POLICING THE WEB

Kapil Sibal's recent threat to social networking sites is not only ill advised but it exposes the deep rooted fear the Indian politicians in general and the UPA government in particular has developed about the new media, i.e. internet and social websites. Now coming to practical considerations, is it possible to police the social websites. Improbable  if not downright impossible. I don't think that Google, Facebook, Yahoo or the others are likely to be as compliant and meek as the electronic or print media operating in India. And besides, don't these sites already have an anti- hate, anti-spam policy in existence. Would not it be simpler for the government to depute some officers to peruse the contents of these sites and use the existing safeguards to remove the content ( if it is really THAT offensive).

Bluster will not solve  the issue. If anything, it will draw attention to the content Mr. Sibal finds offensive. And Sibal sahib, please answer just one question. When it comes to the problems of the common man; ensuring food security for all; rooting out corruption or even talking about it; the government seems to be having a very thick skin and deaf ears; then why this public display of overt sensitivity when a few morphed picture or cartoons of Congress leaders appear on the net? Has the public finally found a chink in your armour ??

Why India Works - written by internationally acclaimed film director Shekhar Kapoor.

This is again an email forward. But it is too good not to share with you all. A greater ‘hole in the wall’ you cannot imagine. A small fading sign on the top saying 'Cellphoon reapars' barely visible through the street vendors crowding the Juhu Market in Mumbai. On my way to buy a new Blackberry, my innate sense of adventure made me stop my car and investigate. A shop not more than 6 feet by 6 feet. Grimy and uncleaned. "Can you fix a Blackberry ?" "Of course, show me” "How old are you” "Sixteen" Bullshit. He was no more than 10. Not handing my precious blackberry to a 10 year old in unwashed and torn T shirt and pyjamas! At least if I buy a new one, they would extract the data for me. Something I have been meaning to do for a year now. "What’s wrong with it?" "Well, the roller track ball does not respond. It’s kind of stuck and I cannot operate it" He grabs it from my hand and looks at it "You should wash your hands. Many customers have same problem. Roller ball get greasy and dirty, then no working" Look who was telling me to wash my hands. He probably has not bathed for 10days, I leaned out to snatch my useless blackberry back.. "You come back in one hour and I fix it". I am not leaving all my precious data in this unwashed kid’s hands for an hour. No way. “Who will fix it?” "Big brother" "How big is ‘big brother?" "big …. Umm ..thirty" Then suddenly big brother walks in. 30 ??? He is no more than 19. "What problem?" He says grabbing the phone from my greasy hand into his greasier hand. Obviously not trained in etiquette by an upmarket retail store manager. "Normal blackberry problem. I replace with original part now. You must wash your hand before you use this". What is this about me washing my hands suddenly?? 19 year old big brother rummages through a dubious drawer full of junk and fishes out a spare roller ball packed in cheap cellophane wrapper. Originalpart? I doubt it.  But by now I am in the lap of the real India and there is no escape as he fishes out a couple of screwdrivers and sets about opening my Blackberry. “How long will this take?” "Six minutes" This I have to see. After spending the whole morning trying to find a Blackberry service centre and getting vague answers about sending the phone in for an assessment that might take a week, I settle down next to his grubby cramped work space. At least I am going to be able to watch all my stored data vanish into virtual space. People crowd around to see what’s happening. I am not breathing easy anyway. I tell myself this is an adventure and literallyhave to stop myself grabbing my precious Blackberry back and making a quickescape. But in exactly six minutes this kid handed my Blackberry back. He had changed the part and cleaned and serviced the whole phone. Taken it apart, and put it together. As I turned the phone on there was a horrific 2 minutes where the phone would not come on. I looked at him with such hostility that he stepped back. "you have more than thousand phone numbers ?" "yes". "backed up?" "no" "Must back up. I do it for you. Never open phone before backing up!" "You tell me that now?" But then the phone came on and my data was still there. Everyone watching laughed and clapped. This was becoming a show. A six minute show. I asked him how much. "500 rupees" He ventured uncertainly. People around watched in glee expecting a negotiation. That’s $10 dollars as against the Rs 30,000 ($ 600) I was about to spend on a new Blackberry or a couple of weeks without my phone. I looked suitably shocked at his ‘high price’ but calmly paid him. Much to the disappointment of the expectant crowd "Do you have an I-Phone ? Even the new ‘4D one ?" "no, why" "I break the code for you and load any ‘app’ or film you want. I give you 10 film on your memory stick on this one, and change every week for small fee’!" I went home having discovered the true entrepreneurship that lies at what we call the ‘bottom of the pyramid’. Some may call it piracy, which of course it is, but what can you say about two uneducated and untrained brothers aged 10 and 19 that set up a ‘hole in the wall’ shop and can fix any technology that the greatest technologists in the world can throw at them. I smiled at the future of our country. If only we could learn to harness this potential. ‘Please wash your hands before use’ were his last words to me. Now I am feeling seriously unclean.

