Fascinating World of Books

2006-08-21T08:23:00.000-07:00

A good book speaks for itself. Anyway, DD can't post posthumously. She loved books, always. And a bunch of them are her only savings.

2006-08-10T03:43:00.000-07:00

The Legend of Khasak - O V Vijayan

This is a Malayam Novel, the one that revolutionalised Malayam literature in the early 70s. It is said that it took the visionary author 12 years to come out with the book. No wonder, it is a true legend !!!!

O V Vijayan is a legendery Novelist, Political Columnist, Cartoonist and Short Story writer. A stunningly brilliant author. He was one of those very rare Indaina authors who were considered to have a fare chance for the Nobel Prize!!!!!!!!

Thankfully I could get the Malayalam version, the origial one, to read _ Khasakinte Ithihasam. I remember having read somewhere that he is a Malayali parallel to Marquez. No doubt, he is. This is the story of Khasak, through the eyes of Ravi who comes to Khasak as a teacher in the one-teacher village school. Ravi lives at two levels of mental being. One is that of a guilty young man who had an afair with his own step mom while his aged father was on his death bed and who had committed a sin with a yogini in an ashram he was staying. The second level that of a philosopher trying to mix meta physics and upanishads.

Every other character in the book is brilliantly narratted by the author. Appukkili, Madhavan Nair, Maimoona, Maulavi .. everyone.

It is the extraordinary genius of the author that transforms a third rate Page-3 theme to the spiritual level of literature. Amazing, I must say.

I guess, I am getting addicted to existentialism ;))

2006-08-09T00:46:00.000-07:00

The Outsider - Albert Camus

A background understanding of the philosophy of Absurdism helps, at times. Atleast when you read this book.

Camus is a philosopher French Author, a contemporary of Jean-Paul Sartre, the famous Existentialist. Having never heard of Camus, what prompted me to read the book is its back cover page which says he is a Nobel Laureate.

Meursault, the protagonist, is like any other young man of an average existence. The book opens with descriptions of his Mother's funeral. The very first page suggests the character of Meursault.

He doesn't fit into the usual frame of a social being. The snobbish and phony people. He is deadly indifferent, even towards his own life and death. Meursault views everything as an outsider. His mother's death, the unintentional murder he committed and his own death penalty.

Even though he is happy with his girl friend, Marie, and he is willing to marry her 'cos she wants to, he plainly tells he doesn't love her 'cos he simply doesnn't feel any love. Though embarrassed by the embarrassment on other people's face, he is not able to adapt to the norms of the society. He is neither a revolutionary nor an extra ordinary genius. Just a simple young man who is deadly honest about his feelings or lack of them.

There are times he tries to act and say as per what was expected from him by the circumstances, but he get bored pretty soon. He flinches a bit while confronted with his death penalty. The most amusing of turn happens there. He starts viewing even that as an outsider.

It is not the plot that is interesting, but the protagonist's attittude and feelings (or no feelings) towards happenings that is the center theme.

These types of writings always interest me. The unconventional, the intriguing, the surrealistic and subtly philosophical.

Good read, ofcourse. This is his very first book and I guess, his later books are better. Yet to grab one.

2006-07-22T03:27:00.000-07:00

The Judgement - Franz Kafka

Just as usual I am dumbstruck as to what was that? Surrealism is at its best(or worst) in Kafka.

This is the story of a father and son, but the central character is the son's friend who is in St.Petersburg. The son writes a letter to his friend, who is presented as looser to us thru the son's thoughts, to break the news of his engagement to a girl from a "well-to-do" family. He goes to his widower father to inform him about sending the letter. It is then that the "Kafkaesque" situations take the lead. Then you are lost wondering what happened.

I am still finding it difficult to adjust to the Kafka way of leaving the reader to imagine the reasons behind the conclusion of the story. Yet I must admit, every sentence written by him, makes me addictive to his stories.

This story presents the ultimate contemt towards a son by his father, which leaves the son in a profound confusion. And that is what happened to me too.

2006-07-13T03:57:00.000-07:00

Nineteen Eighty-Four - George Orwell

Heard of this :- Big Brother is watching you. ? This is the central theme of 1984.

