or ramp up ... and have to adhere to the negotiable and non-negotiable aspects of the requirements and SOPs. They have to make provisions for no shows, reneges and backfills too ... in order to minimize revenue leakage. And all this cannot be done after a joinee fails to show up or resigns within a short time span. These have to be anticipated well in advance. Folks in talent acquisition are assessed based on offer to joinee ratio and offer to on boarding ratio. They operate within a strict hiring budget and timelines ... er ... deadlines. It is not called deadline for nothing ... you are dead if things don't happen as per the hiring plan.

But I digress.

along the way is a warm hearted story that is tailor made for the silver screen. There is fun, humour, wit, friendship, romance, ruthna- manana, campus and office capers, quirks, heartburn over increments and office politics, well meaning advice and letters from parents, foreign tours, visa capers, city life, small town, picturesque locales, tragedy, comedy, Hitler and Pappu, good food, bad food, maggi, kissing in the rain, Telugu superstar Mahesh Babu's – the one who can break light posts with his bare hand - heavy duty dialogues and hold your breathe ... a friendly cameo by none other than Shah Rukh Khan!

What else do you want?

And yes, there is even the bit about the divine and the mandatory offering of one's crowning glory to the Lord of the hills.

And before I forget, there are lots of trivia too – so your GK will surely travel northward, whether you like it or not.

My rating: 3.5/5

The language is simple and the writing style is crisp which makes for an easy read and a thoroughly enjoyable read. The production value of the book is good, the cover design is quite attractive and the book feels good to hold. There are very few editing errors and it only adds to the reading pleasure.

I only wish that certain aspects of Raj and Srila's lives were better developed.

You can find echoes of: Hyderabad Blues, 3 idiots and Dil Chahta Hai in this novel. And even that of Chetan Bhagat's Five Point Someone. Umm, considering that it was the only readable book by Mr. Bhagat, that isn't too bad, no?

Bollywood, where are you?

Details of the book: along the way/ Author: TGC Prasad/ Publisher: Rupa Publications/ Publishing Date: 07/01/2011/ ISBN: 978-81-291-1784-7/ Paperback/Pages: 368/ Price: Rs.295.

Photograph: The book jacket cover of along the way. Picture courtesy: link.

Life after the Bouffant

2011-08-06T18:03:00.004+05:30

Begum Ayesha Sultana born Shormila Thakur (on 8th December 1946), known by her stage name Sharmila Tagore (Bengali: শর্মিলা ঠাকুর) is an Indian film actress few have unheard of. Born in a Hindu Bengali family in Hyderabad, Andhra Pradesh, to Gitindranath Tagore who was then Dy. General Manager of the British India Company and owner of Elgin Mills, she attended St. John's Diocesan Girls' Higher Secondary School and Loreto Convent, Asansol. She is the great-grandniece of the great poet laureate Gurudeb Rabindranath Tagore (Robindronath Thakur).

In fact she is more closely related to the great Tagore from her mother's side. Her maternal grandmother Latika Tagore was the granddaughter of Rabindranath Tagore's brother Dijendranath. Sharmila has never met Rabindranth Tagore (7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941), but he taught her mother when she went to Shantiniketan. Apparently her mother had received wonderful collections from Tagore like little couplets, drawings, et cetera in her book. But she would never give those to her.

Reason: She had lent Sharmila Gora (a novel) autographed by Tagore himself when she was 12, and she wanting to show off took it to school and lost it! Her mother did not speak to her for months after that. Not surprising, if you were to ask me.

To cut to the chase, I found this piece while trawling the net ...and decided to re-post it here. It makes for an interesting read.

The good news is the famous dimples are still intact.

But if you loved that sweeping bouffant, alas, that’s gone. But Sharmila Tagore doesn’t mind. “I thought I looked nice so I just did it,” she says with a laugh. “But now my children say, ‘Amma, you were very pretty. But that hair ...’”

The bouffant might have bit the dust but Sharmila Tagore is still going strong. Though she hasn’t appeared in too many Hindi films, she had leading roles in two recent Bengali films. In an industry where actresses have notoriously-short shelf lives that’s not a bad innings given that she entered the industry in 1959. She was 13 then. Her director was Satyajit Ray. The film: Apur Sansar.

Tagore cannot even remember clearly how it all came about. “I think someone saw me in front of some school and then Manik-da (Ray) called my father and asked if he had any objections,” she says. “I remember I was wearing a frock at the photo shoot and Manik-da asked if I could wear a sari.”

Ray was already a household name, thanks to Pather Panchali. His newly-discovered hero, Soumitra Chatterjee, was playing Apu. The role of Aparna, Apu’s young bride in Apur Sansar was one any young actress would covet. “But I was quite blase,” confesses Tagore who went on to act in four other Ray films. “I just did whatever everyone told me to do. There was no special enjoyment, no special tension.” She smiles and says what she cherished most was meeting the crew, many of whom became regulars in Ray films. “Durga-da, who did the sound, Bansi-da (Chandragupta), Subrata-kaku,” she ticks them off. “I don’t know why some were ’da (brothers) and some kaku (uncles). They became my pals. Can you imagine they are all gone?”

Ray knew that it would be hard to convince his audience that this sophisticated young Calcutta schoolgirl was the shy village bride Aparna. Tagore remembers she had a scene where she is supposed to hit her co-star Soumitra Chatterjee. “It had a lot of dialog. I said it all, and Manik-da said, ‘Excellent.’ Then he said, ‘Rinku (Tagore’s nickname), ekta kaaj koro. Kichhu bolar dorkar nei. Thappor merey choley jao. (Do something, Rinku. You don’t need to say anything. Just smack him and go.)’ He just cut it all out.”

But Apur Sansar was nothing compared to her next role in Ray’s Devi, where she played the daughter-in-law of an obsessed zamindar who thinks she is a goddess incarnate. Tagore readily says that it was a role she didn’t even fully comprehend while shooting. “I understood the romance of Apur Sansar, but the complications of a woman’s body in Devi were so much more tragic. I had no idea what I was doing till I was in my 30s,” she says. “The face of that girl still haunts me. You know, that film was just close-up after close-up.”

She went on to act in Aranyer Din Ratri, Nayak, and Seemabaddha and got to see Ray evolve as a filmmaker. “I think he peaked with Charulata, Mahanagar, and Aranyer Din Ratri,” she says, though she adds he never lost a certain innocence and simplicity in telling a story.

But did she ever feel comfortable enough to contradict him? She chuckles and says, “Well, in Nayak my character was supposed to wear glasses and I asked, is she long-sighted or short-sighted. He was very pleased. He told someone, ‘You know, Rinku is thinking about her roles now.’”

But her thinking person’s actress image suffered a severe jolt when the girl from the Tagore household left Calcutta to try her luck in Bombay. “My naak-unchoo (snooty) friends were disappointed, but I needed to stand on my own feet. Working with Manik-da was wonderful, but there was no money in it. If you wanted economic independence you had to do other things,” she says frankly. There was also a Bengali connection in Bombay— filmmakers like Shakti Samanta and Sachin Bhaumik who took her under their wings. At that time leading man Shammi Kapoor was being paired with new faces. That’s how she ended up in Kashmir ki Kali.

It wasn’t the smoothest of landings. “My Hindi was bad—Bengali accented—and I was like a piece of cardboard,” she admits. “And I had to learn all these jhatkas.” She remembers being in tears when she watched her first rushes. “There was some song. I thought I was awful. I hated everything from the eye makeup to the song. I didn’t feel like that at all about Aparna in Apur Sansar.” She smiles and then without missing a beat recites the dialog from Apur Sansar. “Tomaar chokhey ki acchey bolo. (What’s in your eyes, tell me.) Kajol. (Kajal) To my wife. Wife maaney jaani (I know the meaning of wife),” she shakes her head. “Beautiful.”

Though after Kashmir ki Kali she was almost ready to pack her bags and go home, she stuck it out and soon became the glamour doll of Bombay. That’s when the Sharmila Tagore of the bouffant and butterfly-knot blouse was created. She says she had no idea she was setting trends. “I was impulsive. I was ready for a new flavor. I guess I had a guardian angel because somehow I landed on my feet.”

Well, almost. When Sharmila Tagore suddenly appeared in a bikini, Calcutta’s intelligentsia choked over their tea. “I was foolish. I didn’t understand the Indian mind,” she says. “Usually the photographer tries to trap you. But in this case he tried to tell me it might not be a good idea. But I said, let’s do it. You know, I was just growing up and making mistakes, but they were my mistakes.” But now, decades later, she says she didn’t realize how much appearances counted not just for her but for her family. “Then heroines wore white saris and hid their whiskeys with coke. I drank whiskey. I smoked cigarettes. But I did everything openly. I lived alone in a hotel. So I was a social suspect.”

But her headstrong attitudes didn’t just raise eyebrows. The glamorous girl-about-town image also trapped Sharmila Tagore the actress. She remembers how in Anupama, the director Hrishikesh Mukherjee tried to de-glamorize her. “He said, ‘Rinku, this is a motherless child. You are very pretty and we’ll give you a backlight. We don’t need the hair.’ But I wouldn’t listen to him. I don’t know why he didn’t sack me on the spot.” She says her looks probably got in the way of any roles in art films as well. “Perhaps I looked too refined. At that time parallel cinema was all about Harijans in Chakra,” she shrugs.

Eventually, there came a point when she almost quit films. “It was those huge posters of An Evening in Paris,” she says. “You could see my arms and legs and it looked like I wasn’t wearing any clothes. My mother-in-law was coming to town. And the driver had to go and remove all the posters.” That was the point when she decided she needed an image makeover. After that she took on films like Aradhana, Safar, and Amar Prem and with Rajesh Khanna became quite the romantic couple.

As an actress she played opposite most of the leading men of her time - Shashi Kapoor, Dharmendra, Sanjeev Kumar, even Amitabh Bachchan. She has fond memories of them all but if she had to pick her leading men, they would be Paul Newman, Soumitra Chatterjee, and Shashi Kapoor. “And some of Dilip Kumar’s performances are fantastic - he is not good-looking but charismatic. He is a complete natural. Like Naseeruddin or Balraj Sahni. Shahrukh is not. Amitabh plays to the gallery but there is a coldness somewhere.”

Though she got along well with her men, it was sometimes a little dicier with the leading ladies. Rumor has it Mala Sinha once slapped her. She says the incident probably happened when she suggested some dance step. “She said I was trying to teach her and was humiliated. I tried to apologize but she screamed, ‘Who does she think she is?’ But I don’t think she slapped me,” says Tagore. “Maybe I was out of turn.” Then there was a time during the making of Daag that her co-star Raakhee stopped talking to her. Tagore admits that happened but says she has no idea why. “God knows who said what. She’d been to my house many times. I went to her wedding. And she stopped talking suddenly.”

But the two returned together a couple of years ago to star in Rituparno Ghosh’s Shubho Muhurat. In fact, Tagore’s latest, most successful forays have been in Bengali films, including Abar Aranye—a sort of sequel to Aranyer Din Ratri, but this time made by Gautam Ghosh. “I signed that film only to reunite with all those people,” she says happily. “We all shared a bungalow and it was so much fun. Soumitra would read poems he was writing on scraps of paper for his granddaughter. Subhendu (Chatterjee) would tell stories. And Samit (Bhanja) was of course very sick at that time but he was with us throwing a fit about bad food. There was such a bond between all of us.” She remembers how Samit Bhanja couldn’t come to the premiere because by then his cancer had spread. They all called him instead. Within a month he was dead. “But he is so alive in the film,” she says. “It was about generosity and heart, not about getting paid. It’s the kind of giving that characterizes us as actors.”

In Bombay she soon found that kind of enjoyment in her roles was harder and harder to come by. “Especially after Amitabh, it became all about the iconic mother, the absent father, and the rebel son. Women’s roles became more and more regressive,” she says. “Now if you see television everything is about puja and the bindis are covering the entire forehead. Even villains have to be men because that’s a decision-making role. Women have to beautiful and good and cry and dance.” And they have to be young too. “In Hindi cinema life stops at 30 whether you are Sharmila or Raakhee or Madhuri,” she says. “But in Bengali an Aparna Sen name still has marquee value.”

Tagore returned to the Bollywood big screen once more for Aamir Khan’s Mann. “But I was disappointed. He showed me something and he made me do something else,” she says without rancor. “It was such a lovely role but from the first day he said ‘moist eyes, moist eyes’ and I just gave up.”

But she has no regrets. Not even for the roles that got away - like Khilona, which made Mumtaz a star, or Haathi Mere Saathi.

Apart from the occasional film role, whether it’s Bengali or English (Mississippi Masala), she dabbles in television and happily spends her time gardening, reading, listening to music, watching television. “And I love to loaf. I can do nothing for days. I am very content,” says Tagore. Son Saif Ali Khan is a bona fide star now, one daughter designs jewelry, the other, after working at Ford Foundation, is venturing into films.

Her marriage to cricketer Mansour Ali Khan of Pataudi was a glamorous inter-religious marriage that people said would never work. But it did, though at one point she remembers she awoke to find the government had sent a bodyguard because of death threats. Now she says it’s mostly just a tangle of names. “I was Mrs. Khan in the kids’ school. I am Ayesha Begum of Pataudi. I am Sharmila Tagore. I am Rinku.” Then she chuckles, “When I wanted to print a card we had huge debates.” But in the end she decided, “Ultimately I am just Sharmila Tagore.”

Picture: Courtesy link.

Haunted by Douglas Misquita

2011-08-02T14:07:00.003+05:30

Fast paced, filled with plenty of high-octane action and incredible twists and turns, Haunted is one action-thriller guaranteed to give an adrenaline rush. Douglas Misquita, Jr. has impressed and how!

Don't be mislead by the title, this book has nothing to do with the denizens of the spirit world or the afterlife, and the author - Douglas Misquita - is very much Indian *smile*

Action-thriller is one of my favourite genres and needless to say, I was more than glad when I won an author signed copy. There is nothing better than an intelligent and lucid thriller that pulls you into the narrative and keeps you there till the very end.

Book blurb: FBI Special Agent Kirk Ingram's life is torn apart when his family is brutally murdered before his eyes. Devastated physically and psychologically, he vows to destroy organized crime in all forms.

