The Counsel Of Strangers

Author: Gouri Dange
Pages:169
Price: 250
Publishers: OMO



Pune, which cannot yet boast of any English-language writer of repute, might just be on the threshold of getting one. Gouri Dange, who many in the city know as a witty columnist and counsellor, makes an assured second splash into the pool of Indian fiction with the launch of her new book, The Counsel Of Strangers. I will admit I was overall underwhelmed with her debut effort, 3 Zakia Mansion - a dark portrait of a Muslim woman and a long-drawn struggle with her nasty in-laws. I found it morose and melodramatic, even though I was blown by the emotional power in the third act of the book. Nevertheless, it clearly established the author's proficiency with her craft and language. And with The Counsel Of Strangers, she opts for a less tricky subject than 3 Zakia Mansion. The Counsel Of Strangers is really a book of short stories (more on that later). But the result is far more promising and overall, this makes for a thoroughly riveting read.

The book is about six distressed strangers, who dawdle away from a wedding that is taking place at a resort, to spend some private moments with themselves.
Each one is going through a transitional phase and looking for solutions. The darkness and the comfort of strangers allows them to talk about their lives. The first story is about a 60 plus retired man, who is spending time with his daughter and son-in-law in California. He's not unhappy, but there is a sense of loneliness creeping in. "You'll know when you get there... that uncomfortable feeling of being treated dutifully, but with little interest," he says. He meets a smart, 50 year old woman with whom he establishes a friendly, warm relationship. She is separated from her husband, he is widowed. When they speak to their respective children about this 'special person' , they are appalled and disgusted. This story, along with almost all the other ones, point towards the 'pigeon-holing' of people into specific roles and expectations.

The second story is about a young boy, Karthik, whose life gets greatly altered after his parents go through a bad experience on account of his elder brother, Vishwas. Karthik is tired of living a censored life, with his paranoid family watching out minutely for any tell-tale signs of 'weirdness' in his behaviour. A bit long-drawn story, but engaging nevertheless.

My absolutely favourite story is Anandi-Mohini. Personal and revelatory, it intimately tracks the journey of a strong-minded woman, as she comes to terms with the breakdown of her 14 year old marriage. That follows another unwittingly funny episode involving a prospective husband. There is plenty of pathos in the story, and it's clear that much of it is very close to the author's heart. But the story also sparkles with charm and ironic wit, because after the initial shock and sadness, the character is able to see her situation with bemused detachment and the ludicrousness of it all.

There's an especially telling part where she describes the aftermath of her divorce. Her friends – well-meaning and otherwise - come up with various reasons on why the marriage failed. For a while, her self-esteem suffers, until she sees the absurdity. “And these are just some of the many theories of friends and passing strangers as they drove gaping, slowly, past the accident site of our marriage. It takes a while for you to gain the wisdom to discount all of this as their projections of their reality, and not your truth at all.”

The other really wonderful story is of a Christian nurse, who wants to give up her profession after serving patients and looking after sick bodies for years. Now a plump, middle-aged woman, she wants to go back to her home-town in Kerala and live with her family. But here too, she is expected to take on the role of the nurturer.

The last story is about a professor mother who finds it embarrassing that her only son should get into Bollywood script-writing after studying at Haward. Her intellectual snobbery, as others call it, prevents her from accepting her son's choice of career.

The stories are all very readable, and even when some of the situations give a sense of deja vu, the author's quirky narration, keeps you engaged. I personally enjoyed the story of the nurse and Anandi-Mohini the most, but Gouri brings her sensitivity and sharp understanding of human nature to every situation and character. The book - through its characters - suggests how life is in a constant state of flux and in spite of its corrosive nature, holds the seeds of regeneration and hope.

There's something to be said about the style and tone of the narrative. The word 'contemporary' is generally bandied around too much. But The Counsel of Strangers is genuinely 'today's book' and talks to 'today's people' - and by that I don't mean the new generation only. The book covers stories of people from various age groups (thank god!), and the scenarios and concerns are all relevant and relatable. The words she uses (free use of all Indian languages, short forms, blog terminologies... ), the clever phrases, the references to films and books - all bring a chuckle and a nod of familiarity. In that sense, the book gains tremendously from having such a receptive writer.

Criticisms? I couldn't buy for a minute people confiding such personal stories before strangers. The author inserts a few sentences about a beer being passed or food being ordered in between each story, so as to keep reminding the reader that there is a common setting, but it appears too forced. Also, earlier there was Chitra Divakaruni's One Amazing Thing, where the characters get stuck in a building after a terrible earthquake and reveal stories about their lives to temporarily forget about their impending fates. I found that setting eked together with as much awkwardness. This template obviously comes from Canterbury Tales, but the vital difference is that in Chaucer's 14th century book of verses, the characters are traveling companions who are asked to tell a story - any story. It could be about their lives, but there's no way to know. Now, that is more plausible situation I would think.
In The Counsel Of Strangers, there characters could well be contemplating about their lives at the airport lounge and it wouldn't have mattered.

The other niggling problem I found is that the authorial voice is quite strong here, in the sense that the author's penchant for irreverence and sharp wit shadows every character and situation, expect maybe that of the Nurse. And this feeling is heightened because every character narrates in first person. While this ensures that the whole book is kept interesting, it hurts the characterisation. Gouri Dange beautifully inhabits the minds of a few characters, but the result is slightly awkward in the case of the old man, where it appears like the author is speaking on his behalf.

Yet, The Counsel Of Strangers works wonderfully enough for what it is. It sparkles with insight and intelligence and makes for a very entertaining read. The book abounds in such original and piquant metaphors, and the writing in general is so adept, it should comfortably establish Gouri Dange among the A-list Indian authors in the country.

-Sandhya Iyer

PS: The full form for 'OMO books' under which Gouri has published The Counsel Of Strangers, is 'On My Own' The author chose to self-publish after being distressed with the 'step-motherly' treatment accorded to lesser-known authors by major punblishing houses. Hence the wry and clever name - OMO!

Balancing Act by Meera Godbole Krishnamurthy

Author: Meera Goldbole Krishnamurthy
Pages: 236
Publishers: Zubaan, Penguin
Price: 250




Motherhood is easily one of the most beautiful and transformational experiences for a woman. Everything else takes a backseat as she lets herself be consumed by its infinite pains and pleasures. Her career, which perhaps defined her identity and image until then, suddenly seems like a lame reason to step out and leave one's gurgling, stumbling bundle of joy. Every idea of feminism and self-identity is submerged under the deep sea of love that flows from her heart, as the life-giving, nurturer in her takes over completely.

Balancing Act captures this deep bond that a young mother forms with her two tiny tots. She's a harried but happy mother, who glows around the sacred and smug circle of her domestic life. Changing diapers, tucking in the kids in their beds with comforters, making star-shaped pastas and filling up juices in their fancy water-bottles , painting glittering nail polish on their tiny feet, playing with toy cars - it's a never-ending cycle of duties, which she performs with sacrosanct diligence and delight.

She feels privileged to be a mother. To an outsider, Tara Mistri touching 40 has a comfortable life, where she's a stay-at-home mom, with a supportive husband, Roshan who earns well, and travels often. Yet, she's disturbed when she sees herself being referred to as a 'housewife' at socials dos. People are baffled to learn that she does not work inspite of her high educational qualifications and professional achievements. She rues the fact that motherhood is no more a justifiable reason to stay at home, not just in America -where she lives - but even among her friends and relatives in India. Having been out of touch with the professional world for long, she feels constantly on the edge. Unsure and confused, Tara feels she may have been more suited to her grandma's times where it was natural for women to do nothing besides raising up children and minding the home. In today's changed times, when motherhood is just one of the different wonder caps that a woman dons, suddenly she seems like a mis-fit and traditionalist.

Tara had studied architecture and is deeply influenced by the thoughts of Louis Kahn, who built the Salk Institute for Biological Research in California. She stays at a stone's throw from the place, and sub-consciously wants to replicate the same perfection of the structure in her own life. Tara's pet peeve is a spirit Yakshi – her alter ego – who keeps prodding her to get back to work. Tara sends her resume to a few firms and even attends a couple of interviews. This is more to assure herself that she still has what it takes to make the cut than anything else. To add to her trouble, her attractive bachlorette friend Sophie comes to stay with them. Tara's hubby is drawn to her and finds in her happy demeanor a welcome contrast to his own wife.

