Me Before You... A Review : Innocence Writ Large...!!!

After a long, long while, I read an out and out love story... and what's more I really liked it... I think it's been over one and a half years, that I have touched anything remotely romantic not even touching the occasional Mills and Boons romance...!!! In terms of reading , I had divulged deeply into autobiographies and non-fiction... a endevour to challenge myself into reading what is "boring" (my words) and "un-engrossing" ( again my words)... well I was doing pretty well and even reversed my thinking about autobiographies and non--fiction, which I now think are deeply engrossing and very interesting, I would go so much in saying that non-fiction actually makes you think, long after you have kept the book down.

Anyways, coming back to Me Before You, a novel, that I read recently for our book club, is written by Jojo Moyes, a British author. This is the second novel. Before reading, me and my partners at the book club, we all scrutinize the Amazon reviews... if you see the reviews of the book, the average rating that readers have provided is 4.5 stars... that was intriguing enough...  Though a word of caution here... please do not read a book, simply based on the reader's review and definitely not just the reviews of the Amazon readers. They have given an average rating of 3 stars to "A Hundred Years of Solitude"... !!!

However, coming back to Me Before You... it's a love story... yes, an out and out love story... yes I can already visualize a few yawns, especially in the male readers of this post. But before you think it's just another "girl meets boy romance" (well it is one), it also address a very deep issue of our society : Euthanasia or Mercy Killing... I really loved the way the author has integrated this much debatable topic in the book and it so seamlessly goes with the story.

A brilliant narrative, all of the book is in first person narrative, with the female protagonist's voice writ large. I could not understand why the author chose not to showcase the male protagonist's voice. It would have been quite interesting. The story runs lucidly and the humor is dark, but subtle. I really liked the portrayal of the two main characters and how their relationship shapes up. The other characters in the book are also very interesting. Without giving the story up, I can say this much, that the book, does not mean to preach, nor does it take a judgmental view. The author tells a simple story and leaves it upon the reader to reach their respective conclusion. The story is short but very, very engaging. 

I, as a reader, really felt like being in the shoes of the characters. I give due credit to the author, for including the voices of the vital characters apart from the Protagonist... and yes, for a very practical ending... sometimes, when the conclusion does not match the expectation, I really hate the book... but here, it did, and I am grateful to the author for that.

A beautiful story, it's simple, elegant, and innocent. After a long while, I came across such an innocent romance, and I loved every bit of it.

My Life as a "wanderlust"... No End To Learning...

There's practically no end to learning new things...

An oft heard old phrase, right.... but this is something that I discovered only a few years earlier... discovered, what it really meant...

Given, like all other "normal, self- absorbed" students, I hated studying.... I mean, I really hated it.

In fact I used to be very envious of my Mom, who was a home-maker, because, she had no home work to submit, she wouldn't be punished for talking in class (which, incidentally was a constant for me)... she did not have the headache of packing her bags every night after duly consulting the time table, and there were no exams for her to be given... She just stayed home...

Oh man, how envious was I of her...!!!

Little did I know, that being a mum, had other responsibilities which were far more difficult and cumbersome than my simple, student life...

I was a diligent student, part of the reason was, that would keep my parents satisfied, my teachers happy and me, out of trouble, generally...

Of course I was pathetic in Maths and Science subjects, but they were only two out of the entire course of eight subjects... Till my tenth standard, somehow, I got through without much trouble, as I earlier mentioned, I was a diligent student, able to keep everyone happy...

The trouble came in my Tenth Standard, which was one of the worst years in my entire life, just not student life, but my entire life... Personally it was the happiest, because it was the first time, I had been in LOVE... well, it was more of a adolescence crush... but professionally, I mean being student is a full-time profession, isn't... it was terrible....

I flunked in almost all the tests, that were periodically taken in my class, and passed with mere passing grade in Mathematics in the finals.

That was IT for me... no more Mathematics, no more Physics, no more Chemistry... I just don't think I could have dealt with it anymore...

Fortunately for me, my parents thought so too...

In my 11th and 12th standard, I was allowed to take up the Arts subjects, and that's where the transformation came in...