Across the globe, an international trade house brings terrorist activities and organized crime together in a deadly nexus that threatens to bring the world-order to the point of anarchy.

And only one man stands in the way of global terror and paranoia - one man seeking redemption, and waging a personal battle against the demons of his past...

Alistair Maclean is my all time favourite for his Second World War and action-thriller novels like: Ice Station Zebra, The Guns of Navarone, Breakheart Pass, among others. I have enjoyed watching the movies too... and it had absolutely nothing to do with the presence of a certain Gregory Peck, I tell you.

Maclean's Where Eagles Dare starring the slightly aging but with his debonair charm intact Richard Burton, and the suave Clint Eastwood is a classic that has achieved cult status.

I liked Sydney Pollack's Three Days of the Condor starring Robert Redford and Faye Dunaway as well. (Umm, I have a sneaking suspicion that the recent yawn-inducing yarn Kuchh Luv Jaisa starring the face of Indian English film, Rahul Bose and the wannabe desi Jennifer Aniston, Shefali Shah, directed by someone who is clearly a legend in her own mind, was 'inspired' by this 1975 classic.)

But I digress.

A plot built around the terrorism theme isn't something that we can call refreshing or novel, however the plot in Haunted clearly is and for an Indian author this one is certainly a hatke plot. Frankly the reader never feels that an Indian author has written this, and I mean no disrespect towards Indian authors. I am merely doffing my hat at Douglas' caliber as an action-thriller writer, the meticulous research, the erudite language, the taut narrative and the nearly impeccable editing, apart from the look and feel of the book of course. That reminds me... I got to buy one, a hat that is, if Douglas plans to keep writing thrillers like this.

The opening pages are simply mind-blowing - the built up, the chase and the encounter - all leave you quite stunned and yet asking for more.

The pace dips a bit in the subsequent pages, but picks up where it has to and from then onwards it is one tremendous ride. This isn't your run-of-the-mill terrorism stories but a tight adrenalin packed one, involving Citex, a deadly nerve agent. Umm, it reminds me of the 'naagpaas' mentioned in our epics and other literature classified as mythology... btw.

You travel along with Kirk Ingram, the slightly larger than life protagonist/hero, through his trials and tribulations - his highs and lows, his success and setbacks, his smiles and tears - in his quest to destroy organized crime in all forms.

Through the US, Eastern Europe and the Balkans you come across characters - some pitch black, some white and others with distinct shades of gray. You get a sneak peek into the methodologies adapted by the bad rather ugly and evil guys, their logistics network, their fronts, their lives, their agenda and their motivations.

There is some fabulous underwater action too.

The good guys - and there are quite a few of them - work tirelessly despite mounting challenges. Detective Connor stands out among them, though for some reason Arnold Schwarzenegger's visage appeared in my head a few times while reading about him - and under the current circumstances, it is not a compliment. And the good detective does absolutely nothing to merit one either.

You will warm up to the plucky Tamura and the intrepid Amanda Gunner who is on a mission of her own. What that is I will not tell you, read the book to find out.

Lars Gunther, his conglomerate and the shadowy Imer Qerim along with their cronies and sidekicks ooze nastiness from every pore of their being. They will leave no stone unturned to succeed in their nefarious designs and will stop at nothing to liquidate any opposition, Kirk and his team included.

How each of them goes about their job is something you got to read for yourself - for the thrills.

I won't be surprised if your GK or your vocabulary travels northward at the end of it. And there is a twist in the tale too - but don't expect me to play the spoiler. That is something I will not do.

Do not expect to skim through the book and this is no cursory read. It demands your full attention and is worth every bit of it.

When I say full attention, it does not indicate towards the reading bit only. You got to visualize it too. Simultaneously. Make sure you play out the scenes in your head, while your eyes do the reading. That will make it as they say in Mumbai or perhaps in matinee speak, "paisa vasool".

Needless to say, Haunted will make for one helluva movie too but not a desi one for sure. Umm, come to think of it, it may all depend on the caliber of the production team and the person wielding the megaphone and periodically hollering, "cut" as well.

There are many events and characters peppering the book that may leave you with the feeling that a few of them could have been pruned out. Yet towards the end they all converge and all the loose ends get tied up neatly. A word of advice: do try to read this book at one go or at least cover as much as you can every time you sit down or curl up to read it. You may have to go back and forth a few times in order to get the flow or refresh your memory... but then it is all worth it.

And Oh, make sure to put a face to the characters too - in your mind that is, e.g., Robert Redford or Gregory Peck or Paul Newman for Kirk Ingram - its more enjoyable that way. Where my loyalties lie, you already know. Don't you?

My rating: 4/5. A compelling read, it will appeal to all age groups. For fans of the action-thriller genre - this is one book you'll love to sink your teeth into.

I look forward to Douglas' future writings with interest.

Details of the book: Haunted/ Author: Douglas Misquita, Jr./ Publisher: Frog Books/ Publishing Date: March 1, 2011/ ISBN-10: 938015495X / ISBN-13: 978-9380154954/ Pages: 372/ Price: Rs.350; US $16.

Photograph: The book jacket cover of Haunted. Picture courtesy: link.

Corruption ka The End?

2011-07-25T12:51:00.005+05:30

Author's note: This is my debut column for The Viewspaper – an online newspaper and India's largest youth paper.

Money wearing Black! Slack! Without bees or wasps - 'Corruption' - is the buzzword. Right you heard. What is - 'corruption'? Never out of fashion. Can we define it? No treat. Aakhir 'corruption' kis chidiya ka naam hai? What say?

Anna and Baba vow to eliminate it from society. Oh goody! Once and for all! That's tall. Is it doable? Double trouble. Will money leave the classic black and opt for the pristine white? Fight or flight.

Corruption = evasion of taxes. Culprits = the usual suspects. Netalog-policewallahs-businessmen! Ten on ten! Just like Baa, Bahoo aur Baby. But then all that fails to glitter can also be gold. Blow hot and cold.

"Maun-vrat' when injustice happens. 'Coz "silence is golden".

Violence, injustice @ homes, offices, marketplace, malls, public transports, roads. Already bored?

Teachers playing truant during exams! Have an egg with some jam. Better than traffic jam!

Doctors and bank employees following suit. Two hoot!

Transporters making their presence felt. Svelte!

Shenanigans of our men-in-black and of those who wield the microphone! Gone deaf stone?

Neglect and pull down achievers - as a society. Demo-crazy. It's the beauty of crab mentality!

"Chai-pani" to a peon, clerk, nurse, ward boy, waiter or coolie? Hilly Billy.

Paying hefty donations to 'book' a seat inengineering/medical/management institutes? Puss in Boots!

No tickets issued yet money changes hands. Sheer magic - sleight of hand!

When gender determination, infanticide and female foeticide happens? Two pence.

Of dowry and bride burning. No whining. India is shining.

Of rape and molestation - even by close relatives? Theory of relativity, silly! It's all in the jeans you see!

So, even babies, toddlers, the middle aged and the elderly also "asked for it"? You bet, they did!

Swayamvar ahoy! Cast(e) away.

I could go on and on and on.

If honey is kept on someone's tongue is it possible that s/he will not taste it? After all, why 'waste' it?

Chanakya – the Yugpurush (the timeless man) of Kaliyug - the age in which we live - warned against collecting taxes in large proportions. Governments should collect taxes like a honeybee - said he - which sucks just the right amount of honey from the flower so that both can survive.

There's much to learn from the birds, the bees and the flowers, G!

"One must know the nature of beast before trying to tame it," said the wise Mullah Nasruddin. To gain from his wisdom we should be keen.

Periodic brouhaha, TV debates = noise pollution. People with 'funds' should be induced to do something good for society. No hoity toity. No one-time grant. No rant.

Partner with remote villages and hamlets - build and maintain clean toilets for the residents and schools.

Build hospitals/health centers and sponsor the equipments, remuneration and medicines.

Provide fruits, milk and a boiled egg - daily - for the schoolchildren and nourishment for pregnant women.

"They" can do all this and more in their name or that of their forefathers'. The "costs" aren’t great but the benefits are. I swear!

Photograph: Participants at an 'anti-corruption rally' in India. Pic. courtesy link.

Somewhere @ Nowhere by Nikesh Rathi

2011-07-17T12:53:00.004+05:30

This is the debut novel of Nikesh Rathi, and he has chosen to take the road less traveled vis-à-vis the spate of new writers who have presented themselves for us to sink our teeth into. Thankfully it steers clear of an ill timed, ill developed and thoroughly clichéd love story or an almost love story, that has sadly become de rigueur.

Somewhere @ Nowhere also made it to the Vodafone Crossword Book Award 2011 Longlist – which must have made Nikesh Say Cheese!

The Storyline: The protagonist, Aditya Khanna, is quite a thoroughbred - IIT-IIM-Investment Banker - with an enviable paycheck. But then as all good things in life come to an end, the bubble burst. His company filed for bankruptcy and the dreaded pink slip appeared out of the blue. Instead of going right back to job hunting and diligently scanning various job sites, Aditya decides to embark on a journey - to discover India, no less. But will this journey also lead to self-discovery and clear the cobwebs in his head - that is the crux.

No, he wasn't drawing inspiration from the eventual experience of the supreme joy of full enlightenment by Prince Siddhartha - THE Buddha. You see Aditya was merely one of the many Corporate Buddhas *grin*

But nonetheless he did hope to reap a rich harvest - that of clarity of thought and a perspective on life's meaning and purpose.

Accompanied by a friend - Ashish - yet another victim of the pink slip, they embarked on an unplanned journey, passing through holy places - Haridwar, Rishikesh - en route to the Himalayas, the jungles of Orissa, remote hamlets, villages and small towns, the IT city - Bangalore, pleasure haven - Goa, et al.

Traveling light, without laptop or cell phone - they journey by rickety buses, general compartments of local trains, rented bikes and on foot, staying in small nondescript hotels and lodges, befriending strangers, meeting people they would have never met before, drinking tea from roadside shacks and eating food that would have been labeled "unhygienic" many times over.

Braving the heat and biting cold, unexpected rains, staying unshaved and unwashed - they encounter villagers - farmers and simple hill folks, truck drivers, hotel helpers and caretakers. And a vast number of sadhus! Claiming to have supposedly 'renounced the world' - they go about smearing themselves with ash, emulating the third of the "Trinity", smoking chillums and demanding money or trying to think of ways to make some. This particular group or industry has never put a freeze on hiring even during the bitter Himalayan winters. And they have never been pink-slipped! Rather they are pink slip proof.

Incidentally, this ancient Vedic faith has always stressed upon "Karma Yog" or the "discipline of action". It has never advocated 'renunciation of the world'. Instead urged us to always do our duty or uphold 'Dharma', to the best of our ability - on righteous principles. Of the four paths to realization, Karma Yog is the science of achieving perfection in action. To quote Shri Krishna's immortal words from the Bhagavad-Gita (Chapter II-47):

"Karmanye Vadhikaraste Ma Phaleshu Kadachana,

Ma Karma Phala Hetur Bhurmatey Sangostva Akarmani."

Meaning: "Thy business is with the action only, never with its fruits; so let not the fruits of action be thy motive, nor be thou to inaction attached."

How simple and how relevant, even today! That the Bhagavad-Gita is universally renowned as the jewel of India's spiritual wisdom, it is because of Karma Yog.

Always do your best without expecting the results and you will be happy. Such simple words, yet so profound! No? Sadly spiritual texts and discourses by Gurus these days do not emphasize on doing one's duty. But then earlier we had Munis, Rishis, Maharshis, Devarshis, Brahmarshis, Paramhamsas and Avadhutas. Now we have self styled 'Sadhus', assorted 'Babas' and countless 'Mithyanands'. What a climbdown!

But I digress.

Which of the people that Aditya and Ashish encounter are happy? Who are the ones that have been able to reconcile themselves with their circumstances? What is faith and what role does it play? You will come across these and some more... in bits and pieces in the book.

Suggestions: However their encounters with the truck driver (Harvinder), the nameless sadhu and the hotel helper cum caretaker Robert... make for an interesting read, though I feel there was scope for some more insightful narrative about the sense of vastness, mystery, power and the critical ingredients of our lives.

Certain events and encounters like the one in the jungles of Orissa (now Odisha) are underdone. There is definitely scope for some more content there and the characters, their situations and their conversations could have been better fleshed out. In the absence of which, the emotions that the author would have liked to convey have not come through that well. They seem somewhat barricaded, so to speak.

Ditto Malti. In her case, the metamorphosis is a little too rushed. She is vulnerable, hurt, lonely, shelter less, scared and scarred, and all of this can ebb or be overcome only gradually. We miss that process, that journey.

Even the co-explorer - Ashish - becomes irrelevant, a mere 'tag along' after a while. Additional dialogue to him and more conversation between him, Aditya, the nameless sadhu, Harvinder and Robert would have helped. It may have provided a different perspective. Some conflicts too would have been refreshing... say between Aditya and Ashish.

The author has chosen the impersonal 'telling' route over the more interesting dialogue or conversation format. It's best not to 'tell' your readers what your characters feel. Show them through action. But that's very hard to do, and takes practice. Ruskin Bond excels in this genre but then he is a class act. It's so much easier to 'tell' how the characters feel instead... but it 'takes away' too and gets monotonous after a while, leaving the reader unable to postpone the niggling feeling that the author was perhaps in a hurry to complete the book and maybe, just maybe had a page limit in mind too.

The production quality of the book is average but the book jacket cover is quite attractive. However I feel that the titles of the chapters (e.g., 'Captured', 'The Escape', 'Lost Somewhere', ‘Still a rat?’ etc.) reveal too much and rob off the charm and suspense of the following pages. It somewhat dilutes the interest. Not done.

At only 144 pages, Somewhere @ Nowhere makes for a breezy read. The chapters are short... much like the pages of a diary and give the impression that one is reading the book faster than one actually is. However, some tighter editing to prune out some versatile and advanced filler words and phrases like: "and all", "or something", "stuff" and doing away with the one obvious flaw: the somewhat prosaic and sometimes rather clunky writing... would have greatly helped in making the readers' journey smoother.

