Book Review- A Calendar too Crowded

As a kid we all have heard stories that were aimed at inculcating virtues, manners and good qualities. This book is a collection of stories which have a similar intent; however the only difference is that, it is meant for all of us – irrespective of what age we are.

 The book covers a range of issue facing females in our society. It raises tough questions that we have been shying away to answer as a society. The book achieves this daunting feat of raising the level of understanding and awareness about several complex issues by a very simple yet enjoyable writing across all the stories and poems.

To review this book just as a collection of story and a work of fiction would be a mistake. It is as much a piece of literature as it is of research into a social science. The depth of research that has gone into the making of this book is commendable, maturity in dealing with issues has been high class and the sensitivity in presentation is extraordinary.

Be it the confusion and frustration of a girl entering her first menstrual cycle, anger and ambitions of a young feminist who wants to change the world overnight, the fatigue of a middle-aged mother who has resignedly adjusted to the injustice of certain degree, anguish of an accomplished lady, serene satisfaction and pride of a successful housewife and many other facets of a woman’s life are covered in different stories.

The precision and careful description of every situation shows the powerful observation on the part of author, as she really brings all the scenes alive in the readers’ mind. . At times the author is ruthlessly honest which frees the book from stereotype feminist expressions which put women on either of the extremes.

 Moreover the range of expressions, issues and insights covered are also indicative of the depth and thought that have gone into making of these short stories and poems. References to the traditions and some of the characters of ancient epics also draw a useful and elaborative parallel between the social conditions of women across different times.  And the situations of protagonists in each story ensure that the author has covered the issues faced by women across the entire life cycle.

This book can be a great means to form a cogent argument for women empowerment at a societal level, and it can also be equally great help to you to understand the different roles that a woman plays your life a little better. Either ways, it serves a noble purpose.

Needless to say, it is worth reading and Sagarika has done a fabulous job!

Dhruv

Life is like that....!!

At first I did not recognize him; however his face seemed similar and known. After pressing a little harder on the memory chip, I recollected that he was my classmate from school.

On meeting him, I told him that he looked quite different in office attire and with a suitcase of course! “I have become a professional now.” He answered with a slight grin.

From his face I could gather the sense of victory he had in his mind. He had been working for a life insurance company as an agent and had done quite successfully. Later he also took up the agency work for mutual funds and other financial products.

As an MBA I have been infected with the habit of asking stereotype (yet intelligent looking) questions to all irrespective of our own knowledge about the entire story.

So I asked “what is the best and the worst part of your job?” “You MBAs are so much like each other!!! Almost everyone asks similar questions!!” He told this time with a slight disgust in his voice.

I wanted to protect the sheen of our creed, but sensing his anger I remained silent and seconded his opinion. At times people vent the anger of their failure by disparaging others, and this old pal of mine was doing the same thing.

If somebody is doing wrong, someone has to set him right! So I extended my inquiry and argument further after I thought that he had cooled off. “Questions may be similar but the way we all process answers may be different.” He looked back sternly, this time. However, I had made up my mind not to let it go this time, and elaborated on my question a bit. “What is it you think that makes your mutual fund products sell you think?” I waited for the answer, none came.

Finally, I thought to myself “One last try... Change the question a little bit more...” I asked “what do you like the most about stock markets, or mutual funds?”

“You know what…” he started answering, satisfying my hubris. “My life is very similar to that of a performance of mutual fund or Stock market over the long run, that’s what I like the most about it.” I kept quiet hoping that he would elaborate on what he just said. He did. “There may be crashes in between, due to reasons that are unfathomable, out of control or even out of imagination, but after some times the returns set the losses off. The only thing you need to have is the courage to bear the losses and time enough to let wounds heal on their own. One more thing, you should never try to understand it ahead of its time.”

I realized how Fickle is the power that we draw from our advantageous background, schooling, upbringing and qualification when it comes to stand up to some of the unavoidable circumstances that life has to offer. It’s something more than we study that really matters.

This episode taught two very significant things, first was that making inferences from limited data may be quite intelligent but it can be grossly unjust to apply that thing to individuals, we never really know what battles the other person may be fighting. And second was that life indeed is perhaps like Mutual funds and stock market, “full of ups and downs, signifying nothing!!”

A walk on Marine Drive!

It is strange how one photograph put up on facebook can send you back in time and force you to remember all that was so close by some time back!!

Titled as “Queen’s necklace” this photograph showed Marine Drive of Mumbai. This was a place where I had spent first 8 months of my professional life. This place has lot of significance to me as it was the only source of solace in an otherwise hectic and ruthless life.

