Mistress - Book Review

The prologue of the book begins with "The face. Yes, let's begin with the face that determines the heart's passage. It is with the face we decode thoughts into a language without sounds. Does that perplex you? How can there be a language without sounds, you ask. Don't dent it. I see the question in your eyes."

I put the book away after the first page. Not because the prose was difficult or the story hard to follow. But because it required effort from me. As I approached the book once more, with greater commitment, I understood why. The central character is Koman, an elderly Kathakali dancer, an artist wedded to his art. He is Uncle to Radha, his niece who lives at the adjacent resort, Near-the-Nila, with her husband Shyam. The novel unfolds with the arrival of Chris Stewart, a foreigner ostensibly interested in capturing the story of Koman's life, to understand the man and the veshakaran (actor).

Split into three parts, Anita Nair tells a spellbinding tale of the exciting life of Sethu, Koman's father, who returns to India after running away from home as a teenager to Colombo. He makes a life with the kind Doctor Samuel who rescues him and Sethu (as Seth) becomes a devoted assistant. Fate takes Sethu to Arabipatnam, a mirage-like place populated exclusively by Arab descendants where he meets Saadiya. Koman, the son born to them is left in the care of a caring Christian woman until Sethu takes him in and gives him a home along with his other two sons born of Devayani.

Why does Koman begin the story with that of his parents? This is explained through the medium of Kathakali that becomes Koman's life in his teens. Kathakali requires the performer to interpret, says Koman; and to do that, he has to imagine and interpret not just his life but the lives of all others who have been a part of his life.

So the reader gets to meet all the characters that shape Koman's life, his brothers Mani and Babu (Radha's father), Aashan (his Kathakali guru), Dr. Samuel, Lalitha, Angela and Maya. Just as the book is in three parts, the narrative is from three points of view, Uncle, Radha and Shyam. And each part of the book begins with an introduction to the nine emotions, Sringaram, Haasyam, Karunam, Raudram, Veeram, Bhayaanakam, Beebhalsam, Adbhutam and Shaantam.

Superficially the story is about the undeniable attraction between Radha and Chris as Uncle mutely witnesses the ecstasy and inevitable pain that follows. But what is the book really about? Is it about "Art being a demanding mistress" or the fleeting nature of love that devours mere mortals in a tidal wave but soon passes? Is it about an artist's devotion to art, like Aashan's, that leaves him with no reason to continue living when he retires? Is it about the social conscience that seeks to legitimize man-woman relationships? It is a difficult question to answer.

All I can say is that Mistress is an exquisite book. With her genius for showing us the truth in everything we see, Anita Nair has created a performance with words that is as breathtaking as a Kathakali dance. I don't know what I should praise and what to leave out. The exquisite descriptions of the facial acrobatics required to create emotions in Kathakali, the soul stirring feelings that new love creates, the passive ways in which relationships continue to wither, the exciting story-telling (specially the part about Arabipatnam and each of the performances with the mythological context) or the detailed etching of each character?

I made slow progress through the 400 or so pages of this book and only at the end I realized why. Uncle tells a friend, "Classical art requires an effort from the audience. You don't become a connoisseur overnight. You need to imbibe it. You need to educate yourself, and it takes time to reach a level where you can understand the artist's imitation." It took time for me to savor this epic, time to get into the rhythm of the storytelling and time to get into the skin of the character.

Through this book I learnt the difference between an artist and a performer. I questioned "What is now?" I touched the ephemeral nature of art and the divine pursuit of it.

For all you readers, I leave you with one warning. Mistress is a demanding journey.

Keep the Change - Book Review

The protagonist B. Damayanthi leaves behind a boring life with parents in Chennai and jumps into the cauldron of corporate life in Mumbai in this debut novel by Nirupama Subramanian. An only child of doting parents who are desperately trying to "settle" their only daughter into matrimony don't agree with the plans of apparently demure Damayanthi who harbors a wicked side, one that is revealed in her letters to her friend Victoria. Through this regular correspondence with Victoria we get a glimpse into the naughty workings of Damayanthi's mind as she pulls off a major coup by landing a job with First Global in Mumbai.