All these mental conflicts that the protagonist suffers touch a realistic chord. However, the parts involving Tara and her husband seem superficially tackled. The episode related to her hubby getting drawn to Sophie does say something about the plight of neglected husbands, as mothers get preoccupied with kids. But this too isn't treated with any particular depth and the scene where Tara confronts her friend at the dining table, 'What are you doing with my husband@" seems overly dramatic and awkward given the otherwise subtle and fairly nuanced tone of the book.

Tara - as protagonist is not a very likable personality – as is the case with most women who turn motherhood into an obsession. In the end, there are no definite solutions because the issues are vague and complex. The only thing that the novel perhaps suggests is that a perfect balance can never really be achieved and it need not become a cause for so much heartburn. Each phase can be enjoyed for what it is.

Meera's writing is lyrical, artistic and quirky. The world she creates is so vivid, you can almost smell the baby powders, lotions and milk. The use of architectural terms in the novel - with many quotes and theories – adds much novelty to the narrative as well.

All round a good debut that succeeds without trying too hard.


-Sandhya Iyer


Interview:

1) Were you always interested in writing, or did you take it up because you wanted to express your thoughts on something that was close to your heart?

Architecture, painting, sculpture, making quilts, writing -- all these creative arts which I have explored have a common language with many overlaps. I have always loved books and the places they can take you. Over the years, I found myself interested more in the theory and critique of architecture than the practice of it. That being said, I don’t think you can become a writer (or anything, for that matter) overnight, to paraphrase one of Louis Kahn's architectural teachings. Before embarking on this journey, I participated in several writing programs and workshops at UC San Diego, Stanford, and the University of Iowa. Each medium has it's own specific art and craft, but I hope that some of my artistic sensibilities have crept into my writing, which was the vehicle for this particular story.

2) I'm sure most people have asked you this. How autobiographical is the book, and what parts of it do you relate to most?

Tara and I have many similarities, it's true. We’re both architects, have two children, and are married to husbands with demanding careers – but so are many women out there. The details may differ, but in spirit, our stories would be the same. I think one always starts with what one knows, but the beauty of fiction is that it can transcend the personal to become universal. Fiction is most convincing when it could be real, even though it is not. There is always a danger though, in assuming that a first work is more autobiographical than it really is! I relate to all my characters and all their dilemmas, because to write fiction, you need to inhabit it in such a way that it becomes real to you and consequently, to the reader as well.

3) Given that you are a mother, how difficult was it to take time off and put together the book. How long did it take you?

I started writing this book as a series of vignettes nearly ten years ago when my own children were very young and I had short, staccato time spans in which to write. Over the years, there were innumerable drafts and many formats that I discarded, adapted, and re-worked. The book took this form only when the idea of using the Salk Institute and the life and work of Louis Kahn as the structure for the novel came to me after a critique at the La Jolla Writer's Conference in 2004. And when the Yakshi showed up from the netherworld to question Tara’s every move, I knew we were in for a good ride!
When the children were older, for two years in San Diego, I set myself a strict writing schedule, Monday to Friday 9 am to 2:45 pm when I would stop to go pick them up from school. That was when I completed the first draft of the manuscript. And then there were always the late nights, when I work best...fortunately, I'm not much of a sleeper! The much harder part was finding the psychic space in which Tara and her world would exist. That's the toughest part about writing fiction - to be able to remove yourself from this world to bring to life another - without constant interruptions.

4) Her act of making bricks and writing words on it and leaving at differen doorsteps and random places is perhaps her own way of igniting a silent revolution for in the interest of women like her. Was this a literal act by Tara where she drops off the bricks or was it in her mind? And what kind of bricks are these? i'm sorry if I missed out some reference...

Louis Kahn asked the seminal question, “What do you want be, brick?” He was suggesting that in order to respect the true nature of a material, you must use it so that it retains its individuality but expresses its essence. For example, you would not use bricks in the same way as you would use concrete. Similarly, Tara is trying to define her true nature, separate from what society or feminism or her friends tell her, and I thought it would be interesting to take that literally, but also to an extreme level by giving her a darker side and having her engage in a social experiment where she challenges the politically acceptable and speaks for the unspoken through her known medium, the vocabulary of architecture.
And bricks are such potent symbols anyway: they build, they can destroy, and bricks, if they are Legos, almost define childhood, don’t they? So the metaphor of the brick was the perfect vehicle for building, designing, and addressing the question of Tara "rebuilding" herself. Just as architecture needs to be in the public realm, motherhood too is a part of the social fabric. So Tara had to make her statements, to practice her personal architecture, so to speak, in the public realm.

5) Most women find it tough to pursue careers for a few years after child--birth. But sooner than later, they want to get back to work. Things are seldom easy for them when they want to make a comeback. They seem to come with a 'baggage' which the professional world does not view kindly. Not many women have the luxury of family support or servants. How do you think this uneasy equation can be better dealt with, if at all?

You are absolutely right about this perception of the "baggage" of motherhood in the professional world. I believe that motherhood is and always has been a joyful act, a creative and large journey, which is not to say that it is without frustrations, of course, but we seem afraid these days to speak of the joys. May be because motherhood – and by extension, the “housewife” – has acquired such negative connotations, been devalued and degraded as the lesser choice. We feminist-mothers, what I call the “femimoms,” need to reclaim the unabashed and unapologetic nature of motherhood. I think if we embrace motherhood as another equally vital part of being a woman, it may help to balance the equation with a career a little more easily. That being said, I am not really sure a true balance is possible, because in every choice, something is gained, but always, something is lost. You really cannot have it all, that's how life is. So the title Balancing Act then, can be parsed many ways. The balance could just be an act.

6) You have pointed at how women tend to neglect husbands once the children come into the picture... but the other truth is also that husbands do not take on too many responsibilites towards raising children - which is one of the reasons women feel burdened tremendously. So while women perform all their traditional duties of child rairing etc, they are also expected to be 'wonder women' where they must ideally juggle a job efficiently etc.

Tara feels guilty to step out even for a little while, she feels grateful to be accepted back in the 'sacred circle' . While you correctly point out the feeling of guilt a mother faces, as an author - I got the feeling- that you were stacking up the odds against your protagonist and not giving her much respite. This, along with her husband getting attracted to her friend.....doesn't this reinforce stereotypes, and the inhuman levels of perfection expected from mothers?

Many things that happen in Tara's life are of that particular moment in time, born of that phase of her life. There is that first year just after a child is born where husbands do tend to get a bit neglected, because caring for an infant is so "here and now". But things change again after the child is weaned and again when they go to school and so on. All human relationships are constantly evolving, dynamic. You are right that in the story, though Roshan is well intentioned, he does not really take on the burdens of parenting and in that sense that is very much the core of the modern dilemma -- there's no "villain, as such. While men today are so much more sensitive and attuned to the family than their fathers or grandfathers were, it is still the women who bear the primary responsibility of caring for the home and family (be it children or the elderly). It seems to me that this is reality and it's not about stereotypes, it's just representing what's reality for most families out there, whether in the US or India or almost anywhere. Perhaps this expectation that mothers be superhuman has always been there, but it certainly seems more angst inducing in a generation where women have the choice to choose which way to direct their lives. I sometimes wonder what Tara is going to do a few years from where we leave her in the book!

7) What's coming up next for you? Was this book easiler because it appears to be semi-autobiographical? Do you see yourself writing on other themes as well, since you are obviously a gifted writer?

Thank you for the kind words. As a writer, it is gratifying to know that you have connected with a reader. This book took me either nine years or four years to write, depending on which way you count it. And either way, that's a long time! In fact, this was a very difficult one to write I think, partly because it was the first and also because it took a long time to do adequate research on the life and words of Louis Kahn and make the fact and fiction all fit together in the structure of the story. But the learning curve on writing and publishing a novel is a steep one and I expect (hope!) that the next one will not take as long. There are so many more stories to be told. I am working on my next novel now, which is quite different in terms of story and theme, but will still be rooted in architecture, which I find is a deep and rich territory for understanding much else in life.

My Name Is Gauhar Jaan: the life and times of a musician

Author: Vikram Sampath
Pages: 232
Price: 595
Publishers: Rupa



To begin with, you're not sure what to expect from a book about a songstress of a bygone era one has never even heard of. Also, the backdrop about North Indian classical music and the birth of the gramophone make it appear that it could perhaps be of more interest to music aficionados. To a layman, it could seem quite technical and dull. How wrong I was, because Vikram Sampath's new book is not just a fabulously engaging story about a singer who became the first gramophone superstar of the country, it also gives an exhaustive and thoroughly fascinating account of the times in which she lived.