I will forever be grateful to my parents for allowing me to take up Arts...

And it was in these classes, and afterwards in College, that I really learned...

There is a difference, between learning for mark's sake and learning for your sake... and the difference is a great deal...

The way I used to mug up stuff before, changed to understanding the subjects... History, Economics, English, they were no longer "subjects" for me anymore, they were a device to learn and understand the world.

For those two last years of my school life, student life for me was no more a rigmarole... it had become a journey... For the first time, in all my years of schooling, I looked forward everyday to a school day... and no, I did not study in school that was super cool or anything like that... in fact I studied in a public school, with the worst academic students, because no one wanted to take up Arts... where's the future in that...???

My teachers became my best friends... they helped me quench my thirst for knowing more, because I had developed  this insatiable desire for reading... No more, did I envy my mum, in fact I found her world to be quite mundane...

I did not understand it back then, but I do understand it now... I had excellent results in 12th standard, which enabled me to go, to one of the most distinguished college in my country... Just studying doesn't fetch one marks, one has to really love the art of learning... otherwise it's an utter waste of time, money, and energy... just mugging for mugging's sake does not get a person anywhere...

Even the job that I took up later in my life, I loved it... and I learned tons of stuff in it... Office wasn't a place where I would just trudge, do my work and get back, it became a place where I learned a lot of stuff, some practical, some philosophical...

Even my Boss was super cool  no he wasn't hot or dashing or handsome... but he made me learn some of the most important lessons of my life, and one of them was that, there was no end to learning...

It was his "mantra" for success, he would keep on saying... "Sreeupa, there's no end to learning, everyday would teach you something, every person, whoever it is, your friend or enemy, would teach you something... you just have to be cunning enough to learn from it all..."

In due course of time, I left the job, got married, moved to another country, but those words, still stay with me...

The reason I wrote all this, because, I used to think, I am a very good writer, in fact I have a blog (which incidentally, you are reading now..!!),  my work has been published in several magazines and reputable national dailies... I worked in one of the largest newspapers of the country, but four week ago I started taking this online course about writing... and trust me, it again changed my whole perception of writing...

Once more, I learned that there was no end to leaning, and if you love something very much, you would want to learn more and more and more of it... the key is just to find out what exactly you love, and the rest you'll welcome...

I love writing, I really love, the way mere words makes magic, make you want to cry, make you want to laugh, and make you want to read more of them... I love reading stories, mine and others and I love the fact that I am still learning to be a better writer and reader of the words...

The Immortals of Meluha: A Critical Review

Recently I finished reading one of the recent bestsellers, The Immortals of Meluha, by Amish.First of all kudos to the author for trying to deal with Hindu mythology and giving it the shape that would be interesting to the modern reader. Hindu mythology is a subject that very few Indian authors have tried to use in their story telling,much less to base their story on it. The fact that Amish has,goes a long way to say how our rich heritage could be used in the modern day and age. It is a very noble beginning, and I really hope we have many authors who would use this historical background to base their stories upon. We could recreate thousands of Da Vinci Codes, if we delved into our history and mythology deep enough.

Honestly, I felt I needed to write about the book, because, though it has captured the imaginations of many a readers, it would be grossly incorrect, if we were to believe that the author has tried to focus on the ancient and rich history of India. Sure, as a work of pure fiction, it is indeed good, but there are certain facts misrepresented as history of our land. It would be very unfair on my part as a reader, if I do not put out an unbiased view of the book, because even I really enjoyed how the story unfolds.

Let me first start by giving a brief synopsis of the story. The story, unfolds in the ancient land of India, known as Meluha, where reigns Emperor Daksha of the Suryavanshi clan. They are a highly civilized society where rules, guidelines and regulations are to an extent just. Their science, culture, tradition all are taken from the venerable Lord Ram, the proginetor of the Suryavanshi clan. These Suryavanshis are in constant fear of terrorist attacks from another clan, the Chandravanshis, who are exactly the opposite of them as in they adhere to no rules, regulations or guidelines. Their society isn't as civilized as the Suryanvanshis and they have now formed an ally with the "Nagas", the most heinous of all the tribes of India and together they want to steal the secret formula of "Somrasa", which Suryavanshis value as their holy drink.
Now there is a prophecy that a blue throated man from the lands of the "Sapt-Sindhu" would come and rescue the Suryavanshis. Enters Shiva, a tribal chieftain from the mountains of Kailasha, whose throat has turned blue upon consuming Somrasa, is he the prophetic one? Will he be able to deliver Suryavanshis from their problems and are Chandravanshis really the problem? Who are these Nagas? Are the Suryavanshis really as good as portrayed? For finding the answers to these questions, one has to read The Immortals of Meluha.