Orwell is famous for his anti-Stalin views. He was pro-Trotsky. To be frank, I have no clear idea of what makes Stalin different from Trotsky. What I understand is that Trotsky was amore of a puritan where as Stalin was more practical. Had Trotsky been in power, I feel he also would have ended into the same mode that Stalin adapted. May be less brutal.

Orwell has written this book in 1948. The book's original name was "The last Man in Europe", but later on was changed to 1984 according to the suggetion of his publisher. Well, I prefer the discarded title ;)

World has only three super powers, accrding to the story, which are Eurasia, Oceania and Eastasia. All these are in war with one another all the time. Winston is a native of Oceania. Rather he is an outer party member of Oceania.

The story is a mockery of the Totalitarian concept of Stalin. I am not sure if Stalin was a totalitarian in its true sense. But that had been a favorite theme for Orwell. Animal Farm is a better mockery of it.

1984 takes a little patience to read through. And ofcourse, a background understanding of Totalitarian theory and democratic-socialism. The most notable thing is that, even though
Orwell had been dilly-dallying all his life in choosing a perfect philosophy or theory, he had always been a socialist. He turned anti-imperialist in the begining of his career and was
a true socialist all his life. Though the doctrines he chose varied considerably over time.

Oceania is a country ruled by "The Party". Everything is determined by the party. They control past, present and future. They control your food, sleep, work and even sex. Winston, our protagonist happens to be the last living man. Rest are all transformed to "comrades".

Orwell's imagination is marvellous. Even if we assume that his severe hatred and contempt for Stalin gave him the central theme of the story, there is one thing that amuses me. Winston get to read an anti-party propaganda called "The Book". Orwell actually has written another book inside 1984 as "The Book". I have to admit that I was almost convinced that War Is Peace.
Here is the abstract of "The Book"
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But it was also clear that an all-round increase in wealth threatened the destruction—indeed, in some sense was the destruction—of a hierarchical society. In a world in which everyone worked short hours, had enough to eat, lived in a house with a bathroom and a refrigerator, and possessed a motor-car or even an aeroplane, the most obvious and perhaps the most important form of inequality would already have disappeared. If it once became general, wealth would confer no distinction. It was possible, no doubt, to imagine a society in which WEALTH, in the sense of personal possessions and luxuries, should be evenly distributed, while POWER remained in the hands of a small privileged caste. But in practice such a society could not long remain stable. For if leisure and security were enjoyed by all alike, the great mass of human beings who are normally stupefied by poverty would become literate and would learn to think for themselves; and when once they had done this, they would sooner or later realize that the privileged minority had no function, and they would sweep it away. In the long run, a hierarchical society was only possible on a basis of poverty and ignorance. To return to the agricultural past, as some thinkers about the beginning of the twentieth century dreamed of doing, was not a practicable solution. It conflicted with the tendency towards mechanization which had become quasi-instinctive throughout almost the whole world, and moreover, any country which remained industrially backward was helpless in a military sense and was bound to be dominated, directly or indirectly, by its more advanced rivals.

Nor was it a satisfactory solution to keep the masses in poverty by restricting the output of goods. This happened to a great extent during the final phase of capitalism, roughly between 1920 and 1940. The economy of many countries was allowed to stagnate, land went out of cultivation, capital equipment was not added to, great blocks of the population were prevented from working and kept half alive by State charity. But this, too, entailed military weakness, and since the privations it inflicted were obviously unnecessary, it made opposition inevitable. The problem was how to keep the wheels of industry turning without increasing the real wealth of the world. Goods must be produced, but they must not be distributed. And in practice the only way of achieving this was by continuous warfare.