Gauhar's antecedents were not the most usual. She was born (1873) to an Armenian father and an Indian mother. A misunderstanding leads to their divorce, after which her mother marries a Muslim man and assumes the name of Badi Malka Jaan and becomes a singer and poetess of repute herself. Gauhar's grandmother had married a British man. Since the book travels through these different time periods, one gets an account of early British life in India and their equation with the natives. I was fascinated to know about the 'biwi khana' . This was a time when not many English women made the long and torturous journey to India. This obviously was a problem for the British settlers because it affected their domestic lives severly. So they married native Indian women or took them in as mistresses and their union existed as long as the officers stayed back in India. The woman lived in the lady-house (biwi-khana) that was in the same compound, separate from the main bungalow. This worked out well for both the native women and the officers. However, once the steam ships became more frequent, European women started coming to India in larger numbers in search of eligible husbands. These ships were called 'Fishing fleet'. Those girls who couldn't find a match would go back to England and ships carrying them were termed as 'Returning empties'

The book is full of such interesting period details. All the while, the historical and cultural context of the time is closely allied to Gauhar's story. Since Gauhar's mother - Malka- is a talented singer, her husband encourages her to sing publically. In those days, women could take up singing at mehfils etc only by turning courtesans, which incidentally was an accepted practice. It was still not the most respectable of vocations, but it was not really frowned upon either. Women in the mainstream were not allowed to sing and dance. By contrast, courtesans (not to be confused with common prostitutes) were a highly literate lot, artistically trained and culturally groomed. Gauhar's gorgeously plaint voice instantly found admirers, when she sang as a young girl along with her mother. She was an undisputed favourite with various Nawabs and maharajas who besieged her to sing at their courts and showered her with gifts and money.

Using the factual and anecdotal information at hand, Sampath weaves together a captivating story about Gauhar's luminous ascent as the queen of thumri and khayal and her unexpected tragic end. The narrative is dotted with interesting episodes that give a vivid sense of Gauhar's personality. She was outrageously extravagant in her spending habits (she's known to have thrown parties worth 20000 in those days to arrange a marriage between her cats! She would go for joyrides on the roads of Calcutta in a six-horse carriage...). She was also rather impulsive and prone to temper tantrums, leading to a tumultous personal life. She never married, but had short-term relationships with a few men, which mostly ended in pain and frustration.

Gauhar's life would perhaps have not been very different from say, Umrao Jaan's (another famous tawaif), had it not been for her definitive contribution to the success of the gramophone in India. Hers was among the first Indian voices to be recorded and heard on the gramophone when the instrument came to the country via first recording expert to India, William Gaisberg in 1901-02. Gauhar took to singing on this ‘horn-like’ machine like she was born for it. Gaisberg writes in glowing terms about her immaculate dress sense, beauty and poise in his book.

The popularity of the gramophone was really a god-send for Gauhar in many ways. Though courtesans were a sought-after group of alluring and cultured women, the profession was slowing starting to gain disrepute after the anti-nautch campaign. Later of course, the whole musical legacy of courtesans was attempted to be systematically white-washed and cleaned by self-appointed custodians of classical music. While the tawaifs suffered in the North, the devdasis met with the same fate in the South.

In the book, Gauhar comes across as a very feisty and original character, who never shied away from trying anything new. The male singers were jealous of their female counterparts (courtesans) who were more in demand for gramophone recordings. They spread vile rumours that the gramophone was ‘evil’ and ruins one's voice. But Gauhar dismissed these ideas and in fact moulded her singing (she compressed khayal into 3 minutes, which was the original time limit of the disc) as per requirements.
This was an important development, because the gramophone in many ways 'democratised' music. Suddenly, music that was hitherto only accessible to the rich zamindars and royal courts became available to the common man.

The book closely follows the life of Gauhar, but it also manages to give the reader a comprehensive idea about the developments that took place in field of Hindustani classical music. There are some pages dedicated to the evolution of thumri, khayal etc, which I can confidently state will not put off any reader, even if it might appear technical. They in fact tickle ones interest to know more about the various genres of classical music.
Gauhar's life takes a turn for the worse once she gets entangled in a few long-drawn legal battles. One might perhaps find her downfall from the heights of glory to be a bit too sudden. But it certainly seems plausible, given Gauhar's high-strung nature and unplanned life-style. She was reduced to penury in the last days of her life, and died a sad, lonely woman.

Gauhar was the brightest star of her times, and the fact that she traveled a great deal – from Benaras to Lucknow and from Calcutta to Mumbai to Mysore – enabled her to learn from various gharanas, making her one of the impressive and illustrious singers of pre-Independence India. Sadly, she remains a pale shadow in the alleys of Hindustani classical music. Which is why author Vikram Sampath’s endevour is a very welcome and a noble one. The fact that Gauhar’s life and her personality are interesting by themselves enable Sampath to etch out a rich and colourful narrative out of it.

Sampath keeps the language simple and lucid, but elegant enough. It’s some triumph for the writer that in spite of the pages packing in so many details, you never feel lost in the course of reading. The author - through his meticulous research and delightful anecdotes – manages to effortlessly transport you to those glorious times.
Seeing how successfully the author brings Gauhar Jaan’s life to the fore, makes you wonder about the enormous potential for non-fiction writing and how there are so many real-life stories waiting to be told.

PS: Most chapters begin with an Urdu couplet at the top. Some of them have been taken from Gauhar Jaan's mother -Malka's book of poems. Many of these couplets are splendid, but the English translation is not upto the mark at all

PPS: The book also contains a CD with some of Gauhar's earliest recordings where she flirtatiously announces 'My name is Gauhar Jaan' at the end of each of her songs.

-Sandhya Iyer


Interview: Vikram Sampath

Vikram Sampath's new book, My Name Is Gauhar Jaan, is a rivetting read about a courtesan, who was also India's first gramophone superstar. Sandhya Iyer caught up with the author at a recent reading session of the book in Pune



It was while researching for his first book, Royal Splendours of Mysore, in the musty but meticulously maintained library of the Mysore Palace, that the name Gauhar Jaan first came to the attention of author Vikram Sampath. The young writer was intrigued looking at the numerous correspondences Gauhar had made in the last years of her life while staying as a guest of the Wodeyar rulers in Mysore. "The uncanniness to Umrao Jaan struck me. Gauhar was an ageing diva in Mysore, and earlier was the first gramophone celebrity of India. She was extremely wealthy in her hey days but her last letters showed her complaining about her meagre salary of 500 a month, where she was asking the palace for tax exemptions. So I was curious to know what prompted her to leave everything in Calcutta and come to Mysore," narrates Sampath.



Sampath says there were some difficulties in the course of the research. The word of artists in those days was rarely documented, as art was always considered superior to the performer. "Most of the information I got was anecdotal and the word-of-mouth variety. The problem with such oral tradition is that a lot of mumbo-jumbo gets into it, and one is left with very little real information. So I would be told superfluous stuff like how Gauhar was as fair as milk and when she chewed paan, one could see the colour in her throat etc," he says imitating in Hindi.

Besides meeting several people who directly and indirectly could provide him details of Gauhar's life, he mostly relied on the official correspondences (legal and other personal letters) to piece together her life. He had a tough time finding her recorded discs, but ultimately found them in a chor bazaar for which he paid a princely amount, he tells us. Sampath himself is trained in carnatic classical music, and didn't have much knowledge about Hindustani classical, for which he needed to educate himself.
While the research lasted for three years, it took him just 15 days to write the 232 page book. "Once I had the material in place, I started writing in one great flow. It was like an energy that I had stored which I had to get out of me," he says.

In the end, the book is all facts, says Sampath. This naturally points towards the enormous potential of non-fiction. "Oh yes, there are stories in every pocket of the country that are waiting to be told," he says.

Though both of his books have been very well-received, Sampath still continues his full-time job as a finance guy in Bangalore, where he is based. "Ideally, I would just like to write," he says. Given what a fine book he has come up with, we sincerely hope so too.

Kaifi & I - Review

Author: Shaukat Azmi (translated by Nasreen Rehman)
Pages: 158
Publishers: Zubaan
Price: Rs 295



Kaifi & I is a memoir by Shaukat Azmi that brings alive the momentous times and life of illustrious poet and lyricist, Kaifi Azmi, the man with whom she spent over half a century.

