Saturday and Sunday

Another Saturday spent at Aries bookstore. This time, since we were at the end of the month, AquaM and I were broke, so we reserved the books that we wanted to take. No free books this time. I didn't expect any. By now, sorting books has become sort of a second nature so I became bored. That's why I amused myself by doing the impersonations of the three witches in Macbeth. That spooked AquaM out. Since that also bored me out, I took to doing the voices of a cranky British old lady! By this time, AquaM became suddenly silent. I took a book, read the blurb in a terribly foreign voice and turned up my nose in the air as though it was the worst book in the world! What fun! It reminded me of my theatre days. I swear one of these days I will run away and become an actress in travelling theatre company like Footsbarn!

I spend the New Year eve at home with my folks like a good girl! :) Isn't that boring enough? So I won't continue torturing you poor souls who have been very kind enough to visit my blog. :)

Happy New Year

Hello everyone who visits my blog,

Here's wishing you all a very very happy new year!

May you get all that you ever wish for with all your heart in 2006!

Love,
AFJ

Three books

I sometimes read at breakneck speed. Almost all the time I miss writing reviews because I am so into the next book. Since I have read so many books that I thought I could do brief reviews of some of the books I have read. I know this does not do justice to any of the books mentioned but this will have to do for now. Later, maybe (no promises) I will write a complete review for each.


Ishmael by Daniel Quinn

An ecological novel that gives you a different explanation about how industrialization of the world begun. Through the words of a master who uses Socratic dialogues to impart knowledge and who happens to be a Gorilla called Ishmael, the narrator and ultimately us discover why is it that our civilization has destroyed itself beyond repair.

I read this book while in 3rd year college and reread it recently. I still swear by it. Recently, I found it at Landmark and grabbed the only copy around.


The Clothes They Stood Up In by Alan Bennett’s

Another precious little find from Aries bookstore.

My playwright friend enlightened me about the author Alan Bennett. Bennett is a playwright himself whose first novel is this parable. It’s the sorry of the ironically named rather traditional couple called the Ransomes.

One day, mysteriously they are robbed off ALL the items in their apartment down to the roll of toilet paper. For a while, they try to adjust to their existence minus all the material things. Mrs. Ransome discovers new things and neighbours and better adjusts to the situation while Mr. Ransome is plain irritated by it. When they do get their things back, their life has changed. They have changed.

This book raised some interesting questions in my head: how dependent are we on material items of daily life? Can we do without them? Would we react like Mr. Ransome or like Mrs. Ransome welcome the change?


The Shadow of the Serpent by Mercedes Lackey

An out and out fantasy novel. (Yes, from Aries again!) I picked up this book because of the plot and character. An Anglo-Indian heroine who can perform magic was too much to resist. This is also supposed to be reworking of Snow White and the Seven dwarves.

Dr. Maya Witherspoon has left India and is running away from her mother’s sister an evil sorceress who worships the demon goddess Kali is after Maya because she hated the fact that her magician sister had polluted their blood by marrying outside her caste and community. Maya’s father a doctor by profession is killed mysteriously leading Maya to migrate to London with some of her loyal servants, Gupta and his family and her seven protectors/pets. She needs to learn magic formally from an English mage to protect herself and her family.

This novel provides a good break with reality with a romance thrown in for good measure.

My blogging personality

My Bloginality is ENFP!!

As an ENFP, you are Extraverted, iNtuative, Feeling , Perceiving.This makes your primary focus on Extraverted Intuition with Introverted Feeling.

This is defined as a NF personality, which is part of Carl Jung's Idealist (Identity Seeking) type, and more specifically the Champions or Inspirer.

As a weblogger, you may not be consistant in posts. Although, if you find a specific focus on their journal or a very flexible manner of writing, it may be more fufilling. Because you are warm and see so many posibilities in life, you may inspire others to follow in your footsteps with a journal.

Motley fool

We can't start perfectly and beautifully. Don't be afraid of being a fool; start as a fool.

-Chogyam Trungpa Rimpoche

The rose, the prince, and some quotable quotes

Since I am totally into the Tale of the Rose that I started doing some research online about his wife Consuelo de Saint-Exupéry (Consuelo means consolation in Spanish). I found these quotes from Saint-Ex's books.

Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction. ~ Wind, Sand and Stars

I should wait for night, I said to myself; and if I was still alive I would walk alone on the highway that runs through our village. Alone and safely isolated in my beloved solitude. So that I might discover why it is I ought to die.~ Flight to Arras

I should have liked to begin this story in the fashion of the fairy-tales. I should have liked to say: 'Once upon a time there was a little prince who lived on a planet that was scarcely any bigger than himself, and who had need of a friend . . . ~ The Little Prince

But certainly, for those of us who understand life, figures are a matter of indifference.~ The Little Prince

When a mystery is too overpowering, one dare not disobey.~ The Little Prince

What makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well . . .~ The Little Prince

The thing that is important is the thing that is not seen.~ The Little Prince

But the eyes are blind. One must look with the heart . . .~ The Little Prince

'I wonder,' he said, 'whether the stars are set alight in heaven so that one day each of us may find his own again . . . .' ~ The Little Prince

In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night . . . You -- only you -- will have the stars that can laugh!~ The Little Prince

Weekend update

I guess AquaM would have already given a good idea about our Saturday Voluntary adventure. These are the books that I got. Need I add, for free?

