The guests have left - both short and long term ones. A and I have the house to ourselves after nearly a year; we are slightly unsure what to do now. The bank holiday weekend started off with a marathon cleaning spree - almost a means of reclaiming the house for ourselves. After that successful experiment, we now feel a bit better. Things are back in the places we would like to have them, the mess is self created and hence invisible to the eye.
We are also acutely aware of the fact that this peace, quiet and tranquility is going to be short-lived and that we have just about 5 and a half months of it to ourselves. And that although we are still thinking of ourselves as the 'two of us', in a few months its going to be all about the 'three of us'. This thought comes with mixed emotions. While we are excited to bits that we are having a baby, there is a part of us that wants to hold on to each other for a little longer.
We had our first scan last week and saw the little one jumping about, waving, doing all kinds of unimaginable things inside. We nearly yelled with joy. Excited and hungry, we went to our favorite Thai joint for a celebratory lunch - we just couldn't stop smiling - that little bundle of joy was our creation - we had created her/him (don't know yet) all by ourselves!
Oh, if only I could pop some champagne right now! As it is, will have to make do with orange juice for the moment! :-)
Monday, 25 August 2008
Sunday, 10 August 2008
Religion, intolerance, fear and bananas
Given my present physical and mental state, I have little patience with many things that I would previously have 1. ignored, 2. laughed at and ignored, 3. silently abused the perpetrator and ignored. Since I am unable to do any of the above now, I fret and fume and drive myself into an angry frenzy. While I continue to look forward to an end to this disturbing state, allow me to narrate this one incident to you, and you can judge me as you like.
A 'friend' is staying with us at the moment. Please note, I use the term 'friend' in the loosest possible sense. This friend had previously exhibited great interest in reading, especially thrillers. Now you know that I am not the biggest thrill-seeker, but I was instantly reminded of Mohsin Hamid's The Reluctant Fundamentalist. I have recently read it and would recommend it to anyone who claims to have a passing interest in the written word and the contemporary world order. My friend claimed he was interested in both. I heartily gave him my copy.
This happened a couple of days back. In the meanwhile, I noticed that Hamid had been kept aside and his place had been taken by a suspense thriller that has accidentally found its way into my book shelves, I know not from where. I thought perhaps Hamid's style did not agree with my friend's taste and left it at that. Not everyone has to like everything I read - not everyone has to like Hamid.
So it came as a nasty surprise to me when my friend approached me a couple of hours ago and said, "Can you give me something to read, something completely in the nature of fiction, something simple and lighthearted." While I scanned my bookshelves and selected mentally a list of options, he went on to add, "and please, nothing of the kind where a Muslim bugger is telling his story." My thoughts stopped dead in their tracks. EXCUSE ME? I shouted in my head - suffice it to say, I would have had a fight then and there if I could.
While A distracted the friend with something inoffensively un-Islamic, a sequence of incidents that have happened over the last few days rushed through my mind. The mild censoring of my choice of music (Sufi=Islamic according to some), the constant reference to one strand of my ancestry, and the constant praises showered on the deep-rootedness and past and present glories of the Dravidian culture have all been adding up to this moment. In the midst of the anger and disbelief, one question bothered me most - why does it bother me so much?
So I am technically a Hindu. But to be honest, I have been brought up in such a mixed environment of religions, atheism and cultures that I truly don't care for these identities anymore. I seamlessly blend into both religious and non-religious groups. The concept of god is more utilitarian than anything else. More than anything else, both A and I believe in being and doing good, minding our own business and accepting people with all their diversities. What is so wrong with that?
Perhaps that is why I cannot tolerate intolerance. What right does anyone have to consider him/herself better than another person? You may not agree with the views of a 'Muslim bugger' but how rigid are you that you won't even hear his views? And you believe yourself to be a good human being? I am afraid, definitions of 'good' appear to be very different.
After agonising over this issue, it was decided that the only what to settle the mind and the rumbling tummy was with a banana. At least the banana doesn't care who eats it, Hindu or Muslim. And it soothes my nerves and tummy despite my questionable taste in music. I say we should have a religion based on nature, a religion that is nurturing and uplifting like Abida's singing, rainbows, bear hugs and bananas. Who knows, religion might actually be of some use to humanity then.