While her own personal journey makes for a compelling read, the book's greater achievement is that it nimbly blends together the personal with the political. So even though it is a love story at the core, it is also a wonderful documentation of many other things; like the communist movement which Kaifi was an active part of; the glorious legacy of the still thriving Prithvi theatre; the Progressive Writers Association, which believed that artistes could bring about change in society with the power of their art.

Shaukat's description of her early childhood life is delightful. These parts offer a rich and colourful portrait of Hyderabadi affluence in pre-Independence times, where the elites and upper middle class families revelled in their lavish lifestyles. The girls - always careful to be decorous and immaculately turned out - pampered themselves with beauty treatments all day. Again, the cuisine was elaborate, with the choicest of lip-smacking delicacies laid out. Shaukat pens down these portions with great nostalgic gusto. Nasreen Rehman, who translated the book into English, has retained many of the original Urdu words in the text, so that one gets a perfect sense of the elegance and exquisiteness that permeated this world.

"Surrounded by the fragrance of kevra, khas and agar, and radiant in their colourful khara dupattas, Hyderabadi girls were like creatures from a fairytale world - and I delighted in being one of them."

While one part of Hyderabad were wealthy and comfortable, the majority was poor and oppressed. Shaukat notes that this could be the first seeds sown towards the Telangana movement.

Vivacious and graceful, it is love at first sight for young Shukat when she meets Kaifi Azmi, an emerging poet and member of the communist movement, at a mushaira (poetry session). The fact that Kaifi is bold enough to recite a poem about monarchy and injustice in the Nizam land impresses Shaukat no end. She's also utterly charmed by his handsome looks. Kaifi too reciprocates to Shaukat's alluring good-looks, and soon they are headlong in love. The family objects, and is not keep to allow her to marry a struggling artist. But seeing her despondent state, Shaukat's father takes her to Kaifi's home in Bombay to judge for herself whether she wants a life of hardship without regular income. Shaukat takes the plunge and what follows is a bitter-sweet journey of little joys, hopes and disappointments.



The couple is always short of money, as per Shaukat, and it is not until Kaifi's last few years before he died in 2002 that they lived in relative style in his native village in UP. Earlier, to suppliment the family income, Shaukat joined the Prithvi theatre, run by the legendary Prithviraj Kapoor, referred as 'Papaji', who she describes as a great man, wonderfully accommodating and generous.
She also recounts with vididness and warmth the years she spend at the Commune (where Kaifi and all the comrades stayed) in Bombay, a humble but picturesque residence.

It's rather amusing how Shaukat introduces her elder celebrity daughter in the book. "At a quarter to three, on the morning of 18 September, Madam Shabana arrived" She describes Shabana as a bright girl, very hyper-sensitive. It seems Shabana was convinced her mother loved her younger brother Baba more and tried to poison herself as a kid!
The final chapters where Shaukat and Kaifi go back to the latter's native village, Mijwan is another high-point in the book.



There's a certain provincial naivete to all of Shaukat's descriptions. All through the book Kaifi comes across as a soft-spoken and compassionate person, and Shaukat treats her artist-husband with tender affection referring to him as 'the poor darling' etc Yet, as a reader, you don't get a definite sense of the relationship they shared nor does Shaukat go into too many details of their marital life. Apart from their financial troubles, she stresses that they had a very satisfying conjugal union.
One sore point is that all of Kaifi's poems recounted in the book have been translated in English. It would have been nice to see some of the original Urdu verses, along with the meanings in English.

Yet, for its various anecdotes and rich period details, Kaifi & I is a highly readable book. Moreover, it is evocative of a time of artistic excellence, and conscientious commitment to society.

- Sandhya Iyer

William Dalrymple's Nine Lives

Author: William Dalrymple
Pages: 260
Genre: Travelogue


Nine Lives: in search of the sacred in modern India

One knows William Dalrymple as a highly accomplished writer of travelogues and historical non-fiction. Over the past two decades, the author in his passionate quest to understand and explore Indian society, culture and history has given us some very fine works like The White Mughals, The City Of Djinns and The Last Mughal. Even his other books, In Xanadu and From the Holy Mountain that plunge into the discovery of other continents and people, have been equally acclaimed. What comes through is Dalrymple's immense love for travel and culture, and all this he puts together with utmost care, evident in his impeccable writing style, elegant covers and pretty illustrations which he does in collaboration with his talented wife Olivia.

With Nine Lives that was published last year (2009), Dalrymple travels through the length and breadth of the country to find the last remnants of mystic India. Given that westerners have always imagined ours to be a land of sadhus and snake charmers, it would be easy to conclude that Nine Lives is perhaps primarily an attempt at selling exotica.
Then again, religion today is seen as such a dangerous entity and divisive force that Dalrymple's preoccupation with the 'religious' in modern India can itself seem as something of an indulgence.

I took up the book with all these doubts whirling around my head. But having read it, one has to say that Nine Lives proves to be a thoroughly immersive journey. And this isn't a book about India just for the curious western reader but for many of us living in the cities as well. In fact, each story here could make for an excellent documentary film.

The book looks into the lives of nine people, living at the farthest corners of religious ecstasy. It explores various cults and sects, their rituals and practices. Importantly, it tries to understand the essence of each of these faiths and how they continue to persist amidst the country's fast changing landscape. You are acquainted with the rigourous lives led by Jain monks, with their belief in complete renunciation through the first story, The Nun's Tale. The Red Fairy is both an enchanting and telling exploration into the world of Sufis
(of Sindh) and the wonderfully syncretic nature of their faith, surviving under the threat of Talibanised Islam. The Singer of Epics brings forth the world of Pabuji worshipers and the bhopas who have been singing the epic of Pabuji (replete with tales of heroism, honour and struggle) for centuries now. The chapter also extends its concerns to the disappearing form of oral tradition throughout the world.
The Dancer of Kannur tracks the unusual lives of 'Theyyam' performers in Kannur (Kerala), where they become God-incarnate -- possessed by the deity -- while performing at temples. But it is only for the duration of the theyyam season when they are respected and worshipped. Once it's done, these men go back to their low paying manual jobs for the rest of the year. Dalrymple punctuates this chapter with rich episodes from history, folk and mythology. And as is the case with all the stories in the book where the social context plays an important role in the formation of a faith, the 'theyyam' form was a reaction against Kerala's oppressive, and rigid cast system. Many of the theyyam stories mock the Brahmins and Nayyars and criticise them for the way they treat their fellow human beings. According the theyyam performers, their practice has brought about a great change in the way lower castes are perceived and now the atrocities, they say, have greatly reduced.

Among the other stories that equally captivate you include the 'Bauls from Bengal' - the mad men who dismiss societal conventions; the 'devdasis' - once a royal tradition, now fallen from grace; the idol makers of Chola tradition - who try not to get sexually aroused by the alluring goddesses which they create.

Dalrymple is a compassionate narrator who puts the stories of the respective individuals at the forefront, while he himself remains at the background. This not only inverts the travelogue form (where the focus is always on the narrator), it also adds an element of fictional interest in each of the stories. The author seldom asserts himself strongly or questions anyone's faith. But the irony is sharp and
self-evident in each of the episodes.

Most of the faiths followed by these men and women are a reaction to the unrelenting and rigid nature of mainstream society, which pushes to the fringes those who don't fall in line with its conventions. Which is why most of these faiths speak the language of acceptance, humanity and love.

The book also points at the winds of modernity that are threatening to wipe out many of these faiths. Most of these practices are hereditary and the new generation is not interested in following their parent's vocation.
Nine Lives is about mystical India - about transcendental religion and ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances. If the book moves you deeply, it is because these traditions are in all likelihood the last living symbols of a bygone era that offered a more humane and profound understanding of religion – certainly a far more liberating one from the fundamental overtones it has assumed in the present day. Also, the idea of renunciation and the search of the eternal truth is perhaps felt strongest in today's times of mindless material pursuits in the backdrop of terror attacks and other calamities.

Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest and screen adaptation

Having a Wilde time!

Set amidst the artistocratic excess of the late Victorian era, The Importance of Being Earnest remains one of Ocsar Wilde's most popular and enduring plays. The play is about two characters who take on fictitious names to escape needless obligations in their society. Algernon (Algie) and Earnest Worthing are friends, with a penchant for the good life. Earnest is in love with Algie's cousin, Gwendolen, who in turn is controlled by her imposing mother, Lady Bracknell.

Meanwhile, Algie discovers that Earnest has a young ward called Cecily Cardew living in the country side. When cornered, Earnest reveals that his actual name is John Worthing and he has created a fictitious brother called Earnest - who he comes to meet in the town - so that he can enjoy his life in London, without compromosing his respectable image back home. Algie tells Earnest that he too has a fictitious friend called Bunbury, an invalid who Algie goes to visit in the country whenever he wishes to escape his aunt Lady Bracknell's boring parties.



