Book Review – The Leader Who Had No Title, Robin Sharma

There is a common joke shared in the place where I come from. A husband once calls his wife and says, ‘The special dish you cooked for me two days ago was so nice. Can you prepare the same for me today too?’ The wife, angry with him for some reason, retorts, ‘Why make new? There are some leftovers from the same dish. Want to taste?’

This book of Robin Sharma tastes like those leftovers – stale and revolting. While revolting is a strong word to use against a book which contains appreciable wisdom, the verbose style of the book leaves a lot to be desired when it comes to inspiring the reader. If you have already read Robin Sharma, you can safely skip reading this book, for this book carries nothing new and everything that Robin Sharma has repeated in all his previous works.

Having read almost a dozen books of Robin Sharma already, I picked up this book hoping to learn something new. But this book is nothing but old wine in new bottle, with a new label. As always, there is a person whose life is in doldrums, appearance of a magical mentor, his imparting leadership lessons which he himself gathered from some saintly beings and the ‘happily ever after’ finish. Not just the style. The words and ideas also repeat themselves to a monotonous extent. Robin Sharma, as is his wont, wants you to wake up early, to spend an hour planning for the day ahead, to treat your customers to a ‘wow’ experience, to build up people instead of putting them down, to go to the grave with a contented mind and so on. Add to that a sprinkling of quotes from the great people in history. Not inspiration but a sense of déjà vu was what pervaded my mind throughout the reading of this book.

Also, this book could have been trimmed down to a total of hundred pages, in the styles of a Brian Tracy or Spencer Johnson. There are good lessons here and there but they are all drowned in the heap of ‘positive’ words that flood these pages. In fact, I feel that all the ideas that Robin Sharma has ever shared in his books could all be summarized into a page or two.

I picked up hoping that the book will be great and truly inspiring in the lines of ‘The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari’ or ‘The Greatness Guide’. But I simply couldn’t wait to finish and keep the book away. Such a boring sermon! Either I have grown out of reading Robin Sharma or Robin Sharma has not grown out of ‘The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari’!

Mountains & Seas

 

Nature - everything about Her is very magical. Be it the process of a little seed transforming into a tender sprout or the glory of the gigantic planets beckoning from beyond unimaginable distances, anything and everything about Nature has a mystical touch about it. But there are two things that lend a more personal touch to Her magic - Mountains and Oceans!

Just sit at the seashore - all that chatter of the waves, their eternal bounciness, the depths that contain mysteries from the past, the generosity with which the sea offers its bounties to everyone - don't they remind you of being in the presence of a little child - energetic and ebullient!

On the other hand, the mere sight of mountains fills one with sheer veneration. Standing majestic in their grand glory, scaling the distance between the earth and sky, shelter to myriad species of flora and fauna, withstanding the test of Time and witness to its passages like a grand old patriarch, the mountains stand, silent and serene. 

Somebody once said that the more one wants to live life, the more one needs to spend time with elderly people and little children. I feel that the more one needs to love life, the more one needs to be in the presence of the mountains and seas. Surreal!

Book Review – The Story of Philosophy, Will Durant

‘Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some to be chewed on and digested’ – so said Francis Bacon, a philosopher from 17th century Britain. This book of Will Durant, which carries a chapter about Bacon himself, deserves not just to be chewed and digested, but also to be brought out often as cud and ruminated upon. Such a brilliant work!

Having already had a taste of Marcus Aurelius’ ‘Meditations’, I was wondering from where should I take a deeper plunge into the world of philosophy. This book popped up as a relevant recommendation from both Amazon as well as Goodreads and I was only glad to accept it.

This book is about the famous philosophers, a brief glimpse into their lives and a detailed discussion on their philosophies. Will Durant takes enough time to also compare them all with one another and rate them on the touchstone of truth and relevance towards the daily lives of humans. Plato, Socrates, Aristotle, Francis Bacon, Benedict Spinoza, Friedrich Nietzsche, Arthur Schopenhauer, Immanuel Kant, Herbert Spencer, George Santayana, Bertrand Russell –these are all names that occupy the top echelons of the pantheon of Philosophy and Will Durant helps you have a clear and sufficient view into the world and works of them all.

While the book is equally well-written about all the philosophers, and I loved them all, some of them stood out for me. One is Voltaire. Having already read his classic ‘Candide’, I was curious to read more of Voltaire’s works. This book only added to that appetite. It is in the hands of an author to make a subject interesting or insipid. Some of them write so well that they can make even Economics sound interesting, while some of them can bungle up even a fun-filled subject like Astronomy. I am glad that I chose to read Will Durant. Reading his words on Voltaire, I felt a smile cross my face every now and then. Such an amazing sense of humour and grasp on the subject! Voltaire would have nodded his head in approval from inside his grave.

Next is Arthur Schopenhauer. You can either admire Schopenhauer OR unstintingly adore the women in your life. If you say that you do them both at once, you're a big LIAR. Such caustic views about the follies of women! Poor Schopenhauer, having got estranged from his mother in the young age, has poured out all that bitterness in his essays on women.

Then, Baruch Spinoza - the religious leader who expelled Spinoza from the congregation, cursing that Spinoza's name may be forgotten for all eternity, because of his 'heretic' thoughts, is now remembered only in a negative tinge. But Spinoza's name lives on. The woman who ignored his love, allegedly for a richer suitor, is cast into oblivion. But Spinoza is remembered as one of the greatest minds in the history of mankind. The god-believing ruffian, who attacked Spinoza with a knife because of Spinoza's rational views, well, nobody remembers that thug for anything else 'noteworthy'. Religion, riches, rage - a real quest for wisdom seems to withstand the attacks from all these unworthy pursuits – that is what I learnt from Spinoza’s life.

But, none of their stories touched my heart’s chords like Friedrich Nietzsche's did. Born into an influential family, brought up as a pious young man only to suffer a crisis of faith to become an apostate for life, having contempt for the 'masses', believing rather in the power of the evolved few and then that special person - 'superman', believing in the power of Germans to unite Europe culturally and politically, arguing more for the sake of war than for peace, correctly prophesying the occurrence of 'trade wars' across Europe during the early 20th century, not finding love and the warmth of a woman that could have helped heal the fissures in his heart and soul, finally ending up as a wreck both physically and mentally before passing away in peace, here is a man I would love to love and love to hate. Love to love - because his wisdom and seemingly caustic yet correctly derogatory views about the inept masses. Love to hate - because he seems to be the soil on which the thorny, poisonous plant called Hitler seems to have taken root. Love him or hate him, but you cannot ignore him. That's Friedrich Nietzsche for you.

All in all, this is a great book for any beginner looking to cut their teeth into philosophy. Of course, the book has many pages of deep discussions on Metaphysics that just went over my head and my eyes could only skim through. But as I already said, this is a book that deserves more than one reading to be enjoyed thoroughly. This book is a worthy gateway into the world of Philosophy!

Rains & Nature

The rains arrived last night - at last! - like a woman returning from her mother's place, fussing and fuming, preparing for a quarrel with her husband. Starting from the gathering of gloomy clouds, to the slight sticky drizzle, and finally to the heavy showers accompanied by thunder and lightning, the rains returned last night.

This morning, I went around my little garden looking for the damages. How many life-forms abounded there! Crawling, slithering, jumping, hiding, hanging - spiders, flies, lizards, centipedes, ants, worms, varieties of mites - so diverse was the life forms within that little garden of mine!

