City Streets

Am back to grumbling about one of my favorite cities. A poem I read by an old Indian poet, Santan Rodrigues, stayed impressed on my mind with everything it said several decades back in the early 70s. This urban poem still holds good today and even more so. Infact, had Mumbai been what it was in the 70s, I am sure it would have been the best city in India!

Just so I get a chance to read this poem anytime, here it is, on my blog, with all due credit to Santan Rodrigues.

City Streets

i’v e lived too long in your arms

to stand the stench

of gutters parading our promenades;

blaring horns –the music you play,

have now deafened my ears.

greasy seas you float in, have changed

their song, its waves the color

of their foam; and I stand

on a traffic isle death scared

of creeping cars. Why do your

unkept walls hang slogans.

your streets opening like mirrored

doors into streets, soon lose their way?

i am tired of those tall shadows

of skyscrapers, trodding my path

and the only greenery I see on your barren roads is dust.

why must my feet walk, where

people too busy to talk have

pawned their tongues? And the rude

nudging of the crowds remain

the only warm things I felt.

shucks I’m thro’ with you,

you rotten album of overcrowded

slums; and I am sick of

your tall-talk and

your canvassing smile to be enticed

to stay on

                like hell!

the city has lost its hold.

The Devotion of Suspect X by Keigo Higashino

Crime Master Alfred Hitchcock once said - “I’m full of fears and I do my best to avoid difficulties and any kind of complications. I like everything around me to be clear as crystal and completely calm.”

The Devotion of Suspect X by Keigo Higashino resembles more of a clever Alfred Hitchcock plot rather than a gory Stieg Larsson escapade as says the cover page of this book.

The Plot

The plot is simple. Yasuko leads a simple life as a waitress in a little diner supporting her young daughter Misato as a single mother. One usual day of work, her alcoholic ex-husband Togashi makes an appearance toppling her world. As he harasses Yasuko and Misato with his demands for money, an aggrieved Misato attacks. In the ensuing scuffle, Togashi falls dead.  Next door, an infatuated genius mathematician Ishigami listens and understands. He calmly steps in to protect his lady love and support her to get away. He weaves a brilliant story and creates circumstances that baffle the detectives and clues that lead to nowhere.

Even though the reader knows the murderer and how it was done, it makes for a thrilling read as the police investigator Kusangi tries to unravel the web that Ishigami has woven.  Ishigami ensures that the prime suspect mother-daugher duo have irrefutable alibis, and has a chain of clues that lead to absolutely nowhere and far away from Yasuko and Misato. Even as he stakes all to win Yasuko’s heart, little does he know that there is already someone else in her life. To add to Ishigami’s anxiety, comes along an old friend, Yukawa, a brilliant physics professor who has studied in the past with Ishigami. As the usually reclusive Ishigami meets with his old friend, he realizes that Yukawa is an aide to the police investigating the case and to add to the irony of the situation; Yukawa seeks Ishigami’s help in investigating Yasuko!

The emotional turmoil that the characters go through is well-placed in this otherwise fast-paced plot. Thankfully it is not really sappy or too sentimental and one can almost picture the geeky Ishigami in love and seeking to protect his damsel in distress quietly and unobtrusively while hoping she accepts him.

Elements of a best seller are a good story that keeps the readers on tenterhooks, strong characters with well delineated emotions and crisp editing. The Devotion of Suspect X had all these factors in its favor and the very unexpected twist at the end ensured that the reader will not forget the story for a long while. However perhaps it is a little unbelievable that any person would do so much for his love, especially when it is not even reciprocated or even known.  But that apart, I think most of the story was very believable, and everything stacked up well with no loose ends.

The Verdict –For a story well told, with all elements of a commercial potboiler- drama, pretty woman, damned villain, mystery, and last but the best of all, an original twist in the tale I will give 4/5 stars.

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

It's all in a Name!

Who is Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta?  Hint – She is one of the most celebrated rock stars today.  Well, for those who don’t know her yet, this lady chose to call herself differently and her name is yet another feather in her cap for being different.

Going on with my previous obsession on names (see previous blog here), I have developed a keen eye out for everything that is named and whether or not it makes sense. Names abound in a consumerist society that is now very socially active virtually. Gone are the days when one plainly asked for a product.  Each person, each product and everything that is marketed is now a brand.  Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta is a brand. She is a legend with more than 20 million followers and more fans than that.  She is better known as Lady Gaga. 

A few general observations on names that catch my fancy (or those that didn’t) - .

People

Can we then choose to call ourselves what we want to be known as? Can there be a world where our last names and our first names are changeable to whatever we choose them to be without the hassle and the extra work that goes into it?

All doting parents want the names of their babies to be different.  Gone are the days when the usual Rahuls, Nehas, Amits and Poojas ruled the roost. Now each name is increasingly complicated, myriad and has to have international connotations. Interpretations in different languages are sought and pronounce-ability in foreign languages tested.  As a result, again all the ‘uncommon’ names have become common! In my circle of people, there suddenly is a glut of Aryans, Aryas, Aaravs who are probably the next generations Amits!

Whatever the real identities of the people maybe, social media has changed the game. If Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta can call herself Lady Gaga, non-rockstars on twitter and blogger have changed their identities.  Many new age twitter celebrities are known solely by their chosen names. From an Outlook cover story on the new age celebrities, the ones who are featured are a Gabbar Singh, Bollywood Gandu, Great Bong, Jay Hind, Satan Bhagat, Rofl Indian and Dr Yum Yum Singh.  Who cares what their real names are.  One of my favorite bloggers is known as Cyber Nag or Zephyr Nag (visit her blog here) as she chooses to call herself. Her real name remains a mystery to most. I can’t call her anything else but Zephyr Aunty and don’t even want to know what her real name is!  More famous by their chosen names, these individuals have created their own brands and have huge fan followings.I almost think it's time to rechristen myself now!

Housing Projects

Enroute Pune on the expressway, as one nears Pune, a host of hoardings spring up on the latest best residential projects. All of them make you dream of living that foreign dream. Almost. With names like Wisteriaaa (do they think they are building a Desperate housewives set really), Pallazio, Rivieraa, Manhattan,  Liviano, Ariana, Kyra, Silver Leaf and Aria,  Pune is the new Rome or Greece or New York!  As images of Italian restaurants are conjured up, it is dismaying to enter the chaos of the typical Indian city and see that all these buildings that are supposed to be surrounded by lush green fields and resort like locales in the advertisements are in reality in concrete jungles surrounded by more buildings and once the paint starts pealing, the Ariana will be more of OhDearana!

