Reading Updates

The last month has been quite interesting in terms of reading and I have managed to diligently stick to reading books I own/have borrowed rather than buying a bunch of books and then ignoring them. My latest decluttering drive is beginning to hit my book purchases too.

The Troubled Man by Henkell Manning. In my search for interesting new thrillers, I decided to try this one out. The book features popular fictional detective Kurt Wallander. A friend had mentioned the series long ago and I knew a TV show was running somewhere. So it was with great expectations that I began the book.

The story was intriguing enough. Set in Sweden, the story revolves around a highly decorated and retired naval officer who disappears one fine day. Wallander’s daughter has had a child with the naval officer’s son and the family ties pull in the detective though it is not really his jurisdiction. Wallander digs into the past and unearths secrets from the time of the Cold War, when Russia was a huge threat to Nato forces till he finally figures out ancient secrets that have lead to the present day situation.

Somehow, I get the sense that fictional detectives have become a morose lot. Wallander is no different. Besides being old and living in a country where isolation can hit one quite easily, the tale becomes a shade more depressing than regular ones. I suspect earlier Wallander books may not be quite so morbid since this book seems to be a culmination of sorts to the detective’s career. Going by the plot, I think it should be worth trying a Wallander if one is interested in reading thrillers but maybe this is not the best book to start off with.

Verdict - Read but pick another book in the series

Smokes and Mirrors by Pallavi Iyer – After the bleak, fictional landscape of the previous book, I turned to this delightful account of living in China during its ‘coming out’ days. Iyer follows her boyfriend to China in 2003 and in her five years there as a teacher and then a newspaper correspondent, she gets to observe China’s growth story. She comments on everything from the change in skyline to the pre-Olympic drive to learn English and the changing economy. She also comments on her personal experiences in getting to know her Chinese students, neighbours and acquaintances better and gives a good sense of how the local populace thinks. My own favourite part of the book is her ‘Indian’ insight that come from a middle-class upbringing in Delhi. It leads her to ponder over questions like ‘would I prefer to be a Dalit in democratic India or a toilet cleaner in single-party rule Beijing’. (The answer is the latter since the Chinese don’t treat toilet cleaners like they were born to do the job). It is slightly dated now but that makes it all the more interesting to read since you can compare how two neighbours with potential have been taking different paths.

Verdict - Read

The Feast of Roses by Indu Sundaresan – I had borrowed this book a while ago but was not quite sure if I really wanted to read it. This is a fictionalized account of Mughal empress, Noorjahan’s life from the time she married Jehangir to his death. In the end it turned out to be fairly absorbing. The book provides an account of how court intrigues would have been back then, which is fairly standard stuff if one has read enough historical fiction. The interesting parts are the author’s imaginative account of how events would have affected Noorjahan personally in the historical context of then. A quick page turner for a slow day when you want to read something more engaging than chicklit.

Verdict - Read if you have the time

Serious Men by Manu Joseph – The book works on a good plot and touches upon the sensitive topic of caste divisions without making any pretensions about ‘how everyone is really equal in the end’. They are not.

Ayyan Mani, the dalit clerk works in the prestigious Institute of Theory and Research, a formidable bastion of intellect populated entirely by upper caste staff. His boss, the brilliant and well-connected Aravind Acharya is up against a bunch of scientists with a contradictory agenda. As events unfold, Acharya tries to hold his own. Ayyan, meanwhile fights the system in a subtle manner with his own little games involving his young son.

None of the characters are particularly likeable in the book. Ayyan is the sort of person, were he to sit as a clerk in a government office, you would feel like slapping but would not since that would ensure your work never got done. Acharya is the pompous sort of person, so absolutely confident in his own theories that he cannot give space for a contradictory viewpoint. Yet, it is Ayyan you feel for. Stuck as he is in the bottom of the caste food-chain and trying to make up little subversive games to provide vent to his frustrations, he nevertheless has to face live with his station in life.

It is interesting to see a mainstream book that weaves the reality of India’s caste system into an entertaining fictional narrative. In my personal opinion though, it could have done even more.