Just as I walked up to the terrace, this sight caught my attention. A butterfly was meticulously laying her eggs on a branch of the moringa tree. All that I could feel at this sight was humility and awe at the vastness of Nature around us.

Let's shed our attitude of self-importance, Humans! We are just another species on this planet. There is neither anything special, nor anything superior about us. We are all one tiny part of the glorious Whole!

Book Review – Men and Dreams in the Dhauladhar, Kochery C.Shibu

When the author of this book approached me on Goodreads for a review, I was a little unsure, since modern Indian fiction is something that I stay away from. But then, the author assured me that the book is nothing like the works of the contemporary Indian authors that depend on melodrama and cheap titillation to sell their books. I agreed to read the book based on that assurance and a cursory look at the description of the book.

The first 100-odd pages raced away like a rocket. Core characters of the book were all being introduced one by one, like the notes of a Hindustani raga, each given its own gamut of emotions and elaboration. Nanda, the protagonist of the book - or, at least that is what I thought him to be – arrives for work at the hydro-Electrical project site in the Himalayan ranges, escaping a blood-soaked past of gang-wars and revenge killings that have spiraled out of control. Khusru, a Kashmiri youth, separated from his parents in childhood, is recruited by the terrorist groups in Pakistan to assist in the destruction of a dam – the same dam where Nanda is working. Rekha is a Kathak dancer, whose ancestors have all had a bitter taste of the Partition. She is dedicated to her art, a globetrotting independent woman that is willing to wait for the one who will make love bloom in her heart, instead of getting married in the routine manner and spending time like yet-another-Indian-housewife. Now, I felt promises galore in these characters. But alas, the book promises only to deceive.

First, the strong points. Character formation is definitely the author’s forte. He manages to put the reader in the shoes of the character. With vivid descriptions and simple style, the author manages to make the characters come alive. Of course, not all the characters are flawless and necessary but more on that later. Then, sincerity. The author is definitely dedicated to his craft – writing. He tries hard to convey his ideas and thoughts to the reader without any ‘transmission losses’ and it is quite evident in his writing. Also, he puts to good use his wide knowledge gained from past experiences, to depict scenes and situations to make them feel real. Accolades to him for that.

Now, there are many aspects that cause disappointment and deprive the author of a glorious debut. Most important of them all is the plot. I wish the author had given more attention to the plot as well, alongside the characters. With a promising plotline and a bunch of intense characters, he could have worked wonders, but the book does not take off ever. All you get to read are backstories and current experiences of the characters that do nothing to rally the main story along. Nanda gets pulled into a violent life of killings and revenge killings and his backstory is one of the gripping points in the book. But all that he does once he is in the hydro-project is nothing but work. What started off like a burning train ends up as a damp squib. I would have loved to see Nanda’s emotions and yearnings explored more. In fact, his entire story can be developed into a book of its own.

Next is Khusru. Not sure what I am supposed to feel for him, but empathy is definitely not the name for it. Deserted by his parents who run away to Pakistan leaving him behind in his uncle’s care, losing his uncle to the army shelling, recruited by the terrorist groups, his purpose in life is said to be to meet his family again. But his character loses steam after promising much. His promiscuity, for example, is a put-off. He marries a widow - elder than him - from his shepherd group, after saving her from marauding tribesmen.  He leaves her to visit Pakistan for training and then sleeps with his Urdu teacher there – an elder and married woman. He comes back to the group to learn about his wife’s death during childbirth. He then marries another girl from the group and consummates his marriage with her. He leaves the group again and marries another Kashmiri girl from the Indian side of the border after some ‘saving’ her. And, then he sleeps with Rekha – again another elder woman. It is as if almost every time the name of a girl pops up in the chapter in which Khusru appears, he is going to marry her or sleep with her. You don’t get to see love or intensity in any of those relationships. And, coming from a character with all the scope for an intense emotional portrayal, this sort of a sleeping around is not only unconvincing but weakens the character’s emotional integrity.

Rekha – just as you think that this character is being woven well and thorough, it falls flat on its face. A woman who is passionate about her art and taking it to new heights, a woman who has been avoiding men all through her life, keeps her modesty intact despite many opportunities to falter, falls head-over-heels in love with Khusru, after she is separated from her pilgrimage group during a terrorist attack and abduction. Oh, she also copulates with him, because it was cold, he is handsome and he pulls off her wet clothes and pushes her down. Any normal reading will prove it to you that it is a rape. But well, he doesn’t even attempt to rape her, as she yields to that ‘musty smell of sweat and his wiry looks’. He abducted her? So what! He is a terrorist obviously? Who cares? He seems young and naïve. What does it matter?! Really??? Are women so easy to sleep with?! The author later on tries to sneak in ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ as the excuse, but that sort of an affinity develops only with some sort of interaction between the kidnapper and the victim. Not just because they kept copulating for a whole night without even knowing one another or having even a meaningful conversation. Also, their ‘love’ that the author tries to push into our brains, towards the last few pages of the book, feels at best to be infatuation or the glee of the woman at finding a vent for all those pent up carnal tensions. Please, let’s not call it ‘love’ and insult that pure emotion!

Another bane is the surfeit of characters that don’t contribute anything to the book except to the page count. Mangu Ram, Sandeep, Rajanish, Katarina, Rafiq, Mukesh, Sherah and a few more come and go, as standalone characters, without being fused into the tale in a meaningful manner. Equally tedious is the technicality crammed into the book. It would have been better if the author had kept the technicalities and jargon to the minimum or stopped with a general explanation of the hydro-electrical projects in a separate chapter. Another dreaded aspect is the italics. By italics I mean the author’s penchant for including the transliterated vernacular words and phrases every now and then. While they help in adding a local flavor to the tale and help you feel in place, they are over-utilized to the extent of your coming across them almost every other page. Beyond a point, it gets annoying to read a word in italics and its explanation filling the next couple of lines. A seasoned editor could have helped the author avoid these pitfalls and trim the book by at least 50-odd pages, improving the book’s tempo. 

Then the Dhauladhar ranges. During the run-up to the tale, the author creates a lot of expectations in your mind about the role these mountains, the stage for this grand drama, are going to play. But all that they do is to appear lamely at the end of the chapter, ‘seeming’ to say something to one of the characters and the character ‘wondering’ as to what they mean. Monotonous and lack appeal.

Coming back to the plot, a book that spends almost three-fourths of its length to build its characters cannot end by cramming all the action within two pages. That too through a character that was not given even half the importance of what was given to some of the fringe characters. The climax feels muddled and rushed, just like the writing style in those pages, lacking the smooth flow that made the book a pleasure to read in the early pages. It feels as if an elaborate symphony is rushed to its end with a quick beat of rap, instead of going for a classic crescendo.

If you’re a person that reads just for the sake of reading, to pass time, without expecting to gain much from the book emotionally or intellectually, and a fan of ‘young-adult’ fictions, then this book is for you. As for me, I am looking forward to a much better work from the author, because he shows a lot of promise and potential that remain unrealized in this book.

Spreading Smiles

Today, as I was entering a retail family showroom, the security person, a man in his late fifties, folded his hands and greeted me with a traditional 'namaste'. I conveyed my respect with the same gesture. Just as I finished my shopping and I was heading out, he repeated the gesture with a 'thank you, sir'. I stood for a moment, looked him in the eyes and said with a smile, 'Thank you, sir. Happy Diwali to you.'

