Say Sush

A long standing wish came true some time back when I interviewed Sushmita Sen. She was as dazzling in person as I expected her to be and the thing about her is that when she turns on the charm it really hits you in the face, there is no way in hell  you can escape it! Surrounded by beauty queens half her age, Sush really managed to hold her own and that’s really quite something. For one, I didn’t write down any questions and was really tongue tied in her presence. Two, to her credit she never shied away from giving any answer however personal. My personal favorite was when I asked her if she felt that her Bollywood career never really took off, the lady replied, “ I only fight when there is a position and two times in my life when I had to fight for the top position I won, the Miss India final and the Miss Universe final.” Amen to that.

Watching “English Vinglish” was such a treat. I cannot remember the last time, when I wished that a movie was longer. Sridevi remains the undisputed actress she always was and I just hope that she chooses scripts which do her justice! On the same note, Aiyya had to be the worst movie of the year, I really don’t know why I would spend 150 bucks to watch such nonsense.

Hoping to meet Yuraj Singh in a few hours from now, the PR is notorious for being flippant, so let’s see if Yuraj actually turns up! Will be back with that...

 

PS: a later update, did meet Yuvraj Singh...didnt like him much, very standoffish...

The journey of a bibliophile

A recent story I did and loved....

 

A staircase leads to a comfortable room which is bursting with books and is embalmed in a quiet that is hard to find nowadays, BS Prakash’s library is a book lover’s paradise, intimate but not intimidating. Rows and rows of books spread across genres of every imaginable kind greet the discerning visitor, from history, literature, poetry and classics neatly stacked according to author and genre. The elegance of the library is compounded by the old world charm of the house replete with wooden rocking chairs and spacious seating areas.

 Prakash’s tryst with reading started at the age of 3, when his mother gifted him a copy of the book, “The tale of two bad mice”. As he shows us the book which was presented to him in 1950 he says, “I have always been reading. I still have the fairy tale books gifted by my parents. It’s been a deep and abiding interest all through my life. Since I wasn’t an athletic type and we had no radio, reading was the natural alternative during childhood. My father and grandfather were avid readers and in fact, a quarter of my collection (about 2000 books) was inherited from them.” Today his collection has grown to roughly around 8000 books, and he admits that cataloguing them is a huge challenge.

The book collector remembers his childhood days where he bought books at many stores in Abids (a street in Hyderabad) with great fondness. He recollects the many times he bought classics for a steal, “I used to buy a lot of books at AA Hussain in Abids apart from that there was a second hand book store called Ilyas down the same road which had a great collection. The second hand market at Abids was a great haunt to buy different kinds of books, I once got 16 volumes of Charles Dickens for 32 rupees!”

 Also a part of  a club of theater and literature enthusiasts, Prakash says that reading opens up different worlds to the reader which is an experience in itself. Showing us the first edition of Charles Dickens’s “Pickwick Papers” which was published in 1837, a book  which has withstood the vagaries of time for almost three centuries, he also narrates many anecdotes which he says only enriched his love of reading, “I once bought a book of C Rajagopalachari’s writings for the Swatantra Party, in which two pages were stuck. Later I found that he had gifted the book to his biographer, Monica Felton. In my father’s books I have come across his thoughts on the ideas expressed by the author. All of it makes the process of reading very intriguing.”

 Lending his books to very few people as Prakash believes that most books which are lent never come back; he also strikes a chord with many people when he says that he prefers reading novels in paperbacks to reading on an Ipad or a kindle. Currently planning to write a book on the social history of a middle class South Indian Brahmin family he brings the interview to a close by saying, “Books for me brings out solitude from loneliness.”