Two copies of The Tale of the Rose by Consuelo de Saint-Exupéry: I wanted two copies to give a copy to a dear friend of mine who totally is in love with The Little Prince. I would consider this a great find since I did not see such hardback books going for such less prices elsewhere. It was AquaM who spotted these amazing books!

Breaking and Entering- An Inspector Ghote Mystery by H.R.F Keating: I have always seen Keating's books along with P.D. James's at the British Council Library and by passed them. But suddenly today I wanted to read them. Keating was rumored to have created the Indian setting and characters all from sitting in the comfort of his English home. I have also seen the Inspector Ghote mystery that was made into a movie by Merchant-Ivory called A Perfect Murder (1990) and liked it.

We are planning to go back this weekend to continue the cataloging.

Music for the soul

I am no connoisseur of Classical music but I am very touched by Hindustani classical music. I can’t say that music was all around me when I was growing up. My introduction to Hindustani classical music was through the rather beautiful and classical numbers from old Hindi films.

My first introduction was thanks to Shubha Mudgal, whose voice I find so mesmerising that there is not quite another voice like hers in this whole wide world. However, I didn’t find her Ab ke Saawan so great as her classical numbers. Though I did find of the slower more soulful numbers very appealing.

The next “classical” album I got was Sardari Begum. I remember this quizzical look Mom gave at me (and said, “You want this?”) when her teenage daughter settled for a semi classical album over all those Sunita Raos and jhatak mataks that the market offered to a teenager then. This I think was the mid 90s. Those were the days of the cassette players. There is still one rather old fashioned (it was rather hi-fi when we got it) one sitting looking very mournful at the lack of music it plays. Ever since CDs became accessible, I didn’t have to turn to my Phillips Powerhouse. However, the cassettes are still collecting dust. Back to what I was saying, Sardari Begum convinced me that Classical music has a soul that is denied to over music. I can’t critique classical music. That would be choti muh badi baat. But I can enjoy it to the fullest.

The reason I am writing about classical music is that I stumbled onto the music of the movie Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi and was pleasantly surprised by the mix of folk and classical numbers in the list. Maybe I will pick up the album. The Thumri is a sheer delight. I can keep listening to it again and again. I wish more and more movies would go back to the classical music base rather than the trash that they turn out now. I am listening to the music right now and it feels so soothing to the soul.

And remember this motto to live by

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, wine in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!"

TIME’s list of 100 great books

I have read 23 out these 100 books. This is because I couldn’t finish two books. So I gave myself a half for each!

I have one major complaint against this list. Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s novel One Hundred Years of Solitude doesn’t even figure in the list but Judy Blume does! Every one I have met who has read Marquez’s this novel agrees that this is a literary tour de force. And it made such a deep impression on me when I read it. I will talk about it in another post. Let's go to the list first.


