Sneha Jaiswal's Blog, page 284
July 20, 2020
Indian Matchmaking – Review
Weddings are the new snake charmers. The willful orientalisation of the East by the West continues to this day and this shit-show is just another manifestation of the same.
So Seema Aunty from Mumbai is in the business of ‘matchmaking’. Her clients include flashy upper class Indian families and well to-do NRIs. The show lays bare everything that is wrong with the way marriages are perceived among Indians, be in in the country or saat samandar paar.
Be it the hunt for slim, trim, educated but cultured brides (read: discosavitris) or clueless young men unable to think beyond their mothers when it comes to choosing their life-partners. The ruthless trampling of individuality of women in the name of asking them to be ‘flexible, accommodating and compromising’ to perpetuating notions that a strong headed woman is ‘unstable’. The premium on good-looks (‘physically and mentally attractive’ said a participant, wtf?) or the importance of alignment of stars for a person to possibly succeed at anything in life.
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The show endorses misogyny, patriarchy, casteism, racism, colourism, class-divides, superstition, body-shaming, divorce-related stigma, lack of individuality and an idea that for a young person its ‘marriage or nothing’.
What’s more is that it doesn’t have one success story to boast of (which was probably why I saw it till the end hoping Nadia to get hitched). Even Preeti Aunty’s dumb fuck son is still single despite her willingness to drown the bride in flashy jewelry and gaudy outfits.
Do yourself a favour and don’t watch the show!
(If you don’t value your time – the new show is streaming on Netflix)
Note to readers – This is a guest post by Munish Rathore, journalist in the morning, Bollywood junkie by evening. For more of his reviews, you can go to his Instragram page – @MunishRathore.
Jerusalem Diaries
So I binge-read and finished the graphic novel “Jerusalem” by Guy Delisle today. I’ve read three of his other books and they have this incredible quality of making even the mundane seem interesting.
Delisle captures the essence of every place with an unwitting wry humour. Just like his previous books ‘Pyongyang’, ‘Shenzen’ & ‘Burma Chronicles’, he starts of the narration with his arrival at Jerusalem. This time, he is with his girlfriend who works for ‘Doctors without borders’ and their two little kids.
This book gives the reader a view of a historically significant place through the eyes of a laid-back, non-partisan observer, who believes in ‘show & tell’. One gets to understand the varied religious and geographical conflicts the region is torn in, but in a casual, light-hearted manner.
Delisle books chronicle conversations with locals, officials, journalists, cab drivers and all sorts of interesting people. Each giving a unique glimpse of the way of the world he is in. And all of this is interspersed with his own domestic duties as a dad looking after two toddlers, while his wife is away at the Gaza strip. It’s a refreshing and engaging look at “the glamorous life of a housewife”, as the author himself declares sarcastically in a panel. It’s only a joke of-course, because no ‘housewife’ gets to run around the world, including conflict-ridden zones, unaccompanied, just to draw everything around.
Here’s what is very unique about Delisle’s travelogues – they don’t really make you want to visit the place, but definitely keep you turning the pages. He takes you to corners very few travel writers do.
The illustrations are simple, stark and have a very old school comic strip touch to them. I wish he had more of these travelogue style graphic novels.
P.S – On an unrelated note – I published my second book ‘Love, Loss, Lockdown’. It’s a collection of short stories, so check it out.
July 19, 2020
So Absurd….
I found the book “So Absurd It Must Be True” via the author’s profile on Twitter. Just the fact that it was a collection of bizarre short-stories was enough to get me interested.
Let me start the review with what I really liked about the book – Victoria Ray (the author) seems to have had a lot of fun writing this one. I might be wrong, but that’s just the sense I got while reading some of the stories. “Wow, she really did go full absurd,” I would chuckle and think to myself at several points.
If you are the sorts that likes reading realist stuff or Victorian classics – This book is not for you. If you are looking for some dirty/kinky/fun/weird read for the weekend, you have found your match in this one!