More flash fiction-55 word stories

Pause

The monitor suddenly stopped beeping almost causing his heart to stop. The surgeon, intent on his work, didn’t even notice. The anesthetist placed his hands on the patient pulse and found it steady. He realised that the power supply to the monitor had failed and the patient was fine. His own heartbeat returned to normal.

Victim

The new teacher would be his next victim, he decided. After all, he was the terror of the school.  He waited for her to enter the class, ready for the confrontation. The lady entered the class, looking like a frightened doe. One look at her eyes, and he was struck dumb. He was in love.

Compromise

The broker counted the money, stashed it away and smiled. “Don’t worry, sir. Your son’s admission to medical college is assured. Just ask him to leave at least eighty percent of the answer sheet blank.” He had been upright all his life but had to compromise with his principles for the sake of his progeny.

Resume

He sat alone in his flat, nursing his beer which had gone flat a long time back. He wondered if he had been a little more understanding and a little less egoistical, Reena would still be with him. “Come back into my life, Reena. I am sorry.” He wished that life had a resume button.

Trouble

He paled as he perused the ultrasound report. His wife was carrying triplets this time. The twins had just turned four and it was the right time for an addition to the family, they had thought. “We wanted one more, but God decided to send us triplets?!!” He thought. “Now we are in serious trouble.”


Shock

The attractive girl was dressed to kill. She needed to, as  one of the highest paid call girls of the city, she had certain obligations to her clients.After all, looks were everything!

The bell rang and she opened the door, expecting another 'dirty old man.'

She was shocked to see her dad standing there.

***

Flash fiction- yet more 55 word stories

 Eye witness

The one room chawl accommodated the entire family of seven. The newly wedded couple could not stay away from each other for long and sneaked away for a tryst. As they made out on the terrace, oblivious to the discomfort and the cold, the lone cat blinked at them, a mute witness to their passion.

Murder

Murder, she thought. Sprayed almost the entire contents of the insecticide and went to sleep, confident that the vermin would be exterminated by the morning. But a nasty surprise awaited her. When she woke -up early next morning, her kitchen was overrun by cockroaches as usual. Spray had not worked. Time to phone pest-control, she decided.

Accident

It was their tenth marriage anniversary and he had forgotten about it. After waiting the whole day for some kind of acknowledgment, his wife gave him hell and they ended up fighting bitterly as usual. He could not sleep; and while tossing and turning, he wondered whether their marriage was an event or an accident.

Amnesia

The frail old lady stared blankly.

 “Do you remember the day I got my medical degree! You were so happy.” Her daughter said with a cheer she did not feel in her heart. In fact the only thing she felt was a deep dread as she recognized the relentless progress of symptoms of Alziemer’s disease.

Hysteria

The mobiles started ringing at midnight as the rumors about the imminent flood spread throughout the city. By four in the morning, the entire city was awake and on the roofs, prepared for the sudden deluge. But the river waters never rose and Yamuna flowed serenely, as if laughing at the phenomena of mass hysteria.

Indian History by a Schoolboy!!!

This is an email forward I received. Too funny not to share so here it is.......

The original inhabitants of ancient India were called Adidases, who lived intwo cities called Hariappa and Mujhe-na-Daro. These cities had the best drain system in the world and so there was no brain drain from them. Ancient India was full of myths which have been handed down from son to father. A myth is a female moth. A collection of myths is called mythology, which means stories with female caricatures.

One myth says that people in olden times worshipped monkeys because they were our incestors. In olden times, there were two big families in India. One was called the Pandava and the other was called the Karova. They fought amongst themselves in a battle called Mahabharat, after which India came to be known as Mera Bharat Mahan.

In midevil times, India was ruled by the Slave Dienasty. So named because they all died a nasty death. Then came the Tughlaqs who shifted their capital from Delhi because of its pollution. They were followed by the Mowglis. The greatest Mowgli was Akbar because he extinguished himself on the battlefield of Panipat which is in Hurryana. But his son Jehangir was peace loving; he married one Hindu wife and kept 300 porcupines.

 

Then came Shahajahan who had 14 sons. Family planning had not been invented at that time. He also built the Taj Mahal hotel for his wife who now sleeps there. The king sent all his sons away to distant parts of India because they started quarrelling. Dara Seiko was sent to UP, Shaikh Bhakhtiyar was sent to J & K, while Orangezip came to Bombay to fight Shivaji. However, after that they changed its name to Mumbai because Shivaji's sena did not like it. They also do not like New Delhi, so they are calling it Door Darshan.

 

After the Mowglis came Vasco the Gama. He was an exploder who was circumcising India with a 100 foot clipper. Then came the British. They brought with them many inventions such as cricket, tramtarts and steamed railways. They were followed by the French who brought in French fries, pizzazz and laundry. But Robert Clive drove them out when he deafened Duplex who was out-membered since the British had the queen on their side.

