Right fit wrong shoe - Book Review

In one sentence, Mills and Boon meets Bollywood.

A breezy light-hearted love story set in small town India, Kanpur to be specific, features (rather, stars), pretty young girl-next door, Nandini and tall, loaded and handsome, son of neighbor, Aditya, in typical Bollywood setting. It is a desi version of the good old Mills And Boon stories that I used to read in my youth. It was refreshing to see the standard love story ingredients set in contemporary India with a jilted young man returning to wreak revenge for the wrongs done by ex-flame.

I read this book on my train journey to Bangalore last week, as I headed to attend my cousins wedding. I finished the book by the time the train stopped at Bangalore city station. Varsha Dixit has churned a "cute" book with the regular cast of characters common to any movie script; loving parents, perfect relationship with extended family, absolutely devoted friend, doting neighboring aunties, including one referred to as "Badi Maa" etc etc. For a change, Nandini appears to be a feminist who is not afraid to voice her opinions. The dialogs with Aditya are quite corny while the liberal Bollywood masala sprinkling which predominates the interactions with her friend are quite funny if you understand the context.

Nandini is a lovable, if superficial character and the cliched intimate moments with Aditya are hilarious. The book is a reader's version of the Bollywood movies that it seeks to imitate. Worth one read, no stress on your grey cells.

Looking for success

Everywhere you turn, it seems like everyone is looking for the same thing - success. Although the definition of the word may be unique to each individual, the general consensus seems to be that pursuit of success is a worthy goal.

On Sunday I attended a one-day seminar on "Secrets of Success" by Dr. Girish Patel, a well-known psychologist who integrates several scientific concepts into a spiritual quest from his position as the head of the medical wing of the well-known organization of Brahmakumaris. The large auditorium on the Shanti Sarovar campus in Gachibowli, Hyderabad was more than half-full on a hot March weekend. To his credit, Dr. Patel reached every member of the audience, kept them engrossed in his talk with simple stories, made us stand up and say our affirmations loudly and with lots of physical energy to infuse enthusiasm into our aspirations.

A surprise visitor during the proceedings was none other than megastar Chiranjeevi, in a slimmer avatar, who kept a low profile. When asked to speak, he gave examples from his own life where simple strategies like visualization played a vital role in achieving his dream of becoming a celebrity. It was heartwarming to hear his story in a few words, totally within the context of the topic. I must admit I was impressed by his sincerity.

Many of the approaches to achieving success that were shared have been described before, in self-help books and how-to guides. The difference here was the emphasis on spirituality. We were led through a few meditation sessions which calmed and energized the audience.

Did we learn any new secrets that day? Yes. Will each member of the audience succeed? Who knows? The proof really is in honestly applying what we learned towards our individual goals while holding on firmly to the belief that God will enable us to achieve that which is good for us and in harmony with the Universe.

Aparna's column - The Inevitable Monster

I have asked my teenage daughter, Aparna, to write a weekly column for my blog. She has agreed (after a lot of convincing). Her introduction, 13 year old, DPS kid, born in the USA, Hyderabadi today. Her writing has won a few contests and some articles have appeared in the Times of India Student Edition. Here is the first one, on moving to ninth grade after spending a great year being a "eighthie".
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There’s that time of the year, every year, when it’s time to move on from the old to the new. Time to adjust to new classes, new teachers, new friends. And every year, I feel bitter about it. I leave my old class with a mixture of emotions-sadness about leaving what had become such an important part of my life, along with happy memories of good times. But I wish I didn’t have to go through this change every year. The pain and memories it brings back. I suppose you could call me resistant to change. But change is inevitable. And every year, I hope that the transition will be easier, smoother, but it just seems to get worse.

With each new year, each new friend, the attachment gets stronger. The harder it is to leave my comfort zone and welcome the fresh experiences that I will soon encounter. I can only hope that the next year will be better. The nostalgia is nothing new. It’s gotten old now. There is a sense of excitement, anticipation, of the coming year, but in my case, mostly reminisces of the past year. You cannot possibly expect me to forget the amazing year that has gone by. Time just flies. You can’t even tell.

During the academic year, I usually hate my teachers and class, but toward the end, I begin to look at them differently; I begin to like them, love them and I cannot imagine moving away from them. Some of my close friends are leaving school this year, and it is unbelievable how much I will miss them. I cannot even entertain the thought of doing so myself. I have been in this school for eight years now and I have grown to love it so much, I can’t bear to stay away from school. I love school. I don’t know how I am going to take the pain of leaving school after tenth grade.
But I guess I am going to have to find a way to get used to it. Like Mary Engelbreit said, “If you don't like something, change it; if you can't change it, change the way you think about it.”

Holiday at home

About 6 weeks ago, I thought I would spend this week (second week of March) in Singapore. Aparna had a break from school, the weather would be bearable, the tourist rush would not have begun. It was just a matter of getting all the arrangements made - visa, tickets, hotels etc. But I just could not gather enough energy to plan this holiday. Perhaps it was the cumulative effect of multiple business trips in the first few weeks of the year. I was exhausted and traveling itself seemed like too much effort. So I decided that I needed a break, but wanted to just stay home.

So this is what we did this last week - read books, watched movies, went for a laid back lunch at Novotel, took afternoon naps, played badminton, made gulab jamuns, gorged on chaat and ice cream, went for evening walks. I spent some time each morning sipping a refreshing cup of tea enjoying the morning breeze on my balcony. I did have a list of things to do but was not to crazy to strike everything off the list.

