September rain

 

It rained so hard,
I forgot to weep.
The drops fell all in a blur
and the world became soft around its edges.
The ache dulled,
blacks faded to greys,
and the screams in my head became whispers.
The rain fell hard
and I forgot to remember. 

Book review: Ashoka by Charles Allen

 

 

Title: Ashoka
Author: Charles Allen

Genre: Historical non-fiction

Publisher: Abacus (3 January 2013)

Price: Paperback Rs. 496, Hardcover Rs. 750, and Kindle edition Rs. 151 on Amazon

Pages: 480

This book was the reason I fell in love with King Ashoka, the "stumpy, pot-bellied, pumpkin-faced, fragile King who had the tendency to faint under stress".

The book itself is written like a detective story, narrating how Ashoka's life was painstakingly pieced together clue by tiny clue by the "Orientalists", beginning in the 18th Century.

Charles Allen has kept it real, without being pretentious, overly academic or puffed up with his own importance as many literary historical non-fiction writers tend to do. The language is simple, current, and narrative.

At the same time, there's a faint hint of the author's tenderness towards this King throughout the book. In the way he regrets the way Ashoka and his efforts in making Buddhism the way it is now, have been unrecognised even now, in the way he recognizes the tender feelings in Ashoka's one of the more emotional edicts near the Ajanta caves when he was young, and the way he talks about his appearance.

I’m not a great non-fiction reader, but this book, I absolutely loved. It also triggered a need in me to want to know more details about King Ashoka Maurya, and everything to do with that period.

Book review: Jasoda by Kiran Nagarkar

 

Title: Jasoda
Author: Kiran Nagarkar

Genre: Contemporary Fiction

Publisher: Fourth Estate (25 November 2017)

Price: Hardcover Rs. 449, and Kindle edition Rs. 253.80 on Amazon

Pages: 235

So here's why I have mixed feelings about Kiran Nagarkar's 'Jasoda'... This was my second Nagarkar book and after 'Cuckold', I started reading this with high expectations. It started off well. A gut-wrenching story of a woman struggling in rural Rajasthan and later in relentless Mumbai, told in a casual, matter-of-fact manner.

There were pages when I just wanted to shut my eyes tight and not read anymore because it was so gut-wrenching. There were also parts when I couldn't stop reading.

But as the book progressed, the story telling kept getting too casual, very disjointed in parts. For example, one moment the family returns to their village and the older son rejoins school, you turn the page, and now he's a professor in a college in the USA and dating a white woman, who becomes his wife almost immediately.

Sure the book touches on several prevalent social evils.. patriarchy, female infanticide, abusive husband, poverty, tyranny of the ruling class... and sure, you do hurt for Jasoda, you weep for her and all the women who have to go through so much pain. But the second half of the book feels totally unnecessary, and seems like it's been written in a hurry, with the intention of "just need to finish this already!" I guess it's not surprising since the author started writing the book more than 20 years ago and completed it only recently. There is bound to be a disconnection with the passing of so much time.

To summarize, not one of his finest works. Now I feel like pulling out 'Cuckold' and reading it all over again just to remind myself why I liked Kiran Nagarkar in the first place.

1. A little boy, wearing his mother’s dupatta as a cape and running around making dishum dishum noises.

2. This little guy who hitched a hike with me for a whole 10 minutes in the auto today on my way to work.

3. This mini idly fry I tried out:

 It was yummm!

Frangipani

This fallen flower I picked up on my way to work this morning is giving me so much joy today!

Things that made me smile today.

1. The sight of these gorgeous fresh flowers filling my vase, first thing this early morning.

2. A tiny wide-eyed button-nosed puppy pug sitting between two men in an auto and peeking out.

3. Overhearing a woman telling someone over the phone about how she intended to make chitranna this morning, but fell short of gojju and how she managed to rescue the situation. (Smiled because I regularly discuss very similar morning-kitchen-disasters with my mother over the phone, and had a total empathy moment with her!)

4. Seeing a colleague do her little routine first thing this, as well as every morning: remove her shoes, place a tiny flower in front of her God’s picture, fold her hands, close her eyes and offer a little prayer before beginning her work.

5. Suddenly remembering it’s Fridayay when I’m deep in the middle of work!

6. My new haircut I got on my way home today!

7. This tiny lemon plant that has sprouted from the lone seed I had planted just to see if it would sprout! And it did!

Living.

Nandi Hills

I’m pretty sure, that the first place that comes to any Bangalorean’s mind when thinking of a day trip is Nandi Hills. It’s a place I’ve visited innumerable times, but still doesn’t fail to catch my interest every time. There’s just that one view or that one tree that’ll catch my fancy and make it yet another special visit.

I remember the first time I went was with my parents, siblings, and a bunch of cousins and uncles and aunts. I was in middle school then and the archeology bug had bitten me bad. Nandi Hills seemed full of possibilities. I knew it had something to do with Tipu Sultan, and he used to push his enemy soldiers off the rocky cliff there, but that was just about it. Once there, I saw the very old temple there, and I was fascinated. I roped in my cousin into my plot to analyze the secrets of the temple. We went about collecting pebbles strewn around the temple, in the hopes of “analyzing” them once we got home. I think we even tried to pry off a piece of stone or two from the pillars just outside the temple, but got scolded by my extremely perplexed dad. I prefer to block that part out of my mind. Nevertheless, we still had a plastic bag full of stones. That night we reached my house and immediately proceeded to wash the pebbles and scrub the dirt vigorously out of it in the hopes of finding some inscription or other. Nothing emerged, so we gave up. I vaguely remember the bag full of extremely clean pebbles lying around at home for a few days, then grandpa spotted it and threw it away after a lot of grumbling about wayward grandchildren who filled the house with dirt.

Anyway, after that trip I have been to Nandi Hills several more times. With family, with friends… and every time it has been interesting.

This time it was no different. Not to worry, there was no archeology involved, and I didn’t collect any rocks this time. It was the gorgeous clouds, trees, dew-soaked leaves and grass that caught my eye.

Aren’t the clouds absolutely gorgeous? All brilliant blue sky and fluffy white clouds suddenly turning into badass grey and further into menacing black…

The (in)famous temple seemed to be blending into the sky.

This monkey jumped on to the roof of our car as soon as we parked. It had a packet of food which it began to eat. We were amused at first at its antics, especially the kids. But when we came back from our wanderings we saw it had left its poop all over the windshield. Ugh. Bad monkey.

Just a sample of the plants that I found interesting. Look how green and soft that grass looks!

That wild, untameable hair! It was really windy up there.

I thought these iron grills looked very pretty!

That’s about most of us…

I really loved these colourful benches. They weren’t here the last time I visited.

Oh these trees! So beautiful, graceful. Despite, or maybe because, they’re so old and gnarled, and moss covered.

I HAVE to talk about this dahi vada we had at the restaurant just before turning off the highway. It was yumm!

Dark is the night

 

When it's all darkness and gloom,

and the worms and the gnomes

are dreading of their doom;

When shadows call

and  stars
       

        
                       
                        fall

That's when all

thoughts
come to
noughts. 

Losin’ it

Randy Brandy,

Fancied himself a Dandy.

His dad realized he’s Handy,

And set him up to wrap Candy.