 

Eventually, the British came to overrule India because there was too much diversity in our unity. The British overruled India for a long period. They were great expotents and impotents. They started expoting salt from India and impoting cloth. This was not liked by Mahatma Gandhi who wanted to produce his own salt. This was called the Swedish moment. During this moment, many people burnt their lion cloths in the street and refused to wear anything else. The British became very angry at this and stopped the production of Indian testiles.

 

In 1920, Mahatma Gandhi was married to one wife. Soon after he became the father of the nation. In 1942, he started the Quiet India moment, so named because the British were quietly lootoing our country. In 1947, India became free and its people became freely loving. This increased our population. Its government became a limited mockery, which means people are allowed to take the law in their own hands with the help of the police.

 

Our constipation is the best in the world because it says that no man can be hanged twice for the same crime. It also says you cannot be put in prison if you have not paid your taxis. Another important thing about our constipation is that it can be changed. This is not possible with the British constipation because it is not written on paper.

The Indian parlemint consists of two houses which are called lower and higher. This is because one Mr. Honest Abe said that two houses divided against itself cannot withstand. So Pandit Nehru asked the British for freedom at midnight since the British were afraid of the dark. At midnight, on August 15, there was a tryst in parlemint in which many participated by wearing khaki and hosting the flag.

 

Recently in India, there have been a large number of scams and a plaque, it can be dangerous because many people died of this plaque in Surat. Scams are all over India. One of these was in Bihar where holy cows were not given anything to eat by their elected leader. The other scam was in Bofor which is a small town in Switzerland. In this, a lot of Indian money was given to buy a gun which can shoot a coot.

Presently, India has a coalishun government made up of many parties, left, right and centre. It has started to library the economy. This means that there is now no need for a licence as the economy will be driven by itself.

India is also trying to become an Asian tiger because its own tigers are being poached. Another important event this year was the Shark Meeting at Malas Dive. At this place, shark leaders agreed to share their poverty, pollution and population.

An ode to Jagjeet Singh

Jagjeet Singh is no more! I and countless other fans all over the globe feel a sense of personal loss. It is like losing a very close relative or someone very near your heart.  Jagjeet Singh was the voice of an entire generation. Many of us who did not have an Urdu background developed a taste for the language and its poetry solely because of the magical voice of Jagjeet Singh.  Urdu ghazals came alive through his wonderful compositions. God had blessed him with a unique voice which was literally one in millions. His was the voice of poetry, the voice of romance, the voice of love, the voice of purity, the voice of devotion and much more to millions of us.

The same destiny, which had endowed him with a bounty of talent which endeared him to people all over the world; had deemed it fit to give an unhappy personal life. But mysterious are the ways of the Almighty and we, mere humans, cannot even begin to comprehend the vagaries of fate. But whatever Jagjeet Singh lost in the way of personal happiness; he poured it all out in his ghazals. His ghazals are an endless source of myriad emotions and generate a kaleidoscope of feelings.

Jagjeet Singh may have gone, but he will live in the hearts of his fans forever and his ghazals will continue to delight generations.

I am sure that music lovers all over the world will join me in praying for his soul.

Jagjeet Singh, may you find happiness, eternal peace and salvation at the feet of the Almighty. 

All and nothing- Book review

All and nothing by Raksha Bharadiya is a book that stands out in this crowd of new age Indian English Fiction! I picked it up form the Crossword store of Benguluru airport and finished it while waiting for my train at New Delhi railway station some four hours later. Now if a book can be finished in one continuous read, that does say something positive about its readability.

The central theme of the book is about life and relationships that define the existence of most of us. The story revolves round Tina, who falls in love with Aditya, a man yet to come to terms with his failed relationship with Antara. After years of matrimony, two kids and a bout of alcoholism, Tina sees Aditya going back to Antara. Emotionally shattered and alone, she tries to come to terms with her life as well as try to make sense of the lives of few of her friends. Then we have Manas, a kindred soul and his mercurial relationship with Gayatri.  There is Kriya, born to a celebrity father and struggling to hide her mediocrity by covering it with a veneer of success.  Poorvi, born with the proverbial silver spoon, has her own problems in life, mostly to do with her inability to produce a male heir for her family.  Upasna is a victim of recurrent domestic violence. You will have to read the book to find out whether they are able to come to terms with the vexing questions that plague their lives or not?

Raksha weaves this story of urban angst, relationships and contemporary life with a lot of skill and maturity. Her language is simple, yet elegant. The characters are well etched, the situations real and plausible, and at the same time she manages to ask uncomfortable questions about the male dominance in our society without getting too preachy.

As for weaknesses, there aren’t too many, but I think the liberal use of vernacular (Bangla, in this case) could have been avoided. The cover could have been a brighter colour than the deep melancholy blue but these are minor issues.  