 

A song that raised a thousand bogeys

Last week while driving to work, I saw a sign which said 360 degrees, inexplicably that reminded me of my Yahoo 360 blog which was my space to ramble in around 2004-2007…while I was thinking of it, one of my favorites blogs there wound its way into my mind…a post there with the following lyrics from a Johnny Cash song is one of my favorites pieces I have ever written and brought in a sweeping stroke of nostalgia, both for the song and the times gone by. I rushed to office and spent the whole day listening to Johnny Cash. Though I often think about the times in which I was in college, it never really succeeds in wearing me down as much as it did that day…

The lyrics of the song go something like this

Save my love through loneliness,
Save my love for sorrow,
I'm given you my onliness,
Come give your tomorrow

I am no fan of English music but for some reason Johnny Cash’s songs get to me like no one ever has. Read through the above lines and there is so much you see, such angst, such abundance of love and so much suffering that it calls out to your own pain and forms a bond. That day brought in so many memories of so many particular things. Memory is sometimes so fickle, you feel a pang for the past but the past as a whole, you never think about the individual entities which made the past a whole. This day and that song brought back such individual memories that I was lost the whole day: the way I used to read Harry Potter every day for years, the way I used to snuggle on the bed with those no longer here and was so content, the way I was so hopeful about things, the many long walks to muse about life, the way life seemed such a huge possibility when I used to talk with friend, the obtuse passing of times at bus stops, the thrill if I actually went to a place I liked…much of that hope is exhausted now, much of that warmth missing and most of the optimism misplaced.

The journey from your early to late twenties changes so much of you that it is hard to believe that you shed so much of yourself and still are you. As I pause, while I am writing this…it is difficult to believe that so much has been slowly lost over the years…an accumulated angst has occupied the place of hope and has made it home…I know not what is worse, that it refuses to fade or that I refuse to let go.

Books I recently read and loved

Reading is a getaway for which I’m immensely thankful, allowing me to know more about life, people and experiences in such a vicarious and voyeuristic manner. Though my reading has come down, I have read some immensely wonderful books, in the past which have enriched and touched me in so many ways.

A suitable girl: Vikram Seth

This book is so huge that you cannot lug it around, I placed it on three pillows and read it just like old ladies read out from Ramayana at a prayer meet. It also amazed me (again after An Unequal Music) about the unrivaled genius of Vikram Seth. I fell in love at the contents page itself, instead of names of chapters, it has couplets with a tantalizing hint as to what you can expect in that chapter. The sheer number of characters and the exquisite detailing which went into it numbs you. Full of characters you can relate to, an old world charm which no longer exists, it was a marathon of a book and the fact that it has a sequel coming out is just the icing on the cake! My family heaved a sigh when I finished it in five wonderful days and was brought back to the world.

The help: Kathryn Stockett

Gifted by Na, on my birthday this wasn’t my usual book. Narrating the journey of black maids in 1960’s who raise white kids, it opened my eyes to the sort of exploitation we thought was limited to our own country. Full of humor, pain and courage it describes an inhuman human in an incredibly humane way. Two days after I finished the book, the adaptation came on TV which was good but was nowhere close to the book!

Em and the big hoom- Jerry Pinto

This touching book, which by the way is simply gorgeous to look at, with its black bound cover and colored pages was a gift from Pt and was so engrossing. A story about a mentally ill mother and her two kids who try to decipher the reason behind her illness, it shocks you with its crudity and makes you wonder about the concept of life itself. A semi-biographical account of the author, the sarcasm, lyrical humor, the love and the grief really affect you. I, for one didn’t want the book to end even though the despair in its narration was heart wrenching. A wonderful, depressing book!

On a rainy afternoon...

It’s been raining nonstop for the past 24 hours and feels absolutely wonderful. On days like this I wish for nothing but a good novel, a bed and my old quilt. To do nothing but laze around while the gentle pitter pat gives you company is the stuff my heart yearns for. Add a bit of Ilayaraja’s music in the background and some piping hot chai, and I am officially in heaven. I don’t have so much on me right now, I am at work but am thankful that I can see the rain and enjoy its gentle smells, feel the company of the drops and soak in the constant comfort it brings. The many memories it coaxes out of me and the many people it reminds me, rain is unparalleled for evoking nostalgia.