Walking on this long road was one of the favourite stress busters of mine. The place has something that takes you completely off from the present problems. It makes you reflect on larger, better and more beautiful things!!

Apart from the natural and scenic beauty that the place offers due to proximity to the sea, it is also a symbol of modern day life in many ways. A long walk along that road reflects all that the life throws at us. Road has two sides, one that goes towards all the corporate offices, workplaces, shopping complexes and hotels, the other side, as we all know is a sea face. A simple observation reveals that during office hours on weekdays you see legions of people on the other side and nights give way to crowd on the sea face side. This is truly a time when everyone switches off their official side and focus on the personal one! That sea has a great role in it I guess.

The crowd that we find there is a fairly representative of all classes. The original SOBO crowd with apparels, gadgets and a pride in their walk which differentiate them from the rest of us on that road, couples – some romancing, others fighting, professionals who are just tired of the toiling day they had in office, youngsters having good time, aged ones feeling the peace, people talking on phone while walking alone, artists, hawkers (selling everything from snacks to soda), beggars, etc.

The design of the road is such that if you are walking across you would not be too far off from people sitting on the sideline in order to have a conversation in front of the sea. A silent walker across on Marine drive inadvertently becomes a passive listener to all these conversations, debates, rifts, general talks that people sitting there are having. Following are some of the choicest conversations that a silent walker still remembers, may be because they signified something more about that place, that city, and this life.

Old man (to his wife): “He’s still in early twenties, it will take him some time to find sync with life and career… you worry unnecessarily….” As one walked half retort from his wife could be heard which said “when we were of his age………”

Man 1 (to man 2): “The problem with politics is that it is always divisive, cast, creed, religion were the divides till now, going ahead there will be classes….. we will always be fragmented.”

Man 2 replied “Yes. May be…”

Boy (to a girl): Isn’t it great to be at a place where nobody knows you, and you know nobody? Girl replied, “What does it mean, to know someone?” Since no sound came for some seconds, one was forced to cast a look at their direction; soon one could see what it means to know someone.

Young man (on phone): “that’s great news, congratulations!! Of course I will come, what are the dates? Oh Oh….. I guess it will be tad tough for me to get leaves during that time, still will check and let ya know..”

All such conversations force one to speak to oneself, about life and its possibilities…. It makes us more prepared, cautious and tolerant. One of the most brilliant things it does to you lies in assurance that whatever may be your stage, situations or worry, you are not the only one in world facing it- there are many of us in this same boat called LIFE. So Brace yourselves and counter it with all the might….

Along with this comes another realization…. It’s getting late, will have to go home and sleep or else the local of 7:58 will be missed… and the subsequent one is even more crowded!! J

Meeting of a lost friend!!

Nearly everyone I knew was planning a trip, movie, outing, lunch, dinner or just a get together with one’s group of friends for celebration of this friendship’s day. I was a little wonderstruck about this entire euphoria; I called a few of my friends and wished them, what I considered a needless formality, “Happy Friendship Day”.

Out of envious curiosity, I also enquired about their schedules. “We all will be going out” was a reply from first, “May be a lunch or dinner followed by a film” was what I heard from second, “Visiting a farmhouse at the outskirts of the city” was the answer from third. I felt a little uneasy about being absent from all these celebrations. A strong sense of being left aside and cast away crept into my mind right from afternoon and it just kept increasing as the day went on. The thought of getting onto a busy week ahead at work was of no help in alleviating the discomfort of perceived loneliness.

I visited a tea stall near my room twice, just to keep myself engaged, also did some grocery shopping for myself. Shopping felt good, but it soon faded away as I found that I had nothing to do for entire evening ahead. The next thing I took up was re-arranging my wardrobe; however this too did not last long. I realized that being alone was not particularly painful but being alone when almost all others you know are busy celebrating or partying is particularly painful to an anxious, six day working and young individual’s mind!!!

On this relieving realization, I came to know that all this while I was worrying about missing all my friends in various parts of country; I was also neglecting one particular friend of mine. In fact it was only this friend of mine who had truly been with me through all thick and thin. I took that classic collection of pages and started turning them over one after the other. The touch of the pages, sound made while scribbling a thought or two in margin, the smell of ink spread across making words and the thrilling interaction that reading provides to mind transformed me in a matter of seconds. I rediscovered a joy of finding an old friend at a really crunch time.

Schopenhauer was indeed right when he said, “I have never known any trouble that an hour’s reading cannot assuage.”