The Adventures of Augie March (Saul Bellow)
All the King's Men (Robert Penn Warren)
American Pastoral (Philip Roth)
An American Tragedy (Theodore Dreiser)
Animal Farm (George Orwell)
Appointment in Samarra (John O'Hara)
Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret (Judy Blume)
The Assistant (Bernard Malamud)
At Swim-Two-Birds (Flann O'Brien)
Atonement (Ian McEwan)
Beloved (Toni Morrison)
The Berlin Stories (Christopher Isherwood)
The Big Sleep (Raymond Chandler)
The Blind Assassin (Margaret Atwood)
Blood Meridian (Cormac McCarthy)
Brideshead Revisited (Evelyn Waugh)
The Bridge of San Luis Rey (Thornton Wilder)
Call It Sleep (Henry Roth)
Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
A Clockwork Orange (Anthony Burgess)
The Confessions of Nat Turner (William Styron)
The Corrections (Jonathan Franzen)
The Crying of Lot 49 (Thomas Pynchon)
A Dance to the Music of Time (Anthony Powell)
The Day of the Locust (Nathanael West)
Death Comes for the Archbishop (Willa Cather)
A Death in the Family (James Agee)
The Death of the Heart (Elizabeth Bowen)
Deliverance (James Dickey)
Dog Soldiers (Robert Stone)
Falconer (John Cheever)
The French Lieutenant's Woman (John Fowles)
The Golden Notebook (Doris Lessing)
Go Tell it on the Mountain (James Baldwin)
Gone With the Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
Gravity's Rainbow (Thomas Pynchon)
The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald)
A Handful of Dust (Evelyn Waugh)
The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter (Carson McCullers)
The Heart of the Matter (Graham Greene)
Herzog (Saul Bellow)
Housekeeping (Marilynne Robinson)
A House for Mr. Biswas (V.S. Naipaul)*
I, Claudius (Robert Graves)
Infinite Jest (David Foster Wallace)
Invisible Man (Ralph Ellison)
Light in August (William Faulkner)
The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C.S. Lewis)
Lolita (Vladimir Nabokov)
Lord of the Flies (William Golding)
The Lord of the Rings (J.R.R. Tolkien)
Loving (Henry Green)
Lucky Jim (Kingsley Amis)
The Man Who Loved Children (Christina Stead)
Midnight's Children (Salman Rushdie)
Money (Martin Amis)
The Moviegoer (Walker Percy)
Mrs. Dalloway (Virginia Woolf)
Naked Lunch (William Burroughs)
Native Son (Richard Wright)
Neuromancer (William Gibson)
Never Let Me Go (Kazuo Ishiguro)
1984 (George Orwell)#
On the Road (Jack Kerouac)
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (Ken Kesey)
The Painted Bird (Jerzy Kosinski)
Pale Fire (Vladimir Nabokov)
A Passage to India (E.M. Forster)
Play It As It Lays (Joan Didion)
Portnoy's Complaint (Philip Roth)
Possession (A.S. Byatt)
The Power and the Glory (Graham Greene)
The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (Muriel Spark)
Rabbit, Run (John Updike)
Ragtime (E.L. Doctorow)
The Recognitions (William Gaddis)
Red Harvest (Dashiell Hammett)
Revolutionary Road (Richard Yates)
The Sheltering Sky (Paul Bowles)
Slaughterhouse-Five (Kurt Vonnegut)
Snow Crash (Neal Stephenson)
The Sot-Weed Factor (John Barth)
The Sound and the Fury (William Faulkner)
The Sportswriter (Richard Ford)
The Spy Who Came in From the Cold (John le Carre)
The Sun Also Rises (Ernest Hemingway)
Their Eyes Were Watching God (Zora Neale Hurston)
Things Fall Apart (Chinua Achebe)
To Kill a Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
To the Lighthouse (Virginia Woolf)
Tropic of Cancer (Henry Miller)
Ubik (Philip K. Dick)
Under the Net (Iris Murdoch)
Under the Volcano (Malcolm Lowry)
Watchmen (Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons)
White Noise (Don DeLillo)
White Teeth (Zadie Smith)
Wide Sargasso Sea (Jean Rhys)


--

*The House for Mister Biswas was too boring to continue.
#“1984” - too scary to finish reading. I started looking over my shoulder and expecting the Thought Police to record everything I thought!

I should be an artist!

Your Career Type: Artistic

You are expressive, original, and independent.Your talents lie in your artistic abilities: creative writing, drama, crafts, music, or art. You would make an excellent: Actor - Art Teacher - Book Editor Clothes Designer - Comedian - Composer Dancer - DJ - Graphic DesignerIllustrator - Musician - Sculptor The worst career options for your are conventional careers, like bank teller or secretary.

What's" Your Ideal Career?

My blog year in review

Thanks to Abaniko, this is my blog year in review. The lines are the last sentence of the first entry of each month in 2005. There are two months where I haven't posted anything.


January: no entry

February: Though you can count out the usual chirpiness that I'm associated with.

March: Hope she gets a slice of the sale she made.

April: There is nothing to cry over and everything to mourn for.

May: The two are also accompanied by Lalmohan Ganguly, an enthusiastic and cheerful companion who writes potboiler thrillers under the name of Jatayu.

June: In the meantime, read the book for the sheer joy of reading.

July: no entry

August: Good night, Daddy.

September: Has anyone read him or heard of him?

October: Only the innocent people are the ones who are caught in between.

November: It was quite a non-happening Pujo as my brother and mom weren't here.

December: There is this site which tells how.

Adventure at Aries*

I have done many "different" things but today’s by far was the most "different." Some of the things that I did was jump onto a lorry (my friends were there, don’t worry they helped me up), get out of the auto from the other side because it was closer to where I was going, and have extended conversations with myself (I have heard this is quite common though I don’t know for sure). Today, in one of those afternoon walks – so that our legs do not become obsolete – AquaM and I went out for lunch and dropped into Aries Books on the way. (Aries books is the bookstore that Mrudula and AquaM discovered in one of the gullies of Mylapore, Chennai.)

When we got to the second floor, some of the books had been toppled over. There were no bookshelves on this floor. It’s just like a storeroom with books stocked along the walls. When the space against the walls were taken up, more books were stocked either against existing books or in new rows in the middle of the undivided room making book walls in the process.