Verdict - Read

The Tiger's Wife by Tea Obreht - The book came much recommended in various forums and I promptly bought a copy (yes breaking my no buying books rule). The story is set in a Balkan country (read Yugoslavia) and jumps and back through the country's fractured history and how war impacts its people. The book jumps from history to allegory to folk tales and so on, making it a clever enough book though not quite ever making the point it sets out to make. 
The narrator is a young doctor, Natalia, whose grandfather has just died. Living with her grandparents and her mother, she grows up listening to the stories of the tiger's wife and the deathless man. As she journeys to deliver medicines to a distant village and makes a side trip to collect her grandfather's belongings, she takes us through both stories.

The story is entertaining for most parts in its own steam, even if you lose the complex background sometimes.

Verdict - Dithering between Read and Read if you have the time.

While I was trying to figure out what to read next, I dipped into my reserve of the American Book of Essays series (which I have plugged in quite a few posts before) and spent several evenings engrossed in essays on how to do French cooking and what to do about a dog that is not endearingly mad but is aggressive enough to be a risk to everyone around it.

Any book recos welcome – particularly in non-fiction that is well written.

And one big hug

If there is one thing that defines the innate Tam-ness in me, it is my utter reluctance to publicly hug anyone. You won’t see people folding each other in bear hugs at family gatherings. Usually a beaming smile does the trick. Or if you are quite overcome, then a clasping of hands. An exceptional few can give a sideways hug. But a full-frontal hugassault, complete with planting of kisses on the cheeks is usually left to really old grandmothers.

Of course, there were hugs and kisses aplenty when we were kids. But at some point in time, as we morphed into adults, body contact also became quite limited.

This, compounded with my own personal preference to not invade each other’s body space, meant that I was not prepared in anyway for the north-of-Vindya’s style of greeting people.

A bunch of us from B-School had started getting quite friendly with each other and commemorated it with a meal at a nearby low-budget restaurant. Someone had gotten along a camera to celebrate the occasion and we huddled closer together to fit into the frame. One second, there was I was standing without touching anyone and the next second a friend had me encased in a sideways hug. When the photograph was developed (yes, it was before the ubiquitous digital cameras), the look on my face said it all.

There were occasions when I sensed that some of my Delhi-friends (who seemed to greet even a relative stranger with all-encompassing hugs) were actually getting withdrawal symptoms from having to hold back the hugs.

Over time, I became a bit more relaxed about this strange cultural phenomenon. With friends, it became perfectly natural to greet someone with a hug. And the longer one had gone without seeing a friend, the longer the hug lasted.

Finally I had unlearnt the Tam hugging-etiquette.

Or so I thought, till I began working with a bunch of Europeans.

If American companies taught you all about firm handshakes, the Europeans taught you all about a quick hug and kisses on both cheeks. Of course, one did not do that with perfect strangers/business acquaintances or clients. However, if you had been working with someone for a really long time and got along very well with them on a personal level, then this little ritual was considered quite normal.

My first hint of this happened on a business trip overseas, where a colleague grabbed me and blew what seemed like a never-ending series of air kisses near both ears with a ‘happy new year’. My startled deer-caught-in-the-headlights look did not help matters at all.

So now only was I meant to hug people, I was also supposed to lean in and make these kissing noises near their ears. Besides these were friendly acquaitances, as opposed to friends. The latter you really don't mind hugging after a while.

This was only getting worse and worse.

Frankly, on grounds of hygiene, I much prefer the traditional folding of hands greeting. One did not have to worry about spreading germs with needless hand contact. Still, when in Rome do as the Romans do.

So the next time, I decided to go on the offensive. A chance run-in into a colleague’s wife provided an opportunity to do the air kiss ritual. I went for the hug, leaned in and began the air kisses. Except she withdrew after a couple and my pursed lips were still hovering in the air ready for the third air kiss. One can look pretty foolish and pretentious doing this on Mumbai’s streets.

Time had come to observe when to stop with the air kisses, the way kids learnt when to stop with the ‘na’ while spelling ‘banana’. Careful observation showed that two usually did the trick. The most important thing was to hold the other person in a vice grip till you were done so you would not look terribly foolish with the pursed-lips-in-vacant-air look if the other person withdrew.

This does not mean that I have tried going on the offensive again. I have learnt my lesson and have decided to go back to my old way of only reciprocating these hugs. But atleast now I know how not to look like a jackass while doing the new ritual.

Here is to hoping this is how much I will have to learn about hugging in the name of social etiquette.