Phones and tablets

With increasing number of mobile phone models, automobile models and new products being launched, I say it isn’t easy to boil down on that one name that has already not being taken which would resonate well with the target audience. Consider the ‘iPad’ for one. Apple has it simple now.  Anything with the ‘i’ attached to it is mostly a hallowed Apple product and sells.  The next in the series are simple 1, 2 or 3 and so on.  So we have had the ipad1, ipad2, ipad3, iphone1..iphone4 now iphone 4S.

Other companies though have had to be more imaginative with a massive range of phones in all possible sizes, configurations and features. Samsung has its ‘Galaxy’ of phones with really weird and impossible to remember suffixes of I9070, Y Duos, Pro Duos, I9100 etc. Nokia has its Lumias suffixed with the again immensely forgettable 610, 710, 810 etc. All other companies have a range of names such as Explorer, Sensation, Rhyme (HTC), Bold, Curve, Torch (Blackberry).

Automobiles

I have always enjoyed knowing the names of new launches. Bikes are exciting in their nomenclature. Discover, Pulsar, Eliminator, Avenger, Sprint from the Bajaj stable certainly try and bring in that adrenaline rush as it tries to outdo Hero Honda. Hero Honda has an elegant Splendor, Karizma, Passion, CBZ Xtreme, Achiever and Glamor in its repertoire that talks of looks, style and the passion to ride.

Cars aren’t left behind in the naming race either. Maruti scored with its apt ‘Swift’ with is sleek and sporty looks.  Chevrolet has a Spark and a Beat that are certainly uplifting names to own.  I don’t know how Hyundai got away with i10 and i20 even though they are not Apple products! Honda with its City has garnered plenty of urban users with its urban name.  Nissan Sunny certainly has a sunny feeling to it while Skoda with its Superb can make its owner proud.

Each brand has certainly tried to bring about speed, style or have a bright name to jazz up your mood!

Item songs!

The next hottest sought after names are in Bollywood ruled by Chikni Chamelis, Badnaam Munnis, Jawaan Shielas, Discoing Anarkalis, Silk Smithas, Dhannos and Chammos!. I wonder what is next- Rapchik Reshma, Nylon Nalini and did someone just say Cotton Kamini?!

What are some of the exciting names you have come across or thought of?

Book Review: The Lost Story by Amit Goyal and Sudhanshu Gupta

When I received this book from a budding Indian author, another MBA at that, I was skeptical and had almost labeled it a la Chetan Bhagatesque book packaged differently. However, I was in for a pleasant surprise when I found this collection of short stories bound in a longer story quite well written, entertaining and with a great recall value.

The Plot

The story begins as a budding author Sandy gets an offer from his favorite and revered booker-winning author Saleem to write a short-story book with him. One starts the story and the other finishes it in his own distinctive style. Likewise, two separate people have written the book.  As the stories unfold, Sandy tries to understand Saleem’s past and the secret behind a locked room in his house.

The Stories

The stories were an eclectic mix of a sinister ghost story, a gay super hero to an office romance. I particularly liked the story of the ill omened brothers named as Rahu and Ketu, the ordinary guy who did not fight the terrorist but had to live up to being a hero and the touching story of the Old Man who everyone ignored in the cafe. The book could probably have done without the romantic stories which did sound, forgive the term, more MBAesque and less Booker-writeresque as had been delineated. The end of the book was rather esoteric and I had to reread it to truly understand what the author wanted to convey. But then again, the end fitted well into the scheme of things.

Writing Style

Considering the fact that two different authors had written each of the stories, I was not really able to distinguish two separate styles, which would have been a major concern in maintaining the continuity in the book. The language used was descriptive, and visually stimulating. Fortunately, the parlance did not venture into the territory of mixing in Hindi as is the current trend or and the use of invectives was controlled much to my relief.

The Verdict

I will go with 4 stars for this book for originality and interesting stories. 

Ground Reality

Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar has scored a hundred tons. This prodigy is much hailed and not without reason. He attributes much of his success to his coach of his initial years Ramakant Achrekar who groomed him on the famous Shivaji Park.  But I am not going to write more on this brilliant man. Enough experts have already done that. 

Shivaji park, the now hallowed park held sacred by Sachin-worshippers is a lovely chunk of open space in Dadar West where kids can still play cricket and aspire to be another Sachin Tendulkar. It is a space where kids learn gymnastics, get coached in cricket, football, athletics and a haven for the health conscious to jog and an open place for adults, senior citizens and kids to hang out.

Shivaji Park Ground - Picture from Wikipedia

In a city of more than 20 million people, I wonder why it is that there is just one ground that is famous for producing prodigies?  A Sachin-worshipper might argue a player like Sachin comes only once in a century, but a person with even half of Sachin’s talent (50 centuries in a lifetime) is awesomely creditable too and the way Indian cricket team is playing, it wouldn’t mind that either! I find the answer almost too easily. It is because there are so few grounds where sports can actually be played and conditions are conducive to learning.

I stay in one of the central suburbs in Mumbai – Chembur.   There is a ground/ Maidan known as Gandhi Maidan close to my house where kids still manage to learn basketball, volleyball and skating at the YMCA. There are several teams playing cricket on one side of the ground and football on the other side. A fairly good walking track also exists on the periphery of the ground.  Being a less of a gym-person, when I shifted to this area, I was thrilled initially to find such a lovely ground nearby. Alas!, my happiness was short lived when the ground reality hit me. It is ironic that the very ground that I visited for health conscious reasons was a huge health hazard for all the adults and kids who came there for lack of options for miles around.

The ground ensures that my olfactory and visual senses are subjected to the maximum torture there can be.  All four corners are used as urinals for loiterers and disgusting men. Along all sides of the ground sit groups of men of various ages- teenagers and old men who believe that this play ground is a smoking lounge for cigarettes (and other things) and for ogling at women who walk on the track.  It is so sad to see young boys in their teens wasting their lives puffing away when they should be either studying or playing actively on the ground.  Even sadder is that these kids with jelled hair and fancy hairdos think smoking is very cool. On another side of this ground sit ominous men drink away merrily and gamble with playing cards. A dead rat or pigeon lies on the third side while garbage burns on the fourth side.   On the outside of the fenced ground at its periphery, stand a few men outside their BMWs puffing away and sipping alcohol in soft drink bottles.  