The essential act of war is destruction, not necessarily of human lives, but of the products of human labour. War is a way of shattering to pieces, or pouring into the stratosphere, or sinking in the depths of the sea, materials which might otherwise be used to make the masses too comfortable, and hence, in the long run, too intelligent. Even when weapons of war are not actually destroyed, their manufacture is still a convenient way of expending labour power without producing anything that can be consumed. A Floating Fortress, for example, has locked up in it the labour that would build several hundred cargo-ships. Ultimately it is scrapped as obsolete, never having brought any material benefit to anybody, and with further enormous labours another Floating Fortress is built. In principle the war effort is always so planned as to eat up any surplus that might exist after meeting the bare needs of the population. In practice the needs of the population are always underestimated, with the result that there is a chronic shortage of half the necessities of life; but this is looked on as an advantage. It is deliberate policy to keep even the favoured groups somewhere near the brink of hardship, because a general state of scarcity increases the importance of small privileges and thus magnifies the distinction between one group and another.
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He wrote awesme and for a cause he truly beleived in. A good read, though it took a good amount of time. Still, if you are new to Orwell, pick up Animal Farm first. And ya, don't forget to google out information about the Stalin-Trotsky-Orwell love tirangle. Happy reading !!!!!!!!!!!!!

2006-06-28T00:20:00.000-07:00

Shalimar The Clown – Salman Rushdie

My fourth Rushdie book. The first one I read was "The Moor's last sigh". My mother had a tough time making me live a normal life till I finished reading it. I picked up "The midnight's children" with much excitement and found his strong "Rushdie Style" a bit too much. Still, the book made a descent read. It was "Fury" next time. Even if you get it as a freebie, for God's sake don't waste your time on this book. It needed reassurance by looking at the cover page to believe it was a Rushdie book.

"Fury" was a disaster; made me vow not to pick up any of the Rushdie books. I happened to read some reviews on the book afterwards. They say that is the worst ever Rushdie. I try to pick up books after checking out the reviews. Having read two of his other books, I didn't even think twice before picking up "Fury" without any reviews. That was a disaster.

"The Moor's last sigh" is simply the best out of the four I have finished. I didn't even realise that there is a suspense till I got to the last pages. And the revelation left me dumbstruck. Man, it is damn worth a try. The Zogaibi & Da Gama families and The Chipkali movements, his lady love etc etc etc.

"Shalimar The Clown" is OK. I would rate it same as or slightly above "Midnight's children". Even before I reached half way through the second chapter (it has only five big chapters), I could guess the rest. Still, the book could get me to read the whole thing, just to find out how it happened.

India :- The first chapter. Captivating.

Boonyi:- Second chapter. Beautiful and happening in the beautiful Kashmir.

Max:- Complicated. Second World War, Hitler. Even Charles De Gaulle himself makes a cameo appearance !!!!!

Shalimar The Clown: Can be well predicted still good.

Kashmira:- The end. Again, just as expected.

This man has got an amazing ability to mix up fiction with history. How easily is he talking about Second World War and Ratty Rhodes and Max Ophulus and the university and Charles De Gaulle as if everything else is as much real as the world war.

One thing that struck me is that he is unusually realistic in this book. Boonyi's friend gets raped and he DIDN'T write that "the night after she realised she has got two wings and flew up to the heavens". Rather the lady commits suicide at the end. There are certain aberrations while Shalimar the Clown escapes from the jail, but that was not over done.

The bottom line is "borrow & read".

2006-06-16T23:52:00.000-07:00

The PROPHET - Kahlil Gibran

This is the fifth time I am reading this book in its entirety. The first time I read I found it too tough for my level of cognition. Somehow, I wanted to decipher the meanings. Tried a second time which made it easier. Since then, anytime I see the book in my pile, I can't help but read atleast tose lines that I have underlined.

I am no one to talk about the greatness of the book. It is the most brilliant of all humanly written books. Atleast, considering the minimal number of books I have read. May be this is not just another book, but a guide to free you of all your illusions that cover the real knowledge lying behind. Gibran speaks of nothing more than what we all know, yet he speaks lot more.

I would call The Alchemist a good book. But can't even compare that with this book. I think I liked Alchemist because I read that first and then read The Prophet. Had it been the other way round, I am sure I would have found felt it was just another book.

Since I don't even think I am worthy of describing Gibran, let the book speak for itself.

These are some of my favorites. And there are still some of the lines which I haven't exactly understood.

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Love

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

Marriage

You shall be together when white wings of death scatter your days.
Aye, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
Love one another but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

Children

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

Giving

You give but little when you give of your possessions.
It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.
And you receivers - and you are all receivers - assume no weight of gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives.
Rather rise together with the giver on his gifts as on wings;
For to be overmindful of your debt, is to doubt his generosity who has the free-hearted earth for mother, and God for father.