What have I been reading

All my good intentions to write about books I am reading disappeared with the New Year. Rather ironic considering a new year is when people start new habits, not stop them. Now I cannot remember too many of the books I read but here are a few I remember

Suits by Nina Godiwalla. The author is a second generation Indian (Parsi) in the U.S. who works as an analyst with Morgan Stanley. Starry-eyed and fresh out of her college, she is bowled over by Wall Street till she realizes how soul-sucking the experience can be. For someone who has worked in a similar atmosphere where people think their jobs make them the most important persons on earth and should be prioritized over a personal life, the book has several ‘ah-ha’ moments. Even otherwise, it is a good insight into what lies behind the glamour of sharp suits and an expensive lifestyle on Wall Street.

Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand by Helen Simonson - This book was borrowed from P who recommended it as a nice and entertaining read. Indeed it was. This is a charming tale about a stiff upper lipped British widower who gradually falls in love with his Pakistani neighbour while trying to get used to the man his son is growing into. The book gave an insight into the other side of the ‘Desi’ experience viz how provincial white locals see immigrants.

The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. Last year end was also a time of thinking about stress and its effects on health. This meant that I was scouring the book shelves to find books on happiness, spirituality and all the other fluffy stuff that I had considered fluffy for a long time. In the end I settled for this book which was really secondary material considering it documented the author’s year long project at finding happiness and her view of the literature she had read on happiness and spirituality. (I was much too lazy to read primary stuff). However, unlike what I had expected out of a book that veered very dangerously into the Self-Help category, this seemed like a cheerful first person account of their own experiences, much like writing about discovering trekking or something similar. The book is divided into twelve months and in each month, the author focuses on a particular feature of her life to work on making it better. The part I liked the most was about learning to be content. When it comes down to the basics, almost all of us have highs and lows that veer around a median. Unfortunately as the years get on (or perhaps as one moves towards an early mid-life crisis?) the focus on the lows make things look bleak. This is where the insight about ‘It is not enough to have stuff’ but ‘it is also important to be able to appreciate the stuff you have’ begins to make sense. A good read if you are looking to connect with the general world in its search for happiness.

In between all these books, I am quite sure I did a bit of other reading too but now my memory falters. However, the Pench trip did provide some interesting reading.

The Palace of Illusions by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni - I had been wary of this author for some time from a previous experience of reading a rather depressing book (cannot recall this one). However quite a few people, including the Sis had recommended this book. The book tells the Mahabharata from Draupadi’s point of view. Needless to say, it is coloured by contemporary feminist views and hence makes for interesting reading. The author also introduces a whole new angle (or is it not that new?) about Draupadi having a thing for Karna. This becomes a bit tedious after a while since it takes away from the main events themselves and Draupadi’s take on them. However that is a minor quibble. The book shows Draupadi’s rise from a willful and innocent young girl to a woman who plays politics well and eventually causes the Kurukshetra war. It also shows Draupadi’s view of other characters, primarily the female ones given that they are the ones she interacts most with. I quite liked her analysis of Kunti, which was quite contrary to the image of a pious mother and regal royal you normally have.

Where the Shadows Lie by Michael Ridpath – Another thriller. Two things made me happy about the book (a) I had picked it up on a whim and was happy to note that it was not of the factory-churned pot boiler type (b) the book is set in Iceland and it is always fascinating to read about a culture which you have never bothered about before. Infact, I felt a keen kinmanship with the Icelanders because they have a very Tamilian way of using surnames. You just keep your father’s name as your surname and add ‘son’ or ‘dottir’ as the case may be. Say someone is called Harald and his son is called Magnus, the son’s full name would be Magnus Haraldsson. If Magnus had been a Tam, his name would have been Magnus Harald. Cool, huh?

Nation by Terry Pratchet – Continuing with my on and off love affair with Terry Pratchet, I had picked up this book a while ago. Nation is standard Terry Pratchet – takes on a serious topic and tries to lighten it up. So there are a lot of questions about gods and science and colonialism and evil and so on in the story of Mau, a ‘darkie’ in an island in the Southern hemisphere and Daphne, a ‘ghost girl’ (as white-skinned people are called) who finds herself in the same island as Mau. After my increasing disillusionment with the Discworld series, it was nice to read this book.

Unfortunately my reading has suffered in the last month on account of being drained at the end of some heavy days at work. Not that any of the above books are really winning any prizes for intellectualism, but some nights I would go to bed too tired to read beyond two pages and it is a dampener trying to pick up from where you left after every two pages.

