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Showing posts with label literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label literature. Show all posts

31 July, 2013

I couldn't let the day go by...

...without wishing Harry Potter and his creator, Joanne Kathleen Rowling, a very Happy Birthday.

When I think of the books, the movies, websites, games and other books that they have spawned, I am reminded of a couplet in Urdu:

Main akela hi chala tha janib-e-manzil magar 
Humsafar milte gaye aur kafila banta gaya
I had started alone on this journey
But people joined and it became a multitude

The best way to celebrate here at my blog would be to share with you a book that throws light on the literary influences on Rowling's iconic work.

Pic courtesy flipkart
Harry Potter's Bookshelf
The great books behind the Hogwarts adventures
Written by John Granger
Published by Berkley Publishing Group, Penguin.

As John Granger (no relation to Hermione Granger) says in his disclaimer, "This book is not authorized, prepared, approved, licensed, or endorsed by JK Rowling, Warner Bros., or any other individual or entity associated with the Harry Potter books or movies."

It is, however, an interesting treatise about the possible literary influences that clearly had their effect on Rowling's work. From classic mythology and folklore to Shakespeare, from Gothic romances to classics by Jane Austen, Dickens and their contemporaries, from detective fiction by the likes of Dorothy L Sayers, Agatha Christie, etc., to children's writers like Enid Blyton with her school stories and fairy tales, from the Christian scriptures to feminist writing, from war stories to the paranormal, there is all here. The author, John Granger, has gone genre by genre, explaining how the 7 books read in that particular genre, and how there are little things Rowling has taken from there, as well as the big picture.

This is a book to read if you are merely a lover of Harry Potter books, or only a literature buff. Or, preferable and happily, both. One understands the Potter stories from a completely different angle with each chapter, and is amazed at the range and depth of Rowling's knowledge and research.

Do read.


28 July, 2011

Review: A Poem for CRY

Pic courtesy infibeam
A Poem for CRY
Favourite poems of famous Indians
Compiled and edited by Avanti Maluste and Sudeep Doshi
Published by Viking: Penguin Group
Foreword by Amartya Sen

I borrowed this book from a friend. A perfect book for dipping into. A perfect book for a rainy day. Thanks P!

Human emotion can be a tricky thing. At once overwhelming and finely nuanced, it is a slippery being. It becomes difficult, sometimes impossible, to express what one wants to say, what one is feeling. Sometimes one does not want to express one's feelings, but just clarify, validate, what something nebulous that one feels is. Sometmes one is in search of that perfect punch line that is just there...at the tip of one's tongue, but elusive.

Poetry is the refuge of all such souls. Sometimes a few lines express so well what one has not even admitted to oneself that it makes us wonder - how did the poet know so well? And then one has one's favourite poet, favourite poems.

Amartya Sen says in his foreword - "If one can find the right poem, quoting someone else can be as much an expression of one's deeper self as anything one can write oneself. This is a remarkable collection not only for the beauty and reach of the poems themselves, but also for what it tells us about many people who have been active in one walk of life or another, since the selections allow us to have a quick peek into their minds." 

A Poem for Cry is an anthology of favourite poems by what sounds like the Who's Who of India. Adi Godrej, Rahul Dravid, Gulzar, Sachin Tendulkar, Jyotiraditya Scindia, Indira Hinduja, Anjolie Ela Menon, Sri Sri Ravishankar, Nandan Nilekani, Aparna Sen, Kiran Bedi, Shah Rukh Khan, Amartya Sen, Lata Mangeshkar, Tarun Tahliani, Vikram Seth, Zubin Mehta, Jayant Narlikar, Kiran Majumdar Shaw, Dom Moraes, Rahul Bajaj, Amitabh Bachchan, Pandit Bhimsen Joshi, Medha Patkar, Mulk Raj Anand, Derek O'Brien, Atal Bihari Vajpayee, Justice Y. V. Chandrachud, Fareed Zakaria, Sonia Gandhi, Shyam Benegal, Pandit Ravi Shankar, Azim Premji ... You get the picture?

Some of the poems in this anthology?

Daffodils by William Wordsworth. Mulk Raj Anand, Vishwanathan Anand. Karan Johar.
If (If you can keep your head when all about you) by Rudyard Kipling. Lord Bagri. Farzana Contractor. Rahul Dravid. Adi Godrej. Parameshwar Godrej.
The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost. Manvinder Singh Banga. Harsh Goenka. Uday Kotak. Azim Premji.
Epitaph on a Tyrant by W.H.Auden. Shyam Benegal.
Footprints In The Sand by Mary Stevenson.  Dr Indira Hinduja. Jyotiraditya Scindia.
Abraham Lincoln's letter to his son's teacher. Shah Rukh Khan.
And Still I Rise by Maya Angelou. Malavika Sangghvi.
The Pied Piper of Hamelin by Robert Browning. Naseeruddin Shah.
Speak Gently by David Bates. Brinda Somaya.
Where The Mind Is Without Fear by Rabindranath Tagore. Tariq Ansari. Rahul Bajaj. Nana Chudasama. Aamir Khan. Anand Patwardhan. Aruna Roy. Prannoy Roy. Mallika Sarabhai. Viren Shah. Kiran Majumdar Shaw. Kavitha Krishnamurthy Subramaniam.

And many more.

The anthology does not limit itself to poems from English. There are poems in Hindi, Marathi, Urdu, Gujarati, Bangla, Tamil, Sanskrit. I was thrilled to find the Gayatri Mantra recommended by Nandan Nilekani. These poems are printed in the original followed by an English translation.

Quite a few poems were not known to me, as were a few poets. Some intrigued me enough for me to do a search for more poetry by that poet. A learning experience.

For A too. I read Abraham Lincoln's letter to his son's teacher to her, and I could sense her paying very close attention. Why? Let me reproduce the poem here.

