Spark - May 2012 Issue by Spark Editor

Spark

MĂŠlange

Word.World.Wisdom May 2012

May 2012 Mélange

05 May 2012

Dear Reader, We are happy to present the May 2012 issue of Spark themed, ‘Mélange’. True to the spirit of this theme, we have a variety of contributions this time touching upon different topics. We also have a special feature lined up for you. We speak to people who run some passionate initiatives that have a focus on regional culture.

CONTRIBUTORS: AMRITA SARKAR ANJANA PRABHU ANUPAMA KRISHNAKUMAR GAURI TRIVEDI

Don’t miss our new section, ‘Social Lens’ - Spark’s conscious step to do its bit for social development. We have an interview with Padmini Swaminathan, noted feminist economist.

PHILIP JOHN

And well, there’s ‘The Lounge’ too with some interesting selection of non-fiction—the perfect way to unwind.

SWATI SENGUPTA

Happy reading! We will see you next month with yet anther interesting theme!

VANI VISWANATHAN

Editors COVER PAGE ART : Swati Sengupta

PARTH PANDYA PRIYA SREERAM

TANUJ KHOSLA

YAYAATI JOSHI

VOICE OF THE MONTH: PADMINI SWAMINATHAN

SPECIAL FEATURE: ATTA GALATTA CHENNAI DRAMA HOUSE DUDE TAMIZHA KREEDA

CONCEPT, EDITING, DESIGN: ANUPAMA KRISHNAKUMAR VANI VISWANATHAN

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

SPARK : MAY 2012—Mélange The Obvious Child—Poetry by Philip John Ramaiyaa’s Six—Fiction by Tanuj Khosla Etcetera…—Photography by Anjana Prabhu A Mélange of Inspiring Measures—Special Feature by Anupama Krishnakumar A Submissive Heart—Poetry by Parth Pandya This Boy Across the Street—Non-fiction by Gauri Trivedi Some Scrubbing for Shyamala—Fiction by Vani Viswanathan The Night Before Christmas—Art by Amrita Sarkar SOCIAL LENS | Interview with Padmini Swaminathan by Vani Viswanathan

The Obvious Child by philip john

I am the second child, the obvious child I am not listening to you; my river runs a little wild I am not a solid block of colour like my older sister I am a mélange, a salad bowl, an ambivalent mixture A part of me walks the line, stays the course, dances to the tune Another part of me wants to be your lover under the lambent moon There goes the older child, the wiser child; she wants to be a lawyer Here comes the second child, the obvious child; he wants to be a painter She knows what she wants, she rarely complains, she pays the bills He floats like a bubble; he serenades broken rainbows in gasoline spills How did two apples from the same tree fall so many miles apart, Mama says How will the obvious child survive, when will he exorcise his dreamy ways Mother, I’ve got no plans to raise a child or sway to the beat of sanitized duets I want to raise gooseflesh; I want to waltz into the dreams of dangerous poets I wish I was the rooted, weathered rock that our culture expects a man to be But I’m a travelling circus of many moods, a deviant branch of the family tree I am the second child, the obvious child I am not listening to you; my river runs a little wild I’m no steady man, no solid block of colour, no clockwork orange I’m a salad bowl, a sort of ambivalent mixture, a nervous mélange.

Poetry

puzzlescript

Ramaiyaaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Six A grandson remembers his cricket-crazy grandfather and a six that made a world of a difference. Tanuj Khosla pens a story.

Fiction by tanuj khosla

Ramaiyaa’s Six “Did Ramaiyaa hit a six? Did India win?” asked my grandfather while I was watching the third Ashes Test Match between England and Australia in our living room. “No dadu. India is not playing today,” I replied warmly. He appeared forlorn and slowly limped back to his room using his stick. I continued to gaze in his direction long after he was gone. This was not the first time such a thing had happened. In fact, I used to have a tough time controlling my tears when similar episodes took place on a daily basis about three years ago. However with the passage of my time I had reconciled to the loss of my best friend and the most passionate cricket lover I know –my dadu, Shri Suresh Kalyan Babu.

ed Naxalities in 2002. Dadu was at Eden Gardens that day to watch a Ranji trophy match between Assam and West Bengal. He came to stay with us in Delhi after battling loneliness for a few months, much to the displeasure of ma. Dadu and ma didn’t speak much to each other. Since baba was mostly away on tours, there used to be an eerie silence at home most times, broken only by the sound of cricket commentary on TV.

Dadu introduced me to the game, taught me its nuances and recounted fascinating stories of his ‘meetings’ with many famous cricketers. He followed all cricket matches that were televised, even if they were between some remote county teams of England. He was a walking encyclopedia on the game and its players. As for me, I became hooked instantly and my fondest childhood memories are that of being huddled with him on his bed watching Dadu was a district level cricket player himself in his a match. I used to dig my fingers into popcorn while youth, but family responsibilities made him switch he savoured his favourite mishti doi. How we used to a more ‘stable’ career in accountancy. However to hug each other when India won a close game! his zeal for the game remained undiminished. Even today, people in old Calcutta remember a 40-year- Then on April 22, 2007 everything changed. old accountant, his forehead painted with the Apart from me, there is at least one other person names of Kapil Dev, Gavaskar and Amarnath, runwho shall never forget that date – Indian cricket ning about like a demented man on the streets with player K.Ramaiyaa. It was on this day that the shy the tricolour in his hand, when Indians lifted the looking off-spinner from Tamil Nadu made his ODI World Cup in 1983. The entire neighbourhood was debut against South Africa at Rajkot. The touring treated by him to unlimited mishti doi that day. He team slammed 312 on a flat wicket. The Indians broke his FDs to buy Pavilion tickets for the whole gave a spirited reply and were coasting along until a family for the World Cup semi-final between India middle order collapse tilted the scales in South Afriand Sri Lanka at Eden Gardens in 1996, only to be ca’s favour. Finally it boiled down to five runs of the bedridden with depression for weeks after that day. last ball with the last man K.Ramaiyaa on strike. Sachin Tendulkar and Sourav Ganguly were his faThe lanky lad swung across the line with all his vourites; the former for his cricketing abilities and might and had the middle stump knocked out of the the latter for being a ‘son of the soil’. ground. I have no doubt that it was his passion for the game Dadu was extremely furious and upset at that same that kept him sane when he lost dadi, chacha and time. Muttering obscenities in Bengali under his chachi to a violent attack on their village by suspect- breath, he stormed out of the house to perform his

Fiction by tanuj khosla

Ramaiyaa’s Six weekly chore of getting groceries. Next thing I remember hearing is the deafening sound of screeching tyres. Eye witnesses say that had the bus driver not braked hard, dadu’s body would have been flung at least 20 feet across the street.

this way. I thought ma wouldn’t care, but to my utter surprise her attitude towards him changed completely. Today I can proudly say that in the last three and a half years she has tended to him as lovingly as a daughter would have.

The accident broke 13 bones and completely splintered dadu’s right knee. However it had its biggest impact on his brain. His mind totally lost sense of place and time. He remembered us but not the fact that he was in Delhi or dadi was no more, or whether he had eaten lunch or not. He repeated the same thing again and again, each time as enthusiastically as the previous one. Cricket, which used to be his life, was reduced to querying about Ramaiyaa hitting a six to clinch a victory.

I tried to bring my old dadu back by making him watch cricket matches while feeding him mishti doi. But each time he just sat there with a lost expression on his face, occasionally inquiring about Ramaiyaa’s six.

Baba and I were completely shattered to see him

Even cricket couldn’t heal its greatest fan. Six days after I wrote this, dadu didn’t get up from his sleep. That evening, Ramaiyaa hit a last ball six against South Africa in Jaipur to clinch the Premier Cola Cup for India.