Delhi ki sardi and Bombay ki baarish

There was a knock on my room’s door at 2’o clock in a chilling winter night, (if you have/are staying in a hostel, you know that it is never too late to knock anyone’s door.) I opened and found that one of my friends wanted me to go to the balcony and see the view outside. At first I found it a little strange but then realized that my friend must be indicating to the infamous fog that one gets to see in Delhi during winters. When I went to my balcony I found to my amazement that even the building and trees next to our hostel were no longer visible to me!

This was my first encounter with infamous/famous “Delhi ki Sardi” and the fog that it invariably brings. Winters in Delhi were chilling and freezing. For someone like me who had never seen temperature falling below 15C, Delhi ki sardi was an eye opener!!!! I realized how valued a warm blanket and a wardrobe of woollen clothes are. I spent two winters there, the second one was longer and far more chilling than the first one, though I had also grown seasoned with time.

During winters people suddenly start looking fatter, not because of the increase in calories intake but because of the whole layer of woollen clothes that one has to put on to survive!!

Another thing that becomes almost impossible in that weather is to wake up early in morning. I knew many early risers but even they succumbed to the weather and preferred to be in the den of their blankets till late. J On the fun side, Delhi ki sardi offers a lot of things too; I recollect the fun we had in having boiled eggs, maggie, warm soups and tea/ coffee in those cool times. For me the discomfort that Delhi ki sardi brought in terms of temperature was more than offset by the amazement of its experience, chance to sleep till late, and delicious food that one enjoyed there.

Just after a couple of months when I arrived in Bombay, a caring friend cautioned me about the monsoon and problems it brings along. I told him that having seen Delhi ki Sardi I am attuned to adjust in any and every kind of weather.

However soon I realized that running behind an inverted umbrella was not so easy a thing to do. Rain disturbs the traffic even more than the fog perhaps, and given the kind of space we have in Bombay it just makes the matters worse. However, rains too have many brilliant things to offer. Tea and Pakoras/ aloo chop/ bhajiyas, are the best things that can happen to you if you are stuck somewhere in the rain. And if you are in love, there is nothing more romantic than Bombay rains they say!!!!

Both Bombay ki baarish and Delhi ki Sardi, being forms of nature had many things in common too. Both impact the daily lives significantly, flights get delayed, trains are rescheduled, taxi drivers and auto drivers certainly become scarce commodity and at extremes life comes to a standstill. Both cause some discomfort to our lives, in Delhi one feels frozen constantly and in Bombay one just can’t move out freely. Even if you go out with an umbrella it will either get inverted or you will become frustrated as your umbrella will keeps hitting others’ umbrellas!!!!

But given the kind of lifestyle both these cities offer, such weather is a blessing in disguise, I guess. It gives one a chance to pause, ponder and perceive things with a little more clarity. It also reiterates that nature rules our lives and not the other way around.

It does not matter if one is in Delhi or in Bombay, whenever the weather gives you a breather, take it happily, sip a coffee or a tea and give some thought to those things you have been neglecting since long in your life. Life is beautiful!!!

Dil se Delhi Man se Mumbai

“You don’t engage in Delhi-Mumbai argument as vigorously as others from Delhi do!!” said one of my friend’s friends. For a moment, I felt ashamed for not having rooted for Delhi, in an argument as to which of the two is a better city to live in.

Just as I was about to tell her how pathetic I found the locals, that I do not understand why people are so crazy about that Wada-Pau, that I do not like to sweat so much, that I don’t see any greatness in running around like mad for entire day and night, that I hate pronunciation of “RE” at every possible place in the sentence etc etc……. my Mumbaikar (Mumbaiya) friend chipped in, “he’s not a Delhite, he is a Gujju.”

This is the first time I felt as if a part of my being was torn away. Something very personal to me was snatched away. I had spent two years in Delhi, and really loved the place a lot. I thought myself very much as a Delhite.

Gulping this feeling, I came back home. However this little encounter made me think about the question which is a root to many heated debates, which is a better city? Delhi or Bombay?

Personally speaking, I miss Delhi. I know the reason for this is largely because of the fact that life there was surrounded by great friends and college was also great fun. Bombay on the other hand is another field. Here the people I interact with are mostly my colleagues. Friendships may develop over the time but “usme woh baat kahaan?” feeling will always be there for these colleague-friends.

In addition to fond memories, Delhi also ranks ahead in terms of the public transport. “Delhi Metro Rocks, Mumbai local sucks” was a message I sent one day to one of my friends while travelling here in locals. Arguments can be made for the kind of load that Locals take each day, but believe me efficiency can never be a substitute of discipline and good ambience. Delhi also feels lot more spacious as compared to Bombay. For those who relish space, there is no better place than Delhi.

