Since the declaration of Coronavirus (Covid 19) pandemic, I have been mostly working from home. Since a majority of my work is done on my laptop, it somehow did not feel all that different. But stray thoughts kept coming to me. Fears for personal safety and safety of family members with health conditions. I call them compulsively to make sure they are following precautions. I worry about handwash, soaps, sanitizers, and medicines disappearing from the shops. I compulsively refresh the Facebook feed, where I follow a host of news outlets who keep updating the latest information- facts and figures from all over the world. These numbers are slowly and surely creeping up close to my geographical location and those of my loved ones. Insidiously it seems. And endless WhatsApp forwarded messages- some fake and some true.

I often think wistfully about past travel experiences now. My husband and I love traveling to new places each year mostly within India and re-visit some favorite ones throughout the year. I fear that travel will be severely restricted in future. 

It is one of those activities that fill me with so much pleasure and joy that it is physically suffocating to think that it may be curtailed significantly in the near future. I did realize that I was extremely lucky to plan and travel for the past several years. I never took it for granted even then. Even the most seemingly mundane trip within the same town or city has excited me since forever it seems. Does it have to do something with the itinerant part of my early childhood in an army family, traversing the Indian subcontinent in the swaying trains...sleeping on the top berth, hearing the coolies and vendors at night time...and surreptitiously eavesdropping on a neighbor's conversations before ultimately befriending the entire family...every one sitting close to each other.

I wonder how India can manage social distancing where people often live and work closely- cheek to jowl; where almost everything can be easily experienced, except solitude. Some people show the usual fatalistic attitude by saying, 'what has to happen will happen'. Others rush to scold them to say that they are endangering others. 

Amidst these dire conversations, my mind floats to some of the scenes from our annual trip---a small isolated restaurant en route to Jaisalmer in Pokhran (the site for the first nuclear tests in India) where our car broke down and we are served by a friendly, smiling short person andwe taste cashew-laden ker saangri for the first time on a pleasantly sunny December afternoon. Ker Saangri is made of dried berries and is a suitable delicacy for a desert state. And to top it we are served the most delicious milky tea (chai). We get to know that the owners of the place are Muslims and in our travel experience in India, they make the best tea. So, we order it twice which delights our cherubic waiter.  Being chai aficionados, our most delicious experiences have been in the state of  Gujarat so far, where we attribute it to the smooth and flavourful milk there.

Another scene - Arriving in Bidar Fort (north Karnataka) near sunset and racing to see the wide expanse of it  and engaging in some brilliant photography and then to a nearby Sufi shrine, where women are not allowed to enter but huddle together in black robes outside at the door praying fervently, as men enter with insouciance.

All the irritations experienced in these trips seem so rosy now. The painful throat infection at the end of the Rajasthan trip; the arguments with the driver; the extreme chill in the air as we trudge up the steep hills in Shimla on a December day (this was part pleasure and part pain).

There are a lot of immediate worries related to the pandemic, but this curtailing of future travel seems claustrophobic and evokes in me sadness and a loss of control. I assuage my fears by watching travel documentaries on the TV. Seeing elephants at Jim Corbett Park on a TV channel yesterday buoyed my spirits briefly.

The aftermath of this pandemic may be catastrophic for the economy with no room or budget to plan for traveling. But I will continue to hope and plan the next one at least in my mind to begin with. However, hackneyed it may sound, the current state of affairs will make the already-so-gorgeous activity of traveling in future even more delightful. So delightful that the heart can barely contain itself.

I think about these things with some guilt. It also feels frivolous as the more immediate need is to ensure that people are not affected by the virus and things can go back to normal or what was normal earlier. But when will that happen? Uncertainty prevails.

Bhopal

December 22, 2019

We landed at Bhopal airport around 3:45 pm. When the plane started the descent for the airport, I was thrilled to see a huge expanse of water just close to the landing strip. I would learn later that Bhopal is also called 'Jheelon ka sheher' or 'City of Lakes'. There are so many of them. And they are big ones. We were told that earlier some of these lakes were dried up last year because of scarce rains in the past few years. There was a lot of rainfall this year and all the lakes were filled up. Lucky for us!