His eyes lit up and his smile broadening almost into a grin, he heartily said, 'Thank you, sir. Wishes to you too. Thank you.'

Looking at his smile, his happiness, and his voice exuding genuine gratitude, I understood one thing today - Making people happy and spreading smiles around aren't very difficult things really!  :-)

Book Review – The Lessons of History, Will & Ariel Durant

‘History repeats itself’, ‘Those who don’t learn from history are forced to repeat it’ – these are two of the quips about which I had been curious for so long. Is it possible that we humans are living a cycle all through our lives? Are we repeating the same things, events and experiences that our ancestors once went through? Are we humans, so-called most intelligent species of this planet, so inept at learning from our past that we go through the same pains and pleasures, events and experiences that keep staring at our face from the annals?

I was seeking answers to these questions and when Amazon ‘recommended’ this book to me, I gladly accepted. Will and Ariel Durant, the author couple, are renowned for their contribution to the field of History and ‘The Story of Civilization’, a series of eleven volumes in Western history, is their magnum opus. And, when they offer to summarize all their learning in a little book, you can’t help grabbing the same with both hands. I am glad I did.

In this book, Will and Ariel, categorize lessons of the past under various faculties. The evolution of mankind, the overcoming of geological obstacles, the biological evolution and multiplication into innumerable life forms, racial and ethnic diversities, the development of our ethics and morals, the loosening grip of religion on our conscience, growth of economics, socialism, wars and the various forms of governments. They end the book by discussing whether we have progressed by learning our lessons wisely from our past or are we running around in circles. The whole book makes not just an interesting read but worthy of some deep contemplation too.

The book is written in a plain, pragmatic and unostentatious manner. They don’t claim to know it all, but acknowledge that history is just a collection of varying perspectives, depending on our cultural, religious, social background and understanding. Also, they present a neutral stance on our past, without nurturing a tender nostalgia for our past while having bleak fears about the future, or going gaga about the modern times while dismissing the past as full of darkness and barbaric beings.

The past is full of lessons for those who want to learn, and the lessons are neither hard, nor bitter. We get what we seek from our past. If you’re looking for hope, it is full of it. If you are pessimistic about human history, then past offers an abundance of excuses for that too. It is all up to us to wisely choose lessons that suit us, learn from them, use the wisdom to sail through our present, while building a rich heritage for the future generations for whom we will soon be pages of history.

A lovely introduction into the various facets of human history and a book that no history-buff should miss!

Ashok Krishna

Book Review – The Story of My Life, Helen Keller

As I was reading this book, an old Zen story came to my mind. Here it is –
 

There was once a man who was a hopeless pessimist. He thought that life had been unfair towards him and he always used to complain to everyone about it. He heard about the visit of a wandering monk to his village and decided to seek the blessings for a better life. Visiting the monk he vented out all his grievances at length. After patiently listening to it all, the monk said that he will take the man to the king and get him all the money that is needed to improve his life. 

Just as they were setting out to meet the king, the monk said ‘See, before meeting the king, let’s decide on the price, shall we?’

Our pessimist wasn’t sure, and he asked the monk ‘Decide the price of what?’

The monk replied ‘For selling your organs. The king pays good amount to the arms and legs, but he lavishes gold more for eyes, ears, tongue and brain. I can get whatever money you want, provided you tell me now itself.’

The pessimist was shocked and angrily said, ‘Are you mad?! How can a man survive without these organs? What will I do with the money if I don’t have my organs to live?!’

The monk smiled and said ‘You’re not using them much anyways. If you were, your life would have turned better long back.’ The pessimist understood his folly, promised the monk that he will start working hard and left.

Helen Keller – one of those names that inspire the whole of mankind, regardless of religion, clan or creed. Born 136 years ago, this lady lost her ability to see and hear – two of those most important faculties through which we learn the world around us – while she wasn’t even two years old. Imagine what a pain it would have been for a child to go through the formative years of her life, deprived of both these senses and with not much of a chance to enjoy the little but precious pleasures of life that we all take for granted!

But Helen was blessed to have a mother that wouldn’t give up on her child like that. Her mother, inspired on learning about the now-less-famous Laura Bridgman, who was the first deaf-blind American child to get proper education, ensured that her daughter got a worthy teacher in the form of Anne Sullivan. The rest, as they say, is history.

Anne Sullivan helped Helen get into a proper learning mode and introduced her to the beauty of life and nature. Taught by Anne to read, write and communicate, Helen went on to acquire a good education, first in the basics of literature, mathematics and various languages and then a proper college degree. This autobiography, written by Helen Keller when she was 22 years old, takes us on a journey to those critical early decades of her life.

There is something magical about Helen’s words. Anyone who reads this book cannot come away from it without developing a love for the life and nature. This is a candid book about Helen’s transition from a helpless little child to a self-confident student in college that faced many challenges in learning but who nevertheless took pride and pleasure in surmounting them all. Helen’s love for her parents, her immense gratitude for her teacher Anne Sullivan and her having taken the deprivations in her stride to enjoy life like no other person with both these faculties of hearing and seeing could, are lessons for us all to learn. I could feel an immense love and hope oozing through her words.

A worthy read and a must have for your home-library. In fact, I am thinking of gifting this book to all my friends. Especially to those that have much to complain about their lives!

Book Review – Karma Cola, Gita Mehta

Poverty, Chastity and Piety – search for the basic code of conduct prescribed by any religion for its spiritual seekers, and you will find these three aspects standing out. While piety is more internal and is not for others to see or judge, the first two aspects are for all of us to view and verify. But, just as all things change with Time, these too are thrown in the wind and religion has got into the hands of those who have desecrated these principles and manipulated religions for their own selfish ends.

Saints (!) these days lead lifestyles that can make the rockstars fade in comparison. Swanky mansions, sleek cars, globetrotting habits, private islands, gatherings that can fill huge football grounds to the brim, sprawling ‘ashrams’ – any and every aspect of luxury that an ordinary person can only imagine are at the disposal of these modern-day ‘gurus’. These people have literally started peddling spirituality and god in affordable packages. Affordable for those with bank balances the size of their own egos, that is. There are some of the spiritual ‘gurus’ whose photographs are updated in social media with a frequency that can put a narcissistic adolescent girl’s selfie craze to shame. Then, there are those who perpetrate and permit all kinds of sleaze in the name of ‘spiritual fervor’. Some of these ‘gurus’ have even performed acts that puts them on par with professional pornstars.

As these sacrilegious things continue growing alarmingly these days, there sprouts a question in my mind as to who is to be blamed for all these abominable deviations from the path of the Ultimate Truth. Should we blame those fake gurus and spiritual leaders that charge obscene amounts of money for their mere ‘darshan’ or should we kick those gullible masses that have forgotten what it means to feel silence and solitude in their purest forms.

Gita Mehta’s book deals with one such topic here. India, considered the beacon of spiritual wisdom, has long been the haven for spiritual seekers from around the world. Since the ancient days, travellers from faraway places have flocked to India to partake in her spiritual fountain. In the last century, the advent of air travel has helped more and more such seekers in visiting this mysterious land of snake-charmers and super-power sadhus. While the inflow was comprised equally of those in real spiritual quest and those souls that are simply confused about the course of their lives, India has offered counterfeit ‘teachers’ that can adeptly manipulate the gullible ones for having their own fill of the coffers and coitus.

