Thursday, 14 September 2017

My Way of Being Healthy


1. I get to bed early
By the time the hour hand of the clock passed ten in the night, I start yawing. I slip into my bed. My body clock tells me that it is five and open my eyes.
2. Exercise
I cannot do without thirty minutes exercise, every day morning and evening. While the time period of thirty minutes is fixed, the exercise regime is quite flexible. So I run, I walk, I pick the weights and do some yoga. The mind co-operates when you don't tie it tightly to one particular exercise.
3. No fried items
While there is nothing wrong with fried items, the residue oil which is high in cholestrol and triglycrides is used for cooking food. It is harmful. So I have a rule, no fried things at home. I do eat them when I am out. That restricts the intake of samosas to one or two and the remainder oil doesn't find its way to my stomach.
4. Meditation
I love to meditate. Again like exercise my meditation is flexible. If you impose anything upon the mind it revolts. But you give tiny morsels to it and it begins to like it. I not only meditate behind the close doors, but I am also happy being in the moment while going for a walk and while touching the soft cheeks of my baby.
5. Eat sprouts
Everyone knows the magical effect of sprouts. So I add a little sprouts to my rice. Sometimes I have delicious curries of sprouts too.
6. Count your blessings
Counting your blessings inculcates a sense of gratitude in you. Gratitude goes hand in hand with happiness. A positive state of mind is very important for a healthy body and mind.
7. Eat flex seeds
Flex seeds are the heart's tonic. Some times I eat them raw, some times I make chutney out of it.
8. Laugh a lot
Laugter is so important for a good health. My one year old baby and me have formed a laughter club, where we laugh for no rhyme and reason. When I say, laugh it is good belly laugh and not just parting of lips.
9. Accuspressure
Stepping on the accupressure mat and pressing the points with the accupressure pen is one of my favourite pasttimes. I belive in alternative therapies and indulge myself into it whenever time offers.
10. Don't bloat yourself
Yes I am a foodie and sometimes I eat like a glutton, but at the same time there are days when I spread my food over a stretch, instead of eating it all, at one go. 
I am joining Saffola #ApneTareekeSeHealthy initiative and sharing my ways of being healthy in association with BlogAdda

Wednesday, 13 September 2017

The Quest of the Sparrows - Book Review


The Quest of the Sparrows has an interesting premise which instantly strikes a chord with the reader. The protagonist crushed under the work pressure and whose marital life is on a toss may appear a reflection of many of us. We then encounter the fundamental question, what is life all about? This leads to a spiritual odyssey. The protagonist Nikhil starts a soul searching journey. When he visits the ashram, he realises that the swami is dead and now he is succeeded by a strapping youth Partibhan. Nikhil has his own reservations about the new Master. Yet he becomes a part of the group lead by Partibhan, which undertakes journey to Ganpatipule on foot. They do not carry a single penny with them and live on alms. In return they agree to do some chores for their benefactor. On this journey they meet people with different temperaments. They touch each other lives and elevate to another plane. Partibhan emerges as a spiritually evolved person in this journey. But there are some who are apprehensive about Partibhan. They believe Partibhan is a charlatan. Again Partibhan has his skeletons of his past buried inside the cupboard. Is Partibhan indeed a charlatan? Are Sanjeev’s apprehensions true? To find an answer to these questions you will have to read the book the Quest of the Sparrows.

When it comes to writing the book is extremely well written. The editing is clean and the pace keeps you hooked to the story. Lines like ‘Being spiritual doesn’t mean one has to be indifferent. Sometimes, controlled anger is necessary to check injustice,’ indeed do offer a new spiritual insight.

But the novel falls off-track with Sanjeev and Partibhan’s past, and our journey to Ganpatipule is abandoned midway. I believe the novel would have been class apart if the authors had chosen to stick to the Ganpatipule foot journey alone. Not doing so makes this novel just an average read.