Eating & Drinking

When you kill a beast say to him in your heart,
"By the same power that slays you, I to am slain; and I too shall be consumed. For the law that delivered you into my hand shall deliver me into a mightier hand. Your blood and my blood is naught but the sap that feeds the tree of heaven."

Work

And what is it to work with love?
It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.
It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.
It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.
It is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit,
And to know that all the blessed dead are standing about you and watching.

Joy & Sorrow

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Houses

Your house is your larger body.

Clothes

Your clothes conceal much of your beauty, yet they hide not the unbeautiful.

Buying & Selling

And if there come the singers and the dancers and the flute players, - buy of their gifts also.
For they too are gatherers of fruit and frankincense, and that which they bring, though fashioned of dreams, is raiment and food for your soul.

Crime & Punishment

But I say that even as the holy and the righteous cannot rise beyond the highest which is in each one of you,
So the wicked and the weak cannot fall lower than the lowest which is in you also.
And as a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree,
So the wrong-doer cannot do wrong without the hidden will of you all.

Laws

People of Orphalese, you can muffle the drum, and you can loosen the strings of the lyre, but who shall command the skylark not to sing?

Freedom

If it is an unjust law you would abolish, that law was written with your own hand upon your own forehead.
You cannot erase it by burning your law books nor by washing the foreheads of your judges, though you pour the sea upon them.
And if it is a despot you would dethrone, see first that his throne erected within you is destroyed.
For how can a tyrant rule the free and the proud, but for a tyranny in their own freedom and a shame in their won pride?
And if it is a care you would cast off, that care has been chosen by you rather than imposed upon you.
And if it is a fear you would dispel, the seat of that fear is in your heart and not in the hand of the feared.

Reason & Passion

Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against passion and your appetite.
Among the hills, when you sit in the cool shade of the white poplars, sharing the peace and serenity of distant fields and meadows - then let your heart say in silence, "God rests in reason." And when the storm comes, and the mighty wind shakes the forest, and thunder and lightning proclaim the majesty of the sky, - then let your heart say in awe, "God moves in passion."
And since you are a breath In God's sphere, and a leaf in God's forest, you too should rest in reason and move in passion.

Pain

Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.

Self Knowledge

Say not, "I have found the truth," but rather, "I have found a truth."
Say not, "I have found the path of the soul." Say rather, "I have met the soul walking upon my path."
For the soul walks upon all paths

Teaching

No man can reveal to you aught but that which already lies half asleep in the dawning of our knowledge.
The teacher who walks in the shadow of the temple, among his followers, gives not of his wisdom but rather of his faith and his lovingness
And even as each one of you stands alone in God's knowledge, so must each one of you be alone in his knowledge of God and in his understanding of the earth.

Friends

Your friend is your needs answered.
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.

Talking

And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered
When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the market place, let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your tongue.
Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear of his ear;
For his soul will keep the truth of your heart as the taste of the wine is remembered
When the colour is forgotten and the vessel is no more.

Time

Yet the timeless in you is aware of life's timelessness,
And knows that yesterday is but today's memory and tomorrow is today's dream.

Good & Evil

Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil.
For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?

Prayer

You pray in your distress and in your need; would that you might pray also in the fullness of your joy and in your days of abundance.
I cannot teach you how to pray in words.
God listens not to your words save when He Himself utters them through your lips.
And if you but listen in the stillness of the night you shall hear them saying in silence,
"Our God, who art our winged self, it is thy will in us that willeth.
It is thy desire in us that desireth.
It is thy urge in us that would turn our nights, which are thine, into days which are thine also.
We cannot ask thee for aught, for thou knowest our needs before they are born in us:
Thou art our need; and in giving us more of thyself thou givest us all."

Pleasure

And now you ask in your heart, "How shall we distinguish that which is good in pleasure from that which is not good?"
Go to your fields and your gardens, and you shall learn that it is the pleasure of the bee to gather honey of the flower,
But it is also the pleasure of the flower to yield its honey to the bee.
For to the bee a flower is a fountain of life,
And to the flower a bee is a messenger of love,
And to both, bee and flower, the giving and the receiving of pleasure is a need and an ecstasy.