Gita Mehta displays an amazing sense of sarcasm and wit while writing about the many ways in which these gurus exploit the seekers. Right from the funny encounter of a Western aristocrat that ended up drinking the urine of a sadhu (said to be pissing rosewater) to the painful truth of foreign women that are sexually exploited under the influence of narcotics, this book, written almost three decades ago, holds true to the modern day atrocities committed in India by the fake saints.

Having had the benefit of a Western education, Gita has the advantage of both worlds. At one end, she can discuss threadbare the nature of the seekers that end up in India. Not everyone is thrilled just by the confluence of life and death at the ghats of Kashi. Some of them seek the thrill of the chillum too. On the other, she flays the monks, saints and hermits, having the knowledge of not just the blissful but the banal as well, for exploiting the foreigners in terms of the material and mundane. Drug induced trances, sexual orgies under the guise of spiritual evolution, stupid practices in the name of dynamic therapies - Gita explores the whole razzamatazz that goes in the name of spirituality these days. It informs us also of the sad plight that these foreigners end up in, having lost their all here, forced to sell whatever they have or they can, from pieces of clothes to their flesh to make a living, with little or no chance of going back to their lives in their own countries.

The book is, though, more like a bunch of columns put together than any coherent work. She has put together a lot of anecdotes and observations without a complete flow. While it is obvious that she is writing about Osho and Mahesh Yogi, I wish she had written more plainly about the other such ‘gurus’ too. Also, I found her snobbish attitude a little annoying to be candid. Couldn’t help but feel that she is another of those high-society NRIs with a bit of aversion and contempt for the Indians and their ways of life.

To sum it up all, it is a good book. It goes on to vindicate my feeling that Indian ‘saints’ have thrown the three basic principles of poverty, chastity and piety to the wind and replaced them with the two principles with which the Batman operates – Theatricality and Deception!

Book Review – Nine Indian Women Poets, Eunice De Souza

Well, I am torn between giving this book an OK-ish 3-star rating and the approving 4-stars. This anthology contains the poems by nine Indian women poets, arbitrarily chosen by the compiler Eunice De Souza, who happens to be one of those nine poets.

On the positive side, this anthology is a fair introduction to the works of the little known or unknown poetesses of India. Poetesses like Mamta Kalia, Smita Agarwal and Tara Patel, the names that aren’t even heard of in the Indian literary circles these days, are brought to fore in this book. The book begins with the works of Kamala Das, understandably one of those few female authors that could stand on their own in the Indian literary stage dominated by men. But the names that all follow are in no way secondary to Kamala Das, though, when compared in terms of works published, Kamala Das wins the race miles ahead. But each poetess – hardcore feminists please forgive me – adds a rich shade of her own to this little rainbow of nine colors. 

On the downside, editor Eunice could have done a better job in selecting the poems and poets. While many of them are poems of a lovely nature, easy to read, of high literary quality, capable of tugging at your heart’s strings, an equal number of them just manage to fly above your head. Some of them come across as mere obscure ramblings, muddled words and written with a purpose to impress than to convey. If you’re a person that believes that a poem shouldn’t sound like a lesson in Particle Physics, then you’ll find some of these poems quite dull and uninspiring. 

Some of these poems are really beautiful, like love, sunset and a baby’s smile. Some others, confusing and just make the count. Three stars, it is!

Book Review – The Greatest Show on Earth, Richard Dawkins

Richard Dawkins is one of my favorite authors, in the same league as Sam Harris, Christopher Hitchens and Neil deGrasse Tyson. What stands out in the works of these people is their unwavering loyalty to Truth and Reason. They are not the sort of persons that can take an affront to Knowledge lying down. All of them are outright atheists that don’t mince words when it comes to attacking the superstitious and stupid religious beliefs. 

This is the third work of Dawkins that I am reading, after having gone through ‘The God Delusion’ and ‘The Magic of Reality’. Dawkins continues in the same vein as in those two books, but this book is turning the heat up for the ‘Creationists’ – those that believe that a god created this universe, our planet and all the life forms that populate it, within the last 10000 years or so. Dawkins builds a citadel from which the Evolutionists – those of us that believe that the planet Earth is about 4.6 billion years and all the life forms that we see in front of our eyes today evolved through natural genetic modification – can fight the ignorance of the ‘Creationists’. 

And, what a citadel has he built! I don’t think that a staunch believer of the religious version of ‘Creation’ will be moved by this book well enough to reverse his/her views, but this book will nevertheless end up causing a dent in his/her belief. Be it plants, animals or the multitude of bacterial and vermin life forms, Dawkins pulls them all up to stand as witness to the survival of their ancestors in the long gone past and their evolution by ‘natural selection’. Dawkins also arms all the ‘Evolutionists’ and ‘Darwinists’ with enough arsenal to fight back the stupid questions raised by the ‘Creationists’. ‘If men evolved from monkeys why are there monkeys still around?’, for example.

But one thing that I couldn’t stomach in this book is that, while trying to build a citadel of facts and arguments strong enough to be unassailable by the ‘Creationists’, Dawkins seems to have become too obsessed with the details to the extent of ignoring the normal, laymen like me that couldn’t grasp science beyond a certain level, at least for now. You need to have a fair knowledge of genes to understand the book. In the previous two books, I found the words of Dawkins having a smooth flow. The same is lacking here. His random jumping between the topics and cross-referencing details in other chapters and even in his other books doesn’t make matters easy either. 

A good book to read, if you prefer reading books that are slow and heavy. Though this lacks the usual flow and wit of Richard Dawkins, it is a worthy shot in the arm if you are someone that ends up arguing with the ‘Believers’ every now and then.

Can Indian Women Become Great Orators? (Warning: Sarcasm and Just For Fun)

If you are a person that doubts the ability of Indian women to become great orators, you MUST read these findings of my recent observations (read, 'experiences').  ;-)

1. In a 4-hour long bus journey, men may chatter for a while, but sooner than later they tend to get bored and fall asleep, lulled by the wind and heat. But women can hold a riveting conversation throughout the course of the journey with the same vigour with which they started the discussions. Talk of being indefatigable!!!

2. At the restaurants, they can speak so fluently and unceasingly, without ever letting the inflow of food, solid or liquid, hinder their speech even for a nanosecond. Silver-tongues, 'borne with (ever-)silver spoons'!

3. In an over-night train journey, they can lull the entire compartment with their slow murmur, while slowly increasing their volumes to a crescendo that can put to shame the rattle of steel-on-steel. I often wonder whether they are the secret arrangements to keep the train driver alert and awake with their chatter and thus prevent accidents. Talk of not being loud enough!

Finally, what is more astonishing is their ability to hold an eloquent dialogue about almost any topic under the sun. If you're 'fortunate' enough to be seated near any such 'orators', you're bound to come away wiser in the topics of family life, tackling cunning relatives, family financials, neighbourhood gossips, hereditary inheritances of both properties and diseases, art of buying vegetables, culinary magics and what not?! Stay with keen ears and they may even 'spice it up' for you.

So, the next time you find two women sitting together, find a seat as close to them as possible and let me know your observations.

3 Lessons from the Movie 'Cast Away'

No one watching a beautiful movie like 'Cast Away' can miss out on these three life lessons.