Monday, 4 September 2017

The Life of Hinduism

The Life of Hinduism is a montage of classic essays on Hinduism. The book almost touches every aspect of the revered religion or way of life, whichever term you like to use. The book is divided into eight parts.
In the first part Worship idol worship, fasts and discovery of Vrindavan are dealt with. In the following part The Life Cycle, the menace of child marriage is discussed. It tells us how divorce and remarriage is easier in so called lower strata’s of the society, while the higher caste widows are expected to lead a lonely life without a partner. It is in this part that the most exciting essay in the collection features. Titled Death and beyond Death: The Ochre Robe, many esoteric secrets are shared in this marvellous write up. This essay builds a suspense, intrigues you and towards the end even offers some solace.

In the part Festival, Diwali and Holi are discussed. Being an Indian I didn’t find anything interesting about these essays for I have been celebrating these festivals throughout my life.

Another part of the collection which sparkles is Performance. Ramlila, TV serial Ramayan and possession by deities feature in this part. It is interesting to know about Ramnagar’s famous Ramlila and its distinctiveness. The author of this essay views it not only from her own eyes but also through that of ordinary peasants who have assembled for the Ramlila. In every part of India we have seen many women and a few men who claim to have been possessed by God and Goddesses. Here the author quotes the reason why deities like Vishnu and Shiva never posess anyone. She narrates how cults are formed by these godmen and women and their clashes, at times fights with each other.

In the section called Gurus we meet Anandmayi Ma and Radhasoami. With Anandmayi Ma, the Goddess first time came in the form of a woman and women felt secure in her company for even then there was no dearth of Godmen who exploited the poor, illiterate women. Though Ma kept on telling that God was present everywhere including the devotees, she was exalted to the status of God.

In the caste section, Ravidas, his poetry and politics surrounding it find mention. A Brahmin Woman : Revenge Herself by Lalitambika Antarjanam is a bold short story. Here she discusses sensitive issues like sexuality. Indeed the author was much ahead of her times.

Diaspora section is about building of a temple in United States with the help from Tirupati Devasthanam. In the section identity, the Ayodhya dispute finds mention. Ironically this chapter also tells us about many places where Hindus and Muslims pray alongside, and even together.

These essays are well researched scholarly works, and it is a pleasant surprise that they are interesting and not insipid pieces of research. This book, backed with solid study and fine equilibrium is not to be missed for sure.

Thursday, 31 August 2017

Listening for Well-Being - Book Review


How would you feel if you entered the cinema hall seeing the poster of a Salman Khan film and instead of a blockbuster masala film, an insipid government documentary was dished out on your face. You may say this contingency is not likely to occur. Well something on the similar lines happened when I picked up Listening for Well-Being Conversations with People Not Like Us.

The catchy title had increased my expectations. I wanted to learn to how to listen to people who are not like me. That is exactly what the title promised right. After skimming through the initial few pages, I thought that perhaps the style of the writer was different from other self-help books. But after reading further, I realized that I was wrong.

The author simply seems to have forgotten that a book is meant for the readers. Absorbed and lost in his own days of planning commission, he simply misses to forge any sort of connect with his readers.

This book is neither a self-help book nor is it an interesting memoir. Enter it at your own risk, is all that I can say.

Wednesday, 30 August 2017

The Greatest Urdu Stories Ever Told

The Greatest Urdu Stories Ever Told is undoubtedly a gathering of the finest stories I have ever read. There are twenty five stories in this collection. The introduction to the book by the translator is also worth being treasured. It offers hereto unknown insights about Urdu stories. I knew Munshi Premchand as one of the greatest writers in Hindi. The introduction told me that he is the first professional short story writer in Urdu. Now, this completely shattered the image of the man who portrayed poverty in most of his poignant works.

