Maliny Mohan's Blog, page 5

Of Bygones And Those Forgotten Treasures- Mid Week Quests

I am coupling today’s Mid Week Quests with a Throw back gesture. This is a post I wrote two years back and I still hold these thoughts close to my heart. I hope the post is worth sharing here one more time.

Chasing Passions

A Tharavadu In Kerala . Image Source : here

My mother’s ancestral house (Tharavadu ) , a formidable building encased in a vast area of land , is tucked away in a remote village in Quilon district , which happens to be barely two hours from the city I reside .  As was the general norm a few decades back , my mother used to co – inhabit the house with her parents , cousins , nephews , nieces and grandparents , and as she reminisces  to this day , sans doubt , they used to have an enticing life in all its pomp and splendour . The older women of the house helmed the kitchen , while adolescent girls of my mother’s age caressed their babies and adorned them with every piece of fancy ornament they could get their hands on . A few exuberant male members took charge…

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Excerpt- Second Chance : Saturday Specifics

So, I thought today I would publish here an excerpt from the manuscript I am working on at present. This would, roughly speaking, be the second or third draft and I feel that I still need to garnish it at places before it is brought out in the truest sense to be devoured. If you have stumbled upon this page, please feel free to go through this and leave behind your feed backs. I would love to hear from you. 

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Second Chance-A short Story

Kartik worked as an office boy at a software company which was still in its inception stage. The better salary that he was offered, despite the fact that they had just started functioning had lured him into leaving his previous job as a conductor for a private bus owner.

 The office was accommodated in a three bedroom apartment in the heart of Mumbai. The atmosphere inside the office was comfortable and relaxed. There weren’t stringent rules or implicit motives like in many other establishments to disrupt the enviable amount of peace that prevailed inside. In fact, most of the workers in that office considered him as their companion or a confidant in many regards. They helped each other through the vagaries of their lives sans complaints.

 When the officers unexpectedly run out of cigarettes, Kartik made sure that he ran to the nearby shop to buy them fresh packets; he was the one who brought them lunch from the restaurant downstairs; he offered to drop them off at their apartments in his scooter if any of their cars broke down- the list was endless and in return they addressed him affectionately as Bhaiyya and celebrated his birthdays at the office, when there would be a cake cutting ceremony during the office hours and a party at the local pub late at night. They granted him bonus from their pockets during major festivals and once even bought him fresh piece of cloth to stitch a new pair of pants.

Today, as he sat stooped down on his table near the water purifier, Kartik could feel droplets of sweat collecting on his temple. The rumble of the air conditioner resonated with his emotions, lending an unpleasant rhythm to his thoughts.

‘You should try this at least once in your lifetime, Bhaiyya,’ Rakesh, the friendliest one in the pack had whispered it in his ears the previous day. Since then a recurring thought had been meddling with his peace of mind day in and day out for he was tempted enough to give it a try.

He had seen this place where his petulant mind demanded to go. The building was not conspicuous but sandwiched between two hardware shops in the busiest street of the city. People hustled in and out of the street at all times of the day, making the process of insinuating into the building hassle free. There was even a back door, which could be approached if one stepped onto the alley beside the street, although sailing past the same would be the hardest thing anyone could conjure to do for it had constantly kept its repertoire as the ugliest and the most stinking alley of the city, if not the whole world.

‘He would take the alley,’ Karthik decided. He couldn’t pave way for any risk, for he was a middle aged man who had lived a half of his life sans a smudge in his reputation.