He will have to learn, I know
that all men are not just,
all men are not true.
But teach him also that
for ever scoundrel there is a hero;
that for every selfish politician,
there is a dedicated leader.
Teach him that for every enemy there is a friend.
Teach him to learn to lose...
and also to enjoy winning.
It will take time, I know;
but teach him, if you can,
that a dollar earned is of far more value
than five found...
Steer him away from envy,
if you can,
teach him the secret of
quiet laughter.
Let him learn early that
the bullies are the easiest to lick...
Teach him, if you can,
the wonder of books...
But also give him quiet time
to ponder over the eternal mystery of birds in the sky,
bees in the sun,
and flowers on a green hillside.
In school teach him
it is far more honourable to fail
than to cheat...
Teach him to have faith
in his own ideas,
even if every one tells him
they are wrong...
Teach him to be gentle
with gentle people,
and tough with the tough.
Try to give my son
the strength not to follow the crowd
when every one is getting on the bandwagon.
Teach him to listen to all men...
but teach him also to filter
all he hears on a screen of truth,
and take only the good
that comes through.
Teach him, if you can,
how to laugh when he is sad...
Teach him there is no shame in tears,
Teach him to scoff at cynics
and to beware of too much sweetness...
Teach him to sell his brawn
and brain to the highest bidders
but never to put a price tag
on his heart and soul.
Teach him to close his ears
to a howling mob
and to stand and fight
if he thinks he’s right.
Treat him gently;
but do not cuddle him,
because only the test of fire
makes fine steel.
Let him have the courage
to be impatient...
let him have the patience to be brave.
Teach him always
to have sublime faith in himself,
because then he will always have
sublime faith in mankind.
This is a big order;
but see what you can do...
He is such a fine little fellow,
my son!

As are our daughters! A was listening wide-eyed, and smiling as I ended it. As soon as I finished reading it, she got up and hugged me tight. Probably recognising the love behind all the scoldings I seem to be giving her currently. Pre-teens!

This is certainly a book I'll want to buy for my own collection. The copyright is held by CRY :Child Rights and You. All profits will go to them.

Crossposted at Bookreviews.

I am entering this book for the 2011 South Asian Challenge and the Reading the World Challenge 2011 at Papertigers. India. Non-fiction. Poetry. 

27 June, 2011

On the love of books - and a giveaway!

First: My friend Zoe, over at Playingbythebook has a fabulous new giveaway that I would love to get my hands on. It is a children's movie, Eleanor's Secret, a must-see for those who love books, and those who would love to see a movie which promises some lovely 'un-adult-rated' fun (Zoe's word, not mine!) You may go over to her post to view details of the giveaway! I have put in my claim, too, and am keeping all fingers (and toes) crossed!


Pic courtesy flipkart.com
Talking about love for books, I recently came upon this wonderful book that I would love to share with fellow book lovers.

THE GROANING SHELF
and other instances of book love
Written by Pradeep Sebastian
Published by Hachette India

This is that ultimate fantasy for me- a book about books and about love for books- that explains a lot about my inexplicable book-lust:

Why I need to explore every book shop there is in any place.

Why I need to visit every book sale.

Why I need to own every book that I feel A or I would love to read.

Why I have more books in my house than an average person would need in her/his life, lying around in piles.

Why I need to read and re-read many of my books.

Why I need to shuffle my books around on shelves periodically, taking them off the shelves, sorting through them, opening those that I haven't looked at in a while, losing track of time, and then putting them all back over a period of weeks, by which time it is again time to sort through them!

Why I do not consider the above described work as a chore, but enjoy it thoroughly, spinning it out.

Why I start the work with an intention to clear clutter, (shame on me for considering books clutter, but an excess of even books takes up space.) but end up putting most of the books back, as I cannot bear to give them away. Yeah, Sangi, I need the Serenity Prayer too!

Why reading a well-loved book, caressing the pages and breathing in the fragrance of paper and ink is the ultimate sensual experience.

"This pleasurable, absorbing ritual of rearranging books, even trying to downsize one's library, now seems to be really about getting to know these books all over again. To pick up one from the shelves, remember where and when you bought it, and recall the pleasure that finding the book gave you - this is why a book collector gets all her books off and on the shelves every year."

Pradeep Sebastian speaks of the collecting of books, even of first editions, and brings to our notice the difference between a bibliomaniac (...has a rage for collecting and possessing books) and a bibliophile (a book collector of refined judgement, the quality of whose library reflects his or her exacting bibliographical standards). Where do I stand? Somewhere in between.

We come to know of the different reasons we buy a book - not just for its content. The edition, the cover design, illustrations, paper quality, the font used, the whole look and feel of the book, too matter. Ask me- I often buy whole lots by a favoured author, and favour certain publications which add to the overall experience of reading.

First editions, especially if in a pristine condition with their book jackets, and if they are signed or inscribed by the author, could become valuable additions to one's collection par with rare pieces of art by masters.

We have chapters on rare books, history of books in the world, and in India.

A whole section on notable works by his favourite authors, which include works by Pico Iyer, J.D.Salinger, Arthur Conan Doyle, Ayn Rand and Ira Levin. He discusses both the life and works of these writers, giving us a peek into how their creative energies worked.

A whole section on noteworthy bookshops in India, book museums and a chapter on books in movies. Yes, 'You've got mail' is one of the movies discussed, as are '84 Charing Cross Road', 'The Name of the Rose', 'The Mystic Masseur', 'Fahrenheit 451' and 'The Jane Austen Book Club'. There is also a real story, about how a documentary about an out of print classic, the only book by that author (The Stones of Summer by Dow Mossman) resurrected that book in print.

Some of the chapters on the actual experience of reading gave me an eerie sense of 'he's reading my mind'!.

"The books we read make us part of a larger (invisible) community of readers. Could the opposite be true as well? That our reading makes us lonely. Wrapped up in a book, we shut the world out, cutting ourselves off from those who cannot share in our private world."

Maybe. But then I find that my reading can also open up a world of like-minded friends, where we can share our mutual love of, and impressions of different books, enriching us all. I think the reading-aloud of books shared by A and I is a part of this process, as is this compulsive sharing of a book I loved with all of you in my reviews. I want to convey what I loved about a book, maybe compel you to pick it up!

There is an interesting chapter on re-reading. I'll quote - "What a commited reader has with a book is a relationship. And like most relationships, it is sustaining, volatile, vulnerable...the question is - does the book remain the same book the second time around? Are we even the same readers when we revisit these books?...it seems to me that our experience alters the book even as the book alters our experience."

Very true. A book that I have loved reading could not be read just once. One reads it rapidly at first, then mulls over what one has read for a while- which could be anything from a few hours to a few years. One then HAS to return to the book and read it over and over again, finding things one has not noticed or noted at the first reading, somehow managing to internalise the book, until it becomes a part of one's self.