The story which I liked the most is Beyond the Fog by Qurratulain Hyder. Until now for me short stories were good only if they had a very strong emotional content. I don’t mean to say that the aforesaid story lacks it. But this story of rags to riches of a sweeper woman’s daughter is packed with entertainment quotient. I could not control the mirth which aroused after reading this story. This story for me is a course in story telling itself. Purists may prune it aside saying this story tells and doesn’t show. But as a reader I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Toba Tek Singh another story in the collection by Saddat Hasan Manto narrates the plight of lunatics in an asylum in pre-partition India. On partition the Hindu lunatics will be swapped for the Muslim lunatics in India. This story is quest of a lunatic to know on which side of the border his town Toba Tek lies. Premchand’s The Shroud is different from the rest of his work that I have read. This story if of two lazy men, a father and son. They strangulate the humanity by feasting upon the funeral expenses of the wife of the son. Obscure Domains of Fear and Desire by Naiyer Masud demonstrates how the mind both desires and undesires the desires. In Rajinder Singh Bedi’s Laajwanti the wife who has returned from her captor says. ‘He never hurt me. And yet I was afraid of him. You used to beat me, but I never felt scared of you.’

Banished is another jewel in this collection by Jamila Hashmi. In this story set amidst the turbulent times of partition, Sitaji accepts the life with Ravan. Anandi by Ghulam Abbas shows how remote areas turn into magnificent suburbs. The Saga of Jaanki Raman Pandey is another masterpiece in this collection. This is a tale of Muslim junior wife of a Hindu and the walls that stand between them, the walls which are not pulled down even after his death.

A startling fact about this collection is that the stories sound very contemporary, even after years of their publication. In the Fable of a Severed Head by Sajid Rashid, a family is left with a tough choice, whether to admit that the head is of a family member, who the police say was a terrorist. The Vultures of Parsi Cemetery by Ali Imam Naqvi reflects how humanity is dying on the streets. The Tree by Tassaduq Sohail is about a tree which thinks there is nothing after death. I really liked this story for its treatment.

Ismat Chughtai’s Of Fists and Rubs is a hard hitting tale about botched up abortions carried out at home. Poignancy, disgust, anger, disbelief all this welled up inside my chest while reading this story.

Yes some of the stories are too prosaic and difficult to comprehend, yet they are outnumbered by stories which are literary marvels. I knew Urdu literature was rich. But this book told me that it is prosperous beyond my imagination. This book is surely not to be missed.

Tuesday, 29 August 2017

On India - Book Review

On India is a collection of writings by Khuswant Singh. It is edited by his daughter Mala Dayal. According to the editor though Khuswant Singh had said that he was not proud to be an Indian, his heart was clearly in India, specially in Delhi, which he gave seven reasons for loving. These seven reasons are featured in this collection. He has also written about the other three metros. His description of Mumbai made me throw up. He describes it as a filthy city and with almost no greenery. Yes, Delhi is greener but when it comes to squalor it is at par with Mumbai. Speaking of the change of name to Mumbai, he says no educated Indian calls it anything other than Bombay. Now this is a partisan view not supported by any research. I hail from a highly educated Maharashtrian family and all my relatives have always called it Mumbai. Not because of regional pride, but because it was simply Mumbai for them.

His write up about Madras is delightful, but his writing about Calcutta is cryptic. It shows his utter lack of interest in the city of joy. He is silent on change of name of these two cities for reasons best known to him.

His renditions of Guru Nanak’s Barah Mah are simply a delight. He takes digs at the VIP culture and the celebrity preachers who have cropped up in every religion.

Wounds of partition are evident in Khuswant Singh’s writings. He narrates in a poignant manner how Christians and Parsis painted their outer walls declaring their religion and Hindus and Sikhs were uprooted from their own homes. He speaks of Royalties who had a European as a junior wife. But she did not hail from any royal family. She was either a nurse, stenographer or a bar dancer. He writes how difficult it was for them to adjust to their newly exalted status.