Gwendolen loves Earnest more for his name than anything else, she insists. She wants to marry him but her mother puts her foot down when she learns that Earnest has no living parents and in fact, was found as a baby in a leather bag at a railway station. So unless Earnest produces at least one parent Lady Brackwell will hear nothing about the proposal.

Meanwhile, Algie lands up in the country as John's brother - Earnest-- and instantly falls for Cecily. But there are confusions galore, as both Gwendolen and Cecily are now in love with two different men called 'Earnest'
The plot can appear complicated, but it is a finely constructed comedy of manners, bristling with some of Wilde's most humorous quotes.



The play was adapted into a film in 1952 and later in 2002 by Oliver Parker, who also brought to screen Oscar Wilde's other play, An Ideal Husband. The Importance of Earnest has a wonderful cast comprising Rupert Everette, Colin Firth, Frances O'cConnor, Reese Witherspoon and Judi Dench. Parker makes very minor changes to the original, retaining all the famous lines - though the use of too many wise-cracks in quick succession appears a tad forced and stilted when you hear it in a film. Parker embellishes the film with a few extra scenes - like the strip club scenes - which is needless and makes the drama too literal. On the other hand, the scene where lady Bracknell grills Earnest at her mansion is very effective.

Among the performances, Reese Witherspoon shines as Cecily. But it's Judy Dench - as the domineering Lady Bracknell who chews up the screen each time she appears. It's a delight to watch her mouth some of Wilde's best written lines, tinged with delicious irony. When Earnest refuses permission for Cecily to marry Algy, until she turns 35, Lady Bracknell asserts her view with dead-pan smugness. "London society is full of women of the very highest birth who have, of their own free choice, remained thirty-five for years."
The play is ultimately a light satire of Victorian ways and upper class foibles, and a comic masterpiece that is sure to delight generations to come. The film won't disappoint you either.

Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni's One Amazing Thing

Author: Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
Pages: 224
Price: 450
Publishers: Hamish Hamilton (Peguin Imprint)

Expatriate writer Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, who is best known for her award-winning short story collection, Arranged Marriage and novels, Sister Of My Heart and The Mistress of Spices (adapted into a film, the Aishwarya Rai starrer) released her new book, One Amazing Thing recently. This was my first introduction to her work and while I mostly enjoyed the novel and found it a breezy read, I couldn't help feeling that the sum of the story wasn't at all greater than the parts.

One Amazing Thing is about a group of six-seven people of different nationalities who get trapped at the Indian consulate office in US after a major earthquake strikes. As food runs out and the building starts collapsing, the characters find the boundaries between them starting to crumble down, literally and otherwise. To keep sane and avoid panicking, one of the characters suggests to the others that each one of them should reveal one amazing thing that has happened to them. Among those trapped are an elderly white couple going through a difficult time in their marriage; an Indian-Muslim man, Tariq who is disillusioned and angry with the new US; a Chinese-Indian, Jiang, who loved and lost a man in her youth; her talented grand-daughter, Lily; a middle-aged army officer haunted by his guilt; Two visa officers – Malathi and her boss, Mangalam on the verge of an extra-marital affair; an India-American student, who is confused by her parents' decision to return to Kolkata after living in US for over 20 years.

As uncertainty builds over whether they will make it alive or not, the characters pour their hearts out in stories that seek to unburden them from a certain baggage of their past, and offer hope for the future. Divakurani sets the stage well and you are acquainted with atleast three of the characters before the earthquake strikes, so that later, their's are the stories you are most interested to know about. Among the rest, Jiang's story is easily the most affecting and haunting one. Her story dates back to the time when she was a smart, young Chinese girl living with her father and brother in Kolkata. In spite of her age, she handles her father's shoe business efficiently and it is at this juncture that love strikes. Jiang falls in love with a Hindu boy and there is stiff opposition when they plan to marry. They stay determined, but not for long. The Indo-China war of 1962 endangers the life of Chinese settlers in India and Jiang is hurriedly made to board a ship to the US, along with a family friend who offers to marry her. Jiang - the strong and steadfast woman that she is - continues to live her life, but not without the wistful regret of what she lost. Divakurani narrates the story with great feeling and vividness. Also, the story gives you a sense of history about the Chinese community in India, all of which adds to its appeal.

The other very entertaining story involves Malathi and her stint as a beautician in a top beauty salon. Malathi's tale is the most light-hearted one, intended to show her adventurous, brave side. She describes a rich socialite who visits their salon often, accompanied by her servant-girl. Things are perfect in the lady's life, until she suspects that her liberal-minded son has falled for the servant. All hell breaks lose then.

The other stories are a mixed bag. The visa officer's character intrigues you the most at the start, but his story --- about his impoverished background and later getting trapped in a loveless marriage with a rich heiress... all seems straight out of a Bollywood family drama. Tariq's story is again an all too familiar one --- an Indian-American, who has lived all his life in US, feels unfairly discriminated back against for being a Muslim post 9/11 and wonders if he must goto India. The other stories are readable, but nothing stays with you.

If one wouldn't have known that Divakurani has worked with refugees from Hurricane Katrina in 2005, and has seen from close quarters rita Hurricain hitting Housten (the place she resides in), causing a massive evacuation, one would have been surprised aboout her bringing in an earthquake situation out of all things.
And the Indian Consulate setting seems like a forced one to bring characters of diverse backgrounds together. Very early on, Divakaruni evokes The Cantebury tales, Chauser's celebrated epic about a group of pilgrims who narrate one story each. It's one thing for characters to narrate stories on a journey, but would they do so when they are waiting to be rescued from an earthquake affected area? The whole situation is a bit contrived.

The author's intend is to show the healing power of stories, how they empower us, how they redeem us. The stories by themselves are mostly engaging, but one is never wholly convinced about the situation they are caught into. The sense of urgency doesn't come across strongly and neither is there any plausible trigger point for the characters to narrate stories.

Individually though the stories are well-told. Divakurani is a perceptive author, who succeeds in keeping the narrative simple yet elegant. The language is graceful. Her similies and metaphors are original and interesting. "Moving to live where no one knew you, shucking off your wornout life like old snakeskin"

One Amazing Thing is certainly worth a read, though it might not leave you fully satisfied.

Monkey-man and interview with Usha K R

Author: Usha K. R
Pages: 259
Price: 299
Publishers: Penguin
Published in the year: 2010



After her stunning last book, A Girl And A River that won Usha K R the Vodafone Crossword Award, 2007, the author has just come out with her second book. Much like A Girl..., her new book, Monkey man is a pleasure to read ---rich as it in characterisation and situational drama. Usha demonstrates her love for her favourite author, Jane Austen in the manner in which she slowly goes about unraveling her numerous characters, presenting them with unmistakable irony and subtle humour. But where Usha perhaps resembles Austen less and George Eliot more is in her grim understanding of the human condition. A Girl... was both historically and socio-culturally rooted. In Monkey-man, the author attempts to portray the changing Indian urban scape at the turn of the century through the lives of different characters.

Usha bases her story in her own city, Bangalore - one whose complexion has drastically altered in the last two decades. From being a breezy city of gardens, a Pensioner's Paradise, Bangalore has gone on to become one of the country's leading IT hubs. Today, it's a highly commercialised city, one of the prime metros of the country with soaring real estate prices and crazy traffic, among other things.

Usha's choice of location for both A Girl.. and Monkey Man - Southern India - is welcome. For a change, it's not Delhi, Mumbai or Kolkata. Quite instantly, the world Usha creates feels fresh. Besides, Usha is acutely conscious of the socio-political landscape that her characters inhabit.

The novel is about four characters residing in Bangalore - they could of course be from anywhere in India. There is Shrinivas Moorthy, a senior professor, forever falling back on the virtues of Gandhian passivity, even as the world around him has changed in ways he cannot recogonise anymore. He stubbornly sticks to the tried and tested ways, looking with suspicion and unease at any new plan that his dynamic friend-turned-superior Jairam suggests.

Shrinivas's story covers a journey from 1960s to 2000. The fact that he is caught in a time wrap is accentuated through the contrasts brought out by the other characters. Jairam and his wife Geeta for example. All three of them start out as college friends, hanging around together, being part of intense political debates. Shrinivas is thrifty and somewhat timid, using his intellectualism in safe and secure ways – like the film club he runs. Jairam, the more volatile and charismatic one, goes through a brief period of intense political fevour during the Emergency days that threatens to derail his life. But luck favours him in the long run.