As J.K.Rowling said while announcing PotterMore: "the experience of reading requires that the imaginations of the author and reader work together to create the story."

There is obviously more to reading than just a pastime, just a gleaning of information or learning of something. It is a whole experience that has to be, well, experienced. Even books that one has loved and lost, or books that one has encountered in a store or library, found interesting, but not gotten around to really reading through, never to find them again, are part of this experience.

Let me end with one more quote from this wonderful book by Pradeep Sebastian. This one for non-readers, too!

"I often envy non-readers for all the wonderful books out there that they have never read. Imagine the number of books that await them and the joy of encountering these great works for the first time. A favourite literary fantasy of mine has been to turn amnesiac for a year and read all my favourite books as though for the first time." 

I am entering this review for the 2011 Global Reading Challenge under Asia and in the 2011 South Asian Challenge at S.Krishna's books.

13 June, 2011

Reading to A- and a 100 stars in my sky

THIS IS MY 100th POST.

I thank you, all my friends, for reading what I needed to say, and encouraging me along the way. I have learned a lot along the way, and have got to know some wonderful people.

And what better way to mark it than to speak of some books A and I have loved reading together?

But first, an update: We have already received all five of the picture postcards that we were expecting as part of the 2011 international postcard swap for families hosted by Zoe over at Playingbythebook, a wonderful person who blogs about books for children, and the fun her girls have working with those books.

And now for the rest of our post, on reading aloud to A, and- you guessed it- Harry Potter.

*Spoiler Alert * Do not read the rest of the post if you want to find out for yourself what happens in the seven books!

Recently Prabha, a co-contributor at Saffrontree wrote to me about her daughter K, all of 9, beginning to read the books, and how she was a bit apprehensive about it. Understandably so, as the books have much that could be 'iffy', depending on the POV. They are unslottable to a large extent, as the age spectrum of those enjoying them seems to stretch from kids as young as 6yrs (it makes me wonder how many GET them? Isn't it a disservice to them if we let them read this stuff at such a young age, robbing them of the pleasure of discovering them when they are actually old enough to grasp the full import of what they are reading?) to adults.

Prabha says, "I thought it offered a lot of meat to go over. The sheer number of characters, the plot, the writing and to carry the reader through seven books- kudos to JKR!...Do let me know your thoughts, S, about your experiences...K will continue reading them this year...I didn't mind letting her watch the movies before finishing up the books...the movies have given a lot away, but I am glad she now has a frame of reference and can absorb things better and all those that the movie hasn't covered, and enjoy it for the pure writing aspect alone!" 

Some time back, Starry had made this comment on one of my Potter posts:  "Nervous about introducing HP to Div...we'll start from Jan, I think we will go slow anyway with books 1 and 2, which are relatively lighter. Like the question A asked, I guess there will be many q's...I love the intricate plot and logic of every single thing in these books."  Div, too, is 9.

So here's what I feel.

I have always read aloud to A, ever since she could sit up on my lap. She loved it. So even after she could read on her own, we continued with our habit, except that I would choose books that were meatier, or were a little bit above her age group, either in terms of the language, or the content.

Language was handled easily enough, and there would often be a word, or a phrase/idiom that would baffle her. I explained these to her in terms she understands, and she often used them subsequently, sometimes with pretty hilarious results, but usually correctly.

Sometimes, the language of a book, usually an old classic, would be simple enough, but the narrative would be a bit tedious. At such times it helped that I was reading aloud, so that I could tide her over the boring bits in anticipation of what I knew would come. Sometimes, the old English would be difficult to understand, with quaint words not much used these days. That, too, could be rephrased while explaining it to her.

Content was a bit difficult. We have often embarked on a book, sometimes to abandon it after a chapter or so, as she could not really relate to it. Sometimes it was the genre- I found that currently she does not enjoy anything to do with horror; it gives her nightmares. It was not necessary that there be anything graphic- she didn't enjoy Morpurgo's 'The Giant's necklace'. But she enjoys the cousins of horror- she likes suspense, action and black humour, for example- a case in point are the books by Roald Dahl, a master of black humour.

Sometimes it was just that the content was too much for her age- she could not visualise what was happening, or relate to it. I would then just shelve the book, to return to it at a later date when I thought she might appreciate it better. We had to do that with 'Anne of Green Gables', which we had attempted at 8 yrs- I think the time may be right for it sometime now.

So at the age of 8, when she showed an interest in the Potter books, seeing as she would see me reading them, I wondered if they could be the next ones to be read aloud. We were reading aloud the two Alice books by Lewis Carroll at the time.

She loved them. She had already read Enid Blyton's Naughtiest Girls series, Tom Brown's Schooldays and What Katy did at School, so she had a fair idea of a boarding school system. This was like a natural continuation of that, with magic, just darker.

Books 1, 2, 3 were fine. She was a bit distressed by the targeting of Harry, the ostracizing that he has to suffer from his classmates, the mutterings, etc., in book 2. It did give us an opportunity to discuss how her peers perceive her as 'different' on account of her disinterest in bollywood, fashion, etc.

She would introspect a lot on what we read, and would throw up many interesting questions, which showed her insight into many complex aspects of the books. Some would not have occured to me, too, till then, and I needed to do a bit of thinking and analysing of my own to answer her. She does this with everything we read aloud, and sometimes it is troublesome- for eg., if the questions are asked at 7am, when we have a school bus to catch at 7.25, and I have lunches and breakfasts to prepare, the mind working on the next thing to be done on the schedule!:)

We finished book 3 around the time she was 8.5, and we discussed the options. I told her book 4 was a bit distressing, and that each subsequent book increases in its distress quotient, so we needed to take it a bit slow. She is to tell me if I needed to pause for a while or stop. She was fine till the chapter where Voldemort is resurrected, and then she didn't want me to read near her bedtime. So we finished book 4- and moved on to book 5.

In the meantime, we were also watching the movies as we progressed. I can understand about having a frame of reference while reading the book if the movie has already been watched. Can be helpful in placing the details in context. We have done that for so many books- notably those based on the classics- we saw Alice in Wonderland, Winnie the Pooh, Heidi, The Little Princess, Peter Pan, Pinocchio, and many more on screen before we read the books- and have enjoyed them thoroughly.