With the kind of events weaved into the narrative, a lot more could have been done. With the right mix: some taut drama, conflicts, surprise elements, a few heart tugging moments and by cutting out the deadwood - filler words/phrases and perhaps the urge for a quick closure, this one could have turned out to be a very good read. A very good read in it's own right - a much meatier, insightful and thought provoking read.

My rating: I am going with a 3/5 for Nikesh Rathi's debut novel. It is not a run-of-the-mill story and stands out among the deluge of dreck camouflaged as romantic novels in our bookstores these days and at just Rs. 150/ is light on the wallet too.

However, Somewhere @ Nowhere should have been a longer journey with some more content added to it. There was ample scope for it too. But, for a debut author it is a fairly good attempt. I would say that the book held a lot more promise than it actually delivered. Whether it contains some bits and pieces from the author's own life... my guess is as good as yours. But I feel Nikesh can do much better. It may be a good idea to revisit the storyline before the book gets into its second or perhaps third print run. It will feel complete then.

Details of Book: Somewhere @ Nowhere/ Author: Nikesh Rathi/ Pages: 144/ ISBN: 812231130X/ ISBN-13: 9788122311303, 978-8122311303/ Publishing Date: 2010/ Publisher: Cedar Books - Pustak Mahal/ Binding: Paperback/ Price: Rs. 150/ (Rs. 143 on Flipkart)

Photograph: The book jacket cover of Somewhere @ Nowhere. Picture courtesy: link.

There is no greater reward than this :)

2011-07-05T14:13:00.005+05:30

The greatest compliments are unexpected indeed.

A schoolteacher - Lekshmy - wrote the following lines after reading my review of "Ruskin Bond's Book of Nature":

Dear Roshmi Sinha,
This is an amazing review. I am a school teacher and I was wondering how to inspire my students to read more than their English textbooks. In my English class I read the lines from your review and showed it to them. They were pretty much excited. So I typed three short stories of Ruskin Bond and uploaded it in the school website. They all enjoyed it very much. Now they all are fans of Ruskin Bond. Thank you very much for inspiring my students. I wanted you to know that you were the key that unlocked the door of a wonderful world for eighty two students.
Lekshmy

Her note made my year! I felt humbled and enthused beyond words. It was wonderful to know that the magical mystique of Bond's beautiful words and the lilting charm of his prose have lost none of their appeal. And the children are indeed fortunate to have a teacher like Lekshmy. No?

However, I also felt that she shouldn't be thanking me. She should thank Ruskin Bond instead - for writing such charming stories filled with warmth, gentle humour, adventure and serene wisdom - and for bringing such joy to our lives.

Therefore, I have taken the liberty to share his address with them and hopefully they will write to him - soon. All his 82 young fans! Wouldn't that be super exciting!

As for the master storyteller - he really is a class act!

I am now reading his Roads to Mussoorie and will be reading Landour Days next.

Photograph: Pic courtesy: link.

The All Bengali Crime Detectives by Suparna Chatterjee

2011-06-19T14:23:00.017+05:30

Two Thumbs Up!

I have been reading about this book in the blogosphere and even discovered that the author had a book reading @ Crossword - which I missed due to prior commitments. So, when I finally managed to go to Crossword (quite by chance) - I started looking for a copy... and found it too. I read the back cover and then began flipping through the pages. On page 11 itself I came across "Roko, hum idhar girega." This is classic Hingali - meaning that the said person wants to get off/get down at that particular spot/place. (Note: I opted for 'Hingali' instead of 'Bendi' for obvious reasons *wink*)

Needless to say I was hooked!

ABCD is not just a detective novel or crime fiction. It gives you a glimpse of the celebrated 'City of Joy' - Calcutta or rather a word picture of the sights and scenes of Kolkata, and Bengali culture - that is guaranteed to make a smile appear on your lips. And I mean no disrespect. Even if you haven't visited Kolkata, this book will transport you there.

You get to read about the 'paaras' (much more than what is usually meant to be a middle class neighbourhood or locality), the euphoria and intense rivalry brought about by 'Durga Pujo' (which coincides with 'Dussehra' in the North and 'Dassara' in the South of the Vindhyas.) Infact, the unabashed one-upmanship and brinkmanship displayed during the pujo would even make the fifty-year "Cold War" appear very thanda! Added to this are the subplots that involve finding a perfect match for a "wheatish-complexioned girl" and a one-sided love story. And of course the sacred ritual of going to the 'bajar' (bazaar or market, Bengalis usually refer to this as: "marketing korte jachchi") to buy vegetables and fish - Ilish maach (Hilsa), chingri maach (prawns), etc - with the 'bajarer tholi' (the nylon shopping bag) in hand. This bag is exclusively used for this very purpose and it is the unavoidable 'duty' of the man of the house to go to the bajar whenever required. And somehow Sundays are considered to be the best and most appropriate days to be spent in the bajar, tholi in hand, haggling over maach (fish), begetables (vegetables) and kochi panthar mangsho (mutton culled from a young goat). The whole experience is nothing like you would have seen/read/come across anywhere else, I tell you!

Now, here is the crime bit: In a middle-class Calcutta neighbourhood, the lives of four recently retired men take an unexpected turn when they stumble upon a crime and become detectives.

The crime in question is the sudden disappearance (rather robbery) of a rare diamond - the size of a full-grown grape - and supposedly belonging to the Maharani (Queen) of Garhwal... from right under the noses of retired Joj Saheb Akhil Banerjee, Bibhuti Bose, Chandan Mukherjee and Debdas Guha Roy aka 'Chaar Padabi' or 'the four surnames'. In short: ABCD.

Why 'Chaar Padabi'? Well 'padabi' (or podobi) in Bangla means 'surname'. And Deb, Das, Guha and Roy are all independent or distinct Bengali surnames!

The crime does get solved eventually. But the build up to the solution is great fun... and includes the delightful anecdote about the Bhim Nag created 'ledikeni' - an ubiquitous round dark sweet - deep-fried balls of semolina, milk, khoya and sugar syrup stuffed with saffron and elaichi (cardamom) and fried in ghee to attain a rich brown colour. It is partially like a pantua and partially like a langcha (a specialty from Shaktigarh in the Bardhaman/Burdwan District of West Bengal) but very different in taste from them. This is quite apt 'coz no account of 'Bangaliana' (Bengali food culture) is complete without 'Bangalir Roshobodh' (the legendary sweet tooth of the Bengalis.)

Therefore, it's no wonder that the Bengalis have also come up with the delicately named "lobongo lotika" and the "mishti shingara" - small samosas filled with sweetened reduced milk that go straight from the wok into a syrup wash. The limitless possibilities that the samosa offers - the opportunities to play with tastes and textures; size and seasonings, fragrances and fillings - has inspired cooks down the ages. And the results are fascinating, often surprising, but always tasty. But none could think of the "mishti shingara" - the sweet singara - before the bhojon roshik Bangali, who is willing to undertake an epicurean voyage anytime. Bite into the Bengali shingara and the light puff pastry melts away to release the flavours of subtly seasoned potatoes or cauliflower teamed with green peas or groundnuts. Ah bliss!

But I digress.

ABCD is the debut novel of author Suparna Chatterjee, a Bengali, currently staying in Bengaluru and she is undoubtedly thrilled with the reader response. "I'm indebted to Enid Blyton, Agatha Christie and Satyajit Ray. They planted in me a burning desire to become a sleuth, but I followed their path and did the next best thing!" she says.

There is no doubt about that. Yours truly for one could detect the unmistakable flavour of the Feluda novels by the versatile genius Satyajit Ray in this book. The demeanour and methods adapted by Akhil Banerjee is reminiscent of the supersleuth Feluda (perhaps unknown to the author herself). You can even detect a whiff of Lalmohan Babu aka Jatayu in one of the characters. I will not tell you which one, you tell me.

One is also reminded of Potla, Habul and gang - the popular bunch of good-for-nothings from Bengali literature - who are known for their many escapades - especially while organising Saraswati Pujo - when in reality they have bid goodbye forever to the Goddess of Learning - from their hearts and minds. Yet their enthusiasm is undiminished and so is their diligence and they manage to pull off the pujo (on a grand scale of course) despite empty coffers and very little time at hand. All due to Potla's patent ingenuity.

Even something as innocuous as Saraswati Pujo can lead to intense competition. Just watch the superb Soumitra Chatterjee-Aparna Sen starrer "Basanto Bilap" - to get the drift. This movie had great casting and superlative performances even by the members of the supporting cast with such stalwarts as Robi Ghosh, Chinmoy Roy, Anup Kumar and Shyam Laha making their presence felt. So much so that it is difficult to imagine that they were not the main actors/stars. Ah... the good old days! It is a small wonder then that old is gold. I wish to see the satraps of Bollywood remake some of the gems of Bengali cinema - without diluting the essence of the story - so that they get a larger viewership and movie buffs can enjoy some quality cinema and entertainment instead of the tacky fare dished out inspite of several crores wasted on them. E.g., The delightful "Chupke Chupke" starring Dharmendra, Amitabh Bachchan and Sharmila Tagore was a remake of the Uttam Kumar-Madhabi Mukherjee starrer "Chhadobeshi", and the equally enjoyable Sanjeev Kumar-Moushumi Chatterjee starrer "Angoor" was a remake of yet another Bengali classic - the Uttam Kumar-Sabitri Chattopadhyay-Bhanu Bandopadhyay starrer "Bhranti Bilash". I hear SRK is re-remaking "Angoor". Lets see.

Even the Hrishikesh Mukherjee directed Rajesh Khanna-Jaya Bhaduri starrer "Bawarchi" (1972) was inspired by the Tapan Sinha helmed "Golpo Holeo Shotti" (1966) with Robi Ghosh, Bhanu Bandopadhyay, Chaya Debi and other powerhouse actors in the cast. Needless to say, the original was cinematically far superior. This Tapan Sinha classic is a mind-blowing classic - a non-convoluted drama with a special message. It is sparkling, real, a slice of life and is in black and white, a tint that makes old films even more enjoyable.

But I digress again.

In ABCD we have the usual bunch of para bratulas - Partho, Somen, Poltu, Bhombol, Bappa and Jishu - headed by the able Biplabda. Biplabda reminds us of the great Bengali author Narayan Gangopadhyay's creation Tenida of "Charmurti", Potoldanga and "de la grandi mephistopheles, yak yak!" fame. But I have a feeling that the intense rivalry over Durga Pujo is not settled yet, and the one-sided love story is inconclusive too. Therefore, I am waiting for the sequel to "The All Bengali Crime Detectives". Eagerly. [Note on Charmurti: Tenida and gang, the others being: Kyabla, Pyalaram and Habul.]

BTW Bengalis have a patented word for 'para bratulas' - the unmatched "Rockbaj". It is not to be confused with the macho 'Rocky'. Bujhechen? And the unfriendly neighbourhood bully is the "parar mastan".

If I were to elucidate about Durga Pujo and what it means to Bengalis - "Probashi Bangali(s)" [Bengalis who stay a few grass fields away from Bengal; may be in Delhi, Karnataka, Jharkhand, Orissa, Assam or thousands of miles away in New York, Tokyo, London and Berlin], "Bangal(s)" [Bengali folks whose ancestors trace back to East Bengal, present Bangladesh], "Ghoti(s)" [Bengali folks who are originally from West Bengal] and "Bagh(s)" [offspring from mixed marriages between "Bangals" and "Ghotis" - conveniently derived from the "Ba" of "Bangal" and "Gh" of "Ghoti"] - this post will become a mile long, if not longer.

In every middle class locality (paara) a "Pujo Committee" would swing into action every year, sometimes the choice of office bearers would become so politicized that one almost felt that soon the RAF or the elite Black Cat Commandos may have to be called in - to restore peace among the community members. The fierce parental rivalry regarding the children selected for solo performances or lead roles were an unfailing annual event too. Ma Durga and her four offspring could bring out the worst in some and unmask many too, or so it seemed. I remember how the neighbourhood aunties (paarar Kakima[s], Mashima[s], Pishima[s] and Jyethima[s]) waddled about and strutted around like proud ducks and penguins and flashed menacing looks at competitors who till then were probably their offspring's best friends. Tension reigned supreme and everyone's BP climbed Mt. Everest. In retrospect, these incidents of intense rivalry and competition seemed amusing and juvenile. And rightly so!

However, in ABCD you do get a quick yet informative glimpse about how Durga Pujo came about. And till date I have not come across a more clearer definition of the Bengali term "Adda" - which is a way of life in Bengal and for the Bangalis - of all hues, shades and tints of colour, wherever they are. Bengalis have a fondness for debates and can indulge in conversations for hours. "Adda" is usually summarily translated/dismissed as "gossip" and not given its due courtesy/importance. This is sacrilege. Bengalis have an entirely different term for "gossip" which is "PNPC" - meaning "Poro Ninda Poro Chorcha". And "Adda" and "PNPC" cannot intermingle - there are clear lines and sessions for both.

Read ABCD to get a feel of the multi layered three-letter Bangla word - iye. It is short but not simple... filled with meanings, inner meanings, subtleties, possibilities, flavour and spice... and not always all things nice.

I wouldn't deliberate much on Rabindrasangeet - the songs of the great poet laureate Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore. The magical mystique of beautiful words powerfully strung together and resonating with mellifluous music is known as Rabindrasangeet. The bard's rich, diverse and vast literary oeuvre is virtually unmatched in the world. He was also a painter and a composer par excellence.

I have already elucidated a little about Bengali names and its socio-cultural significance. Do read up: Bhaalo Naam vs Daak Naam: What's in a name? (Part-I) and Bhaalo Naam vs Daak Naam: What's in a name? (Part-II).

My rating: The fresh and limpid writing style interspersed with humour and interesting tidbits of information is a readers delight. It pulls you into the narrative and keeps you engrossed throughout. Simple effective storytelling at its best!

The production quality of the book is pretty good while the book jacket cover is nicely done. It's colourful and instantly catches the eye.

I am going with a 4/5 for Suparna Chatterjee's debut novel... and awaiting her next book with high expectations - hopefully a sequel to ABCD.