His Sikh pride and allegiance towards the congress party is evident from his writings. He says ‘We have lost in Gujarat, we may lose in some other states and the fundoos may rule us while paying lip service to secularism – or not even that. But I still hope that revulsion against them will build up and they will eventually be thrown into the garbage can of history, where they belong. It is the duty of every sane Indian to put them there.

He writes about Hindu God men and yoga masters and writes about their internal rivalry.

He steps into the territory which caused lot of trouble to the celebrated author Perumal Murugan. He says : ‘Some Hindu communities preserve strange customs. The men among the Bishnois, a small group inhabiting a desert track west of Delhi, choose the fittest young man in the community and make him Gama Shah ka Sand – the stud bull of Gama Shah – their legendary hero. The stud bull’s main function is to impregnate wives of impotent or sterile Bishnois. When the men are at work in the fields, the stud visits the homes of the needy. His ornate pair of slippers left conspicuously on the threshold indicates that the housewife is busy.’

In spite of all the eccentricities and flaws this book is highly readable. The old Sardar never disappoints.

Monday, 28 August 2017

The Story of My Second Marriage


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Extraordinary Indians - Book Review


Extraordinary Indians is a collection of Khuswant Singh’s earlier published pieces. They have been culled out from his estate, after his death. So this book comes with a disclaimer that it is difficult to accurately source the name of the publication in which the pieces first appeared. That doesn’t make the book any less interesting.

The personalities in this book range from Gurunanak to Indira Gandhi and from Kabir to Protima Bedi. The book is divided into six sections – Politicians, Spiritual Leaders, Writers/Artists, Family and Friends and Others. Lal Krishna Advani and Sanjay Gandhi are listed under the section And Two Who Flattered To Deceive. Whether this heading is the handiwork of the author or the editor, we will perhaps never know.

The old Sardar was a living storm and even after his death he continues to ruffle a few feathers. The same is evident from the way he describes the cold, dry and detached attitude of Mother Teresa while tending to the sick. Speaking of Abdul Kalam he says, ‘However one hopes that like Atal Behari Vajpayee Kalam too will stop his little attempts at versification after he takes over as President of India.

Figures of history like Gurunanak, Kabir appear an oddity in this collection. But yet Khuswant Singh enlightens us on little known faucets of these gems. Speaking of fasting Roza he tells us that Ghalib wrote ‘I observe fasts, but keep my fasts well-humoured with occasional sips of water, and a few puffs of the hookah. Now and then I eat a few morsels of bread also. People here have a strange sense of things and a strange disposition. I am just whiling away the fast, but they accuse me of non-observance of this holy ritual. They should understand that skipping the fasts is one thing, and whiling them away is quite another.’ In the post on Mir Taqi Mir he tells us that at one time Urdu novelists and chroniclers used to have appendices to their works in which they included their favourite jokes which had nothing whatsoever to do with the themes of their books.

Speaking of Maulana Azad he says that about Samad he said, ‘He stood on the minaret of love from which the walls of kaba and the temple appeared of equal height.’ He tells how Mr. Azad was against the partition of the country. Rather he had sensed it was of the opinion that Muslims should never be at the forefront of the freedom movement. He tells us that though there were translations of the Holy Quran in numerous languages, Mr. Azad felt that it had complicated the otherwise simple word of the God and hence undertook the task of translation.

Khuswant’s Singh writing as usual is piquant and engaging. Whether you are fan of Khuswant Singh or not, you will immensely enjoy this book.

Thursday, 24 August 2017

The Story of My Second Marriage

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Unlawful Justice - Book Review

Vish Dhamija’s Unlawful Justice is divided into three parts. Vansh Diwan and his wife are advocates. Mahinder has a chequered background. Vansh deals all his cases and major chunk of his income is derived from Mahinder’s litigations. In part one Mahinder’s son Maheep rapes Vansh’s maid’s daughter and leaves her in a vegetative state. In part two Maheep is killed and the killer is unknown. Mahinder accuses Vansh’s help Gayatri as in an emotional outburst, she had vowed to kill Maheep. The third part is the criminal trial.