Many of the college scenes and fiery exchanges that Usha presents in this story are excellent. Even some of the minor characters she etches out are done with delicious irony...

“Preeti Vaidya, the English lecturer was a different kind altogether. Her husband was the head of a multinational company, whose photographs and pithy comment appeared almost every other day in the business section of the newspapers, and Preeti made it quite clear that she didn't need the job; her house did not run on her salary. She was there only for her love of English literature. Which didn't make her any less attentive to her entitlements of dearness allowance, and scale and seniority, but it edged her dealings with her colleagues with a mild condescension”

Shrinivas' character has its moments, but he seems too much of a metaphor in the end. He teaches history - literally to symbolize how he's turning ancient now. Somehow, this character didn't work entirely for me, but the scenes around him are well-crafted and the supporting characters in his story are all excellent.

The one real triumph with respect to character-creation is that of Neela Mary Gopalrao, the spiteful, but romance-yearning secretary to an influential man in a Government organisation. She treats her colleagues shabbily, creating new impediments for them everyday, withholding payments. Like Shrinivas, she is also a representative of the “old economy”, where a Government job implies complete security. Having struggled to reach where she does, Neela indulges in petty games, unable as she is to be productive in any true sense.

Neela is a highly original character and though, she isn't really a 'representative' of any section in any obvious sense, all the parts involving her are highly readable.

These are really the two characters that really stand out. The other two, Bali Brums – the hot-shot RJ and Pushpa Rani, who leaves a temporary Government job to work in a call centre – are both meant to be representatives of the emerging new generation, with new ideas about career and life. Bali Brams' arguments with his parents over not completing his engineering and taking up an unsteady job etc – are all a bit familiar. Pushpa Rani is an important character, in the sense she comes from a disadvantaged economic class, eager to prove her worth and improve her station in life. But even some of her portions involving her family appear a bit long-drawn.

So the big question? Why is the book called Monkey-man? This is an episode that happened in the year 2000, where people from all over the country reported seeing a strange monkey-like creature. Most of the above characters happen to see this 'monkey' and hence are called on Bali Brum's show.

Yet, the novel is not really about the Monkey-man incident. Even in real life when people were terrified about the creature, there was a cloud of suspicion on whether it is was for real or a figment of someone's imagination. Usha K R evokes the creature's shadowy, hazy and mythic image as a metaphor for the dramatic, overwhelming and grotesque transformation of the city.
This is an excellent fictional device, which sounds great on paper. But in the book, the connection seems somewhat forced, not born very organically from the stories. The sudden attack of the monkey taps into the inner-most fears and insecurities of the characters. But that feeling doesn't come across as effectively as it could have.
There is an uneasy stretch in the narrative for sure.

Again, Bangalore has grown exponentially since 2000, but that is obviously not covered in this book. This might disappoint those who expected the novel to be about present-day Bangalore. But otherwise, this is once again a solid effort from Usha. In fact, while her previous, A Girl... was grim and even heavy at places, albeit a wonderfully challenging read, Monkey-man is easier and more character-driven.
Usha's language is rich and fluent, without ever getting turgid or pretentious.
Go for it!

PS: It's a quick read. I myself read it twice in the span of one week.


Bangalore Bytes

Award-winning writer Usha K R uses the famous 'monkey-man' episode to symbolise the dark, grotesque and uncertain ways in which Bangalore has exploded as a metro in the last few decades



Bangalore-based author, Usha K R has been an accomplished writer of fiction for the last two decades, but her moment of reckoning came with her last novel, The Girl And A River which won her the prestigious Vodafone Crossword Award in 2007. Her latest book, Monkey-Man, about the denizens of Bangalore, has also opened to rave reviews.

The action in Usha's book dates back to 2001, where the 'monkey-man' episode was hot news. The rumour was that a dark, monkey-like creature had invaded the country. No one could tell exactly whether it was an animal or a human being, but everyone was struck with terror, as people reported to have been attacked by it. Usha uses the 'monkey-man' episode as a metaphor for our fear of the unknown - the dark, disorienting feeling it brought. From a breezy city of gardens, Bangalore has rapidly metamorphosed into a huge IT hub, with glitzy malls, happening pubs and crazy traffic. Usha takes different characters who have to deal with the city's dramatic transformation in small and big ways. Some of them see the changes as an opportunity to break free, while others struggle to keep up with it. In each case, the 'monkey-man' is a forewarning of the dark, shadowy and fearful space they seem to be entering into.


On what prompted her to use the 'monkey-man' metaphor?

Usha K R: One of the marvels of fiction is that it seems to suggest very plausible connections between things that are logically very remote - the connections can be slight or tentative and they grow in ways not imagined or foreseen by the writer. As I was thinking about the lives of my characters in this ‘exponentially growing’ world, and how little control they seemed to have over the changes that were creeping up on them, I wondered over the possibility of a completely random element that takes over our lives and destinies and forces them to a logical end, and whether this logic is dictated by our nature or the pattern of our lives. Next in line was whether cities have their own destinies, whether sudden and uncontrolled growth can spin off a miasma, a spectral presence, and in which case what would it be. Would it be emanation of wish-fulfillment, of desire or disappointment or death or of change for the better or none of these things? Through the lives of my characters I wanted to explore these connections.

On her characters

Usha K R: The novel is set against the background of the changes that have swept through the country in the last few decades - affecting different parts and different cities to a lesser or greater degree. And since Bangalore is the pin-up city for new India, I have used Bangalore as a template for these changes. You have Shrinivas Moorty, growing up with Marxist ideals, but who is completely out-of-sync with the new dispensation; Neela, who senses the changes but without the appropriate skills to deal with them, she can only fall back on guile - these two are what I call my ‘old economy’ characters. Then you have Bali Brums and Pushpa Rani, unburdened by the past, by caste and community, who grasp at the opportunities that the new age has provided and want to live life on their own terms. These people could be there in any city or town in India.

On her last book, A Girl And A River

Usha K R: A Girl and A River was a historical novel; Monkey-Man deals with contemporary events --- and the pace is much faster. If A Girl… was a marathon, this was a 100 metre dash, or rather - a T20 as against a test match, and each form has its own rhythm, its beauty and its compulsions. Actually, I started thinking about both these novels and making notes for them almost simultaneously. But A Girl … got written first. Much also depends on how the novel suggests itself to the writer in the first place.

On Indian Writing In English

Usha K R: If IWE has to acquire a wider readership, it has to spread its wings and go beyond literary fiction as it is doing now, and that is a good thing. Moreover, readers also want to read different kinds of writing - you want to read a thriller, and fluffy romance and a more serious ‘literary’ work, perhaps simultaneously. So, there is room for different kinds or writing and writers.

- Sandhya Iyer

The Age Of Innocence (classic on celluloid)

Of all that which could have been!

When director Martin Scorsese took up the task of adapting Edith Wharton's tender, romantic classic The Age of Innocence in 1993, many thought it a rather odd choice for the maker of such male-oriented films such as Raging Bull, Taxi Driver, The Last Temptation of Christ, Mean Streets among others. But according to the filmmaker this was his 'most violent film' referring to the emotional verses physical state of being.

Wharton wrote her novel in 1920, a good 40-50 years from the period in which The Age Of Innocence is set in. The author brings to life her own close-knit, upper-class New York society, with its conservatism, artificiality and stagnancy. It's a world where America's select elites wined and dined and outwardly lived a very charmed life. Here reputations had to be fiercely guarded and a single whisper could lead to slander and misfortune. And yet, it was an age Edith was nostalgic about and she brings out this sentiment through one of her characters --- "there was good in the old ways"
In fact, the very reason she chose to write the novel was because her sense of calm and security had been destroyed after the first world war. She needed the comfort of nostalgia. Many critics found it an irrelevant subject, but The Age Of Innocence was probably one last chance for Edith to live through the momories of her youth and bring alive a time that seemed lost forever.