If my olfactory nerves and lungs can withstand all this, then my eyes are treated to visual pollution of litter all over the ground. Littered newspapers, plates, glasses, alcohol bottles, empty cigarette packets, plastic bags are callously dumped everywhere even though there are dustbins at a few designated spots.  Random graffiti paints the unpainted walls on one side.

On requesting the smoking sociopaths to move somewhere else and smoke has resulted in fights and abuses hurled at the women who pleaded with them.  As a woman, I would not even feel safe if it were not for the fact that I walk with a pack between such filth and malignant men. The YMCA and the ground authorities refused to help when concerned parents raised these issues.  The lone watchman and caretaker of the ground fled since he could not alone counter the many iniquitous activities the ground was used for. A lone rag picker is the only one who does any good when he picks up what is of use to him.

When builders are not gobbling up our open spaces and politicians are not using it for their political rallies, it is the citizens of this very country who pretend to be educated who are making these playgrounds unusable.  If smoking in public areas is an offence why indeed is it so difficult to have any action taken against these miscreants?  Why do most people still believe everywhere outside the realms of their house is a dustbin? Quite honestly, citizens are scared to be the ones to report these nefarious activities and I don’t blame them. For who would want to take the brunt of complaining and the backlash?  Policemen have far too many things on their mind, and are indifferent.  Elections are over now, and there is little hope that the local politicians are likely to do anything to better things anymore.

I wish I could change so many things around here on this ground and the other open spaces in our city which I trust are no different unless they are in the poshest of places in town with a fair amount of security.  First and foremost, I heartily wish I could smack the smoking rascals right out of the vicinity of the ground out of sight of the impressionable kids so everyone can breathe normally. Those urinating and littering should be reprimanded and penalized heavily.  I wish I could walk where no men ogled and where I felt secure.

A few lights more on the ground would go miles in helping women feel more secure. A well maintained kids area will encourage more parents to use it. A patrolling policeman in the evenings would ward off miscreants. Perhaps privatization/private management of our grounds is the key. Even if they charge a few rupees to go on the ground, a huge chunk of the anti-social elements would disappear. After all probably they can use the entry fees for just one more cigarette.  For those who really want to play could take an annual pass which is not prohibitively expensive.

I hope parents take up notice and check if their teenage kids were smoking or doping and advise them against it. I wish some officials took up notice and stopped the blatant misuse of the few remaining grounds we have, and people stopped littering and learnt to respect the space that belongs to all.  Change from authorities and people is the need of the hour! Only then, will we have more Sachin Tendulkars in this country full of aspiring and passionate cricketers.

I would love to hear suggestions from you – the Gandhian way, to change things and hope to do continue and try and change things for the better. 

Stop being a Road Terrorist

I am not a video game buff. But there is one game that I play every day. This game has innumerable challenges, obstacles, and a clock that keeps ticking before I reach my destination. The rules are puzzling because only I seem to follow them. Yes.  I drive a car in the Mad Mumbai traffic. All that this game says is players should be cognizant of the 3Ps (Potholes, Pedestrians, Pandus) and 3Bs (Bikers, Buses and Blaring horns). A word of caution - Understanding the 3Ps and Bs will make you adept at driving, but do not venture out without a health and life insurance since the Road Terrorists are out to get you!

1.       Potholes – ‘Road me gadda ya gadde me road, tu tension mat le, jaane de chod’ goes a guy on the radio as I rollercoaster my way up a hill where there is a pothole even on a speed breaker while going uphill. Why do they even take the trouble of building speedbreakers in India I wonder?   I tried complaining through various mediums, but everyone says the road doesn’t fall under their purview.

Politicians/Corporators with your tall manifestos – Either give us better healthcare facilities to cure breaking backs or repair those roads completely instead of ignoring or dumping on the road a thin superficial layer that only makes the road even more uneven than ever before!

2.       Pedestrians – The responsibility of ensuring road safety apparently lies solely with the motorists in India. In a country where motorists do not respect pedestrians, why should pedestrians respect motorists? If motorists do not stop at red signals for them to let them cross, of course, they will exact their revenge by starting to walk when it’s your green signal. Well actually, when pedestrians start crossing, it is a sign that the signal is green!  Pedestrians also usually walk in the middle of the road with earphones or mobiles in their ears and do not give a damn as your brakes squeal behind them after honking. Pedestrians are also so used to encroached footpaths that when presented with an un-encroached footpath, they shy away from it fearing it is cursed to walk on it and spill out on the road. 

Guys in your two and four wheelers - it is a good idea to let these poor guys cross the road when the signal is red. YOU BLIND MEN, please wait behind a certain real or imaginary white line that gives space and lets people cross safely at your red signal! And footpaths if not encroached are not for bikers to ride. On their part, Pedestrians will then cooperate by not jaywalking in the middle of the roads.

Encroached footpaths and people crossing over dividers

3.       Pandus or Police – They are the important guys of the road who everyone fears usually found near red signals. If there is a pandu as they are fondly called in Mumbai, then people wait at signals, and break fewer rules. These guys are usually a harried lot, standing in the scorching sun and pollution for long hours, haggling with errant drivers for petty bribes, turning a blind eye to BEST buses breaking rules or bikers who they know they cannot catch. I don’t really know whether to appreciate the hard work for their low pay or to blame them for what is happening on the streets of Mumbai.

I wish, they invoked enough fear in motorists to believe no bribe would work to enable them to get away and that errant drivers would be caught, reprimanded and penalized very heavily. It is also time we stopped taking these guys for granted and believing that we can get away by paying petty bribes.

4.       Bikers – A large chunk of this species believe they are as tiny as ants and can wiggle their way through any amount of traffic, climb on any footpath, have the right of way on both sides of the road, break major and minor signals at breakneck speed or block roads at signals in their egoistic fight to be at the very front of the line.

I ask, can’t these annoying errant bikers exhibit a mite of patience to stop clambering over pedestrians on footpaths and taking every plausible road on the wrong side if there is no pandu to catch them? 

Chaos!

5.       Blaring horns - ‘Honking is my birthright and I will honk it. Pippepiipii.’ This seems to be the motto of every motorist in India. As though honking makes traffic move. As though, signals turn green by honking, as though pedestrians pay any attention to it.  Everyone is in a tearing hurry to reach their destination. I don’t get how honking speeds things up!

Although extensive campaigns by traffic police can be seen at major junctions, why is the plea to stay calm so ignored? I cannot help but curse all the incessant honkers and hope they all go deaf one day. Can the government really not clamp down on the car and bike companies who provide such horns in the vehicle and make it prohibitively expensive to buy them from independent shops?  For drivers in AC cars, just because you cannot hear the honk loudly enough, does not mean that, it gives you a right to blow others’ ears off! I wish there were a reverse horn invented for cars and fixed mandatorily that would sound twice as loud inside when honked on the outside!