Details of the book: The All Bengali Crime Detectives/ Author: Suparna Chatterjee/ Publisher: Rupa & Co./ Publishing date: January 1, 2011/ Language: English/ ISBN-10: 8129117827/ ISBN-13: 9788129117823, 978-8129117823/ Bookbinding: Paperback/ Price: Rs. 150 (Rs.90 on Flipkart)/ No. of pages: 192.

Photograph: The book jacket cover of "The All Bengali Crime Detectives". Picture courtesy: link.

Bhaalo Naam vs Daak Naam: What's in a name? (Part-II)

2011-06-15T13:38:00.003+05:30

You can read the 1st part: HERE.

Amusing it might be, but the fact remains that even the most aristocratic and influential Bengali bhadro mohila (lady) and bhadrolok (gentleman) alike would have an equally embarrassing daak naam at home. All the elders in the family apart from friends and neighbours would insist on addressing them by it... throughout their lives, irrespective of the time and place and the positions they may hold. In the Bengali movie 'Mouchak' the matinee idol of Bengali cinema Uttam Kumar had 'Kanchu' (a 'contrite face' as in 'mukhta kanchu-machu kora', like a puppy which has just chewed through your Mac cable) as his dak naam while the then upcoming actor Ranjit Mullick was called 'Pocha' (stale).

Outside of Kolkata, it is exceedingly difficult to explain why your mother or your pesky 'choto bone' or 'choto bhai' (younger sister or brother), 'Borda', 'Mejda', 'Shejda', 'Chhorda' or 'Bordi', 'Mejdi', 'Shejdi', 'Chhordi' (an assortment of older brothers and sisters) and even cousin [jyatuto/ khudtuto/ mamato/ pistuto - Dada(s), Bhai(s), Didi(s) and Bone(s)/ meaning: elder or younger brothers and sisters related from one's maternal or paternal side] is calling you Bumba, Jhontu or Piklu instead of Anirban, Tonmoy or Deeptesh. Or Tuku, Jhimli or Kutu instead of Deboleena, Mrinalini or Shayantanee. I personally knew a pair of sisters with the daak naam Kutu-Tuku.

For Bongo tonoy(s) and Bongo tonoya(s)/ lolona(s) nothing can be a bigger source of embarassment (or occasionally, pride) than the daak naam their parents have bestowed on them. There are instances where babies were named 'Teko' (baldy), 'Boka' (foolish), 'Kyabla' (unsmart), 'Hyabla' (foolish, dumb), 'Kaltu', 'Keltu' ('dark complexioned' in an unflattering manner) and 'Hego' (crappy, as in someone who is forever engaged in doing the 'big job') - ostensibly to protect them from the evil eye. Even 'Hippo' - for a particularly bonny baby. Male babies born in 1986 were nicknamed 'Zico' in the euphoria of the 1986 FIFA world cup. Later, babies received names like 'Zizou' and 'Ronaldo'. Much pride. This year many Messis, Robbens and Tevezes will be born in Kolkata. Some may be called 'DaVinci', 'Rafa' or 'Saina' as well.

Continuing with football and footballers - the Bengalis have truely heeded the great poet laureate Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore's exhortion "Dur-ke korile nikot, bondhu, porke korile, bhai". [tr: I bought him closer, who was at a distance; I made him my brother, who was an alien to me.] In short: Make others your own.

So, the Nigerian Footballer and ace Striker Cheema Okeri - who dominated the Calcutta soccer scene with his lethal goal scoring ability and played for the East Bengal Football Club (patronized by the "Bangals") from 1987 to 1990 - is just 'Cheemada' ("da" as in "Dada" or elder brother in Bangla) to "Bangals" and "Ghotis" alike.

In the good old days, in the interiors (of Bengal) names like Taempa, Boncha (means 'flat' as in a 'flat nose'), Pocha (meaning stale), Panchu (a crooked face, resembling the number 5 in Bangla - 'Bangla-r paanch'), Ponchu, Bhuto (alluding to a ghost), Hulo (a tom-cat is called 'hulo bedal' or plain 'hulo' in Bengal), Pyancha (meaning 'one who looks or behaves like an owl'), Khandu and Khanda (slang for a thick nose, as in 'khanda naak' and a sound thrashing as in 'khendiye biday koro') - for boys and Khendi (feminine version of 'Khanda'), Penchi (feminine of 'Pyancha'), Taempi (feminine of 'Taempa'), Bunchi (feminine of 'Boncha'), Khanto (meaning 'stop') - for girls were the norm. And girls thought nothing about having Bhalo Naam(s) like: Annakali and Rokkhekali while boys were lovingly called Bhuthnath and Pyancharam. These names would even become the identity of their parents, especially their mothers. Khandu's mother would be referred to by all and sundry as "Khandu-r Ma" while Hulo's mother will automatically become "Hulo-r Ma". And a couple would refer to or address each other by the same names quite comfortably, e.g., "Hulo-r Ma" and "Hulo-r Baba". It probably hasn't changed much. [Note: the other names are untranslatable.]

Now, the daak naam is the new bhaalo naam. E.g., Tupur and Tapur Chatterjee, the well-known twins from Bengal who are also famous models. Btw tapur-tupur denotes the sound of trickling raindrops - as in "brishti pode tapur-tupur, naday elo baan". (Tr: the pitter-patter of raindrops brings the river into flood) [Note: To read the full lyrics and listen to the song: click on this link.]

Common names like: Indranil, Debojit, Subhashish, Debashish, Anirban and Dipankar can be found in every class, every office - practically everywhere. Almost every Debashish will have a brother named Subhashish and vice versa. Similarly all Dipankar(s) will have Subhankar(s); all Debojit(s) will have Subhojit(s); all Debojyoti(s) will have Shubhojyoti(s); every Alok would have an Ashok and every Amol will have a Kamal for a brother. This was and is the norm. Similarly for the female of the Bengali species: Sudeshna, Debjani, Debarati, Gargi, Sonali, Mousumi, Moumita, Ananya, Lopamudra and Moonmoon are found in abundance - there is a very rich harvest of these names, so to speak.

Traditionally Bengalis would take great pride in naming their offspring with obscure, complicated, long and difficult names. Pundorikakkho, Pradyumno, Bibhutibhushan, Kshiteesh Chandro, Rudraneel, Arghyakamal, Archisman, Hara Shankar, Heramba Chandro, Arko Prabha, Bodhisattva - for boys and Indrayani, Haimabati, Anuranjini, Kuasha Kona, Konkaboti, Tilottama, Bhobotarini, Bhubanmohini, Mrinalini, Durgesh Nandini, Kapala Kundala - names which sounded like characters from the mythology and epic tales... and perhaps should have been allowed to remain there. They were difficult to spell and quite impossible to pronounce for everyone else... including the bearer of these names - especially when he or she was little. Poor things, how they would struggle with an uncooperative tongue! Talk about non-cooperation movement of a different kind!

Imagine being burdened with a bhalo naam like Kshiteesh Chandro Pakrashi, Pundorikakkho Purokayashtho or Raj Lokkhi Patitundi!

Thankfully, the culture of having the choicest tongue twisters for a name is gradually fading and minimalist contemporary names with lesser syllables are in vogue now. The "aantel" (intellectual) Bangalis have finally realized that their world is much larger than Kolkata and/or West Bengal... and therefore to make a 'name' for themselves, they have to opt for modern and user friendly ones. However, these modern names invite trouble of a different kind. A boy named 'Sampan' (a small flat-bottomed Chinese skiff propelled by oars or a scull), which was meant to be 'artistic and romantic', may find that it has been conveniently changed to 'Sampanna' meaning 'affluent' - by sundry folks without so much as a by your leave. 'Arijit' (vanquisher of foes) miraculously metamorphoses into 'Harijeet' or the Punjabi sounding 'Harjeet' (must put this down to an overabundance of 'democracy'!) while 'Tibro' (meaning 'fast and furious') is compelled to go through various permutations and combinations, like: Tibr, Tibre, Tivra and eventually settle for 'Teev'. And the classic 'Kokonad' ('red lotus' in Sanskrit) is reduced to Koke, Koko and even Kokonut. All in the name of convenience! Just like 2-minute Maggi noodles.

Therefore, Satya Sundar Bose becomes Sata Bose. Sabyasachi Sen is Saby Sen, Rananjay Sarkar is Ronny Sarkar, Padmalochan Karmakar is Paddy Kar, Sushmita Sen is Sush, Suchismita is Suchi, Ipshita is Ips, Suchorita is Sucho, Vatsayan or Srivatsa is Vats, Shyam Sundar is Sam or Sammy, Lopamudra is Lops, and so on and so forth.

Very few people know that the matinee idol of Bengal - 'Mahanayak' Uttam Kumar - was born as Arun Kumar Chatterjee, while the ethereal screen goddess of Bengal - Suchitra Sen - was actually Roma Dasgupta. The legendary actress, who has for over three decades been living in Garbosque seclusion, was "Krishna". Yes, that was her daak naam. The screen legend even refused to come out of her seclusion and accept the prestigious Dada Saheb Phalke Award in August 2006 - presented by the president of India.

Samyamoy Bandopadhyay won't ring a bell with anyone unless they are told that it was the bhaalo naam of the peerless Bhanu Bandopadhyay aka Bhanu Banerjee - the grand old man of Bangla comedy. The man was unputdownable in plays conducted over the radio and brilliant in creating satirical jokes with a political tinge. Similarly, veteran actor and current 'Feluda' - Sabyasachi Chakraborty - is "Benu(da)" while the versatile actor, funny man and 'Tenida' - Chinmoy Roy - is "Chinuda". The suffix "da" (short for "Dada") means elder brother in Bengali, not the lumpen elements of aamchi Mumbai, mind you! The talented Robi Ghosh and sometime 'Jatayu' was actually Robi Ghosh Dastidar and the equally talented, popular actor-comedian and yet another 'Jatayu' - Anup Kumar - was born as Satyen Das.

But nobody would like to be named as 'Nondo Ghosh', 'Gouri Sen' and 'Khagen' in Bengal. 'Coz it is "Joto dosh Nondo Ghosh" [tr: Nondo Ghosh is the universal scapegoat]. Unexplainable, but I guess 'Nondo Ghosh' here represents the nameless, faceless and powerless 'aam aadmi' aka 'mango man' who is to be blamed whenever something goes wrong. Or who has to shell out higher taxes every year for the government (consisting of numerous 'humble servants' of the aam-aadmi) - to announce 'free' mid day meal schemes, 'free' rice distribution ceremonies and sundry other sops to fleece the same aam-aadmi.

Even our Income Tax guys don't like to tax their brawn and brains... after the 'taxing' job they do.

And it is "Lage taka debe Gouri Sen" [tr: When money is needed Gouri Sen would provide]. 'Gouri Sen' here is a rich male businessman from 18th century Bengal. Now-a-days it is the hapless 'aam-aadmi'. No prizes for guessing!

As for 'Khagen', it is: "Mere baaper naam Khagen kore debo!" [tr: Will beat you so hard that your dad would be renamed as Khagen]. I have no clue about the story behind this idiom, hence fail to understand the significance of the name 'Khagen' here. However the only positive is that son's of real Khagens don't have to worry too much. I knew of a Khagen and his son had no worries of any physical harm whatsoever.

Bengali names are extremely gender sensitive - male and female names are different, irrespective of their meaning and are generally differentiated while spelling and pronouncing them. For the uninitiated, Sudipto (M) and Sudipta (F) have a world of difference, ditto Aparajito (M) and Aparajita (F). Some names might be treated as feminine in other parts of the country, but Bengalis follow strict traditional naming patterns/customs. Thus, 'Suman' (meaning 'flower' and usually a girl's name in the North of the Vindhyas) is a masculine name among Bengalis (Sumon) with Sumana/Sumona being its feminine form! A Bengali girl will never be called 'Kamal' (meaning 'lotus') but 'Kamala' (meaning 'orange hued') with an additional 'a' in the end. I don't blame Indians from other states... who fail to capture the subtle difference in the pronunciation of Rajarshi (M) and Rajyashri (F) and equate it with Rajarshree or Rajshree (F) instead. It is unfair but unavoidable.

So, next time someone says - what's in a name? A lot actually, if you are a Bengali!

Talking of Bengalis and unusual names, I came across this bit. Let me share it here. Someone's father was named "Gandhi Sircar" by his grandfather (not sure whether it was his maternal grandpa aka 'Dadu' or the paternal one i.e., 'Thakurda') in the frenzy of nationalism - post our independence in order to honour the Father of the nation, of course. So this gentleman - "Gandhi Sircar" - grew up to be a "man with no name" (much like his silver screen idol Clint Eastwood in his westerns) and had 2 "surnames" (podobis) instead!! This led to rather amusing situations including 2 hotel rooms being booked for him - one for Mr. Gandhi and the other for Mr. Sircar! Howzzat!

(Concluded)

Photograph: The renowned Bengali poet, novelist and short story writer Premendra Mitra's creation - the inimitable 'Ghanada' [also 'Ghonada']. Picture courtesy: facebook.

Bhaalo Naam vs Daak Naam: What's in a name? (Part-I)

2011-06-11T21:50:00.005+05:30

A Bengali has two names: bhaalo naam (good name or formal name) and daak naam (pet name or nick name). Those who have read or watched Jhumpa Lahiri's "The Namesake" should be familiar with this concept. Whenever a Bengali baby is born, s/he is not immediately bestowed with a bhaalo naam. The search for a bhaalo naam is a ritual in itself. It is deliberated upon by all and sundry with generous contributions from the innumerable uncle-aunties (Kaku-Kakimas, Jyethu-Jyethimas, Meshomoshai-Mashimas, Pishomoshai-Pishimas), grand parents (Dadu-Didimas, Thakurda-Thakumas), neighbours (pada-protibeshis), office colleagues (sohokormis) and friends (bondhu-bandhab). Even the maid (kajer-lok, the male of the species is ingeniously called 'combined hand'), friend's neighbours, colleague's friends, neighbour's colleagues and finally the family Gurudeb - the great and revered 'Baba' or 'Swamiji'. Till such time a suitable bhaalo naam is collated, analyzed and agreed upon... the Bengali baby is addressed by his/her numerous daak naam, which are quite phenomenal, so to speak.