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Fiction by tanuj khosla

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Photography by anjana prabhu

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Photography by anjana prabhu

A Mélange of Inspiring Measures A SPECIAL FEATURE by anupama krishnakumar

India is a melange of many cultures – each with its own characteristics. If you have lived in India, whichever part of the country you may belong to, one of the things that keeps you implicitly connected with your place, no matter where you go or whichever part of the world you live in, is the defining culture of that region. Wouldn’t you think it is great to actually have some initiatives that help you sustain the connection with your culture, ones that take you closer to your roots? When we speak of culture, and initiatives that help you connect with your own, the Tamilian and his or her connection with the Tamil culture could very well be considered a case in point. We, at Spark, looked around and found some very interesting ventures that are passionate about bringing regional culture to the fore with particular focus on Tamil culture. Here’s a special feature by Anupama Krishnakumar on a melange of inspiring measures. Additional inputs from Vani Viswanathan.

REGIONAL CULTURE—Sustaining the Connect

REGIONAL CULTURE—Sustaining the Connect Think India and one of the first adjectives that comes to mind is ‘diverse’. The country is a melange of many cultures – each with its own characteristics. If you have lived in India, whichever part of the country you may belong to, one of the things that keeps you implicitly connected with your place, no matter where you go or whichever part of the world you live in, is the defining culture of that region. That ‘affection,’ if we can call it that, is undeniably a hidden part of our own selves, something that is dissolved in our identities – one that ties us firmly to our roots. These are ways of life or things that we relate to, those that we have grown up with and have partly forgotten, or very interesting cultural aspects that have been buried under layers of western influences, or certain things that we long for consciously or unconsciously in our lives whose courses have changed in such ways, that more often than not, we have moved away from our roots. These are little celebrations of our way of life, ways of a place we belong to, and in a larger sense, what identifies us in the global cultural landscape. Now picture this. Wouldn’t you love it if you found a bookstore that fills its shelves exclusively with known and unknown works of literature in your mother tongue? A collection that you can dip into and rejoice a rare find? Or, how about this? A variety of T-shirts to choose from – only that the tees speak of the sweet nothings of your region’s culture – things that you have grown up watching. Wouldn’t that be cool? Did you know that variations of Snakes and Ladders and Ludo have existed as part of our regional cultures for ages now? And these games were played by families during our grandparents’ times? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to play the Indian versions with our own children? Or just when you are thinking you need a break, how about unwinding by watching a play in your native language? The con-

nection that you may feel when watching it is definitely worth it, isn’t it? Well, there are actually immensely creative people who have gone that extra mile to make all these things possible. And perhaps, there are many, many more such initiatives happening this very instant and this could very well be the tip of the iceberg. The bottomline is this: ventures such as these help people maintain the ‘connect’ with their regional culture and in such interesting ways! When we speak of culture, and initiatives that help you connect with your own, the Tamilian and his or her connection with the Tamil culture could very well be considered a case in point. And, looking around, it doesn’t take long to single out ventures that have Tamil culture at the core or as an inclusive part of its mission. The Tamil Connection Chennai-based Dude Tamizha is one such interesting idea. Conceptualised, implemented and managed by Nandhini Charanyaa and J.Senthilnathan, Dude Tamizha celebrates the spirit of Tamil culture in a light-hearted way. Their line of T-shirts is inspired by different aspects of the Tamilian way of life. The duo, who were part of the advertising industry wanted to create a new and innovative product. “We wanted to create a new brand, something that appeals to us. We are basically Tamilians and love lot of things related to Tamil Nadu. So we decided to do something related to Tamil, with humour as the platform,” says Nathan. Chennai Drama House, a Tamil theatre group, has an equally interesting story on its genesis. The troupe, which has been around since 2008, came about because a bunch of friends from Vidya Mandir School, Chennai, decided to recreate the good times they had in school, staging many successful skits.

A SPECIAL FEATURE

A Mélange of Inspiring Measures Says Vivek Rajagopal, the brain behind the group and the Writer and Director of its plays, “When we all finished college and started working, we were looking to recreate the good times we had in school and we zeroed in on the Tamil theatre as the best forum to unleash our creative side.”

get to first. Many traditional games are similar across the board. There may be regional variations but for all intents and purposes they are the same.” So apart from Tamil games, Kreeda has also been involved in researching and identifying games in other regions of India.

Atta Galatta, a Bangalore-based bookstore and Kreeda, a games venture based in Chennai have a broader operating focus, of which Tamil culture is an important part. Atta Galatta focuses on Indian writing, particularly vernacular literature. Apart from Tamil titles, the shop also showcases books in Kannada, Telugu, Malayalam and English. Subodh Sankar, who founded Atta Galatta, along with wife Lalitha Lakshmi, says that their common love for books prompted them to open a bookstore. Quiz him why regional literature and he responds, “It was a constant challenge for both of us, as readers of Tamil literature, to find vernacular writing in the mainstream bookstores”. Further, enquiring around, he realised that those who read Tamil books but lived outside the state, purchased the books from Tamil Nadu when they went there. Similarly, those who wanted to pick Kannada books had to go searching for them in towns or in the sidewalks. The demand, he says, made them decide to focus on Indian writing.

The children’s section at Atta Galatta Bookstore. Pic courtesy : Atta Galatta

Research as the Base

Sidhartha points to a disturbing trend – the fact that households have moved away from playing traditional games. “Fewer children live with their grandparents these days and further, even within nuclear families there is less time being spent together as a family,” she reasons. Consequently, even though children today have heard of games like Pallankuzhi Kreeda’s Tamil connection goes over a decade back and Bambaram, they do not have a strong emotional connect with traditional games. Lack of awareness, in time. Kreeda was born as a result of a research the coming in of games from the West and more imconducted by an editorial agency in Chennai. The portantly, absence of documentation on how tradiresearch was about traditional Indian games and subsequently, it extended to an effort of reviving the tional games need to be played are some of the reasons why they have begun fading out from our lives. games that are dying. A host of traditional Tamil games such as Aadu Puli Aatam, Parama Pada Sop- Kreeda, therefore, has relied extensively on research to build its game collection. “Research about the panam, Kattam Vilayattu, Bambaram and Palgames is an on-going effort; we are always talking to languzhi feature in Kreeda’s list of games. Why is that the case? Answers Vinita Sidhartha, who heads people and documenting the procedures, cultural Kreeda, “Yes, we have a lot of games that are Tamil, components, the way people play, and the sociologibut it’s a factor of whichever version of the game we cal aspects,” Sidhartha elaborates.