Anyways, I just couldn’t stand there and look at the books some of which were half open, some lopsided, some upside down! So I got to work. There were no fans or windows. It was as I said a storeroom. The only thing that the room had to its advantage was light. Situated high one wall that faces the street were a line of skylights. I can’t think of calling them anything other than skylights. They sure weren’t windows; they couldn’t be opened. To remove the oppressive heat there was a huge pedestal fan, which was earlier, connected to the power socket but not today. The floor was paved with flattened cartons and plastic covering leftover from the packaging (One of the cartons has this stamped on it “Have you ever lived this life before this life? September 1989.”) And all over there was a pervading smell of books and dust.

So AquaM and I sat down amongst the books to set them in order. While AquaM browsed though the books that I handed her from time to time, I made row upon neat row of books. After a while, I was done. but not before I had picked up one more children’s book! John Bellair’s Johnny Dixon in The Bell, the Book, and the Spellbinder by Brad Strickland was screaming to me to take it out of its hell and let it bask in my attention on my private bookshelf.

Since we were such regular customers the assistant at the shop let me have a book (The Story of the Little Mole) for free.

Aside: If I had the bookstore to my disposal, I really think I can do so many things. For example, there were loads of Christmas books, so a Christmas display would be a great idea.

While sorting the books I realised that the books were all mixed up. The children’s books, fiction, memoirs, biographies were all stocked in one pile. I told AquaM that they need our help. Why don’t we volunteer here to arrange their books? And so we did. On the way out we spoke to the owner of the bookstore and said that we would be happy to volunteer our services. He was so enthusiastic that two people were so interested at all! And since this was all for free, he heartily accepted it! By the way, AquaM is the one who spoke since I was (a) paying for the book that I got and (b) making sure the septuagenarian cashier was not charging me for the book that I got free. There is also the matter that AquaM knows the local language a lot and I don’t.

I was always interested in causes but this sure is one of my off-the-road ones.

----------

*My apologies for the alliteration: it was too tempting. And all credit goes to Lamohan Ganguly who gave me this brilliant idea.

The Activist in Me

There is a part of me that thinks that this world needs to change. That's where my activism comes in. Before any images of slogan-shouting hunger-strike making me comes into your mind, let me tell you that I am neither. I am so lazy that on Sundays, when I do have the time, I refuse to step out! So a blog where I can champion my causes from the comfort of my chair is perfect for me.

The Activist in Me is my way of contributing to the world.

A Mystery

People say, 'What are you doing these days? What are you working on?'
I think for a moment or two.

The question interests me. What am I doing these days?
How odd that I haven't a clue.

Right now, of course, I'm working on this poem,
With just a few more lines to go.

But tomorrow someone will ask me, 'What are you up to these days? What are you working on?'
And still I won't know.

-Wendy Cope

Quote unquote

Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That's why it's a comfort to go hand in hand.

- Emily Kimbrough

So, what do you do?

I usually make it a point not to talk about my work. But today I will make an exception. I am an Instructional Designer. Before you go "Huh?", let me assure you I didn't know what an ID (industry-approved short form) was till a little over one year ago. Everytime someone asks me what I do, this is what I say:

XYZ: So, what do you do?
Me: I'm an Instructional Designer.
XYZ: (Comes closer as though their ears have deceived them; a question mark on their face. If I am very lucky, some people are actually impressed.) Eh?
Me: I design courses for corporates based on client requirements.
XYZ: (Has no idea) Oh!
Me: For example, if a company wants to let their employees want to know about a new environmental law which has to be followed, instead of having a seminar or workshop, they approach us to make a course.
XYZ: (Confused but eager to drop the topic) Oh okay! Where is your office?
Me: In S___.


I am very sure they haven't understood a thing but I haven't given up. The above is the pattern of every single conversation I have had about my work. I don't blame them. Being an ID is a relatively new profession. I am sure every profession till it becomes established goes through his "huh?" routine!

Wright flight

On a coastal sand dune near Kitty Hawk, N.C., on Dec. 17, 1903, two brothers, Orville and Wilbur Wright, realized one of mankind's earliest dreams: they flew.

Kites
To make the airplane, they had to study wind patterns and they also built kites. The kites were an unbelievable sight to see. People all around town would come and be amazed. To keep the kites in air as long as possible the Wright Brothers tried to control them from the ground. They built a kite with warped wing design. The kite had a 5-foot wing span and lines hung down from the tip of each wing and it worked perfectly!

Gliders
In 1900, the Wright Brothers built their very first glider that used wing warping. One person could fly this glider. The pilot was supposed to lie face down while holding two ropes that controlled the wings. They test flew it at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, where there was good steady wind that blew from the Atlantis Ocean. It was also good because it had a 100-foot sand dune. The brothers took turns in flying the glider. But the rides only lasted a short time and the longest was only 10 seconds.

By 1901, the brothers improved their glider and gave another try in Kitty Hawk. This time, the improved glider broke the world record by reaching 389 feet, but they were still not satisfied and believed they could make the glider go higher and fly longer.