Now coming to the narrative style, Amish's style can never be called gripping, and cannot hold the attention of the reader. Another thing I quite disagreed with,is the occasional usage of swear words. They have been employed far too many times. The story has been weaved exceptionally well and the climax is really good though the end is kept wide open. Amish cleverly uses this book as a prequel to his next book, "The Secret of the Nagas". Kudos to Amish for knowing his historical facts well and cleverly using them to his advantage. The book can in no way be taken as a narrative of the rich ancient history of our land, but as a work of pure fiction. People reading this should bear it in mind that the author has grossly played with the historical facts and jumbled them up to present a very juvenile land of India.
Lastly it is a book, one should read as purely a work of fiction. Please do note that there are grossly misrepresented facts but yes, the storyline is good, some of the concepts given in it are extremely interesting and overall a good read, though I would not rate it as a "must read". Read it at our own leisure, for the simple pleasure of reading.

The Other "YOU"

Are there times when you feel you don't know yourself?
Thoughts and actions chasing your mind surprises you intensely?
When the world becomes a confused haze and you are trying to find a place...
That's the time you meet your "new self"
It angers you, chides you, bullies you and again falls in love with you...
You wonder who the real "you" are?
Is it the one you know or is it the one who peeps in
at times and hides away swiftly?
Till there comes a time when you feel;
you know yourself well enough...
There comes a foreboding security
of knowing oneself too well,
And then you wish
you didn't know yourself at all...

A Skeptic's Truth

Two years ago in a sudden fit of enthusiasm for voluntary social work, I enrolled myself into this NGO. The inspiration came from the certificate that I received for volunteering for the Times of India's "Teach India Program". This one entailed taking communicative English classes for women inmates at a prominent Kolkata Correctional Home (another sophisticated term for Women's Jail). As I have had some experience at teaching communicative English at College, I jumped at the offer.
The day I reached the NGO, I was informed that I have to undergo training of some sort at how to communicate with the women and I was to be mentored by a senior who worked at a nearby Correctional Home, doing the same job for which I had signed up.
The first day I met my senior-cum-trainer-cum-mentor, I knew she was the classic "textbook feminist case"... these types are found frequenting Indian University campuses, wearing "kurtas" of a dark hue, jeans, specs with heavy frames, carrying jute "jholas", heavy silver jewelry... and never lipstick!!! till date I haven't met a single one who wore a lipstick... oh! and dark "kohl" in their eyes...
This one (my mentor-cum-trainer) had all the trademark qualities. She took one look at me and dismissed me as the "non sustainable ones", probably because I was wearing a shocking pink salwar... along with pink lipstick... (what a blasphemy!!!)... however she was pretty cordial and explained all I was supposed to do. This week I was to accompany her to the Correctional Home she taught in and observe her at work. I was also given the liberty to talk to the women so as to familiarize myself with them. After this ten minute intro she shut up. For the duration of the journey that we undertook in the NGO's White Ambassador, I peppered her with enthusiastic questions none of which were answered in complete, meaningful sentence.
After reaching our preferred destination where my mentor was greeted with reverent smiles, she seem to have quite an effect on the inmates, I thought, she took pain to introduce me to everybody present and by their looks I could sense that they also put me into the "non sustainable category".
Undeterred I ploughed further and approached a group nearby. As soon as I started introducing myself, my mentor's voice was heard instructing the ladies to gather where she had set up her black board. The group I had approached left in a huff. Slightly demoralized I wandered further to find a shade from where I was to "observe" my mentor at work.
That was when I spotted her. She was seated on one of the stone seats beneath the shade of a giant tree, in the inmates' uniform, her head covered with a black 'dupatta', her back turned to me. I was slightly taken aback.