A SPECIAL FEATURE

REGIONAL CULTURE—Sustaining the Connect Atta Galatta too has an interesting research methodology. “We've tried to create a 'panel' of people that help us select books in each language. Each person in this panel has helped us with a book list, and compiling the list from these panelists has helped us identify what books to carry,” informs Sankar. These panel members are either a part of the publishing world or are authors or book lovers. Although Atta Galatta was launched only in March 2012, Sankar and Lakshmi have been working on the idea for over a year. Their research also involved identifying as many publishers and distributors as possible. “We Dude Tamizha’s “Petromax” Tee. Pic courtesy : Dude have around 600 Tamil books as of now, and the list Tamizha is growing on an almost weekly basis,” Sankar mentions. business professionals are the chaps who buy more,” says Nandhini. Taking the Humour Route Chennai Drama House too has built its plays solidly Meanwhile, Dude Tamizha’s approach has been on humour. The theatre group, which consists of more about understanding the pulse of what people working professionals and students aged between will really enjoy, and the answer, no doubt, is hu20 and 27, has three plays to its credit. “The USP of mour. “We stand out because we are whacky and our plays has been clean humour sans vulgarity,” we have the humour,” says Nathan. Their trendy Karthik Bhatt, one of the members, points out. ChenTees are a testimony. One of Dude Tamizha’s T-shirts nai Drama House’s first production, Kandapadi carries the message, ‘Petro Max Lightey Thaan VenuKandupidi was a full-length comedy and so was their ma?” (Do you want Petro Max Light Only?) – a popusecond play, Indru Poi Netru Vaa, which also won lar dialogue from a comedy sequence in a Tamil film. many awards. The team has recently come out with They also have T-shirts that say ‘Coffee Kudigarargal its third production Kurukku Vazhiyil Oru Traffic Jam, Club – Cheers!’, ‘How to Vittufy Bambaram’, a comedy play again, keeping in line with the en‘Recycling My Amma’s Way’ – an indication of the couraging response it received for its first two plays. Tamil way of throwing out junk and newspapers and “Our intention is to draw more youngsters into the buying a new bucket in exchange. Adds Nandhini, “If drama-watching fold and make them aware of the the Tamil is sugar-coated, people will pick. We have existence of a vibrant and challenging art form,” realised this slowly. Today, if you mix English and Bhatt opines. And humour, no doubt, is a fine route Tamil, people like it. They want to flaunt Tamil in a to take! cool way.” And this mix of English and Tamil is obvious from the brand’s name too. Many buyers of Going the Activities Way Dude Tamizha’s English-Tamil Tees are from the 20If humour is one way to take Tamil and the Tamilian 35 age group. Ask Nandhini and Nathan if they mean way of life to people, interesting activities that inthe children of the 80s and they chuckle in agreevolve them as part of the process is yet another way. ment. “Yes, they relate to our ideas a lot…The IT and Atta Galatta does just that. Says Sankar,

A SPECIAL FEATURE

A Mélange of Inspiring Measures “The focus of Atta Galatta is to grow into a venue for all kinds of literary activity. We've started work on this, by creating a calendar of events that are based around reading, writing, storytelling, theatre, etc.” He believes that these are ways by which literature can be shared among people. Sankar also makes another encouraging point. There’s this constant worry that today, the English-oriented academic environment is taking the focus away from reading and understanding vernacular literature. Sankar, however, differs in his point of view. “From the response we've seen so far, we believe that the notion that English oriented academics is destroying regional language literature is not as pronounced as people make it out to be. Most people who visit the store converse in English with us, and with each other, but are picking up a Tamil or Kannada book to read,” he observes.

Sidhartha, on a positive note. And she insists that the focus of these games is to have fun, and fun is such an important part of the human psyche. “Games,” she says, “are one of the true sources for spontaneous laughter.” Repackaging is the Key The trend then is to repackage your offering and make it attractive for today’s audience. Sidhartha agrees. The games, even though they are traditional, should have a global quality, she feels. This means the games have to be designed such that they look attractive and fascinating, thus creating the desire to play them. “The biggest compliment for us is when someone remarked on how beautiful our games are. It’s not just the games themselves, it’s how they are packaged as well,” she says. Theatre too, it appears, undergoes its share of transformation. Chennai Drama House, for instance, stays away from clichéd themes such as family, relationships etc. –themes, they say, that are already doing the rounds. For this young group, ‘contemporary’ is the watchword. “Our themes are contemporary and we focus on those that appeal to an entirely new generation of theatre audience. This, we feel, is essential in getting people to come and watch Tamil plays,” shares Bhatt, reiterating this trend.

Kreeda’s Aadu Puli Attam Game. Pic courtesy : Kreeda

For its part, Kreeda too has been very active with its workshops to create awareness and build interest for traditional games. Kreeda has conducted workshops in schools, not just for children but for teachers too. It has also conducted inter-school competitions for children in games such as Aadu Puli Aatam and Pallanguzhi. “Whenever we have workshops, we see parents and children are both around. The response from both segments has been fantastic,” says

A Scene from the Chennai Drama House Play, ‘Indru Poi Netru Vaa’. Pic courtesy : Chennai Drama House

A SPECIAL FEATURE

REGIONAL CULTURE—Sustaining the Connect Dude Tamizha’s shop space is a fine example of repackaging. Their shop in Chennai is modelled like a Tea Kadai or a Tea Shop. “The Tea Kadai is true Tamilian identity,” says Nandhini, who along with Nathan, developed the concept and look of the shop, which has glass jars, lanterns, hanging bananas and a tea pot, put together in such a way that it looks like a ‘cool’ tea shop. In fact, this is true of their business model itself. “Tamil on T-shirts is definitely not a new idea, but the way we have done it is completely innovative,” says Nathan.

requirements in mind, according to Sankar. “We've had very few people that have come to simply browse, and we believe it's because of the focus that we have,” he adds.

The Atta Galatta Bookstore. Pic courtesy : Atta Galatta

Dude Tamizha’s popularity is evident from the fact that they initially started off by selling their T-shirts on Facebook and it garnered a lot of positive reaction. Yet, when they decided to expand the business by opening a shop, they were a little hesitant. “We took a big risk actually. Operating under a Tea Kadai and selling Tamil T-shirts is something very niche and Dude Tamizha’s Tee Kadai in Chennai. Pic courtesy : Dude we were not sure how people would react to our Tamizha creative ideas. But it has been going good,” admits Atta Galatta’s tastefully designed building that gives Nathan. Nandhini and Nathan are keen on capturing the young market too, those below 20 years of age it the feel of a traditional home is also a fine instance and they hope to achieve it by going the sugarof giving ‘cool’ a new meaning. In fact, the building coated Tamil way! surrounded by five silver oak trees has been drawing lot of praise. With the brick walls and earthy colours, Kreeda’s games have been popular not just in India Chettinad pillars and wooden chairs, Sankar and Lak- but globally too. According to Sidhartha, outside of shmi have given their bookstore a refreshing look – a India, it’s not just the Indians who buy them. “It’s new perspective to a bookstore. Regional literature, very encouraging,” she adds. bread and cup cakes, and various literary activities Chennai Drama House holds that Tamil theatre conco-exist in this interesting space. That sure is a tinues to be more about personalities than troupes tempting package! themselves in terms of crowd pull. In spite of this, good work is being appreciated these days, which is They say, ‘We love it’! encouraging. Says Rajagopal, “Of late, people are appreciating good work and there is a fair amount of Atta Galatta attracts people of all age groups. And crowd for relatively unknown troupes that are permost of them come looking for books with specific

A SPECIAL FEATURE

A Mélange of Inspiring Measures forming well.” Apart from Chennai, the group has also performed in Bangalore, Secunderabad and Salem. Interestingly, according to Bhatt, the audience turnout and response at these places have at times been more than what they have seen in Chennai!

We spin dreams too! Kreeda’s spinning top, Bambaram. Pic courtesy : Kreeda

A Scene from the Chennai Drama House Play, ‘Indru Poi Netru Vaa’. Pic courtesy : Chennai Drama House

ences to the Tamil stage through their performances.

Heart-warming, indeed! The spirit of these people and whatever they are doing to sustain the connect Dreams Unlimited between a culture and its people, and what they hope to achieve tomorrow. In the long run, let’s The positive response that these ideas have been eliciting prompts their creators to dream more of a hope that this lovely melange of measures achieves what is possibly the biggest mission of such endeavbrighter, more fulfilling future. After all, what are ours – taking Tamil and other such regional cultures initiatives close to the heart without a bunch of dreams? While Kreeda is hoping to open up to more to not just Indians but to the global audience as well. And let’s hope too that many more of such interpeople throughout India through its soon-to-open esting ideas bloom; for the sake of a lovely future. online shopping section and sees itself launching more games and interacting even more with people, We need them. Atta Galatta is keen on strengthening its focus on FACEBOOK LINKS: creating events that promotes literature and literary activity. They are also looking to increase the num- Atta Galatta ber of titles in their store. Expansion features in Chennai Drama House Dude Tamizha’s future plans. They want to open more outlets in other cities inside Tamil Nadu and Dude Tamizha are also contemplating on expanding their merchanKreeda dise – these would be something different and not stuff like coasters or pen stands or coffee mugs! Chennai Drama House intends to stick to their clean humour principle and hopes to bring more new audi-

A SPECIAL FEATURE

A Submissive Heart Tonight again The moonlight breathes A white breath On the ripples of this manic water

Tonight again The reed hinges on its roots Holding on to the soil

But the river only took

In a sheer act of will

That which would commit to it Fish, flotsam, flowers,

The hungry river

Logs, toxins, ashes

Will uproot it one day â&#x20AC;&#x153;Let it be me,â&#x20AC;?