1. Love isn't about those romantic cuddles, walking into the sunset holding hands, or dancing with a gang of hundred people clad in flashy attires. It is about being 'together' even while staying away from one another, even when there is nothing more to offer to one another, physically or emotionally.

2. Loneliness isn't just about sitting alone and sullen. It is about taking the time to evolve, learning from that solitude, taking it as a chance for deep contemplation and personal betterment.

3. Hope isn't just about hanging in there and believing that things will improve on their own. It is about grabbing the initiative, performing one's own little part in the great chain of events and trying one's best to improve the situation.

 

No wonder this movie remains one of those beautiful ones in my 'all-time favorites' list!

Book Review – On Writing, Stephen King

‘What is the point of reading the Scriptures anymore, now that I have listened to the Sermon on the Mount?’

This exact line came to my mind when I finished reading this book. Who else can teach you the art of writing better, if not one of the best writers of our times? Now, Stephen King may not have won Nobel for literature, but tested in terms of the number of readers and monetary success, he is one of the top ten authors in the world currently. In fact, one of the recent issues of Forbes placed him fifth in the list of world’s highest paid authors for 2016.

I haven’t read even a single book of Stephen King prior to this nor am I a big fan of his brand of fiction. But that didn’t deter me from picking up this book, when it popped up in my Amazon recommendation list. I am glad that I did.
 

This book consists of three parts. The first part forms the memoirs of Stephen, starting from his not-so-happily-memorable childhood of having been raised by a single-mother struggling to make ends meet by doing every odd job available. Stephen’s love and admiration for his mother subtly shines throughout the book. His formative years as a writer and his journey towards the pinnacle have been captured in good measure as well. Any person who goes through all that Stephen has and still retains his passion for doing the thing that he loves deserves to win, I would say.

The second - and more important - part for which I picked the book is filled with suggestions and tips about the art of writing. I didn’t want to go through a formal, boring list of Do’s and Do Not’s that would make a dent in my natural flow as such and Stephen King has stayed true to his reputation. If you are looking for a formal course on the art of writing, sorry, this book is not for you. If, on the other hand, you want to listen to a senior and accomplished writer sitting by your side and sharing his wisdom with you in a matter-of-fact manner, then this is a book that you must read. I was really impressed going through the pages. Dreaming of becoming a writer myself, I could identify my flaws, ascertain my strengths and get some warm affirmation while reading through these pages.

In the last part Stephen shares his harrowing experience in a van accident that threatened to hamper his physical movement, and his recovery from it, both physical and mental. Aptly titled ‘On Living’, this chapter is a touching end to a lovely book. As I finished reading, I couldn’t help admire his ability to keep even a non-fiction book so riveting. An interesting book on the art of writing, starting from framing ideas in the mind to putting them on paper, to handling that dreaded disease called ‘writer’s block’ which every person successfully wielding the pen has gone through at least once in his/her writing career.

A must read, if you’re a budding writer or are wanting to become one!

Happy Independence Day - 2016!

Seven decades ago, the Sun coming up on the Eastern horizon of this country would have noticed joyous scenes all around. All through His whole sojourn up there, He would have noticed people waving the tricolor, chanting, dancing and jumping with joy, for it was the day when this nation woke up redeeming its pledge, fulfilling its 'tryst with destiny'.

The Sun, 70 years older today, would be witnessing the same nation going through the motions with the spirit of Freedom and patriotism watered down, manipulated and moulded to fit each of our own narrow interests.

While it is easy to get carried away and feel a bristling sense of 'patriotism' amidst all the special events and symbols of the nation freely flaunted today, the real patriotism is what we carry in our hearts and display on a daily basis.

Go through the lives and letters of all those leaders and little-known freedom fighters that gave their all for attaining freedom for this nation of theirs and we will know that we are incapable of the level of ethics, honesty, grit and morality that they displayed as a matter of habit.

While it may not be possible for us to follow them in their giant footprints, having become the corrupt and selfish puny ones that we are all today, we may try to emulate as little of their deeds as possible to us.

There are 364 days more for the next Independence Day and let's make a pledge today. For the next 12 months, let us try to become the worthy citizens of this great land. Let's fight corruption and let's equally fight pollution. Let's obey the traffic rules and also the tax laws. Let's learn the lives and words of the past giants, while trying to shake off our petty interests. Let's work for the common interest, while working on overcoming our human selfishness. Let's treat our women with equality, while they learn what their real freedom is. Let's take a pledge to protect the national monuments, while caring also for her natural resources and ecological system. Let's burn our narrow caste and religious identities, while evolving spiritually, brightening the beacon of spiritual wisdom that this glorious land of ours was once for this whole world!

Overall, let us be the real patriots that silently and solemnly keep working for the welfare of this land as well as that of this whole beautiful world, instead of reserving our 'patriotism' for some special days or for sports matches.

Let's ensure that the pledge we made with the destiny and our tryst are consummated to the whole, instead of wilting away as just another failed affair!

Jai Hind!

Modern-Day Rishyasringas!

Those who have a fair idea of Hindu Mythology and Puranas would have definitely known about the sage Rishyasringa. Brought up only by his father Vibhandaka, a sage who hated the entire womenfolk due to the treatment meted out to him by the celestial dancer Urvashi, he never knew the presence of the opposite gender. He grew up without even knowing about the existence of women and the pull of the primal instincts. Having been brought up as a perfectly chaste and unique celibate, he fell face down at the first sign of 'trouble'. He was very easily seduced by a courtesan from the kingdom of Angha, whose mere sight unleashed all the unfelt desires deep inside his mind and he was very easily conquered by the lure of physique.

These days, I am feeling that all of us are being turned into Rishyasringas of a different kind. Have you ever noticed the increasing amount of advertisements for sanitisers and washes - ranging from face to body to 'intimate'?! Now there is even a special sanitiser for use after cutting vegetables!

Where is all this senseless and hedonistic hygiene headed?! What are we trying to protect ourselves from? Are we growing so insensible to the fact that the more we keep ourselves hidden from something the less immune we become towards it? And, any person with a very basic idea about the human body will be very much aware of the fact that this whole human body is teeming with micro-organisms of varied kinds, that having a 'clean' body without the proverbial 99.99% 'germs' is impossible. While basic hygiene is essential and a good thing for our own sakes, as for the sake of those around us, splashing the chemicals on our bodies and splurging on such cleansers and sanitisers is definitely not the right thing to do. It may be good for those companies that make such products, but for us mere mortals, such hedonistic indulgences in personal 'hygiene' will end up only in our turning more flimsy, fragile and vulnerable to the first signs of 'trouble'. After all evolution and immunity work by facing the challenges and overcoming them, not in such superficial measures and methods!

Book Review - Nationalism, Rabindranath Tagore

What a bore! Rabindranath Thakur might have been a great poet and philosopher, but he seems to have known little about the art of conveying the ideas succinctly so that they can reach their target audience.

Nationalism is another sick form of vile separatism that keeps the humans away from one another. While writing about such a critical concept shouldn't he consider the vast majority of laymen that might benefit by reading and contemplating on such topics?!

Agreed, these were lectures delivered by him for an elite audience at the West and the East, but I doubt that even those 'elite audience' would have kept rapt attention on his words. Once you cross some 20 lines you lose track of what you're reading about. I couldn't read it more than two pages at a time. Too wordy and tiresome.

