Category: Favourites

  • The Algebra of Infinite Justice

    Arundhati Roy

    For a few years now, I have heard everyone – from sections of media to people in my social stream call Arundhati Roy everything from a Naxalite lover to a development hater to a deranged person, the last instance during the happenings in Kashmir. In fact, these days whenever there’s an issue of national interest with a scope for polarised opinions, I find many people asking about her take, just so they can heap more ridicule. And though I have never really been a fan of her award winning work of fiction, I have admitted to myself, and to a few of my friends, that I have found it difficult to objectively fault her arguments. After reading this book, I have realised why it is easy to hate her – she holds up a mirror in front of us, the kind of mirror that tells us how our apathy and desire to follow the path of least resistance is responsible for the larger problems we see around us.

    And she does that not just in some moral high ground, philosophising sort of way. She does so with historical perspectives and economical contexts and most importantly, hard data. And therefore, it is not easy to ignore her when she talks about the Narmada Bachao Andolan, the costs of what we call progress and the greater common good, the background games played behind the ‘developmental’ activities we see around us, America’s war against terror, the beginnings of fascism in India and how all of these are linked. The writer in her is in full flow, using sarcasm and wit to telling effect, to (ironically) show the seriousness of the issue. There is something very vulnerable about her when she talks about her dislike for the ‘writer-activist’ label.

    So the next time, I hear something said against her, I am going to ask the person if he/she has read this book. They may not agree with her, but at least this will give them perspective and basis their interest, they can look for counter arguments. What I seek from them is exactly what I seek from myself – an acknowledgment of one’s own role in the issues of today and developing the strength to not look away.

  • The Pregnant King

    Devdutt Pattanaik

    ‘The Pregnant King’ is Devdutt Pattanaik’s first work of fiction, in which he takes the story of Yuvanashva and distorts the timeframes to juxtapose it with characters in the Mahabharata, whereas in reality, the tale of Yuvanashva is recounted twice in the epic, as one predating it by many generations.

    Yuvanashva’s tale is special in at least two ways – it involves his mother Shilavati who possesses all the qualities to be a king, but cannot, only because she is a woman and Yuvanashva himself, king of Vallabhi, who accidentally drinks a potion meant for his queens (for them to become pregnant) and gives birth to a son. Is he the child’s father or mother, that is the answer Yuvanshva seeks. By bringing in various characters like Shikhandi, born a girl, but who uses a Yaksha’s masculinity to become a man, Somvat, who becomes Somvati during the course of a night by exchanging his gender with the yaksha, Arjuna, who lives for a year as a woman courtesy Urvashi’s curse, Ileshwara/i whose gender changes with the moon’s cycles and Adi-natha himself, seen as a hermit and a nymph, the author manages to not just show the nature of gender roles but also gives profound perspectives on dharma – its rigidity and fluidity, the dynamic nature of matter and the static nature of the soul, its various symbolism, and ‘the imperfection of the human condition’.

    This is an amazing read, and that’s not just because I am really interested in mythology. Ancient in origin, and contemporary in narration, the questions it raises belong to a different era and yet manifest themselves now in another form.

  • Nine Lives: In Search of the Sacred in Modern India

    William Dalrymple

    In his introduction to the book, William Dalrymple explains how he has tried to invert the travel writing style of the eighties, highlighting the subject and relegating the narrator and his journey to the shadows. And that’s how this book manages to be a set of nine mini-biographies that are linked by the book’s tagline – ‘In Search of the Sacred in Modern India’. Each ‘story’ not only manages to show the protagonist, his/her belief systems, trade/artform in the context of a region that’s rapidly changing the way it looks at religion, spirituality and the world in general, but also manages to trace its (artform/trade) evolution across the centuries of its existence, and the inividual’s outlook towards his own journey. In that sense, it is also my favourite kind of travel writing – across time.

    From Kerala to Dharmasala and Tarapith to Sehwan, the characters flow, and though all of them are interesting in their own way, my favourites were the ‘The Singer of Epics’ – the story of a bhopa in Rajasthan, and “The Monk’s Tale”, the story of a Buddhist monk who takes up arms against the Chinese, is then forced to fight for the Bangladeshis against Pakistan and finally spends his last years in Dharmasala atoning for his acts by hand printing prayer flags.

    The narrative and the prose make the book very accessible, and the only concern I had was whether the author had let romanticism affect the truth of the stories a tiny bit. A great read.

  • The Lady and the Monk: Four Seasons in Kyoto

    Pico Iyer

    In the autumn of 1987, Pico Iyer begins his journey into Japan, one that would last a full cycle of seasons. Depending on the prism you choose to see it through, the book could be many things.

    It could be a travelogue, though quite different from any I have read yet, and yet one that not only dispels any ‘second-hand’ notions (eg. the Japanese’ take on Kurosawa was surprising) but also captures the nuances of a place unknown to me, in a very sensitive manner.

    It could be the journey and yearning of one human being to understand and experience a culture alien to him/her. Him, from the perspective of Pico in Japan, whose original wonder and positive bias changes into a more pragmatic view as time passes, and her, from the perspective of Sanchiko, a vivacious Japanese lady with a husband and two children, whose heartfelt desire it is to escape the confines and constraints of her culture and upbringing.

    It could be a glimpse into the world of Zen – its monasteries and about living in the moment, without the baggage of the past or the future.

    It could be a relationship between cultures – not just east and west, as shown between the author and Sanchiko or other nuances captured through various other characters, but also within Japan itself – the free spirited Sanchiko versus her friends and family who are against this freedom she desires and wants her to just make the best of her marriage and the duties it entails.

    Or it could be an elegant love story, with Japanese poetry and beautiful descriptions of nature, and in the way of Japanese, one with a poignant ending, just like the story which seems to be the inspiration for the title.

    A wonderful read, and an armchair journey that has given me much to think about.

  • Right of Passage : Travels from Brooklyn to Bali

    Rahul Jacob

    While there is indeed a lot of travel that’s showcased in the book, I think it goes beyond that. The first section consists of travelogues and when I started comparing them to others in the genre, I felt they fell woefully short, at least in terms of the sheer amounts of vivid descriptive prose I am used to. That’s until I realised that I had to change my notions of travel writing to get adjusted to the snapshot style that takes the reader quickly from Bali to Rome and Santa Fe to Madhya Pradesh. The other great part about this section is that it also serves as an excellent guide, complete with phone numbers and websites.

    The second section, which focuses on Asia, though (almost of) the same length as the earlier ones, takes you a little more into what makes a place tick. This is the part that focuses more on how cities have grown (and are growing) than the actual places to see. It shows the influence of people, culture and nature and their interplay in creating the character of a place.

    But I think my favourite section would be the third, titled ‘Confessions of a Frequent Flyer’, which has an enriching mix of personal experiences and sometimes, the philosophy of travel, views on hotel stays and some excellent anecdotes.

    For bibliophiles, the next section titled ‘Close Encounters’ would be a treat as Rahul Jacob writes about the meetings with authors like Yann Martel, Vikram Seth etc and goes beyond what they write to their philosophies in life.

    The last section is more of a showcase of Britain – London in particular, and your interest would vary depending on the subject itself. But it does offer a great deal of insight nevertheless on the recent evolution of London as a truly cosmopolitan city.

    Its a wonderful read and though it might differ from the standard formats of travel writing, it will definitely take you on a journey that you’ll enjoy.