Life with Lemon Drops - book review

Life with Lemon Drops is a book of quotations by Radhanath Swami. The book has a quote accompanied by apt pictures on each page. In the words of the author lemon drops convey vitality and vigor representing the essence of holistic well being. A lemon contributes to a variety of tastes and flavours. When squeezed in a glass of water, lemon drops are immunity boosters and detoxify the body; sprinkled on a papaya, they create sweetness; over rice they give it a tangy taste and squeezed over hot milk they curdle it.

So the author says that a simple lemon drop can do many things including transformation of your life. The quotes are spread over variety of topics. The author has tried to squeeze the lemon on all the aspects of life and thereby enrich those aspects.

Some of the quotes from the book which I liked are as follows

“To the degree we have influence over others, the same degree we have responsibility towards them.”

“Everything we see is reflection of our own consciousness.”

“Spirituality is not about negation but transformation.”

and this one is the best

“We hear words, God hears intention.”

This small book is a perfect gift for all occasions.

Wisdom bartered for a Chicken Pizza

That day was anything but special. I was sitting alone in my home. My family was away for the wedding of my cousin. I too wanted to attend it. But I was having my exams. I persuaded my parents not to attend the same and stay with me during my examinations. But they were adamant. They had an explanation. According to them if you want to live in the society you will have to attend such functions. “Otherwise who would come for your wedding?” Asked my mother. I found this explanation to be utterly ridiculous. To add fuel to the fire my father told me that I was no longer a child and was a grown up adult who could take up his own responsibilities. I wanted to ask him why did he forget this fact when I asked him to take the car to my college. But I was seething with anger and left for the terrace. I thought that the cool air on the terrace would calm my hot head too.

I could hear the revving of the engine and knew my parents were away. I clambered down the stairs, locked the house and went out for a stroll. I thought the chicken pizza would lift my spirits. Since childhood all of us associate food with happiness and I was no exception. The eatery was crowded. There was not a single table empty. So out of compulsion I asked to pack my pizza as I wanted to eat it at home. 
 

While on my way home, I saw a woman sitting in front of her house. Her house was nothing but a shanty made up of tarpaulin sheets. She had kneaded the dove and was making the rotis. She did not have a rolling pin or a platform. Just slapping the dove in her two hands, she was rolling out big well rounded rotis. A ten-twelve years old girl was roasting those rotis on the earthen stove and placing the roasted rotis in a paper. There were twelve rotis already placed on the paper. 

Must be a big family I said to myself watching at the five children who were playing with the street dog. Out of them one was a toddler and was sitting in the lap of another girl who appeared to be his elder sister. The girl who was roasting the rotis was probably their eldest sibling.

It was five in the evening. It wasn't dark. I wondered why she was cooking so early. The curiosity coursing through me compelled me to ask her as to why she was cooking so early. She told me that her house did not have the electricity connection and she had to cook before it fell dark. Her husband would return after a day's hard labour and would get angry if the food wasn't ready.

At that moment I realized how fortunate I was. Something moved within me and made me handover the pizza which I was carrying to the woman. Seeing the fancy box in their mother's hands all her children assembled around her. They were asking for their share. But the woman was adamant. She told them that all of them would get to eat it only when their father had returned. That too from the leftovers of their father.

I returned home. I did not recollect when was the last time I had thought beyond my needs. I did not recollect when was the last time I had gifted something to my parents.  I did not realize when was the last time I had told them how much I loved them. I was too busy in thinking about myself. This little incident which had happened that evening was an eyeopener for me. I had learnt a new lesson which had filled my heart with immense happiness.

I realized that real happiness did not vest in throwing big parties, flaunting expensive gazettes or cars. Real happiness lies in being considerate and caring for your loved ones. From that day onwards my idea of happiness changed. Now whenever I am happy I share my happiness with the unfortunate souls.  Rather it is the other way round. Whenever I do something for others my heart is filled with joy. If I have money I buy sweets for the urchins. If I don't have money I gift them my used clothes. If I have neither I just go and play a game of football with them. Their radiating smiles makes every pore of my body dance in joy. Indeed real happiness lies in giving and whatever you give returns to you multiplied.