'Hello!' I called out, she didn't turn around.

'Why aren't you in the class?', my next obvious question. No response elicited.

'May I sit next to you?' my third plea.

All this while she had studiously refused to even acknowledge my existence. With timid steps I went and sat next to her.

"Hello!" I again repeated, this time my greeting was accompanied by an outstretched palm, to let her know, that she was recipient of the greeting. Slowly she turned around and I gasped, my mouth fell open, shocked...

The face that looked at me was burnt on the right, there were no eyebrow or eyelashes to speak of, infact no eye at all, just a black unblinking iris, it was gruesome... her left eyebrow and eyelashes also seem to be partially burnt. The right of her nose and lips didn't exist. It was the most macabre human face I have ever set my eyes upon. Infact it didn't even look remotely humane. I don't remember how much time had lapsed. All I do remember are those eyes, a black iris on one side and a partial eye on the other looking unblinking at me. I must have looked abysmally foolish with that open mouthed expression and my palms still stretched out. After sometime, she turned away. I withdrew my hand and stood up. There was nothing to ask, really, my mind was still blank.
As I started walking back, I heard a soft voice- " ai je aapni aar ekhane aashben na, eshob aapnar jonno noy"... (please do not come back here again, this isn't your calling). There was no contempt in that voice, no sarcasm, no regret, no nothing, just a mere stating of a fact. I turned and gingerly walked away.
While on the return journey, I narrated my amazing meeting to my mentor.

"Oh! so then you met Sumati, she doesn't attend the classes", my mentor stated.

"Why, what happened to her face... why is she here? why doesn't she attend your classes?" my volley of questions.

"She's quite educated already; she used to teach English at a primary school".

"Why is she here?"

"For murder. She bound her husband and her in-laws to a chair and set them ablaze".

"Why?" I almost yelled out.

My mentor shrugged, "oh! the usual Indian bride's story, you know, cruel torture, daily beatings, bickering over dowry... the usual sort. She got partially burnt by default".

I never went back to teach communicative English. Sumati was correct. I don't think I have the guts to teach countless Sumatis' adverb, adjectives, prepositions...

The Silent Scream...

The Silent Scream....

The wall on which the prophets wrote,
Is cracking at the seams,
Upon the instruments of death,
The sunlight brightly gleams.
When every man is torn apart...
With nightmares and dreams,
Will no one lay the laurel wreath,
When silence drowns the scream...


Marriage...

He was staring at me, lecherous and creepy...
His beady eyes,
fixed upon my thights
Not for me, I thought,
Not for me, this sort.
I found I was wrong,
My bridegroom to be
Arranged by my loved ones
The "done thing", you see;
My life decided, my future mapped out
The hidden stars,
In the constellation above,
What about love, I asked in distress,
Fearful and broken
Rooted in stress.
The answer was brisk
It will come with time
And money rules, dear girl
And so we've obliged.
The haggling for the dowry
Continued well into the night
With my loved ones enumerating
My many good points
I could cook well,
Sew well,
Wash and clean
Other wifely duties
Would come with
The change in scene
So I was sold
So I was bought
Money exchanged hands,
I was truly caught...

Kusum Lata Sawhney

The Unending Journey

It was past midnight when the train screeched to a halt at some unknown station. Shruti woke up. Surprisingly the compartment was empty. She blinked to get her vision accustomed to the darkness and peered outside the window. She could not see anything, just lines of dark rail tracks and a small station at the far end, a faint light emitting from some kind of a building. It was eerily dark. Shruti shrugged off the unfamiliar pang of fear, she was not someone who was scared easy.
"I need to stretch my legs a bit", she got up and walked up and down the passage. It was difficult to make out anything in the dark. She vowed to never again avail the Railway Concession given by her college as it stipulated journey only by the Sleeper Class, A/C would have been more comfortable. She came back to her seat. 'God the train is late again', she inwardly cursed the Indian Railways for their errant timings. She tried switching on the lights, 'goddamn railways', she cursed out aloud, 'even the electricity's gone'. She settled herself beneathe the blanket, 'ah, it would probably be a long wait' ; she thought to herself and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep.