~~

The walk through the alley was horrid to say the least. The air was infested with fleas which seemed attracted to him by his mere presence. Mounds of garbage flanked the path, which would be an undeniable source of the many infectious diseases that stifled the people of the city often. The atmosphere was stuffed with a repulsive stench, which started growing unbearable as Kartik moved closer and closer to his destination. Steering free of the fleas and the mosquitoes that yearned to attack him ferociously, he found himself standing at the summit of the tall row of steps that led to the place he was headed to.

~~~~~

 

P.S: This post is tagged with ‘Saturday Specifics’, a sub section of this blog where I put up something creative- a story, poem, haiku, Flash Fiction or a Book Review.

Gateway To The Past – Mid Week Quests

There is a small, beautiful, golden glazed, ornamental light fitting that unassumingly adorns the wall of my bedroom. It has been there since the day we moved in here fifteen years back. I remember gazing at the sheer, sufficing beauty of the masterpiece when I first saw it, for it seemed to exude the sort of charisma that a rare piece of art born out of the dexterous work of a gifted artist could bear. The inevitable charm had insinuated through the dilated peep holes of my eyes, deeper into the velvety pockets of my soul, spreading out to fill them, to enrich them.

But today, as I pause to ruminate, a question disturbs me deep and true. Why hadn’t the piece of sheer beauty evoked aforesaid emotions in me for longer, precisely to this day?

Worse yet, why did my eyes fail to register the presence of it all these years? Was it because I was busy growing up? Or was it because it had lost its lustre? 

Somewhere, someday, the delectable mote in me that sprang up in excitement at the mere sight of the slightest hue of beauty, inconspicuously, started to slide closer to the verge of endangerment. They rarely enticed the adult in me, the reason for which is vague and not quite fathomable in its truest sense even at this moment. 

Nevertheless now, as I stand admiring the art that stands erect in the most formidable point of my room, yet in an unfortunately secluded corner of my mind, I find myself being guided to the damped albeit soulful beauty of the long forgotten pathway to my past- my childhood. I feel fresh surge of bliss rushing through me. It evokes, at this moment, nostalgia like no other monument can or has. The embellished lighting, the little chunk of heaven which proudly carries the weight of an epiphany is, more than anything, an apt and impeccable reminder of the simple joys and subtler intrigues of the unscarred and pristine child in me.

Coming to think of it, isn’t it unfortunate that we fail to appreciate the beauty of all those unavoidable ingredients of our past – soul stirring events, obsessive inanimate objects, life changing incidents, and last but not the least, people who kindled sparks of change in us, people who made us what we are today, who, unknowingly or not are intricately linked to us for the rest of our lives- unless and until a day arrives when the blazing dusty flames of the same are thrown onto us once again out of the blue? What would happen then? Wouldn’t we be overwhelmed then? Would we survive the stupendous vortex of emotions that barge in on us that imminent day? How would we react? Would we smile? Or would we cry? Or would we be insensitive enough to ignore it and move on as if the trails we treaded could do nothing more for the supposedly proud and egoistic us even if we took time and try to dwell in those once again out of gratefulness?

More importantly, wouldn’t we agree, without thinking twice, with the vacuum of our hearts for once filled with utmost fervour, to be flung back to the depths of those memories a second time, to live, love, laugh, obsess, amaze and be amazed all over again?

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P.S: This post is tagged with ‘Mid Week Quests’, a sub section of this blog where I write on a Wednesday, about random nuggets from my life .

Doc Diaries #1 – Mid Week Quests

When we met last, I was babbling about my future prospects, the first baby steps of which were to be taken last week and sans hesitation, let me say that it was taken, on a warm note to my relief too. Although, one way or the other, I have been serving the Government for the past few years, as an intern first and as a resident later, this is the first time I feel that I have been imbibed into the otherwise enclosed and privileged terrain, without the constraints of time and bond limiting my stay. Am I happy that I have had a taste of what it feels like to be secured by the promise of a job for life? Yes.  But as they say, the fact cannot be denied that I still have miles to go before I sleep and the sheer rawness of the undeniable truth keeps me from relaxing at this juncture. My eyes are set on higher studies, one that will consolidate the professional in me.

The job is in another district, to reach where I have to travel for around 2to 3 hours. The place is calm and serene, as far as I have seen. But you know, a doctor confronts bloodshed and goriness day in and day out. They are mostly the first halt for assaults and medico legal cases, especially the ones serving Government hospitals and there in surface the darkest and depressing facets of the place we serve. One cannot judge a place by what we see in a quick glance. The undercurrents are mostly hidden, like the massive, albeit inconspicuous chunk of the iceberg wallowing beneath the surface of the ocean.

Sadly, there is absolutely no place to stay there, particularly for a few kilometers around the hospital premises and because of that I am forced to adjust my duties in a way that will let me commute for work in a comfortable manner, thanks to the colleagues who understand the wariness of the situation. 