 

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Tea vendor who brews novels

What would you require to write twenty novels? Many many things. First you require a place of solitude where no none will ever disturb you. You and your muse can spend countless hours in each other's arms and let your feelings articulate into words.

Then if you are to write twenty novels your daily needs must be taken care of. So either your parents must have left you a fortune or your spouse must be both earning and understanding. (A combination which I doubt exists!)

Even if you have the aforesaid privileges you must have a never dying commitment. Writing twenty novels is not an easy feat for sure. It requires years of discipline. Plus there is risk of repetition. While writing twenty novels there is every likelihood that your writing becomes clitched.

Did I tell you that you are supposed to literally write these novels and not type them using your computer key board? Also these novels are to be written in a language which is not your mother tongue.

Did I hear you saying that is impossible? It has been made possible not by any university scholar but by a humble chaiwallah. (Indeed good days have come for our tea vendors) His name is Laxman Rao. He sells tea on the on the roads of the capital Delhi. He has written twenty novels in Hindi. What is more interesting is that his mother tongue in Marathi and not Hindi. He migrated from Maharashtra to Delhi and eventually settled down in Delhi. He published his first novel Nayi Duniya Ki Nayi Kahani in the 1970's. When several leading publishers either rejected his manuscripts or asked for money to publish it, he decided to go on the self publishing route. 

Don't look down upon him merely because he has self published his books. First edition of his two books is already over and he has brought out the second edition. Due to paucity of funds he publishes his books in small lots of 1000 or 2000. But any published author knows how difficult it is to even sell a thousand copies of a book. This so called rustic man has already sold those many copies and has brought out the second edition of his books. His novel Ramdas has been turned into a drama script and was staged at Shriram Centre in New Delhi.

No writing luxuries and no writer's block for this great achiever. His humble background did not come as a hurdle on the way which lead to realizing his dreams. He is indeed a role model for all those who dream of writing a book but are never able to go beyond a few lines.

“I’m voting for Laxman Rao’s #WillOfSteel and blogging on BlogAdda to help him get felicitated and eventually enabled by JSW." 

 

The Rice Saver

India has been a store house of wisdom for many many years. We Indians have regarded everything in this universe as divine. As a result we respected every shrub and tree and used it for medicinal purposes. India has been a home to numerous varieties of grains particularly rice. Rice is the staple food of majority of Indians. Rice grains were even found in the Mohenjodaro and Harrapa excavations. Such long goes the association of we Indians with rice.

However the British ruled us for many decades and inculcated in us the colonial mindset. All that was native was bad and evil. All that was foreign particularly European was good and healthy. This mindset even took a toll on our indigenous grain varieties. Everybody wanted to go for the high yielding hybrid and other genetically mutilated crop varieties. As a result with the introduction of the high yielding varieties our native varieties began to become extinct.

Before selling the agricultural produce particularly the grains in the market, the Indian farmers kept a part of it for their personal consumption and a part to sow in the following year. But now with the craze of new crop varieties the Indian farmers did not have the option to store a part of their crops for the next sowing season. They are required to purchase the same from the companies which manufacture them. That is because you cannot sow the seeds derived from the harvest of hybrid varieties

Plus there is another aspect of this problem as well. The indigenous varieties are better suited to our climate. They form an important part of the food chain. Many insects and other organisms thrive upon them. But the new varieties are repellent to these insects. As a result along with our traditional crop varieties even these insects are being wiped out of the environment. This is very dangerous because if these varieties and the organisms dependent upon them become extinct there will be an imbalance in the biosphere and slowly even the very existence of humans will be in peril.

