My Name is Red

There are several notables about this novel. First is the narration. A handful of characters narrate different pieces of the story, thus building a beautiful, continuous piece and at the same time giving their thoughts and opinions. Second is Pamuk's description of sixteenth century Istanbul. Arcane and brilliant at the same time, it rouses in the reader an extremely strong desire to be where the action is. There are numerous stories on painting, art, and illuminating (intertwined within the novel itself), which the characters narrate to put forth a point or express an opinion.

The quest for truth and the fear of profanity leads the master illuminators into unexplored territories, then turning them against one another and eventually to murder. There is heavy debate on style, on whether an miniaturist should sign his own painting, and what form of painting is an affront to Allah and Islam. While each of the master illuminators is proud as a peacock (not to mention how proud they are of their wives' beauty), each is also torn between sticking to the ways of Chinese masters and innovating (switching to Frankish style) to preserve a place for himself.

The story revolves around a manuscript that the Sultan has commissioned, a book that would glorify his reign. There is varied opinion on its style and how provocative it is, resulting in the feud for power, and murders, around which the story revolves. On the whole, a good book, although the language is distasteful at times.

Federer on Clay

I was an ardent tennis fan and Pete Sampras is my favorite. Even after four or five years of his retirement from professional tennis circuit, my loyalty remains unchanged. I still watch and enjoy tennis, so I realize that Roger Federer seems formidable to all his opponents now, perhaps except of course on clay. His recent loss to Nadal at Roland Garros reminded me of Sampras' only semi-final run at French Open in 1996, where he lost to Yevgeny Kafelnikov (it is a solace Kafelnikov eventually went on to win the open). That was a sad moment, because it was the closest he got to the title, unlike Federer, who is a two time finalist. Federer has a lot of great tennis left in him and might still go on to win on clay in the next year or two (unlike Sampras). Once I would have vouched that Sampras' fourteen grand slams was unbeatable. But now I know Federer will beat Sampras' record before he retires, which I am not too happy about. But then, records are meant to be broken and a few years down the line someone else will break Federer's.

List of books I've read

2007:
The name of the Rose - Umberto Eco
Banker to the Poor - Muhammad Yunus
July's People - Nadine Gordimer
My Name is Red - Orhan Pamuk

2006:
Inheritance of Loss - Kiran Desai
One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Dracula - Bram Stoker
Lord of the Flies - William Golding

2005:
One flew over the cuckoo's nest - Ken Kesey
Canary row - John Steinbeck
Sweet Thursday - John Steinbeck
Short stories by American authors
Beloved - Toni Morrison
Things fall apart - Chinua Achebe
The great Gatsby - Scott Fitzgerald
Years of childhood: AKe - Wole Soyinka
Heavier than heaven - Charles R. Cross
Random walk down wall street - Burton G. Malkiel
Trial - Franz Kafka

The Name of the Rose

It's very hard for me to write a fair and personal review on this book. First, because of all the Latin text, which I initially tried to follow by hopping on to the web every now and then. I began to realize I was spending way too much time understanding these (I have more books to read) and so decided to find the meanings of only those phrases that seemed important to me, given the context, or those that occurred repeatedly. Well, it worked (because I finished reading the novel), but I am sure I have missed a great deal in not understanding those beautiful phrases, which convey much more than a reader like me can perceive. Books like these are lot more than a rudimentary plot. Often they express and solicit varied opinions on bigger things like life, its meaning, death or trivial things like sleep, dreams, food etc. At every stage the richness of content and power of words feed to your mind, forcing you to think and form a viewpoint. As for the novel itself, it is sort of firsts to me in some respects. Being my first about early Christianity, it was a great opportunity to read about Franciscans, Benedictines, Papal legations, and monks. The story itself moved at a relatively slow pace giving ample time to absorb these details. The manner in which chapters have been titled is novel. One handicap was that I was unable to visualize their settings and appearances very clearly (although I did surf for images on the web). I plan to watch the movie soon. On the whole, a different kind of book to read. I am still in the process of figuring out the meaning of the final Latin hexameter.

One Hundred Years of Solitude

I read this book over a period of six months. It's not the kind you can't put down. There are so many characters spinning around and so many things happening over such an extended period of time, to comprehend it all takes a while. That multiple characters have same name make it a little more harder. Very thoughtful of the author to have provided a family tree right in the beginning.