Edith Wharton's story is then about a passionate, illicit affair that is born in such a circumstance. But the hold of this society on the individual is so strong, its roots so entrenched, its customs and codes so impenetrable, that passion is ultimately sacrificed at the altar of convention. When the story begins Archer Newland is soon to be engaged to May Welland - popularly understood to be a perfect young woman with unreproachable repute. This picture perfect world is challenged with the coming of May's European cousin, Ellen Olenska, an aesthetic and free-spirited woman who becomes the talk of the town. Her presence is a source of mingled contempt and envy for the denizens around. Her broken marriage to a Count and her 'fallen' status makes for spicy dinner table gossip. Archer gets attracted to Ellen as he finds something very real about her.
In complete contrast is his financee May - who becomes almost a metaphor for all the shallowness and silliness that he starts to hate about his society. But his affair with Ellen does not last and both decide to bow down to conventional wisdom. They silently continue to love each other, even while leading their individual lives. When an opportunity to meet each other arises after many years, both give it up because as Archer says "it is like a pilgrimage that had been attained"
Meeting each other seems immaterial now.

If Wharton's novel is a feast of words, Scorsese's adaptation is a feast of sumptuous visuals. The film - through its marvelous art design - captures the period to perfection. The succulent food spreads in the affluent homes, the elaborate décor, luxuriant drawing rooms, the exquisite glass wares.. all lend an unbelievable sense of grandness and authenticity to this period piece.

The film is also one of the most faithful adaptations of the novel. In fact, the director uses an elderly woman as the narrator of the story and this is implied to be Edith Wharton herself. One of the chief attractions of the novel is that its language perfectly matches the ornamental world it describes. The sentences are all delicately crafted, with many succinct observations.
"Clever liars give details, but the cleverest do not"
"In the rotation of crops, there was a recogonised season to sow wild oats, but they were not to be sown more than once"
I'm not sure if these were included in the film, but Scorsese makes sure to take some of the best dialogues from the book, and use it to maximum effect.

The theme of the novel largely points at absurdity of human life, being compelled into action that the mind does not agree with. The one issue I had with the film was the pairing of Daniel Day-Lewis and Michelle Pfeiffer. Though good actors, they have very little chemistry between them.
Winona Ryder, as the passive-aggressive May is good though.
The film never scales the emotional peaks of the book, but it remains a lush, beautiful and admirable effort nevertheless.

- Sandhya Iyer

The enduring charm of Pride And Prejudice

Why is it that Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice enjoys such a place of pride in the history of literary annals? The book has been re-imagined for the screen at least thrice, once as mini-series on BBC, which is still considered the most definitive adaptation of Austen’s classic. Yet, the fascination for it prevails and this eighteenth-century novel remains as one of the most widely read texts in the world.

So what is it that attracts filmmakers to keep revisiting Pride And Prejudice, as director Joe Wright last did with his Keira-Knightley film in 2005? Is it because Austen's heroine in the novel - with her pluck and wit - appeals as much to modern-day men and women as she did in her period?

Now, much has been made about Austen being a feminist and so on. Beyond the fact that the author liked and rewarded her heroines for being less superficial than the rest, it must be fairly stated that there was no real attempt on Austen's part to drastically break away from the prevailing conventions of her time. She was very much part of the patriarchal set-up and didn't really bother herself with the gender politics, though she was keen and discerning enough to understand that it existed. Her stories faintly hinted at injustice towards women, wherein they could not own property or pursue a real career, but she adapted to the time she lived in. If anything, she laid some stress on her female characters negotiating their space and freedom in their given circumstances.

One of the reasons that keeps this classic so fresh is that to this day a great premium is laid on matrimony and a woman finding the perfect match for herself. Also, the Darcy- Elizabeth love-hate relationship remains one of the most romantic happenings in literature. There is something curiously exciting and even gratifying about a man of pride, position, and privilege humbling himself before love and being so vulnerable to the emotion. This is precisely what readers across ages and generations have found so endearing about the debonair personality of M. Darcy.

The other reason for the novel to remain relavant is the character of Elizabeth (Lizzy), who in her own way, refuses to entirely comply with the conventions of her time. The pragmatism and cynicism of the age she lived in does not prevent her from being a romantic idealist. It is this quality that Darcy finds incredibly attractive. But as we know, Lizzy, for all her bright wit and exuberance, is charmingly naive. She makes an error of judgement with respect to Darcy, hating him with a passion, only to find herself in the wrong and then getting violently drawn to him.

Considering that the BBC mini-adaptation absolutely nailed the book, capturing every word and emotion to perfection, there was nothing really left for the next screen adaptation to do but approach it slightly differently. What Joe Wright and the makers do in the 2005 version of the film is to concentrate more on recreating the ambience, mood and visuals, rather than going too deeply into the characters or the story. The makers have gone with the assumption that most people already know about the story. Right from the first scene, where Keira Knightley, presented as the free-spirited Lizzy walks towards her home with a book in hand, the camera gorgeously moves capturing the pretty countryside in all its glory. The attempt is to bring alive the mood and magic as depicted in the Austen novel. The evening balls have been splendidly recreated and every setting is pitch perfect with a warm, lived-in feel to it.

Also, in spite of the film covering an entire novel in just a little over two hours, it manages to look not too hurried. If anything, it is a bit languorous and sometimes even audibly problematic. The characters seem to say some key sentences in an off hand way.



Yet, all the key scenes have been retained with some changes being made to make the experience more cinematic or impactful. Like for example, there is that scene where Lizzy and Mr And Mrs Collins are dining with Lady Catherine. The latter asks Lizzy some pointed questions in her patronizing way, to which Lizzy's answers are both witty and unflinching, much to the shock of Lady Catherine. In the book, Mr Darcy is not part of this scene. But in the film, he is. This is a good choice because it helps you understand in quick time why Darcy could have been enamoured with Lizzy. Also, this is a very well-done scene , with Judy Dench as the domineering Lady Catherine in full form.

Again, the famous proposal scene between the leads happens outdoors in the rain to heighten its impact. In fact, many scenes are shot outdoors to give the film a visually sumptuous feel. The other change that has been made is that when Lizzy visits Pemberley, she sees Darcy with his sister in an exaggerated joyful state. The original has Lizzy taken by surprise to see Darcy there, and both experience a rare moment of ecstasy. Like the novel says, “Their eyes instantly met, and the cheeks of each were overspread with the deepest blush.” This should have been ideally retained in the film.

Also, the character of Collins - the infamous cousin of the Bennet sisters - has been lampooned only by way of his shortness in the film. If not for his midget-like appearance, his face and manners carry the impression of him being a perfectly respectable and decent young man. Never does he really come across like the pompous and irritating man Austen intended him to be. Of course, he mouths all those funny lines in the proposal scene, but he comes across as more pitiable than ludicrous here.

The casting for Lizzy’s character was the most important one, but somehow Keira Knightley just doesn’t fit the bill. The makers probably wanted a today’s version of Elizabeth but what you get is a rather flighty, giggly female, with not an iota of the grace that is so essential to Lizzy’s character. The others are adequate. Matthew Macfadyen, as Darcy, looks odd at places keeping a stiff upper lip, but he also exudes a certain vulnerability which is charming.

Overall though, this is a fine adaptation. And must not be missed for its luminous visuals and stunning recreation of a bygone era.

Collected Short Stories Vol 1 Somerset Maugham

Pages:536
First Published in: 1951



There are some writers who once you sample their works, you cannot give up until you have covered a fair share of it. With Somerset Maugham, the challenge is both thrilling as well daunting. Thrilling because here is an author I am so happy I discovered and with whom I almost feel a kindred spirit - in terms of the themes he takes up and his so called cynicism - which is really not cynicism, but a certain astounding ability to discern human weaknesses. He's realistic about people, knowing well that human beings are inconsistent and complex. Also, he realizes that seemingly incongruous traits can exist in the same person. This prevents Maugham from either eulogizing a person too much or berating their depravity. According to Maugham, he could never judge anyone too harshly or be too shocked by sin, precisely because he was guilt-ridden about many things himself and understood only too well that perfection is a myth and that we all live extremely flawed lives. He said, “I take the goodness of the good for granted, and I am amused when I discover their defects or their vices. I am touched when I see the goodness of the wicked, and I am willing enough to shrug a tolerant shoulder at their wickedness.”

The above, in many ways, is the overarching theme of all his stories. The author gives voice to his own thoughts when one of his characters in The Fall of Edward Barnad says, "Perhaps we make too much of a difference between one man and another. Perhaps even the best of us are sinners and worst of us are saints"
His friend in the story is not willing to buy this argument and counters by saying, " You will never persuade me that white is black and black is white"
But almost every short story in this collection - and this quality applies to all the author's works in general - the writer points at the utter futility of catagorising people as good or bad, evil or virtuous. And to establish this truth, he puts his characters through all kinds of situations, delving deep into the recesses of their heart, acutely discerning their motives and the complex emotions that drive them.