Generally, Bengali boys are 'Babu' or 'Khoka' (small boy) and Bengali girls 'Khuki' (small girl) or 'Budi' (old woman) to their parents... with even Babloo, Babai, Tutun, Toton, Piku, Gogol, Bumba, Papai, Tatai, Chotku, Joy, Jeet, Tata (with a soft 't'), Gogol, Pintu, Montu, Raja (for boys) and Mumpi, Shona, Moni, Mona, Mimi, Titir, Tuktuk, Tultul, Bulbul, Tustushi, Jhumpa, Tumpa, Reena, Rinku (for girls) making it to the popularity list. Even Tinku... not to be confused with Tinku Jiya!

Now, daak naam(s) are more character oriented and heavily dipped in love, affection, and creativity. Therefore they generally do not have any bearing with the bhaalo naam whatsoever. It is also important to understand that the number of pet names a Bengali baby has, is directly proportional to the number of relatives and neighbours his/her family is blessed with or are in good terms with. So a Bengali boy can be 'Babu' or 'Babushona' to his mom (Ma), 'Babai' to his dad (Baba or Bapi), 'Dadubhai' to his grand dad (maternal: Dadu and paternal: Thakurda) and grand mom (maternal: Dida, Didima, Didu or Dimma and paternal: Thakuma or Thamma) but can be called 'Papa' or 'Papu' by his friends, 'Gola', 'Gablu' or 'Motu' by his cousins and 'Tendulkar' by his cricket crazy neighbour. Errr... on second thoughts may be 'Zico' or 'Pele' or even 'Garincha' and 'Kaka'.

Read the friendly discussion on football in ABCD (debutant author Suparna Chatterjee's novel "The All Bengali Crime Detectives") - you'll know how much clued into football an average Bengali is (was?) - even though there were/are hardly any grounds or place to play the beautiful game in Kolkata! There was a time when a game of football between Mohun Bagan (supported by the "Ghotis") and East Bengal (supported by the "Bangals") would bring the whole city to a standstill. Roads would be deserted while offices would register thin attendance... people having somehow succumbed to all sorts of diseases on that very day. Just watch the grand old man of Bangla comedy Bhanu Bandopadhyay's - "Personal Assistant" - where his friend (played by the superb yet ever neglected actor Tarun Kumar) comes up with 'half-cholera' as an excuse for Bhanu's absence from work! But hospitals and nursing homes would strangely not be flooded with patients; rather they too would wear a deserted look... with the doctors and other medical staff having summarily done the Houdini act.

[Note: Ghotis: Bengali folks who are originally from West Bengal. Bangals: Bengali folks whose ancestors trace back to East Bengal, present Bangladesh.]

The prices of Chingri maach (prawns, especially 'golda chingri' or tiger prawns and not 'kucho chingri' or shrimps) and Ilish maach (hilsa) would fluctuate according to the fortunes of the two clubs in question. The "Ghotis" patronized the chingri maach and were reassured of their true blue, unadulterated "Ghotiness" only by it, while the "Bangals" attained nirvana courtesy the Ilish maach. And till date only the "Bangals" know how to negotiate their way through this tasty minefield of fish thorns... and they continue to guard this fish version of the Holy Grail like secret quite zealously. Either way, the fishermen and the fishmongers made merry whatever the outcome on the field. And the price of these fishes pole-vaulted to unimaginable heights, courtesy the humble football. 'Capitalism' in all its glory. No?

I would recommend connoisseurs of good cinema to watch the Uttam Kumar-Sabitri Chattopadhyay-Jaya Bhaduri-Jahar Roy starrer "Dhonni Meye". It is a laugh riot. Those who do not understand Bangla can watch this classic with English subtitles. Some of the punch and flavour may be lost or diluted... but that's inevitable. Just like the delectable rosogollar payesh and the rasmalai - but both are yummy in their own right. Right?

Not to forget the Uttam Kumar-Suchitra Sen-Bhanu Bandopadhyay-Chobi Biswas classic "Ora Thake Odhare". Even "Mohun Baganer Meye" (tr: Daughter of Mohun Bagan) is not to be missed. "East Bengal-er Chele" (tr: Son of East Bengal) tanked... which goes on to prove that content is King. However, it did not affect the price of the much sought after Ilish maach one teeny-weeny bit though and the "Bangals" continued to savour Ilish maach-bhath/ Bhapa Ilish ar Jhar Jhare Sada bhaat/ Doi Shorshe Ilish/ Ilish mach-er Matha/ Ilish mach-er Dim Bhaja, et al without a care in the world. Wonder why the keuketa (who's who) of Bangla cinema decided to stop making such great films and opted to become the cheap cousin of Bollywood instead. What a pity.

However, I read that off late some amends are being made and the recent "Bangal Ghoti Phataphati" with a stellar cast comprising of current heartthrobs Jishu Sengupta and Koel Mullick, the Bengali theater and cinema legend Manoj Mitra, veteran actor and funny man Chinmoy Roy, Kanchan Mullick, the versatile Sabyasachi Chakraborty, Sabitri Chattopadhyay, Madhabi Mukherjee, Subhasish Mukhopadhyay, Biplab Chattopadhyay, Rita Koyral, among others is pretty decent.

But I digress.

More often than not these pet names or nicknames can and have outshined the Bhalo Naam... forever.

Without them, Gauranga Chakraborty and Alokesh Lahiri would never have become Mithun(da) and Bappi(da) respectively. And Mahakshay Chakraborty too wouldn't have been 'famous' as Mimoh Chakraborty. What? Does Abhas Kumar Ganguly, Prabodh Chandra Dey or Nilanjana Lahiri ring any bell unless I tell you that those are the bhalo naam(s) of Kishore Kumar, Manna Dey and Jhumpa Lahiri respectively?

Many a time the dak naam has been more popular with famous Bengalis, e.g., renowned footballers Goshtho Pal and Chuni Goswamy are actually Goshtho Bihari Pal and Subimal Goswami respectively. Well known business magnate Swapan Sadhan Bose is Tutu Bose, Pancham(da) is music maestro Rahul Deb Burman, Reena(di) is Aparna Sen, and Manik(da) is the versatile genius Satyajit Ray - whose son, acclaimed film director Sandip Ray is almost always referred to as "Babu(da)".

Even in fiction "Jatayu" (after the mythological bird) is more popular than 'Lalmohan Ganguli' (the best-selling writer of cheap crime thrillers in Satyajit Ray's Feluda novels) while Feluda's 'satellite' Tapesh Ranjan Mitter is better known as "Topshe" (a kind of fish popular in Bengal - Topshe maach.)

Have you ever wondered what would have happened to the following iconic characters without their nicknames/pet names: 'Feluda' (Pradosh Chandro Mitter), 'Ghanada' (Ghanashyam Das), 'Tenida' (Bhojohori Mukherjee), 'Kyabla' (Kushal Mitra), 'Pyalaram' (Kamalesh Banerji) and 'Habul' (Swarnendu Sen)? Even 'Bantulda' and 'Keltuda'? What would have happened to the delightful pairs of 'Handa-Bhonda' and 'Nonte-Phonte' - if they were to be 'blessed' with a bhaalo naam?

The answer would be a collective "Shobbonash" (actual: Shorbonash, meaning 'utter disaster'). So, Thank god for small mercies!

Even 'Dada' has outshone Sourav Ganguly and 'Didi' is more endearing than the quite a mouthful Mamata Banerjee. No?

The intelligent and intellectual (aantel) Bengali is quite aware of current affairs, sports, new discoveries, technological advances and general knowledge… and all of that manifests itself in the names - bhaalo naam and daak naam included. Especially for their beloved offspring and an assortment of equally beloved nephews-nieces (Bhaipo-Bhaijhi[s], Bonpo-Bonjhi[s] and Bhagne-Bhagni[s]). Plus the numerous offspring of para-protibeshis and shohokormis, and friends of neighbours and colleagues. That way an average Bengali is more than charitable, you see. The result: babies and tiny tots answering to names like - Rocket, Biman (aeroplane), Faraday (the famous physicist) and Gama (the famous wrestler - The Great Gama - aka Pehelwan Gama/ Palowan Gama in Bengali). And of course Zico and Pele - after the two Brazilian magicians of the beautiful game.

Here are some of the most common daak naams from an earlier era: Potla, Poltu, Bhombol, Bhomla, Pocha, Panchu, Kanchu, Habul, Ghoton, etc - for boys and Tempi, Puchki, Tuni, Buni, Bunchki, Bunchi - for girls. Times have changed... and now-a-days they mostly sound like they have been imported. Sample this: Sonia, Sania, Rhea, Sana, Zinea - for girls and Mark, Neil, Ian, Ryan, Aryan, Pinto, Rocky, Remo, Vivan, Jason, etc - for boys. I am not sure about the export bit though.

(More later...)

Photograph: The one and only Tenida. Pic. courtesy: facebook.

Tête à tête with Charulata.

2011-06-08T16:09:00.009+05:30

Those of you who are cinema literate would be familiar with the name - Madhabi Mukherjee. She acted in and as Charulata - in the versatile genius Satyajit Ray's iconic film by the same name... and was once linked with the great Ray himself. A journalist (Shubhobroto Ghosh from The Telegraph, Calcutta, May 11, 2008) visits her home and finds that the former actress hasn't lost her sense of humour or her tart tongue.

I found this piece while trawling the net... and decided to re-post it here. It makes for an interesting read.

Some images defy age spots. One such enduring moment in cinema is that of Charulata, looking at the world outside her window with a pair of opera glasses. Sheathed in light and shadow, the bored young home-maker - Madhabi Mukherjee at her best - smiles as she traces the footsteps of a particularly rotund passerby.

Madhabi Mukherjee is not smiling right now. She is involved in a minor spat with the cleaning lady - though it is the latter, really, who has been holding forth in a shrill soprano. We have reached her middle class home in south Calcutta before time, and the actress is in a nightie. She grabs a housecoat and ushers me into the drawing room once the cleaning lady has departed with her broom and her tirade, and switches off the television.

"Can't watch all this," she says. "You know, every animal has its call - or daak, as we say. When these gyrating boys and girls sing on television, I always think, this is the human being's animal sound."

So what did one expect? That she'd be in a sari worn with the pallu draped in front, and in a blouse with elbow-length sleeves lined with lace, embroidering 'Home Sweet Home' on a framed piece of cloth? That she'd be, à la Greta Garbo, or nearer home, like the elusive Suchitra Sen, isolated from the world outside, cocooned in an unlit home and behind dark glasses?

She is none of that. Madhabi - over whom, legend has it, a top director once left home - is like anybody's aunt, though the eyebrows are still perfectly arched, and the toenails glossy. Her room is nicely messy, with magazines and books strewn over a divan.

The lounge is the only give-away that we are in the house of an actress who once ruled Bengali cinema. Awards and mementos line cupboard shelves while the walls display Madhabi in different times. One large painting is an artist's homage to Charulata - it depicts her in a scene from Satyajit Ray's award-winning film.

Forty-five years ago Madhabi first appeared in Ray's Mahanagar. A year later, in 1964, she acted in and as Charulata. For decades, there was speculation about her relationship with Ray, something that Madhabi, now a grandmother, no longer wishes to talk about.

"But let me say one thing. I acted with Satyajit-babu in three films, and Soumitra (Chatterjee) acted in 14 films directed by him. I am surprised that nobody ever said anything about that," she says.

Ray's widow Bijoya Ray's book on her life with the director, released in Calcutta on April 28, mentions without taking names a relationship that Ray had with one of his actresses, and the subsequent trauma that Bijoya went through. Bijoya Ray writes in Amader Katha, earlier serialised in Desh, that she felt let down because she thought the star was not up to the director’s standards.

Madhabi says she hasn't read the book. "What does it say," she asks, sounding both indifferent and curious. And then, after a pause, she says, "I have always believed that if you say something, you must speak out the whole truth. Or else, don't say anything at all."

At 66, Madhabi has oodles of charm, and a funny streak that pops up like a jack in the box. She lugs a packet of Pan Parag - a chewy tobacco - with her and eats some every now and then. "My doctor keeps scolding me. But I tell him that I can list a number of people who didn't drink or smoke but died of cancer."

Madhabi, unlike Sen who has been a recluse for the last many years, has been up and about. In 2001, she came out on the streets after the Trinamul Congress pitted her against chief minister Buddhadeb Bhattacharya for the Jadavpur assembly constituency.

Her political journey actually started with a fire at the Star Theatre in Calcutta in the 1990s. Madhabi, a former stage actress, led a campaign to rehabilitate those affected by the fire. She asked Marxist leaders Jyoti Basu and Bhattacharya for help - but it was Calcutta mayor Subrata Mukherjee who finally came to the aid of the artistes. "I had then told Subrata Mukherjee that I would do anything in return."

Mukherjee demanded his pound of flesh three months before the West Bengal election when he asked her to contest against the chief minister. "I counted till three under my breath - and said, Yes!"

She lost the election by 30,000-odd votes but Madhabi has no regrets about not making her mark in politics. "It is not a world that I would like to be in. As an artiste, I want to be in a beautiful world, not in an ugly one."

The actress does have a mild regret, though - and that's for failing to note recent changes in Hindi cinema. In the late sixties, Raj Kapoor wanted her to act in Mera Naam Joker. He waited for six months for her to say yes and then finally approached Simi. Then, some years ago, Pradeep Sarkar offered her a role in Parineeta. Madhabi turned it down, saying that she didn't act in Hindi films.

"In our days, we were rather uppity about Bengali cinema, which was so much more superior to Hindi films. But there has been a change, and one failed to grasp that Bengali cinema had long been overtaken by Hindi films."

When she joined the industry, Madhabi was about eight. Her parents separated as her family moved to Calcutta from Bangladesh. Madhabi - then known as Madhuri - lived with her mother. "Our financial situation was such that I had to work. So I started acting in plays," she says. Her first roles in cinema were in Dui Beyaai and Kankantala Light Railway in 1950. She was given the name Madhabi when she was introduced as a lead actress in Mrinal Sen's Baishey Shravan (1960).

Then one day Ray sent her a message saying he wanted to meet her. Madhabi wasn't sure if he was serious about giving her a role. She went to meet him reluctantly - and only after the crew offered her the taxi fare. "We talked for a while, and then he said, okay we'll get back to you. To me, it sounded suspiciously like what you'd expect the father of a groom to say to the girl's family if he wasn't keen on the match."