Priced at a reasonable Rs.95.00 and published by Rupa, the book is strongly recommended for every booklover. I would rate it at 3.5/5. 

Book review- Chanakya's Chant

Chanakya’s Chant is a nice thick book. When you get so much of reading for the modest price 195.00, it is generally a god deal for the booklover. So did it come up to my expectations? I believe it did. Ashwin Sanghi manages to hold the readers interest throughout the 448 page novel and that is no mean feat.

Chanakya’s  Chant is a book that tells us two stories simultaneously. It is the story of Vishnu Dutt, the original political thinker this country has produced, better known as Chanakya or Kautilya to the historians. The novel goes back to the distant past (around 300 BC) and tells us the story of Chanakya’s epic lifetime struggle to put his protégé Chandragupta Maurya on the throne of Magadha and unite the entire country under his rule.

At the same time a parallel track of the novel tells us the story of Gangasagar Mishra, a modern day Chanakya, who schemes and plots his way through the murky passages of Indian politics to install his nominee, Chandni Gupta (the resemblance to Chandragupta is no coincidence, I believe) on the highest seat the country has to offer.The pace is fast and the interest does not flag despite the fact that the end is a forgone conclusion. Ashwin must have undertaken extensive research to produce this tale of political intrigue, deception, maneuvering, doublespeak and downright trickery as seen through the ages.  I enjoyed reading the book but it did leave me a bit dissatisfied. Reason? While the Chanakya story holds interest and offers us glimpse into the distant past, the story of Pandit Gangasagar Misra is a bit jaded and obvious. The situations and the twists are somewhat predictable and give you the feeling of having seen it all somewhere before. The liberal use of cuss words by the historical characters seems odd (to say the least) Now I wonder if the ancients (including the venerable Chanakya) were as free with profanities as the modern day Indians.

These little irritants apart, the book is indeed value for money and will be welcomed by fans of Indian English writing. I would rate the book as 3/5.

Interviews

If you would care to read some boring interviews of a nobody,

 click

here

and here

and here as well.

One more

Review of Down the Road- Gray Oak Publishers

first thing I did after finishing ‘Urban shots’ by Gray Oak was to order their next anthology ‘Down the Road’. It is a collection of school/college centric stories designed to evoke déjà vu in the youngsters and nostalgia in the not so young. (I prefer calling myself young at heart, slightly older in other places, but that is beside the point)

The book is packaged cleverly and has been promoted smartly. But is it as good as Urban Shots. Not to me at least( but it is almost there). The stories vary in content and quality. Some of them are extremely good.  Sorroricide by Paritosh Uttam ( I am fast turning into a fan, Paritosh) unleashes  powerful and moving emotions; The music room by Tra Trivedi packs a punch; Dimples and cute smiles ( Ranjani Iyer), Well placed ( Ahmed Faiyaz) and the The worm that turned ( Malathi Jaikumar) invoke humor without even trying too hard; Just a moment (Nikhil Rajagopalan) ,Learning and unlearning ( Rohini Kejarival) and Strangers in strange places( Abhijit Bhaduri) succeed in unlocking a strong sense of nostalgia; while Loves me, loves me not ( Vibhi Batra) is plain chilling. The rest of the stories run the entire gamut from good to indifferent/juvenile, but there is enough punch to keep the reader occupied.The pick of the authors? Kunal Dhabalia for An accidental start. But I don't understand why was Between friends ( Paritosh Uttam) repeated. It was featured in Urban Shots just a few months back.

I think Gray Oak is doing a yeoman’s service to the cause of English writing in India by leading a revival of the short story and this book is recommended for all lovers of short stories. My rating 3/5.

Book review- Urban Shots

I started the book with a lot of expectations because of two reasons. One, I am inordinately fond of short stories and two; this book came with high recommendations. I was disappointed initially as the first two stories failed to keep up to my expectations. But things picked up with Liberation ( Malathi Jaikumar), and from Notes of discord ( Paritosh Uttam) onwards the book  proved to be a worthy read.

The book is a compelling read, touching different facets of urban existence. The anthology has five sections sub-titled love, friendship, relationships, angst and longing; each consisting of an eclectic collection of short stories and straddling a gamut of emotions and feelings. What I particularly liked about the collection is that stories talk of situations and characters which are very real life and easily identifiable, sometimes the very ordinariness of the situation making it an extra-ordinary tale.

This is not a book to be read in a hurry. I would describe it as a cup of my favorite Darjeeling tea rather than a cup of Instant coffee. So the best way would be to sip it slowly, savoring every moment. Some stories are worth reading and re-reading. While the best three stories according to me are Serendipity, Stick figures and The biggest problem; the pick of the authors is undoubtedly Paritosh Uttam.

I would rate the debut book of Grey Oak publications as 3.5/5.

If you want to order a copy of the book on-line, click here.

P.S. And if the editors of this book are reading this, please please please drop me an email asking for a contribution, next time you do another collection of short stories. 