It would also take a heart

He wishes aloud, standing on the bank

If it were to submit to it But half-hearts were anathema

Across the river,

To one that knew no half-measures

A fire singes the air Her tender flesh accenting

So he blames the river

The night sky in misty white

And bids her goodbye Taking up residence

The crackling of the pyre

In the country of remorse

Forges a gentle melody With the waves

And so that love, slated for eternity

Lapping the shore

Becomes a story of mortal failings One lover reduced to a heap of ashes

He wishes the current

And the other consigned to a life of reason.

Would claim him, Would carry his failing legs, Would walk his steps for him

Poetry by parth pandya

This Boy Across the Street

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â&#x20AC;&#x153;The art of reading faces is yet unknown to me but the adolescent frame with an elytrous lure has its own story to tell,â&#x20AC;? writes Gauri Trivedi, of a teenager she has seen. This is the story of that boy across the street.

NON-FICTION

BY gauri trivedi

This Boy Across the Street I see him every day as I pass by where he resides. Golden hair and clear blue eyes, he is a passerby’s delight. The smile looks like it must have captured a million hearts and the dazzle in his eyes could brighten any day. The space he inhabits illuminates life, rousing a mirage of kinds. He is no ordinary guy, this boy across the street.

as I slept through the rest of that night. Funny, I did not dwell on any other outcome of that crash even for a minute.

The art of reading faces is yet unknown to me but the adolescent frame with an elytrous lure has its own story to tell. “I bet you were in college and in love with a pretty girl,” I talk to him from a distance as I revisit that fateful night again and watch the catastrophe unfold in front of my eyes.

is just a mile away, came a cocky retort. The trio supposed they were invincible as the young always do; one of them even more so as he got behind the wheel.

As soon as I woke up I knew something was amiss, the roads lay silent as if still mourning the night before. The entire lane was cordoned off and an investigation was being carried on. The hours passed and “Don’t you feel cold on snowy nights like these?”, the boundaries came off, traffic that side began to “Do you play an instrument or spend all your time on pick up. As I put on the local news for weather, it all the field?” As days go by I want to stop and have a came around. The “Unfortunate Roll Over” as they word, ask him some questions, know more about called it was indeed talk of the town. him. Scented candles, vibrant flowers, a hat and a Two boys and a girl, yes they were all 17, went to a baseball glove, surrounded by all his favourite posparty together to enjoy the summer fun. With falsessions, he has everything he needs. A guitar sits tered steps and in high spirits, they left at midnight in beside him for a couple of days before disappearing an attempt to get home. You should call mom for a inaudibly. ride, a friend who saw them leaving remarked. Home

There was a rush of adrenaline inside as the car sped past empty roads. The driver turned a corner way too fast and that’s when it flipped over. Bouncing on the vacant path it crossed the median doing somersaults; a one, a two and almost a third, landing in the grass on the wrong side. A blink of an eye and it was all over.

He was holding her hand across the barrier, facing the back seat where his girl was seated. The jolt and the hurt came later, much after the shock of being There wasn’t much I could do but say a quick prayer thrown around mercilessly. The girl was the only one for the injured and close the drapes. A general curios- who tried to scream but all that came out was a ity about the cause and an optimistic thought that whimper. She hung on to his hand first in desperation many passengers escape terrible looking accidents then in vain, the force of misfortune stronger than with minor injuries were the last things on my mind her grip.

BY gauri trivedi

NON-FICTION

A rush of tires, a screeching noise and loud banging thrice, one after the other at an interval almost rhythmic. Thereafter, complete silence. No cries for help, none howling in pain. Somehow the eerie stillness after that loud noise aroused my suspicion. Staying right across the road, I couldn’t stop myself from peeping out of the window. There it lay, a monstrous four wheeler with its headlights upside down. A small crowd had started to gather but I was afraid to step out, my own tryst with the road not so long ago forbade me from doing so. Soon enough the air was filled with sirens and aid which had started to arrive.

The rest of the minutes became immortal as they found their place in a police file. Sealed and signed just like the young couple’s fate who stepped into the car with him.

This Boy Across the Street A prohibited endeavour followed by a bad judgment, and two out of three, were now a bloody mess. The driver, he hurt where the airbag struck, the girl she bled from a shattered window. They suffered but they survived. The people who came with an ambulance said the only one who did not suffer was the boy with the golden hair. He did not have to be pulled out from the jumble. He did not have a single scar on him. The passenger door remained half open, a shoe lay beneath in the grass, a sign that he was there. The restraint of the seatbelt relinquished in the fervour to hold hands, nothing to confine him when thrown out on impact. An instant death, the paramedics ruled, as if it helped to know.

ended at that very spot. “He was so young, he was so young,” was all that came out of her, nearly incoherent in distress.

That evening echoes in my mind like yesterday, exigent to put aside. The family, the friends, the people he loved, drove up to see his final place. Sobs and tears filled the air. A grief that touched even the coldest of hearts engulfed the place. It didn’t take long to spot her in the weeping crowd, the mother whose plight was the hardest to bear. She cried unashamedly, begging for him to come back. It was as if her life

A silent spectator; a distant sufferer; a total stranger to him. I never heard of him before and still don’t know his name. The lost youth, the life ahead is a fraction of what I mourn. The empty nest of the one who gave birth, her loss is what I grieve. It is the mother in me that feels the pain and sometimes cries for him; hugging my children closer as I see his smiling face.

It’s been a whole year since he came here and never went back. He isn’t always alone like today as it appears to be. People come to see him and talk to him in whispers. Most of them young, a few of those old; also comes a woman who never wants to leave. She rushes to him, calls out for him, aching inside to be with him. She sits there and talks and touches him a lot. When it is time to go she needs a helping hand. A few of his friends come here too. None stay there for long, maybe he is a reminder of how it all went wrong.

BY gauri trivedi

NON-FICTION

crowdive

Some Scrubbing For Shyamala

Fiction by vani viswanathan

Mrs. Ramachandran lived a quiet, unassuming life until Judy Fleming from the UK came into make a difference. Find out what happened in this story by Vani Viswanathan.