This is why the work of Dr Debal Deb assumes importance. He is an ecologist highly committed to conserve indigenous seed diversity. He has been working with traditional farmers in eastern India to achieve his goal of conservation. Dr Debal Deb has saved 920 varieties of rice in the past two decades. He has stored all of them in community based seed banks in West Bengal and Odisha for farmers. He encourages our farmers to use the traditional varieties of rice, thereby paving way for their conservation. In his own words he battles with "developmentality", a mental "virus" of the modern world which has produced a collective mindlessness in India's elite and led to the crisis.

Indeed it would not be wrong to say that Dr. Debal Deb is working hard to not only save the rice seeds but the very human life. Because these indigenous varieties have an important role to play in the ecological cycle. If they get wiped out from the biosphere that day is not far off when even we humans, the most intelligent organisms, will become extinct. Isn't that a good reason to felicitate Dr Debal Deb?

“I’m voting for Dr. Debal Deb’s #WillOfSteel and blogging on BlogAdda to help him get felicitated and eventually enabled by JSW." 

Dream with your eyes open - book review

Dream with your eyes open is a book on entrepreneurship. According to the author this book is for all – those carrying just the disruptive (yes disruptive is the author's favourite word and not innovative) ideas, those who have been in the business for a many years and even those who are planning to give up their jobs and start their own dream project.

The author respects failures more than the success for the insights the former offers He stresses on the mindset required to be an entrepreneur when he says that it's a journey, not an outing. He says going ahead in your own business with an idea to just try it for a year or two is sure recipe for disaster.

What I liked about the book is the candidness with which the author speaks about his success, failure and most importantly the whole process which led to those outcomes. He mentions his first step into entrepreneurship – Lazer brush, which he had set up by importing discarded British machines which still were cutting edge technology in India. He advises newbies to take the first step instead of wasting endless time in research. The writer divulges his experience of being a forerunner in the cable TV business. He describes in detail the efforts made to introduce the Indian TV viewers to cable TV. He narrates how he was much ahead of time when he introduced home shopping in India and the same became a cause of its failure. He underlines the insider-outsider dynamics in the Indian movie industry when he shares the evolution of the brand UTV.

With new age quotes like I am too busy working on my own grass to notice if your is greener, the book becomes an interesting read. If everyone is thinking alike then somebody is not thinking comes another hilarious yet honest quote from George Patton. which finds a mention in the book. Along with the difficulties faced by the entrepreneurs which include finding funding, managing exits and attrition, the author emphasizes the need for core values like mutual respect in communication. The author asks us never to underestimate the power of humour as laughter makes life's darkest events conquerable. The author cautions the would be entrepreneurs to believe in their dreams by telling them that they and only they know its direction and velocity. He says entrepreneurship is a lot like life; sometimes just asking the right questions presents you with half the solutions.

The author says that insulating yourself against failure doesn't ensure success, it only makes success more elusive. He also discusses the much sought after ingredient – luck. Luck according to him is nothing but creating your own environment and then taking the advantage of the opportunity. How true! He says outcome is direct proportion of risk and effort. Business and life cannot be planned with certainty. Hence the caution to dream with your eyes open.

Throughout the book in his own words the author has discussed foolish mistakes, setbacks, missed opportunities and lessons learnt over the years. The book will indeed be of help to those who dream of becoming an entrepreneur. 

However that does not mean that the book is free from any flaws. The biggest flaw in the book is that the author has not arranged his experiences in chronological order. So in a former chapter his daughter is born and in the subsequent he meets his would be wife. Similarly first comes the premiere of Dev D and then that of Devdas. The book is replete with such chronological disorders. This creates confusion and mars the narrative. The book deserved a better editing. Had it been chronologically arranged its impact would have increased by manyfolds.

City of Spies - Book Review

The Indian novel scene can be divided into three major genres thrillers (Dan Brown inspired), college romance (Chetan Bhagat inspired) and mythological (Ameesh Tripathi inspired). It is against this hackneyed backdrop comes City of Spies like a fresh cool breeze in the month of summer. (Yes the publisher being Indian I chose to count it amongst the Indian novels)

Set in the tumultuous times of Pakistan City of Spies is written in the first person from the view point of Aleeya an adolescent girl. The novel has a background of the ouster of the Prime Minister and the usurpation of power by the tyrannical ruler. An ardent fan of the Prime Minister and son of the servant of our protagonist dies in a hit and run accident.

