Tag: Books

  • Books and Labels

    Not sure if a lot of people do this, but sometimes I ‘drag’ my reading. Not because the book is boring, but just because I want it to go on for some more time. πŸ™‚

    The last recipient of this treatment was Pico Iyer’s “The Lady and the Monk”, which is part travelogue, part human journey, part Zen primer, part romance and possibly several other things too. I think this book will come up many times in this blog in future too, because it gave me multiple feed (foods didn’t sound right) for thought.

    Among other things, it has left me with a great interest for the Zen school of Buddhism. I have started looking for more information on that. Meanwhile, in the book was this guy who had a seemingly simplistic approach to ‘labeling’ things – ‘necessary’, ‘useful’ and ‘useless’. When I think about the things I own/ am passionate about/ spend a lot of time on, and try to categorise it on those labels, it gives tremendous perspective, and I wonder if applying these labels regularly and mindfully would make me more, or less human. Try it out πŸ™‚

    until next time, non zens?

  • Destination Nowhere

    My reading habits are quite predictable, and as with most of my habits, they become more concrete over a period of time. I pessimistically call it building my own prison walls, and the statement works across contexts. πŸ™‚

    But sometimes I rebel against this. In the case of reading, one of the things I do while shopping is to consciously choose a book that I wouldn’t normally read, or better still, I let D choose a few books. But a better disruption happens during Kerala trips. At D’s parents’ home, I pick up a random book which I normally wouldn’t go anywhere near, and finish it. This time it happened to be Randy Pausch‘s ‘The Last Lecture‘. To give you a quick perspective, the book is based on the last lecture given by Randy Pausch at Carnegie Mellon, and adding to the University’s aim of “what wisdom would you share with the world if it was your last chance?”, he also makes it a message to his young children, since he has been diagnosed with a terminal illness.

    In many ways, though personal, it’s the typical inspirational book, but several parts interested me. At one level, the author’s penchant for following childhood dreams struck a chord with me, for I have always entertained a notion that our childhood aspirations are instinctive and free of the baggage of later life. In that sense, it’s perhaps closest to what we’re really meant to do. Debatable, but it’s a belief nevertheless. πŸ™‚ The professor also gives perspectives on following dreams, and the roadblocks one might encounter. He believes that ‘brick walls’ are there for a reason – to see if you really want something bad enough.

    Later in the trip, we visited Cochin’s contribution to the country’s ever growing mall list – Oberon Mall, to catch a movie at Cinemax – Mammootty’s ‘Best Actor’. The story of a man who while working as a Hindi teacher to fulfill his familial responsibilities, believes that he is destined to be an actor, despite his age and the mocking attitude of several around him. (slight spoiler) In a desperate last ditch attempt, he takes the unintentional advice of a film crew (how Vivek Oberoi landed a role in Company) and becomes part of a street gang to ‘learn’ his role the real way. As is his wont these days, Mammootty excels in a role and the script gives him enough ammunition. Ranjith, playing himself, advises Mammootty’s character, and tells him that if he has decided to become an actor, then actor he will be.

    I’m a sucker for cosmic message theories and two random works seemed to be giving me the same message. My problem though, is a step behind. I am yet to find what I really want from life – the one thing that will drive me, the thing I am born to do. Almost everything I do these days is an attempt to crack that question. I am also constantly seeking out Dutch uncles (another term learned from the book) to give me perspectives on brick walls and a kind of laziness I blame myself for.

    Funnily, I also received contradictory messages – a random link shared by someone – Osho’s talk on anger and not desiring (so) intensely and later (via Surekha, who now believes that irrespective of destiny, my destination is the Himalayas πŸ˜€ ) Chinmayananda’s talk on the journey being the goal.

    As always, this Kerala journey too gave me much food for thought. But Randy Pausch’s poignant line reminds me “Time is all you have. And you may find one day that you have less than you think”

    until next time, time tableau

  • Taking the fall

    ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ is probably a book I might have related to a whole lot better if I’d read it a few years back. Ok, probably a decade πŸ™‚ Be that as it may, it still has areas which still appealed to me.. a lot. One of them is this segment of the conversation between Holden, the protagonist and narrator and his (earlier) English teacher Mr.Antolini.