Beauty

All these things have you said of beauty.
Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied,
And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.
It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,
But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears.

Religion

Your daily life is your temple and your religion.
Whenever you enter into it take with you your all.
And if you would know God be not therefore a solver of riddles.
Rather look about you and you shall see Him playing with your children.
And look into space; you shall see Him walking in the cloud, outstretching His arms in the lightning and descending in rain.
You shall see Him smiling in flowers, then rising and waving His hands in trees.

Death

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

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I had such a difficult time in selecting the lines to post here. I couldn't make up my mind as to what to omit and what to take. This is a book I keep with my holy books and I read during times of confusion and trouble. Never ever has a book influenced me so much. I am speechless .....

2006-06-04T21:50:00.000-07:00

The Flight of Pigeons – Ruskin Bond

Something that doesn’t fit into the Ruskin Bond style. Not recommended if you have something better to read.

I have read Ruskin Bond. Those were good, in the sense that it was as simple as he meant it to be. This is a serious subject. This doesn’t leave you with the kind tranquility other Bond books leave you. Nor does it make an impact in you such a subject would have made.

It is about Ruth Labador & her mother during the British Empire in India and the 1857 revolution. How they were orphaned and how they survived. Nothing more about the book.

With all respect and admiration to Ruskin Bond; pick up some other book of his, not this.

2006-06-02T06:24:00.000-07:00

Tuesdays with Morrie – Mitch Albom

All of you, who have read/are reading/planning to read any of those self-help books, please read this. There is nothing to like or dislike in the book. It is a simple books that tells you about a dying man how much he appreciates life. But if you are looking for some high fundas or philosophies on life, please don’t bother to read..

Morrie is a 70 year old dying man. And Albom was his student. Albom could never find the time to contact his professor before he learnt that the old man is dying. He goes to visit his old professor. And the book is all about their meetings on Tuesdays. I will just quote something from the book that struke me hard.

“Forgive yourself. And forgive others”

Forgive myself, that had always been the hardest part for me, even if my mistake is ridiculously silly.

“Death is so natural. It is just the part of the deal you made”

It can come anytime.

Morrie shakes you hard to open your eyes. He urges you appreciate little things in life. To love people, not to keep grudges, find pleasure in not being the first.

Things that we realize only on our death bed. Hopefully, we have time to imbibe the essence of Morrie’s last days.

This book had left a mark in my heart. Give it a try. May be you will learn to appreciate your own life, the people around, even the lifeless things around you. Believe me, that is a good feeling.

2006-05-29T02:43:00.000-07:00

Memories of my melancholy whores - Gabreil Garcia Marqez

Marquez is simply the best. This is the second book I am reading. The first one was the macondo story – One Hundred Years of Solitude. That was quite a read. Had to go back to the family tree given in the beginning so as not to relate the name with different person. Reading took some effort. But I don’t regret. Read Marquez and you will know what makes Nobel laureates Nobel laureates and Booker laureates Booker laureates. I won’t even attempt to draw parallels between Marquez with Salman Rushdie or Arundhati Roy, though I admire the other authors also. Marquez is simply unbeatable.

The book is about a 90 year old chronic bachelor who wants to celebrate his 90th birthday with an adolescent virgin. His special birthday gift to himself becomes an obsession and later the love of his life at the last hours of his life. Having with lots of women, the protagonist takes pride in the fact that he had always paid all of them. Even when they did out of love, he had forced them to take money.

Once he was to marry one of the most eligible ladies of the town. But on the very day of marriage he succumbed to his horror to commit and didn’t turn p in the church.

After all this, it is only at the age of 9 that he finds this girl. He never talks to the girl. For that matter he can’t even recognize her in the day light. And the funniest part is that he doesn't even sleep with her in the literal sense. Still he realizes she is the love of his life.

The story is all about his concerns about the 15 year old, his obssessions and his longing for her. This is one of the best books I have come across.

Next time you pass by a book shop, just drop in and pick up this book. I can guarantee you won’t be wasting your money.

2006-05-18T07:28:00.000-07:00

The Trial – Franz Kafka

This is the second novel of his I am reading in a row.

