Category: Travelogue

  • 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.

  • Chasing the Monk’s Shadow

    Mishi Saran

    There are some books that one wishes went on forever, for the vicarious experience offered is incredible. This is one of those. Long after the pages have been completed, the journey promises to stay in my mind.

    It is now exactly a decade since Mishi Saran started on her journey – to follow a monk who had himself made a journey of over 10000 miles, 14 centuries before her time. Xuanzang, who I last met in my history text from school, the monk with the neat backpack.

    The book hooked me right from the time the author described how she found a purpose – “an Indian woman with a Chinese craze, a Chinese monk with an Indian obsession, we had the same schizophrenia, the monk and I. It seemed logical to take the same road.”

    The best journeys are those which traverse time and space in one stroke, and that’s exactly what this book does. Though in many ways, it could be described as a travelogue too, that would be utterly unfair. It is very much a personal journey for the author, a search for her roots, and identity.

    As Mishi Saran travels across China and Central Asia, following Xuanzang’s path, her vivid prose blurs the boundaries that have been created in the modern era, and its easy to see the influence of ancient civilisations and regimes influence art, architecture, language, customs and thus life itself. And at the edges, where its not just cultures that collide, but religions too, as they are reshaped or recast in different moulds – Islam, Buddhism, Sufism…

    The writing style forces one to make the journey with her, and I could see that there were actually three journeys unraveling simultaneously – the author, the monk, and the Buddha himself. All of them journeys with a purpose.

    And amidst all the eloquence, it has obviously been a journey that required grit and courage.. And luck, which many a time failed the author. From places where children going to school needed visas and permits, to the posturing of a few contemporary students of Buddhism, to the origins of words that are still used in common parlance, and characters which seem to leap out of history pages – Ashoka, Kanishka, Chandragupta, the pages hold in them, tangential journeys for the reader.

    The last part of the book, where the author gets to (almost) finally visit the territories crossed by Xuanzang in Afghanistan, is written a month before 9/11, and gives us a gripping account of Afghanistan under the Taliban, with glimpses of people who have perhaps yet to find peace. “I believed him. It was hard not to believe a man when you were standing in front of his blown-up home and staring at the ruins of his life. Whatever the story was, this was his truth.” Unlike fiction, one cannot console the self that the person and his story are imaginary. The last part of the journey does not add a lot with respect to the purpose of the book, but it’s a part that I’m glad the author chose to add here.

    As a reader, I could relate to the author’s words in the last page “…I understood less, not more…. I had acquired this sadness”, and that is what makes this book one of the best I’ve read.

  • Butter Chicken in Ludhiana: Travels in Small Town India

    Pankaj Mishra

    If one were to go by the title, Pankaj Mishra is hardly the person who can be trusted to write about the “national bird of khalistan”, after all he’s a complete vegetarian, but then this book is about ‘travels in small town India’. From Kanyakumari and Kottayam to Ambala and Murshidabad and Gaya to Mandi and Udaipur and many many more small towns across the length and breadth of India, this is quite a wonderful account of a transforming India..and Indians.(set in 1995)

    While there is an unmistakable cynicism that runs through many accounts, it does not really take away much from the conversations with a wide array of people – their fears, their hopes and aspirations, and how they cope with the changes around them. Television viewing habits, consumerism, big dreams, all figure as a framework for the author to show the ‘progress’ that Indians seem to be making as far as lifestyles go. ‘Progress’, because the author doesn’t seem to be entirely pleased with these changes, and the effects on existing ways of life, but since we also see them through the eyes of the people the author meets, the book manages to retain some objectivity.

    While some would say there is an aimlessness to the travels, I’d say that despite the differences in locales and attitudes, there is a common thread that runs through the book – of humans, their reactions to change, and how in many ways, a lot of things remain unchanged, despite what the superficial would indicate.

    The book worked for me in many ways – I could find glimpses of ‘The Romantics’ (a later work of fiction from the same author, which happens to be a favourite) as his travels take him to Banaras. It also brought about some nostalgia, as it is set in the early 90s, and the changes that the author talks about are something that anyone in the their teens (or even older) during that time, can identify with. These, and the wry humour – especially the part where he’s mistaken for a potential groom by Mr.Sharma in Ambala – that surfaces occasionally, took it many notches above a general travel book..

  • Kerala Kerala, Quite Contrary

    This is an anthology of 26 works, edited by Shinie Antony, who also contributes a few as author, interviewer and chronicler. The title, IMHO, is a bit misleading since the works themselves, while touching upon various aspects of life in the state or offering perspectives on its history, culture or working as travelogues, do not attempt to bring out the contrary nature, in whatever form that’s meant. Different individuals’ point of view, does that make a collection ‘contrary’? I’m not so sure. To be fair, a couple of works do attempt to show the contrary nature of the state and its residents, but that’s in isolation, and anyway are not enough in number to justify the title.
    Having said that, there are quite a few which I immensely liked. Will mention those (in the order in which they appear in the book)
    Odd Morning by Susan Visvanathan. I’ve always been a fan of her work after I read ‘Something Barely Remembered’. There’s something that’s wistful and haunting about the way she writes, and this piece follows that style.
    William Dalrymple’s “The Strange Sisters of Mannarkad” is quite enlightening, and has a fascinating theme of religion and legend.
    Anita Nair’s “Orhan Pamuk, Nair and I” is a wonderful short story that explores the psyche of Kerala’s writers and critics.
    “The Argumentative Malayali” by D.Vijayamohan perhaps best justifies the book’s title, as it captures Kerala’s unique stance on global and national issues. As a malayali, I’d say that his observation and insights are spot on. Anti-communist? Probably, but I can’t blame him. For me, its one of the best works in the book.
    S S Lal’s “A medicine that cannot be prescribed” is the kind of short story I love. The perfect mix of food for thought and a mild twist in the tale, that makes a perfect ending.
    “Sitrep Seventies” by Hormis Tharakan is perhaps the strongest contender for the best work in the book. While I was mildly puzzled by the way the piece started, the way it swept across centuries and the lifestream nature of the work grew on me, and its amazing insights on law and human nature just raised it to a whole new level.
    Shreekumar Varma’s “Fort Lines” is a story anyone who has lived in the state, or visited on a ‘wrong day’ can absolutely identify with. I wish the kind of cosmic justice that appeared in the work happened in real life too!!
    “No Sex Please, We have cable” by Suresh Menon ended up as my favourite work. The humour is amazing, and I could easily identify the way a place changes or remains the same depending on what you’re looking for.
    Nimz Dean, all of 13 years old is the youngest contributor at “The Gift”, and the 2 page work definitely shows promise. 🙂
    Shashi Tharoor uses all of his skills to make a passionate case for Kerala and investments in the state in “Building Brand Kerala”. A well written piece but having lived there most of my life, and having worked there for some and having seen enough hartals in the recent past , I am not convinced.
    “Happy” by Omana (as told to Shinie Antony) is amazing food for thought material, and is a fine ending to the book.

    So that’s about 11 out of 26, which are really good works, and a few others could work for you depending on your interests. 🙂