As far as the commute is concerned, I get to travel a lot by train. And undoubtedly, I am delighted in that regard as well although I have never much travelled far and long for my job almost on a daily basis before. If you haven’t heard about the speciality of train journeys through Kerala before, the best way to imbibe the raw beauty of Kerala is to travel by train, a fact vouched by any tourist who has travelled the length and breadth of the state. The cold rush of breeze against the hair, the warm motes of sun settling on the inviting skin, the evocative and enticing sights of nature and the thrill of being on the move imbibing the nuances of life, both from within and from around sound insatiable indeed. 

Even when the matters were almost settled in my mind and heart, the first ever duty that I took in the hospital gave me reasons to worry. Because of the adjustments, I was to take a straight 19 hour duty, which I thought would be, if not a cake walk, at least doable with the amount of experience that I had in medical colleges where we serve for up to 36 hours once a week. Somehow, here, there was a seamless flow of patients, granting me little time to rest. After the duty, all peppy, happy and satiated, I took an auto to the railway station and waited there singing a song and clicking photographs of the deserted station, sipping from a cold drink in between. The train was supposed to come by 10.00 and there was no sign of the train even one hour after that. I was all sweaty and tired, my hair was shaggy and ruffled and I could sense distressing drops of perspiration starting to collect on my skin for the hot weather and my dreary body. On top of that, to make matters worse, the inevitable migraine kicked in mercilessly. Needless to say, I was a bundle of havoc  in no time. Before things got out of my hand and made me swoon, the train arrived, trundling in its own pace and I got in and settled without much ado. I came back home and slept 5 hours straight in broad daylight, much to the awe of my parents.

Now that I realised I cannot trust that train, I have changed plans so that the dark episode wouldn’t happen a second time. Nevertheless, I am content that I am working and am hopeful that the initial hiccoughs would part ways, soon and forever. One learns along the way, isn’t it so? However old a person turns, he or she would still have so much to learn from the pages of life. Even though it is too early on the path to state affirmatively, I have a hunch that the following days would be liberating, both with regard to my inner professional and personal space. 

The last one week has been so utterly a busy one that I missed my Mid Week Quests, although, it should be stressed that I truly have been on one of the worthiest quests of my life. Seven days of weariness and the whole routine is threatened to be toppled down headfirst onto the ground. But I don’t think there is a reason to worry as long as something good is happening along the way. I can always write when I am settled. I can always catch up on my reading the next free day.

 One cannot live forever, relishing the gifts of life. Sometimes we need to strive hard to make those gifts attainable forever; simply that one needs to be sensible enough to realise when to draw the line and take rest to recharge.

~~

Now reading, mostly in train:  The Cosmopolitan by Anjum Hassan.

 

P.S: This post is tagged with ‘Mid Week Quests’, a sub section of this blog where I write on a Wednesday, about random nuggets from my life .

Mindful But Absent – Book Review: Saturday Specifics

 

The Blurb on the Back Cover: 

“This is a story about relationships within a family unit and close friends 

for a happy & enriching life 

It traces fictional journeys of a few friends from IIM Ahmedabad over 

the course of 25 years 

Set against the backdrop of multiple bottom-line or impact investments, it highlights inherent conflicts of success in the intensely competitive lives of these MBAs. 

The story amalgamates rustic India and contemporary global with 

its wry humor and its take on the startup ecosystem which most professionals may relate to.” 

My Take:

MBA-Mindful But Absent is a straight forward story of a group of management professionals. The story told in non parallel narrative starts off with three friends, Rolo, Ashim and Ramesh reunited in the present. Ashim and Ramesh are running a start up venture and to accompany them, to offer help in whatever way possible arrives their friend and batch mate Rolo. When closely knit friends meet, heart warming conversations and reminiscences are bound to happen. The same happens here and each of them traces their journey since the day they graduated from the business school.

What follows in the book is a roller coaster ride that takes us through the fervour and fiestas that people soaked in true friendship witness. I especially liked the life journey of Rolo, who is portrayed as a compassionate human being, which in a way, sends out a strong message to the youth of the present generation. The dialogues are written mostly in simple language, such that it does justice to the essence of the story, with the theme revolving around the whims and woes of the youth of our country. The story is particularly relevant in the aspect that it deals with the vagaries that aspiring business men confront in their relentless and strife stricken journey, where they strive hard to make a mark with their start up projects. Not solely that, but the turmoils and hiccoughs that married couples encounter, of the likes of mistrust, divorce, seperation and infidelity come to the foray occasionally too. The story ends on a heart warming note which pleased the reader in me. 

I wish though that the backdrops of the scenes and the layers of the characters were put across in a more detailed manner. I couldn’t find any typographic errors or grammer glitches, which point to good editing. It can be considered as a must read for the entrepreneurs out there, who would find the thoughts opined in the book to echo with their experience. For others too, the book would interstingly keep company on a relaxed afternoon, when you are in the mood to read something light and uncomplicated. 