It has one of the most beautiful opening lines impressively followed by pages portraying Jose Arcadio Buendia's passion for science. I loved the reference to ice, magnets, earth and its shape, the compass and so on. Unbeatable portrayal of a curious mind. Set in a fictional village Macondo, it traces Buendia's family history over a period of one hundred years. This is my first attempt at reading magical realism and there are parts of this book I thoroughly enjoyed. Somewhere in between, I thought it got a little repetitive with the arrival of Pilar Ternera. However, after a few pages of boredom, it always got interesting, so I had to just hang in there. Since I read this more than a year ago, I am unable to mention finer details. Ursula's character lived for most part of the novel, being a pillar of the huge family from beginning to end. Melquiades' character was like Godfather for the entire Buendia family, continuing to live even after his demise through his parchments. The closing pages are equally absorbing and sound so surreal, especially the sentence

The first of the line is tied to a tree and the last is being eaten by the ants.

It is hard to keep the reader's attention to the variety of events happening to all the Buendias, their sons and daughters, and their offsprings. But Garcia Marquez has achieved the same effortlessly by combining science, history, war, and magical realism. A classic.

Lord of the Flies

"The theme is an attempt to trace the defect of society back to the defect of human nature." -- William Golding

When I started reading 'Lord of the Flies' by William Golding, I was rather amused. In my enthusiasm to get started, I had skipped the introduction by E.M. Forster and was blissfully unaware of the impending twists and turns. I was plain lucky, because I did not know what to expect and as the stage was set, I was getting prepared for a fun filled adventure. Well, needless to say I received pin pricks and huge shocks as I read. The murder of Simon was unexpected and the language used to describe it was subtle, yet intense. I had to read the para thrice to make sure I was understanding it right. I began to realize this was an adventure of a very different kind. Another important feature is the emotions characters are able to evoke. Anger towards Jack, sympathy towards Piggy, and admiration towards Ralph surfaced purely because of the beautiful language. Although I have little patience for pages describing locales, I must admit this one was done in a very engrossing way. Well, I don't wish to let out anything more than I already have.

Through a bunch of eleven or twelve year olds (and some even younger), Golding has proved emphatically how very human we all are. Behind the facade of civilization and development, we are all just animals eventually drifting towards chaos and savagery. It is as if our true self comes to the forefront when devoid of rules. If this is what pre-teens are capable of, I wonder what would happen with adults in the same situation. Would we be more disciplined and rational? I doubt it. A lot more would have happened in the first few pages, I am sure.

Poor child

A poor child
ceases to be a child
for there is no laughter
only the rage to survive
for there is no dream
to dream means color and life
for there is no life.

Rubik's cube

My life was like a pocket cube
unsolved, yet simple
some moves here and some there
I could see the smoke clear.

It turned into a standard cube
as I was finishing my teens
I started judging each face
but things hardly felt in place.

It progressed into a Rubik's revenge
to remind me of all my mistakes
cubes deceived to be where they belong
and gave me a sense of false aplomb.

It is spiraling into a professor's cube
I stare helplessly at new dimensions
that get added at twice the rate I age
tagging along and taking center stage.

I wonder if there is an algorithm to use
deep in my heart I know there is none
my life is meant to be a magic cube
that I will forever try to solve.

On the fast lane

His wagon rushed like a wanton thought
etching its own free course, as his
torpid mind stared through drowsy eyes,
dancing from those shots of spirits.

The wagon found its prey, driving over
drooping bodies and dreamy minds
relieving them of poverty and of life
and leaving behind a few orphans.

His mind was still dancing.

This is for all those people who sleep on pavements and beneath flyovers. Where we wake up to sunshine, they are truly lucky to even count another new day -- not run over by careless drivers.

Title - TBD

Harmless lies and unclaimed mistakes
as a flock of birds, similar in anonymity
screaming thoughts in ranting mind
thick as a stacking column of smoke
nameless fancies and fledgling hopes
making separate trips to lotus land
contained anger and pungent humor
hidden behind a mask of muteness
sprouting ideas and simple questions
like potter's clay that never take a mold
unfounded doubts and modicum of hate
that try to flourish and painlessly revive.

Lost in the humdrum of days and weeks
that spread like an unending fabric, and
struggling to decipher the road ahead.
These short emotions go unheeded,
tangled as the yarn that made the web
like a pile of seeds scattered all over
unless one decides to sprout and
touch the purple cloud.

Just a thought on all those fleeting emotions that cross my mind during the day. Nothing stays long enough, it all changes with the situation. Wanted to capture it in words, but I am really not sure if it's conveying what I want to.

Random flower

This is my first drawing on Adobe Photoshop. It started really random and confused, but eventually I managed to give it some shape. I know there are some visible nicks and cuts, but hopefully next image will be better.