But Ray did get in touch - and sent Madhabi a script of Mahanagar. Later, of course, there was Charulata, and then Kapurush in 1965. Ray never worked with her after that.

Madhabi also worked with the other Bengali giant - Ritwik Ghatak - in the 1962 film Subarnarekha. Ghatak went back to her with another script, but - or so goes the story among cinema buffs - Madhabi advised him to cut down on his drinking. A furious Ghatak stormed out of the house, apparently kicking her pet Pomeranian on the way.

"They - Ray and Ghatak - were both immensely talented. But Ghatak lacked temperance, which was really unfortunate," she rues.

In a self-deprecating manner, Madhabi talks about being both busy and lonely. "This is the problem of a mother whose children have grown up," says the actress, who lives in a flat by herself but regularly visits her husband, former actor Nirmal Kumar, who resides elsewhere in the city. She talks about her two daughters and their concern about her rising sugar levels. "I know walking is the best exercise for me, but I am such an 'eminent' person," she says, indicating the quote marks, "that whenever I go for a walk people stop me and say, Please come in and sit!"

But she keeps herself busy, she says. She is on the board of Prasar Bharati, and is planning to direct a film. And then there is a long-forgotten autobiography that she may well take up again.

So what will it be? A story that tells all, or nothing at all? Or were those famous last words?

Picture: Courtesy link.

Ek 2G Ke Liye!

2011-05-31T15:41:00.003+05:30

In the 80's it was Ek Duuje Ke Liye. Now Kamal Haasan and Rati Agnihotri have moved into middle age and cannot dance around trees. Oh fish! But we have a bigger and better alternative! So, don't you be pensive. Errr... how big? 1.76 lakh crores and counting! Bounty hunting!

It is time to Ek 2G ke liye. Starring Raja and Kani. Where's the money, honey?

The cast also includes sundry Dee Yem Kay family members. With a tearjerker performance put up by the family patriarch! As for the rival arch... Amma dekh, ah dekh tera... errr whatever... bigda jaaye. I said Amma... and not Mamma Mia. Mind it!

Tihar jail. Dabur Amla Kesh Tail. Both give you: Ghane Mulayam Kaale Baal, Khile Khile Matwale Baal. How? Arre kesh tail hai re baba! As for the former... no Biran Kedi! That makes for a comfortable stay. And while the sun shines make hay. The aam-jaanta will continue to go to the Temple, Church, etc and bray.

Raja has gone to Tihar with band baaja baaraat. Kya baat? Arre... he has finally got the qualification that was missing in his Résumé. Which one? Tan tana tan. Time spent in jail. Otherwise a Neta is an epic fail. No national stature you see. Even though one may be very bisi.

Poor Kani. Perhaps had to be the fall guy errr gal... for papa dearest. While he says that a conspiracy has been hatched against him and the K family from Kanyakumari to Mt. Everest. So, conspiracy has now scaled Mt. Everest too! Boo Hoo! But we also thought it had scaled Mt. Azhagiri too. What say you?

The younger Mr. Clean is wondering 2G or not 2G. Whatever will be will be. But then he doesn't need Dabur Amla Kesh Tail, you see. His crowning glory is nature's bounty!

Now, Kani is Azhagiri's half-sister. Which half... may I ask? And pray... what about the other half?

Malanidhi Karan, Mr. K's nephew, is producing movies. While Sdayanidhi Utalin, Mr. Clean's son, is currently seen as the producer with the Midas touch. Sach! But Robot has taken off to Singapore. Enna Rascala, I see you.

Sdhayanidhi Utalin owns Red Giant Movies. Aayanidhi Dzhagiri owns Cloud Nine Movies. And earlier this month the Giant saw red and fell from cloud nine with a loud thud! What a dud! Maybe it ate too many red chillies. Hilly Billies!

Ilayathalapathy Bijoy has noticed the winds of change... and gone over to Amma. Clever, I say! Now, Lady Luck aka Amma will be smiling on him and his movies. Heebie-jeebies. Enna Rascala? Ab tera kya hoga Shankara? Amma will take on Robot. Waiting for Godot.

Bijayakanth aka Captain is waiting to join forces with Amma. Bijayakanth who? Arre baba, he is the poor man's Rojonikanth. And is the Neta of Dee Yem Dee Kay. Or so they say.

And if Amma comes can Chinnamma be far behind?

Mr. K and Mr. Goody Two Shoes. Have their goose been cooked? Wait and see. Meanwhile... Spectrum changed the equations. Mamma and Amma will have to work together and be thick friends. Smile for the cameras with flower bouquets in hand. How grand!

Perception. Lights, Camera, Action!

Meanwhile our blue turbaned Yogi is worried about several Gs: Indira G, Rajiv G, Sonia G, Rahul G and possibly Priyanka G and even Rehan Rajiv Vadra G and Maira Vadra G. Therefore, he prefers to keep a maun vrat. Silence is golden, you see! All for Ek 2G ke liye ji!

Note: The views expressed here are entirely in good humour and without malice.

Cartoons courtesy: http://blogs.hindustantimes.com/dabs-and-jabs/2011/05/22/party-abhi-baaki-hai/.

Photograph:

Hilarious take on the Political scenario - in India.

Burnt Toast by Sandy Kundra Verma.

2011-05-25T13:59:00.003+05:30

Burnt Toast. No, this has no relation to any culinary misadventures and has nothing to do with Teri Hatcher either. Teri Hatcher who? Arre, Susan Mayer of "Desperate Housewives", and Lois Lane from "Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman". Got it? Good. Ummm, this "Burnt Toast" is advertising professional-turned-author Sandy Kundra Verma's debut novel. Apparently after years of living on a percentage of what her B-school batch-mates were being paid and convincing herself that it was all worth it, she decided to branch out into what she liked even more: writing... and promptly burnt her toast *wink*

The story revolves around three characters: Plain Jane Moulshree Dutta, with her IIM (Calcutta) degree, the drop-dead gorgeous Kanika Anand and the once glamorous Lajja Mehta-Kapur. And their paths cross for sure. With the author too being a female of the species, this should automatically qualify as a "chick lit", no? However, I disagree. Since no novel with male characters and a male author combo is ever classified as "mutton lit". Or "beef lit" for that matter. What?

Coming back to Burnt Toast: Moulshree follows her heart and chooses advertising over Finance, preferring to spend her waking hours ideating over fairness creams, MTR masala, etc instead of stock reports, ET and number crunching. How does her family react? More specifically... how does her 'perfect boyfriend' Naresh Ghosh react? And if her life is so perfect then why is she getting drawn towards the charming and rakish Arjun Desai?

Kanika – she of the perfect smile and gorgeous looks – is jealous of Moulshree. But does she hate her? Or is there more to her than meets the eye?

Lajja Mehta-Kapur – happily married to Vishal or so she thinks.

The purpose of the book, ostensibly, is to drive home the fact that life does not always go according to plan. That life cannot be a perfect cream-cake. It is but a piece of burnt toast. You scrape off the edges to enjoy the taste.

The book provides a sneak peek into the world of advertising... the people involved in creating all those great, not so great and copycat ads. I said 'cat' and not 'Kat', mind you! Sandy has kept the jargon to a minimum, which is good. The ads talked about in the book are the ones we are quite familiar with... and one need not rack one's brains.

But I do feel that she tried to build up suspense. In fact several of them and they were all underdone. The stories have a distinct Mills & Boon feel to them and that was the way to go. For that is precisely the way one can enjoy reading this novel – with a willing suspension of disbelief and happily overlooking the inflections in the book.

Talking about inflections... there are several of them.

Moulshree Dutta is mentioned as a Brahmin with a Bengali father and a Marathi mother.

Now, Dutta (also spelled Datta and Dutt) is a surname found primarily amongst Bengalis, Punjabis and Assamese. The name is derived from the word Aditya, which means sun in Sanskrit.

Bengali Dattas (Bengali: Dôtto) are Kayasthas (Datta/Dutta) or Vaidyas (Dattagupta/Duttagupta) or merchants, making them a non-Brahmin, upper-caste group. Traditionally, many have been in the academic, legal, medical and civil service professions, typical of the bhadralok groups of Bengal (not to be mistaken with "Babumoshai".)

The most famous Bengali Datta/Dutta being: the influential figure of the Spiritual, Bengali and Indian renassiance Swami Vivekananda (1863-1902); born Narendranath Datta. Others: the great poet and dramatist Michael Madhusudan Dutt (1824-1873) – great grandfather of tennis ace Leander Paes, Romesh Chunder Dutt (1848-1909); writer, economist, historian, and translator of the Vedas and the inimitable Utpal Dutt (1929-1993); author, dramatist, director, activist and actor par excellence. Nowadays: Actress Tanushree Dutta; not sure about the 'famous' bit though.

Whereas, Punjabi Duttas are a clan of the Mohyal (Mohyyal) or Munjal Brahmins. According to the Gotra system, they are the descendants of Rishi Bharadwaj, the same as the Duttas from Bengal. Some consider Gaj Bhavan, the grandson of Rishi Bharadwaj to be the real founder of their clan. Mohyyals are one of the few "Martial" Brahmins and are distinct from other Brahmin's as not only have they been warriors, but also the men of the families have been meat eaters. One of the sayings you will hear is "Waah Dutt Sultan, adha Hindu adha Mussalman" i.e. one part of their lifestyle was Hindu (the homes were run as typical Hindu homes) and the other part was like Muslims (eating meat, dressing, vocation, etc).

Famous Punjabi Duttas/Dutts include: the late actor-politician Sunil Dutt (1929-2005); the actress and former Miss Universe Lara Dutta; and actor Sanjay Dutt of course.

Nor is "Ghosh" a Brahmin by caste in Bengal. "Ghoshal" is.

IIM (Kolkata)? The city of Kolkata (nee Calcutta) has completely changed in the last 40 odd years. The signature Ambassadors and Fiats on the city's streets have been replaced with modern cars. During the 70s, the process of renaming streets and locations in Calcutta had already started. Of course, this reached a frenzied pace in recent years with the renaming of the city itself to Kolkata.

But no matter what - Didi and red flags nothwithstanding - IIM Calcutta will retain its name and will continue to be known as IIM–C. It will NOT turn into IIM Kolkata. Except in "Burnt Toast" that is – where you find it on the back cover of the book and that too in the very first line! The only IIM-Kolkata is the Indian Institute of Metals – Kolkata Chapter... and it has absolutely nothing to do with management studies whatsoever.

Sanjayda? In Bengal, "father" is referred to as "Bapi" or "Baba". And Baba's younger brother is certainly not "Dada" to his nephews and nieces. He is "Kaka"... more endearingly "Kaku" to them. Therefore Sanjay – Moulshree's dad's youngest brother cannot be "Sanjayda" to Moulshree even though they are closer in age. The suffix "da" (short for "dada") means elder brother in Bengali.

Yes, Bengalis do not like referring to people as Uncle/Aunty/Grandpa/Grandma irrespective of their age unlike in the South of India (more precisely in namma Bengal-uru) where folks studying in SSLC (10th standard)/PUC (12th standard) will refer to a 1st year college fresher as "Uncle" or "Aunty" depending on the gender. Therefore, in Bengal Sourav Ganguly will always be "Dada" and Mamata Banerjee will forever be "Didi". But Bengalis wouldn't apply this rule to members of their own households... and "Dada" and "Kaku" will never exchange places.

Also the average Bengali women go through their entire lives without uttering "Eish" – even half the number of times that Aishwarya Rai was made to utter in SLB's Rs. 30-crore magnum opus "Devdas". So much for stereotypes!

Sandy has used too many Hindi words... especially for Lajja Mehta-Kapur. Too many "matlabs" do not assist in emphasising her small town roots but end up jarring the reader's sensibilities instead. Completely unnecessary, I would say. Also phrases like "Rajji Baby" and "My dear baby-boo" – to refer to someone special - is totally uncool and quite Yuk.

The production quality of the book is quite decent but the book jacket cover is nicely done. It certainly catches the eye. However, I feel that the titles of the chapters reveal too much, and rob off the charm and suspense (if any) of the following pages.

My rating: I am going with a generous 3/5. "Burnt Toast" makes for a light read – a breezy and entertaining read only if you expect a somewhat M&B-esque romance and storyline. There is no suspense, no whodunit whatsoever. Flushed face, racing pulse and sweaty hands notwithstanding... and there are no flames threatening to destroy anyone's life. Even remotely!

Details of the book: Burnt Toast/ Author: Sandy Kundra Verma/ Publisher: Rupa Publications/ Seller: Rupa & Co./ Language: English/ ISBN: 978-8129117878, 8129117878/ Bookbinding: Paperback/ Price: Rs. 195/ No. of pages: 238.

Photograph: The book jacket cover of 'Burnt Toast'. Picture courtesy: link.

Pochishe Boishakh.

2011-05-14T12:21:00.005+05:30

Pochishe Boishakh - the 25th day of the month of Boishakh passed us by about 5 days ago. It ushered in the 150th birth anniversary of the poet laureate and versatile genius Gurudev Rabindranath Thakur. Fondly referred to as "Robi Thakur" and "Kobiguru" and even though his name has been anglicized as Rabindranath Tagore, he lives on in our hearts, through his rich legacy of work... which also includes his timeless songs - Rabindra Sangeet.

Here are some links to a few of those songs that are also brilliant poetry. Sit back and immerse yourself in the fragrance of his words, thoughts and music:

1. Akash Bhora Surjo Taara: Link - sung by none other than Srikanto Acharya.

2. Aguner Poroshmoni: Link1 - by Srikanta Acharya.

3. Aloker Ei Jhorna Dhaaraye Bohiye Dao: Link2 - rendered by Bhaskar Bagchi.

4. Mone Ki Dwidha Rekhe Gele Chole: Link3 - sung by Chinmoy Chottapadhyay.

5. Aamaro Porano Jaha Chaye: Link4 - by Chinmoy Chottapadhyay.

In Hindi: Hindiversion.

6. Aami Chini Go Chini Tomaare (from the movie "Charulata"): Link5 - Sung by Kishore Kumar. Lyrics: Kobiguru Rabindranath Thakur, Direction: Satyajit Ray, Actors: Soumitra Chatterjee and Madhabi Mukherjee.