As soon as we came out of the airport, I was again pleasantly surprised to see mountains in the distance. One of them had an imposing building that was awash in the setting winter sun colours and another mountain had a temple-like structure at the top. The driver told us that the former was a CRPF building and the latter a 'pracheen' (ancient) Jain temple. I felt exhilarated. This is pure joy. The start of a trip. Top of the world feeling!

Impressions of Bhopal - December 22 & 23, 2019

Pinkish evening skies. Lakes bordering the roads. 

Tajul Masjid in the evening. Aesthetically lit domes and minarets of masjid where the men were rushing for their evening prayers. An older woman clad in black burkha pleaded for some alms outside the masjid. A few 'non-believers' like us tentatively circled the water tank and expansive courtyard. I was relieved to see another woman in the distance; relief at not flouting any law of the place. The streets leading to this largest mosque in India (and among the largest in Asia) had ancient looking soulful buildings and security forces installed at multiple places. The driver said that the security is always prevalent near 'their' prayers as 'they' get together and riots can happen any time. (Probably) bigoted driver.

The large lakes with a statue of Raja Bhoj in it. Boats bobbing in the waters. Speed boats and cruises are also there. Families cluster around the lakes. We take a long walk along the periphery of the lake the first night of our trip. Groups of teenage boys in a photography frenzy. Many in a selfie frenzy. Another group is probably making Tik-Tok videos as they make exaggerated postures for the 'cameraman' and giggle shyly when we see them. 

The next evening we see the open zoological park (Van Vihar National Park), which has barricades for the big cats (tigers and leopards), bears, alligators, and turtles while the other less-ferocious and less-mobile animals have the freedom to go anywhere. The big cats move around lethargically as humans run around the barricade frantically searching for them laughing nervously. The unique thing of this park is that almost all of it is facing the big lake. So a tiger who climbs up a hill in his large enclosure can have a view of the waters. I remark that at least the animals may not be depressed here as they can see the lake unlike the other zoos. 

Mini-reviews from 2017

1. Serious Men – Manu Joseph

This is an engaging read. The novel is primarily from the viewpoint of a Dalit protagonist working in clerical position in a premier research institute in Mumbai and how he tries to fool/subvert the hierarchy and promote his son as a prodigy.

Some funny invented quotes from this book:

“If ancient Indians were really the first to calculate the distance between the Earth and the Moon, why is it that they were not the first to land there? I look at the great claims of old civilizations that they have done this and that with great suspicion” – Neil Armstrong

“Reservations for the low castes in colleges is a very unfair system. To compensate, let us offer the Brahmins the right to be treated as animals for 3000 years and at the end of it let’s give them a 15 per cent reservation”—Vallumpuri John

“It is a myth that Sanskrit is the best language for writing computer code. Patriotic Indians have spread this lie for many tears” – Bill Gates

“If you want to understand India, don’t talk to Indians who speak in English.” – Salman Rushdie

Recommended? Yes, for the inter-caste dynamics and strong character development.

2. Interpretation of Murder – Jed Rubenfeld

It is a psychological thriller set in early 20^th century New York with real life characters, including Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung. It was riveting to begin with but did not leave any major lasting impression. What I did like about this book was the early 20^th century description of New York City, building of skyscrapers, and the upper-class society shenanigans, and linking Freud’s psychodynamic theory to the thoughts and behavior of the main female character, Nora Acton. It becomes weary reading in the last 40 pages or so. Jung’s character and his tussle with Freud is another novelty in this book. Jung was apparently anti-semitic (?!). The end is shocking when the killer’s identity is revealed, but it is still not satisfying. I may have outgrown this genre altogether.  

Side note: Rubenfeld is the husband of Amy Chua, the famous author of Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mom, who became quite a rage in the parenting field.

Recommended? Only in two cases: 1.You are a student of psychology and want to know more about Freud’s theory in action; or 2. You have nothing more substantial to read.