Some Scrubbing For Shyamala Sitting with a stinging mash of fruits on her face, Shyamala shifted on her chair uncomfortably. Her head angled in a strange fashion, she felt weird to have her feet scrubbed vigorously by someone who ‘tsk’ed every time she fidgeted (she was ticklish; didn’t they understand?). Beyond everything, what contributed to the weirdness though, was her very presence in this place, smelling of mixed scents, women scurrying about, the dampness in the airconditioning. What was she, Shyamala Ramachandran, wife of the Head of Department (HOD) for Physics at the town university, doing here?? The answer is, well, fairly complex, and took the author a fair bit of snooping around and careful observation. You see, Mr. Ramachandran, as the head of the Physics department, had a nice, beautiful house, maintained, pruned and manicured lovingly by Mrs. Ramachandran, who willingly agreed to stay at home and devote her energies to keeping her husband happy in all ways possible, despite her own M.Sc., in Chemistry which could have taken her further had she wished. But no complaints she had, she was set in her role of playing the dutiful wife to the big man. Now as HOD, Mr. Ramachandran would have to frequently host a number of dignitaries. Other geniuses from Indian schools of technology and science. Scientists, donors who would throw a few hundred thousands to help him buy lab equipment for the Physics department, lecturers from overseas. Since he had such a well-maintained house, and add to that a committed, uncomplaining wife, his house was the first option given to these dignitaries to stay while they were visiting the university. The allure was especially strong for the overseas visitors – Mr.Ramachandran pitched his house as the perfect venue to get the quintessential Tamil Brahmin experience. Now, you may wonder why foreigners might be lured by that description or why they would even care, but well, there are some to whom experiencing

anything authentic was a very important feature of their trip to any ‘third world’ country. We would have loved it if they had other ‘cultures’ to see too, but with Mr. Ramachandran as the HOD – and you should know this about him, he is a very, very tenacious person – he snapped the guests up even before the Vice Chancellor could come in with his promise of an authentic Chettinad experience in his house, complete with the wooden pillars and courtyard. You ask what all this has to do with Mrs. Ramachandran in the parlour? If you think it was one of her regular visits before a foreign dignitary arrived, you are much mistaken. For, Mrs. Ramachandran prided herself on being untouched by these ‘Western’ influences; she was still gung-ho about not needing to use deodorant and happy with her use of besan powder rather than soap or turmeric to brighten her face, or the bright red dot she put on her forehead with kumkum rather than a sticker that most women use these days. Now again, if you think she looked like an image of Kali from an obscenely-animated Tamil movie, you are much mistaken, again. For, Mrs. Ramachandran made you want to stand up as soon as she enters the room, in respect and in awe of her sparkling beauty. I kid you not, her face shines, notwithstanding the two diamond mookuthis (nose studs) that shine brightly from either side of her nose. You know what they mean when they say ‘she has a tejas about her?’ I can be quite sure that the person dreamt of a face like Mrs. Ramachandran’s when she or he came up with it. So now that you know what kind of a person she is, you might be right in wondering what circumstances put her in the parlour. I will tell you now. Most dignitaries who arrived at the Ramachandrans were male. Really, are they such few female physicists, you would wonder. It is the reality. Of course, many women do study Physics for more than just

Fiction by vani viswanathan

Some Scrubbing For Shyamala having a degree to get married, but few take it as far as becoming a physicist of the kind that would get invited to the Ramachandrans. You might think this is just an Indian phenomenon, but actually it’s global. For the Ramachandrans had never hosted a foreign, female physicist.

stunning looks. ‘Yes, I mean to ask you,’ said Mrs. Ramachandran, ‘how do you manage looking so beautiful despite everything else that is taking so much of your time?’

prodded Mrs. Ramachandran out of her closet of only making polite conversation to having her discuss Organic Chemistry. Mr. Ramachandran continued to stare tongue-tied at his wife and Judy in conversation, though I can’t say if it was because of Judy or Mrs. Ramachandran’s knowledge that he had somehow never taken note of.

Mrs. Ramachandran nodded, disappointed, but curious all the same.

Judy and Mrs. Ramachandran began spending a lot of time together. Judy would finish her lectures and visits for the day and meet Mrs. Ramachandran in the evening, when the latter would take her to a temple or two in the city, to shops stocking Kanjeevarams, to hole-in-the-wall bookshops that stored second-hand classics from another era. Judy, on the other hand, told Mrs. Ramachandran things about her life, her married life that involved two divorces (at which Mrs. Ramachandran politely nodded without being judgmental), and eventually, about her

‘So you mean these cosmetic procedures don’t ruin your skin and such?’ she asked.

Judy threw her head back and laughed. Mrs. Ramachandran gasped as the curls in Judy’s chestnut This, of course, changed when Judy Fleming came in brown hair glowed in the sun. ‘What wouldn’t I do to from the UK. In her 60s, stunningly attractive, poised look as beautiful when I’m in my 60s,’ she thought, and classy – that was Judy for you. I wouldn’t be ex- mentally adding that this was barely a couple of aggerating when I say even Mr. Ramachandran, the years way. man of strict discipline and hardly any distractions, ‘Oh, honey,’ said Judy. ‘There is nothing that a little became a little tongue-tied around her. She charmed work at a beautician can’t do!’ the university faculty with her wit and knowledge, the students with her ability to keep them interested ‘A beautician?’ asked Mrs. Ramachandran, flummoxed. Did she mean this wasn’t (gasp!) natural? in the sometimes-dull world of Physics, and finally, neutral, unaffected Mrs. Ramachandran with her ‘Of course! I’m 64, my dear, my body has long grace. stopped working to keep me beautiful! Shall I let you in on something? This chestnut brown isn’t my real Judy took an especial interest in Mrs. Ramachanhair colour! Mine is actually white. But white is so… dran. ‘You are so beautiful!’ she’d say. ‘And so talented. I wish I could whisk you away to the UK!’ She boring!’

Judy fished out a photo from inside her wallet. ‘This was me, 20 years back!’ Mrs. Ramachandran took the photo and smiled. Judy look as beautiful as ever.

‘Not at all! Besides, what have we to lose at this age?’ ‘You are correct… but we Indians believe in…’ ‘Now, let’s see,’ said Judy, taking Mrs. Ramachandran’s face in her hands. ‘Such a well-defined chin! And soft cheekbones… but a bit of a patch on the cheeks… and my, my, you could do well with trimming these eyebrows into shape. And a good haircut, yes…’

Fiction by vani viswanathan

Some Scrubbing For Shyamala ‘Oh, Judy,’ Mrs. Ramachandran said, blushing and nonplussed at the same time. ‘I’m an old lady, why would I do these things now…’

hood maamis, who would surely have an obnoxious comment or two. She couldn’t go to the park, it was too dusty and it would mean at least half of the Rs. ‘But honey, you aren’t old at all! Besides, what’s the 6,322 would go to waste. She had no choice but to go home to her husband, who would not only be harm in looking good? No amount of recognition I get for my research will give me the confidence I get aghast at the amount spent, but also at her wanting to look younger. after a visit to my beautician!’ She passed by a car window and caught her reflection again. She had to admit it – she did look prettier. The hair was beautiful left loose like this, unlike the tight bun it was always drawn into. The eye‘All the more why you should try this, then! Let me brows being trimmed made the face look neater, tell you this. My last marriage happened when I was and yes that patch on the cheek was less visible 61. Really now, do you think who I am played as now. Why wouldn’t he like this! much a difference as my looks?’ She pushed open the main door gingerly and found Mrs. Ramachandran looked at Judy, unsure. They him seated on the sofa. ‘Shyamala! You are back.’ left for home, and Judy left the next morning after extracting a promise from Mrs. Ramachandran that She smiled at him. ‘Yes, I am! Tell me now, do you find anything strange? New?’ she would visit a beauty parlour that week, giving her a list of things she should do. ‘Yes, needed to ask you. I just got an SMS about Rs. And so, that’s how Mrs. Ramachandran ended up in 6,322 being spent on the card. Was it you?’ ‘Well, I don’t disagree, but what’s the point now… Mr. Ramachandran doesn’t have time to give me even a cursory glance…’

that uncomfortable chair with a fruit pack on her face and a pedicure in progress. The eyebrows had already been trimmed and her hair had been cut into a neat ‘U’.

‘Yes, it was me!’ beamed Mrs. Ramachandran. ‘Now what is it that you find different?’