Note: "Nashtanir", translated as "The Broken Nest" or "The Fowled Nest". The great Satyajit Ray has captured it on screen as "Charulata". Ray's translation of "Nashtanir" into the film "Charulata", completed in 1964 and released in 1965.

It is thought to be autobiographical. Amol's character (played by Soumitra Chatterjee) is Tagore himself and Charulata (played by Madhabi Mukherjee) is his sister-in-law Kadambari Devi (the wife of Jyotirindranath Tagore). Jyotirindranath was one of Rabindranath's elder brothers and 13 years his senior. Rabindranath was the fourteenth and the youngest living child of his parents. Kadambari Devi was married at the age of nine and committed suicide at 26 (4 months after Rabindranath Tagore was married). Rabindranath was 22 at the time, just a couple of week shy of his 23rd birthday. It is said that Robi Thakur never recovered from this shock...

Watch "Charulata" if you can.

7. Tumi Robe Nirobe (from the movie "Kuheli"): Link6 - sung by Hemanta Mukherjee and Lata Mangeshkar.

8. Aami Poth Bhola Ek Pothik Eshechhi (from the movie "Mon Niye"): Link7 - sung by Hemanta Mukherjee and Asha Bhonsle.

9. Tumi Kemon Kore Gaan Karo He Guni: Link8 - rabindra sangeet by Srikanto Acharya (along with English Subtitles).

10. Chanchalo Mon Aanmona Hoye (from the film "Adwitiya"): Link9 - Lata Mangeshkar and Hemanta Kumar are the playback singers.

11. Kon Se Alor Swapno Niye (from the movie "Prothom Kodom Phool"): Link10 - Lata Mangeshkar.

Here is the version sung by Shreya Ghosal: Link-Shreya.

12. Ke Pratham Kachey Esechee (from the film "Sankhabela"): Link11 - Manna Dey and Lata Mangeshkar.

In 1966, Sudhin Dasgupta used Manna Dey to playback for Uttam Kumar for the first time in this movie… that starred Uttam Kumar and Madhabi Mukherjee.

13. Aaj Mon Cheyeche Ami Hariye Jabo (from the film "Sankhabela"): Link12 - by Lata Mangeshkar.

14. Chander Haasi Bhaand Bhengechey: Link13 - a beautiful song rendered by Indranil Sen and Indrani Sen.

15. Prano Bhariye: Link14 - Nayontara.

16. Sokhi Bhabona Kahare Bole: Link15 - by Lata Mangeshkar.

... His legacy, our treasure-trove is overflowing with such gems.

He Kobiguru... tomar paaye thhaekai matha. He Bishwakobi, He Robi Thakur, amar matha noto kore dao he tomar chorono dhular tole. Tumi dhonno Robi Thakur, tumi dhrubotara, tumi amar... tomaye pronam. Shato koti pronam.

Photograph: Robi Thakur with two of his kids. Pic. courtesy link.

The sauce always justifies the means!

2011-05-01T00:39:00.008+05:30

King Ferdinand I (1751 - 1825) is said to have disguised himself as a commoner and, in clandestine fashion, visited a poor neighbourhood in Naples. One story has it that he wanted to sink his teeth into a food that the queen had banned from the royal court - pizza! Poor Freddy. So much legwork for a mere pizza! We live life King-size and have home delivery instead.

If you think that the Pizza (yet another Italian import) only arouses hunger pangs in your tummy... think again. Pizza has taken the erudite route and become enlightened... without meditating under the Bodhi tree. Tatkal service... what?

Branded pizza such as Domino's and Pizza Hut 'discovered' India in early to mid 1990s, and underwent a process of self-discovery almost immediately thereafter. Result: several Indian-style toppings like Tandoori Chicken and Paneer. Italy met India with exotic pizza toppings... which once again proved beyond a shred of doubt that the whole world is one single family - 'Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam' (from "vasudha", the earth; "eva" = emphasizer and "kutumbakam", "family" - a Sanskrit phrase.) We even have "The Slumdog" - a specialty pizza available at Bombay Pizza Co. on Main Street near Walker Street. Socialism aka Communism met Capitalism aka Free Market over a bottle of Johny Walker... I guess!

And a "Gateway to India" pizza too... filled with Tandoori chicken, crabmeat, artichoke hearts (not to choke the arteries of your heart, really!), cilantro chutney, mozzarella and provolone, and topped with fresh cilantro, all on naan bread. (But ingredients originating from the Arab world, Mongolia, Afghanistan, Persia, Portugal, France, Holland and England are conspicuous by their absence. Wonder why though *wink*.) While the Slumdog is laden with pepperoni, Spanish chorizo, Canadian bacon, beef, chicken, onions and Bombay pizza sauce. Is your mouth watering yet? I am hungry already!!

In December 2007, Domino's introduced a new slogan, "You Got 30 Minutes", alluding to the earlier pledge but stopping short of promising delivery in a half hour. Clever! No? Not unlike our UPA-nishad.

In a 2009 survey of consumer taste preferences among national chains by Brand Keys, Domino's was last - tied with Chuck E. Cheese's. In December that year, Domino's announced plans to entirely reinvent its pizza. It began a self-flogging ad campaign in which consumers were filmed criticizing the pizza's quality and chefs were shown developing the new product. The new pizza was introduced that same month, and the following year, Domino's 50th anniversary, the company acquired J. Patrick Doyle as its new CEO and experienced a historic 14.3% quarterly gain. While admitted not to endure, the success was described by Doyle as one of the largest quarterly same-store sales jumps ever recorded by a major fast-food chain.

Now, apart from answering the SOS calls of hapless dabbawallahs whose dabbas (lunch boxes) decide to take a swim without their knowledge and/or permission, Domino's fairly recent delivery - their mea culpa ad campaign was tough to beat for its sheer corporate candor. In its new TV commercial and Web video, the pizza chain admits something startling - namely, that its pizza is pretty terrible. Domino's very public admission of its own awfulness might represent the most elaborate mea culpa ad in history. But it's hardly the first. Companies sometimes admit their flaws and faults in a bid for public empathy. The strategy usually has two parts. Part one: Fess up. Part two: Vow to do better. While Domino's never quite expresses remorse, the crusty comments in its commercial do set up the company's promise to improve, with better ingredients and a new pizza recipe.

Airlines such as United and JetBlue have prostrated themselves in public to mollify travelers enraged by scheduling snafus. (In demo-crazy India of course the airlines will have none of it. They go on strike instead.) Fast-food outfits have done it, too. American car manufacturers have practically made an art of acknowledging their shortcomings; General Motors went on an apology tour starting in late 2008 when it began lobbying for billions of dollars in federal bailout funds. Last summer, as it went through Chapter 11 bankruptcy proceedings, it flooded the airwaves with a commercial that acknowledged, "General Motors needs to start over in order to get stronger."

As Domino's was rolling out its self-lacerating confession, the Chicago Bears took out newspaper ads to apologize to the team's fans for its sub par performance. "In a season where we did not perform at our best, we are further humbled by the fact that our fans stepped up and did their part," the ads said. (For the record, the Bears finished with a 7-9 record, considerably better than the 4-12 Redskins, who have yet to publish any apologies.)

Acknowledging that you've messed up may win some goodwill among consumers, but marketing experts say it also carries some risks. Some people are going to hear only part of the message (e.g., Domino's stinks) and not hear the part about how they're going to get better. Thus, apology ads can reinforce negative perceptions and raise awareness of them among people who've never tried, or even heard of, the product. But you can safely leave out Bollywood, Hollywood, the various 'Woods' and the Netalog... for them any publicity is good publicity. No?

Once you've said, 'Our pizza tastes like cardboard,' you've got people's attention. Most people will ignore you if you just said, 'We're new and improved.' Every advertiser and his aunt say that. This gets people (including couch potatoes) to sit up and take notice.

Domino's also took the 'proverbial' route... and created 'Pizza Proverbs' - an online contest in the US. Of the over 7,000 customer proverbs submitted, Domino's proudly presented the 8 (of surpassing wisdom) chosen to be immortalized on their new pizza boxes.

For the folks slogging it out errr... ideating in the world of advertising, the joy of going beyond the brief and creating something that is fun, relevant and positively impacts a brand is an unmatched high. Sometimes, it involves thinking out of the box, literally. And... the sauce always justifies the means!

The winning pizza proverb:

Pizzas rush in where burgers fear to tread.

The others (which may include the Prince Charles among pizza proverbs):

1. Give a man a pizza and he'll eat for a day. Teach him to order online and he'll eat for a lifetime.
2. He who eats the last slice, pays the price... Of the next pizza.
3. An ye harm none, order what ye will.
4. He who pays for the pizza calls the toppings.
5. I hear pizza and I forget, I see pizza and I remember. I taste pizza and I understand.
6. Do not ask for whom the bell pepper tolls. It tolls for thee.
7. Pizzas are like money. Easier made than kept.
8. A watched door never brings the pizza boy sooner.
9. As soon as one gets out the box, another comes in the door.
10. Satisfying Fulfillment!
11. Good thing come to those who wait... for Domino's pizza.
12. A pizza saved is a pizza yearned.
13. Never judge a pizza by the box.
14. A garlic seasoned crust keeps the vampires away.
15. Moderation in all things... except pizza.
16. A Domino's pizza in the hand is better than two in the box.
17. Two pizzas are always better than one.
18. If you can't stand the pizza get out of the dining room.
19. A pizza's worth a thousand toppings.
20. Wow, This is Cheesy!!!

Perhaps they'll come up with a proverb to mark the much fawned over Royal wedding too! Here is mine: Domino's Katering Will successfully loosen the stiff upper lip. Watch out for the Domino's effect.

Photograph: Pics courtesy: Link.

Free Book Giveaway: Flight of the Hilsa.

2011-04-24T00:57:00.007+05:30

Who doesn't like free books?

On the occasion of World Book Day (23rd April), Bookreview and Book Readers Lounge jointly bring to you, an exciting, Flight of the Hilsa Giveaway Contest.

Win Author signed copies of 'Flight of the Hilsa' by Amit Shankar. It is a book that explores and demystifies the definition of happiness.

What do you need to do?

Head over to this link for details: http://goo.gl/qcn59

As per Democritus, (460? - 370? BC) "Happiness resides not in possessions and not in gold, the feeling of happiness dwells in the soul."

Therefore, no one is in control of your happiness but you.

And as Hafiz of Persia said, "Ever since happiness heard your name, it has been running through the streets trying to find you." Who knows?

Enjoy the Hilsa and don't fish for happiness. Be the Hilsa instead!

Photograph: The book jacket cover of 'Flight of the Hilsa'. Picture courtesy: link.

Flight of the Hilsa by Amit Shankar.

2011-04-22T12:18:00.003+05:30

When Booklover enquired if I would like to read and review "Flight of the Hilsa", I was more than glad... and the Hilsa bit had nothing to do with it, I assure you! Do not be misled by the book title. It is not about fishes and there is nothing fishy about it either.

This is advertising professional-turned-author Amit Shankar's debut novel. While Hilsas don't fly, "Flight of the Hilsa" took off on the 28th of October 2010, and in less than 5 weeks, headed for a re-print. Blame it on the pujo season (Durga Pujo and Kali Pujo) and the insatiable affinity of Bengalis towards fish! For the "Bangals" (i.e., Bengali folks whose ancestors trace back to East Bengal, present Bangladesh) the Hilsa or Ilish Maach is the only way to Nirvana. And only they know how to negotiate their way through this tasty mine-field of fish thorns. But then, it is the thorns, which imparts the lessons, not the rose. But I digress.

Hilsa is the metaphor for happiness and satisfaction. What is happiness? How does one achieve it? And more importantly, keep it? How does one measure happiness and satisfaction? Isn't personal satisfaction closely linked with happiness? Does success spawn satisfaction? A successful career, an astronomical paycheck, regular page 3 and media appearances, flaunting branded stuffs - clothes, perfume, shoes, and handbag - does all that lead to the elusive satisfaction? Or is happiness and satisfaction a state of mind for which we have to look deep within our souls? Aakhir satisfaction kis chidiya ka naam hai? Well, read the book to find out.

Published by Vitasta, the book is called "Flight of the Hilsa" because Amit finds inspiration in the fish flowing against the tide to lay eggs in fresh water and then returning to the sea. "It does its job to the best of ability but doesn't crave for 'results'." Well, nothing else can better exemplify Lord Shri Krishna's immortal words from the Bhagavad-Gita (Chapter II-47):

"Karmanye Vadhikaraste Ma Phaleshu Kadachana,
Ma Karma Phala Hetur Bhurmatey Sangostva Akarmani."

Meaning: "Thy business is with the action only, never with its fruits; so let not the fruits of action be thy motive, nor be thou to inaction attached." In short: "Do your duty and leave the rest to God."

How simple and how relevant, even today! I think if Bhagavad-Gita is universally renowned as the jewel of India's spiritual wisdom, it is because of Karma Yog. You rarely find books (including spiritual texts and discourses by Gurus) laying emphasis on doing one’s work/duty. That's exactly what Shri Krishna says here. Always do your best without expecting the results and you will be happy. Beautiful words indeed, no?

The Storyline: "Flight of the Hilsa" explores and demystifies the definition of happiness while tracing the story of the protagonist, Avantika Sengupta. This is her journey. Avi to her friends, she is the quintessential bohemian artsy-type complete with purani jeans, Fabindia khadi kurtis, kajal, jootis and a jhola. A graduate of Delhi School of Art she aspires to be a renowned painter. But even her best efforts fail to generate the footfalls in exhibitions or conjure up enough interest among buyers, critics and art connoisseurs... except for 2 people who unfailingly buy them.

A decade of painting and no success frustrates her and nicotine from the navy cut provides some relief... apart from keema-pav and cutting chai. She doesn't eat Hilsa but relishes prawn, which makes her a full-blooded "Ghoti" (i.e., Bengali folks who are originally from West Bengal) I tell you! *wink*

She is dating her Punjabi boyfriend Sunny Khurana, the scion of a business magnate, for 8 years. Khurana Sr. is quite decent while Mrs. Khurana - a socialite - who attends expensive seminars in Switzerland for the upliftment of the poor and the needy, has a very condescending attitude. She reminded me of Kareena Kapoor's fiancé in '3 Idiots' - the one she dumped for Phunsukh Wangdu.