If reading this much makes you think I am trying to be an ardent Delhite, hold your horses. Despite its all seemingly unpleasant characteristics, I find Mumbai too quite cool. One of the most important thing, different from Delhi, is that this city is run by market power and not political power!! Everything is so easily accessible and available, at its price. This fact is as risky as it is wonderful. Bombay is brimming with opportunities; there is something here for everyone. Another aspect where it ranks ahead of Delhi is overall safety of citizens. The city makes one feel at ease, at home.

Bombay and Delhi, the two biggest cities of our nation are indeed different, reasons I like them are also different. However one strand of similarity can be found from the fact that both these cities is the fact that both gives one an opportunity to meet people from entire country, entire world perhaps. And this challenging fact makes life so very interesting!

Book Review - Chinaman the Legend of Pradeep Mathew

“I find myself in the same position as the internationals who dared tour apartheid South Africa in 1980s. I am universally shunned.” This line best describes the storyteller of this novel. W.G. Karunsena is an old cynic, sports journalist.

He has been fired from three magazines, ridiculed by his peers, distrusted by his wife and disappointed by his son and has a diminishing life (thanks to alcoholism). Yet the fact remains, he too has a story to tell. And it is a story that, I bet will interest many of us.

W.G. Karunasena (henceforth, WG) is obsessed by the miraculous and mysterious character in Sri Lankan cricket, Pradeep Sivanathan Mathew. According to him, Mathew was the greatest spin bowler their country had ever produced. However, the mystery begins when there is not a single record available against his name. It looks like this character has been purposely deleted, erased and rubbed off from the canvas of Sri Lankan cricket. What could be the reason behind this? Was it due to his unbridled and brash attitude, his lack of fitness, involvement in match fixing or was it something hereditary?

His father was a Tamil and mother Sinhala. That too in a nation which has seen havocs in the name of differences between these two sets of people.

Ever wondered why we call ourselves world champion, despite the fact that all we have won is matches against just handful of countries!!!

Perhaps a sport has a great role in the way people of the nation see themselves. It is a defining part of any nationality, especially so if you are hailing from subcontinent and if the sport you love starts from C!

This fact has played out significantly in the novel, which in its search of this mysterious, mythical genius reveals certain aspects of the social-political and national structure of Sri Lanka. During these descriptions we find that Sri Lanka has some strong similarities with India when it comes to the social texture.

Nagging relatives, craving for social approval, bomb blasts, fear of both the makers and breakers of law, father-son differences, sacrifices for friends, cynicism for the system and last but the most, craze for cricket!!! We are indeed very similar.

WG breaks out of all these vagaries of day to day life through his passionate and poignant hunt f Mathew. It is through this search that he finds himself also. He anticipates his end, and plans last few months of his life extremely well. Despite all the planning, he could only achieve 2 out of the 10 things that he wanted to do before his death. His son, Garfield, sees it and thinks that he can improve the score to at least 5 out of 10 for his dead dad. (Another similarity to India).

The story ends in Garfield, finally meeting the master called, Pradeep Mathew, and writing his story fully. He even gets it published despite scheming and plotting by the Sri Lankan cricket board and politicians.

Since the narrator is a drunkard some parts of story make reader feel dislocated at times, but in the end it seems that this dislocation was by choice and not by design.

In the end, I was unable to conclude if this was a story of the old man who gave street cricket in Sri Lanka something that it always lacked, in the form of accurate LBW decisions. Or it is a story of a man who gave Sri Lankan national cricket team what it always lacked, self belief, aggression and brashness and made them the real lions.

I was also unable to conclude if the man called Pradeep Mathew ever existed, who was right in the tussle between WG and his son Garfiel, did Johnny, a Brit and WG’s friend actually sodomized kids in Sri Lanka, was WG a mad man….. the list of inconclusive is long,

But one thing that I could conclude was that,

if the sweetest sound you've ever heard is leather on willow, if some of the most exciting moments of your life have consisted of watching a five-day match end in a draw, if the most important question around the partition of the subcontinent is "who would have made it into Undivided India's cricket team in any era?", if your mind keeps returning to that one extraordinary spell by a bowler (say, Mohammad Zahid to Brian Lara at the Gabba, 1997) who, for one reason or another, couldn't hold his place in the national side, if no amount of scandal and venality within the game can keep you from spending weeks or even months living in a different time zone from the one in which you're physically present – then this book could be the best thing to happen to your life since the Ashes/World Cup/away series win against the best team in the world[1].

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[1] http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2011/may/07/chinaman-shehan-karunatilaka-review?INTCMP=SRCH