Ray packs in a lot of pop culture and literary references that casual readers will not get. The names of some of the characters is hilariously good. I really enjoyed reading the one with Anna Karenina & Leo Tolstoy, it was short, absurd and funny. I haven’t really read any book of this sort (absurdist elements with erotica), so it was an interesting experience.
There were two-three stories that I didn’t quite see any point in. But some things in life don’t have a point, do they? Feel like Ray should have probably led with a different first story, because it’s not as fun as the others, predictable even. So don’t give up on the book if you don’t like the first short story. Plus points for the sheer ingenuity of some of the plots! Totally works for some weekend reading.
P.S – On an unrelated note – I published my second book ‘Love, Loss, Lockdown’. It’s a collection of short stories, so check it out.
July 18, 2020
Staying Sane As A Writer
I spent at least two hours of my Saturday morning just drafting polite individual messages for ‘book reviewers’. After a point, I just ignored some, even though I didn’t want to.
What am I rambling about? Well, some of you might be aware that I published a book called ‘Love, Loss, Lockdown’. It’s a collection of 10 short stories set against the Covid19 pandemic. And a lot of ‘book reviewers’ have reached out to me on Twitter and Instagram, asking me if I would like them to review my book.
Reviewers reaching out to a new writer, sounds great right? Not really. All of the reviewers who reached out to me wanted me to PAY them to review my book. And I do not believe in buying reviews. That’s what it is. While I am happy to give a free copy of my book to somebody who genuinely loves reading and does critical reviews; I am not going to pay for it, even if it’s just a dollar.
Some of these reviewers who messaged me had more than 10,000 followers, heck, one of them had over a 100,000 followers. But my answer was pretty much this – happy to give you a free copy in exchange of an honest review, but will not pay for it.
Some random reviewer (with about 1500 followers on Instagram) clearly didn’t understand what I was trying to say and responded to me on the lines of – “Okay, I will mail you my review, but I will not post it anywhere, because that means I am promoting your book and for that you will have to pay”. I had a huge laugh out of it and didn’t respond.
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Honestly, the idiotic response completely fucked with my head for a few seconds. I mean – why does this random person (who contacted me first) think I am interested in knowing his opinion via a private email? And actually expects me to give him a free copy of my book for a private email feedback? L-O-L. I really wish I had the confidence of some of these guys. I have 6,000 followers on Quora and never have I ever messaged any of my loyal readers to sell them a copy of my book.
I am guessing since I have a pathetic following on Instagram, some of these ‘reviewers’ think they can scam me. I know there are enough independent authors out there, who would happily pay anybody who would read their book and post reviews on various social media platforms. To my fellow independent writers – if you value your work, can you not pay random reviewers who write generic reviews? You are basically encouraging a toxic culture of every second reader wanting to become a paid reviewer.
July 16, 2020
The Nasties – Book Review
‘The Nasties’ by Mark Hurst was a fun, gripping read. Despite the book using the typical good versus evil plot, Hurst splits his novel into interesting little chapters that keep the reader turning pages.
10-year-old Charlie is the hero of the story. The boy mysteriously loses his father but suddenly finds himself burdened with supernatural powers to fight monsters trying to take over his world. These monsters called ‘the Nasties’ feed on little kids. Can a ten-year-old, with only a drunk adult to guide him, do much to ward off evil? That forms the rest of the story.
Hurst has written this book in such graphic detail, it feels like you are watching a tv series. Some bits were reminiscent of Stephen King’s horror book ‘It’. Which is obviously meant to compliment the writer, because I loved It.
There were times when I wondered if some of the stuff said by Charlie in the book was too mature for his age and then thought to myself “I spoke like a grandmother when I was 10”.
There is nothing to not like about this book. It’s a fun one for anybody that wants to read some good old “monster versus kids” stuff. I really enjoyed it.
P.S. On an unrelated note – I published my second book ‘Love, Loss, Lockdown’, a collection of short stories. If you like general fiction, please get a copy. Both e-book and paperback versions are available on Amazon –
Quit Playing Games
Won’t lie. The first video game I ever played as a kid should have been something a little more constructive, but it happened to be a gorefest named Mortal Kombat. In a computer parlour called Cliff’s Cyber Chhaas (perhaps this Cliff guy – bless his soul – thought he was too cool for the generic term ‘cyber cafe’ but couldn’t think of a good substitute drink other than buttermilk). It was the golden age of cafe gaming, where you could play for about half an hour for a measly sum of 10 bucks.