Avantika comes from a dysfunctional family headed by a gallant VSM, AVSM father. Her childhood experiences have made her cynical, volatile... and a non-believer in the institution of marriage. While her best friend cum agony aunt Shweta is married into yet another well-heeled business family - to the owner of the kaddu like lower-half Prashant Khemka, and finds Sunny to be 'perfect husband material'. Avi hates 'Panjoos' - slang for 'Punjabis' - with a vengeance. Bengalis aren't so rabid about 'Punjabis' - they wear them instead! Yes, the kurta worn by Bengali men on special occasions is called 'Panjabi'. It does not figure among Fabindia merchandise of course!

Most of the chapters are named after popular English song titles... perhaps to mirror Avantika's love for music. She is crazy about Bob Dylan, Pink Floyd, Eric Clapton, Led Zepp and Deep Purple. She is addicted to the iPod that helps her to shut out the shorsharaba of the outside world most of the time. But a Bengali - even a 'probashi Bangali' - who does not worship at the altar of the great poet laureate Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore! Not done Avantika! Bengalis - both "Bangals" and "Ghotis" will shake their collective heads and say "Shobbonash" in unison. [Actual: Shorbonash. Meaning: utter disaster] *wink* Especially, since we are in the midst of celebrating the 150th birth anniversary of Tagore. [Note: Probashi Bangali: Bengalis who stay a few grass fields away from Bengal; may be in Delhi, Karnataka, Jharkhand, Orissa, Assam or thousands of miles away in New York, London and Berlin].

As the story rolls along, Avantika goes through a whole gamut of emotions and experiences (with a variety of whales and sharks nattily dressed in business suits) and begins to understand the difference between a good painter and a successful one. Which one does she prefer? What choices does she make? Does she learn to use and abuse people or is it the other way round? How far is she ready to go to realize her dreams? How far are we ready to go to realize our dreams?

It's the choice that we make in our lives which goes on to define our existence. True. But do we make those choices or vice versa? There is truth behind the saying that it's lonely at the top. But it's not just lonely at the top; it can be 'disengaging,' too. What happens when one lacks or loses inspiration? Does one all but retire on the job? After all, one of the first rules of success is to do what you enjoy. It's taken for granted that top executives have found the magic, or surely they would have flamed out somewhere short of the summit. One may put in the time, but not the heart. What happens then?

The conversations between Avi and the design expert Francois Lancolne are quite engaging and insightful. Especially the one about 'falling stars'. What happens if the spark is missing?

Then, one fine day Avi meets the mysterious 'boat guy' - Captain - 20 years her senior, curly haired - more salt than pepper, weather beaten face and bright shining eyes. He becomes her mentor and guide - her Captain - too. Their interactions will hold your attention. For they are simple yet deep, profound yet philosophical and provide a lot of management and life’s lesson succinctly. Their relationship is not difficult to fathom but difficult to put a name to (like that of Sid and Tara Jaiswal in the path breaking 'Dil Chahta Hai').

Perhaps it has shades of Amrita Pritam and Imroze too. A bit.

Captain was there for her when she needed him - during her health scare, when she was broke financially and emotionally, when she lacked confidence... all the time, every single time. Caring and affectionate, providing her the strength and advice, holding her hand and gently steering her through her troubles. He left everything for her without a second thought. Avantika pays him back handsomely of course. She takes him for granted, abuses him with words and deeds and hurts him to his core, immeasurably. Is success blind? Or does it prefer to have a blinkered vision?

But then what goes around comes around, no? The bubble bursts, the dream turns into a nightmare and the ground shifts from beneath her feet. A shocked, shaken, teary eyed and remorseful Avantika turns to her Captain. Will he answer her frantic "O Captain! My Captain!" cries? Will Avantika Sengupta aka Avi triumph over Ms. Sen? Read the book to find out.

Suggestions: Few characters/events could be pruned out of the plot, e.g., Partho Sengupta. The whole Naxalite angle serves no purpose except for eating up space. The shenanigan of Prashant and Shweta's decision was a straight lift from the movie 'Page 3'. It does not add anything to the plot except a sense of déjà vu. Colonel Sengupta and his mistress Simi are painted pitch black. Some shades of gray would have been better. Though Col. Sengupta gets some redemption, only a wee bit, he is too violent for my taste. Avantika comes across as too cynical, too brusque and too volatile. Perhaps even as an opportunist. A selfish one at that! [See! More 'fish', she certainly is a Bengali *wink*]. She reminded me of the legendary Suchitra Sen's character in 'Saat Paake Bandha' (1963), regarded as one of the all-time great films of Bengali cinema. It was re-made in Hindi as 'Kora Kaagaz' (1974) but the original is definitely cinematically superior.

Also the whole hypno-therapy and past life regression bit is underdone. The Queen and the general part piqued my interest and for a moment raised visions of Cleopatra and Julius Caesar. Methinks... Liz Taylor had she not moved on in the afterlife would have definitely sued Avantika for being the pretender! After all, Avi being Avi still goes ahead and does what she did to the Captain in spite of being aware of their past life connection. So, this Kismet Connection bit fails to connect. And the last page reminded me of 'Lagaan'. Not sure why though. Also Avi's 'evolved Bengali genes' seems to have missed the strain of romance. Cholbe Na! Errr... Ratan Tata might prefer 'Cholbe Nano' instead!

My Rating: 3.75/5. A great debut novel! But a little less cynicism, a dash of romanticism, less violence, pruning out of the unnecessary events and characters... would have fully satiated the fiction loving epicurean in me. Enjoy the Hilsa and don't fish for happiness. Be the Hilsa instead.

The book feels good to hold and the printer's devil has not been able to do much damage. The language flows smoothly; exuding a languid charm and pulls you into the narrative while the book jacket cover is vibrant and radiates a cool energy. It makes you want to read the book.

I look forward to Amit's future writings with interest.

Details of the book: Flight of the Hilsa/ Author: Amit Shankar/ Publisher: Vitasta Publishing/ Edition: 2010/ Language: English/ ISBN: 9380828138 / ISBN-13: 9789380828138, 978-9380828138/ Bookbinding: Paperback/ Price: Rs. 245 (Rs. 208 on Flipkart)/ No. of pages: 336.

Photograph: The book jacket cover of 'Flight of the Hilsa'. Picture courtesy: link.

Review: The Long Road by Dr. Vivek Banerjee.

2011-04-17T00:16:00.003+05:30

'The Long Road' is the debut novel of Dr. Vivek Banerjee who also writes on Rediff blogs where he is known as Ben. It is a tale of doctors, by a doctor but by no means exclusively for doctors.

The protagonists are all doctors who are studying to acquire higher qualifications. That the good doctor is a Hindi movie buff is amply clear given the mention of a famous water tank scene from an iconic movie. Two of his protagonists are namesakes of actors - Dr. Rahul Roy (remember the 'Aashiqui' guy?) and Dr. Priyanshu Chatterjee (remember the doe-eyed chap from 'Tum Bin'?) It is another matter that yours truly feels that the 'Tum Bin' guy can fit into the role of the super sleuth - Feluda - a creation of the versatile genius Satyajit Ray, provided he lost some weight and underwent a makeover. But I digress.

The book feels good to hold; the language flows smoothly and at only 176 pages makes for a breezy read. The chapters are short... much like the pages of a diary... and give the impression that one is reading the book faster than one actually is. However, some tighter editing would help keep the printer's devil at bay and make the journey smoother.

'The Long Road' tells the story of 5 residents with high ideals, passion, and energy... in a difficult and demanding profession. Each has a different motivation to choose this profession and the area of specialization. The story talks about how these 5 young doctors face several trials and tribulations to fight a constant battle against diseases and death of patients... while winning some and losing some and the subsequent psychological highs and the mental lows associated with them. There are romantic subplots yet it attempts to bring out the lives of people who are regarded as God's representatives on earth - but who are actually only too human, with families, lives, dreams and emotions of their own. So, if you think doctors remain unaffected by their 'cases' errr 'subjects' (remember Munna Bhai MBBS?) - think again.

All the blood and gore of operations fade away while they rejoice in the heady feeling of having conducted their first surgery. A joy felt by non-medicos too. For a techie it is having completed a project or the first product release, for example.

The fact that the author himself belongs to the medical fraternity gives him the edge to write authoritatively and knowledgeably about procedures and diagnosis while using the right medical terminology. To his credit he does all that in a language simple enough for a non-medico like me to understand and does not overwhelm the reader with medical jargon. TLR gives us a peep into the world of doctors - a glimpse of the pressures of being in a medical college and the long and grueling hours - studying and working - that doctors need to dedicate... to be an expert in their respective fields. It certainly makes our respect for the people in the white coat go up a few notches.

The first 60-70 odd pages where the characters were introduced and subsequent events narrated are quite well done. Thereafter the plot turns a bit too simplistic, too pristine, too clinical, and too antiseptic. Blame it on Dr. Banerjee's profession! *wink* And titles like 'A surprise encounter', 'An unpleasant encounter', 'Prof. Patil to the rescue'; 'An unexpected shock', 'Hina gives up' just kills the suspense and dilutes the interest. Which is not done. There is even an 'All is well'. The perfectionist Khan would be happy, for sure!

The latter part of TLR gives a feeling that the author was trying to attempt a Karan Johar gharana with this book. Everything is picture perfect and well choreographed. Difficult times and times of distress included. Ummm... very KJo-ish I would say. The American dream is too clichéd and there is no surprise element as to why it no longer remains a dream/turns into a nightmare for Dr. Sagarika. Her reaction when she 'finds out' is very, very filmy and one fails to sympathize with her 'naïveté'. Actually TLR reminded me of 'Dill Mill Gayye' - a TV serial (on Star One) that follows the lives of interns and resident doctors of Sanjeevani. And 'Sanjeevani' is the name of a hospital in the book and the prequel to 'Dill Mill Gayye'!

Much like the serial, the book starts off with the introduction of 5 residents. Dr. Rahul Roy, son of Brigadier Roy is the happy-go-lucky type who has been dumped after a nearly 5-year romance by Dr. Sarika Mehra. Dr. Roy is traveling to Mumbai and Grant Medical College with a mission. Dr. Sarika is ambitious, focused and totally career oriented, or so she thinks. Dr. Hina Sheikh is a misfit... coming as she does from a lower middle class family living in a one roomed house above a mosque in the bylanes of Bhiwandi. Dr. Ranjiv Pathak is the total opposite - very upper class and a rebel without a cause who too is on a mission in Grant Medical College, Mumbai. We do not get much info on the 5th resident - Dr. Sagarika Ghosh except that she isn't very ambitious, belongs to a middle class family and has an American dream. She appears intermittently in the plot... and mostly through her emails.

Does opposites attract? Sure it does! Much like 'Jaane Tu... Ya Jaane Naa'. Yet they all manage to remain friends. Which is fine.

What I was unable to understand is how Irfaan - Hina's elder Bhaijaan - barely literate and working in a local cotton loom is able to support her through medical college. While we are told that the family lived in a one-room house above a mosque and barely managed to make ends meet. Perhaps an education loan or a grant from some trust may have sounded more credible. [On page 22 we get to know that Irfaan who volunteered to pay Hina's tuition fee for four and half years of medical college - MBBS - had just started working. While on page 21 we read that he is married as well. Errr... did I miss something?]

Hina's quick transformation is believable but her reaction after her Bhaijaan's outburst is very Bollywoodish. We find that she did not go home for several months... to avoid facing her family... who would have justifiably been shocked at her metamorphosis. But apparently the siblings have been very close all their life. So, it is strange that Irfaan discovers her one fine day riding pillion with her 'good friend' while it never occurs to him to pay his beloved younger sister a visit in so many months!

That a family like that with rigid thoughts, values (Hina walked to her school covered from head to toe in a Burkha), little education and whose head of the family worked as a Maulvi in a mosque - calling the faithful for prayers five times a day - accepts Hina's decision without much ado (read: without any equal and opposite reaction) is (according to moi) akin to 'golper goru gache choreche' as they say in Bengali. Meaning: Cow in stories climb trees as well. That is, too much of a fairy tale or too far-fetched and very hypothetical to be true.

The book has some witty dialogues and the description of the goings on in the OT do not tax the brain - which is a feat in itself, but the drama, conflicts, surprise elements - to hold your attention - are underdone. They end quite abruptly and too quickly... leaving you biting into a somewhat soggy biscuit while expecting it to be crunchy.

Baba Ramdev finds a mention and so does Dr. Ben... perhaps taking a leaf out of Subhash Ghai's book! *grin*

Methinks... the receptionist bit was somewhat amateurish. Receptionists, secretaries, nurses and personal assistants have all been stereotyped for better or for worse, courtesy our films. It is simply too predictable. Dr. Sagarika's character could be pruned out of the plot... or it could be reworked to provide some intriguing third angle or a surprise element in the story. Even the 'potentially fatal accident' lacks emotional connect. With 26/11 as the backdrop a lot more could have happened/been done.

With the right mix: some taut drama, conflicts, surprise elements and a few heart tugging moments and by cutting out the deadwood - clichés and predictable events, this one could turn out to be a very good read. May not be in the league of the Erich Segal classic 'Doctors' but a very good read in its own right. A much meatier read.

My rating: 2.5/5. It is a feel good story and makes for a breezy, light read and at just Rs. 150/ it is light on the wallet too.

'The Long Road' should have been longer with some more content added to it and the journey need not have been so straight. But, for a debut author it is a fairly good attempt. Writing a story about doctors is not an easy matter but TLR held a lot more promise than it actually delivered. Dr. Banerjee can do much better. If you are a fan of feel good stories without complex twists and turns and are looking for a light read you could pick this one. KJo and Bollywood... where are you?

Details of Book: The Long Road/ Author: Dr. Vivek Banerjee/ Pages: 176/ ISBN: 8122311636/ ISBN-13: 9788122311631, 978-8122311631/ Publishing Date: 2010/ Publisher: Cedar Booka - Pustak Mahal/ Price: Rs. 150/- (paperback).

Photograph: Pic courtesy: link.