But HP, I think is about more than just the story, the incredibly wonderful characterisation, the rich imagination and impeccable English. Not all of it has come across in the movies.

It is also a story with a philosophy, with a lot of logic, the interlinking of plots, the way Rowling never introduces anything which may not be significant at some other stage, the way even her comic relief has a place in the larger picture. That mountains can be moved by faith, hope, love, compassion, courage, sacrifice, loyalty, team work and hard work. That even those considered too far gone can get back on the right track if only they wanted to. That there is always a choice.

Difficult for grown-ups, too, to grasp, to realise, to internalise. I am trying, too, and believe me, it is not easy.

I wanted A to absorb all that- which, I feel she is, and sometimes more, going by the questions she comes up with. I am sure these lessons will have to be reinforced many times over before she can internalise them, but they have been introduced.

She has all that in her mind while watching the movie- as also this interesting concept of alternative ways in which the story can go- since Warner Brothers have made their own changes to the story when adapting it to the screen. Changes I don't really like, being a purist of sorts as far as this series is concerned, since Rowling has got a tight plot, with all ends tied.

Anyway- back to the books. We went through book 5 with a lot of interest, as there are so many details here, and sometimes it feels as though Rowling is rambling, but isn't. As we reached the middle of the book, I prepared A for the unexpected ending. We spoke about how now that Voldemort is back, there are bound to be distressing things happening, sometimes quite unexpectedly- but how that has to be accepted, and even taken as a mark of the author's wonderful storytelling skills, the way she keeps one on the edge, wanting to know- what next? And packing a punch just when least expected. Inspite of this she was distressed on the death of Sirius, more for Harry than anyhing else, as she saw him as orphaned once more.

We finished book 5 sometime in March this year. She was quite upset, so I told her we'll put the rest on hold for a while. But kids are very resilient, and do a lot of growing up in a very short time. It is amazing. After we were back from Mumbai, she told me she wanted to finish the last two books before the last movie is released, as she wanted to watch it on the big screen. It helped, that two of her closest friends- Choxbox' FB and another girl at school had also finished reading all the books and were keen for A to read them so that they could discuss them. I would give full credit to both girls for restraining themselves from putting across any spoilers- just egging her on.

So I told her to expect more deaths, more distressing ones. We have just finished book 6 yesterday, and she seems to be handling it quite well. Book 7 is going to be bit different. It has a lot of philosophy packed into it, so I'll have to see how much of A really 'gets.' I think she is mature enough to handle just the story, and it wouldn't hurt to read it so that she can really enjoy the movie on the big screen.

A needed a bit of hand-holding through many parts of the series, but it might not have been this easy on her if she had had to read it by herself. While reading to her, I always omit reading out some distressing graphic bits- like yesterday when I skipped over the vivid description of the inferi creeping nearer to attack Harry and Dumbledore in the cave- stuff sure to have triggered nightmares. It will keep for when she reads them on her own- she is already through books 1-3 on her own.

Even if she had read the books on her own, I am sure she would have come to me with questions, but I would not have been able to anticipate her distress and prepare her for it. Although I am sure that the whole series has made her look at books and storytelling in a different way, and she has matured considerably in her reading- can go on to stronger stuff- reading to her or even on her own. Am happy about it.

Next on the cards- The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings books.  She can read Percy Jackson, Diane Wynne Jones, Cornelia Funke etc. on her own.

Will be getting back to the topic after we are done with the reading aloud of book 7. Till then!

08 July, 2010

A library affair

This post by Pratham Books had me ruminating over libraries I had encountered in my life and the role they have played. The first ever library I remember is the one at my school. We had two libraries.One for the junior school ( for upto the 4th grade) and another for the senior school (5th to 10th grade). The junior library was very spacious with open shelves all around and colourful chairs and tables in clusters. I joined the school in the 3rd grade, but I do remember that my library card had the maximum permissible issue-outs.

The senior library was more, you know, serious looking. There were wooden cabinets with glass doors all around, filled with the most wonderful books categorised by topic and sub-categorised alphabetically by author. We had one open shelf where the latest books aquired by the library were displayed. We had a library class twice a week, when we were steered toward the books we should be reading and periodicals like the Readers' Digest and National Geographic which would broaden our minds. I read all of those, and much more. Here, again, my library card had to be re-made twice in the year. In the 70s and 80s we did not have the cards that could be swiped. We had the old fashioned ones which had columns and rows where a date-stamper would stamp the due-date, which was also stamped on the corresponding leaflet in the book issued out. The card would be kept in a card-folder in the library. Needless to say, the card was never taken home by me except during the vacations.

Mrs K, the librarian, was a favourite teacher. We had a tradition in school. On Teachers' Day, students from the 10th grade would be assigned roles of teachers. We would dress as the teachers and actually take one class as that teacher. No prizes for guessing whose role I had been assigned!

We had a book festival every year in February in school. It was always a massive affair. It would be advertised in the local newspapers, and went on for a whole week, just after the school closed for the vacations. Prizes in school were given in the form of gift vouchers that could be used at this book festival. There were all kinds of books for all kinds of minds. We chose our books and submitted them to Mrs K, and they would be given to us on re-opening day with our names and the prize details inscribed inside under the school logo. Real keepsakes.

As though the books I took home from school were not enough, I had joined a library outside too. Nowadays it is a common thing to do. But 30 years ago, not many people did that, not here in India. Correspondingly, there were no public libraries suitable for children. This library that I frequented was actually a used-book shop, which would take back the book after it was read, and deduct 50paisa (a large amount in those days) as reading fee. Soon, the bookshop owner knew us very well, and stopped charging the entire price of the book, but would just charge a monthly fee from us.

The libraries we had in college do not count here, as all they had were the study books, and could not be used for reading pleasure. I also stayed at a hostel for a lot of this time, so could not use the bookshop-library. It was at this relatively book-starved period of my life that I began to put aside some of my pocket money toward buying books. The continuation of a home library begun in my school days with the books received as prizes.

It was around the time I graduated that I became a member of the British Library. At that time, we needed a student ID or a work ID to become a member. I remember being awe-struck by the library in Mumbai. The opulence and the hushed premises were very unlike anything I had known in my middle-class life till then. Unless one counted the atmosphere in my school library during a class in session, each head bent over a book.