3. Magic Seeds – VS Naipaul

My first full Naipaul fiction. He is astute in his observations of human nature. Somewhat negative (pessimistic) in his opinions about human thoughts and behavior. The main character, Willie’s thoughts are mentioned more than his words. There is a certain despondency in the main characters, Willie and his sister Sarojini, and Willie’s friend, Roger. Willie and to a certain extent, Sarojini, seem to lack agency and are mostly drifting in and out of extreme situations (sometimes of poverty and relative luxury) without influencing their sense of well-being in any extreme way. This fits well with the affective forecasting bias demonstrated in cognitive psychology. This bias basically states that our happiness is not dramatically altered over the long run, even if we run into great fortune or extreme misfortune on either ends of the spectrum. Or we overestimate the emotional impact of a future event in intensity and duration.

Naipaul always places his characters and plots in a particular historical context, which makes it believable and honest. There is not a single false note in his work. So the almost fatalistic perspective of Willie and Sarojini may fit in well with Naipaul’s understanding of Indian thought. His description of Willie’s first few days in India after a long time is stellar, where every activity seems like a struggle, compared to the smooth flow of things in an organized society like Germany. All of his characters feel foolish at several points of their stories. It may be a universal theme he subscribes to.

He is often witty. Page 286- ‘Roger said, “We are meant to dance through the night. No, not through. That sounds too much like hard labour. We are meant to dance away the night.”’

Some parts I liked, either for their profoundness or wit or both:

‘I never wanted to die full of hate and rage, like my father. I wanted to go like Van Gogh, as I have told you. Smoking my pipe, or doing the equivalent of that. Contemplating my art, or my life, since I have no art, and feeling hatred for no one. I wonder if I’ll have the courage or the strength of the great man. Already I begin to feel, as yet in a small way, the great solace of hate.’- p. 282.

‘It is wrong to have an ideal view of the world. That’s where the mischief starts. That’s where everything starts unraveling. But I can’t write to Sarojini about that.’ – p. 294.

‘..I think I should get some undemanding little job somewhere and live in some little flat somewhere and hope that the neighbors are not too noisy. But I know enough now to understand that life can never be simplified like that, and there would be some little trap or flaw in that dream of simplicity, of just letting one’s life pass by, of treating one’s life only as a way of passing the time.’ – p. 285.

Recommended? Highly.

Book Review- The Non-Conformist

Title of book: The Non-Conformist: Memories of my Father, Balraj Sahni

Author: Parikshat Sahni

Date of Review: November 17, 2019

This is a direct and honest account by Parikshat Sahni. It gets a tad repetitive at times. A very loving picture of Balraj Sahni is created by his son, Parikshat.
Balraj’s main tenet was that you cannot be a good actor unless you are a good person.
His method acting style and hard work is emphasized. He studied Stanislavski method style extensively. Their family was quite erudite and intellectual with Balraj’s brother Bhisham Sahni being a prolific writer as well.  
Balraj’s love of his native language Punjabi and his tussle with his brother about the need to write in one’s native language is quite heartening in a way and possibly ironic since I read extensively in a non-native language only.

There were some revelations in this book for me about Balraj Sahni.
 Balraj was a die-hard socialist who acquired this world view during his trip and stay in London. He hated the Brits with a passion. Also the superficial wannabes in India who mimicked the Brits after independence. In one of the funnier accounts, he insisted on speaking only in Punjabi with these snobs and adopted mannerisms of a typical villager to make them more uncomfortable in a soiree he attended in Delhi.

He admired Russians immensely. Their communism as well as their literature. He sent Parikshat to study there for some years and the latter learnt Russian in 7-8 months and was extremely fluent in it. Parikshat identified more with the Russians and felt like an outsider when he returned to India.

Balraj was extremely fond of his fellow Punjabis, including truck drivers and waiters he met. I also was surprised to know about his friendship with Giani Zail Singh, who I always thought was dim-witted but this was not true according to the Sahnis. He was not sophisticated but quite astute and far-sighted in their account. This was demonstrated in his questions for the Russians who kept boasting about their system during their visit together (GZS, BS & PS). Zail Singh asked the Russian officials a lot of tough and uncomfortable questions, including their repressive methods and their famous prison for dissenters.

Balraj was heartbroken by his daughter's untimely death. He sought refuge in spirituality and extensively read Guru Granth Sahib near the end of his life. Interestingly Gurudev (Tagore) who encouraged him to write in his native language Punjabi had read Bulleh Shah and significant amount of Guru Granth Sahib. Gurudev told Balraj that Punjabi has a rich literary tradition and he must write in it. Balraj's Punjabi writings, though not as prolific as his brother Bhisham’s in Hindi, were quite acclaimed and are still used as text books at Panjab University.