A 'friend' is staying with us at the moment. Please note, I use the term 'friend' in the loosest possible sense. This friend had previously exhibited great interest in reading, especially thrillers. Now you know that I am not the biggest thrill-seeker, but I was instantly reminded of Mohsin Hamid's The Reluctant Fundamentalist. I have recently read it and would recommend it to anyone who claims to have a passing interest in the written word and the contemporary world order. My friend claimed he was interested in both. I heartily gave him my copy.
This happened a couple of days back. In the meanwhile, I noticed that Hamid had been kept aside and his place had been taken by a suspense thriller that has accidentally found its way into my book shelves, I know not from where. I thought perhaps Hamid's style did not agree with my friend's taste and left it at that. Not everyone has to like everything I read - not everyone has to like Hamid.
So it came as a nasty surprise to me when my friend approached me a couple of hours ago and said, "Can you give me something to read, something completely in the nature of fiction, something simple and lighthearted." While I scanned my bookshelves and selected mentally a list of options, he went on to add, "and please, nothing of the kind where a Muslim bugger is telling his story." My thoughts stopped dead in their tracks. EXCUSE ME? I shouted in my head - suffice it to say, I would have had a fight then and there if I could.
While A distracted the friend with something inoffensively un-Islamic, a sequence of incidents that have happened over the last few days rushed through my mind. The mild censoring of my choice of music (Sufi=Islamic according to some), the constant reference to one strand of my ancestry, and the constant praises showered on the deep-rootedness and past and present glories of the Dravidian culture have all been adding up to this moment. In the midst of the anger and disbelief, one question bothered me most - why does it bother me so much?
So I am technically a Hindu. But to be honest, I have been brought up in such a mixed environment of religions, atheism and cultures that I truly don't care for these identities anymore. I seamlessly blend into both religious and non-religious groups. The concept of god is more utilitarian than anything else. More than anything else, both A and I believe in being and doing good, minding our own business and accepting people with all their diversities. What is so wrong with that?
Perhaps that is why I cannot tolerate intolerance. What right does anyone have to consider him/herself better than another person? You may not agree with the views of a 'Muslim bugger' but how rigid are you that you won't even hear his views? And you believe yourself to be a good human being? I am afraid, definitions of 'good' appear to be very different.
After agonising over this issue, it was decided that the only what to settle the mind and the rumbling tummy was with a banana. At least the banana doesn't care who eats it, Hindu or Muslim. And it soothes my nerves and tummy despite my questionable taste in music. I say we should have a religion based on nature, a religion that is nurturing and uplifting like Abida's singing, rainbows, bear hugs and bananas. Who knows, religion might actually be of some use to humanity then.
Friday, 8 August 2008
The reluctant fundamentalist
The back cover of this book described it as a thriller. While I don't particularly fancy that genre, something about it intrigued me and I decided to give it a shot. And I was truly rewarded for the experimentation.
How does a high flying, young Pakistani man look at the politics of the world unfurling around him? What does really matter, at the end of the day, when you close your eyes and will yourself to be true to yourself? Can the fear in one instill hatred in another? Can the east and the west ever truly understand where they are coming from, what makes them what they are?
The book is a brilliantly crafted piece of work, written in the polite conversational tone of a Pakistani host. It beautifully showcases the west from the eyes of an Asian, whose family has seen both glorious days and abject poverty. Mohsin Hamid vividly describes the coming to grips with love and life in the west and the failure of both to live up to one's expectations. If there is one bit that I felt could have been more clearly sketched out, it was the protagonist's internal conflict, why he chose to keep the beard and everything related to it. Its there for you to see and feel and understand, but its not spelt out. So you give it the colours that you see it in. Nothing wrong with that, just that I would have liked to see it from the author's perspective, given his exceptional insight everywhere else in the book.
Another little bit of interest was the tangential reference to India and the perceived threat from India. It was very interesting indeed to see things from the other side, their fears and apprehensions, in a clearly unstable world.
Does the book justify terrorism? Can anything justify terrorism? Not really, in my opinion. But it gives a powerful account of one young man's journey in the quest for self-realisation, and his decisions, for better or worse. I'm really glad I picked this one up - couldn't put it down till I had finished it.