A battle won....

I would like to congratulate each and every citizen of our country for the first victory in the present war against corruption.  A word of caution here, the first battle has been won but the war is far from over. Still, the positives that have accrued from Anna’s ongoing fast against corruption have been numerous and the major ones need to be enumerated.

The first and foremost is a clear and unambiguous message to the political establishment that people cannot be taken for granted forever and they need to lose the power-drunkenness they are suffering from.  That politics is the last refuge of the scoundrel is a well known adage but it may change yet. The bureaucrat –politician- criminal nexus that has held this country ransom for so many years may find their immunity snatched away rather rudely.

Secondly, it has shredded the cloak of helplessness, hopelessness and apathy that had enveloped most of the citizens of this country and given them HOPE. Most of us had simply accepted that corruption has seeped into the very fabric of our nation and nothing can be done about it. Now we know that anything is possible and the mantra of Satyamev Jayate has been resurrected.

Thirdly, it has given us all a true leader whose whole life till today has been a saga of selflessness.

Also, it has highlighted the role positive activism can play in shaping the destiny of a nation. In addition to Anna Hazare, people like Arvind Kejrival, Kiran Bedi and Swami Agnivesh  will act as role models for our youth .

Moreover, it has shown the power of media. The principled and courageous coverage of the agitation by both print and electronic media was instrumental in the eventual victory of the people in this battle. I wish that our media keeps up the high standards of reporting demonstrated this time and serves the people of this nation without fear or favour.

Lastly, it has demonstrated the power of internet and social networks like blogs, facebook and twitter. The battle may have been fought at Jantar Mantar but it was won in the cyber-world and I am sure that this will act as a powerful weapon against corruption in future as well.

Once again, congratulations to all the soldiers of this mission and JAI HIND.

A wake up call

The battle lines are drawn. And the stand-off continues.  Anna does not seem to be a mood to relent. And the government continues to be magnificently unaware, reveling in an ostrich like attitude. Meanwhile, people from all walks of life continue to gravitate towards India Against Corruption, jolted out of the feeling of hopelessness, helplessness and stupor.

The media (both print and 24 hour news channels) have joined the battle, this time for a worthwhile cause.  The question is- Where do we go from here? What is going to happen now? I am no clairvoyant but this time I can sense the future happenings. So can every sensible person with a modicum of common sense. The only persons to be completely out of synch with reality seem to be the power drunk, bloated with their own sense of importance, ministers of Central Government.  They have gone to the extent of calling this Satyagraha coercive! So now the ideals of Gandhiji are coercive and against the tenants of democracy! Then please answer these questions!

 If this is undemocratic and coercive what was the freedom struggle?

And what is the difference between an imperial power/ dictatorship and a democratically elected government if they function in similar fashion?

If our politician- bureaucrat nexus is as honest as it claims to be, why is it scared of Jan Lokpal?

The Central Government is asking for more time. Time for what? Are they hoping that the protests will die off with time?

Why can’t the Prime Minister and the Chair-person of UPA intervene in the matter directly? Are they too big? Or they are still unable to understand the angst of the common citizen?

The citizens have woken up. It is high time the central government did. And please do not under- estimate the power of the ballot. If the government does not act now, the public will teach them a lesson in the next general election which is not all that far!

India against corruption- a common man's perspective

 The present fast to death for the implementation of Jan Lokpal Bill By Anna Hazare and the gradual flocking of enlightened citizens around him under the banner of India Against Corruption has triggered these thoughts, rather , a train of thoughts in my mind.

It is very good that at last someone is protesting against corruption. But is it a matter of too late, too less?  Will the institution of another watchdog, albeit with more teeth, solve the disease of corruption which has assumed epidemic proportions in our country? I rarely see honest Indians around nowadays. We travel in trains and buy half tickets for our above 12 children (asking them to tell TT uncle that they are eleven and a half when he comes.) We pay bribes for as mundane things as getting a birth certificate, ration card or a passport.  We don’t mind paying a little extra even for the smallest of our requirements (Suvidha shulk, it is called in Hindi). The so called noble professions like Teaching and Medicine have succumbed to the lure of the lucre. There is nothing called an honest or an upright politician in our country. The previously incorruptible branches of the system like the defence forces and the judiciary have become tainted. (The instance are too numerous to enumerate). Nothing and I mean nothing is sacrosanct, including conduct of entrance exams to premier institutions of the country. All the regulatory authorities need to be regulated. Now, will simplistic measures like institution of Jan Lokpal solve the problems facing our country?  And what about the huge economy of Black money that flourishes in our country, primarily sourced from corruption?