~~~

Details of the Book:

Title: Mindful but absent

Author: Vikas Gupta

Publisher: Leadstart Publishing

Genre: Fiction/ Contemperory

Number of Pages: 257

Price: Rs.200

Buy the Book Online:

Amazon India

Flipkart

About the Author: 

Vikas is an alum of IIM Ahmedabad, currently CEO of a group of companies employing 10K people. He had incubated a low-cost housing business while at a private equity fund. The concept was based upon mass production but low customization techniques that bring high quality housing for the lower income section of society tantalizingly within reach. He had, prior to that, spent close to two decades in the industry. Some of his notable assignments were President of Kohler India, CEO of Lacoste India, CEO of Arcus, and Country Manager for Adams confectionary business at Warner-Lambert. He started his career at Colgate Palmolive.

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P.S: This post is tagged with  ‘Saturday Specifics’ , a sub section of this blog where I put up something creative- a story, poem, haiku, Flash Fiction or a Book Review.
 
P.P.S: The book was sent to me by the Publisher in exchange for a honest review. The views expressed in the review are unbiased and are entirely mine. 
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Menaka’s Choice- Book Review: Saturday Specifics

I started writing book reviews on this blog around four years back. I remember my grand father gifting me a notebook when I was a little girl, if my memory serves right, exactly eighteen years back, suggesting that I write down my thoughts, criticisms and reviews on the books I read. In hindsight, I believe that it was he who instilled in me in the passion to fall in love with books and indirectly the constant urge to express my opinions, to be saved forever in black and blue on the blank pages of the notebook. After reviewing a few books I preferred, the blog slowly started sliding  into the professional book review niche where I would review books on request. And now after so long, I am undertaking the fulfilling process of reviewing a book, sans a request. I read the book out of curiosity and I am reviewing it out of the unmistakable compulsion of my own inner terrains.

So much for the prelude. The book I am about to talk about now is ‘Menaka’s Choice’ authored by the prolific Kavita Kane. Let me confess before hand that I picked up the book more owing to the inspiring bio profile of the author more than anything else. Yes, the theme centred around, Menaka, the Apsara who is mentioned randomly when narrated The Ramayana intrigued me for its novel subject, but, I have to admit that my observative eyes never roam past an author who is qualified and has made a mark in the realm of literature, without taking a moment to imbibe the details of the book he/she has authored. ( This doesn’t inadvertently imply that I prefer such books always; rather it has to be understood that I wouldn’t, in most probability, want to miss such a book)

And that was how I picked up ‘Menaka’s Choice’.

Do I regret the decision? Was I wrong in judging the book by such unique pre requisites?

You would have an answer as you glide through the review. I promise.

First of all, the protagonist of the book is Menaka- the sensuous Apsara who, like any other resident of Amravati, the Kingdom of Devas, belonged to Indra as widely believed. To fall in love, to marry the person she loves and to give birth to a child who was the fruit of their ever lasting love remained sins which were largely criticised and condemned, not just by Indra, but ubiquitously by all. Contrary to the sturdy rules and stipulations, Menaka falls in love with Vishwavasu, the king of Gandharvas and bores a daughter. What follows is a cascade of trials, tribulations, ploys and tactics that revolve around Menaka, who is eventually send down to Earth to seduce, Kaushik, the king of Kanyakubja, who emerges a potential threat to Indra and his kingdom for his greed for celestial power. The king is on a diligent journey to procure the title of Brahmarishi, the most coveted amongst the Rishis, much instigated by the skills and awe inspiring capabilities of the Rishi Vasishth who bemused him with his powers and  hence indirectly put him to shame.

Will Kaushik fall prey to Menaka’s bait or will she fall witness to the harrowing tentacles of his revolting curse? Will Menaka lose Viswavasu forever? Will Kaushik finally yearn the title of Brahmarishi? Or will Indra disintegrate once and for all, Kaushiks’ focussed meditations so that he would keep Heaven safe, unperturbed and unchallenged, from the desirous glances of a mere mortal?

‘Menaka’s Choice’, in one word, is multidimensional. It implicitly dwells on various topics that are highly relevant in today’s world. Menaka is not exactly a feminist, but she is a strong willed woman, or more specifically a fighter, who would go to any length to suffice the whispers of her heart. She is unconventional, bold, beautiful, confident, outspoken, incandescent, vulnerable, fearless, dedicated, righteous, astute- all rolled into one. She stands up for the people she loves. She stands up for herself. She fights injustice. She lashes out against the doers of immoral deeds with such certitude, never for once tempted to sail with the flow. She lives by her rules. She is never shrewd, nor is she conniving. But she sure knows how to make people pay the price for their vices in the least hazardous of ways. You must be wondering how I could write such a detailed character sketch of Menaka? There lies the author’s impeccable dexterity.

The book starts off slowly, albeit intriguingly. The pages are enriched with writing of superlative quality. The lexicon is remarkable. The subtle emotions are portrayed brilliantly, which in turn successfully acts to convince the reader. The conversations are detailed extensively, especially, the scene where Menaka confronts Indra about the fate of Vasu and another one where she locks Indra in a check mate with her oratory acumen. Those scenes, unquestionably, are my most favourite parts. The dialogues ooze vitality. They never lose charm mid way and these are the assertive reasons why I admire the talent of the author.

The book is alluringly sensuous at places too, which have been written in an equally aesthetic manner. The plot doesn’t skew towards unnecessary pathways and the focus is maintained mostly on Menaka and rightly, her ground breaking choices. A few editing glitches in between, thankfully, didn’t hinder the reading process any which way.  I hope sincerely that those are rectified in the following editions.

‘Menaka’s Choice’ is undoubtedly a rewarding experience. Let you not be speculative, but grab a copy and be addicted at the earliest. 