Thanks to Max Brod for rescuing this one and publishing. Otherwise Kafka never intended to get it published. This was rather unfinished when Kafka died. There is an ending ofcourse, which sounds plausible, but you never know if the author wanted to write more. There is a chapter that is unfinished. So that means, he wrote the ending and was bridging the gaps?

My poor vocabulary doesn’t give me a proper word to describe the book in one word. So I resort to the word - excellent.

The protagonist is a chief clerk in a bank named Josef K. One morning he gets up and finds two gentlemen waiting for him. In a few minutes he learns that he is put under arrest. For what? He never learns neither do us. He stops thinking of his fault or crime as we proceed. Rather he completely forgets that he has to know why he is arrested, within a couple of initial pages.

He was arrested in the strangest of ways. They say he is arrested and don’t reveal why. They admit they don’t know it themselves. And then they leave telling him he is free to lead his normal life but has to appear in court if summoned.

There are characters who appear during one particular chapter or other, whom you feel would be of great importance but suddenly disappear without any mention. There is Miss Burstner, Court Usher’s wife, the student, Titorelli the painter, Leni, The business man. But the most intriguing of all are the whip man and the policemen with him.

During his very first appearance in the court, he mentions that the policemen who came to arrest him had eaten his breakfast and wanted to take his expensive clothes. Then one day as he was leaving for home he hears some noise from the junk room in the bank. He sees the two policemen and a man with a whip. The whip man was punishing the two policemen as K had complained against them. I didn’t understand how is it possible for them to occupy the bank’s junk room. Does that mean K was loosing his mind owing the stress of trial? Or that was a deliberate act by the court to put more pressure on him? He finds everything repeated the next day also. I am confused.

Wherever K goes, he finds all the people and places are related to the court in some way or the other. Even the little girls at the painters place are also said to be belonging to the court. And once again there is no explanation as to why or how? I thought K would go back to the painter for help. He didn’t. or may be Kafka died before writing something more. In that case he would have written more chapters on all of these mysterial characters.

The second last chapter, The Cathedral, is the most intriguing of all chapters. He goes to the Cathedral to meet an Italian client but ends up meeting the priest. Who was that old man doing wild gestures? And how did the priest know K’s name? Even the priest turn out to be related to the court. Still this chapter is the best part of the novel.

In the last chapter two new men come and take K out. There they kill him by stabbing in his heart. K goes with them willingly, knowing that he would die. But we realize that only after a couple of paragraphs. Then why was he killed before his trial ended and a verdict was given?

It is said that Kafka took Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky as a reference. To be frank, I didn’t see any obvious influence of Dostoevsky. But it is quite possible.

There are again a lot of mundane activities explained in detail. Certain descriptions are brilliant. But some other is, though excellent narration drags a little long. For example the chapter in which he thinks about the advocate, the thought process is stretched too far that somewhere in the middle I got lost and had to go back and check if I have missed any lines in between as there was a conversational dialogue which confused me.

Kafka didn’t think that as readers we may need some explanation and conclusion. That is what makes this book different. There are lots of things that we are left without any reasoning. But that is the excitement in this book.

If you have some time to read a 100 page book, definitely go for this. I have become a Kafka fan.

2006-05-15T04:53:00.000-07:00

The Metamorphosis - Franz Kafka

Heard of this word – Kafkaesque?

Check in the dictionary and if you still don’t understand, read “The Metamorphosis” by Franz Kafka, the iconoclastic German novelist. Kafka’s style of writing is been interpreted through schools of Modernism, Magical Realism and Existentialism. With my limited knowledge of these schools of criticism and having read only one of his novels, I feel it is more of Existentialism and bit of Magical Realism.

Though they were into different mediums of expression, there is a glaring similarity between Kafka and Vincent Van Gogh, the post impressionist Dutch painter. Kafka remained unpublished and unnoticed till he died at a young age just as Van Gogh. Both were ill, Kafka physically and Van Gogh mentally ;). Today their works are among the most admired and sought after.

He doesn’t have any extra ordinary subject to explore in this book. It is rather a crazy idea. No sane soul would come up with a main character like this. I won’t say this is a brilliant piece of work. This is rather an unimaginable plot narrated through mundane incidents. but once you read you would want to go hunting all the book stores in town to gather all of his other works.