I really liked the twist in the second part. I was wondering where the novel will head when the rapist is revealed in the first few chapters. But with Maheep’s killing the author strikes a master stroke. You are riveted to your seats and read with great expectations. As a seasoned reader you know Gayatri hasn’t murdered Maheep. But then who is the culprit?

Unfortunately to know that you have undergo a few hiccups under the name of legal trial. And here the novel falters. The trial is unrealistic and mundane. For crimes like rape and murder no arrest warrant is required. Anticipatory bails are not granted by Magistrates and accused doesn’t have to prove anything in criminal trials. Unfortunately the author has got all these things wrong. For someone who claims to be master of legal crime and courtroom drama in India, these mistakes are unpardonable.

Speaking of the writing, the writer is verbose but not boring. He has spends too much ink to convey an idea which could be told in just a sentence. Yet, his writing kept me glued. This is his success as an author.

There are some books which you wont repent reading and wont repent not reading either. Unlawful Justice falls into that category. That sums up it all.

Saturday, 19 August 2017

The Story of My Second Marriage


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Pathshala Funwala


He sat amidst the squalor. His house, with asbestos sheets as its walls didn’t have any window. But the windows of his heart were always open. He wanted to learn and his mother encouraged him to do so. His house though small was no less than a museum. Drums of various sizes were properly arranged at the entrance. The plastic bottles were kept in a big net. The newspapers and magazines were the only things which were allowed inside the house not because they were special but they were likely to be damaged by rains or the dogs that fought for no reason in the night.

This is how his romance with the letters in the print started. He had been to a primary school where he learnt to read and write in Marathi. So he would pick up Marathi newspaper and magazine and read out the stories in it. His mother would stand akimbo and listen to him. He read about the Taj Mahal and the Marina beach and they visited both these places sitting on the words of print and using some imagination. Shankar’s reading had opened a new world to Gangubai. She had never heard these stories from anyone. The only stories she heard living in that ghetto were of women who were abused by their husbands and men who were drenched in liquor. His reading gave them a new purpose of life to both of them. They laughed together and tears voluntarily rolled down their eyes when they read a poignant tale.

Aai what if I could read those English magazines?’ Shankar asked one day. The English magazines always stood apart from their Marathi counterparts. Their pages were glossy and the men and women that featured in them appeared from another planet. Plus it contained pictures of foreign locations. ‘Wow, it would be indeed a great experience. I am all ears to hear those stories from English magazines. But will you please translate those stories for me in Marathi. You know I don’t know English.’ Gangubai told Shankar.
Aai where I know English?’ Shankar said and the dejected duo didn’t feel like reading anything that day.

Then one day Shankar’s eyes fell upon an advertisement in the newspaper. Just give a missed call on 8055667788 and learn English it said. Shankar borrowed his mother’s mobile phone. She worked as a domestic help and her employer had given her his old mobile phone so that he could contact her. Shankar called the number and life changed for good for both him and his mother. They never thought learning English was so easy. The first lesson they learnt over the phone from Shanti didi was when you meet you say Hi in English and when you leave you say Bye to each other. That day Shankar just stepped in and out of the house. The moment he entered he would say Gangubai Hi and before going out he would say Bye. Even Gangubai started exchanging Hi and Bye with him. Shanti didi kept on teaching them English over the phone. Shanti didi had turned English learning into a fun activity. Never before was learning English so easy for them. One step a day, they made considerable progress over a couple of months. Soon both of them began to read the English newspapers and magazines which they always wanted to read. Their joy knew no bounds. Who says only schools and colleges offer good education?