Landmark flight
In December 17, 1903 the brothers tested their engine powered machine that they called Flyer 1. At 10:30 a.m. the brothers shook hands as the plane rumbled to life, history was about to be made. Orville went on Flyer 1 laying face down alongside the engine on the lower wing. Orville gave the signal to Wilber that he was ready. Suddenly the plane rolled forward faster and faster, then finally rose of the ground; Orville was the first person to fly an airplane.

The flight carried Orville only 120-feet and the brothers flew their aircraft three or more times that day. Wilber flew the last flight and it took him 852-feet and lasted 59 seconds. After that they went back to Dayton, Ohio and continued building and testing more airplanes. In 1908 they perfected an amazing airplane. It could fly 25 miles and stay in the air for 30 minutes; it had a speed of 40 miles per hour. The pilot would have so much control that it could fly in circles and do figures of eight.

Ignored
The Wright Brothers didn't receive much attention until a newspaper reporter witnessed a 1,000-foot flight in 1908 and that same year Wilber had traveled to France and flew their plane before European royalty. In 1909, the Wright Brothers formed a Wright Co. and opened a factory to manufacture aircraft. Unfortunately Wilber Wright did not live long enough to see the improvements of the plane; he died in 1912 from the typhoid fever. Orville lived to see how the airplane changed the world and our lives. He also lived to see the jet airplane, which replaced his original propeller, and how it was used for military and commercial proposes.

Source: Joseph, Paul. The Wright Brothers
Image source: aviationuniversity.com

Will the people in the cheaper seats clap your hands? And the rest of you, if you'll just rattle your jewellery

So said John Lennon. At a 1963 performance where members of the British Royal family were invited.

John Lennon. How many people don't know him? Maybe some amongst the untouched tribes in the deeper reaches of the Amazon. Lennon's wit was well-known. Here are five great Lennon moments that are both rib-tickling and give you an insight into the man called Lennon.

Impolite people, rude comments

Sooner or later it had to happen. The more time one spends on the Net especially the blogosphere, the more one gets to meet lots of different kinds of people. And someone somewhere doesn't agree with what you say. Now, one or the other of the following things happen:

(1) The person gets cheeky and leaves a comment that can be read either way. A back-handed compliment is staring at you the next time you check your blog.

My reaction: I prefer to avoid the insult. Depending on my mood I will either give back tit for tat or just let it be.

(2) The person prefers to avoid the issue. The non-confrontationalist is at work here.

My reaction: Good. I don't go looking for fights.

(3) The person leaves a polite but open comment that he/she does not agree with you. But one can make out from the tone that a discussion with an opposite point of view can be carried on. No harm done.

My reaction: Great! I'm all for people with different opinions. Just because I don't agree with you mean that you are against me.

(4) The person gets all personal and consequently rude.

My reaction: This is exactly what I cannot stand. This is a person's blog. We are still a democracy in cyberspace, so I have a right to say what I want to.

(5) The person "misreads" what you have posted and take their time to rant in MY comments section.

My reaction: Take your rant elsewhere, please. If you can't read English with the requisite meanings that the rest of the world agree on, I suggest you stop visiting my site.


To my utter disgust #5 happened to me. To top it all, the person actually said I can delete the comment. Of course, I won't delete the comment. The existence of the comment itself is proof of his or her rudeness not mine.

Note: I am really appalled by what happened to Abaniko. I wish more and more people would start to practice tolerance in their lives.

Which Greek Goddess are you?

Thanks to Rita, we found another innane quiz to spend some time on. I'm Aphrodite AND Hera.

If you want to similarly waste some time, here is the quiz.

Nothing

In bookstores there are no books,
in books no words,
in words no essence:
there are only husks.

In museums and waiting rooms
are painted canvases and fetishes.
In the Academy there are only recordings
of the wildest dances.

In mouths there is only smoke,
in the eyes only distance.
There is a drum in each ear.
A Sahara yawns in the mind.

Nothing frees us from the desert.
Nothing saves us from the drum.
Painted books shed their pages,
becoming husks of Nothing.

- Jorge Carrera Andrade

Who will defend Harry Potter?

I received the following in my mail today. It's from AWAD mail # 190, December 10, 2005.

---
From: Mike Pope (mike.popeATmicrosoft.com)
Subject: Harry Potter
Refer: http://wordsmith.org/words/cringeworthy.html

A bespectacled, hard-working Brit (I thought that was Harry Potter).

Actually, the "hard-working" part is Hermione. Some time ago, ChrisSuellentrop wrote an amusing essay in Slate http://www.slate.com/id/2073627/(or perhaps an infuriating one, if one is particularly enamored of MasterPotter) in which he casts a critical eye on the success of Harry Potter andconcludes that Harry himself has had little to do with it:

Harry Potter is no braver than his best friend, Ron Weasley, just richer andbetter-connected. Harry's other good friend, Hermione Granger, is smarterand a better student. The one thing Harry excels at is the sport ofQuidditch, and his pampered-jock status allows him to slide in his studies,as long as he brings the school glory on the playing field. But as CharlesBarkley long ago noted, being a good athlete doesn't make you a role model.[...]