Fortunately this meant that I could rediscover Enid Blyton’s Faraway Tree series that was one of the books that Sis gifted me on my birthday. It is so strange to read this series as adult. The first few chapters had me shocked. As a child I must have been fascinated by a giant tree in the middle of the forest in which lived all sorts of interesting characters and on top of which all sorts of interesting lands appeared. As an adult, I was suspicious about the characters the kids were associating with, about the fact they were wandering into a forest by themselves, worried about their safety and wondered how in the world did Blyton-parents turn a blind eye to their children’s activities. And I don’t even have a kid! Luckily after the first few chapters, I discovered my inner child and began to enjoy all the adventures. The timing to read this book could not have been more appropriate. The Famous Five series has been in the news for completion of 70 years of existence this year and there a lot of articles on how politically inappropriate Enid Blyton’s books were, all of them true. However, everyone agreed that she is a master storyteller. And the Faraway Tree series reminded me of how right that is.

Work is saner now and I am quite looking forward to going back to normalcy when it comes to reading. The happy news is that I discovered a library next door to the grocery store. So I see myself making yet another concerted effort at borrowing books instead of buying them and overcrowding the house.

Resolutions, resolutions. Let us see how that goes

Pench National Park

Pench had been on our list for quite some time. Using the long weekend, we found ourselves on a flight to Nagpur early Friday morning. We had initially toyed with the idea of taking the overnight train on Thursday but eventually this worked out well since I was working till the very last minute on Thursday (continuing with the crazy amount of work I have been doing the whole of this month). For once in the time I have known D, he actually had his packing done before me.

On Friday morning, we landed bright and early in Nagpur and were picked up by a prearranged taxi. The drive to Pench is about two hours (can be much longer if you are unlucky enough to be caught in the long line of trucks crossing the border to MP).

We had made reservations at Kipling’s Court, MP tourism’s neat little abode near Pench. I must say that I never expected a tourism department’s accommodation to be so nice but indeed it was. The service was quick and efficient. The hordes of people actually did some work instead of walking around in a desultory manner (this has been my experience in other tourism homes). The cottages themselves were built quite cleverly. Each cottage had its own path to the common area, so you did not have people walking past your open doors and windows at all hours. The food was good and there was a serviceable pool in which all the male Indian guests flaunted their round bellies in the mornings.

On Friday afternoon, we set off on the first of the two safaris we had prebooked. There are two safari slots every day – at 6 a.m.and 3 p.m. Only 50 vehicles are permitted at a time and during peak seasons and public holidays, it is better to do the booking through your hotel/agent beforehand to ensure you find a slot. (Our safari agent, Ajay Bhavre 09424364217/ 09770732319 came well recommended on the net and was quite friendly and efficient)

Pench can get very hot in the afternoon, even in March. It was forty degrees as we set out in the open Gypsy van. I tried not to move around too much in the vain hope that staying icy calm would be the way to beat the heat. The forest itself was brown and stark, the green leaves appearing in rare and welcome patches. D and I gulped down water regularly. Even as we stopped at the first watering hole to wait for the tiger, I was seriously tempted to go and lie down in the water myself.

After two hours, the sun began to grow more tolerable. We had seen a few birds and a lot of deers and monkeys and hardly any of the bigger animals of note. But honestly, I did not see which animal in its right senses would want to be prowling the forest at this time. However, as evening came and the temperature began to drop we could feel the forest stirring to life.

We were driving on yet another route filled with deers and monkeys when we spotted four vehicles parked around the same spot. The guides in each of them were standing with their bodies tense and alert, listening to the sounds of birds and deers screeching away. This usually means an ‘alarm call’ is out for a predator. We joined the parked vehicles. As the calls got more intense and louder, more and more vehicles converged on the spot, all waiting with eager anticipation.

Finally, someone spotted a striped creature among the trees. A hushed whisper ran around the parked vehicles. The guides began to hiss to each other their prediction of where the tiger would go. No one really had an idea though if the tiger would walk away into the woods or if would it show itself more fully.

We waited. And suddenly, belying even our wildest hopes, the tiger began to majestically stride forward. It crossed the road between two vehicles which had been parked at a good distance from each other. Everything was quiet except for the steady clicking noise of cameras. As she (for it was a she) retreated into the forest on the other side of the road, some of the vehicles started and began to go further down the road.