In what seems like a fairytale transition, the sheltered Damayanthi finds her feet in the world of corporate banking set amidst the landscape of the cosmopolitan urban jungle that is Mumbai. We meet characters such as the lovable Jimmy Daruwalla, her colleague and comrade-in-arms at First Global, CG - a management consultant hired for the special project that Damayanthi and Jimmy are relegated to and the too good to be true Rahul that Damayanthi falls for. Damayanthi's female accomplices are a sympathetic friend Sumi who periodically gives her gyan while obsessing about her soon to be fiance, while the "other woman" Sonya Sood, the hot roommate becomes a thorn who continually assaults Damayanthi's self-esteem with her suave and sophisticated ways.

The author skilfully portrays Mumbai through the eyes of a newcomer and deftly sketches the characters and plot with an easy touch of humor. There are laugh out lines in many places, particularly while describing the weird ways of doing business that seems to be the specialty of large corporations. The protagonist is a lovable character full of spunk and self-doubt, a mix of traditional values trying to find its place in a new world of fast lives and loose morals. There is not much in the way of a story, the plot is simple, moves forward steadily through the chapters and ends on a predictable note.

A simple, funny travel read.

Monsoon memories

I was in Mumbai last week. The sky reflected a profusion of dull moisture-laden clouds in the puddles that lined the streets outside Mumbai airport's terminal 2. The vigorous wind blew my hair across my face as I struggled to find my name on the sign board of the hotel that was offering me a complimentary airport pickup. The sky continued to be same monochrome grayness of freshly poured concrete, interspersed only by the frequent showers, drenching passersby who hurried to dry shelters. The view from my window was depressing, the under-construction metro flyer coming up within touching distance of this fancy hotel did not do much to improve the ambiance. I wondered if the foreign business travelers would continue to patronize this hotel once metro trains roared outside their windows.

But monsoons in Mumbai have always been a time of pleasure and pain. The rains signaled the end of summer holidays that stretched endlessly and the beginning of a new school year. The skies poured liquid relief on the residents hassled by a long, unrelentingly humid summer. New books, uniforms, plastic shoes and click raincoats. Catching up with friends, braving the lashing rain that made the spanking new book covers into soggy messes and ensured everyone had a bad hair day. I remember reaching college completely drenched and leaving the umbrella in the back of the classroom to dry. With 100% atmospheric humidity, neither the clothes nor umbrellas would dry and another deluge would be waiting to accompany us on the bus ride home. Home would be a warm and welcome place where you could strip off the dripping clothes and unload the unsuspecting creatures that had hitched a ride with you - earthworms, small frogs and gods other creatures that visited us annually.

My brothers and I would sit around enjoying hot food or steaming cups of tea, exchanging war stories on our day and how we scored a victory (or usually lost to) over the rain gods. As much as I remember the monsoons, it has been a constant witness to the millions who make this maximum city their own. Learning to live with and in spite of the incessant rains, is a rite of passage that has shaped all of us who consider this place home, even when we do not live there.

I am not sure if I can become a resident of Mumbai once more. In its crazy growth the city seems to have forgotten me. Or is it me who has been banished for leaving the comfortable folds of a big city, I who once knew the bus routes and train stations on the western and central railway lines? Even as I see new flyovers, connecting roads, buildings of glass and steel that were not around when I was a little girl, Mumbai still feels like home. And I still wonder at the feelings that come up when I witness something as awe-inspiring as the monsoon in Mumbai.

My experiments with meditation

After many years of curiosity regarding meditation, I finally accomplished one of my goals for the year 2010 (almost a year late) when I completed the 7-day introduction to Raja Yoga meditation course taught by the Brahmakumaris organization in April. I had been watching the show "Awakening with Brahmakumaris" show on Astha channel for several months and found their philosophy, as explained by the articulate Sister Shivani, appealing to me on many counts.