Coke Blak

I got a taste of this new drink today. I have no clue how long it's been in the market, but I purchased a few bottles just two days back. The packaging looked neat and the new dark brown and black bottle was a welcome respite. The drink was not. The ad says it's a fusion beverage, but I'd prefer to call it confusion. It tastes of cola, coffee, hazelnut, and something else that I can't place in my mind right away (although the ad claims "Experience the fusion of coke effervescence with coffee essence"). The last thing it did was inspire my mind, not to mention the headache I had thereafter. The quest to increase market share by an infinitesimal percent and outdo the competitors is giving rise to these terrible concoctions. As I write, I wonder what else is brewing!

Inanimate company

Off late whenever I've had to undertake a long journey alone and by bus (I can't afford air or train travel), I find myself occupying my seat as well as the one next to mine. Either I've stretched my legs, or have some of my belongings on the seat, I am simply looking out of the window scared someone might ask if they can sit next to me, or better still, I have a hostile expression on my face. I've seen other people do it too, and this strategy actually works. I want to make my small home in the bus for those few hours and guard it like my territory. In the company of my ipod and laptop, both of which perform for me, I do not see the need for a person nearby. I know others who prefer cell phones and video games. This is the latest commuting protocol that I've learnt.

It's interesting how travel has changed. When my mother used to travel alone a decade back, she invariably came home with stories about someone she met on the train or bus, how they kept chatting all along, food they exchanged, and much more. She even got their phone numbers at times, though she never called them afterwards. But then she met people and had company.

Despite the facilities and frills attached to travel these days, I really don't know how many people look forward to the 'journey' itself. The attitude is to get over with the time commuting, then relax and
enjoy once the destination is reached. And yes, whether the journey is long or short, we are all hooked and wired.

This post is not about how we've changed or how unfriendly we are. Technology has played a pivotal role in making us the kind of travel companions we are today. It's cool to have all your gadgets in grand display, an assertion that 'I am traveling with my troupe'. Well, just wondering how things will be ten years from now. Would the troupe have more members or would it be disbanded?

Note: Books are not included in this category becasue I strongly feel they have life.

Nature and Physics

Nature is harmony and artistry
that kindles this physicist’s curiosity
she speaks not, nor she observes
she acts of her own free desire, but
has a benign heart to let me watch.
To study what she does is hard
to see how she does is formidable
knowing why she does is impossible.

This is part of a poem I wrote on physics and nature for my copoets at NYU. The other stanzas aren't very beautiful, so I decided not to put them here. I am working on making them better. Perhaps I'll use them in some other poem.

What's in a poem

I recently completed a poetry writing course at NYU. It was indeed an exciting eight week period for me. For a change, I had started looking forward to Thursday evenings.

I learnt a host of poetry terms and poetry forms, which is not what I am going to show off here. There was something much more fundamental missing in my earlier poems and my perception of the whole process of
writing was flawed. Here are a few things I learnt/ observed.

Read your poem aloud - I never used to do this, always muttering the lines under my breath. I never heard how the words sounded or whether they rhymed well. But this new habit gives me a completely different
perspective about my poems. Even by reading it aloud to the four walls, I've rid myself of the fear that someone may read what I write.

Be honest about why you wrote a poem - It's not that I wanted to be dishonest intentionally, but I always thought I should give very valid and concrete reasons as to why a poem came to my mind. What the heck.
It's just a poem and you could write it for any silly reason. I've written many poems only because there were certain words I wanted to use.

Every word is not the same - I am a strong believer in equality, but I have to admit that no two words are the same (even if they are synonyms). Some words are melodious and in harmony with others, while
some are not. For e.g., nozzle, fish are not beautiful words. There's something about them that's not pleasing to my ears. I've realized this and try to avoid using those words which I don't like.

That's all I have to say for now. Later.

As a teen

Profanity was my armor as a teen
I heard it in school - it smelt to me
like blood does to a carnivore,
tasted like my choice dish that
I couldn't let go, so as I used it
I felt in control and saw it as
the start of a revolution in me.

My parents hated me the most
and they felt terror as I spoke.
They loved me more than my sibling
Lu, who went to school in Beijing.
My dad was home on Mondays and
my mom was home on Sundays, so I
stayed quiet two consecutive days.

To rid me during holidays, I was
sent to my grandma's place
I threw my cousin into Lammond bay
so she spread rumors without delay
"Su swore and called God gay", which
upset my grandma so she sent me away.
I will show her it wasn't my mistake.

I was with a cute owl that whole night
when I actually saw a black rose bloom.
The owl tried to make some rose-hip jam
I hit him in the head, called him thug.
"Je suis desole, ne chatier pas moi"
he cried, and light, light the night smiled.
Then I fell off the tree with a smash.

My parents promptly arrived to find
my ankle bruised bad as a rainbow -
red, blue, green and indigo - my naive
cousin of deceit watching with regret.
Soon we hugged and smiled like mates,
made up before I left, but she is a bitch
and I cursed her under my breath.