 

Details of the book:                                                                   

Title: Menaka’s Choice                                                                       

Author: Kavita Kane                                                                            

Publisher: Rupa Publications                                              

Number of Pages: 290                                                

Price: Rs. 295                                                                      

Genre: Fiction

Buy the Book Online:

Flipkart

Amazon

About the Author:  Kavita Kané is the best-selling author of Karna’s Wife: The Outcast’s Queen and Sita’s Sister. She started her career as a journalist and is now a full-time novelist. She is a postgraduate in English literature and mass-communications and a self-confessed aficionado of theatre and cinema. Married to a mariner, she is a mother to two teenaged daughters and currently lives in Pune along with Dude, the overfriendly Rottweiler, Chic the friendly Spaniel and Babe, the unfriendly cat.

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P.S: This post is tagged with ‘Saturday Specifics’, a sub section of this blog where I put up something creative- a story, poem, haiku, Flash Fiction or a Book Review.

At Crossroads – Mid Week Quests

A part of my collection at home

Life has it that, it needs to smother us with torrents of sorrows at one time, but to exhilarate us with thickets of joy at the others. Just last week, I was lamenting about the humdrum that persisted in my professional life owing to serious setbacks at the administration front and merely at the start of this week, I am bombarded with alluring choices as to how to take forward my professional life. It so happens that I am not yet done with my higher studies- Another two year would be a boon when it comes to my professional skills, I being in a surgical speciality. Nevertheless, I received the appointment order for a permanent Government job this week, out of an interview that was conducted a couple of years back. There are a few worries about taking up the same, but there are things to rejoice as well.

My parents are overjoyed with the unexpected turn of events much more than me. They think I should grab the job sans any delay, but still make sure that my concentration suffers no aberration from the higher studies dream wheel I am manoeuvring. For doctors, a government job after serving residency means steady working hours and options to relax in between, during the night off days and week off days, although we do have to serve 24hour duties every week or so. The environment is blissfully different, although only relatively, from the residency period, when the resident is supposed to available in the hospital, either in person or as on call duty 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for 365 days a year.

Residency days witnessed the slow demise of my creativity. I have no regrets, for it died or rather went into hibernation for a noble cause. I see it as more of a sacrifice, which deserves praise, let alone disturbing and remorseful stares. The books that I had so wishfully bought to be read, soon was drowned in an ocean of the academic text books. I abandoned my efforts to seek a muse for there were direr matters at hand imploring my attention and service. I even believed, assertively, to an extent that I would never ever write again in my life and that my passion would remain buried in a deserted, enclosed pit forever. However much I tried to focus on the pages of a novel, I could hardly make myself drag my eyes for more than a few pages at a time. Although, all the while, a feeble voice had been muttering in the back of my mind that the phase should pass soon. Yet, somehow man tends to ignore the forecasts of the soul sometimes and find an inexplicable, mysterious joy in the heinous task of rubbing the salts of apprehension on the still oozing wound. Not much of a ghastly wound when it comes to the scenario I just described, but, an aching abrasion for sure the unappetising emotion was. 

I assumed mine was an isolated case of reader’s block, until yesterday when one of my dearest friends confessed that she was encountering a similar situation, her life being chock a block with the formidable, implicit and explicit responsibilities of residency. She also added that a day without reading a book always felt incomplete for her. How true!

It so turns out that for me, spring hastily follows winter, however long the stone cold era might be. The period of parchment the bibliophilic section of my mind and heart is accustomed to, if the atmosphere transforms to a more favourable one, is without much delay followed by an entirely enriching experience. I know that this endearing halt on my journey has to be considered as an oasis, for the days of sheer bliss( concerning the reader in me, for the doctor in me feels blessed every minute of the day with or without books) are not to last long.

From there ensue the cascade of acts that any bibliophile could relate to- Buying dozens of books online/offline and savouring them back to back, all the while snuggling onto the couch, munching on crispy chips punctuated with sips of tea or coffee. This has happened to me occasionally before too- During my Summer vacations back in school, after my Medical entrance, on year end breaks in college, after my post graduate entrance and now recently, after my post graduate university exam.

The bittersweet truth is even when I pine to get hold of a book; I fear it would be hard to fall back on my habit of reading after a long hiatus. Inertia sometimes take a toll on me, but once I overcome that marshy patch, things start to glide fast smoothly.

Coming back to my soon-to-be posted job, if I dissect it to shreds there are several pros and cons:

Pros:

There is nothing new to be learnt to perform the job (Now that is one good thing about being a doctor. You are trained to act according to the circumstances, however mind numbing those might be)
I would be ‘working’ after a monotonous gap of five months.
I hope to read and write, now that I am officially a medical officer, and not a surviving medical student.
Reasonable amount of leisure time

Cons:

I would have to shift to the rural terrains of another district.
I would miss the comforts of my home.
I wouldn’t particularly be using the skills I acquired through my post graduation for the time being. But surely, after a while it would happen.