I have been a member at the British Library for many years now, off-and-on, whenever I was in a place that had one of their branches. In between we were in the US for a few years and in the UK for a few months. Public libraries here are wonderful. Free for residents of the town/village, with accessibility over all libraries around the county. These libraries demolished my impression of libraries as sombre places, where reigns a pin-drop silence. They do come under the heading of 'quiet places', but are also fun places where there are story-telling sessions, activities, both for children and grown-ups, and a parent with one or more children reading aloud and giggling over a book, lost to the rest. This was a new avatar of the library for me. One I fell in love with.

Back home in India, I was delighted to find that the British Library branch where I went for membership had undergone a metamorphosis of sorts, and was no longer the kind where one would expect members in a black-tie-dress-code. It had loosened up, if that is the right term to use, and although not quite the place full of delights I had encountered on my travels, was a pleasant enough place. One that A and I enjoyed going to.

Last month, however, we decided to shift loyalties and became members at Hippocampus, a library in Koramangala which has come closest to my dream library.

Library experience has come a long way from the days in which I frequented the bookshop where we paid 50paisa as reading fee for every book and I had to shift aside piles of books I didn't find interesting to find that one book I wanted to read. Now we are spoilt for choice. We have the online library, where one can browse in virtual shelves, where you place an order online and the books are delivered to your doorstep. A boon for the time-starved working bibliophile. Then we have libraries which combine the experience of browsing at real shelves with the facility of ordering online, as also buying select books available in the 'own your copy' section.

In the meantime, our home library is slowly growing. As the husband also reads a lot, we both had our individual collections which were put together when we married. The library kept growing slowly, and now most of the additions are books for A. We have more books than anything else at home, and on an average day lying all over the place. I have become the person you come to for a book recommendation, or even for a book itself among my friends and neighbours. On my part, there's nothing I love to see as much as another person/child being converted over to the readers' side.

According to the post by Pratham books,  ''putting libraries in malls is one of many efforts by public libraries to become more convenient." Maybe it is the call of the times, when going to a mall is considered one of those things that come high on the 'to do' list of an average person. Putting a library in their path may be one of the ways we can grow readership.

02 July, 2010

Of Mockingbirds and Harry

Two things lead to my writing this post.

One: I recently re-read for the nth time TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD.
Written by Harper Lee.
This edition published by Arrow publications.
Ages: young adult.

Image: Courtesy Flipkart.

The book was published on 11th July 1960, the only book written by Harper Lee, and will complete 50 years. It is an iconic book, which should be required reading for everyone above 16yrs. I first read it as a teen, and at every reading, I learn something new, both about the book, and about myself.

The story is set in Alabama, USA, or the Deep South as it was called, in the 1930s. Racial problems were the norm. Atticus Finch is a white lawyer, who is the only person with the courage to defend in court Tom Robinson, a coloured man charged with raping a white woman. Tom claims that he is innocent, and Atticus believes he is, as he knows him very well. It is just his word against that of a white woman and her father. In the end, as racial matters stand, the jury rules against Tom. While being shifted to another jail, now as a convicted man, he makes an attempt to escape, and is killed by the sheriff's men.

The story is told from the point of view of Scout, Atticus' 8yr old daughter, her brother Jem, 4 years older than her, and a neighbouring child, Dill. The book is said to be autobiographical, with Scout being the young Harper Lee. Their mother is dead, and they are being brought up by Atticus with help from the coloured housekeeper, Calpurnia, who is more than just a housekeeper to the family. She is a valuable member, who does not shirk from disciplining the children. There is a very telling incident in which a child from school is visiting them for dinner, and Scout laughs at him for something that he would like to eat. Without making her feel small in front of the guest, Calpurnia calls her into the kitchen, and tells her, "...this that boy is your guest. He could eat the whole tablecloth if he wants to."  In many ways she reminds me of Mammy, the coloured housekeeper in "Gone with the Wind," who is a mother figure to Scarlett O'Hara.

There is a man in a neighbouring house, who has a history of being jailed in his youth for some misdemeaners, who is kept behind closed doors by his father. Myths about him abound among the children. Arthur "Boo" Radley becomes a monster in their eyes, a person to be frightened of. Courage, for the children, is in touching the door to Boo's house and running back. Scout is the only child who meets Boo in the book, and realises that there is nothing really to be afraid of. It is prejudice about Boo that made them fear him, just as prejudice against a coloured man, Tom, makes the white people believe in his 'crime.' As a German proverb says, "Fear makes the wolf seem bigger than it is."

Atticus is a gentle person, with a core of steel. He takes on the town single-handedly. Jem and Scout, who are witnesses to the courtroom proceedings, see their father with new eyes. They are old enough to understand a lot of what is going on, so of course, they come to their father with questions. In a talk he has with them, he says,  "I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do."

It is a summer of revelation, a time of growing up and the loss of innocence. As Scout later says, "It was times like these when I thought my father, who hated guns and had never been to any wars, was the bravest man who ever lived."  There are many kinds of courage it deals with. The 'courage' of Jem in touching Boo's house door and running back, the courage with which Calpurnia and Atticus deal with the rabid dog in an incident in the book, the courage of his convictions that Atticus displays in his handling of the children and his single-handedly taking on of the whole town's prejudices. The courage with which Tom faces the court and the lack of courage displayed by Mayella, the white woman who accuses Tom. It is a wonderful book, one which I have gifted to many friends and relations.

Two: I saw the trailer of the next Harry Potter movie. I am an avid fan of J.K.Rowling, In her book Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, she quotes Franklin D Roosevelt when a major character applauds Harry for his choice of the thing he fears-"There is nothing to fear but fear itself." Harry is all too human in his attributes. Flawed, incomplete in many ways. He knows for a long time now that he is on borrowed time. Inspite of that, he meets his destiny head-on, with courage. Just as Harper Lee has said in her book. Courage here is not the lack of fear, but inspite of it.

This movie, HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS, will be released in two parts, in 3D. Part 1 is due for November 2010, and Part 2 for July 2011. Are you all fans reading this? Waiting for it.

25 June, 2010

Behind every woman is...her maid

"I'm nobody, Who are you?
Are you — Nobody, — too? 
Then there's a pair of us. "  
Emily Dickinson.
 