Those words had life, but I used them so
much they are now old and almost dead
that I've laid my weapons to rest.

This is a sad attempt at Jim Simmerman's twenty little poetry projects. It is a challenging task to combine the projects into one poem.

Time to Smile

Seven hundred and odd smiling faces, and why not?Yes. I'm referring to our MPs indeed. Their pay package is increasing!! Doubled pension, doubled daily allowance (for attending parliament), two cell phones, dozen more air trips a year and much more. And the bill gets passed faster than the Embraer jets that carry our VIPs. Another one against sting operations might get passed soon. They're working tirelessly.Parliamentary affairs minister Priya Ranjan Das Munshi says --

Indian MPs were the lowest paid in the world although they represent the highest
number of people.

So as India's population spirals out of control (1.6B plus by 2050), our MPs are finally beginning to get the dough they deserve.

"If our house functions well, not only salaries but all their allowances should
also be increased. Look at how the private sector pays and look at how MPs get
paid across the world,"

said Rahul Bajaj, Independent MP.I concur completely. Unlike the corporate world, it takes a lot of effort and time to vegetate. This merits some recognition from our side and I'm glad the taxes we pay are helping sustain the homes of these MPs.And then, some MPs also want compensation to be related to performance which, given their history and other pressing issues, will take a long time to implement.

On Lex

I hear the rhythm beside me
like the faint beat of a drum
it flows with the mild breeze
and abruptly ceases, to free
me from my skein of thoughts.

It resumes in a few seconds
once the white man shines
its evenness stands apart
from all the soft voices,
giggles, and clamor around.

I'm focussing on the beat now
but I fear my curiosity may
kill the constancy it shows.
But she walks ahead, not a step
missed as her blue skirt flows.

Between those few blocks I've
heard the rise and fall of strides
before they fade into the subway.


I was on my way to a subway (metro) on Lexington Ave a few weeks back. There was this lady walking near me with such a rhythm in her stride that I was tempted to swing around and take a look. That I did. A few days later when I remembered it, I just scribbled these few lines.

Mind

My mind just created its twin
and they're playing tug-of-war
how I wish one would just win
they're identical, but never concur.

One is here, other is there
and they are both getting stronger
one is happy and the other gloomy
I can feel the increasing polarity.

While one is loving, but despaired
the other loathes, but is inspired.
I know not which one lies, I see
not which one is a friend of mine.

The game goes on and on
can't they sing the same song
be of the same stripe and kind
oh, the ambivalence of my mind.


Contradiction and chaos are integral part of my life. I built this poem around the first two lines because I liked the idea of twin and tug-of-war applied to my mind.

Complete publicity makes it absolutely impossible to govern

Soren Kierkegaard was a famous nineteenth century existentialist philosopher. I understand that much of his works relate to religion, ethics, theology etc. I have not much idea about the political system in Denmark in the nineteenth century or the context in which Kierkegaard made this statement -

Complete publicity makes it absolutely impossible to govern.

However, I feel these few words render themselves very apt in today's politics and governance.
Publicity as I interpret here is the condition of making known or aware, rather than advertising or promoting something. Post self-promotion phase (manifestos, campaigning), any new government usually falls silent abruptly - as if stupefied by their own victory. Anyway, on a more serious note, a governing body needs privacy during various stages of their functioning, which is available to them. They have no obligation to make public their day-to-day discussions, and all those brain-storming en route to any final decision (it would show them in a very bad light). But there is a host of information a governing body receives at various levels, in varied forms classified as social, legal, economic, political etc. This is presented to the public in a suitable way on a need to know basis, which is justified. For instance, any confidential information they receive on an impending terrorist attack or a similar event is best handled by cautioning rather than declare openly and struggle to handle the chaos it creates, along with averting the disaster in waiting. Any nuclear test conducted is best kept a secret until completed. These are just two instances that come to my mind, concerning security. A host of other less critical news reaches the public after a lag.

There is another side to this discussion, albeit slightly out of context. Unfortunately, our government is not very discerning on this front - which news to leak and which one to conceal. There's also a tinge of indifference here. That's why Satyendra Dubey was brutally assassinated when he blew the whistle on the Golden Quadrilateral corruption. Apart from security of the state, the government should also be keen enough not to leak any information which puts a civilian in jeopardy. It's time to consider implementing some form of Whistleblower Law, because an individual citizen's security is also a foremost responsibility of the state.

To conclude, in today's situation, the government reserves every right to keep certain information confidential. At the same time, they need to apply keen judgement to determine when and how something of classified nature is headlined, which is equally important.