What Harry has achieved on his own, without his mother, stems mostly fromluck and, more often, inheritance. He's a trust-fund kid whose success athis school, Hogwarts, is largely attributable to the gifts his friends andrelatives lavish upon him. A few examples: an enchanted map (made in part byhis father), an invisibility cloak (his father's), and a state-of-the artmagical broom (a gift from his godfather) that is the equivalent of a Lexusin a high-school parking lot... In fact, Harry rarely puts hard workor effort into anything. He is a "natural". Time and again, Harry iscelebrated for his instinctual gifts. When he learns that he is aParselmouth, or someone who can speak the language of snakes, Rowlingwrites, "He wasn't even aware of deciding to do it." (In fact, when Harrytries to speak this language, he can't do it. He can only do itinstinctively.) When Harry stabs a basilisk in Chamber of Secrets, Rowlingwrites that he did it "without thinking, without considering, as though hehad meant to do it all along." In Goblet of Fire, during Harry's battle withVoldemort, Rowling writes that "Harry didn't understand why he was doing it,didn't know what it might achieve. ..."

As they say, "when you put it that way ..."

Blog birthday

It's been one year since I started this blog. I have met some amazing people and read some great stuff too. I remember I used to think a lot about what to post. But nowadays, I seem to have lots to say! I guess I'm becoming a true blue blogger! :)

A big hug and lots of thanks to all those people who visit my blog!

Muah!

You pick the time!

Vee gave me this exquisite video from a regional movie called Operation Diamond Racket. The song is glitzier than a chiffon saree with sparkles on it. The actor is Rajkumar, one of those golden oldie stars of the erstwhile 1940s though 1980s who played hero for close to 40 years. Of course with different heroines! The icing on the cake is the lyrics. Shall we start? Here goes:


Chorus:
If you come today, it’s too early;
If you come tomaarow, it’ too late (2)

You pick the time……
tick tick tick tick tick
a tick tick tick tick tick
a tick tick tick tick tick
Daaaarling!

If you come today, it’s too early;
If you come tomaarow, it’ too late

[Music]

Did you say morning?
No, no, it’s not good.
Did you say evening?
Nono, it’s too bad.
Did you say at noon?
Oh no, it’s not the time.
What did you say?
hey What did you say?
Nothing?
Oh, it’s all right!

You pick the time……
tick tick tick tick tick
a tick tick tick tick tick
a tick tick tick tick tick
Daaaarling!

If you come today, it’s too early;
If you come tomaarow, it’ too late

Million times beating my heart
Million dreams haunt my heart
Million desires stinging my heart
Million memories squeeze my heart (2)

You pick the time…
tick tick tick tick tick
a tick tick tick tick tick
a tick tick tick tick tick
a tick tick tick tick tick

If you come today, it’s too early;
If you come tomaarow, it’ too late

You pick the time…
tick tick tick tick tick
a tick tick tick tick tick
a tick tick tick tick tick
a tick tick tick tick tick
Daaaarling!

Note: Thanks to Vee for finding the lyrics and the video. I have changed it a bit to reflect the true intonation.

Oh! I forgot to mention: This is a Kannada (one of the languages of India) movie but the song is in English.

Food as a memory

Note: This post is inspired by Abaniko who had written about foods that were popular in childhood.

Food by itself is such a subjective thing. No two people can cook the same dish to taste exactly the same. And no two people remember or associate food in the same way. I don’t have any horror stories when it comes to food. (I have heard about Castor oil fiascos. Thankfully, that never happened to me!) I was a non-fussy eater who ate whatever was put in front of her. Regular Bengali food is what we got at home but since I am a probashi Bengali (expat Bong), I also grew up eating the food that was available all around us.

Let me start with a simple homemade dish. At home it is usually dal-bhath (rice and daal) which was accompanied by some torkari (vegetables) but we kids freaked out on alu bhaja (French fries). Nice deeply friend alu bhaja is still a favourite with many. I know my brother has some strict preferences when it came to alu bhaja. For him the perfect alu bhaja should be wheatish in colour – not red, which means it was over fried-, crisp, and non-oily. I had no such preferences. But yes, over fried alu bhaja may taste slightly bitter.

As a child, I couldn’t stomach spicy stuff. I have since grown up to be a major chilli fan. It stood to reason that children would prefer non-spicy stuff, as their delicate constitution would not be able to handle it. But when Mom was exchanged with a very old family friend who lived in the next street it used to be spicy. So I used to ask my Mom why, since I was known to shy away from spicy food. And she gave me a fantastic explanation that I took to be quite a natural process. She said while she was walking with the food in her hand to the next street, a few chillies from the trees fell down and made the food spicy. I didn’t bat an eyelid at this explanation then!

