Author: manuscrypts

  • The Catcher In The Rye

    JD Salinger

    Its perhaps a book that I should’ve read a decade and a half back, only because I could’ve related more then to the angst that permeates it. The timeframe and the narrative style would make the work seem small in scope – the book is set in about three days (not counting the recollections) and is told from the point of view of a teenage boy, who has just been expelled from his school (not for the first time) and instead of going home, spends the next few nights in a seedy hotel.
    But what makes this book unique is Holden Caulfield’s (the protagonist and narrator) way of distilling the thoughts and emotions of a teenager and making you feel for him. Indeed, there are many moments in the book that made me feel infinitely sad, though the ending seems to indicate that this is only a phase in life.
    The title is based on Holden’s mishearing of a poem by Robert Burns – Comin’ Through The Rye. Holden creates a fantasy on it – with himself being the guardian of kids who are playing in a rye field on the edge of a cliff, entrusted with the task of saving them if they are in danger of falling off.
    His attitude towards children – his sister Phoebe in specific, and adults would seem to indicate that he understands that at some point, kids will lose the qualities he likes them for (which are missing in adults) and he wants to be the heroic figure to prevent this from happening. A turning point in this role is his conversation with an English teacher of his – Mr.Antolini, who says that the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for a cause while an immature man would die nobly for it. Later Holden gives Phoebe his hunting hat, probably the symbol of his catcher identity.
    Its probably a book you need to be patient with (though its only about 190 pages) since (I felt) its only towards the end that Holden really manages to suck you into the idea of the book.

  • The masks we wear

    In TDKR, there is an interesting conversation between John Blake and Bruce Wayne, during which the former says that he knows Bruce is the Batman. He then talks of how he does not remember his mother’s death, but remembers his father’s murder well, and that the anger stayed with him. People understand, he says, but they don’t really know. They understand for a while, and they expected him to move on, to let go of the anger.  But he couldn’t do it, and when people realised that, he was sent to therapy and foster homes.

    He realised in time that for people to accept him, he would need to wear a mask that would hide his anger. He reveals that when Bruce visited the boys’ home he lived at years back, he immediately recognised that Bruce was Batman, because he himself wore a mask.

    Thanks to various experiences, I think all of us wear masks. Some of them are not because of experience, but for acceptance among others. Either ways, it works as a coping mechanism, and depending on our skills, at various levels of invisibility to those around us. Sometimes we are conscious of the mask and try to reach a place where we can live without them, by becoming strong enough to either face the past or deal with ‘acceptance’ on our own terms. Yet, despite those efforts, many a time, circumstances are such that the mask becomes the man, consciously or unconsciously. Whether or not that is a good thing is completely context dependent.

    But sometimes we are able to move on, just as Bruce was, embracing aspects of the Batman mask into his own personality. Or maybe it’s the other way – Bruce being a mask that the ‘true’ Batman personality wore. 🙂

    until next time, masker aid

  • Chianti

    D’s organisational duties and my laziness conspired to make sure that we had a ‘home’ match. Thanks to Zomato, we came to know about Chianti. It’s on the road that goes from Sukh Sagar on 100 feet Road in Koramangala towards Jyoti Nivas. (map) You can’t miss the orange sign on the left. This, I thought, is probably how Nepal feels like – India  (Sukh Sagar) towards its south and China to the north (Beijing Bites, Mainland China) They have valet parking and two-wheelers can go underground.

    You can either watch the world go by or enjoy air conditioning. We chose the former, though the brick wall and the chandeliers inside looked very inviting. We were given a DIY Bruschetta (no, it’s not Mallu) on arrival, even as we checked the menu. In that order, we rubbed (on the bread) garlic, basil, (fold first) tomatoes, and then added salt and pepper and the olive oil, but they won’t chuck you out if you tried any other order. 🙂

     

    On the paid part, we started with a Crema di Funghi and D used puppy eyes on the person who took the order, and asked for chicken to be added.  He seemed familiar, and it turned out that we had seen him at Fiorano. Same owner, apparently. Though we were told that the chicken would be added, the chicken didn’t get the memo. But the soup was thick and creamy and quite a good dish otherwise. A complimentary bread basket arrived too, and I quite liked the dip that they provided with it. For the main course, I tried to nudge D towards a thin crust pizza but she refused to bite. So we ended up with D’s Cannelloni (Beef Ragu version) and my Tagliatelle Prosciutto e Funghi. I ordered it partly because it reminded me of the Tattaglia family in The Godfather, who make attempts on Don Corleone’s life because he wouldn’t partner them in the heroin business, nor allow them to trade in it (hint hint) and partly because it had a creamy sauce and ham! D’s dish turned out to be a bit too tangy for her liking though she did like the Ricotta cheese and the overall taste. The other dish was heavy and a bit salty, though I loved the ham in it. We also had a Red Wine Sangria which we quite liked.

     

    The service is friendly, but are a bit over eager in asking for our opinions. (not the person who took our order) The meal cost us Rs. 1548 inclusive of charges and tax. Considering the location and the cuisine, I’d say it’s fair. It’s not the place you go to if you’re in a hurry. Sit back, enjoy the food and the wine, and watch the world go by.

    Chianti Ristorante & Wine Bar, #12, 5th A Block, Koramangala, Ph: 41132021/4

  • Naming exercise

    The alarm rang, as it did, usually. He snoozed, stretching his sleep time a bit. But he knew he would have to get up soon. He was already late for his other kind of stretching. That’s when he figured the alternate reason for the name of the new concept they had come up with – Yogalates!

    PS: Yes yes, pronunciation, I know!

  • A Silence of Desire

    Kamala Markandaya

    ‘A Silence of Desire’ is seemingly about the turmoils in the life of a government clerk, after his routine is shattered one day when he finds his wife missing when he returns home from work. Furthermore, he also realises later that the reason she had given for her absence was not the truth. He suspects his wife of infidelity. Much flustered, and not helped by the discussions happening in his office on the social mores of womenfolk, he follows her and finds out something, which to him becomes a more painful thing to bear than what he had initially suspected his wife of. His structured life then goes through a turbulence, as his personal problems begins to affect his work, and even his character undergoes a change.

    What makes the book interesting is how the author uses the family to show the upheaval that happened in Indian society after the British left. The spirituality and faith of the traditional Indian housewife collides with the scientific and rational mindset of her British trained husband. The father is disturbed that his teenaged daughter would go to the ‘milk bar’ with a male friend, even if its in a group. There is even some reference to the conflict between north and south indian civil servants because of their varying approach to problems and fellow workers.

    Even as the author manages to create a microcosm of the changes that were sweeping Indian society, her narrative and prose manage to bring out the human aspect in a very convincing manner.