Most importantly, I spent time with Aparna. It was a good holiday.

Well Done Abba - Movie Review

Armaan Ali the lovable, simpleton played by Boman Irani in this movie is someone I see everyday. His endearing Hyderabadi Hindi/Urdu, his mannerisms, pious and sincere nature are similar to the many drivers, helpers, shopkeepers that I come across in Hyderabad.

So the hilarious story of the reason why Armaan disappears for 3 months from his job as a driver in Mumbai is extremely real and believable. Of course, being a Shyam Benegal film, it captures the reality of heartbreak that is part of the daily lives of people in small towns in minute detail. Armaan gets into a scheme that allots him money for digging a well on his property. Burdened with a good-for-nothing twin brother and his wife, a spunky daughter Muskan (played by Minisha Lamba) and barren lands, he earnestly follows the directions of the corrupt officials right from the sarpanch's husband, the district officer, engineer and even the photographer to get his due. He is left with nothing to show since all the money disbursed to him goes to grease the palms of the bureaucracy.

Then comes the turning point at which Muskan comes to the father's rescue in securing the well that rightfully belongs to them by filing a complaint of a "missing well" with the police. The movie then takes an interesting turn as all the individuals involved in the scam have to explain the missing well. Muskan's love story with Arif is a parallel track which is handled with finesse. The movie is great fun to watch with fantastic understated performances by all the actors. The scenes reflect small town contemporary India and the problems faced by simple folks. The movie totally belongs to Boman Irani as he steals every scene with his mannerisms, his language and most importantly, his humanity.

I highly recommend this movie for all movie watchers, whether you live in Hyderabad or not.

A Place Called Here - Book Review

Cecilia Ahern is considered a bestselling author for her earlier novel, PS. I Love You. I haven't read that book but watched the movie version with Hilary Swank as the central character. While the movie was a mushy romantic comedy,I think Cecilia Ahern is a good writer with a knack for telling a story.

Sandy Shortt, a six-foot one, Irish woman from a small town who becomes obsessed with finding things, probably as a consequence of the mysterious disappearance of her classmate and neighbor Jenny-May Butler at the age of 10. Sandy seems to be a complicated person who runs an agency that helps find missing people, after a stint as a cop. She distances herself from her loving parents and is unable to sustain any meaningful relationship with the opposite sex, thanks to her maniacal obsession with finding out where people or even mere objects like socks or toothpaste disappear to.

Then one day, she herself disappears as she embarks on a search for Donal Ruttle, the younger brother of Jack Ruttle, a man unable to live with himself even though a year has passed since his brother went missing. Sandy and Jack don't really meet each other but Sandy's disappearance drives Jack into an intense search that is hard to explain to his family. Bits and pieces of Sandy's life are revealed as she assesses her current "lost" situation with her penchant for finding lost items.

Ahern leads us into a magical place called "Here" which is inhabited by things and people that seemingly drop out of life in inexplicable circumstances. Whether it is lost airline luggage or a missing box of doughnuts, your friendly neighbor or his child, these are the ones whose faces peer at you from newspapers and posters labeled as missing, who live Here. As Sandy spends time among some of the people she has vainly tried to find, she reconciles her irrational obsession with disappearing objects and the significance of loss in the lives of the people who are lost and those that are left behind.

The book is full of interesting characters, both in the real world and Here, many of whom remind you of those you know or parts of yourself that you see reflected in the facets of their characters. But what struck me most were the words at the end of the book where Ahern says, "We all get lost once in a while, sometimes by choice, sometimes due to forces beyond our control. When we learn what our soul needs to learn, the path presents itself."

Metamorphosis

An insignificant paragraph in the newspaper mentioned that "the city had registered a rise in daytime temperature," a high temperature of 38 degrees Celsius had been recorded yesterday. Compared to the normal expected temperature of 34, this sharp rise heralded the beginning of a long summer. It is the same each year, the cool first few weeks of the New year give way to warm rays of the sun right after Sankranti. Nature then turns on the thermostat on the occasion of Mahashivratri, which was celebrated last week. Now comes the final whiff of moderate heat before the sun god, ably aided by the wind, takes a deep breath on the day of Holi and showers us with a great puff of hot air along with the delicate colors of spring.

I don't need a weather report or a thermometer to tell me when summer arrives. My internal sensing mechanism kicks in around this time each year. Severe pain in the neck and shoulders, migraines and sinus pains are the signs that help me get into my metamorphosis mode. I am not a caterpillar that spins out of a chrysalis to become a butterfly but more like a lame bumble bee who turns into a bat each summer. From a diurnal creature I turn into a nocturnal one. I strictly stay indoors during the hours of 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. and venture out tentatively only when twilight sets in. In case I absolutely need to step out during the day, I cover my head with a cap or my faithful dupatta, wrap those brand new Fastrack sunglasses around my eyes and armed with a cold bottle of water, I get into my air-conditioned car to get to my destination.

I give up my favorite morning cup of tea and take to unlimited servings of lime juice, coconut water and buttermilk instead. I eat less, obsess about hydration and SPF. I pray for the monsoons to arrive. And if all else fails, I leave the city for cooler locations. Last year I was fortunate to run off to the US. Where can I go this summer?

Perhaps the weatherman has sent me a veiled message with the weather report - time to make travel arrangements!!