Wish Thakur had known that no idea, however great it might be, would be driven home clearly, when presented using words that are too poetic and too abstract for attention!

Book Review – Rajmohan’s Wife, Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay

One of the resolutions that I had taken for this year was to improve my reading habits and expand the range of topics and authors. Bengali literature was one of the targets that I had kept for myself. Though I have already dabbled a bit with Tagore’s writings, this book of Bankim Chandra is my first proper foray into this much romanticized portion of Indian literature. I am happy in the end for having taken up this book.

Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay is one of the leading names in Bengali Classical literary stage and this novel ‘Rajmohan’s Wife’ is his only work in English. There are quite a lot of debates about why he didn’t continue writing in English choosing instead to write only in his mother tongue, Bengali. Let’s leave the debate for others and get into knowing about this much-acclaimed work of his.

Matangini, the character that lends the title to the book, is the wife of Rajmohan, a good-for-nothing brute, incapable of earning a living in honest and proper ways. Matangini, being a woman of virtues, bears his oppressive nature silently. Madhav Ghose, the heir of a rich family, is the husband of Matangini’s sister Hemangini. Caring for Matangini’s family, he takes them with him to his native place where he offers a job to Rajmohan, thus providing for his family. Rajmohan is paranoid, unethical, and of the nature that can bite the very hands that feed him. One day when Rajmohan conspires against Madhav, joining with some other forces that want to grab the wealth of Madhav, Matangini makes an uncharacteristic journey alone in the dark and dangerous night to Madhav’s place to warn him, thus warding off the calamity that could have befallen Madhav. It turns out also to be the night when her love and pent up passions for her brother-in-law Madhav are expressed for the first time. What happens after these two events is what the novel is all about.

As for the quality of writing, there was never a dull moment in the book. Starting from the portrayal of the characters to the climax, it is an absolute roller-coaster of a book. Emotions, virtues, melodrama, peeks into the culture of bygone days, thrill, humor, sarcasm – it is all there in this book. But there are some occasional grammatical errors, which, when pointed out by English readers, could have been a cause in Bankim’s dropping his attempts to write in English. Remember, this book was written in 1864, more than 150 years ago, when it was a thing of astonishment to see an Indian using the language of his rulers to express his ideas and opinions, let alone attempt a full-length novel.

There are some negative points though. This is not a ‘full-length’ novel, in fact. For all his vivid ways of depicting characters, building up the tempo and portrayal of the emotions, Bankim ends the novel in an abrupt fashion. Just as you start warming up for a more delicious feast, the climax is brought up, as if somebody waved the checkered flag just on the tenth lap of a Formula One race. He finishes the book in a hurry, noting down the fate of the characters in a line or two. Just imagine! Having the chance to dwell on the emotional high-drama of the pure love between Madhav and Matangini, the possibility of setting an example for the womenfolk of those days by letting us know the decision of Matangini about her relationship with the villainous Rajmohan, are just two reasons that could have added at least another couple of interesting chapters to the book.

But the book having come at a time it did, it wouldn’t have been possible for Bankim to portray the heroine as anything less than the highly noble and virtuous female that she is. Not just Matangini, some of the other characters in the book, Kanak and Tara, are also portrayed to be women of virtue and moral courage, who nevertheless abide by the customs of the time, leading silent and submissive lives in the shadows of their unworthy husbands. Also, the way in which the author finishes off his note on the life and future of our lovable Matangini, proves that this was not a book that intended to break a new path for the women of high character stuck in a moral dilemma, but a book that wanted to glorify the oft-praised qualities of women – sacrifice and chastity.

All in all, this book will be a breezy read and a worthy addition to your collection.

Book Review – India’s Struggle For Independence, Bipan Chandra

It is said that history is written by the victors, which means that the facts are often twisted to suit the needs and to the advantage of the writer. While Bipan Chandra does nothing to twist the facts, he has managed to take a partial view of the facts, as always. This is the second book by this same set of authors that I have read and just like the first one – ‘India Since Independence’ – this book also stands as a glaring testimony to the author’s/authors’ parochial attitude towards Congress.

While I am not one of those growing majority who take special pleasure in bashing Gandhi, Nehru and innumerable Congressmen who had given their all for the freedom struggle, what I cannot accept is projecting Congress as the one and only organization that brought freedom to the country. Never!

It is really a good work by the authors. Documenting the history of the freedom struggle of our country spanning a period of almost a century is no easy task. The authors deserve appreciation for even taking up such a big task. But what is not good about the book is the way in which the history is presented.

The efforts of anyone other than Congress is puffed away as puny or not paid as much attention as it deserves. Bhagat Singh, Bismil, Azad and other such daredevil youngsters have all got tagged as ‘terrorists’. Truth it might be, for their having taken up the violent methods to attain freedom, but something is not right about the way in which he belittles the efforts of even people like Bose. To prove my point, the entire episode of INA is given only one page with the overall part of Subhas Chandra Bose being reduced to just another also-ran!

The book should be renamed as ‘Congress’s Struggle for Independence’, because that is all you will ever read in this book. The author’s having a special liking to Nehru is quite apparent from his way of writing.

I would suggest that one can go for much better books than this, if one wants to read about the struggle for Indian independence in an unbiased manner.

Book Review – The Book of Woman, Osho

The one thing that I find disgusting about the publishing industry is that sometimes it tends to behave like music industry. If you are a lover of instrumental music, you might have come across those innumerable CDs and collections named ‘Music of the Earth’, ‘Music of the Water‘, ‘Music for Meditation’, ‘Music for Pregnant Women’ and other such myriad titles. According to many renowned musicians, these are nothing but a sham to sell music that couldn’t otherwise be easily sold. When a CD doesn’t have much prospects of being sold easily, they are bundled as music for this and music for that. Of course, there are some commendable exceptions but a majority of such packages are said to be nothing but a marketing trick.
 

Oftentimes, reading the works of Osho, I have felt similar emotions. No doubt this controversial monk (?) has some truly rebellious ideas and worthy advice for the young minds to follow. But most of the while, I find his words to be repetitive and of single dimension. Only with his eloquence that helped him convey the same idea in a variety of ways did his followers manage to have a flurry of books and CDs published against his name. Speaking of books, there is this fact that most of his ‘books’ are nothing but transcripts of his discourses to his disciples, domestic and international. Now, when you have a question-and-answer mode of conversation between a sage (!) and his followers, it becomes easy for you to pick and choose questions and publish them in various permutations and combinations.
 

With his having given thousands of such discourses, it becomes easier for his followers to publish ‘books’ on various topics with different combinations of such questions and answers. ‘The Book of Woman’ comes across as another such publication that helps the publisher mint money using that ever-attractive name of Osho. ‘The Book of Woman’ is just not what it claims to be. It is a bunch of questions by disciples and Osho’s answers to the same, gathered under various titles like Female, Sexuality, Family, Motherhood and such. But honestly, except for a chapter or two, the book  doesn’t directly deal with the woman or her uniqueness. The book doesn’t do justice to its title. Adding to the woes will be Osho’s now boring repetitions about women’s having multiple orgasms and men’s having only one and thus men having developed a sense of ‘inferiority complex’! Really?!
 