Balraj was very physically active. Besides swimming in the sea almost every day near their beach side house in Bombay, he trekked mountains in Kashmir and skinny-dipped in freezing waters. He loved traveling extensively. The Kashmir Valley was a perennial favorite for them. Parikshat describes the great love the local populace had for his father.

Like all actors, Balraj was vain according to his son. He was quite handsome and did not like it when beautiful women did not pay attention to him. He was also fascinated with white women (as much as he hated white men, especially Brits but not the Russians apparently) and Parikshat suspects that that was one of the main motivations for him to go to London right after his own birth.

Balraj would devote a significant period of his time with the proletariat (working class people) even after achieving fame - e.g. slums, befriended fishermen (went for days for fishing far into the seas)..And no one knew about it.
He loved writing and would prefer to spend a lot of time on his typewriter, which he carried everywhere, even on long travels. 

My note: I have admired Balraj Sahni as an actor from the very first time I saw him in movies like Lajwanti and Sujata. He radiated gentleness, warmth, honesty, sensitivity, and beauty to me. This memoir was heartening in the sense that it did not shatter my perception of him. Parikshat has given an honest account as he also pointed his father's follies and contradictions. And as always it gives an insight into those times in India, after Independence and till 70s. The idealism and hope people nurtured for the country.

Recommended? I recommend this book for people interested in memoirs, as I tend to gravitate to. I would like to read Balraj Sahni’s autobiography’s English translation of ‘Meri Filmi Aatmakatha’ as well as the other two books, ‘Mera Pakistani Safarnama’ and ‘Mera Rusi Safarnama.’ He had a rich and interesting life as an artist and writer and had ideals unlike the current breed of sycophants in the movie industry in India.

Book review - Celestial Bodies

Title of book: Celestial Bodies

Author: Jokha Alharthi

Date of Review: November 17, 2019

I got this book second hand from the ‘Bookworm’, a book store on Church Street in Bangalore. When I was picking out the books, another customer (probably American judging from his accent and openness) said to me, "This is a great book. I just read it.” He repeated it a couple of times. I said thanks. I do want to read this one.

This was originally written in Arabic and translated by Marilyn Booth. They won the Booker prize together for this work. It is believed to be the first book from an Omani author that has gained recognition around the world. I got to know several things about Oman’s history and culture. As has been often mentioned with respect to this book, slavery was prevalent there till the 1970s and several characters in this book are slaves or closely related to them. The book revolves around three families and their family tree is given at the start of the book. I had to keep referring to this family tree repeatedly to make sense of the relations. The chapters are short but still encapsulate the context and feelings quite intensely. I found the writing very skillful and concise.

One of the main families in this book has three daughters- Mayya, Asma, and Khawla. My favorite chapters are the one written by Abdallah, who is the husband of Mayya. He describes his father (Sulayman the merchant who kept a lot of slaves), who has terrorized him in his childhood, hanging him upside down in a well once when he disobeyed him, his foster mother (Zarifa, the slave), and his wife, Mayya. There is perennial longing in his voice. He is intensely attached to his father and lives in terror of the latter’s demise for six years when he falls ill and finds no relief when he passes away even as he expected to. He longs intensely for the love of his wife, who is indifferent to him. Some of Abdallah’s observations are astute. He describes beautifully the laughter of his wife when he asks her if she loves him. “Loud enough to shatter every wall in the new house.  Her laughter..the children fled from it” (p. 12). In another chapter, he says that the intelligence of a person can be guessed from the type of their smile. “His blue eyes gave nothing away but his smile seemed promising. Before getting to know him I would never have imagined that a person’s smile could reveal his intelligence but Bill’s smile gave form to a shrewd mind” (p. 153). I never thought of this before. I could just read Abdallah’s chapters again. His inner life is provided with a lot of detail especially since he is the only one narrating it. Others are in third person and therefore always a bit distant. Mayya’s father Azzan is a romantic figure who recites poetry and is intensely involved with an independent Bedouin woman called Qamar (the moon in Arabic/Urdu- reminded me of the Rahat Fateh Ali Khan…mere rashke qamar).