Far end at the station, two men sat talking in the Guard's Office.

"Remember the accident five years ago?" said one.

"How could I forget, I was the goddamn linesman", cursed the other.

"Nobody survived, did they?"

"No, none, I wonder though, why they have left the remaining bogies on the track. If they were removed, the track could be used again couldn't it?"

They looked out and saw the skeleton of a train, badly burnt and dilapidated, standing on the track, motionless, forlorn, haunting...

Inside the train's compartment Shruti blissfully drifted off to sleep.

Beginnings

The Distance between inertia and "beginning" is so vast, that upon contemplation, it appears too large to cross.

When we do begin, we make discoveries,
We discover Strengths,
and hopes, dreams not yet lived...
beloved hiding places and
Parts of ourselves....
It's so much easier NOT to begin... what if we begun a dream... and it didn't work???...or we were no good at it, or it didn't satisfy us the way we always imagined...???
We can begin Over and over and over, as many times as we want or need to. We can begin to change our beliefs and the ways we categorize ourselves... "oh I've never been a good ....................."
BEGIN AGAIN
I m GOING to BEGIN to be:
A person who tries many new things...
A person who is Sometimes irritated...
A person who explores new tastes...
A person who travels lightly...
A person who IS...
and i'll continue to add new beginnings to this list...

Moments of Retrospection...

My heart tells me to run away,
My mind stops me...
' Run away, run away, run away from yourself;
Run away and be a lil' free'
At times think I, is it not better to listen to my heart,
Break the confines of my mind,
And seek a new 'start' ?
At times... to find myself, surreal it may seem;
Even of for a moment, even if in a dream.

Something inspirational

I came across these lines which really inspired me but I don't know who the author of these wonderful lines are...if any of the readers can enlighten me, it'll be great...

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeattable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go
To right the unrightable wrong
To run through when chased from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star
This is my quest to follow the star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far.

To fight for the right without question or pause
To be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause
And I know if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart will act peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest
And the world will be better for this
That one man scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To fight the unbeatable foe
To reach the unreachable star.

The Man In The Glass

When you get what you want in your struggle for self,
And the world makes you king for a day,
Just go to a mirror and look at yourself...
And see what that man has to say.
For it isn't your father, mother or wife
Whose judgement upon you must pass
The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the one staring back from the glass.
He's the fellow to please, never mind all the rest,
For he's with you clear upto the end,
And, You have passed your most dangerous,difficult test,
If the man in the glass is your friend.
You may fool the whole world down the path way of life,
And get pats on your back as you pass,
But your final reward will be heartaches and tears,
If you have fooled the man in the glass...

An Honest Confession

I am not perfect,I don't aim to be;
I stand in the madenning crowd,
Part of it, yet isolated.
The isolation reflects upon my shadow
While I think I'm ahead of others,
It stands still,silent,a spectator of my quest for perfection
"Life is rising above mediocrity",
the world around me thus advocates.
Creating one's individual niche,
I thus question myself,
"In my quest for perfection,
Aren't I getting lost in mindless mediocrity?"
What then is "Perfection" when everyone seem to be eager to attain?
All our shadows stand a silent testament
While we vie for a place ahead of others
Desparate,Selfish,Uncaring,Unconcerned,
The madness,
In pursuit of that "perfection"
And I say..."I am really glad
I am not perfect."

The Gamble

I don't know how to tell you

but somehow I think you know

That what you really mean to me

is more than I'd show.

at times I would like to hold you

And show you that I care..

But the thought that stops me reaching,

Is finding you not there.

And I guess I had to tell you so my heart would let be me...

I've put a gamble on your heart,

The token is on you,not me...

So if you ever make more

I've gambled...

I've lost...

But just the fact that we are friends..

Is worth what it'll cost...

Published In the Times Of India,Saturday Supplement,Kolkata circle,03rd Oct.'08...this reproduction is for those who missed it.