So Mortal Kombat was a rage back in the days. One of those titles where you had two fighters with names that sound badass to 14-year-olds facing each other. You control one, the system controls the other. But learning the long list of character moves was more like trying to memorize answers for a test, neither of which a schoolkid is particularly fond of. Or wants to be reminded of. So the best way to play, was to mash every functioning button on the keyboard, in the hopes that with some luck, you might be able to pull the opponent’s pixelated guts out before they pull yours.
My father, pious and always a man of values, stood behind me and watched his firstborn slice, skewer, burn up, and melt people with stomach acid for thirty minutes. I could tell he wasn’t thrilled; in fact, his face did seem like he was quite desperate for a basin. In his mind, he was probably going on about how he had committed a grave mistake by introducing his young, impressionable child to this satanic game and set him on one of at least ten different paths towards self-destruction. Given the look he had on his face throughout, I thought he’d be relieved when my time was up, but when I got off my chair, in a turn of events quite atypical for him, he decided he was going to allow me to play for another half hour. Because you’re a good boy and I feel generous, he said. Although I suspect this had nothing to do with generosity and everything to do with his parental instinct to ‘correct the course of fate’.
I remember him laying a hand on my shoulder and pointing to the two dozen or so game icons scattered on the screen. “Try something else, beta” he advised, without sounding too insistent, still reeling from the brutality he’d seen earlier. “There. That one sounds interesting” he added, directing my attention to an icon of a car, to a game titled Midtown Madness.
“Uncle, ye driving ka game hai, isko bahut acha lagega” the older boy sitting at the booth next to mine chimed in.
Perhaps the prospect of his son learning an essential life skill instead of a game about dismembering people was assurance enough for my morally wounded, redemption-seeking father, and so I launched Midtown Madness. The first thing I was required to do was pick from a list of boxy-looking vehicles. “Bus le le. Mast hai” the boy helped. Turns out, he was right about the game. But he’d only given us part of the truth. I took my bus through an apparently-lawless virtual city tour, free-roaming, driving over sidewalks and parks, knocking other vehicles out of the way and causing them to explode all over the streets in a merry, destructive spree. For the next half hour, whenever I had the chance to look behind at my father, all I saw was a man staring at the spectacle of his own defeat, tight-lipped, watching me commit every traffic violation possible and silently cursing himself for listening to the proverbial Snake of Eden sitting next to me.
And that was my first tryst with video games. Also my father’s. We had both walked out of the parlour enlightened, although his take on the subject was vastly different than mine.
I don’t suppose he was very excited either, when, many years later as a college student, I brought my first PC home. It didn’t stop him from paying for it, kind as he is, but he had hoped he could somehow talk me out of indulging in those ungodly games without being downright oppressive. Perhaps try to deflect me from walking one of those sinful paths he had imagined, even if a little.
“What’s the point in all that shooting and killing and rash driving?”, he would ask me as politely as possible after I wrapped up an extended gaming session. “Read the Bible. Watch National Geographic. Something without all that stupid violence.” Many times, I’ve almost wished I could tell him how neither the scripture nor nature was even remotely as non-violent as he believed it to be, but that would most likely upset the delicate ‘live and let live’ agreement we had for so long. And so, all I’d do is nod and say “Good point”, and that would keep him off my back for a couple of days.
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Over the years, as the games and my system upgraded, so did his reasons. Just like that sorceror character in one of my games, my dad had a wide assortment of spells to pick from, not to mention he had mastered the art of selecting them carefully according to the situation. I’d say his favourite was the classic Remuneration spell – Does it pay? Do you get money for wasting all that time just playing?. Flashy, but not quite effective. His second most loved incantation had to be the Consumption spell, which pretty much went along the lines of ‘your machine uses a lot of power, the bills are getting higher’. In the summers he would conjure up something along ‘that computer heats up the entire room’, often to mom, and often to great effect. But he always kept his distance, trying his little tricks with the utmost subtlety, afraid that he might snap my patience at any given moment and then I might snap his figurative magic wand in return. But that never happened.