My day begins early. I'm up by 5 and ready to face the world by 6. On a school day, I wake up A, and then begins the routine of getting ready for school, cooking lunchboxes for her and the husband, getting breakfast ready. A has to be out of the house at 7.45 to catch the bus, so we try to sit down for breakfast by 7.30. Most days it is a race against time. Then, the storm suddenly ends, as both father and daughter head out, breakfast done, bags in hand. The husband sees A off in her bus, and goes on to his office.

Just as they head out, I go to the kitchen and put on water to boil for tea. Tea for two. The second cup is for Amma, without whom I never have the morning cuppa.

Now tea is something only I drink in the house. Amma was a coffee drinker before she started working at my house. Over the years, she has switched loyalties to tea. So much so that if she does not come to work for a day or more, she sorely misses it. So, as soon as my morning rushing around is done, I make that tea, pour a cup for each of us, and sit down for a peaceful few minutes. Amma sits by me with her cup and we have a few social moments.

After tea Amma begins her work and I sit down to browse online/read the paper/read a book I want to/just chill. Rarely do I have to oversee any of her work. After so many years, she knows the routine and goes about it impeccably even when I am not around. She knows where I keep everything, and when I need her to do, for eg. washing the balconies or removing the curtains for washing. On days when I am low or distracted for some reason, she senses it and works around me, comforting me with her very presence. She reminds me if I have something to be done that I have spoken to her of, in case I forget it. She literally frees me to do my own thing. I look forward to her coming in the morning, and I am somehow lost on days when she is not in for work. It is not just about the work. She is like a friend who just comforts you by being there.

Married at an early age, she was a mother at 18 and thrown out of her husband's house with her infant daughter. She went to stay with her mother and brother, who fully support her decision not to go back to her husband's house where she was abused, beaten and kept without sufficient food. She has since worked as a housemaid, and last week, her daughter started school. She wants to educate her enough so that she can stand on her own two feet. Her dream is of seeing her daughter 'work in an office or teach in a school.' She does not want her to be getting into the grind of early marriage, household drudgery and the ignominy of financial dependence. No, Ma'am.

Let me make it clear here that I have never had a full-time or live-in maid. Amma comes only for a few hours in the morning. She has been working at my house for the past four years. We have the tea in the morning and then breakfast together later. She toils so that I am free to pursue my interests. She is not just my maid, she is a member of the family in my mind, and is treated as one.

"Behind every successful man," it is said, "is a woman."
"Behind every woman...her maid"? Maybe so.

Emily Dickinson, the poetess I quoted at the beginning, owed a lot to her household help. I came across this article about a book written on her life by Aife Murray, 'MAID AS MUSE-How servants changed Emily Dickinson's life and language'
Published by New Hampshire publications.
Image: Courtesy Amazon.

An excerpt from the article:
The “invisible” kitchen was headquarters for people mostly lost from the public record—and it was her interactions with them that changed and helped define who Emily Dickinson was as a person and a poet.

Another article  about this book says:
"...Murray looks behind the "volume" of Dickinson's work to the lives of the women and men who made that amplification possible and who extended the poet's literary range and human sympathies. Aífe Murray's scholarly research reveals a meaningful relationship between the presence of servants and the volume and nature of Dickinson's literary work."

I would certainly credit Amma for the comfort I enjoy in terms of getting the daily chores off my back. And she goes about it with such affection and commitment. I can depend on her to take days off only if it is really necessary. The affection is amply returned, and in no small measure. I acknowledge my debt to her.

I love the poetry of Dickinson. She says it all for women, who, whatever anyone else may say, think differently from the other half of humanity. Here are some inspiring lines. I read them sometimes when the going gets tough.

"Hope" is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me

It would be treat for me to read this book. I shall be keeping an eye open for it.



  

10 June, 2010

More of my grandmother's songs.

What else do I remember of my grandmother's songs? As a response to Tulika books' Blogathon 4 I wrote a quickie post with a few songs that came to my mind immediately. It triggered off an avalanche of many such memorable songs from my childhood, and I would love to share those too. Mindful Meanderer reminded me of this one in her comments. Loosely translated, it speaks of the gold and silver jewellery worn by the baby and ends by putting a 'kala-tikka' on the baby to ward off the 'evil eye.'
Adgula madgula
Sonyacha kadbola
Rupyacha vala
Sonya bala
Teet lav

Sometimes when I got annoyed with my grandmother and went and sat in the corner- a self imposed timeout of sorts- she would sing
Rusu bai rusu
Annoyed little girl
Kopryat basu
Sitting in a corner
Tikdun ala___ (insert name of someone I liked)
Someone__ has come here
Khudkan hasu!
Suddenly you laugh!

Girls played a lot more with dolls in those days. OK, there was no Barbie (I'm talking about mid-70s to mid-80s. I suppose a childhood around that time makes me ancient. Never mind.) and no teddy bears to speak of. We had well-loved rag dolls, and would celebrate doll weddings if anyone among friends had a boy-doll. Hmmm...nostalgia. But I digress. Back to the topic at hand. This is a song we sang to our dolls. Now A, my daughter, has well-loved dolls, and this is one she loves.
Ya bai ya
Come O you girls
Bagha bagha kashi mazhi basali baya
See how my little one is sitting
Iku na yete
She cannot hear 
Bagha bagha kashi mazhi soni baghate
See how my lovely one looks at me.

All children are fascinated by the moon. We were too. My grandmother sang this one for us.
Chandoba chandoba bhagalas ka?
Moon, moon, are you tired?
Limbonichya zhadamage lapalas ka?
Why are you hiding behind the neem tree?
Limbonicha zhaad karavandi
The neem tree is heavy with fruit
Mamacha wada chirebandi
My mama's (maternal uncle) house is strong and big
Mamachya wadyat yeun ja
Come to my mama's house
Tooproti khaun ja
Eat ghee and roti
Toopat padli mashi
Oh! there is a fly in the ghee
Chandomama rahila upashi!
The moon has remained hungry!
This song was followed by a lot of gleeful clapping. Why we were amused by the moon remaining hungry is something my adult self does not understand.