The protagonist is Gregor Samsa, a traveling salesman. One fine morning he wakes up and finds himself metamorphosed into a “horrible vermin”.

This is the first paragraph –

One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections. The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked.

The incredibility of the situation isn’t much explored. It is all about how the family takes care of the disgustingly huge vermin. Gregor was living with his bankrupt father, ailing mother and teenage sister. He was barely managing the financial needs of the family.

The book makes an irresistible read throughout. You have to read to believe how captive is the way he narrates about the first morning the metamorphosis happens. Gregor, the vermin, tries to crawl to the door and open it; the initial shock and acceptance by the family. His sister, Grete, takes his responsibly.

He is ashamed of his own physical appearance and is aware of the embarrassment and emotional trauma he”is forced to impose” on his family. So he hides under the couch every time a family member enters his room.

But it ends on a different note. Gregor, the darling and bread winner of the family, is helpless when he finds out all the others are forced to work to provide for the family. He is full of love for his siter and mom, but can’t express. He dies, much to the relief of his family. But don’t expect an overflow of emotions or tears through the pages.

The ending is what I liked the most. Things are normal and his family makes a quick entry to the normal life like Gregor never existed with them. Simple.

Kafka is, simply put, different. Read it. You will not regret spending the time on it.

It made a great reading to me. Give it a try.

2006-05-05T02:22:00.000-07:00

Siddhartha – Herman Hesse

My brother had seen a play on this book by some aspiring director whose name was Ajayan, I think. This happened when I was wasting time at home after my graduation. He came with full of admiration for the play and the book. And next week he managed to get a copy of the book.

This book has a philosophy, which I find very much true to my way of things. At the same it is very simple and the language is not complicated that I had to be glued onto the dictionary.

Siddhartha is desirable Brahmin youth. Adept in his vedic studies and the pride of his parents. He has a close friend Gopal(I guess that was his name). But Siddhartha wasn’t satisfied with the kind of life he was leading. So he decides to be a disciple of Gautama Buddha. His parents painfully agree. And Gopal chooses to follow his friend. Finally they reach their destination.

I vaguely remember certain conversation between Siddhartha and Buddha. There are two things that I am not impressed with at this stage. First one is that the wisdom of Buddha, I feel, isn’t highlighted enough. Second thing, the reason why Siddhartha decided to move on isn’t stressed to extend it should have. But I totally agree with the path chosen by him. I am convinced with the reason but not impressed with the narration.

Siddhartha goes in search of his destiny but Gopal decides to follow The Buddha. The best of friends, thus part their ways. Here I appreciate the individual space take by the friends. So is the fact that despite being inseperable in everything else, they accept it that their destinies are diferent. They accept it with an enviable tranquility. The author doesn't play with the emotions. But plays at a different and higher level, through out the book.

There after he gets to a kingdom where he gets everything from money to fame by his sheer knowledge and wisdom. He, still remains detached to his all that he had accumulated. He also meets Kamala, who is a courtesan. He knew he lacked the knowledge of love. So he chooses to learn it from her.

Though thoroughly impressed by the magnitude of his personality, initially she refuses to teach him anything unless she is paid for i t. After he gathers enough of money he starts frequenting her. There is an unsaid bond of love between them. Hesse doesn’t write much about that. But that can be easily read between the lines. The love and the mutual respect. The most wonderful aspect is that their love doesn’t bind them but set them free. They grow together.

This novel was filmed with Simi Gerewal as Kamala. And there was some controversial scene during there teachings. I don’t how was that handled in the movie. But the book handles it brilliantly.

One fine morning Siddhartha decides to leave everything and go back to his ascetic life. He was sitting in his garden while that thought came to him. He simply gets up and walks off. When Kamala comes to know about it, she doesn’t show any sorrow. But shuts the door of her bungalow forever to her patrons.

Siddhartha reaches a riverside and make acquaintance with a boatman on the river side. The man turns out to be a great teacher to him so he chooses to stay with him. When he dies, Siddhartha stays on as the next boatman.

One day Gopal happens to travel through that place thereby taking his assistance in crossing the river. Another day, Kamala comes there, totally unknowing that she would met him. She comes there with their son. She was on her way to The Buddha. I think both Gopal and Kamala were going as The Buddha has passed away. I don’t remember.