6.       Buses - Stay away from these unfriendly elements as far as possible. BEST Drivers are not only rash but they are also bullies. They will crush you unmindfully in their quest to get ahead of you or because they don’t like you. Buses will drive only in the middle of the road so you cannot overtake them. Keep a safe distance from them, as they screech to a stop right in the middle of the road to pick up passengers from the bus stop at the extreme left. If the bus stop is really far left, then beware of them swerving frequently to and from the rightmost lane and the leftmost lanes. The bus drivers derecognize Yellow and Red as colors and see only Green. These guys have no qualms, can rarely be apprehended and little that you can argue. They also honk incessantly. Stay Away from them.

What can be changed, is some training to these drivers and higher penalties/increased suspensions to stop them from flouting rules the way they do. I wonder if we citizens can call for a motion against them for irrational driving.

Well, there are a whole lot of other factors one needs to be mindful of, but this blog would be too long then. Big vehicles, Zigzagging autorickshaws, the stray kids who run amuck on the streets, dogs who refuse to move from the middle of the road till you are almost over them, mobile phone gabbers, preening women drivers and roadside squatters and peddlers. Red Lights did you ask? Well, those we see, but have never been mindful of them except when the Pandu is around. no? .  Oprah Winfrey on her visit to India, asked if Red Lights were for fun on Indian roads. Since we all value foreigners’ opinions so much, perhaps it is time to pay heed and see some wisdom in her words instead of only raving about her sari. When we finally do, that’s when I will include the Rs – Red Signals, Right Lanes and Road Sense in here.

Amber is the new Green!

The latest world-wide statistics released by International Road Federation (IRF) reveal that 1,19,860 people are killed in road accidents every year in India as reported by the Economic Times. DNA reports that the number of accidents in Mumbai is 23,440 in 2010 with 560 deaths. This is far higher than any terror attack we have had. I welcome any bill that brings on enhanced fines, stringent punishments and lesser tolerance of repeat offenders.  Till such a bill is passed, we need to bring about discipline. All that needs to be done is to be patient, stop trying to outrace others and respect the milling crowds and fellow motorists around. Stop being a road terrorist. Go on, follow rules, be the change and lead by example for safer roads.

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Book Review - The Forest of Stories by Ashok K. Banker

‘The mother of all tales’, ‘epic’, ‘grand’, ‘compendious’, ‘massive in scope, unrivaled in ambition and unequalled in length’. ‘While it is called the Fifth Veda, it is at once equivalent to all the Vedas’. ‘What is not found within it is to be found nowhere else. And all that is elsewhere is here.’ Mr Ashok K. Banker has indeed used precise words in his book ‘The Forest of Stories’ in which he starts to retell the Mahabharata.  

I have in the past read several wonderful interpretations of the Mahabharata by authors such as C Rajagopalachari, Kamala Subramaniam and others but enjoyed Mr Ashok’s Bankers interpretation more than I did theirs because of the riveting and interactive narrative style, new stories I was not formerly cognizant of and minute detailing.

Content

At the ashram of Kulapati Saunaka, near the historic battleground of Kurukshetra, arrived Sauti, the renowned raconteur. He had braved fierce jungles to reach the ashram to pass along the news of the demise of the revered author of Mahabharata Sage Vyasa and spread the story of the epic Mahabharata. In Mr. Banker’s rendition, we readers get to be a part of Kulapati Saunaka’s ashram where Sauti is narrating his tale to the acolytes of the ashram.  It is this narration that has made for a gripping story almost as though it has been narrated by my grandma when I was a child. 

In this first part of a series, tales of valor, invincibility, power, revenge, violence, love and lust of the devas, asuras, sages, kings and other beings are graphically described in a seamless flow. Amongst the stories, I quite enjoyed the vivid delineation of Parshurama and his bloodied axe with which he slaughtered Kshatriyas or the warring clan. Despite the gruesome violence the tale entailed, the character seemed surprisingly calm as befitted him. The stories of Bhrigu, the revenge of Ruru and Janamanajaya against the Nagas or Snakes were new to me as was the story of Garuda. The book ends with the famous romance between Shakuntala and Dushyant. It is quite apparent that the book has been well researched and it is intriguing to trace the history of the dynasties of the various sages, kings and other beings in this book.

What differentiated this series was the fact that Mr Banker has not jumped headlong into the tale of the Kauravas and Pandavas but has given ample context in this book. The author has done great justice to the tale by splitting the epic into multiple books. In fact, this book does not even reach the part where Satyavati meets Santanu that is the starting point for most other condensed Mahabharata interpretations. Despite having read so many versions, I loved the fact that many of the stories in the ‘ The Forest of Stories’ were new to me.

Narration

The author has used Sauti’s narration superbly in adding that jazz of drama, violence in battles, the horror of killing, the eloquence in speech, power of mantras, and vivid imagery. This style has rendered an interactive discussion between the acolytes and Sauti answering several questions that we readers may have and stressing on what the Mahabharata highlights. I appreciated the use of good language that fortunately did not mix in Hindi or other languages that are in vogue in English books.

Verdict

This book is indeed a treat to all mythology fans and I give it 5/5 stars. Now that this book has me hooked, I certainly look forward to continuing the tale in forthcoming books in the series – ‘The Seeds of War’ and ‘The Children of Midnight’

About the author

Ashok is an internationally acclaimed author of mixed-race and mixed-cultural parentage based in Mumbai, India. His Epic India Library is a lifetime writing plan that aims to retell ALL the major myths, legends and itihasa of the Indian sub-continent in an interlinked cycle of over 70 volumes. This includes the Ramayana Series, Krishna Coriolis, the Mahabharata Series, the contemporary thriller Blood Red Sari and other works. His books have sold over 1.2 million copies in 12 languages and 56 countries worldwide. With the launch of his own AKB eBOOKS imprint he became India's first bestselling ebook author as well as publisher and bookseller.

Thanks BlogAdda for selecting me for this review. It certainly opened a whole new world that I had missed out on!

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

What's in a Name?

"What’s in a name?", an oft restated sentiment has acquired a whole new meaning when I recently changed my last name after some years of marriage.  The feeling is still sinking in. I am suddenly shocked by the revelation that I have gone from a Miss to Ms to a Mrs and it has suddenly made me feel several years older!