Vexing questions indeed and the answers prove to be elusive as usual. But then how do we explain the huge and spontaneous outpouring of support for the venerable Anna Hazare? Simple! However corrupt this nation has become, people have started to chafe under the yoke of this unending, blatant, all prevalent and unashamed corruption. They see the beginning of the end of hydra headed monster of corruption in Anna’s courageous fight. Maybe, one Jan Lokpal Bill will not solve all problems and like CVC and CEC, it will bend itself to the system. But at last, someone is protesting! Come on, my friends, let us wake up. Let us take inspiration from the clarion call-

ARISE, AWAKE, AND STOP NOT TILL THE GOAL IS ACHIEVED.

Let us dream of a better India, a corruption free India, and a new India.  There are so many of us. And if all put our hands together and push, I am sure that something will give. So join the protest, blog, tweet, use social netwoks but do something.

SPEAK  OUT AGAINST CORRUPTION.

Jai Hind

Book review- Battle for Bittora.

I have been a reader for most of my life. The recent boom in Indian English writing has made me very happy and I am one of the biggest fans of Indian English writing. It is indeed remarkable that India has produced so many writers who choose English as a medium of expression. But I have always felt, however good Indian writers are, a front where they have lagged behind is humour. Barring an occasional Jug Suraya, no one has really explored this particular genre well enough. When I started reading Battle for Bittora , I was expecting a nice breezy read with maybe a few startling insights into the rough and tumble world of electoral politics, but what took me by surprise was the inherent thread of subtle ( and at times, wicked) humour  running throughout the book.  Maybe the title should have alerted me to the author’s irrepressible sense of humour (Bittora in Hindi means a heap of cow dung). And that is the USP of this wonderful story of childhood friends who find themselves on opposite sides of an election.

Sarojini Pandey (Jinni) a twenty-five year old animator suddenly finds herself the candidate for parliamentary elections, thrust on the center stage by her grandmother, an aging but seasoned politician. Then we find out her opponent in the election is none other than Zain Altaf Khan (Zak), a close friend from her growing up days. The two meet after a long time and sparks fly when they discover that they are still hugely attracted to each other. The story moves forward in the dust and grime of Pavit Pradesh where the two engage in a no holds barred electoral battle as the candidates for Pragati Party (PP) and Indian Janta Party (IJP). (There are no prizes for seeing through the thinly disguised allusions to real political parties in present day India.) The curiosity about the eventual outcome eggs the reader on. Who will win? Jinni or Zak? And will they eventually succumb to the mutual attraction they feel despite being on different side of the great political divide? No, I am not going to spill the beans. You will have to read the book to find out.

And the book is good; in fact, very good. The characters are well etched and the pace nice. Sustaining the reader’s interest through-out in a 423 page narrative is no mean feat. Yes, it has a few weaknesses, the main one being that the author looks at the political process through rose tinted glasses. The truth on the ground is far more crude and cruel. But then, the book it has its strengths as well. I have already told you that I loved the inherent sense of fun and the wicked humour.  I also liked the fact that the book is unabashedly and unapologetically Indian.   It has been written for the Indian reader with no footnotes to explain the Hindi words / Indian perspectives that creep in to (prospective?) foreign readers.  (How many of them read our books anyway?)

I will rate this book as 3.5 /5. If you want to order a copy on line please click here .

The best of Satyajit Ray- published by Penguin

I am writing this review with the express motive of highlighting a relative unknown facet of the versatile genius, Satyajit Ray. Well known as a brilliant movie maker, he was honoured by an Oscar for lifetime achievement and a Bharat Ratna in 1992. But apart from this, he was a brilliant writer who excelled in writing for children. His stories (written originally in Bangla), though primarily written for children, have a huge following in adults, who discovered subtle shades and hidden messages in them. In addition to many short stories about super sleuth Feluda (thirty five) and super scientist Professor Shonku (forty), he wrote some seventy five short stories, mostly about the super-natural and the unexpected.

And this book contains twenty one of those, some translated from original Bangla by the master himself and the rest by Gopa Majumdar. The short stories are a rare blend of humour, intrigue, supernatural, science fiction and the unexpected. In fact, when I hark back to my childhood, when I grew up reading these stories in Bangla, I realize that it was my first taste of the exotic. And some thirty years later, when I read the translated version, I found that their charm has only increased over time.  The stories will take you to a world that has an undying appeal and the twists in each and every story will leave you breathless. Ray’s world has ghosts (both friendly and malignant), aliens in unexpected shapes, carnivorous plants and extinct animals making an appearance in everyday life. There are brilliant descriptions, vivid passages blending with a rare economy of words. The first twenty stories are those which are popularly classified as Ray’s children stories and the last one Pikoo’s Diary was specifically written by Ray for adults. It is perhaps a very fitting end to this extraordinary book. (Incidentally, it was made into a tele-film by Ray in 1981)

The book has been published by Penguin and I will recommend it to each and every booklover. 

The unfulfilled promise...........

Now there was this kingfisher girl

Who had the country all in a whirl.

By promising to strut her stuff

And running around in the buff

If on the field our team did swirl.