But the reunions are written well. There is no emotional turmoil. And Kamala dies in is lap. He is happy to get his son. But the guy isn’t happy living in his hut as he is acuustomed to his mother’s bungalow. The kid runs off. Siddartha searches him everywhere in vein. Finally he comes back with the kind of pace he had always been searching.

This is not one of those typical books that speak about Moksha or Nirvana. Rather this book tells us not to run away from the life as a layman. Take learning from everywhere. From the boatman, from the courtesan, from the merchant or from the lady at the well.

Siddhartha lives through all phases of life. But never ever he is quenched of his thirst for knowledge. Even Gautama The Buddha couldn’t fill his needs !!!!!!!!!!

Through out the book you can see the silent veneration of Siddhartha towards Buddha.

To be frank, I didn’t find it as much impressive as my brother told me. But yea, the underlying philosophy is very much thought provoking. I feel there is no point in running off from life and being an ascetic searching for peace or knowledge. It is all in your perception. And the biggest ability is the ability to be open to all forms of knowledge, even those that the so called sophisticated scholars would scorn at.

Will I ever e able to step out of my ego, my preconceived notions and my complacence ? I wish I could ...

2006-05-04T03:35:00.000-07:00

City of Joy- Dominique Lapere

I have read 2 more books of him co-authored with Larry Collins - Freedom At Midnight and Is Paris Burning. Both are really good, especially the First one as it is about Indian Independence. We can relate to it. Second one Is about the France's fight against Hitler during World War 2. Again good. Very captive writing style.

City of Joy is about a slum in Calcutta. There is a movie by that name which I haven’t seen. It is told by means of an evangelist priest who serves the poor, living with them. He lives a devout Christian life, yet come to discover that Hindu, Muslim or Buddhist, God is right there with us. God has no religion or name. The priest wasn’t the usual lot who would create a big hulla-bulla about conversions and religious brain washing. He didn’t attempt anything of that sort.

He accepted the religion of the slum, the religion of humanity, as his own. He was such a great man of God that he could assimilate everything into his God. He would chant Om Jesus and be apart of the religious celebrations of Hindus and Muslims of the slum. There is not a single mention of an occasion where anyone had been inspired to convert into Christianity by him. May be, it takes more than our dead brains to decipher the real meaning of The Bible. He did. He is, indeed a great man.

The people of the slum also, embraced him as one of them. They had there initial apprehension about his true intentions, quite justifiable. But that gave way to the true love flowed from him. There is a scene at a railway station where the Ghosh family was returning to their village. The man of the family asked the priest to bless him in the name of Jesus even if he was a Hindu. He considered Jesus as just another form of an all encompassing, omnipotent God.

It was great to read how Kovalski(the priest) got the people together to improve their lives. How he instilled confidence in them and how he overcome his own reservations about the Lepers and the Hijras. I would have puked onto the book when the author narrated about the crude amputation of the lepors and the castration of the Hijras.

The second protagonist is a young peasant who migrated to Calcutta from Bihar, owing to a bad famine. It is about how the poor thing struggled to make a meager survival with his family, how he gets one hope after the other. I was touched deeply while reading about his pains in collecting the dowry for his daughter. Have you heard of selling your own bones? This guy did. And the buyer paid him 500 bucks and waited for him to die so that he could collect the bones and export it to US universities.

There are flaws in the book, or may be I can’t help being an inveterate critic. I have felt that the author takes a sarcastic look at the other religions, at times. And he has glorified Mother Teresa a little too much, again at times. But the author is well known as a disciple of hers. And I have some personal reservations about her, though I respect her for her life dedicated to the suffering.

This book tells u, there is a god, who lives right here with u. Man, I am moved by reading this. I really fell what use are lives of? We can't live in harmony with our roommates. Still crib about a boss or the canteen food.

This is one of the best books I have ever read. And the best, as far as the non-fiction and non-story types are concerned. This is a relatively fat book. But worth it.

Must read as an Indian. More over, must read as a human being.

There were occasions I felt my eyes getting wet, both 'cos of sorrow and 'cos of joy. I didn’t read the book. But the author made me live thru it. I lived in The City of Joy.