As a scientist (translates into "skeptic"), I have always been wary of the multiple Baba, Matas and Devis of our country, each with their crazed fan following. As someone told me once, the two lucrative "businesses" in India are education and ashrams. I have found it difficult to blindly follow the teachings of any single human being, however great they may be, because they are, like me, merely mortal. More disappointment comes from finding out that the venerated "gods" have feet of clay than from any flaw in their teaching.

The Brahmakumaris philosophy seemed simple and logical, to my analytical mind. Our destiny is created by our thoughts and with a minor change in our thinking, we could change our life! Raja Yoga meditation is the route to communing directly with the Supreme source to rejuvenate our human lives and bring meaningful transformation. In the 7-day course, the basics of the philosophy is explained for an hour a day with guidance on the technique of meditation. There was no major "enlightenment" during the week that I went to the center. But I knew that the road was one that I had to travel alone.

So I tried. Woke up at 4.30 a.m. and tried to quieten my thoughts at that hour of the morning. I was amazed at the ability of my mind to speed through multiple unrelated thoughts even as I was physically waking up my body. But the moments of quiet reflection were a good way to begin the day. Sometimes I went back to sleep, sometimes I felt alert and ready to get started with the day.

But I had the most amazing experience two weeks ago at the Brahmakumari Shanti Sarovar retreat center. Every evening from 6.30 -7.30 p.m. they meditate. The room is large, dimly lit and serene. As the sun set, the moisture-laden clouds crowded in and with the background of the natural premonsoon breeze, the sky changed colors. As the evening progressed, in that atmosphere of group meditation, I clearly heard a message "From now everything will be easy. You are not alone. I am with you."
I don't think these were verbalized but the message was clear, memorable and distinct. When the session ended, I felt lighter, happier, more alive. I felt safe. Secure. I felt loved.

It is two weeks since that eventful day and I returned the following weekend as well. I have felt other similar messages coming to me. While my meditation technique may not be perfect, my intention is sincere. All it seems to need is the peaceful atmosphere of the center and good vibrations from the other peaceful souls congregating to commune with god. With such catalysts, I am sure I can create a future for myself that is more peaceful and meaningful for me.

Marrying Anita - Book Review

As the title suggests, this is a memoir of the time period spent by author Anita Jain in India. In her early thirties, Anita takes up a job in New Delhi and returns to the land her father left, coincidentally at the same age to seek their fortune in America. But Anita. a Harvard-educated, well-traveled, independent woman, comes to India for a different reason - to find a husband.

Anita's journalist background is displayed both in her writing skills and her analysis of the India of the new millennium in the chapters that describe her on-off relationship with India in the years of growing up in USA. Her self-proclaimed " A quest for love in the New India", as the byline reads on the cover page of book that shows a pair of hands covered with mehendi leads Anita towards several young people. While she finds many kindred souls, particularly when it comes to consuming copious amounts of alcohol and cigarettes, even hashish, in the racy bars of Delhi, Gurgaon and Noida, they all seem to fall short of her requirements for a spouse.

Along the way we meet many characters including the couple who host her during her first days in the capital, Nandini, a small town girl gone wild in the freedom provided by the metropolis, Anita's parents and their relatives, her outspoken maid Chandra and some other unique characters like the members of a band and members of the gay fraternity. In terms of prospective grooms, she comes close to a couple of guys but for some reason things don't materialize to the much-awaited four words "Will you marry me?"

Anita candidly shares considerable details of the lives and motivations of her parents immigrant experience as well as her own life as a single woman who gets tired of her dating fiascos in New York city. There are way too many details of her interactions with men of many nationalities and the complicated rituals of the dating scene which only fosters greater emptiness in Anita. While we feel sorry for her unfortunate dalliances, Anita comes across as a bold woman not afraid to share her growing desperation at her loneliness.

The book reminded me of a work of fiction "Sharmila's Book" by Bharti Kirchner where a woman comes to Delhi to marry a suitable boy but ends up marrying someone else instead. I did not much like the novel for its superficial treatment and point of view which was written for a Western audience. At times, I thought of "Eat Pray Love" one of my favorite books in the memoir genre about a woman's year of soul-searching with the specific intent of not being with a guy. Though not of the same caliber as Eat Pray Love, this book certainly is an honest investigation and analysis of the reality of finding a mate in these days of internet matrimonial portals and global range of choices.