With my family hailing from the western part of Maharashtra- Vidarbha, my maiden name is KHOLKUTE pronounced as KHOL KOO TAY. Well, one would think I would be happy to shed that name! but no, it had to become SONPATKI, probably an equally difficult last name!

But now that it has been done and I see it in black and white in front of me, I ruminate, really, did I want to do this? A girl who has been carrying an identity all her life suddenly is forced to take on a new name, a new identity. Why does her existence have to be forever linked to a male in the family? Be it a father’s name as her middle name or the husband’s name.  And more complex is the fact, that world over, the last name is something that is mostly acquired from the father’s side although there are a few cultures which take it from the mother’s side or find a middle way such as taking both their names or even blending the names.

I wonder what it is that makes a woman change her name in societies where this is prevalent. It is the norm and the tradition which most of us blindly follow.  Pressure to follow what is accepted is another common reason.  There could be insecurity on the new family’s side which does not feel comfortable if the wife or the daughter-in-law still struts with her maiden name and is supposedly not integrated with the new family because she does not carry their name. Perhaps it is because the woman herself does not feel integrated enough till she changes her name to match the name of the majority she lives with! Some girls even change it to prove their love to their new husbands though I don’t see why her love could be any less or more even if she does not have the same name. Perhaps it is a little of all the above reasons that make a fairly well-reasoned person like (I would like to think) me, take the big leap.

In the days of the yore, when most women honestly didn’t have as much as an identity that they have today of their own, change wasn’t quite as difficult technically. Having a good education and multiple jobs, one is straddled with not just certificates and degrees with a different name, but also endless number of bank accounts, credit cards, identity cards such as a pan card, driving license, passport and a motley of investments and assets that require to be changed with a brand new signature. Besides the things that mandatorily require change, there is a whole virtual life out there which requires a new identity! Networks drive the world, social or otherwise and even though you painstakingly inform half of the million people you know, chances are they will most likely forget you or won’t find you ever again if you aren’t in touch.   A long arduous road it certainly is, but women do it. I am doing it and I am at a loss to understand why! It is with a foolish sentiment that I cling on to my old passport, pan card, bank cards, credit cards, identity cards, driving license and all the myriad things that are associated with a name. It is almost as though a different person had experienced so much in life!

Well, I do take consolation in the fact that my new name is atleast unlike many of the crazy Maharashtrian last names (to completely go off the topic). One would think a Maharashtrian colony were a forest with vegetable families coexisting amicably with animals in one neighborhood.  For example we had Bhende (Okra), Bhople (Pumpkin), Gawhare (French Beans), and Mule (radish) all in one colony alongside animal families such as Wagh (Lion), Landge (Wolf) and Aswale (Bears) and Undre (Mice).  Of course, an ecosystem would have its terrible elements such as Bhoot (Ghost), Aghore (the Terrible), the animal killers such as Waghmaare (Lion killer) and Aaglave (Fire setters).  Maharashtrians also come in all hues – Kale, Gore, Saavale are common place.  Amongst the other funny ones I have heard are Udyasangin (I will tell you tomorrow), Gapchup (Keep quiet), Gaitonde (one with a cowface), Paidhare (Hold legs) and Potdukhe (One with a stomach ache).

But that aside, I reckon, I will now learn to accept and live with my chosen new identity. After all, no one forced me to take it up. Perhaps change is good with a new phase in life. Perhaps it will be easier to not to have explanations of why I want to retain my maiden name.  Maybe, the new name will auger well for me! And it certainly will not break any ties with my parents of course or change who I am. It is time to ponder over the other famous nugget of wisdom – That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. I shouldn’t be moping so, should I?

Sea'ing what's real

Standing on the shore of the Arabian Sea, at a beach in Mumbai I looked out across the sea feeling that sense of awe at the magnificence of nature in its humongous form. As I looked across the waters away from the civilization, away from the hordes of people and the urban buzz of vendors, vehicles and bright billboards, I felt nothing would ever be more real than the Sea which I grew up looking at.

Growing up in the coastal and picturesque city of Muscat, Sultanate of Oman, I had the good fortune of facing the sea for a good part of my childhood. More fortunate was the fact that the ‘Al-Ghubra’ beach near our home for a long time was a calm undiscovered virgin beach in the heart of the city and was almost a private beach for us with not more than 5-6 people at any given point on it! 

The Al-Ghubra beach may not be the most beautiful beach in the world, but for me this beach was my gym, my playground, my picnic spot, my hang out, my hobby and evenings pretty much revolved around it.  The Al-Ghubra beach was a lovely expanse of unpolluted clear waters, fine sand, coarse sand, squelchy sand, white sand, and dark sand that formed lovely patterns shaped by the wind and the water dotted by millions of sea shells, pebbles  and horse hoofs all along the beach.  

I spent many an amusing evening doing plenty of digging which fortunately brought up only sand, water or the hand that dug at the other end of the tunnel instead of the odd slipper or polythene bags from Juhu beach at Mumbai.  Building sand castles with all that dug up sand was also another pleasurable activity although destroying these castles before we left was more fun!

A little bit of nature also found it way home especially when I entered the water to play with the waves. Each time I entered the water, mom had to deal with a messed up hallway and a bathroom with sand pouring out of my shoes, socks and folded up trousers.  More of the nature found its way to my home in the form of shells, ‘kaudis’, corals and pretty little pebbles of all hues which now stand  in a vase in my showcase.  My Dad argues that all I did on the beach was walk with my head down and scavenge for these sea souvenirs all along a walk. Hence he made me run on the sandy beach which usually was done with a great deal of reluctance and grumbling amidst huffing and puffing.

No visit was complete without food of course. A packet of chips or sandwiches with Kissan Tomato Ketchup were usual favorites.  For visits which were more planned, mom used to make yummy ‘Batata Wadas’ eaten with Kissan ketchup or gobi parathas which we spread out on newspapers and ate. Visitors to the Ghubra beach with huge families also brought in beach chairs, barbecue skewers, tables and plenty of food making us want to go home that was 2 minutes away and get all that!

My favorite time back then and today on the beach was during twilight when the skies and the waters assumed a golden hue and looking out into the sea became more ethereal than ever each time.  A distant ship in the horizon conjured up speculations of what it might contain and stories around it.  A sense of calm prevailed and the sea breeze became cooler after a hot day. Listening to the musical rhythm of waves and watch them gush forth and recede in their ever changing colors, I was completely refreshed everyday with this natural Real beauty that took my breath away every time I visited the beach.

This memory is an entry to the exciting Kissan contest on Indiblogger. 