Eventually, seeing how I wasn’t planning on giving up gaming anytime soon, he began taking up a chair next to me, or standing behind me, quietly watching. He would cringe every time I put a bullet through someone’s head, make a show of being disgusted when I chopped a monster into bloody juliennes fine enough to make Anthony Bourdain proud, or looked at me with disappointment if I plowed my car into a wall at 200 miles an hour. “Tsk. All those years of practice and you still can’t drive” he would often taunt.
I knew he kept getting less and less worried about my inclination for games as time passed. Perhaps even enjoyed watching it himself at times, although he never admitted to it and would not admit to this day. I guess it helped when he saw me grow up and learn to paint, fix computers, take up a job, and try to earn a decent living instead of turning into a murderous psychopath or one of those notorious Dhoom Boys (a local term for a young, reckless bike racer). Let’s just say there were too many of the bikers around, and the comparison mechanism that most Indian parents have as an inbuilt feature worked in my favour.
The half a dozen or more paths of self-destruction he had projected for me in his head were probably disappearing one by one, and with that, so were his strong negative opinions about my hobby.
Although every once in a while, he still randomly walks up to me in the middle of a slo-mo kill streak, rubs two fingers together, and goes “Money… Imagine the money you would have made if you’d spent all that time working” before strutting off like a hero walking away from an explosion. Well, let’s just say technically he’s not entirely wrong on that one.
He still stands behind me while I play, watching. Still cringes at headshots and car crashes. Still reels in disgust as I gouge eyeballs out in the newest edition of Mortal Kombat. Some things never change, and my father is nothing if not a bit stubborn. But he’s not the same terribly-concerned man from all those years ago.
I think he still believes he was the one to lead me down this slippery slope. Just like back then in Cliff’s buttermilk parlour. But unlike then, I guess now he’s a lot more sure about the way he’s raised his kid to care about it.
Note to readers – This is a guest post by Ashley Suvarna, you can find him on Instagram & Twitter. He also does book reviews at The Flitting Bookma rk.
July 15, 2020
Judging The Book Cover
How much does a book cover matter to you?
Well, it took me about five days to just brainstorm and illustrate different cover ideas for my second book. The picture I am attaching below is one of the first few doodles I scribbled while trying to figure out a cover concept for “Love, Loss, Lockdown”.
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After I was done with it, I thought to myself “Ugh, too juvenile and abstract”. Every concept had some flaw. And as a new independent writer with limited resources, there came a point when I was tempted to go for the “plain book look”. Just a simple template background with the title. But research clearly pointed at this – PEOPLE DO JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER.
I fall into the category of people that judge the book by its blurb. But if I see a free stock photo on a novel, it does make me think “okay, this author was lazy”. Maybe they weren’t. Maybe they were just too exhausted after writing the book to bother about the cover. But readers are not going to think that.
When I started asking for opinions, everybody had a different perspective on the cover ideas. Some loved it, some just didn’t dig it and each one had a completely different suggestion to give. It almost got frustrating at one point. You have to go with your gut feeling in the end. And make peace with the fact that – some are going to like it, some are not.
If you like reading general fiction, please get a copy of ‘Love, Loss, Lockdown’. Following are some links (both ebook version and paperback is available in these countries & is also available for kindle unlimited members) –
If I’ve missed your country, look for it on Amazon or on your kindle store.
July 14, 2020
Death & Darker Realms #18
‘He’s rotting away
An abandoned tree
That just won’t sway
And can’t be free
Slowly breathing
Like a sickly child
All memories fading
Not young or wild..”
These are the first few lines from poem number 18 in ‘Death & Darker Realms’. Like even the most beautiful flower finally rots away, so do we. Time ensures things change. But there are those, that never do.
