Let Bygones Be Bygones

I have no respect for even a single politician of this generation. I have no affinity to any of the casteist, religious, societal ideologies either. All I trust is this - when a life ends, when death occurs, all the goodness and evil associated with that life come to end. The soul departs leaving behind all the glories and condemnations. We, as decent human beings and fellow souls, can only pay respect to it and pray for its salvation.

But the things that I see in social media are absolutely horrifying. And, repulsive to say the least. Never has one seen the animals celebrating the death of one of their own. But here, we civilized humans are busy taking side, for and against Karunanidhi, reviling one another in words soaked in filth and acid, laying bare all the religious, casteist muck dumped inside our minds.

Holy or wicked, let his Karma deal with him. This is not the moment to don the holy garb and judge him. There is no pride in attacking someone when he cannot defend himself. Similarly there is no goodess in reviling someone at one's death. If you can, do pray for the soul. If not, just go about your tasks, ignoring the death. Taking to social media, throwing sickly words about his death or hurling dirty abuses at unseen, unknown people belonging to other ideologies/religions/castes, just because they eat, pray, think, sleep or shit in a way different from yours is to only prove how lowly a creature we humans are.

Let peace prevail!

Life & Limitless Perspectives

Life is all about perspectives. Well, I know it is a cliché, but Life has a way of repeating its lessons till we learn and remember them by the heart of our inner-hearts. Had to come across one such a repeat session recently.

A couple of weekends ago, on a late summer Saturday afternoon laced with languor, I had accompanied my spouse to a furniture exhibition. After going through the stalls, we decided to have a bite at the food-court outside. As we sat at our table, digging into the dishes in front of us, our eyes fell on a janitor cleaning the tables nearby – an elderly woman with shriveled skin, lean physique but straight posture, her silvery hair tied into a neat bun, not a strand out of place. The style of her sari and the fading tattoos on her forearms made it clear that her origins lay in the land of lovely Telugu. The wrinkles on her hands and cheeks would put a fractal artist to shame, with skin-folds that crisscrossed into countless patterns. Here was another human being, performing a menial job, but her mien and dignity second to none there.

My wife also noticed the lady and, with astonishment in her eyes, mentioned how fortunate we both are, in the sense that we are both young and have our organs, especially our skins, intact. She expressed pity for the elderly woman’s having to work at this advanced age and remarked that such a state should never befall us.

Cleaning the floors and tables, collecting the disposable-cups and paper-plates carelessly thrown around by ‘the rich and the educated’, the elderly janitor came near our table. From the corner of my eyes, I could see that she didn’t move ahead but stood next to our table, mumbling something. Being a run-of-the-mill big-city-dweller, I assumed that the elderly woman was asking us for money. Calculating in my mind for the spare change in my wallet, I turned to face that lady, only to realize that she wasn’t even looking at us. Her gaze was on a good-looking middle-aged woman, sitting on a wheel-chair pushed by a younger woman. It was to make way for this woman on wheel-chair that our janitor lady stood aside, standing next to our table.

I was feeling a sense of guilt for my condescending assumption. After the woman in wheelchair and her companion moved ahead, the elderly janitor shook her head and, turning towards me, remarked ‘What a pitiable condition! Such a state should never befall us. It’s our good karma that we have our organs intact and don’t need someone’s help to move around’. Saying that with an innocent look, she went on collecting garbage from the floors and wiping clean the tables.

Is Life indeed all about perspectives? What do you think?

Book Review – Doing Business Without Your Money, Dr. Suresh Haware

Ask any celebrated author to share some words of advice for the budding writers and he/she is bound to talk about the importance of reviewing – editing - one’s work before making it public. Making the most of one’s flowing creativity and putting thoughts on paper in a hurry is one thing, whereas going through that output and separating wheat from waste is a different business altogether. Sadly, most Indian authors fail at the crucial final step. This book falls under that category.

A friend gifted me this book, stating that the author is one of the renowned businessmen in Maharashtra and an inspiring figure for aspiring entrepreneurs. Infected by her enthusiasm, I picked the book, hoping to get some long-awaited inspiration to start something on my own. But, alas, what a disappointment this book has given me!

Dr. Suresh Haware, a nuclear scientist-turned-builder-turned-politician, has attempted to share his experience and wisdom on entrepreneurship with the budding businessmen out there. While the motive is very much commendable, the style of expression falls far behind. By reading the title, one is bound to believe that this book is about the various ways of raising capital for starting one’s business. However, except for the dabbling at the first few pages, the author moves on to an ambitious attempt at teaching every other aspect of running a business, which becomes the downfall for this book.

Instead of dwelling on specific guidance, the book contains generic advice that gets repeated in every chapter. With incoherent, repetitious writing style, shoddy spelling (’Procter & Gambel’), glaring grammatical mistakes (‘towing the line’), glaring errors in facts (the name of the disgraced Satyam Computer Services founder is mentioned as ‘Mahalingam Raju’ instead of Ramalingam Raju), this book makes reading quite a toil.