Mayya is initially shown intensely (and quietly) longing for just the sight of a man she has met briefly. Soon after, a proposal of marriage comes from Abdallah. There is no overt force but she agrees to marry him. She seems to have suppressed her feelings after her marriage. She is extremely quiet. Prefers silences to conversations. She also loves sleeping most of the time. I sense that she may be depressed. One of their sons has autism, which is devastating for her. There are several characters in this book who are suffering from mental health issues, including psychosis, depression, and kleptomania.

One of the major themes of this book is the suppression of women and the timid men (mainly Abdallah). They have practically no agency most of the time, though Khawla refuses to marry one of the guys and is not forced by her father, Azzan. The women slaves are especially treated abominably by their owners and their sons. One of these women gives birth to a girl and does not know who the father is since there are three men in that household who have been abusing her. She says it could be either one of them. She is the one who is given the lashings, according to the sharia. Mayya’s mother Salima and her siblings are forced to live with her wealthy and influential paternal uncle and not her mother and maternal uncle, when she loses her father because they are considered the father’s side property. Salima remembers her childhood with intense hunger, since she is always aware of her aunt’s eyes on her and cannot dare to eat to her heart’s content. She is better off than the slaves in their households but she even envies them with their free laughter and movement.

There are several memorable parts of this book which leave an impression. Ultimately it is mix of the cultural and historical influences (slavery and the changing times) and universal themes of patriarchy, love, loss and longing.

Recommended? I highly recommend this book. I continue to think about the characters and they evoked sympathy. It is a short book but Jokha Alharthi managed to convey a lot of emotions (love, hate, jealousy, pride and more), history, and subtle interactions in few words which are insightful and evocative.

Book Review- The Translator

Title of book: The Translator

Author: Leila Aboulela

Date of Review: June 23, 2019

I got this book from Stephanie Schechner (Professor of French, Widener U) in April 2019 when I visited Widener and she was giving away her books. I got quite a few, including poetry by Keats, translations of Dhammapada and Upanishads, and more for Neeru..

I picked this book as the author is from Sudan and I am usually interested in reading work by authors from countries I have never been exposed to. It gives me insight into their culture and thoughts and it is fascinating. I also like Muslim writers, including Naguib Mahfouz. Though Mahfouz’s work was translated from Arabic into English and something must be lost in translation. This book is written in English by Aboulela and it is her first novel. J.M. Coetzee wrote about this book, “A story of love and faith all the more moving for the restraint with which it is written.” There is restraint in the writing.

This book is about Sammar (the eponymous translator) who works in a university in Aberdeen as a translator of Arabic text into English for a professor, Rae Isles. Rae is an expert in Middle-East studies and has done extensive research on Islam. She is a Sudanese widow, whose husband (a cousin and childhood sweetheart) dies in an accident in Aberdeen where they came for his medical residency. She has a son Amir who she leaves with his grandmother and mother-in-law in Khartoum, while she returns to Aberdeen to escape the wrath of her mother-in-law who is angered by Sammar’s thoughts of remarrying a much older man and becoming his third wife. Sammar and Rae slowly fall in love and it is expressed beautifully and with restraint, mainly from Sammar’s point of view. But the major hurdle is her inability to go beyond the fact that he is not a Muslim. She is an observant and devout follower, who practices her faith with such diligence at all times.

Aboulela describes the accentuation of Sammar’s depression in the cold, grey climate of Aberdeen as she yearns for the intense sun and heat of Khartoum. Sammar is somewhat a prototype of a Muslim woman. She is demure and shy and is usually measuring her words and environment. Not expressing her anger even though she has intense emotions about certain things. She craves the state of marriage and envies people who are married, especially after her widowhood even as she does not miss her husband per se. She is ready to marry a much older man for the safety of a marriage, even though people are shocked around them. Not a feminist heroine for sure. So however unfair it may sound, I found hard to sympathize with her. And the major issue for me is her insistence on Rae’s conversion to Islam for them to marry. She is not seeking to work or have an identity of her own. So she is not at all inspiring. Characters do not have to inspire always but certain mindsets put me off.