For the full poem, you could get a copy of “Death & Darker Realms” on Amazon. Following are some country specific links –
If you are not into poetry, then maybe you could check out my debut fiction book “Love, Loss, Lockdown“, a collection of short stories set against the Covid19 pandemic. It’s free for Kindle Unlimited subscribers.
P.S – Let’s connect on Instagram. I would be happy to follow back fellow bloggers & writers.
July 13, 2020
Noblemen – Dark & Disturbing
Until Netflix suggested me the 2018 film ‘Noblemen’, I was blissfully unaware about its existence. Starring Ali Haji and Kunal Kapoor, this directorial debut by Vandana Kataria delves into the theme of bullying.
Shay (Haji Ali) is a sweet boy studying in an all boys’ boarding school and wants nothing but to star in a Shakespeare play for their annual day function, to make his mom proud. When he lands the coveted lead role, it invites the ire of a rich senior who was vying the same part. What follows is a dark, disturbing tale of how boarding schools breed dangerous delinquents, who would go to any lengths to torment their victims.
Kataria doesn’t shy away from exploring just how vile teen boys can be, if not kept under strict vigil. The transformation of Shay from a loving, demure boy to a scheming, vengeful teen is brought about brilliantly. The young Ali Haji is aptly cast & does justice to his role. Kunal Kapoor is convincing as the solicitous art teacher, always looking out for his students. All the other youngsters effortlessly slip into the skin of their characters too.
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There are a lot of clever allusions to Shakespeare’s ‘Merchant of Venice’ throughout the film. The mood is somber and the pace is almost perfect. There are times, when as a viewer you would get uncomfortable and furious at the unfolding events. And that sort of response is perhaps expected from the viewer since this is a tragic tale of how even the kindest of boys can transform into vicious men if they swim in a pool of muck for too long.
‘Noblemen’ is one of the very few Indian films that seriously explore just how problematic homophobia is. It also touches upon the themes of abusive families, teen suicides, substance abuse and toxic masculinity. There is a heart-wrenching scene in the film where Shay’s pet dies (the symbolism might be lost on some) and it also marks the demise of his own innocence.
The only problem I had while watching this film was the thought that it could be misinterpreted as glorifying bullying, although it doesn’t. Instead, I hope it forces people to rethink just what kind of values are being imparted to children when they are young.
Kataria’s film is a stark reminder of just how important schools are in the growth of an individual’s character. The bullies however get the end they deserve and the viewers get a clever dark climax. I would recommend it to anybody who would’t mind watching a modern, melancholic movie about evil little men.
July 12, 2020
Weddings and Lockdowns
It’s 11 pm in my part of the world and I am having a nice hot cup of tea. So comforting.
But here’s what happened today – two of my closest friends got married and the wedding ceremony started at 7.30 am. I can’t really remember the last time I woke up at 5.30 am in the morning to get ready, but I do remember when I slept at that time last – day before.
With Covid-19 crippling travel across the country, we don’t do short trips and treks anymore. Those are the only things I usually wake up early for – flights and hikes. I honestly just wanted to cry when my 5.30 am alarm started ringing, since we had partied till 2 am. Despite knowing fully well that all of us had to be ready by 7 am for the wedding. But hey, how can you not party the night with the bride and the groom?! Especially when the groom is my high-school friend and the bride is my college friend. Yes, I played ‘cupid’. And I haven’t been this happy for two people in a long time.
It’s the first wedding we were attending in ‘the times of Covid19’. And gosh, it had been a bit of a nightmare for the couple to plan everything. Because when they had decided on their wedding date, the covid cases in the city were pretty low. But just two weeks before the wedding, new rules were rolled in – due to spike in cases. One of the new rules was – a total lockdown every Sunday. Guess what – the wedding was on Sunday. First there was panic and then came all the planning. The couple had to rush to cops and local officials to figure out permissions and everything. With a generous dollop of stress on the sides.
Now that the wedding is done with, I am so glad they decided to go ahead with it and just be done. Because given the situation, it looks like things are only going to get worse. And that they would have had a tougher time if the wedding date was any later. Just yesterday night, the state government decided to impose a complete lockdown in the city from day-after, for nine days. Welcome to unexpected times! We got saved by a day!