What is it about rains which makes me long for monsoons every year- is it the fact that life comes to an absolute standstill when it holds forth, is it the feeling of tranquility it invokes in everything it touches or is it just another thing to hold onto, one not threatened by change or confusion? Rains have a wonderful way of making me feel at peace with myself, just to watch, just to be, just to be a part of something so serene. Every drop bringing in the same force and fervor, touching everything with the same passion while ensuring that everyone is a part of it, that everyone is a stake holder.

Everything about the rains hold promise and beauty throughout its stay, the overcast gloomy clouds which herald it or the green green trees which it leaves in its wake. The cool breeze which sways with the rain drops or the many pretences it washes away. It brings such simple joys and so many myriad thoughts.

Rain. A gregarious friend, a gentle lover, a great companion.

Birthdays

Birthdays, when I was younger were full of fun. A day I looked forward to for the simple pleasure of knowing that all my friends would call and those who really mattered would meet me. This year, I literally tried to run away, having booked tickets to Shirdi just so that I could get away from the tediousness of it all. I didn’t go in the last minute but frankly even though the day was okay, the run up to it was something I could have done without.

My closest friends have been going through pretty much the same thing this year. Sa, had a similar experience last year when she wanted to get away from it all. Na, who celebrates like no one I knew has been pretty subdued this time. Pt didn’t want any fuss and has been even quieter around that time of the year. As we grow older what is it that stops us from taking joy from things which were once such unequivocal avenues of pleasure?

Is it the fact that we are held hostage by birthdays to be really true measures of the extent of our failures? Or is the fact that it reminds us of the promise we showed but never really fulfilled? Or is it the simple lack of optimism that envelops you as you grow older and cynical? Maybe all the hype and hoopla around it? Or maybe the pressure to make it count? Whatever be the reason these birth-days are no longer fun- there are fewer people than there were and even fewer with whom we want us to be. A stark reminder of the many things that never worked out the way we wanted them to.

This year, I wanted to get away everything and everyone I knew….as everything familiar bred contempt. Whenever I am worried or depressed I know exactly what ails me, but for once everything around me bothered me. But thankfully the day went on decently, because I believed that it was an ordinary day not a special one. It did turn out to be decent and I’m so grateful for those few people who were around and wanted to stick around for me!

To birthdays, each one more gloomier than its predecessor.

Roots

How important is it that you are truly who you are? I’ve been meeting with so many people who do exactly what they are supposed to do, irrespective of what they really want. Socialites who pretend to be everything they aren’t, people (including myself) lying to fit into various things- from conversations to jobs and those who have gone so deep that they can’t even realize who they are.

I met a lovely lady the other day, Shailaja Tahiliani, Tarun Tahiliani’s wife and was completely bowled over by her. At the launch of his first store in Hyderabad, the place looked like a war zone. With models hurrying around, the store manager’s fussing around and people generally acting important. I was rushing against a deadline and when I saw Tarun speak to her, I walked up to her, told her that I needed to get some work done and asked her if she works with the designer… She smiled, told me that she was his wife and told the PR to help me out. Later I heard her speak to half a dozen journalists who were amazed that she came from Guntur and spoke better Telugu than most of us.(believe me when I say half people I meet pretend that they cant speak their mother tongue, Telugu, as it isn’t cool enough)

All through the day, I was thinking about what keeps us away from doing things that we really want to, like not speaking a language as we are afraid as to how others might judge us, pretending to be cool as we are insecure in our own skins and wanting to belong in places which were never meant for us. Puzzlingly, Shailaja might or might not have succumbed to the pressure (I mean in all probability she married a gay designer) but the way she spoke and carried herself showed that she was at ease and that was what she was supposed to be doing. For some reason, all I’ve been thinking about for the last few days is whether I’m being true to what I’m doing and hopefully the answer will be a little merciful…