‘Oh, good, I was worried it might have been someone else. I just got to know Mr. Xaxa is coming to It was only when Mrs. Ramachandran swiped her visit us again next week, we might need to change supplementary card at the counter that she remem- the curtains in the guest room. Did you just go to bered Mr. Ramachandran had no inkling of what was buy that?’ happening. She suddenly began to fret. He would be ‘No, I didn’t, but if you would just look up you would at home, see her in this state – trimmed eyebrows, know what I did…’ hair blow-dried and loose, dyed to a natural black with the greys gone, face glowing, feet beautiful and ‘I’m not interested, Shyamala, in your petty women issues. Just make sure the curtains are replaced. You toenails painted. And he would be Rs. 6,322 know Xaxa is an important person.’ (including taxes) poorer. What would he say?! ‘Ishwara!!’ she said loudly. ‘How did I not think of Mrs. Ramachandran drew a deep breath to calm this!’ herself down, and went into her room. Three months after that, she had become a regular at the She didn’t know what to do. Going to the temple parlour. Mr. Ramachandran didn’t bother with the would mean attracting the attention of neighbour-

Fiction by vani viswanathan

Some Scrubbing For Shyamala thousands, but paid the credit card bill every month unquestioningly. The maamis at the temple did have their comments for a month, but a few months down the line, I saw two of them sporting U-cuts and trimmed eyebrows too. To this day, Mrs. Ramachandran hasn’t told me why this transition happened. Last month, however, the talk among the temple

maamis was that she cried her eyes dry when Mr.Ramachandran told her about the fatal accident involving one Ms. Fleming in the UK. The woman who initiated this new change in her was gone...forever.

Do you own a copy of our anthology, ‘Sparkling Thoughts’?

Order it now at http://pothi.com/pothi/book/anupama-krishnakumar-sparkling-thoughts

Fiction by vani viswanathan

The Night Before Christmas

Art by amrita sarkar

Social Lens

May 2012

Bettering Womenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Socioeconomic Status : Still a Long Way to Go An Interview with Padmini Swaminathan Padmini Swaminathan is an internationally recognised feminist economist based in India. For nearly 30 years, she has studied development issues such as labour welfare, health and education, with a strong regional focus on south India, particularly Tamil Nadu. Currently with the Tata Institute of Social Sciences, Hyderabad, Swaminathan has previously also served as the Director of the Madras Institute of Development Studies in Chennai.

VOICE OF THE MONTH A reality check shows that the socioeconomic status of women in India is at abysmal levels, despite reservation policies for women to enter politics, a state that is active in terms of providing welfare, all set in the backdrop of a growing economy that is unfortunately not being inclusive. Padmini Swaminathan, eminent feminist economist, comments on the scenario, as Vani Viswanathan listens in.

Interview by vani viswanathan

An Interview with Padmini Swaminathan Right to Education, Midday Meal Scheme, Janani Suraksha Yojana – our governments have come up with an incredible number of programmes aimed at bettering the status of women, but we have not made much real progress. Illiteracy levels continue to be high, and the socio-economic status of women leaves much to be desired for. What, do you think, is the biggest impediment? Putting things in perspective, we need to realise that the more economic growth/development fails to generate gainful and decent employment, the longer it fails to be inclusive overall, the more that the government of the day will need to resort to welfare programmes and entitlements such as the above. Unless and until poverty and illiteracy elimination become integral parts of the growth paradigm as in Cuba, politically, we will be forced to continue with the above; and however well they are implemented, their impact will be minimal since such schemes/ programmes, of themselves, cannot address the larger issues of unemployment/underemployment and/or decent employment of men/women/ households, which is what is required to empower people to take hold of their lives.

You had mentioned at a talk at TISS, Mumbai that despite literacy among non-working women being higher than literacy among working women, it is not translating to organised employment opportunities in the formal sector. This is a disturbing trend considering we tend to hail education as a very important component of the solution for alleviating poverty. What are your comments on this scenario? My observation regarding divergence in formal education and employment in the case of women and particularly urban women was based on analysis of Census data. The observed pattern indeed is disturbing. But as yet we have no credible large scale research to help us comprehend why this is happening. It is hoped that the Central Statistical Organization will conduct a large scale survey across the country specifically to net reasons why the proportion of educated women in the labour force is not increasing. Till then students could be encouraged to undertake micro level studies covering some of the urban areas of the country. Do you think that through a number of policies that do aim to do good, the state is unconsciously reinforcing gender stereotypes and contributing to women’s subordination? It could be conscious also. Not just the state but a lot of us fall into the trap of suggesting measures ostensibly to help women but end up reinforcing stereotypes and essentializing women’s and men’s roles in society. Just to give an example: only till the lactating period do you need a crèche facility at the mother’s place of work. Beyond the lactating period, the crèche could as well be at the father’s place of work. But how many of us demand that crèche facilities be provided at men’s place of work too?

Women’s Socio Economic Development

VOICE OF THE MONTH

We have made attempts, through reservation, to bring more women into politics. What potential does this hold? How far have we come, and do you think there are noteworthy successes anywhere? The 73rd Amendment to the Constitution to bring in women into Local Bodies has without doubt made a tremendous difference despite a range of criticisms, which however are neither unfounded nor insurmountable. What is to be considered as ‘noteworthy successes’ is relative and depends on the context. For example, areas where NGO presence is strong, handholding of women representatives by the NGOs has enabled these women to withstand several forms of backlash that such an amendment to the Constitution has brought about in local level politics; where such handholding process has been weak or non-existent, it has been left to individual woman or communities of women to face the situation with mixed results. But what is noteworthy is that however strong or inimical the patriarchal structure on the ground, it has had to contend with the fact that this amendment to the Constitution opening the doors

for large numbers of women to participate in local level politics has come to stay. In my opinion, it is this realisation that has made political parties across the spectrum to unite and stall the entry of women into Parliament.

An Interview with Padmini Swaminathan As women try to negotiate their roles in the society, perhaps aided by developmental activities that seek to empower them, what structural changes occur? How is our society reacting to these changes?

them to do. This growing fact and realisation is however not translating into diminished emphasis on son preference. A different but equally important phenomenon is the growing assertion by hitherto marginalised members of our society, women included. Rather than reading this phenomenon positively, our Personally speaking, between late eighties (when I patriarchal and hierarchy-ridden society either began researching on womenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s issues) and now, some structural changes are starkly visible but I am blames it on â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;feminismâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; (which it sees as Western and therefore alien to Indian society) and/or poses not sure how much society has changed to acknowledge and address this structural change. To the problem as one of the ascendancy of non-merit over merit. In short, the current structure of our sogive an example: the Hindu society provides a reliciety is not willing to let go of its privileges and gious reason for its son preference. In the last two decades, it is quite visible to anyone with open eyes squarely recognise that it can no longer continue to and mind, that large numbers of sons have migrated perpetrate the kind of social, including gender injustice, that it has practiced all these years. abroad and are generally not available to perform their function of either looking after their elderly parents or the last rites of their parents that their religion ordains

Interview by vani viswanathan

VOICE OF THE MONTH

Picture by Asha Sudhaker Shenoy

The Lounge

May 2012

Housefull2: Living up to its name, and provoking many thoughts Film Freak By yayaati joshi

Yayaati Joshi is befuddled as to why Housefull2 runs to packed houses when critics have written it off. And he has an inkling of an answer, which questions the very basic measure of a movie’s success: the box office. Read on to find out. I chatted with a friend of mine a couple of weeks ago. ‘Out with family to see Housefull 2.Tickets not available’. There was a colon and a parenthesis indicative of a sad mood after the short message. I wondered why the movie would run to packed houses when it had been panned by critics all over. In the middle of the film, she texted again, ‘It’s foolish. But it’s fun’. Not to be bothered either with the scurrilous criticism of the reviewers, or with the populist acceptance of the friend, I went to see the movie myself. It was being shown at two cinema

halls, and I had to go the second one, because the first was sold out. Fifteen minutes into the film, and seeing Rishi Kapoor, a revered actor of yesteryears, who’s had his share of bad films, perform actions which were to be construed as comedy, I had passed my judgment on the film. It was to be inveighed; moviegoers deserve better. Where are the Indie films when you need them (yes, I mean Oye Lucky LuckyOye)? I’d love to discuss the simple mindedly populist ‘plot’ of the film, but it’s not worth the reader’s time.