While the intention of the author – to inspire youngsters to become ‘businessmen’ and create wealth for the nation - deserves praise for sure, his book doesn’t. Except for being good in patches, very small ones at that, the book doesn’t carry much that one cannot learn through basic common sense and observation.

Buy this book with someone else’s money, if you don’t want to waste yours.

Book Review - The Chronicles of Hanuman, Shubha Vilas

No matter whether one is a Hindu or an atheist, no matter which sect - within Hinduism - one belongs to, some gods and the tales about them carry a sense of charm and awe always. According to me, Krishna, Ganesh and Hanuman are such a trio. Every child gets pulled towards them and holds at least one of them as their favorite even after growing up. As one grows up listening to the tales about them, one also ends up learning glorious virtues that will make one walk the path of righteousness. This book is one such opportunity - both to teach the children about the heroic deeds of Hanuman and to recall these childhood tales and feel our hearts become light.

Hanuman, the glorious 'Monkey God' of the Hindu pantheon, needs no introduction and almost every worthy Hindu - or one who has read Ramayan - is aware of his contribution and part in Rama's rescue of Sita from the demonic Ravan. This book presents Hanuman's life story in lovely little tales that stoke one's interest for more. Right from Hanuman's birth and childhood to his post-Ramayan 'existence' are all presented here in a manner that will make reading such a pleasurable experience.

Of course, there is nothing much new except the already widely circulated stories about Hanuman, but that never reduces their charm. Also, the 'morals' at the end of every tale that the author tries to derive, sound so mundane and forced. But the tales are what one picks this book for and the book does justice to it. Bonus would be the little guide in the end about the famous Hanuman temples in the country and also the transcription/translation of Hanuman Chalisa.

Read this, keeping aside all your grown-up questions and logic and it will be one pleasant, lovely read. Recommended!

Book Review – Holy Cancer, Amit Vaidya

Life has this strange knack of making us do the very things that we swear to never ever do. I got a taste of this lesson once again. Couple of years ago, a friend of mine had gifted me a book with good intentions. But, the book was so crappy and the writing style so stupid that I couldn’t stomach it beyond 15-odd pages and had to throw it away. I made a promise to myself that I would never again pick up books that are unworthy and uninspiring. But, alas, another book just got added to that category and, unfortunately, this one was also a gift from a good friend.

When a friend of mine, whose family member is ailing from cancer, gave me this book to read and review, I was hopeful of reading through some inspiring literature that could help me spread positive vibes around. But the word ‘positive’ is in no way related to this book. If anything, this book is at best a pity-party and worthless whining. At least till the 100-odd pages that I could toil through, before dumping the book once and for all.

Amit Vaidya, whose memoir this book is, was a well-settled NRI who went through the traumatic experience of losing his parents within a couple of years, both to serious ailments. He himself was diagnosed with cancer and was predicted with only few months’ survival period. Tired of loneliness and determined to explore the alternative medicines, Amit arrived in India, taking the help of family-friends and relatives. However, except for a few, all his relatives showed an ‘indifferent’ and ‘uncaring’ attitude towards him. Managing to garner the support somehow, he arrived at a hospital in Gujarat that is said to offer a cure for cancer through natural methods and cow-products. And, that is how far I could get through in the book, before losing patience completely and throwing the book away.

The author states once that he does not like self-pity, but the pages all reek of it. Here is a guy, who wants the whole world to care for him and pamper him, without even giving a moment’s thought as to what it entails to support a terminally-ill patient, both emotionally and financially. Here is a guy who went and settled abroad, trying to make his life there but having had his dreams all cut short due to illness, returning home to the cousins and aunts that he didn’t take much time to interact with prior to his parents’ demise, now expecting all those people – that he didn’t care much about earlier - to care for him and help him heal.

Before you wear a holy garb and cast a stone at those ‘wicked relatives’, consider the following - a now-distanced-once-close relative of yours suddenly arrives at your home, seemingly in good health but claiming to be ailing from cancer, seeks the intense emotional care and monetary support that the treatment for diseases like cancer demand, but never ever shares much details about his ailment with you. Will you really be the good Samaritan that you would expect Amit’s relatives to be?

In this age and world, going through the day-to-day life in the routine manner is by itself taxing and demanding. Add to it the demands of caring for a relative that suddenly pops out of nowhere and asks to be cared for in his ‘final days’ – recipe enough to cause consternation in anybody’s mind. Many of his demands and complaints against his relatives, while he himself seems to be unaware of the plans in his mind, sound as sheer hypocrisy, especially since he had never been much of a part in their lives whom he bitterly speaks about for not caring for him.

This book is – at least till whatever page I could put myself through – a show of vainglorious hypocrisy soaked in self-pity. If you want something better and truly inspiring, I would recommend ‘When Breath Becomes Air’.