Hey Poonam, this ain't fair,

Your assets you did not bare

We all think it is pretty mean

That you were nowhere to be seen.

And vanished after losing the dare.

The kingfisher  gal is pretty cool

First, she make the nation drool.

In anticipation, we moan and sigh

She vanishes without even a bye

While gleefully shouting APRIL FOOL

Cocktail - short stories by Vikram Karve

First and foremost, three cheers for APK Publishers for publishing a book of short stories. Almost everybody in the publishing industry (from publishers to agents to writers) assure me that short stories do not sell unless from a celebrity pen and are therefore unpublishable.  It is heartening to see that Prashant Karhade of APK does not subscribe to this philosophy.

Now coming to Vikram Karve, a familiar name to those who have been following his blogs on Sulekha.com, this is his first collection of short stories. He writes about today’s urban lifestyle, about love (and lack of it), life, relationships, desires (both fulfilled and unfulfilled), yearning and boredom. His characters are real life and well etched. The twenty seven stories traverse familiar ground, invoking in the reader feelings as diverse as joy, pathos and at times amusement. But there is a problem. After a while, the emotions get repetitive. Most of the heroes are bearded, he-man, master mariner types;  the women are sexy and attractive (usually dressed in tight fitting pink t-shirts tucked into hip hugging jeans) and certain phrases(Drying a divorcee’s tears is one of the most dangerous pastimes known to a man) and situations appear multiple times. That does not mean that the book is not an enjoyable read. I loved some of the stories.Lovedale touched my heart, Parting Gift is both sad and funny, Rendezvous at sunrise is different, A lazy hot afternoon in Mumbai is exquisite, Deccan Queen ingenious, Freedom is honest and Chilled beer is well, chilling. Some stories do not work that well (Every dog has his day is corny,Electrophoresis is plain silly) but none of them can be called bad.

Karve writes well and did surprise me with a few words I had not heard /read before (must get myself a good dictionary, the one in Microsoft Word has serious limitations). Overall, a good attempt and a must read for short story buffs. (My rating 3/5)

To buy the book online, please click here.

BOREDOM

Boredom is a feeling / emotion/ expression/ impression/ sentiment/  mood peculiar to humans. We have phrases like midlife crisis/ quarter life crisis/ bored housewife/ its lonely at the top/ existentialist dilemma, all related to this peculiar emotion. And only humans get bored.  Plants, animals, spirits and even the Gods never get bored. Just imagine a tree getting bored (it well might if it was human, after all it remains rooted to the same spot year after year.) Or an amoeba getting bored of binary fission or a dog or a horse or a tiger saying, “Dude, it’s so boring! Nothing is happening in my life!”

Ever heard of a bored ghost?? Or the creator getting bored with this predictably crazy world?? No! The exclusive lease on the word boredom has been taken by humans. Not only that, we humans coined many words to describe the same feeling. Bored with boredom? Take your pick from tedium, monotony, dullness, ennui, worldly weariness and tediousness.

We are bored with success and failure, work and studies, love and hate, play and toil, penury and wealth, sobriety and intoxication; in fact, we get bored of every conceivable situation.  While this hunger for variety/ change in humans is responsible for every scientific and technological advance; this is also responsible for a major chunk of problems in an individual’s life.

And is there a solution to the vexing problem of monotony? I would say the answer lies with us. The solution is to have a positive attitude. The scepter of boredom can be taken head-on only if individuals try to live life being as creative and as productive as possible. This can be done if we work hard, play harder, develop hobbies, make good friends and treasure our family. What do you say?

Super moon

Yesterday was supposed to be a Super moon day, when the moon would appear to be bigger, brighter and clearer. The romantics flooded the social network sites with moonlit night songs from you tube, the 24 hour news channels had a great time with doomsday predictions, the photographers waited with bated breaths, telephoto lenses and digital cameras while most of the world was, well, indifferent. It was just another night, wasn't it!

The weather gods decided to play spoilsport and there were scattered clouds since afternoon. And when night came, the clouds persisted making it look more like a no moon night. The moon did appear for a few minutes in its full splendour but it appeared like any other full moon day. Looked the same like last month and the month before that. Now this is not to deride the beauty of a full moon night or its charm but the hype about Super moon turned out be  be just hype.

I observed that almost everyone on the street was taking photos of the moon with mobile cameras which is a bit like trying to slay a tiger by shooting at it with a pea shooter. I am sure the images that eventually emerge from them would resemble those of a scooter headlight.

Anyway, here are two photograph of yesterday's full moon for you ( and they have not been taken by a mobile camera).

The other side

My contribution to Chicken Soup for the Indian Doctor's soul -  (published by Westland.) Link to the  book

 I was a robust young man of thirty two years and doing well in life. My practice as a pediatrician was well established, I had just brought my first car and life was good. I had worked pretty hard to achieve my standing as one of the better doctors of my town. I worked on Sundays and holidays, never turned down an emergency and worked unearthly hours. I did not even slow down when fatigued or sick. I simply popped a painkiller and carried on.