The maternal uncle's home is associated with a lot of fun. Even while addressing the Mama, we say "Tu" which is different from the "Tumhi" used for the paternal uncle. Somehow the use of "Tu" is for someone who is emotionally closer. A song for going to the mama's house-
Zuk zuk zuk zuk ageen gaadi
Dhuranchya resha havet kadhi 
Palti zade pahuya
Mamachya gawala jauya
Mama motha talewar
Reshim gheyi hazar war
(something...something)
Mamachi bayako sugrana
Roj roj poli shikarana
Gulabjam khau ya
Mamachya gawala jauya
This song is about going to mama's house or "Ajol" as it is called in marathi. It sings the praises of the mama and of the mami's (aunt's) culinary skills. Shikarana poli is roti eaten with a mash of ripe banana with milk and sugar- a delicacy for a small child.

Then there were the songs we sang in the monsoon. Maharashtra is originally a region of farmers, and it is quite recently that it has become (in)famous for other things. This song invites the rains to come and promise it some money.(as bribe?) But the song tells us that the rain does not like the bribe and only comes down when the paisa is not a real one. The song is from those days when one paisa was a large amount. Juxtapose this with the "Rain rain go away", which is not from a primarily agrarian society.
Ye re Ye re pausa
Tula deto paisa
Paisa zala khota
Paus ala motha
Ye ga Ye ga sari
Mazhe madke bhari
Sar ali dhun
Madke gele vahun!

Then there was a game in which we ran amok- I forget the actual game- and sang
Dongrala aag lagli
Pala re pala
Something along the lines of 'Fire on the mountain.'

And the game we girls played along the lines of 'Oranges and lemons' And sang
Chincha limbu paishya paishyala
Shaletlya mooli alya kashala
Khaun khaun khokla zala
Mamachya wadyat chor shirla
And the 'chor' who was caught was out.

Then here is something all mumbaikars will recognise. It is something we say as the idols of Ganesha are immersed at the end of the festival.
Ganapati bappa morya
Pudhchya varshi lavakar ya
Ganapati challe gavala
Chain padena amhala

There are so many more I could go on and on. There were the prayers my grandmother taught me. We would come home in the evening at the time the lights would come on "Divelagani" in marathi. Then we would say the "Shubhang Karoti", "Ram-raksha" and other shlokas. These are too long and many to write about here. Maybe another post sometime. I try to teach A whatever I can. A lot of it has been eclipsed by other, more pressing things like homework and after-school classes, and so many other trappings of our current existence. I would like to thank Tulika books for triggering off this line of thought. And I would like to end the post with a favourite of my grandmother's, a verse by the celebrated marathi poetess who was born in 1880, Bahinabai Chaudhari who has written some very down-to-earth and heartfelt poetry.
Are Saunsaar saunsaar
Jasa Tawa Chulyhawar
Aadhi Hatala Chatake
Teva Milate Bhakar  

Loosely translated- The world is like a pan on the fire. Only if we can take the heat on our hand, can we get the bread-bhakar

28 May, 2010

Hanumanache (Hanuman's) Ramayan

We received our copy of "Hanuman's Ramayan" last week. Tulika books very generously sent me a copy in Marathi. It was won by me for (of all things!) counting right. The timing was such that I could ask the Tulika guys to inscribe them with a 'Happy Birthday' message to A. Which they were very kind enough to do, as well as address the envelope to her. We would have liked to sit down immediately with the book, but had a lot of other pressing matters at hand.  Now that they have been taken care of, here we are.


HANUMAN'S RAMAYAN
(or since we have a copy in Marathi, Hanumanache Ramayan)
Retold by Devdutt Pattnaik.
Pictures by Nancy Raj.
Translated into Marathi by Suniti Jain.
Ages: 8+

I told A that for this post she has to help me. She took it and sat a long time just looking through it. She was fascinated by the illustrations. "Aai, (mother in Marathi) this looks like the painting in our hall." She was right. The drawings were in Maithil/Madhubani style, a painting in which hung on our wall. So we had potential here.

A-speak on the drawings: "The pictures look very easy to draw. They are not drawn perfectly, like if there is an oval it is not a perfect oval but just looks like an oval. But they look very interesting and colourful, and somehow they look like 3-dimentional pictures. Like the Raavan's heads look just as if they are slightly one behind another. It looks as if some child has drawn all the lines inside the pictures."

She sat some more looking at the illustrations. I had read the text the day before, so I could point out the characters to her. "Aai, I think the people in the drawings have very interesting expressions. Narad looks like he is saying 'So what?' The rivers look very happy and Vayu looks very powerful. And the fire-god looks as if he is wondering what is happening."

On another page she said, "That river looks as if it is a conveyor belt. Just like at the airport? And the bird is picking up a fish from the conveyor belt. And how funny- both the sun and the moon are there. No, no. It is night here and day there. But how can it be like that on the same page?"  So I explained to her that there were footprints to be seen there, so the picture meant that Valmiki walked on his way all through the night and then through the day. Probably for many days before he reached the place where the banana trees were to be seen. 

On another page she liked the detailing where the "bird is looking surprised to see a drop of water fall from Valmiki's eyes. But why is he crying, Aai?" So I asked her to read the story.   

She sat down cross-legged, pencil in hand. Why a pencil, you may ask. That's what she does when faced with unfamiliar text. She approached the book in the way she tackles her Hindi/Kannada lessons. The earlier Tulika book that she had read, POND, was a breeze compared to this one. As she painstakingly read through it, she underlined the words she found difficult. The language was simple enough, and written in a way Marathi is spoken. Not stilted like in some other children's books I have encountered. But some words were very new to her. Marathi also has very hard consonants, and at places where the word involved a few 'jodaksharas' or conjoined consonants, she found it difficult to get her tongue around them. Or rather she found it difficult to pronounce from what she was reading. When I pronounced the word for her, she could repeat it easily enough. After a while, she started reading with more ease, although it did take her a good part of an hour to finish the book. Interspersed with finding the meanings of the 'difficult words' and discussing some sentences which she did not easily understand.
 
Some of these words she had already encountered in Hindi at school, so those were easy. At some places, like when we read "parjanyadev Indra," I could make use of some of the mythological stories she already knows-in this case the story of "govardhangiridhari Krishna" who helped the people of Gokul against the wrath of the god of rain Indra- to understand the reference.
 