This book could very well have been named as ‘Holy Shit’, because it is sheer crap that sounds holier-than-thou. Inspiring is an adjective that I would never associate with this book!

Book Review – Origin, Dan Brown

There is something special about the works of Dan Brown. One of the few authors whose works of fiction I devour with passion, Dan Brown has mastered the art of writing what I would call ‘encyclopedic thrillers’. Between those covers lie a huge trove of details about history, art, religion and science. Every time I finish reading a book by him, I end up adding at least 2-3 books to my to-read list. Such an awe-inspiring author he is. However, this book turns out to be one of his disappointing efforts.

Edmond Kirsch is a billionaire computer scientist and futurist who has discovered something that could end up disturbing the deeply-seated religious beliefs. Robert Langdon, one of his trusted friends, gets invited to the event in Guggenheim museum for the announcement of that discovery. In front of the entire audience, Edmond gets brutally murdered before he could announce his discovery. Robert Langdon, having prominently figured in his pre-presentation video, and Ambra Vidal, the charming director of the museum, who worked closely with Edmond to prepare for the event, are both left to run for their dear lives. Chased by what appears to be the conspiracy to eliminate every loose end, Robert and Ambra race through the architectural and historical monuments of Spain to find out Edmond’s discovery and let it be known to the world. Did they succeed? This book answers the question.

As I already said, Dan Brown is an author who weaves a lovely tapestry of tales, putting together facts from various faculties – science, history, art, architecture, religion and what-not! His ability to weave an intricate tale is never to be doubted. But somehow in this book, they are all starting to sound so routine and to some extent even hampering the flow. Brown seems to be settling into a pattern which is not good. What worked in Angels and Demons will not work always. Robert Langdon running for his dear life, trying to unravel the mysteries, accompanied by a female protagonist, giving us lessons on history and religion - it is all starting to sound so similar. Time to think of something different?

Again, neither the story nor the ending are what used to set apart Dan’s works. If you’re a fan of Hollywood movies, who also happens to read widely about science and technology, you get to predict the antagonist and the climax well in advance – at about 200 pages itself. Once the suspense is gone, what remains is another 250-odd pages of dull and uninspiring reading. Either Dan Brown has become predictable or I have gathered the uncanny knack of Sherlock Holmes in seeing beyond the obvious. To avoid sounding so boastful, I guess it is the former that is the case.

 
Routine, predictable and sluggish, this book reminds me of a work by Shakespeare – Much Ado About Nothing!

Book Review – Mahashweta, Sudha Murty

OK. Let me confess. I have this bitter prejudice towards ‘celebrity’ authors. But you will understand my prejudice if you look around the current literary scenario. These days any celebrity can lend their initials – literally – to the brainchild of somebody else and smugly enjoy all the accolades and royalties for someone else’s efforts. How else can you explain it, when a fast-bowler, known more for off-field antics than on-field heroics, one who cannot even write a proper tweet without making himself a butt of jokes, suddenly writes a ‘memoir’ (!) and rakes in the moolah?!

Sudha Murty was one author whose works I had shunned for so long due to this same prejudice. I thought of her as someone who was making hay as the sun shined – hogging limelight more for her being the spouse of Narayanamurty, the legendary founder of Infosys, than for her own literary prowess. This book proved me wrong completely. This book is a flowing tale of a female protagonist, who gets shunned by all and sundry, including the man who ‘loved’ and married her, for the only reason that she has started developing white patches on her skin.

Anupama is your quintessential Indian heroine, her beauty sans pareil, her intelligence of highest order, everything about her good and lovely. The only defect about her is her poverty. Anand is an equally charming, equally brilliant, but abundantly rich hero, who falls in love at first sight with our heroine. Then come the typical step-mother and the equally typically incapable father of Anupama. On Anand’s side are his mother, who is bent on flaunting her social status, and an arrogant sister. When Anand from high-society falls in love with Anupama, they get married without any trouble. While everything seems to be going in Anupama’s favor, she develops ‘leukoderma’, which results in her developing white patches on skin. As could be expected, she gets shunned by her in-laws, with her husband proving to be utterly uncaring. Returning to her maternal home, she gets ill-treated by her step-mother as could be expected. While on the verge of killing herself, she has her epiphany and decides to take charge of her life. Was she able to rebuild her life? Did she find the overcome the ‘stigma’ of skin deformity in a society obsessed with mere external beauty? The book answers these questions.

The tale is written in a simple, flowing, interesting manner. But nothing about the book feels original. The events all remind you of those sad Indian movies of 1950s and 60s. The end is, again, not much convincing or, as modern-day ‘feminists’ might say, ‘ground-breaking’. Also the claim that there is a similar novel with the same name, written by Marathi author Sumati Kshetramade, leaves a not-so-pleasant taste in the mouth.

This book is a nice read, but nothing much can be taken from this.

Mahashweta – mixed emotions!