I still remember that fateful morning very clearly. I woke up at 4.00 AM with severe pain in my neck. I was slightly disoriented with sleep and the pain was unbearable. I called up a fellow physician and asked for advice.

“If the pain is unbearable, take an analgesic. I’ll send over a nurse to give you the injection and we’ll get you investigated in the morning.” He advised.

The nurse came and gave me the jab. After a few minutes I felt a sudden weakness of my right hand. I was half asleep by then as the pain had subsided just a bit. I just decided to go back to sleep with the hope that I would be fine when I woke up.

When I woke up some two hours later, I realised that my right hand and leg were completelyparalysed and I could not move them. Now that triggered off a major alarm and a lot of doctor friends descended, examined me and tried to reach a diagnosis. On failing to reach a consensus, they decided that I would be better off in an institution. So I was bundled in a wheelchair and we caught the next train to New Delhi.

We reached in the evening and made our way to G B Pant Hospital. As we reached late, none of the consultants were available. However, the resident on duty admitted me and assigned me a bed in the general ward as there was a month long waiting list for private rooms. (Those were the days before the five star private healthcare establishments and health insurance had flooded the country)

I had virtually grown up in those surroundings as most of my life had been spent working in government hospitals; first as a student, then a trainee and later a consultant but for the first time in my life, I found myself on the other side of the divide. The ward was dirty, the toilets stinky, and all the beds were occupied by patients in even worse condition than me. That was the longest night of my life. I could not sleep as the pain in my neck had returned with a vengeance. I did not know whether I would ever be able to stand or walk again in my life. Frightening visions of dreadful diseases like cancer, nerve degeneration and other unknown entities kept playing in my minds eye. I realised that the uncertainty of the diagnosis was playing on my mind. 

The night of misery passed (they always do) and the morning brought hope in form of Dr. A. K. Singh, the professor of Neurosurgery. The whole day was taken up by extensive investigations he ordered, and evening found me in his office on a wheelchair.

“Vivek, I have studied your case in detail, and frankly, it is confusing. Your paralysis is due to a lesion in the neck. The MRI has revealed a fluid collection in the cervical spine which is pressing on the spinal cord. The radiologist suggests a possibility of tuberculosis but I am not convinced. We have two options; we either put you on anti-tubercular drugs empirically or open up your spine to see what the problem is.  If required, we may even take a biopsy during the surgery. If you wish, you may even go in for a second opinion.” Dr. Singh said.

“Sir! What would you suggest?” I asked.

“Given a free hand I would do a laminectomy and take a look. The fluid collection at that place is definitely odd and something tells me it is not TB. But opening the cervical spine is tricky business and there is always the possibility of complications. You are a doctor and that is making me hesitate. Why don’t you take a second opinion?”

It was then I made the most important decision of my life. “Sir! I have full faith in you. Go ahead with the Surgery.”

The good doctor was still hesitant, “Vivek, are you sure? Why don’t you discuss the matter with your family before reaching a decision?”

I simply reiterated my faith in him and God and asked him to go ahead.

Next afternoon I was wheeled into the operation theater. As the anesthetist started the pre-operative drugs, I had a sudden panic attack. “I am not getting out of here alive,” the thought which was at the back of my mind came to the fore with a blinding flash and frightening certainty. However, I managed to hold on my faith in God and the Surgeon. The drugs took hold and I slipped into oblivion. I woke up after a few hours. I realized two things. First, I was still in the realm of the living; second, I had not been shifted out of the operation theater. I saw an unknown face peering at me and asked him, “May I talk to Dr. Singh please?”

“He left around half an hour back after completing the surgery. I am the anesthetist and was waiting for you to come around.”

“Could you please tell me what was the per-operative diagnosis?”

“Nothing! There was no significant disease. We found just a small blood clot that was pressing on the spinal cord and causing the paralysis. I will be shifting you to the recovery room and you should be able to move in a couple of days.

Dr. Singh visited me in the evening and clarified that all the symptoms were caused by a simple clot of blood and there was no evidence of any other pathology. I walked out the hospital a week later and have been absolutely normal for last fifteen years.

Later, I realised that all the analgesics I had been taking off and on had precipitated the bleed. I have forgotten the sufferings, the mental and physical anguish and the feeling of helplessness and hopelessness of those days but not the lessons learnt from the episode.

The suffering has made me a better human being and a better doctor. Now I know how it feels to be on the other side. I realise that however bad things may seem at a particular point of time; tomorrow is always better. Now the motto of my life is, this too, shall pass. I understand that one must always keep faith in the treating doctor and in God. And instead of offering sympathy to my little patients and their parents, I give them empathy. Lastly, since that day I have never abused analgesics or overprescribed them to my patients.




To order the book online click here