So if you have anyone around who wants to learn English please share this number 8055667788 and open the gateways to their learning.
I am blogging about Pathshala Funwala by Nihar Shanti Amla Oil in association with BlogAdda

Wednesday, 2 August 2017

Half Pants Full Pants - Book Review


With half pants full pants, Anand Supi transports us into the world of 1980s. He makes us revisit our childhood in small towns, when there were no gazettes and where time stretched endlessly like today’s TV serials. This isn’t a novel. But it is a collection of childhood memories. Slightly distorted, slightly incoherent, yet immensely enjoyable.

Today’s generation, which is born into abundance and where new things pour into the house at the click of the mouse, would never understand what a joy it was to buy a new mixer or TV set in the 1980s. It was a sort of celebration, for which the entire lane and all the family and friends gate crashed and the hosts happily absorbed them into their festivities like a sponge. Half pants full pants may help them imagine that world, which if not a global village, was a village family for sure.

The ten paise coins battered under the trains, the pee breaks, the rubber lizards, the early crude versions of reward points, Anand Supi gets everything right and gives the book some verisimilitude. If you are a child who grew in this time period read the book for it is nostalgic, if you are a child born in today’s digital world, read the book to know how was the childhood of your parents.

Thursday, 20 July 2017

My Hanuman Chalisa

There is not an Indian who hasn’t heard of Hanuman Chalisa, some may have recited them, but many are unaware of its deep underlying meaning which is obscured behind its Awadhi quatrains. Devdutt Pattanaik’s My Hanuman Chalisa is undoubtedly the most interesting take on it.

With stories drawn from the puranas, the tantras and the folklore Devdutt provides us a sumptuous read. The book is overflowing with interesting nuggets like in the Telgu Ramayana, despite knowing that Ravana’s life resided in his navel, Ram shot only at the head of Ravana as he was too proud a warrior to shoot below the neck and it was Hanuman who sucked air into his lungs and caused the wind to shift direction making Ram’s arrow turn and strike Ravana’s novel.

Connecting Hanuman with Shiva, the author says as the centuries passed the overtly masculine nature of Hanuman was toned down. Just as Shiva was domesticated by Shakti Hanuman’s gentle side is evoked by Sita. Since there can be no Shiva without Shakti may say that Shakti took the form of Hanuman’s tail and always accompanied him. According to the author at one time women were not allowed to worship Hanuman. But now that Shakti resides in his tail, they worship him.

According to the author by repeating the story or Ram again and again, Hanuman understands Ram, and discovers the Ram within him, the ability to be dependable for those who are dependent , even those who are unworthy, like the stream of hungry and frightened devotes who venerate him in his temples.

Beautiful drawings by the author adorn the pages of this book and makes the reading an enjoyable experience. At places the connections appear too far stretched, but that does not take away the tenuous research which the author has put in shaping this book. If you are a Devdutt Pattanaik fan, you must have lapped the book by now, and if you aren’t you will not repent reading this book.

Monday, 17 July 2017

The Return of Damayanti


Nisha Singh’s The Return of Damayanti is second book in the series featuring detective Bhrigu Mahesh and his friends Sutte.

Bhrigu Mahesh was once a police man. Now he is a private detective. Nataraj Bhakti is a retired clerk. He is haunted by the spirit of his dead wife. He seeks Bhrigu’s help. As Bhrigu investigates, the mystery deepens and takes a sinister turn. A woman is brutally murdered. Bhrigu has to find the killer or he will continue with his killing spree. 


So Bhrigu and Sutte storm into Bhakti’s house where there are numerous other colourful characters. Bhakti brother Chiranjeev, sister-in-law Premkala too pack away amongst the suspects. Then there is Savita, Bhakti’s younder sister. His eldest sister has breathed her last and her teenager son resides in the same house, in the village with a heavy name Krishna Dwar. Bhakti has announced a prize for hunting his wife’s killers. The police inspector is more interested in the prize and hence passes the information which he has gathered to Bhrigu, of course on the condition that the booty would be shared between the two. So who is the killer or is it really the ghost of his wife.