How does a high flying, young Pakistani man look at the politics of the world unfurling around him? What does really matter, at the end of the day, when you close your eyes and will yourself to be true to yourself? Can the fear in one instill hatred in another? Can the east and the west ever truly understand where they are coming from, what makes them what they are?
The book is a brilliantly crafted piece of work, written in the polite conversational tone of a Pakistani host. It beautifully showcases the west from the eyes of an Asian, whose family has seen both glorious days and abject poverty. Mohsin Hamid vividly describes the coming to grips with love and life in the west and the failure of both to live up to one's expectations. If there is one bit that I felt could have been more clearly sketched out, it was the protagonist's internal conflict, why he chose to keep the beard and everything related to it. Its there for you to see and feel and understand, but its not spelt out. So you give it the colours that you see it in. Nothing wrong with that, just that I would have liked to see it from the author's perspective, given his exceptional insight everywhere else in the book.
Another little bit of interest was the tangential reference to India and the perceived threat from India. It was very interesting indeed to see things from the other side, their fears and apprehensions, in a clearly unstable world.
Does the book justify terrorism? Can anything justify terrorism? Not really, in my opinion. But it gives a powerful account of one young man's journey in the quest for self-realisation, and his decisions, for better or worse. I'm really glad I picked this one up - couldn't put it down till I had finished it.
Tuesday, 29 July 2008
badkismat konnection
Now I know that drooling incessantly over Shahid Kapoor and dragging your family to see the movie only because you can't get enough of his to-die-for looks is naughty, but to be punished for the naughtiness oh so severely is rather harsh - the movie is a mighty disaster. Sitting through it, one counts the number of better decisions one could have taken in life, such as:
1. Listened to one's parents more often
2. Studied more diligently
3. Saved more and not gone on that mindless shopping spree
4. Never wanting to see Kismat Konnection
Shahid, near perfect looks and fantastic dressing apart, does not know how to act. He tries so hard its painful to watch him. His comedy is so forced, so severe, it leaves one with a sick feeling in the stomach. But what good looks, perfect eye candy, every woman's dream - how sad that he is a half package.
Vidya Balan is so out of place in this movie that I nearly felt sorry for her. She looks awkward and tired, and whoever was responsible for clothing the leading pair poorly neglected the lady. Now I know that she has two and a half poses which she can carry off passably well and earn the goodwill of the critics, but the woman has absolutely nothing new to offer. She looks sad and dejected and brings nothing but under eye bags and dark circles to an ill-conceived set of reel shots.
I could go on about the pathetic editing and less than mediocre plot with a rubbish ending and horrible music but I shall spare you my thoughts just this once.
Please do yourself a favour and stick pins in your eyes rather than see this movie.
1. Listened to one's parents more often
2. Studied more diligently
3. Saved more and not gone on that mindless shopping spree
4. Never wanting to see Kismat Konnection
Shahid, near perfect looks and fantastic dressing apart, does not know how to act. He tries so hard its painful to watch him. His comedy is so forced, so severe, it leaves one with a sick feeling in the stomach. But what good looks, perfect eye candy, every woman's dream - how sad that he is a half package.
Vidya Balan is so out of place in this movie that I nearly felt sorry for her. She looks awkward and tired, and whoever was responsible for clothing the leading pair poorly neglected the lady. Now I know that she has two and a half poses which she can carry off passably well and earn the goodwill of the critics, but the woman has absolutely nothing new to offer. She looks sad and dejected and brings nothing but under eye bags and dark circles to an ill-conceived set of reel shots.
I could go on about the pathetic editing and less than mediocre plot with a rubbish ending and horrible music but I shall spare you my thoughts just this once.
Please do yourself a favour and stick pins in your eyes rather than see this movie.