I found the description of Khartoum interesting. It has the issues of developing countries, with electricity cuts, scarcity of employment, and increased urbanization and loss of spaces. It is mentioned at least twice how they would all sleep on the rooftops or in the gardens during hot summer nights but with building of apartments, it is no longer possible.

Aboulela’s writing style flows smoothly from streets of Aberdeen to Cairo to Khartoum, and within the recesses of Sammar’s memories. One surprising thing is the indifference of Sammar for her son, Amir. She even yells at him right after her husband’s death at seeing him play, “why didn’t you die instead of Tarig [her husband]…you are easily replaceable”. She repairs her relationship with him later. The family dynamics in Khartoum are described well. People say the meanest things to each other sometimes in frustration, and then in at least one case, their relationship improves and mellows right after these incidents, contrary to expectation.

There were several descriptions about Islam (and Hadiths) with emphasis on The Truth and how others (non-Muslims) need to realize it. There is a moving paragraph (pg 63) where a character who loses his infant son is comforted by his friends. “The children who die will intercede for their parents. They will stand at the gates of Paradise and refuse to go in without their mothers and father, cry out wanting them, and Allah will grant them their wish.”

Recommended? Yes. It is the first time I read a writer from Sudan and it gave me a peek into their life. There are a lot of similarities with the other eastern countries, and something I have read earlier as well.

Raavan

Raavan

I saw the movie Raavan today a few hours ago. The cinematography is beautiful, vivid and awe-inspiring...the rain-drenched, lush and verdant locales...from forests of Karnataka, Kerala, MP...It is an unforgettable visual experience.
And then the story...inspired by the epic Ramayana, it has Abhishek, Aishwarya and Vikram in the lead...and a personal vendetta...a theme explored multiple times in Hindi cinema. What was totally absent - any chemistry between Aishwarya and Abhishek or Vikram. This can only be explained by the extremely limited acting skills of Aish..She is stagey at best. The sequence where she is teaching kids classical dance is a good demonstration of her work...articulated in a single word- affected (meaning here: speaking or behaving in an artificial way to make an impression).
Where every emotion, every expression seems like an effort...nothing is spontaneous.
And this is where the film falters...for I cannot imagine investing myself in any movie where there is so little chemistry between the actors...I simply stop caring.

To give you an example of a not-so-good movie where the actors are either so faultless or good in that particular case that I cared earnestly about the outcome.
Fanaa had 2 actors par excellance...yes, the movie was ridiculed for its plot amongst several other things...but they just nailed the chemistry...and that was enough. Other examples include Veer Zaara and even Ashoka.

Dil Se was another disappointment...I have a feeling Mani Rathnam might also be at fault...he has grand ideas I admire...but something vital is amiss...I think that the movie Raavanan (Tamil version) is better than this one...of course the lead heroine is still the same..so a major limitation because the movie revolves around her.

Vikram lent intensity to the movie...Abhishek was adequate. He has improved..though his character of Beera (an outlaw with a golden heart) was not edgy enough...It was a sanitized version of what he could have been... his character needed the guts of a Vishal Bhardwaj to develop.

Ultimately, the bottomline for me (both reflexively and after giving it some thought) was that it is a visually appealing movie that just fails to make a connection to the heart. The story had potential...it just gave precedence to style over substance. Of course, very few movies combine these two elements effectively and what is needed for that are masterful actors.
So, Raavan is like a picturesque landscape painting...a good idea at best.

COMMENTS from other blogs which I think were very insightful:

http://baradwajrangan.wordpress.com/2010/06/19/review-raavan/

From Rangan Baradwaj: As it turns out, this movie is more an excuse to allow the cinematographers to run riot. Ragini (Aishwarya), who’s been kidnapped by Beera (Abhishek) and who screams for help from the edge of a lake whose shore is littered with gleaming shards of black rock. Instead of responding to her distress, you’re wondering how a similar tile-design would look in your living room. It’s tempting to think what a better actress, one less prone to dainty posturing, might have accomplished with this character.

PS: I think I know what is missing in Rathnam's work...his movies are like prolonged music videos, which compromises the substance. In other words, Rathnam is no Vishal Bharadwaj...just a look at the latter's brilliant adaptation of Macbeth and Othello for Maqbool and Omkara is ample proof..I rest my case.