Local Tourists at Maximum Mumbai

Busy days, late hours and horrid traffic left me and hubby SS exhausted on the Friday evening. Thus came many pleasurable and contented ways of spending our weekend. That of ‘relaxing at home’, ‘chilling out with a dvd’ and getting chores done.  Then a simple campaign by a leading newspaper happened asking us to switch off our teevees for a day. It sounds like a mighty marketing gimmick, but it honestly worked. We decided to finally get out of our contented monotonous chilling at home and explore what was closest to us – the city of Mumbai. What first came to our head was the symbol most popularly associated with Mumbai City - The Gateway of India and and decided to start with areas around it.

The Taj and the Gateway from the Sea

Colaba Causeway

It was walk down memory lane for me as I passed the legendary Regal theatre and the Alibaba Restaurant that was adjacent to an office where I once worked right after my engineering on the way to the Gateway. It was wonderful to walk on Colaba Causeway and hear the vendors speak expertly in English and French and still see them target only the white tourist population and ignore the brown skinned locals!  The array of gaudy necklaces, trinkets, scarves, marble and wooden showpieces that have not changed for a long time now continued to be there and continued to fascinate me. Only most of them were pretty pricey targeting a dollar audience dollars and not for local Indians!

The Taj Hotel

Right across the Gateway of India, The Taj has stood like a shining beacon of lovely architecture in Mumbai city and a balm to eyes tired of filth, peeling paint, slums and box like buildings with matchbox apartments. From the Gateway it looked grand as always and a testimony to what Mumbai has withstood, repaired though not healed. The luxury hotel has attracted distinguished visitors in Mumbai and it was always a pleasure to enter its luxurious, and rich interiors even if it was for just a cup of late night coffee or for a conference in one of its grand ballrooms.

Wah Taj!

The Gateway of India

Coming back to the Gateway of India, my earliest memories as a kid were walking right under the Gateway and buying puzzles, tricks and such paraphernalia from a thriving market of encroachments even back then.  Now, amidst security concerns, there is a large police barricade and siege with elaborate screening, constant security vigil and a heightened awareness although it was fortunately pervaded by much laughter and photographers asking couples to make various funny poses to hold the Taj and the Gateway.

The Gateway of India

The Gateway of India was built to commemorate the visit of King George V and Queen Mary to Bombay back in 1911, a 100 years back from the approaching March 11, 2011. The last of British troops to leave India also passed through the Gateway in 1948. In earlier times, the Gateway was the first glimpse of Bombay that visitors arriving by Bombay would get.  The architecture of the Gateway is Indo-Gothic representing the cosmopolitan culture of the city of Mumbai even today.

Elephanta Caves and the Ferry ride

Our next destination was the famous Elephanta caves, which are on an island across Bombay, reachable by a ferry ride in the sea from the Gateway. It is funny how most locals including us have never seen these caves despite residing in Mumbai for so many years. It never helped that that those who had visited only disparaged the place saying there were just a few broken idols and little else to see. Well, but look at it this way, it really is fun to be a tourist in your own city and see things from a new perspective, understand history and see where the roots of your city indeed lie. The Gateway is one part of understanding the city, the Taj another and the Elephanta caves set in an era long bygone adding yet another dimension to this huge city.

Cruising in the Arabian Sea on an hour long ferry ride, fanned by a cool zephyr, watching the Mumbai skyline recede and trying to make out major landmarks in the city all added to our really touristy experience.

We reached the Elephanta Island by boat and clambered on a toy train which really ran the distance of a 5 minute walk but was again, a part of the experience! We then had piping hot tea from the ubiquitous tea stalls and then proceeded to clamber the many steps up the hill that led to the caves. As usual, the entrance all along the steps was lined by a huge market of souvenirs that sold everything that can be found at any souvenir market in India I suppose. We saw rows and rows of endless ‘handicrafts’ that we had bought foolishly in Rajasthan at high prices  as something unique and refused to buy more ‘unique items’.

Toy Train to Elephanta Caves

We finally reached the caves and found a guide (unauthorized guy since there were no official guides!) to tell us the history of the place instead of us looking blankly at the statues. We learned that the Elephanta Island as it was now known is known originally and referred to by locals as the Gharapuri Island which means literally island of caves. The island consists of Hindu and Buddhist caves with the Hindu caves depicting tales from the life of Shiva.

The Portuguese called the island Elephanta on seeing its huge gigantic statue of an Elephant at the entrance. The Statue is now placed in the garden outside the Jijamata Udyan at Byculla in Mumbai. This cave was renovated in the 1970s after years of neglect, and was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1987 to preserve the artwork and is currently maintained by the Archaeological Survey of India. If the Portuguese used the sculptures for target practice blowing them up for most part, Indian ruffians scribbled and carved their names and declared undying love to their beloveds and desecrated the statues. ASI has done a good job however in cleaning up a majority of these names, though on close scrutiny, one can still make out English letters in the haze.

The guide told us several interesting stories about the sculptures most of which could be confirmed by the guidebook or Wikipedia. The ones I liked are Ravan lifting Shiva and Parvati on Mount Kailash, Wedding of Shiva, Shiva slaying a demon named Andhaka, and the most famous one, the Trimurti. The Trimurti is a 20 ft rock sculpture that depicts a three headed Shiva manifesting creation, preservation and destruction and thus the three important deities Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva respectively.

The Trimurti Idol

It took us around 2 hours to go around the entire place, take photos and listen to stories besides indulging in chai, and look at knick-knacks in the souvenir market. The ferry service starts early in the morning and continues till around 5:00 pm in the evening in winters. I suppose this time gets extended in summers.

The ride back thrilled us again as sea gulls swept up and down, and in circles with their cries over the lapping waters. We disembarked at the Gateway and headed back into the chaos of the city. With a few hours left to kill on that perfect weekend, we ate pav bhaji at one of the tiny restaurants at Colaba Causeway, ate a really yummy looking pan and watched the Bollywood movie ‘Agneepath’ at the historic Regal theater.

I would definitely recommend this trip to anyone who wants to become a tourist at Mumbai. Go Out Mumbaikars and take that ferry ride!

A Glorious Sunset

More pictures on my Facebook site – http://www.facebook.com/richlandtalk

Fatwa Fever

The Fatwa fever is on in India! Maybe that word should be a permanent Oxford dictionary addition if it already isn’t.  