The book is filled with the same old ideas of Osho, about having an open mind about relationships (bordering on promiscuity), about both genders being unequal but unique, not repressing one’s emotions, sex being a brief glimpse into the vast awareness, women’s libbers being incorrect and the glory of meditation. If you haven’t read any book of Osho, this book can give you an idea about his way of thinking. If you’ve already, then this is a book that you can skip with much ease, without losing anything new at all. This is just old wine in an old bottle with a new label!

Book Review - The Absent Traveller, Prakrit Love Poetry from the Gathasaptasati of Satavahana Hala

All amidst our mundane lives, we humans find pleasure and seek succor in two ways. We either indulge in beliefs, hopes and dreams of lofty kinds, think of the afterlife and believe in a divine scheme of things that handholds us all through our lives. Or, on the other hand, we celebrate our basic carnality by diving deep into pleasures of the senses. Art, music and poetry have been three channels through which we try to bridge the gap between our carnal and ethereal selves. While the spiritual aspect of life has been left for a few of us to lead with a fair degree of success, the rest and the most of us face and celebrate our carnality on a day-to-day basis. This book is an example of such unabashed celebration and it celebrates our concupiscent nature with candor.

Lovemaking had never been a thing that people shied away from discussing in ancient India. For ancient India, sex was not just an act for procreation but was one of deep pleasure too, no matter how short-lived the pleasure may be. Our paintings portrayed it with élan, our sculptures depicted the various ways of copulation and the standards of beauty for men and women. And, who can forget that the much-talked about treatise on love, the Kamasutra, emanated from this land? Or, Kokkogam? Not to forget the greatest gallery of the art of lovemaking as hewed on stone in Khajuraho. All that was before the Victorian mores of a hypocritical nature invaded our land, but let me not digress.

Talking about poetry, this book is an example of how even banal topics like adultery can be presented with unparalleled aesthetics that even the most self-righteous mind would relish reading for the sheer poetic value, without any sense of judgement and aversion. The love and the lust, the blissful and the banal, the surreal and the venereal have all been arrayed here in this collection of poems and poetic excerpts from Prakrit literature. Extracted from the works of various poets - both men and women - and peoples from across ages, they prove that love and lust have both been topics of equally pleasurable pursuit for us Indians. Arvind Krishna Mehrotra, said to be a renowned poet on his own, has done a commendable job in selecting and translating the works for the benefit of poetry lovers.

This book is a glimpse into that lost age, when people were candid about their physical passions and unpretentious in embracing their animality without the modern-day hypocrisy of finding cheap titillation in 'wardrobe malfunctions', all the while pretending to have risen above the lesser physical nature. And all this, centuries before 'Lolitas' and 'Lady Chatterley's Lovers' caused furore in the 'civilized world'!

This is a very worthy read that one can enjoy for the aesthetically presented amorous themes!

Book Review - On Painting, Leon Battista Alberti

I picked up this book with a lot of hopes, since this was the treatise that was said to have influenced the likes of Leonardo da Vinci. However, the much lesser mortal that I am, I couldn't gain much out of reading this book. Though Leon is said to be a Renaissance master himself, modesty seems not to be one of his virtues. Ego oozes out of his words in many pages. He seems to have believed that he could do nothing wrong and people can all start painting in a much better way by merely following his techniques. And, those with alternative view points are simply brushed aside. Such a egoistic attitude leaves a poor taste behind!

As for the book, it comprises of three chapters, or, as he calls them, three 'books'. The first one is mostly about geometrical patterns and viewpoints. Though it begins easily, soon it devolves into genius-talks. Only the second and third 'book' speak in a normal tone and are easily comprehensible and useful. The second and third chapters indeed make for a breezy read. But, as already said, his egoistic attitude shines throughout the book. Don't read this book just because it is called a 'classic' and don't read this book, if you are hoping to learn much about painting. This is a very casual work that you can do without!

Book Review - Predictably Irrational, Dan Ariely

It has been quite a while now that I have come to the conclusion that we humans are not the rational, noble, sensible and sane species that we have been thinking of ourselves to be. While my opinion happens to have had its genesis in watching my fellow humans driving their vehicles, skipping the queues and behave in dumb ways wherever and whenever they can, Dan Ariely seems to have done a study about it in a proper, unbiased and academic way.

This is my second read of Dan's books and I can't help feeling a sense of déjà vu going throughout the book. Dan Ariely runs most of his experiments in a controlled environment - almost all the participants in most of the experiments are students who have been informed well in advance that they are taking part in an experiment. Sometimes, I wonder whether he conducts the experiments to find the truth or to affirm his pre-concluded notions.

A major part of the latter half of the book feels like you have landed in his other book 'The (Honest) Truth About Dishonesty', through some secret portal inside the paper. Repetition of his previous ideas and experiments, along with the controlled and simple nature of experiments - where he conducts experiments with his students and concludes that the uncontrolled animals that we are in the real world will also behave like those students - spoil the fun.

I can give this book somewhere between two and three stars. May be, 2.5?! Not sure!

Book Review – Abstract Expressionism, David Anfam

The human mind always develops a serious passion for two things – things that it couldn’t understand and things it couldn’t attain. Abstract art has been one such a passion of mine, one of those many things that I never understood, no matter how much I tried. Picking this book was one attempt of mine to grasp that art form called ‘Abstract Expressionism’. But little did I glean after having gone through this book.

Abstract Expressionism, or Gestural Abstraction, as it is called in another of many ways, is a form of art that is more visceral and volatile than any bit formal or constructed. Of course, even such a visceral art gets constructed by the artist through serious and sincere focus. And, all that I wanted to learn was about the stimuli and milieu that led to the genesis of this art form. I also wanted to learn as to what constitutes ‘abstract expressionism’ and other such qualifiers. David Anfam has done a good job with all that introduction, but the trouble begins with his delving deep in abstract terms to tackle his task of defining the history of Abstract Art forms.

I always love artworks that don’t reveal everything in mere lines, forms and colors, instead carrying a mysterious aura around them, taunting the viewer to look deeper to discern the same. Such works are what art is all about – an expression of the soul, catharsis for the pent up emotions and passions. While Abstract Art easily wins this award hands down, I don’t believe in artists merely splashing paint on a canvas and calling it abstract painting, letting the wannabe’ intellectuals offer any and every meaning that they can dig out of it, thus heaping undeserving glory on the ‘artist’. An artist expressing something of real sense through his work and allowing the viewer to discern the meaning out of it is one thing, while the artist doing the 'splashing' and letting the viewer’s perceptions allot a lofty sense and purpose to an otherwise ‘accidental’ art is something altogether different. The first part is what Abstract Expressionism is all about, whereas the second one is merely a sophisticated sham!

Coming back to this book, many of the artworks appear more like what you or I can do in a simple notebook, but David helps us delve deeper into their meanings and see beyond their seemingly simple exteriors – something that I always dread. If an art aficionado finds more meaning in a work of art - more than even what the artist had really intended to convey – what do you make of such a work? Is the artist to be glorified for encouraging such a thought process or is the viewer to be praised for assigning a meaning - when there were none (or not as much as was made out to be)?!

This and many more such questions of mine about Abstract Art were left unanswered as I closed the book. Little did I learn from this book and I feel that only I am to be blamed. Being a budding artist – of course, I can call myself so and still remain a humble being – I couldn’t understand all that greatness of the works of masters like Jackson Pollock and de Kooning. I can pin the blame on none other than Anfam for making the book a tad difficult for beginners like myself. May be I will revisit the book once I grow wise in life and art. May be then I will be able to understand this book better and revise my rating, but for the time being I can offer it nothing more than two-stars!