My one major weakness remains rice. I love rice so much that I can eat with just plain without salt or ghee or any other accompaniments. Panta bhaat (yesterday’s rice or stale rice supposedly not as good as fresh rice but I have yet to come across anybody who doesn’t like it) was a special favourite. In Calcutta, where I used to spend my summer holidays, everyone knew this. Consequently, my aunt started calling me Bhaat budi (I shall try to translate this: bhaat is rice, budi means an old woman but is also used to refer to (female) children affectionately. The alliteration makes it sound very good in Bengali.) In fact, when I was very young, my mom used to feed me rice three times a day: for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You can guess: never did I once complain.

Sometimes I was fed dudh-bhaat (milk, rice laced with sugar). It’s another variety of spice-less food. To this dudh-bhaat would be added either kola (banana) or aam (mango) depending on which was in season. Dudh-bhaat-aam/ dudh-bhaat-kola was eaten as the last course in order to cool the body in summer.

Alternatively, chiré (pressed rice) could be substituted for rice and the entire dish would become a snack. Chiré-dudh-aam or Chire-dudh-kola was a summer teatime snack. We still eat them. But this is a slightly heavy snack. If you want a lighter one, the same chiré was fried in mustard oil and garnished with chopped chillies and onions. Chiré bhaja (fried chiré) was ready. Crispy chiré bhaja was eaten all year round. Recently I read in a Bengali recipe book that this was a snack from rural Bengal.

Another staple childhood food (I hasten to add, it still is) apart from the regular maach bhaja (fried fish) is Bhaaté bhaat. Boiled rice with boiled vegetables, which could be either potato, or other seasonal vegetables. The boiled vegetables were kneaded to a smooth consistency to which ghee and/or mustard oil and salt were added. And divided into equal portions for all members of the family. In winter, just looking at the vapours escaping from the hot rice and vegetables gave me enough warmth. Those who loved spices got one kaacha lonka (green chilli) along with the bhaaté bhaat to spice up what some people thought was a bland dish. Sometimes, instead of vegetables, boiled eggs were eaten along with boiled rice with mustard oil/ghee and salt. In times that ghee was not available, butter was used instead though it did have a different taste. Some people preferred butter to ghee. This was considered to be healthy food. So if you have an upset stomach, bhaaté bhaat will be prescribed for you, minus the chilli of course.

Sweets were a standard affair. Here in Chennai no one stocked up on the sweets because they didn’t taste as good as in Calcutta. But there, the refrigerator was chockfull with different kinds of sweets. Rosogolla was always there. Panthua (Gulam jamun) was brought from the neighbourhood mishti dokan (sweet shop). And of course Sandesh! Sometimes when everyone was engaged in adda late into the night, my cousins would need a midnight snack. Rabdri was their preferred sweet.

Sweets were bought from the neighbourhood shop and yet they tasted just like it was made at home. Today, we have moved into an age where fresh food has become a rarity: I saw chats that were packaged. What’s the fun in that? Is jhalmuri/bhelpuri better in a polythene packet? What about pani puri then? Not just snacks, but nowadays even dal and rice are packaged. (I’m not against packaging dal and rice for our soldiers who live in impossible conditions.)

In one sense, Bengali food has fared a bit better than say Punjabi food. All the dishes that I have discussed are made at home. They can’t be found in restaurants. Only recently was Bengali food made available in restaurants. The exoticisation of Bengali food is yet to begin in full spate. And I’m glad for that though I hope it never does. Food is a kind of memory. How will a restaurant package that?

Thanks everyone!

Thanks so much to AquaM, Soumyadip, Rita, Asuph, Abaniko, Naveen, Aristera, Obi Wan, Ron, Jewel and Zee who came by to cheer me up!

Thanks, thanks, thanks! I feel much better after reading all your comments!

Under the weather

Today is one of those days. I’m bluer than blue and can’t think straight. I want to run away from everything but I know I can’t. The feeling is not unlike being trapped. Except I can see, move, talk, smile, walk, eat. But I feel as if I am under the tide of unwanted invisible plastic bags that are slowly chocking me. The weather has nothing to do with it.

Books! Books! Books!

I think I have taken some quotes way too seriously. Like the one that Abaniko brought to my notice today.

When I have money I buy books. If anything is left over, I buy food and clothing.
-Erasmus

Why? Because today my book shelf will groan and protest since three hardcover books will be added to he already existing books.

• Patrick Süskind's Mr.Summer's Story with illustrations by Sempé. The blurb says:

In an althogether unexpected change of pace from the evil flamboyance of his phenomenal Perfume and the Kafkaesque paranoia of The Pigeon, the brilliant German writer Patrick Süskind joins forces with Sempé, the illustrator of New Yorker magazine fame, to bring us a haunting and deceptively simple tale of childhood, innocence lost, and memory as seen in flashback through the eyes of a man now middle aged.