Kapil Sibal tried to put one on Social networking. It triggered more twittering and dis’liking’ and sniggers from the social media community. Anna came along and is still trying to put a fatwa on corruption and alcohol. Madhya Pradesh has reined in beef-eaters while even the glorious Sun has not been spared by fatwaing the Surya Namaskar. The biggest joke of all is the ban on showing the pink elephants and statues at Uttar Pradesh. Amidst the new, how can old one’s be forgotten – Muslim clerics are already up in arms against Salman Rushdie stepping into India for a popular literature fest. A few more fatwas that should be issued soon by various Hindu, Muslim, Brahmins, SC/STs, govt. etc.-

• If Maya’s elephants can’t wave their trunks, people are here forth barred from waving for anything, riding bicycles and using sickles to harvest their crops.
• A fatwa should be issued on fat and unfit Abhishek Bacchhan from dancing (and being in movies) and a fatwa on Sonam Kapoor and Imran Khan on acting.
• Citizens and tourists should not be allowed to eat anything but boiled vegetables so as to not hurt the religious sentiments of other communities including Jains and imprisonment for those who dare eat beef/chicken/pork or anything else not in the list of allowed eatables.
• There should be a fatwa on traffic policemen who aren’t of any use anyway on Mumbai roads.
• A fatwa should be put on pedestrians who try walking on footpaths annoying squatting hawkers and bikers who drive on them if there are no hawkers.  
• A covert ban on Tendulkar making his century would ensure TRPs and advertisers getting their due
• FDI fatwa continues and the movie association should follow suit and issue a fatwa on Hollywood to protect the interest of the wonderful Bollywood movies such as Rascals, Don2 and Ra One getting neglected despite their ‘wonderful’ stories.
• A fatwa on all of all of yoga (not just the surya namaskar), pilates, kickboxing, for religious reasons, no-westernization reasons etc will be great so I have a convenient excuse to stop exercising.
• A fatwa on Brahmins and higher castes to reproduce given that future increasing reservations will ensure they die of malnutrition anyway or they will go abroad
• Thanks to Sibal, a fatwa on social networking in office will let me be more productive and go home early!
• I wonder if a fatwa on the Rupee will rein in exchange rates at their current levels and if a fatwa can be issued on rising petrol prices
• Last but not the least, after we exhaust all the fatwas, could we please have a fatwa against passing more fatwas and end this fatwaing?

Courtesy - Google Images

The democracy which India is supposed to be is now a fatwacrazy. It is insane that if a girl is molested, she is the one blamed for it since she was wearing a sleeveless shirt and not the lecherous man who did it. A motorist almost runs over a pedestrian and shouts at him for being in the way when he is breaking a signal. Unless power hungry politicians, moralistic clerics and wrong populist measures are reined in, the one thing – freedom - we prided ourselves on and thought we are better at than China will also cease to exist and leave little hope in a country desperate to shine.

The Dirty City

‘Clean Mumbai! Green Mumbai! Beautiful Mumbai’ – These few phrases are a rude bundle of crap from BMC and all the politicians who have made the Shanghaification of Mumbai a colossal joke.

Apart from the many popular polluting elements of air, water, sound that afflict Mumbai, one which is less talked about but one of the most rampant forms is ‘Visual Pollution’. 

Huge ugly looking vinyl hoardings with ugly politicians with creepy smiles grouped with sycophants dot every road and square.  Those very smiling goons bash up sincere lads who go to remove the illegal cost-free advertising hoardings and threaten BMC workers who order them removed.  Bah! to think, multinationals shell out money to pay for the almost as ugly OOH (out of home) advertising.

 

The airport road was once upon a time supposed to be ‘beautified’ to avoid foreign visitors from getting headaches from all the ugliness that hits them suddenly.  After seeing a sea of blue, which is not the Arabian sea, visitors and Mumbaiites come out in the open in grubby taxis, to see people peeing, squatting, shitting on roads, picking lice on their heads etc. If that were not enough to make them want to turn back, they get to see the unavoidable unseemly sight of people spitting usually that revolting red muck every five seconds on pockmarked roads.

The ugliness continues on the unpainted roads with construction rubble lying everywhere –on the sides, below flyovers, on the unpainted dividers, with dried up and dead ‘beautifying trees’. No lane markings are present on any roads, and the dividers broken wherever convenient for motorists to make illegal passes and turns. New flyovers had come up were supposed to be gleaming and shiny new structures.  Then I saw these weird metal contrapments, probably cellphone towers all along the flyovers.  God! More ugliness! Talking of unpainted, rows and rows of dilapidated buildings with peeling dirty paint look on with shanties at their bases all along every large road in Mumbai and in smaller bylanes.

‘Clean up!’ dirty green Garbage trucks of BMC freely ride the roads at all times of the day and one sees a ‘Mera Bharat Mahaan’ painted on some unsightly broken granite obstruction in the middle of the road. The whole city is a dustbin for one and all where people litter as they please, where they stand, leaving their legacy behind for someone to clean up after them. Shopkeepers dust their shops driving the garbage to the middle of the road onto unsuspecting pedestrians.  A pile of garbage that should not be where it is, collects for days together.  Numerous flea ridden dogs and scraggly cats are seen loitering near these dumps or the middle of roads. 

One would escape the ugliness that abounds this city once one was home; I would have liked to believe, but there, as I enter, dirty shoes of all the family haphazardly kept by my building people greet me on the staircase. Across the window, in the opposite building, I am forced to look at my neighbours’ chaddis, banians and bras hanging out of their living room windows to dry.

Call me intolerant or just a foreign returned NRI even if it was for a really short while, or call me snooty, a snob, or whatever, but could we PLEASE stop exhibiting all our clothes to our neighbours, and stop littering alteast!?

And to think, people call this morbid place a beautiful city. Mere wishful thinking probably where we refer to the ‘indomitable’spirit and resilience of Mumbaiites as beauty. I wish we stopped talking about beauty like that in the Miss Worlds where they unnecessarily discuss ‘inner beauty’ on mugged up answers. I am done with the inner beauty, I want to see some physical beauty in this city! It is nice to sit on to Marine drive and stare out into the sea out of Mumbai.  Staring out of Mumbai makes it beautiful you see.  The city is a damn dump.  Can anyone at all do anything to reduce disgusting habits, really clean up and to make this city less of an eyesore than it can be helped? I love this city despite its short-comings and heaven knows why I want to return always to it and I always did, but indeed, it is being abused way beyond its tolerance limits. One day, it will exact its terrible revenge from the denizens of Mumbai unless something were done about it.