We had seen ‘Badi Ma’ as the tigress is fondly known among the guides. The oldest in the region at 11 years, she had spawned several new generations of tigers and was still in good health despite approaching the end of a tiger’s life span (usually 13 – 14 years)

We were really content and happy on the drive back. Spotting a tiger is luck of the draw. You could go on 3 – 4 safaris during a stay and still not see one. Or you could just get lucky like us and see it on your first evening.

The good thing about having spotted the tiger was that we could now just stay in and chill for the rest of our stay. So that is what we did the whole of Saturday. I steadily finished reading the book I had been carrying. Then moved onto the next one and finished it that evening. And began the third one post-dinner. Some reading days are just perfect.

Sunday morning, we set out into the forest again for our second and last pre-booked safari. I was quite looking forward to this since the weather would be much cooler. It was indeed cooler. And there were tons and tons of birds around. We (or rather the guide) spotted beautiful woodpeckers, rollers, hornbills, black orioles, serpent eagles, ibis’, herons and so on. It was lovely being in the forest just after day break and watching the birds.

We also saw a couple of jackals looking most annoyed by our morning perambulations. However, we did not spot anything bigger than that. The usual deers and monkeys were around. No tiger though. Certainly there was no sign of a leopard, which a few people had spotted the earlier day and which we were really hoping to see.

Safaris are strange activities when you think about it. Fifty vehicles go up and down the same routes, passing each other at regular intervals. The guides nod to each other to indicate that they have not spotted anything. The city-bred passengers meanwhile sit in their sun glasses, carrying expensive cameras fully expecting to see a tiger or a leopard. It takes a while to realize that just because we have made it to the Reserve does not mean that the tiger/leopard has an obligation to show up and pose for photographs.

Still, we had seen the big cat and had something to say to the folks back home if they asked about the trip. We had also seen a few other animals and birds of great beauty. Baby bisons (weighing a mere 500 kilos unlike their parents who weighed a ton each) were my favourite. Their coats were absolutely lustrous and the little patch of fur on their heads provided a beautiful base for the pink and white horns. The peacocks we saw had coats that sparkled like jewels in the sunlight. Being in its natural environment certainly does wonders to the skin! We saw baby boars with squirrel-like marks on their backs to help them camouflage themselves. We saw Nilgais looking dangerously huge for an herbivore.

Yup, it is good to get away from the urban jungle once in a while.

Movie watching

It has been raining films after a long, dry spell. First the Oscar nominees made it to the halls nearby. Now a couple of Hindi movies have provided much needed succour from the horrendous lull in Bollywood.

The first one, Paan Singh Tomar tells us the story of a National Games winner who goes on to become a dacoit. It is a rather simple one-line story. Here, meet Paan Singh Tomar, national athlete. And lo behold! Here meet Paan Singh Tomar, dacoit. The why and how of the situation is told in the movie in an unhurried manner. I quite liked the movie, but was not totally moved by it. It just goes to show how used one is to watching stuff about the badass Hindi heartland. This was till two incidents in the newspapers shook me up a bit. One was the murder of an IPS officer in the Morena region that took place when he tried to stop the mining mafia. Paan Singh Tomar is infact based partly in Morena and you suddenly realise that cold blooded murders are very very real even in this day and age. The second was the story of a BSP village pradhan’s husband being killed, allegedly by a SP MLA. The story of how he was surrounded by goons, was hidden by his second wife and was eventually dragged out and hacked and shot, got me to gulp. There is a lawless world out there somewhere and suddenly you can understand why Paan Singh Tomar did what he did.

The second movie, Kahaani, is a laudable attempt at suspense by Bollywood. Set in Kolkata, the movie traces the travails of protagonist Vidya Bagchi (played wonderfully well by Vidya Balan) as she tries to track down her missing husband. Suspense stories usually work well when you suspend your disbelief and do not question the premise of the events when they unfold. A trick that Hollywood is excellent at pulling off through it high budget, sleek visuals. Kahaani gets the viewer from thinking too much by loading each scene with heavy visuals of Kolkata. Every scene is filled with details and before you can actually grasp them, process the scene that is going on and move on to question the logic of it, you have moved to the next scene and need to start the process all over again. When you come out of the theatre, your mind begins working the questions. During the movie itself, you sit back and enjoy the ride.

Both movies are worth a watch.