Mr. Summer's Story is, in fact, the story of the child whose path he crosses only fleetingly but whose life - otherwise ordinary in every way - is forever changed by those few moments in time. At the story's conclusion, the enigmatic Mr. Summer, who wanders silently through the countryside and who is heard to utter but one sentence in the entire novel, appears to us as a man both noble and tragic, whose ultimate disappearance remains a mystery - and a secret - to all but the little boy he unknowingly touched long ago.

A timeless and universal fable for children and adults alike.

• The Very Persistent Gappers of Frip by George Sanders and illustrated by Lane Smith

The seaside town of Frip is plagued by gappers -- bright orange, burr-shaped, many-eyed creatures. Well, at least the goats are. When she gets the cold shoulder from all the neighbors, plucky heroine Capable must cope with her gapper invasion single-handedly, and she does so with her own special brand of compassion and resourcefulness.

• Patchwork, Quilting and Appliqué by Amelia Saint George

Best-selling author Amelia Saint George shows you how to make a range of decorative and innovative projects for the home using the traditional skills of patchwork, quilting and appliqué in an exciting, modern way.

A poet that I have discovered recently

Here's Mimi Khalvati, a British-Iranian author who has captured my imagination right now.

Song

I have landed
as if on the wing
of a small plane.

It is a song I have
landed on that barely
feels my weight.

Sky is thick with wishes.
Regrets fall down
like rain.

Visit me.
I am always in
even when the place

looks empty,
even though the locks
are changed.

-----

Loads of thanks to Amardeep Singh for drawing attention to this talented poet.

Of Bengalis, sweaters, hill stations, and monkey caps

I received this article as a forward, which on doing a google search discovered has appeared in the Hindustan Times. I'm afraid I don't know the name of the writer. If anyone does, please do let me know and I will add it to the article.

Update: Thanks so much to the author of this article, Subir Ghosh for the following information. This article appeared in the Hindustan Times on November 19, 2005.

---------------
Thanda lege jabey

One phrase every Bengali worth his sweater has grown up with is thanda lege jabey. It is the ultimate warning of impending doom, an unadulterated form of existentialist advice. Thanda lege jabey. Thou shalt 'catch the cold'.

'Catching the cold' comes easy to Bengalis. It's a skill that's acquiredalmost immediately after birth. Watch a Bengali baby and you would know.Wrapped in layers of warm clothing even if the sun is boiling the mercury, the baby learns quickly that his chances of survival in a Bengali household depends on how tightly he can wrap himself in cotton, linen and wool.

Bengalis have almost romanticised warm clothing, so much so that Bengali art has found eloquent expression in a form of quilt-stitchwork called kantha. I'm sure wool-shearers even in faraway Australia say a silent prayer to Bengalis before the shearing season (if there's any such season). I'm also sure the very thought of Bengalis sends a chill down the spine of many a sheep.

In winter, the quintessential Bengali's outfit puts the polar bear to shame. Packaged in at least seven layers of clothing and the head snuglypacked inside the queerest headgear, the monkey cap, he takes the chill....head on.Easy lies the head that wears the monkey cap. With a pom-pom at the top, it's not just a fashion statement; it's a complete fashion paragraph.

I remember strolling down the Walk of Fame in Hollywood on a pleasantMay evening. My eyes scanned the glittering stars on the asphalt - each anode to a Hollywood heavyweight. Suddenly, my ears caught the unmistakableDoomsday warning - 'thanda lege jabey'. I stood transfixed.The Hollywood Walk of Fame is probably the last place one would like to get caught 'catching the cold'. I turned around. There was this Bengali family braving the American chill. The young brat of the family was adamant that he didn'twant any more clothing but mom wouldn't have any of it - "sweater porey nao Rontu baba, thanda lege jabey." I need not translate that. Mom won, and the family -sweaters et al - posed for a photograph.

For a race that is perpetually running scared of cold weather,Bengalis have a surprising affinity for hill stations.

Probably, warmth of heart is best preserved in shawls, pullovers andcardigans. In an age when you are judged by how cool or uncool you are,the warmth that the kakus, jethus and mashimas exude can melt icebergs.

I wouldn't trade that warmth for any amount of cool.However, the monkeycap may look cool without the pom-pom.

© Hindustan Times and Subir Ghosh, 2005

My latest passions

There is a little-known bookshop - Aries Books it is called - in the gullies of Mylapore (in Chennai) where AquaM and Mrudula took me yesterday. They have three floors of books! What really gave me the kicks was that they have all hardback books for dirt cheap prices and books on theory that I haven't seen anywhere else. Mru helped me pick up a book for a friend of ours who was leaving town. The irony of the matter is that I had a card but no money and AquaM had money and a card but it wouldn't work and Mrudula had no card or money. In short, though Mru and I picked up a book each, we had no money to buy them! The owner was magnanimous enough to say that we can pay later. But we didn't choose that option. Anyway, the walk was really good. A solid 1 and half hours of walking did me good.

Among my other passions, I have just discovered that I wouldn't mind being a book artist. There is this site which tells how.