Adults think that children know nothing about their best kept secrets. In the case in hand the well kept secret is the driver of the vehicle which had hit the young boy. But children do perceive what is happening around them with their own little understandings. But they seldom understand it fully. They try their best to search those missing links. Aleeya is one such girl. Her questions remain with her even as she transforms into an adult. Finally she receives her answers that too from the very mouth of the horse. City of Spies is her journey towards those answers.

The author wonderfully articulates the difficult years of our neighboring country. They mesh up with the story without hindering it, without overshadowing it and at the same time have a personality of their own. The novel reinstates that the political upheaval in a country affects even its children including poorest of them.

The novel gives a gratifying experience of reading something really different. There is no suspense surrounding the killings. There is no any revenge saga. All that remains is how each one of us has his or her own perspectives and how the father of the deceased respects the same. The novel is highly recommended particularly for those who are fed up of reading the novels falling in the genres mentioned at the beginning.

Having said that let me point out that on page 66 of the novel tyres is misspelt as tires. I even found the title of the novel City of Spies inappropriate. It some how does not summarize the story aptly and makes the reader to conjure up his own expectations which are likely to remain unfulfilled.

The last fruit

I love mangoes. I eagerly wait for the arrival of the mango season. First come the green raw mangoes. Though I don't like them much I love seeing them. For they announce that the juicy, sweet mangoes which I like will arrive soon. From the moment of the first arrival of the ripe mangoes into the market upto their disappearance as a result of the monsoon rains, I buy mangoes regularly. They say that you should not eat mangoes once it rains. But still my love for the mangoes compels me to store them (as many as possible) into the fridge and relish them for a few days even after they have vanished from the markets.

Even after eating hundreds of mangoes my love for the king of the fruits doesnot seem to end. I simply love eating them. I remember that June so vividly. My mangoes had disappeared from the market and were on the verge of disappearance from my refridgerator too. Only one mango was left in the refridgerator. I was unhappy that my last fruit will get over soon and I will have to wait for the next season for my beloved fruit to arrive.

Rhea entered my house. She was my neighbour's cute four years old daughter. Curious as always she went on to raid my house. Whenever she came to my house her parents would instruct her not to touch anything. Needless to say that it fell on her deaf ears. Considering her age even I was fine with her exploring my house provided she did not touch the knives, scissors and the medicines.

So that day her area of operation was my kitchen. She ran towards the kitchen. She opened my fridge and said “Even we have a fridge. But it is red in colour.”

“Mango,” she exclaimed with joy in her voice which was palpable. Besides mango there were guavas, strawberries and few chocolates too in the fridge. I just wished that she chose one of those. I simply told her that my fridge was stocked with guavas, strawberries and chocolates as well. But she did not even see them.

“I want mango” she said. I was in a dilemma. She was a child. I could have easily handed over a chocolate and she would have forgotten about the mango in the next few minutes. As adults we manipulate our children many a times, don't we? I wanted to eat the last fruit of the season. I could have easily bartered it for many other delicacies which were instored in the fridge.

At that time my eyes fell on her innocent face. Her round face was beaming with excitement. When she will grow up she lose all of it and become a civilized citizen  adept in the art of hiding her emotions and of course would never open the fridge in her neighbour's house. That day I saw God in her. What is more important than being truthful to your emotions? As adults why do we teach our children to be treacherous under the garb of being diplomatic? We all are hypocrats!

I washed the mango and handed over the same to her. It was too big for her tiny palms. But still she held it tightly and began to squeeze the juicy pulp into her mouth. The yellow juice smeared her face and and her frock. It had smeared my heart too, with honesty, innocence and the joy of giving. 

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