Friday, 25 July 2008
The Uncommon Reader
After a particularly boring stint of no work, no play, I decided to hit the bookstore. While the walk did me a lot of good, the merchandise has since worked wonders for my mood. Alan Bennett's The Uncommon Reader is a brilliantly tight work, funny and bold. Once I started reading it, I couldn't stop - it had to be finished. What does the Queen finally do? And of course, the love for reading, such a basic sentiment, like holding a friend's hand. The way she hides her books from those who don't want her to read and how she finds them to be mysteriously disappearing. Reminded me of the times I used to hide fiction behind the bulky, boring school books in my school bags. Someone described it as a fairy tale of adults. And I now know why. It is a delightful treatise on English literature through the eyes of the monarch, and at the same time, it is an introduction to the world of books through a quaint little mobile library. If there is one book you read this summer, it has really got to be The Uncommon Reader. 
On to The Reluctant Fundamentalist by Mohsin Hamid now. Man! Am I enjoying this unplanned break! :-)
Wednesday, 23 July 2008
Someone at a distance
This one was an unexpectedly insightful read. The emptiness of a woman left alone by her husband for another woman after twenty odd years of marriage. Her conflict to come to terms with the reality, the helpless interospection, the furtive search for a skill she could set up her life on - simple writing at its best. Dorothy Whipple is back in fashion, and though her books are brightly covered to entice the new generation of readers, the fundamental moving forces of human behaviour remain the same - love, lust, jealousy, hatred and pride. Add to it the foolishness of a husband who, even as he is leaving his wife and home forever, knows what he is doing is wrong, and you have a beautifully simple, or shall I say simply beautiful piece of work.
Tuesday, 22 July 2008
Politics
Has anybody been watching the hideous drama unfolding in the Indian parliament? Somebody tell me that this is a horrible nightmare and that we will all wake up soon to realise that the world is still alright. That no longer is the common person's name used in vain in the game of politics, and the country is not bought and sold, over and over again, in the name of national interest.
I don't for a moment believe that real politics is un-dirty anywhere in the world. But it takes on its ugliest colour and most uncivilised form in the Indian parliament. How could a huge bag full of currency notes be allowed inside the parliament? How can MPs decide to take matters in their own hands and reduce the floor of the house to a stage where they execute their tamasha without the permission of the speaker? Why do grown up adults behave worse than four-year-old school children? Kidnapping MPs? Bribing them to abstain from voting? Allegations more and more disgusting each time around. Does anybody else feel its getting worse by the day?
On another note, I wasn't sure whether to laugh or to cry when an elected member of parliament asked what exactly is the connection between energy and poverty. Seriously now, my eyes nearly popped out of their sockets and for once I was thankful to the TV channel for repeating stuff over and over again - no I hadn't made a mistake, this MP who represented lakhs of people in the country was actually asking how energy related to poverty. For someone to not understand these fundamentals of economic and social development and to have the power to decide for the country - isn't something basically very very wrong here? Its quite obvious from the projections of the media and the politicians that the country believes it is all set to be a world power to be reckoned with. While that concept itself is debatable, is it at all possible for us to trust what is being described variously as the political class? Can we get anywhere at all with this dubious breed of professionals whose primary talents include wearing different hats and fabricating lies?
I don't for a moment believe that real politics is un-dirty anywhere in the world. But it takes on its ugliest colour and most uncivilised form in the Indian parliament. How could a huge bag full of currency notes be allowed inside the parliament? How can MPs decide to take matters in their own hands and reduce the floor of the house to a stage where they execute their tamasha without the permission of the speaker? Why do grown up adults behave worse than four-year-old school children? Kidnapping MPs? Bribing them to abstain from voting? Allegations more and more disgusting each time around. Does anybody else feel its getting worse by the day?
On another note, I wasn't sure whether to laugh or to cry when an elected member of parliament asked what exactly is the connection between energy and poverty. Seriously now, my eyes nearly popped out of their sockets and for once I was thankful to the TV channel for repeating stuff over and over again - no I hadn't made a mistake, this MP who represented lakhs of people in the country was actually asking how energy related to poverty. For someone to not understand these fundamentals of economic and social development and to have the power to decide for the country - isn't something basically very very wrong here? Its quite obvious from the projections of the media and the politicians that the country believes it is all set to be a world power to be reckoned with. While that concept itself is debatable, is it at all possible for us to trust what is being described variously as the political class? Can we get anywhere at all with this dubious breed of professionals whose primary talents include wearing different hats and fabricating lies?
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