Book Review - Hind Swaraj, M.K.Gandhi

Are Gandhian principles relevant to today's 'Modern India'?

If you're a person who entertains such a question in your mind, then this book is definitely for you. Written more than a hundred years ago, this book continues to be relevant today and some of his views are indeed prophetic.

Even if you're one of those Gandhi-bashers, if you could keep your hatred for him aside for a while and read this book with the only aim of contemplating on the deeper meaning of his words instead of seeking opportunities to bash him further, you will find that his views on celibacy, soul-force, non-violence and self-rule all hold relevance even today.

There may be some points of his that may make us doubt his sanity or progressive nature. For example, be it his hatred for machines and modern civilisation or for the professions of law and medicine, a mere superfluous reading may make one squirm with disbelief at such 'backward' ideas, but read them in the context and they start making more meaning than ever before.

Of course, not all his über-ideal views will impress everyone and definitely none of us will even want such a world to come to truth, but this is a book worth reading if you want to know the truth that is Gandhi's mind and the convictions that pushed him onward on the path to excellence in the freedom struggle. A must-read for all those who love Indian History.

The 'Gift' of Nature?!

The more often you spend time with Nature and IN Nature, the more you get disillusioned about this human world and its frail prides. Plethora of flora and fauna, innumerable forms of life, the magical beauty of the environment around, the abundance of real wealth - air, light and water - around us, this whole planet that has survived billions of years of turmoil both within and around it, the vastness of the Universe that stares back at us in the form of the night sky - what a blessing it is to be alive!

There are people who believe that all this glory was created for the sake of only one species - the humans. To cast a look around the world, to be overwhelmed by the gifts of abundance from this Universe, and to listen to people's belief that all this greatness was created by a bloodthirsty megalomaniac of a god, for the welfare and enjoyment of only one of the species (stupidest, meanest, most exploitative and extremely self-aggrandizing species to have ever lived upon this planet) - us humans, feels like an insult to the Nature.

 

Even if there is really a god, calling this vast Universe as a creation for the amusement of only the mankind feels like an insult to that god. An insult that not even the worst kind of atheist can heap upon Her!

Book Review – Wild In The Backyard, Arefa Tehsin

Wondering what should you gift your pre-teen kid for this birthday? Buy them this book. Even otherwise, you can give this book to them as a casual gift. In fact, not just your kids, but to your nieces, nephews and the kids in your neighbourhood as well, in case you still happen to have such an affectionate bond of old days with your neighbours. Even if there are no kids at your home (or your neighbourhood), just gift yourself with this book. You will not regret it.

The author Arefa Tehsin is said to be an enthusiastic naturalist since her childhood days and it reflects clearly in this work. Once you start reading this book you will understand why. A lovely book about all those critters that pervade our homes and gardens. Ants, bees, frogs, birds, squirrels, snails, centipedes, millipedes, rats and mice and lizards and mosquitoes and monkeys and…have you ever cared to stop and look at them attentively as they cross your path – or as YOU cross THEIR path? This book will make you stop and notice them like never before.

The author shares many facts about hitherto uncared for creatures in our lives in a funny – at times crossing the lines of politeness and decency though not in a serious way - yet professional manner. The book is written as if addressing a school-kid, but who says that grown-ups cannot read children’s books? In fact, this is a book that contains facts that even we grown-ups have not learnt or known till date.

While telling us about the little bugs, birds, rodents and insects that live with us in our homes and backyards, the author has subtly stressed on the need to preserve nature as well. Her care for all the life forms is quite evident. When you finish reading this book, her love, concern and enthusiasm for the ecosystem are bound to infect you for certain – without even any of those critters biting you!

If you are a parent, I would recommend that you read this book sitting with your kid. This is a way to instill in those young minds the love for nature and empathy for our fellow occupants of this beautiful planet.

An interesting read indeed!

Book Review – The Argumentative Indian, Amartya Sen

No other author that I have ever known could stay true to his/her words and convictions throughout the course of the book as Mr.Amartya Sen can. He begins the book with the following words: ‘Prolixity is not alien to us in India.’ And, he goes on to prove his point with page after page of words that come back at you like the ocean waves – repetitive and superfluous. Prolixity may not be alien to us in India, but brevity definitely seems to be an alien concept to Mr.Sen.

To begin with, the title: When I first heard the name ‘The Argumentative Indian’, I was thinking that this book will deal with the Indian history, not just about the positives of it but also about the not-so-positive ones that defied any reason as well. But this book is not a coherent one, if you are keen on learning the history of India, its culture and identity, as the subtitle misleads you to be. The title of this book should have been ‘Demystifying Indian History : Writings against the Hindu Fundamentalists and Hindu Nationalists’ for that is all this book ever tries to do, from the beginning to the end. All that the author ever tries to do is to prove that India is not as great as it is thought to be (by Hindu Nationalists) and it is not as worse as it was portrayed to be (by Western racists – like James Mill and Winston Churchill).

Then, words: The author is blessed with quite a vocabulary that could fill an entire library and an amazing literary skill, having been a student of Tagore’s ‘Shanti Niketan’. But he lacks the skill of brevity. Wish he had known that an idea expressed in more words than necessary seldom manages to hold the attention of the reader. Lengthy sentences that monotonously repeat what was already told elsewhere fail to impress or even convey clearly what they are intended to. 10 lines into the book and your attention already flies off elsewhere.
 

Third will be repetition: 100 pages or so into the book, you find it quite tedious to progress any further. He seems to repeat the same things throughout the book – the secularism of Akbar and Ashoka, the atheist schools of Lokayata and Carvaka, Rama’s mortality and Javali’s advice to him, the differences between Gandhi and Tagore, the insensibilities of the ‘Hindu’ nationalists and how India wasn’t as great in the past as it was made out to be. The criss-cross referencing that ruins the flow of the work is a curse too. A book that carries endnotes and footnotes that consume more than 10% of its total size is definitely not going to help make the reading flow smooth, I am sure. Every other line or so, you have a footnote or an endnote shoved down your throat. His constant reminder of how he discussed – or is going to discuss - the current topic elsewhere in the same book – or, elsewhere in the world - is not helping matters either. Good that he gives a caveat about such repetition in the beginning of the book, bad that I didn’t take it seriously.
 

Fourth, his so-called secular attitude: one of the follies of the present day ‘seculars’ and ‘intellectuals’ of this country is to pounce upon every opportunity to prove how wrong the Hindu fundamentalists are with their stances and views, all the while expressing easy or even no opinions about the radical behaviors of such fundamentalists from other religions. Mr.Sen is guilty of this too. He even comes close to suggesting that the conflict of Kargil was a provocation more on the part of India, while mentioning that the part of Pakistan’s army regulars in that conflict may or may not be true. Really, Mr.Sen?! Attempting to sound neutral, Mr.Sen ends up sounding so annoying and without sense in many places, especially when he uses the negative word of ‘chauvinism’ to refer to the basic human inclination to praise one’s own country!
 

Overall, Mr.Sen has woven a web of words, akin to that of a spider’s. Sticky, repetitive, muddling and uni-dimensional, written more with the purpose of proving a point or two against the Hindu radicals of this country. Except for a few brilliant pages, rest of all is drab! Disappointed, to say the least.