I look forward to penning down a post after I embark on the new job. A whole new list of pros and cons might welcome me there, who knows.

For the time being, I am relishing my much sought after time with books. I am relieved that I reclaimed my habit and to consolidate the same, I signed up for the Goodreads Reading Challenge too for a goal of 50 books in 2016. I long to read more than that, but one never knows how the days turn out to be in my profession. I have had a lot of book talks this week- with my friend whose words echoed my thoughts, with an upcoming author on his debut and right when I thought it was going to end, I received a courier carrying the books I had ordered online last week, stirring in me the flame to write this post for this week’s Mid Week Quests. I am leaving you all with a picture of my latest assets. Posing suavely alongside is the cutest, cuddliest, sleepy little gem who is my writing companion these days.

Ogle as much as you want, but do leave behind your own stories surrounding books. Do you go on a reading spree like me when you finally earn the time? Have you too weighed out the pros and cons enroute a new job? Do you suffer creativity-block yourself when accosted with duty calls ?

There is not a thing I don’t love in this picture!

 

P.S: This post is tagged with ‘Mid Week Quests’, a sub section of this blog where I write on a Wednesday, about random nuggets from my life .

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Soliloquy- Saturday Specifics

Image Source: Here

I feel relentless waves of sleep lash against me. My body, at present an embodiment of weariness, screams at me, pleading to be permitted to rest. I look around speculatively. My dreary eyes rove around the surrounding to rule out unassuming silhouttes of danger lurking around.

How could I let my body sleep unless I rule out the nasty tentacles of harm?

As the guardian, being the soul,  am I not the one to take care of my bodily presence in this world?

Looking around, I see warm, compassionate hearts meandering beside me. Hearts that fed me when I was hungry. Hearts that tended to my wounds ever so caringly. Hearts that caressed me exactly where I wanted it to be. Hearts that looked in to my eyes and smiled, as if I meant the world to them. Hearts that whispered to me lullabies of love, when I yearned for it the most. 

They wouldn’t hurt me in any way, would they?

Those chaotic days in the dark eerie corners of the street are behind me, so are the minds that were repulsively hazardous than the stones they threw diligently at the battered souls. I have been rescued for good. Now, as I slip slowly down into the serene haven of slumber, I feel caring hands stroking me slowly.