Though The Return of Damayanti is a part of the Bhrigu Mahesh Phd series, one can easily read this book without reading the first installment. It is a standalone novel. Also the author has paved for a sequel. She has tried to build a brand Bhrigu and Sutte. The Return of Damayanti falls into three parts. The first part wastes lot of ink in building the characters and the plot. Action steams in the second part, where thinks begin to move forward albeit they crawl and not run. The third part slowly unravels the culprit and his motives. There are enough twists and turns in this part, but by the time you reach there you are utterly enervated.

The author has come up with a flash file in the end of the book, where Bhrigu solves a nano case in a jiffy. Interesting way to hook the readers for sure.

Like most of the suspense novels The Return of Damayanti tracks on the hackneyed path. Even that would not have been a problem if it paced well. But it scrambles to reach the climax. The language is the biggest hindrance for the reader. Being too verbose it simply doesn’t click with the readers. It hurts because The Return of Damayanti has a soul, but it is crushed under too many descriptions and faces the pressure to fit into the format of other legendary sleuths. The authors tells a lot but shows very little.
 

The Return of Damayanti is like a bhel, which despite generous amounts of the right ingredients just doesn’t taste right. The writing is insipid and the story moves slow. But as they say pulp fiction is never out of fashion, even if ridden with cliches, not to forget the sidekick of the detective. So mystery fans may lap this book up. 


 
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Tuesday, 11 July 2017

A Song of Many Rivers


Writings of Ruskin Bond, the writer of the hills, are filled with love for the hills. Rivers flowing through the Himalayan glaciers are both intriguing and intimidating. No wonder Bond is not only in love with the hills but even the rivers that play on its laps. A Song of Many Rivers, is a compilation of the Bond’s river stories.

The sheer range of stories in this collection makes it damn interesting. Some of them fall under the category of travelogues. In the opening story A Song of Many Rivers introduces us to the Himalayan rivers. We know only of Ganga and Yamuna, but the writer also introduces us to their little known tributaries like Suswa. Sacred Shrines Along the Way takes us on the tour of the famous panch badris and panch kedars.

Wilson Bridge resurfaces in this collection. This was a bridge built by one British man called Wilson. He had married a local, who later committed suicide by jumping into the river from the very same bridge which Wilson had constructed. The stories surrounding this bridge have all the quintessential elements of Bond’s writings - setting amidst the nature and colonial period, eccentric Sahibs and guileless locales, a tinge of poignancy and traces of supernatural elements. Every piece in this book will be cherished by a Bond fan. The jewel of the crown is of course The Angry River. I have read this novella in another collection of Bond. But still it continues to enchant me. Combining tragedy and fantasy, thrill and helplessness amidst calamity, this story exhibits what a creative genius Bond is.

This collection is to be treasured by fans of Bond. I wish the typographical errors were avoided. Thought despite these errors Bond doesn’t disappoint.

The Empty House

Ruskin's Bond's stories are enchanting. They possess a unique combination of thrill, innocence, poignancy set in the picturesque Himalayan mountain towns and villages. His character sketches make you fall in love with them. Surprisingly supernatural occurrences too predominantly feature in his stories. So when he pick choses supernatural stories written by other authors it is treat for his readers, particularly for those who love supernaturals.

The Empty House is collection of such stories hand picked by the famous writer on the hills. In the title story The Empty House the writer's aunt calls him to explore the empty house which is said to be haunted. This story is the crest jewel of this collection. The way the writer creates thrill with every line with just two characters around is simply amazing. I haven't yet read any piece like this story before. Chuniya Ayah is the story of how the ghost of a young girl continues to haunt the Ayah responsible for her death.

The White Wolf of the Hartz Moutains is a long story with interesting twists and turns. It is a tragic tale of sorts, but will satisfy the loves of vampire genre. Mrs. Raeburn's Waxwork again is a nail biting thriller where the murderer enters the wax museum, were her own wax statue is kept. Did I mention that the murderer was executed to death for the gruesome act of hers, that too before her visit to the museum. Some Australian Ghosts contains nuggets of early ghosts in the Australia. Gone Fishing by Bond comes last in this collection. It has appeared in other collections of Bond and has all the quintessential elements of a Ruskin Bond story.