There are about 30 stories in all, and each story is a wonder in character creation. And Maugham unfolds them with great relish, layer by layer – like the peeling of an onion. Many of them were written when he travelled far and wide – some of them were British colonies. Quite a few of the stories are based in London and are anecdotal . The Luncheon, Louise, The Promise, The Voice of the Turtle...all are delightful, and bristle with charm and ironic humour. There are some others which raise fundamental questions about religion, love and freedom.

As Maugham says in his book, The Summing Up, - themes came to him very easily. He could be talking to someone for an hour and he could envision a story revolving him. Such was the fecundity of his mind! Maugham’s characters are not entirely unusual, but they almost always have a quirk, which the author used to the fullest. He has a very fine sense of drama, so that you are always curious to know what happens next.
Mackintosh, for example, is a story that rests on his ability to sketch out the characters of the chief, Walter and his assistant, Mackintosh. The latter feels a strange mix of envy, hatred and derision for his boss. Walter is a loudmouth, a sadist, uncouth, but not without a roguish charm and a skill for repartee. He rules over the natives with an iron hand, but he also looks out for them like a tiger does for his cubs. Maugham is simply marvelous in his creation of these two persons.

Then there are other stories, where Maugham's skill with characters comes to the fore. The Mother is a poignant tale of a woman, who turns resentful and sullen after spending years in jail. Her only bundle of joy is her handsome son, whom she loves with a rare ferocity. But things go wrong again, and come to a tragic end.
The matriarch in Home is another gem of a creation. Equally enigmatic is the character of the laconic judge in The Happy Couple.

Maugham has written how he enjoyed the format of a short story, because he didn’t have to live with a story for too long. And yet, he believed that these stories no matter how small should be complete in themselves. He didn’t want any of them to trail off. This is partly a characteristic of Maugham’s writing – which is not only lucid, it never fails to make a point ever. This enables his stories to be engaging and dramatic. The flip side to this is that some of the endings to the stories appear too sudden and somewhat unconvincing . For example, in Rain – an otherwise powerful story about religion and its tyrannical propagators - it is never quite clear why the missionary Rev Davidson commits suicide. What are his motivations? The situation in the story and what you know of his character never lead you to believe what he does finally. Quite a few stories have an instance of a death or suicide at the end, but unfortunately, that decision at most times seems born out of the need for an ironic suggestion. You never quite understand why Mackintosh ends his life suddenly. Yes, human being are complex and contradict themselves often in action and words, yet, that can’t explain death/suicide so easily.

A few critics have also pointed towards racial undertones in a few of Maugham’s stories – one of them being The Pool. The story is about an English man, Lawson, an officer in the British colony of Apia. He falls in love with a beautiful native called Ethel and even marries her, much to the disapproval of the White community living there. But things don’t work as per his plans. He slowly loses his sway over the natives, has to bear the humiliation of working for a native owner. Seeing what a groveling lover he is, Ethel starts to despise him. The story ends with Lawson giving up his life, drowning himself in the Pool – the very place where he was first entranced by the native girl. If one has followed Maugham’s work keenly, one would be less inclined to read the story as a racial one. The theme is tied to the author’s belief in the idea that most women become heartless towards men who are unusually devoted to them and are willing to make any sacrifice. Maugham’s idea is that women will accept a man’s cruelty, but she can’t bear him being subservient. Of course, The Pool can be interpreted as a White man’s fascination for the exotic colonies he ruled over. The author could be suggesting that while it’s nice for the White man to admire the native land and its people, he must not allow their worlds to collide.

As expected, Maugham’s displays what a fine craftsman he is. The words are elegant and precise, with a wonderful sense for cadences - so that every now and then one feels like saying out a sentence aloud and relishing its ring. The delightful turn of phrases, the ironic wit, the keen insights – all ensure you don’t have a single dull moment with Maugham.

-Sandhya Iyer

The Moon And Sixpence

Author: Somerset Maugham
Pages: 215
Publishers: Vintage Classics
First published in the year: 1919


A Moon and Sixpence is a story that Maugham wrote inspired from post-impressionist painter Paul Gauguin's tumultuous life. There was a sense of notoriety around Gauguin because he left his regular job and deserted his wife and children just like that! He rejected European civilization calling it 'artificial and conventional' and moved to the island of Tahiti where he created paintings that went on to become masterpieces after his death.

He was drawn to primitivism as an art form and his paintings -- characterised by bold experimentation of colours and geometric designs -- changed the course of modern paintings and after his death, Gauguin became one of the most influential artists of his times. (his painting below)


Having only recently read Maugham's Ten Novels and Their Authors and The Painted Veil, I for many reasons felt he was combining the themes of both these books in A Moon And Sixpence. In Ten Novels.... Maugham describes with great fascination the life of famous authors and what went into the making of their classic novels. It is with the same sense of curiosity and ear for scandal that he approaches the life of Gauguin. The other important theme in the book - much like The Painted Veil – is marriage and entrapment. Maugham is decidedly cynical about the institution and every couple he describes in A Moon And Sixpence has a secret sorrow and is caught in a trap of undefined misery. This is a constant theme with most of Maugham's works where a marital union never really reaches fruition because one of the partners feels dissatisfied.

The first few pages of the novel are a bit difficult to get by,
as they are somewhat turgid. But once the story begins and takes a sharp turn with the disappearance of Charles Strickland (modelled on Gauguin), you are gripped by the narrative. His desertion of his comely wife and adorable kids is shocking to everyone who know him. The story is described by Maugham himself, who much like Nick Carraway in The Great Gatsby is the sincere, wise but detached narrator-character in the book. He is not an active participant in the tumultuous lives of the people around him but he is a trusted confidante and each character reveals their innermost feelings to him.

The story takes you through Strickland's unconventional life – he is brusque, loutish, cruel and eccentric to a maniacal level. Having foregone his cushy life, he lives in the most wretched conditions, striving to paint and give vent to the artist in him. He borrows money constantly as if it wer his right. In spite of his brutal ways he still finds enough people to care for his undiscovered genius. One of them is the goofy Dirk Stroeve, an inferior painter, who can recogonise superior art. He provides home and shelter to Strickland when the latter takes violently ill. But his compassion means nothing to Strickland who makes no effort to resist Dirk's wife, Blanche when she falls for his roguish charm. What others think of him means nothing to Strickland and he doesn't bat an eyelid when Blanche dies.

His happiest and saddest days are in the gorgeous island of Tahiti – where he is somewhat at peace with himself. While everywhere else his behaviour is considered deviant, in Tahiti, odd balls are accepted for what they are since there are many around. Tahiti also brings a painful end to his life when he is struck by leprosy. The book says that Strickland created dazzlingly beautiful paintings on the walls of the house he lived in. But when he was about to die, he asked his wife, Ata (who he married there) to burn it all down.

It's hard to say how much of the novel is entirely based on Gauguin's life, and Maugham has said, he took the basic framework of the painter's life and worked around it. Maugham's book materialised when the author went to Tahiti and spoke to people about Gauguin.
As it stands, Strickland is so abominable, cruel and so wholly negative that it's a bit difficult to accept him as a real character. Also, his life prior to being a painter is never clear. Maugham could have at least given some indication of his artistic bent of mind but he's portrayed exactly as the opposite. His sudden transformation as an artiste is not convincing. Even Gauguin in his life as a stockbroker, is understood to have painted on and off, so it's surprising why Maughan could not incorporate that aspect into the story. This is a jarring point in the novel, one that threatens to ruin the experience of the book.

Yet, the novel offers an incisive, penetrating view into what possibly goes into the making of an artist, his unique temperament and his unrelenting search for inspiration. Still, Strickland cannot be a representative for all artists since Maugham's portrayal of him is deliberately sketchy and overly negative. It's like knowing only one part of a story.
Amidst the outrageous and tragic events that unfold, what keeps the narrative rooted and real is Maugham's sane, controlled presence. His vivid description of characters, his acuity in identifying their nature and compulsions, his ability to spell out universal human truths, makes the novel a compelling read.

The book, like most of Maugham's other works teems with quotable quotes. This is what he says of women and the perverse thrill they derive from suffering. "A women can forgive a man for teh harm he does her, but can never forgive him for the sacrifises he makes on her account"

On his inability to be angry with Strickland for too long, Maugham says, "It is one of the defects of my character that I cannot altogethr dislike anyone who make me laugh."

Apart from this, there are countless reflections on art and life - which are all profounding inspiring.