Convinced, I yield to the seamless pleas of my being.  I sleep peacefully till the last shred of tiredness is eased out of me. I sleep knowing that I am under the watchful eyes of my saviour.  Hunger pacified, thirst quenched, I sleep, sound, sane and satisfied for once in my life.

~~~~~

P.S: This post is tagged with ‘Saturday Specifics’, a sub section of this blog where I put up something creative- a story, poem, haiku, Flash Fiction or a Book Review.

P.P.S: Dedicated to all those amazing people and organisations in the world who inhabit animals, either as pets or as a way of providing them shelter. 

Being Personal – Mid Week Quests

Image Source: here

This blog was born out of a misery. A misery which was capable enough to shake the earth beneath me. A helpless and distraught me found respite in the blank canvas that lay invitingly before me on this glaring monitor. It has been close to eight years since I started blogging. The blog started off as a niche where I jotted down random posts that niggled in the depths of me, desperately pleading thereby to let them out. I wrote my first ever piece of poetry, not on a ragged piece of paper or on the blank pages of my notebook when I was a child; I wrote that on an MS Word document and copied it onto my blog, but when I was 20. This blog has taught me many a thing, but more than that, somewhere on the trail, it shrouded itself the cloak of an archaeologist and started excavating the hidden chambers in the gurgling innards of me. I discovered a part of me that lay buried in an abandoned corner, waiting to be unearthed someday, before it was too late.

Around two years into the journey, the concept of blogging in me underwent a drastic change. I started eyeing blogging as an exercise I could undertake to polish my writing skills without depending on anyone. It seemed to me the perfect way to test the strength, durability and flexibility of my writing. Undoubdtedly, the opinions of my readers acted as an essential inspiration all along, to keep experimenting and to try out fresh avenues on the wide pedestal of writing. And that was how I started writing stories in this space. Over the time, this blog changed shades and metamorphosed into, more than anything else, a creative blog. Snippets of my personal life and accounts of my hitherto unspoken emotions dwindled with time.

Over the past few weeks, I have been having a recurrent thought as to why I stopped peeking into the individual in me to lend voice to the forgotten cadence chirping shyly somewhere inside.  I have been busy dissecting the many fictitious characters, that I was never implored to infuse life into the multifarious hues that lay redundant in me.

Talking of personal blogs, I am tempted to confide in you a couple of vagaries too, that in a way, acted as the implicit prompt for this post. These might sound insignificant, or perhaps even undeserving to be encouraged, owing to its silliness. But I do have to let it out, to attain respite from the consistent disturbing urge to speak out the heart’s dilemmas. To put it simply,

Is it necessary that each and every post I write in this blog, or for that matter, any blogger writes in his/her blog ought to highlight a particular message?
Should it always speak of something that satiates the interests of the readers?
Should it always garner comments aplenty?

I personally love to read blog posts that are written from the heart.  I may not always have words to express how I felt for the writer when I read those, but I sure hold those accounts close to my heart. And it was when I thought it that way, that it struck me that blogging needn’t always be about the readers. At times, it should also be about satisfying the writer in you; let it be through pointless rambling speeches, introspective posts, stories, poignant poems, or however else it may be.

On a very positive note, I have decided to not unnecessarily chain this blog with reins any more. This blog shall have everything till the time I decide to wrap it up sans a return journey– Stories, poems, reviews, random musings and photographs- Everything that touches my heart, everything that I would want to segregate and have etched in this space in black and blue, so that they would have a soul of their own to realise that they are to look deep in my eyes and smile when I feel the inevitable need to reminisce. This space ought to be and would be a hint to what I am in the inside. 

Also, I shall strive hard to keep posting regularly in ‘Mid Week Quests’. I have started liking this section of blog the most. Now, after writing this post, I have the inkling that in 2016, this blog might witness the celebration of the essence of being. Well, I cannot be happier for that revelation. 

If something as evocative as deciphering the whispers of my soul would nudge my pen to scribble more, then why not?

 

P.S: This post is tagged with ‘Mid Week Quests’, a sub section of this blog where I write on a Wednesday, about random nuggets from my life .

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Now Reading : The Catcher in the Rye (Paperback) and Lolita on the Kindle App. 

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Book Review: Ajaya-Roll Of The Dice :Saturday Specifics

My favourite companions- A good book, a warm cup of tea and of course my laptop that smiles at me invitingly every time I am inspired to write

A quick note on the book before proceeding to the review :- Ajaya- Roll of the Dice is the first book of the Ajaya series. The novel is a retelling of the epic Mahabharata, as told from Suyodhana’s perspective. The sequel of the book is Ajaya 2 – Rise of Kali, which was published in August 2015 and is available for read, both online and in stores.

The Blurb:

  THE MAHABHARATA ENDURES AS THE GREAT EPIC OF INDIA. But while Jaya is the story of the Pandavas, told from the perspective of the victors of Kurukshetra; Ajaya is the narrative of the ‘unconquerable’ Kauravas, who were decimated to the last man.

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At the heart of India’s most powerful empire, a revolution is brewing. Bhishma, the noble patriarch of Hastinapura, is struggling to maintain the unity of his empire. On the throne sits Dhritarashtra, the blind King, and his foreign-born Queen – Gandhari. In the shadow of the throne stands Kunti, the Dowager-Queen, burning with ambition to see her firstborn become the ruler, acknowledged by all.

And in the wings:

* Parashurama, the enigmatic Guru of the powerful Southern Confederate, bides his time to take over and impose his will from mountains to ocean. 

* Ekalavya, a young Nishada, yearns to break free of caste restrictions and become a warrior.

* Karna, son of a humble charioteer, travels to the South to study under the foremost Guru of the day and become the greatest archer in the land. 

* Balarama, the charismatic leader of the Yadavas, dreams of building the perfect city by the sea and seeing his people prosperous and proud once more. 

* Takshaka, guerilla leader of the Nagas, foments a revolution by the downtrodden as he lies in wait in the jungles of India, where survival is the only dharma.

* Jara, the beggar, and his blind dog Dharma, walk the dusty streets of India, witness to people and events far greater than they, as the Pandavas and the Kauravas confront their searing destinies.