Though I thoroughly enjoyed these stories, the other stories are too verbose and difficult to understand.

All Ruskin Bond collections recently brought out by Rupa publications were ridden with typographical errors. Thankfully this time there aren't any. I am sure Bond fans would love to read the favourite stories of their favourite author.

Thursday, 29 June 2017

23 1/2 ways to Make a Girl Fall for You - Book Review

The blurb of 23 ½ Ways to Make a Girl Fall For You self confesses that it is the most incorrect piece of work ever written. It gives a disclaimer that very little of the information in the book will be useful for the male, obviously whose hormones are surging and whose brain is undoubtedly dysfunctional to make a woman woo.

If so is the case why should one read the book? For Cyrus Broacha of course. Read this book only, and only if you are a huge fan of Cyrus Broacha.

In this book Broacha plays the role of an agony aunt addressing queries of Indian men. Needless to say that both the queries and their answers segue into a graph which moves between being silly and idiotic. You may enjoy a page or two but thereafter you wont find anything funny. Of course Mr. Broacha has a huge fan following and may be his fans may enjoy this work of his.

Saturday, 22 April 2017

Sometimes it is better to QUIT

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The Story of My Half Girlfriend


Thank you so much for everything that you have done for me. Sometimes I wonder how my life would have been had you not been there.’ Soumya said keeping her hand over mine. Having known her for all these years, I knew she wasn’t lying. She indeed valued my presence in her life.
Don’t even mention it. I am always there for you. 365 days a week, 24X7’ I said placing my other hand over hers. That was when she pulled back her hand and said. ‘Thanks.’

Some relationships are like that. They don’t have any meaning. But do relationships require any meaning? Aren’t they way beautiful the way they are? Why do we want to compartmentalize them and give them formal names?

Attribute it to my conditioning or the social structure that I live in. I wanted to take things forward with Soumya. I liked her company and she liked being with me to. ‘You always inject a positive energy into me.’ She would say giving me a hug.

We would chat for long hours. Time slipped away but our chats did not stop. I longed to be with her. To hear her giggles and to see her smiles. I would call her almost every day. But she would agree to meet me only once or twice a week. She would come to meet me as and when she had any problems. She would take her heart out and I would listen to her. Listen to her without giving any advice. Then once she was done I would tell her a few jokes and she would laugh. I would share the latest school gossip with her and she would widen her eyes and say, ‘Oh, is it so?’ Once her mood was changed I would deal with her problem, albeit subtly. I would focus on the positive things of her life and that particular situations. Fiddling with her dupatta she would say, ‘I never thought this way.’ She would return home in a positive mood. Even her parents knew about it. So whenever she was feeling down, her mother would say, ‘Go and meet Raj.’

It would be so beautiful if we spend all our lives together.’ I said one day sensing her jovial mood.
Of course. We are friends and we will stay in touch.’ Gazing at the walls she said.
I went on to explain her that I wished to marry her. She didn’t react. She neither accepted my proposal nor did she turn me down. The status of our relationship was hanging somewhere in between.

She came to me only when she had some problem in my life. That gave me a feeling of being a doormat. I tried speaking to her a couple of times about my feelings, she said that the caste barrier that stood tall between us would never permit our union.

I passed out of the school and went to college of which she was not a part. The frequency of our contacts reduced and one day she married some other person. Her marriage has its own set of ups and downs. She calls me for guidance during the down phases and choses to ignore my calls saying ‘The baby was crying.’ But still she remains special in my heart. Sometimes I wonder would she have been happier if she was with me. But the answer is we never know how our lives would have been if we had taken some other decision. May be yes, may be no.

“I am sharing a Half relationship story at BlogAdda in association with #HalfGirlfriend