Storyboard

Film Freak And yet, one wonders why a film, as poorly made as this, would be a commercial success, while Paan Singh Tomar had to wait two years to get released because it couldn’t find any distributors? The answer to this question doesn’t come easy. Calling the film low-brow, and explaining that it appeals to the front benchers only, runs the risk of being dubbed as a culture snob. Like it, like some did, and you become an inseparable part of the masses that will cringe if told to watch a Terrence Malik movie. Doing neither, and being indifferent makes you the navel-gazing blogger who would stop at nothing to snub a film by simply ignoring it. Torn between the complex trinity of the above choices, I chose to do the first. At no point in the film did I feel that it was meant to be for those who turn to cinema for just entertainment – despite its mediocre script, the visual ‘grandeur’ of the film made it seem like the movie was meant for every kind of filmgoer. A no brainer it sure was; a deftly prepared comedy of errors it wasn’t. A dozen actors, of whom two are supposed to steal the show, one by flexing his arm often, the other by guffawing at his own jokes to make you realise that it was a joke indeed, cannot pull off the lack of class in the film.

hit back in Jurassic age, can finally claim to have been a part of a hit film. Everyone’s smiling (and some laughing rather loudly) and yet there’s something that is instantly lacking in quality. Take for example, the scene in which Asin (beautiful and talented, I was shocked to see her as a part of this film) talks on the phone and Akshay Kumar (with the same look on his face that he’s had since Hera Pheri) misunderstands and starts stripping: it is one of the most irritating (to say the least) scenes in the film. And Voila! That I guess is the problem. The director expects us to laugh at scenes which he thinks are funny, not those which could have been actually funny, in a new way, giving us some fresh material to giggle at. In a reductive way, the problem boils down to this: there isn’t enough new stuff to use, and to fill that void, the filmmakers have to resort to older techniques – an alleged comedy of errors (Housefull2), honest cop versus a corrupt system (Singham), unbelievable action scenes by muscle flaunting stars (Dabbang), and many other scripts that we have seen in one form or the other. It is in such situation that a film like Paan Singh Tomar stands out. It uses none of the worn out techniques, and gives the audience a fresh plot to look at.

It would be too simplistic to claim that the success of this film reflects poorly upon the tastes of the movie Star power? Check. Actors from the past? Check. Skin goers. The critics – the alleged smug-snobs who devshow? Check. ‘Laughter’? Check. Entertainment? ilishly criticise every film that they can – have been Check. Then what just is wrong with the film, one left stunned, but then, the critic can only voice his wonders. Commercial success, the most important opinion. In the end, if a movie has done well, there is yardstick by which a filmmaker can judge his product, not much to be said about the method by which it has come easy to the film. It still (three weeks after achieved success. Sadly, the use of only that benchthe release) is getting enough eyeballs to keep the mark to judge films is flawed. producers smiling. Akshay Kumar, who’d delivered a

yayaati joshi

Turn of the Page By anupama krishnakumar

Bookishly Yours... Anupama Krishnakumar writes on her world of books and all things bookish that find a place around her. If you are book crazy, then here’s something you are sure to relate to! Penguin India recently came out with a lovely selection of merchandise to mark the 25th anniversary of its operations in the country. The moment the publishing house posted details (and some pictures) of its merchandise - ranging from notebooks to key chains to baggage tags to coffee mugs to cloth bags on Facebook, I began to get restless with desire – I so wanted to grab them all. I dreamt that Penguin would make life as easy as they could for me – yes, I conveniently assumed that all their merchandise would be available online. But, much to my disappointment, it was not to be – at least then. I learnt that the stuff could be bought only at the Jaipur Literature Festival (JLF). Yes, yes, I sat and drooled like a typical bookworm, looking at the JLF website, around the same time that Penguin announced its merchandise – but I had only dreamt of visiting the JLF but not planned it. The merchandise, thus, eluded me with a firmer hand. So, you can imagine my surprise and delight (I use those words just to sound sober and sane), when I

walked into one of the Landmark stores in Madras to discover that they had displayed all the merchandise alluringly on a separate table. I spent a good half an hour there (only at that table), picking and choosing and taking important decisions. And no, I am not even going to tell you how much and what all I picked, or give you a chance to take a peek at how mad I can get at times when it comes to books and all things bookish. Let’s just say it all went well, the purchasing and all. So, now, jumping a good five weeks from then, I can tell you that I have planned and executed the placement of some of those merchandise around my writing table and have chosen the keys that would go with the coveted key chain. The only thing that I didn’t know how to put to best use was the cloth bag. Carrying the words, ‘A Suitable Bag’, modelled on Vikram Seth’s ‘A Suitable Boy’, this orange bag, ironically, didn’t find a suitable place. Well, nobody really displays bags, but, since this happens to be a special

Turn of the Page bag and I happen to be a crazy book addict, it’s obvious that I want to flaunt it inside the house too, when I am not going outside. So, one fine day, as I was sitting at my writing table, and gazing at my bookshelf to take my eyes off the laptop for a while, the knobs of the bookshelf’s glass door caught my eye. And well, I don’t care if you are giving me those stares, but yes, I hung the bag from the knob and it looks super cool.

Melville, Nesbit, Dumas, Verne, Hugo – they were all stuffed into one of the cupboards in our home. We never really had a bookshelf back then. Indian writing collection, as far as I can remember, was not as flamboyant as it is today – R.K.Narayan’s books and works of Jawaharlal Nehru are some that I can recall. Of course, Nancy Drew and Perry Mason were read during summer vacations with copies picked up from a local library. And then, there were those bound collections of Disney comics that were priced Rs.2/- per issue!

What’s there inside the bag now, is an easy guess – as easy as finishing a pack of potato chips (the statement made on a feasible assumption that the love for Yet, the real reader inside me or the reading taste potato chips is universal). To get to the point, yes, there are two books inside it right now, Lionel Shriver’s ‘Double Fault’ and Pradeep Sebastian’s ‘The Groaning Bookshelf’ – ones that I hope to read over the next few days. So, the bag does serve the exaggerated purpose assigned to it by its creative owner. There you see it – the truth. I think it’s fairly obvious. Books complete me. I feel from the bottom of my heart that they are a pleasure to live with. If you throw me into a party or a get-together where I know nobody, but spare me a good book, I can get through the party flipping pages or doing at least one or more or all of these – smelling the pages, running my fingers over the paper, admiring or hating the font, loving or loathing the cover, and of course reading it. If there is no book, I can survive with a discussion about books. It’s one of the few things I can have a meaningful conversation about. Ok, I have never been in such a crisis situation, so to speak, I mean, getting thrown into an unknown party – but you get the picture right? My childhood was spent amid books, like many kids. My father ensured that we had a good collection of classics – it was a thing of pride then (and still is perhaps!) to flaunt an enviable collection of classic literary writing from across the world – works by Dickens, O Henry, Austen, Bronte Sisters, Kipling, Stevenson,

Bookishly Yours...

that I possess today, now that I look back, was unleashed when I began working in Bombay. I used to walk down to the Oxford Bookstore in Colaba during weekends and sometimes even during late evenings on weekdays.