    This fall I think you’re riding for, its a special kind of fall, a horrible kind. The man falling isn’t permitted to feel or hear himself hit bottom. He just keeps falling and falling. The whole arrangement is designed for men who, at some or other time in their lives, were looking for something their own environment couldn’t supply them with. Or they thought their own environment couldn’t supply them with. So they gave up looking. They gave it up before they really even got it started.

    and later in the conversation

    …if you want to, and if you look for it and wait for it – to the kind of information that will be very very dear to your heart. Among other things, you’ll find that you’re not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behaviour. You’re by no means alone on that score, you’ll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily some of them kept records of their troubles. You’ll learn from them – if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It’s a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn’t education. It’s history. It’s poetry.

    Sometimes, I can identify with the first, and thanks to the internet and the life streams that I come across, sometimes, luckily, the second too. πŸ™‚

    until next time, there’s no catch πŸ™‚

  • Decision Faker

    Of all the books I’ve recentlyΒ  read, one I liked immensely was Thrity Umrigar’s “First Darling of the Morning”. Some of it had to do with her wonderful articulation of the pop culture phenomena close to my generation, some of it had to do with her personal traits, which I could identify with (“The more silent and introspective I grew from the inside, the more smart-alecky and verbal I felt compelled to be“), and a lot of it had to do with her honest portrayal of human relationships – their gray areas, their changing nature with time, and many such nuances. Will put up a review here soon.

    One of the things that made me think was this

    And finally, I know that the world still belongs to the adults, and although, in their kindness and mercy they may pretend to share it with us, ultimately it is still their world. It is they who decide when we are old enough to stop playing with dolls, when we should give away toys that they’ve decided we’ve outgrown……”

    I tried to think back to the first decision I had ever gotten to make by myself, but I couldn’t think that far back.Β  I remembered the days in engineering college – love, politics, future plans, all of which were perhaps my decisions. I also remember getting back from GIM and feeling exactly the way the author describes her last days in college.

    I am nowhere close to being ready to be anything but a college student. The world suddenly feels too big a place for me to navigate.

    And then it dawned on me, that however much I’d like to think that decisions are my own, they perhaps aren’t. There’s always a set of people who play a role in the decisions, directly or indirectly, influencing the outcome. But the decisions are made, for better, or worse. In her acknowledgment, the author uses a phrase “Thank God we don’t get what we deserve in life”.

    When i see ‘kids’ these days, this one for example, or N, and the seeming ease with which they take decisions and handle themselves, I wonder if its a generation thing or a personality thing. Even at this age, there are days when, just before I sleep, I wish I could go back to those times, when by the time I got up, my parents/ grandmother would have fixed the mammoth problem that had seemed so future-threatening to me the night before. These days, I wonder if they ever felt all grown up and in control, or were they just pretending, like I doΒ  many a time now.

    until next time, deservedly so.

  • Storied

    The best thing about buying second hand books is that they might contain stories. No, I haven’t completely lost it, I meant additional stories. Messages, notes on the side, bookmarks from previous owners – they’re all stories. Stories that give you a tiny glimpse of the person who wrote it, or the person it was meant for. The last one I saw – in Pico Iyer’s ‘Abandon’, was very interesting. It said

    Dearest A****,

    Though this seems, and is the last day at C-72, I promise that its the first day and a nev be start to the best days of our life together.

    Yours

    S*******

    30/Aug/03

    I thought there was an amazing sense of romance in that little note. A story from almost seven years back. I wonder why A sold the book. Did they break up? Maybe she didn’t like this genre? Maybe they shifted, and there was no way to carry this. It was an empty page, A could’ve torn it off, she didn’t. Maybe she didn’t have time, maybe she didn’t care.Β  Maybe she didn’t remember. Maybe, God forbid, something happened, and S didn’t want any memories? MaybeΒ  she returned it to S after they split, and he sold it. Maybe S never gave it to A, and instead sold it because some memory was too painful? Now you see the possibilities? But, to quote from the book itself “We are no greater than the height of our perceptions”.

    I’d only started on the book, but it had already given me a thought. “The death of the author is a way of talking about the death of God. The world itself becomes a poem whose author disappeared long ago.” So the poet dies, the poem remains, the artist dies, the art remains, the author dies, the book remains, God dies, his creation remains, to be interpreted and shaped by us, the ones who see and experience it, limited by the ‘height of their perception’. Maybe the creation was never completed? Like the stories that remain in the head, never to be told. Like the pages that fill the waste baskets. Like the blog’s draft folder? πŸ™‚

    Meanwhile, on the next page of the book, there is a signature now, dated 10/04/10. He thinks he won’t sell any of his books.. ever. But then, stories have a way of twisting themselves in time. πŸ™‚

    until next time, home pages πŸ™‚