Amidst the chaos, Prince Suyodhana, heir of Hastinapura, stands tall, determined to claim his birthright and act according to his conscience. He is the maker of his own destiny – or so he believes. While in the corridors of the Hastinapura palace, a foreign Prince plots to destroy India. And the dice falls…

My Review: 

Through ‘Ajaya’, the author has taken up the painstaking, albeit adventurous task of retelling the renowned epic ‘Mahabharatha’. The story begins with the picture of a rather distraught, young Suyodhana hiding from a sturdy and rebellious Bhima, who, as was his usual hobby, is out on his trail to chide his cousin for no particular reason. From the very opening scene, the author succeeds in conveying the essence of his bold and ground breaking venture- A Mahabharata narrated in a manner that would lend voice to the vanquished souls.

The job at hand of reviewing the book is not easy. For one, the formidable tale of Mahabharata is something which has been etched in our hearts since the moment, as a child, we yearned for stories, the synopsis of which being the Pandavas with the help of Krishna winning the war against the Kauravas. The legend would leave any one dubious about the subtleties and the methods involved, but then, we were taught, rather it was hard wired in to our minds to believe that to do one’s Dharma was what mattered, and not the over emphasis on the dainty threads of emotional connect, which are sure to disintegrate one day. We were taught to focus on the bigger picture, to study it and to dissect it for the betterment of our own independent lives.

The author, with his spectacular cadence of storytelling has created an entirely different version of the epic. The loopholes in the epic have been nitpicked to weave sub plots out of those weak, marshy spots in the most astute of manners. One might disagree to the accusations strewn against the characters we otherwise consider heroes, but then one is also forced to be amazed by the deftness of the author’s mind plays. I personally read the book, keeping my mind and heart wide open, prepared to let the words flown in, to let it satiate the ravenous reader in me and not be flinched by the audacity of the author’s unrestrained vision. The Duryodhana that common man knows of is one dimensional, highlighted by monochromic shades of black. In this book, the author has unveiled the multiple layers of Duryodhana’s personality, presenting before the reader a multi dimensional character, bringing to the limelight his compassion, his eye for romanticism, his sympathy towards the downtrodden, his despise towards the rotten caste system that prevailed in those times and his unrelenting passion to follow his heart. Do we know if those were true? More importantly, do we know if those were untrue? The book is the author’s attempt to insinuate deeper, to tread beyond those questions to offer the reader his share of answers and he does that with immense flair and élan.

The reader might be taken aback at certain places where the acts of certain characters, especially that of Pandavas,Kunti, Drona and Lord Krishna himself are sketched such that one is prompted to throw them under the scrutinising stares of one’s rationale and judgements. Those incidents are not something we haven’t heard of before and we know a few of those acts served a greater purpose too, but few readers might find it mildly jarring to have those focussed up on. As I said before, it is not easy to convince the reader why I liked the book, when I myself am an ardent admirer of Mahabharata. Perhaps, the fact that the writer in me was conquered by the visionary would serve as the best explanation for the same. 

The review wouldn’t be complete without opining about the quality of writing, would it? The prose is undoubtedly engaging, with frequent references to the nature and its metaphoric enigma enriching the story at the right places. The narration is brilliantly equipped with intriguing content to take the pace forwards sans hiccoughs. The conversations are even witty at places, especially when the author sketches the camaraderie between Suyodhana and Ashwathama. The lexicon stands out and that, along with the fluidity of the prose and the amount of research that has gone in to the making of this remarkable work  completely enthralled the reader in me.  

I would definitely look forward to more of the author’s works. Perhaps, a literary fiction before long?

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A Few Quotable QuotesFrom The Book: 

“When our schools fail to teach our children what they should know, other schools take their place and teach different lessons, which we may not like.” 

“Never associate any evil with a group. Hate their sins, but not the people.” 

‘Life is a gamble. You do not know how the dice will fall. But once they have, how you move the pieces is in your hands.” 

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About The Author: (In his own words)

I was born in a quaint little village called Thripoonithura, on the outskirts of Cochin, Kerala. Located east of mainland Ernakulam, across Vembanad Lake, this village had the distinction of being the seat of the Cochin royal family. However, it was more famous for its hundred odd temples; the various classical artists it produced and its music school. I remember many an evening listening to the faint rhythm of Chendas from the temples and the notes of the flute escaping over the rugged walls of the school of music. Gulf money and the rapidly expanding city of Cochin have, however, wiped away all remaining vestiges of that old world charm. The village has evolved into the usual, unremarkable, suburban hell hole, clones of which dot India. Growing up in a village with more temples than was necessary, it was no wonder that the Ramayana fascinated me. Ironically, I was drawn to the anti-hero of the epic – Ravana, and to his people, the Asuras. I wondered about their magical world. But my fascination remained dormant for many years, emerging only briefly to taunt and irritate my pious aunts during family gatherings. Life went on… I became an engineer; joined the Indian Oil Corporation; moved to Bangalore; married Aparna and welcomed my daughter Ananya, and my son, Abhinav. But the Asura emperor would not leave me alone. For six years he haunted my dreams, walked with me, and urged me to write his version of the story. He was not the only one who wanted his version of the story to be told. One by one, irrelevant and minor characters of the Ramayana kept coming up with their own versions. Bhadra, who was one of the many common Asuras who were inspired, led and betrayed by Ravana, also had a remarkable story to tell, different from that of his king. And both their stories are different from the Ramayana that has been told in a thousand different ways across Asia over the last three millennia. This is then Asurayana, the story of the Asuras, the story of the vanquished.

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Details Of The Book: 

Title: Ajaya: Roll Of The Dice

Author: Anand Neelakantan

Publisher: Leadstart Publishing 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Pages: 456

Publication Year: 2015

Price: Rs. 349

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Buy the book online :  

Amazon : Here     Flipkart: Here

Goodreads Page: Here

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This post is tagged with ‘Saturday Specifics’, a sub section of this blog where I put up something creative- a story, poem, haiku, Flash Fiction or a Book Review.