Turn of the Page I loved walking down alone especially when there was a drizzle and the air was cool. Marry that to the expectations of sifting through books and picking something that appeals to you – these thoughts are your only company as you walk in the rain. Poetic, isn’t it? Well, it really is. And it’s one of those very few sublime, soulful experiences that have given me what I can record as priceless moments of my life. It was something I looked forward to so much, that thinking of it even now, that veritable excitement that I used to feel back then returns unpretentiously. I began building my book collection from then on. Adding to the joy was the time I had at my disposal, travelling by the local train from Churchgate to Lower Parel in the mornings and vice-versa during evenings. I was lucky to travel against the crowd – that I always had the comfort of finding a seat in the local train and enough breathing space. I would get into the train, clutching a book in my hand. I loved reading in the train both ways, during lunch breaks at work and late into the night in the hostel. There were times when I used to read like I had nothing else to do in this world. I don’t remember reading with as much zest when I was at college, or even when I worked in a software firm. The true reader was born when the writer in me was revealed and polished, and that was when I chose to study journalism and later on, went to Bombay to work as a financial writer. Kazuo Ishiguro’s ‘Remains of the Day’, Vikram Seth’s ‘An Equal Music’, Gregory David Roberts’ ‘Shantaram’, Jean Sasson’s ‘Princess’ were some of the books that I read during this period.

they were packed in. I still have all of them with me. Today, I have a bookshelf that is full. Quite literally. I must say that it has been a very cooperative one – this piece of furniture, which was one of the first few gifts from my husband. With every book I buy, I hope I will find the space within this shelf and it hasn’t failed me thus far. It accepts heartily every little book that comes its way and within its wooden and glassy confines preserves many, many worlds created by a melange of words and also the peerless smell of printed books. Every time I open the shelf, this smell is what turns out to be my first temptation. It lures me to enter a world of million possibilities and endless dreams. Fiction, non-fiction, poetry and graphic novels – they are all there. I choose, I buy – driven by instinct, reviews, cover designs, prize lists and wellworded first five pages. Sometimes I regret choices and pretend to learn, but most times, I love what I read. And I must say I have a tough time deciding what to throw out. I buy books and also mentally chalk plans on how to read it tastefully. And so I build those little extras too – like a regular reading lamp and a tiny reading lamp that can be clipped to the pages of a book. And a tasteful assortment of bookmarks.

Now, did I say that I have a whole variety of bookmarks? From the ones Flipkart sends generously with every book that I order to the ones I have picked up from all the bookstores that I have gone to, to an autographed one to the ones made of handmade paper to one that’s made of metal to a cloth-based one that Sister got from Turkey? No, don’t even get me startWhen I got married, I brought with me a set of 60 ed! Let’s have that for another day. For when it books that was published by Penguin (global) on the comes to books, I can never stop talking. And writing. eve of its 60th birthday, back in 1997 and that my dad For, books, complete me. had purchased with great enthusiasm. It was a brilliant thing to watch, this collection as it was unveiled for the first time by my father – sixty little books, stuck to each other, looking up and beaming at us with their tiny orange spines from the brown box

anupama krishnakumar

Slice of Life By priya sreeram

Spunkyâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;Woof of Fresh Air

smerikal

Slice of Life Much as some of us might find it amusing, a significant portion of the world does live in dread of animals. Priya Sreeram is one of them. However, a little four-legged critter made her rethink her fear. Read on to know more about Spunky and how he woofed in some change. Life is always full of aspirations and a big bucket list! There is never a dearth of to-dos and the list only gets longer as the rigmaroles of day-to-day living take charge, leading to constant changes in priorities. But deep down, there is always the inner drive to make things happen and to just let go of whatever is holding us back! I am happy to say that I had earnestly put efforts into one must-do in my list – having a pet dog and loving it! Sounds weird, right? Let me explain.

mom’s friend’s place, my joy was short-lived as I spotted their pet. The dog, in its aim to capture my attention, started licking me all over and I rebuked its advances by trying to run away. Let me tell you one thing straight. You have heard this often: “Never run when a dog is around” –it is true! The dog comprehended my running away as playing and when his emotions were not reciprocated he was forced to show his other face (read growls and agitated barks). The dog just overpowered me and I have never shared a pally relationship with a dog, gripped my calf. Feeling his teeth over my skin and flesh, I went crazy and the panic that ensued added a cat, or for that matter, any animal. There has alto his agitation. He released his clutches only after ways been a vague feeling almost resembling fear running down my spine as soon as I come into con- some persistent goading. Those moments of utter vulnerability and helplessness still gives me goose tact with an animal. Owning a pet was neither a choice nor an option because both my parents were bumps. What resulted was an irrational fear not onworking. So my equation with animals was restrict- ly of dogs but of all animals. Till date, the very ed to looking at them from a safe distance. As long thought of being close to any animal creates a tension akin to a nuclear blast. To cut the long story as they preened from magazines or TV, I was ok. short, I became scarred for life and vowed never to The moment there was eye contact, the heart unleashed a torrent of unsettling emotions and I simp- share the same space with any pet. ly tore away from that place. And this held true for They say opposites attract, and it's true in my case: all encounters with stray dogs, cats – any kind of my husband is an animal lover and it was amusing animal, actually. The fear was etched so deeply that to him that a person could have such irrational fears as far as possible I even avoided going to any relaas mine. Though I knew that someday, that fear tives’ or friend’s house that had pets. would have to be tamed, the trials and tribulations of our daily affairs had us engrossed and owning a This fear started with a rather innocent incident, pet was definitely not on the top of our list. when I was around eight. At a get-together in my

priya sreeram

Spunky—Woof of Fresh Air One fine day when he told me about a Labrador pup available for adoption, a war raged in my head. Fighting headlong my fear was the thought that it was a baby animal after all; how bad could it get? What finally swung the decision in the pup’s favour was seeing my daughter sporting a long face. Secretly, I also wanted her to develop a sense of responsibility and more importantly, I did not want my kids to nurture the same fear that I had! So I finally said a half-hearted yes to bringing it home. The pup, barely 45 days old, became the new entrant into our chaotic home, made up of my husband, two children and me.

So I took it one day at a time and hoped to become a convert.

However, a few days later, just as I was trying to get used to the presence of a pet, Spunky had to leave. In our enthusiasm to bring the pup home, we had failed to check on the apartment’s policy. The residents had issues with the constant barking of the pup. A few neighbours worried if the pup might actually bite their kids. It amused me greatly, but of course, I am no one to judge, given the fact that I harboured some of their fears too (and well, still do). Also, my son seemed to have inherited my genes and bawled whenever Spunky came anyAfter a day, "Spunky" – a name suggested by me where close to him. These, coupled with a few othand accepted wholeheartedly by the family – aper personal concerns, eventually led to the pup havpeared well-adjusted. My husband and my kids ing to find a new home, leaving us in an emotional went crazy fawning over him and the pup was bask- quagmire. My daughter, who had already forged a ing in all the love. How did I react to his presence? bond with the pup, was heartbroken. To her credit, Actually, I slowly fought my fear of bumping over she understood the reasons and hopes to become a him in all odd places and having him sniff all over proud dog owner in the near future. As for me, I me. He was yet to be potty trained and that was a was glad to see him go (at least I'm truthful). I do cause of immense irritation. I have to admit that I miss his soulful and indulgent looks – not to menwas unnerved at times and wondered aloud wheth- tion the showers of welcome barks – but the many er I was too quick in deciding on this new addition demands of the baby were too much to handle to the family. My spur of the moment decision when I already had my hands full with a three-yearcould have probably waited a few more months, old son who is equally demanding. A fully grown but then I might never have taken this plunge and dog would probably have required less attention, procrastination would have reigned supreme. but then again, I may not have been comfortable around it. Friends and family who were dog lovers were thrilled to see me shed my fear, and promised a joy All said and done, Spunky’s brief stay with us made ride. It must be true I thought, because we get to be me realise that I could conquer the fear that I have our true selves around them. There was no need for battled for years; more importantly, it has made me masks and no need to please. They love us uncondi- look forward to a more enjoyable and better lasting tionally and are not judgmental. Having said that, I relationship with a pet in the future. And that to me realised it also meant a whole lot of responsibility is such a wonderful feeling. and commitment. He was a “baby” and a really demanding one at that: he constantly needed to be fussed over and expected me to be at his side 24/7.

Slice of Life|priya sreeram

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