As we read, even she was startled along with Valmiki when Hanuman ate up the leaves on which he had written his Ramayan. When we came to the last page, and she read it, I reminded her that I had once told her that the Ramayan is a mythological story supposedly written by Valmiki, a rishi, and that it probably is the memory of a similar story which might have actually happened in history. The story was in an oral form earlier, which was written down at some point of history. And when a story is told orally over many generations, it may be added to by the different storytellers, and might change from the original version, just like what happens in a game of chinese whispers. And different people might tell the same story in different ways, just like her father and I might tell the same bedtime story in different words. And many versions may be lost to us, just as Hanuman's version was lost when he ate up those leaves.
 
We enjoyed reading this book together. Thank you, Tulika books, for sending me a Marathi copy. As I have said in my post about my first language, some words defy translation, and I was glad to be able to read them to her in my mother-tongue.  

  

07 May, 2010

International Family Postcard Swap- And some history!

There was this wonderful idea put up by one of my favourite bloggers. An international poscard swap! I loved the idea, and I knew that A would enjoy it too.

One of her jobs at home is collecting the post from the box downstairs on her way up from playing in the evening. In these days of e-mail, text messages and instant communication, the only post we receive is bills, solicitations and store mail. On the rare occasion it is an invitation card for a wedding from a relative. All this post is addressed to me or my husband. A recently had an activity at school where they were introduced to the postal system, as part of letter writing and composition in their language class. Their teacher got postcards, and all the children wrote letters to their parents. Then they were all taken to the local post-office and the cards were duly posted. She did come and say that her teacher had asked for our postal address, but would not tell me why. There were many secret smiles and it was all very hush-hush. Then one day there was this card in the post in her handwriting saying how much she loved us both.:) It has been read and re-read and put away with her first attempts at writing and her baby photographs and all the cards she has made for my birthday and such-like.

Anyway, since she brings up the post everyday, she had a question. "Why doesn't anyone send me any letters?" Quite right! Even I would love it if anyone sends me a real letter in the post. Although one could argue why only a letter sent by snail-mail on paper would be categorised as real. Letters by e-mail are real enough. But there you are. Somehow letters in the post do seem more really real. Just like there are many who prefer reading a good book the old-fashioned way rather than read an e-book or use Kindle. I know I would. But I am digressing!

Getting back to the point, I loved the idea of an international postcard swap. On signing up, we would be sent addresses of five families from anywhere around the world, to whom we had to send our cards. similarly, five other families would get our address, and would write to us. That made for 10 families whom we could connect with. It was a made-to-order-activity for us. When I told A about it, she was thrilled. We signed up for it, and soon received the addresses to which we were to send cards. We went to the post-office and got the cards. All the while, A was chattering (that's the only word for it!) away about all that she would like to write about.

When she actually sat down to it, she realised that the card did not have enough space for everything we would like to share. So we had this brilliant idea of writing on the card but also using some notepaper, and putting it all into an envelope. She also wanted to do some artwork. I was not sure that that was how we were supposed to go about it, so I immediately mailed to Zoe who was holding the swap, and she immediately came back with a thumbs-up. So A did some artwork on the empty half on the address side and wrote her stuff on the blank side. She very diligently addressed her letter to the children listed under each address telling them about herself.

I got some handmade recycled paper (We are trying to reduce our carbon footprint--trying is the operative word because we do not always succeed in our endeavour!) with a very "Indian" motif on it and wrote to the ladies I was to write to. We also got them small handmade items that can go into the envelopes. We put one into each envelope, sealed them wrote the addresses on top and there they were! Ready for posting!

The whole excercise made me reflect on our postal system, its history. India was an amalgamation of various kingdoms, whose boundaries kept changing throughout history. The whole was known as Bharatvarsh, and India as we know it today is a legacy of the British rule. In fact the present railway system and postal system are two of the contributions of the British. Prior to that, messages were sent by hand, by runners or on horseback. These were known as the "doots" and were protected across different kingdoms by the then prevalent version of "diplomatic immunity."

The Indian epics the Ramayana and the Mahabharata ( which is said to be 8 times the length of the Illiad and Odyssey combined) have their very famous "doots" or messengers Hanuman and Angad (Ramayana) and Krishna (Mahabharata). Then there was the very romantic Meghduuta by Kalidas, written in the 4th-5th centuries AD, in which the protagonist beseeches a meghadoot ( cloud messenger) to play postman between him and his beloved wife, who is at that time far away in their hometown while he has to do his duty as a soldier in the mountains. Indian literature is rich with many such stories and references. Rabindranath Tagore, the poet and writer who had been awarded the Nobel Prize for literature in 1913, who had been knighted by the British monarch, and who had subsequently given up the knighthood as a member of India's struggle for freedom, has penned this beautiful poem about a child who is sensitive to it's mother's longing for a letter from her husband who is away for his work.

The Wicked Postman by Rabindranath Tagore
Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me, mother dear?
The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all wet, and you don't mind it.
Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother to come home from school.
What has happened to you that you look so strange?
Haven't you got a letter from father today?
I saw the postman bringing letters in his bag for almost everybody in the town.
Only father's letters he keeps to read himself.
I am sure the postman is a wicked man.
But don't be unhappy about that, mother dear.
Tomorrow is market day in the next village.
You ask your maid to buy some pens and papers.
I myself will write all father's letters; you will not find a single mistake.
I shall write from A right up to K.
But, mother, why do you smile?
You don't believe that I can write as nicely as father does!
But I shall rule my paper carefully, and write all the letters beautifully big.
When I finish my writing do you think I shall be so foolish as father and drop it into the horrid postman's bag?
I shall bring it to you myself without waiting, and letter by letter help you to read my writing.
I know the postman does not like to give you the really nice letters.

Today is a different era. It is all about instant communication. And yet, aren't we human beings just the same? We are better connected today, yet so far from our loved ones in so many different ways. The longing for communication is just the same. And it will be so to the end of the human race. After all, one of the greatest achievements of human beings, language and speech, came about because of a need to communicate, and communicate more efficiently, more elegantly. After all, that is what we have gained as a pay-off for the fact that only human beings can choke. One of the cruel twists of evolution.

A was very excited about the whole swap thing. She has been talking to her friends at school about it. I have been speaking to my friends about it. Many of them came to know about it too late to participate. But they hope there will be a next time when they can. The "real" letters evoke nostalgia. We will post our letters and wait for the ones that five other families will send us. I hope will be significantly adding to our cache of friends.