At the end, Anita is not looking for a bigger pool to choose from, but like everyone else, she is looking for one soul mate. And I wish her well as her quest continues.

Construction Alert

I am face to face with the worst fear of a new house(rather apartment) owner - no, its not rodents, termites or other crawling creatures, it is not even barking dogs in the adjacent apartment or youngsters having wild parties at all times of the day and night. It is the beginning of a new construction right outside my window!

I had savored the pleasure of sitting in my balcony with its clear, unhindered view of a few hundred yards, only a few times in these six months since my move. But those early mornings of looking outside, enjoying a cup of tea in solitude or those precious minutes before dusk while I read in the soft natural light before the falling darkness and raving mosquitoes drove me inside will soon come to an end.

Last week a huge orange truck with its drilling paraphernalia proudly mounted on its back spent the better part of a day penetrating the earth in search of water. After a few false starts, they found the elusive life-giving liquid. The next morning I awakened to the sounds of tens of trucks parked next to each other as a gigantic earth mover dug into the ground and loaded the trucks with mud. The same process continued each day and what began as a gash in the ground turned into a huge gaping hole. Everything in its path was removed - mature tree and beautiful rocks. Even the family of stray dogs that used the space to camp for the night fled to safer surroundings.

While the prospect of another residential building so close to mine is not pleasant, it is not just the impact on natural light and evening breeze (which I currently enjoy) that bothers me. It is the endless months of mind-boggling labor, dust, noise and other kind of pollution that I will have to withstand that is a concern. And without the kind shadow of the trees that graced the property not so long ago, I wonder who will take the onus of balancing the acts of mindless construction that is rampant everywhere in India. Can we not have rules and authorities with the power and ethical principles to uphold the rules? Can we not mandate a corresponding addition to the green cover for every square feet of land that is developed to create urban wastelands? Can rain-water harvesting not be made a prerequisite for obtaining building permits?

These and other questions will continue to haunt me as I observe the frenzied pace of work next door. Stay tuned for more.

Aparna's column - Puppy love

One celebrity with a heart - actor Nagarjuna’s wife, Amala Akkineni. Blue Cross was set up in an attempt to rescue and provide shelter for injured street animals. Now home to hundreds of stray dogs, cats, cows and other creatures; Blue Cross has its own ambulance to save hurt, dying animals. The wounded animals, kept in fenced enclosures, are treated by experienced doctors and are looked after carefully until recovery. After healing, some are kept as regulars, some are left where they came from, some are put up for adoption. Probably not the most hygienic conditions for these abandoned little things, yet there is nothing more they could want. It’s the best life they could ever live-without the threat of abuse and accident. At Blue Cross they have a volunteer system, where anyone can sign up to render their services as an animal-lover. I have wanted to go to Blue Cross for a long time now, but the time never seemed right. Finally, I decided, what better time to go than now? So yesterday, along with two friends, I helped remove ticks from puppies, cleaned them up and played with them. They were all patient as we poked and prodded them. We made friends with the animals, coming down to their level and talking to them. They responded with friendly eyes and grateful, loving gestures.

All the puppies wanted to be touched and cuddled. They had pretty, charming, bright little eyes that one just couldn’t help but be mesmerized by. They would try to jump out of their compound, reaching towards us. One particularly impish puppy squeezed through the gap between the gate and the wall and escaped out. It liked the freedom, strutting around in the yard. We would keep dropping it back inside, and it would keep squirming back out. At one point, its head got stuck there in the gap and it wasn’t able to pull it out either way. It was squealing in pain; helpless. My heart broke to hear its pain and not be able to do anything. We brought help and finally the puppy was pushed inside.

After my time spent there, I realize how it makes me happy to be amongst dogs, petting them, interacting with the animals. Everything else is forgotten at that time, it is only about helping the puppies, giving them company. The best part is that it doesn’t even cost any money, just your time. The animals aren’t asking for anything else except your attention. Perhaps I will go there every week for two hours of pure joy.