Book Review - The Best of Quest by Laeeq Futehally, Achal Prabhala and Arshia Sattar

Daring, illuminating, and inspiring. These best describe a journal that took birth not so way back in the pre-emergency days in 1954.  It was called Quest – ‘a quarterly of inquiry, criticism and ideas’. With a prolific writer, poet and social commentator Nissim Ezekiel at its helm, this magazine commented on the political, social, philosophical, cultural and ideological environment of a newly liberated India.  The magazine featured a motley of brilliant writers and poets of the time that included great names such as the zesty Dilip Chitre, sociologists such as Ashis Nandy and Sudhir Kakar, and the feisty Khushwant Singh and the haunting poet Agha Shahid Ali to name a very few of those geniuses.

In its short life of 2 decades, this insightful magazine was forced to down its shutters, but fortunately for our generation today, The Best of Quest, an anthology of the very best essays, critiques, poems and stories from an era bygone provides us with a superb insight into the thinking of the intelligentsia of those times.

The Best of Quest edited by Laeeq Futehally, Achal Prabhala and Arshia Sattar showcases writers from different backgrounds, and conversations on a myriad themes and topics. Divided into seven parts interspersed with old ads and including a worthy introduction and endnotes, this book features in three parts, Essays and Opinion, Poetry and Fiction.  Several translated works are thankfully included in this volume that might just have been lost.  At the end of the book, I am already wishing, there was a second volume in this series!

In the Essays section, what struck me was that so many of the articles commented on the questions that are still raging more than 50 years down the road. This section, includes writings on the still debatable caste system, the place of women in an evolving society in articles such as Women’s Lib in India, The Married Woman and Our Sex Morality, Fair and Free; cultural discussions on the Konark temple; the Islamic connection in a still relevant article Am I a Muslim. On a lighter note, the spirited two articles, On Caged Chaffinches and Polyglot Parrots and a reply to it in Indian Writing in English on the usage of English as a medium of expression were uplifting.  Movies have always been ingrained in the fabric of India and these were seen in caustic critique of Satyajit Ray juxtaposed with the hit movie Bobby by the then mysterious ‘D’ aka Dilip Chite and in the Charm of Rajesh Khanna. I wish I could quote or just list down all the well researched articles that said so much in so few words and truly provided a glimpse into the world which barely seems to have changed since then.

Poetry included works by the editor and great poet himself, Nissim Ezekiel, Kamala Das, A.K. Ramanujan to name a very few.

Some lines that I think will stick on in my head are in

Stance by Nissim Ezekiel

Elusive for ever,

the middle road

is never

            strictly

in the middle.

From Three Cups of Tea by Arun Kolatkar –

i went to Burma

i was arrested and sent back

            to Manipur

no passport

                        the police commissioner asked

why did you go to burma?

                        Prickface i said

what’s there in India?

I also particularly enjoyed ‘City Streets’ by Santan Rodrigues which echoes what I think of Indian cities today with the scum and filth in them. 

In the fiction section, a fantastic array of haunting, satirical and charming stories has been selected with great care in this book. I loved the twist in The Departure, the simplicity in Aunt Matilda turns ninety and the poignant story The Accompanist.  Again, an enthralling anthology of fiction.

The endnotes and the story behind the magazine Quest were illuminating and I felt privileged to read so much more about Nissim Ezekiel, Dilip Chitre and the other scintillating men behind Quest. Kudos to the editors for the incredible collection of the essays, stories and poems in this terrific book.

My verdict is a thumping 4.5 on 5 for this book.

About the Editors -

Laeeq Futehally is a writer and garden designer. She worked as the Literary Editor of Quest for over twenty years.
Achal Prabhala is a writer and researcher in Bangalore
Arshia Sattar works with classical Indian literatures and teachers at various institutions across the country

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

Dark was the night and weird the atmosphere...

Dark was the night and weird the atmosphere­­­­­. It rained from time to time; gusts of wind shook the trees. Between thunderclaps and the moaning of jackals could be heard the eerie laughter of spirits. Flashes of lightning revealed fearsome faces.

For those wondering where they have come across these lines, Chandamama it is, in the new tales of Vikram and Vetal that they featured for several decades and still continue. I loved the colorful delineation in paragraph mentioned above and had almost mugged it up! I have a collection that dates back from 1976 till around 1996 and I particularly looked forward to reading these stories in every issue that I had hoarded through subscriptions and old ‘raddiwalas’ (waste/old paper buyers and sellers). 

Vikram and Vetal (Vampire) has for long enamored generations of Indians with stories of wit, mystery and stimulation of those grey cells. The courageous King Vikramaditya sought to dislodge a vampire from his hideout in an eerie jungle replete with ghosts, jackals, and several monsters and deliver him to a tantric to fulfill a promise. The Vetal turned out to be loquacious, and he made a deal with Vikramaditya – If the King could answer his questions after listening to a story he narrated during the walk, then the Vetal would fly back to his original hideout. If he could not or did not, then he would stick around.

A page from Chandamama

The stories were particularly interesting revolving around kings, queens, commoners, princesses and a host of issues – ethics, morals, love, courage, dishonesty etc.  The conundrum at the end of each story was particularly thought provoking and the King usually had his quick correct answer ready which he blabbered out which had the Vetal laughing all the way back to the tree!

The original tales which are 24 in number are as old as older than the 11^th century –incorporated in the Kathā-Sarit-Sāgara ("Ocean of the Streams of Story"), which is a work in Sanskrit compiled by Somadeva. Sir Richard Francis Burton adapted these stories in his translated English compilation of 11 tales in his largely fictitious work Vikram and the Vampire. I recently read this adaptation and found it to be highly intriguing and I almost thought I was reading the original stories. Next on my reading list would be the more original 22 Goblins by Arthur W Ryder.

The King did not continue his cycle of walking up and down with the Vetal for eternity like I once used to think seeing the Chandamama tales never ended! The last or the 24^th story had him befuddled with this one tale.  In a kingdom ravaged by war, a man married a princess and his son married her mother, the queen and they had kids. The question to King Vikramaditya was – ‘What is the relationship between the children?’ The discombobulated relationship flummoxed the King and he was unable to answer this question resulting the end of his ordeal and delivering the vampire to the evil tantric.  The evil tantric had hatched a plan to slay the King but was finally outsmarted by clever King Vikramaditya. With this the tales of Vikram and Vetal concluded originally, but like most hallowed classics the legacy lives on with more tales being concocted around the same lines in books and on television.


PS - I was delighted recently to see all the old Chandamamas archived on their website http://www.chandamama.com/archive/storyArchive.htm.  Loved those enthralling folktales and stories then, loved them now again.