Life of Pi (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Life of Pi is the story of Piscine Molitor Patel – known as Pi – a young, bookish boy whose life revolves around the hippos, hyenas, bears and other animals at his father’s zoo in Pondicherry, India. Curious by nature, Pi is deeply influenced by religion, and learns about and embraces three of them – Christianity, Hinduism and Islam. But his idyllic life at the zoo comes to an end when his father decides to pack up and move the family to Canada for a better life. They leave aboard a Japanese cargo ship called the Tsimtsum along with many of their animals, who are bound for zoos in the US. A few days into their journey, disaster strikes – their ship, along with most of the animals and the entire Patel family – bar Pi – sink to the depths of the ocean. 16-year old Pi finds himself on a lifeboat with a zebra, hyena, orang-utan and a Royal Bengal tiger named Richard Parker. Of course, the only animal to survive is Richard Parker, and Pi must share his lifeboat with him and hope for a miraculous rescue.

The book is hailed as a modern day classic, a glorious spiritual adventure that makes us question what it means to be alive, and to believe. But sadly, I found it lacking.

I read the book after watching the movie, as I was sure the philosophy and meditation on life would be better conveyed through the written word. However, this was not so. Life of Pi is one of those few books that do much, much better as a movie.

There are aspects of the book that are rather gruesome – especially the portion where the hyena eats the orang-utan. The “message” that Martel aims to convey – faith translates to belief in the improbable; atheism means choosing the story you already know; and agnosticism as a refusal to choose – seems to be lost in translation.

Probably if you can put your expectations aside, you might find it an interesting read, as Martel’s writing style and plot build-up are excellent.

For me though, it was all a bit disappointing.

Disclaimer: I got all the three books from Random House India, but the review and opinions expressed are my own.

I wish I could spend my time
painting, photographing, writing, cooking.

I wish I was surrounded by friends and loved ones,
talking, sharing, communing.

I wish life was simpler,
relaxed, carefree, joyful, abundant.

I wish…

What do you wish for?

Inspired by Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop

From the back cover:

Is running away ever the answer?
An apparently happy marriage. A beautiful son. A lovely home. So what makes Emily Coleman get up one morning and walk right out of her life to start all over again? Has she had a breakdown? Was it to escape her dysfunctional family – especially her flawed twin sister Caroline who always seemed to hate her? And what is the date that looms, threatening to force her to confront her past? No-one has ever guessed her secret. Will you?

This was an excellent, compelling read. What would force you to plan your escape from your life – from your husband…your soulmate…and your lovely boy Charlie? What would make you put a stone on your heart every time you think about them in your new life? And how would you cope with the pain, the loss, the deception? In this searingly beautiful novel, with twists you’d never see coming, Seskis sets a crackling pace, with characters you’ll love and others you’ll hate. Kirkus Reviews calls it

The book EVERYONE’S going to be talking about this summer. “Recommended.”

And I couldn’t agree more. If you read just one book this summer, this should be it! The book is out now on Amazon!

The Bleiberg Project by David Khara, Simon John (translator)

From the back cover:

Self-pitying golden boy trader Jay Novacek is having a bad week. He finds out his long-lost father is dead, he discovers his boss’s real identity, and he ends up boarding a plane to Zurich under his real name Jeremy Corbin. He has a Nazi medallion in his pocket, a hot CIA body guard next to him, and a clearly dangerous Mossad agent on his tail. What was his father investigating? Why was his mother assassinated? Why are unknown sides fighting over him with automatic weapons? Far from his posh NY apartment, he races to save the world from a horrific conspiracy straight out of the darkest hours of history. Can it be stopped? This fast-paced thriller was an instant sensation in France. Think a dash of Robin Cook, a splash of John Grisham, and pinch of Clive Cussler with a very distinctive flavor all its own.

If you’re a fan of fast paced thrillers, be prepared to stay up all night as David takes you on a rip-roaring ride! The novel is based on the premise that Hitler’s doctors succeeded in creating an Aryan superman – a killer – who is still alive, as is the doctor who was responsible for the genetic mutation. David builds up the suspense by flashing between different time periods – from Nazi camps to  present day action, dropping hints and clues as your race through the book, desperate to find out what happens next. I loved Jay’s character – his sharp, sarcastic wit even in the middle of untold dangers. Eytan’s character is also fascinating, and I hope he features in more of David’s books. The plotting is excellent, the novel is fast-paced, and the translation is flawless – this book is guaranteed to keep you up all night!

Publication date: 30 April.

Disclaimer: I got the galleys from NetGalley.com. The review and opinions expressed are my own.

Considerations that Need Attention

There are certain kinds of dirt, dirt or stains that may be handled by home treatments as well and not just by professionals. But before starting your treatment you must consider the following aspects

• The type of fabric
• The severity and location of the stain
• And the nature of stain
If you are not sure regarding the type of fabric, you can call up the retailer and ask him. In case of synthetic material, you can safely treat on it since the material is made for ease of maintenance. Yet you should consider the treatment in some hidden area first. But if it is made from more than fifty per cent cotton then you may have to call on professional cleaners.

Understand the Cleaning Codes

Before applying any kind of cleaner you must first look into your furniture or other stuff and follow the instructions after finding the following codes-

1. W: this code means that water can be used in cleaning this furniture.

2. S: this code states that a cleaning solvent can be used on this upholstery.

3. SW: this code means that you can use water as well as solvent cleaners on the upholstery.

4. X: this code states that neither water nor any kind of solvent must be used (in this type of furniture either brushes or simple vacuum must be used). It must be dry cleaned.

Kinds of Stains

There are numerous kinds of stains, but the most common is spilling of tea or coffee and milk. Here are some easy tips how you may handle some kinds of stains-

1. Coffee: For removing coffee stains you can use a combination of dish detergent, vinegar, water and dab on it. You will notice that the coffee stain will disappear.

2. Mold: For treatment of mold you will have to use hydrogen per oxide quarter cup and color safe bleach quarter teaspoon. First clean the area with the mixture and remove excess of solution with clean water. The stains will be removed after drying.

3. Baby Food: Children are in the habit of dropping food everywhere and a simple wipe off with the baby wipes are good enough. The wipes have the right consistency of soap and water, and they simply wipe off.

4. Crayon Stains: Crayon can be ideally handled by using tooth paste that is not gel based. Use the technique in a short area and as soon as you are done rub it off.

5. Oil and Grease: These may be the toughest of stains and it may take time to remove it. You will have to use salt and corn-starch, sprinkling them on the stain and let the oil be absorbed. Then you can put some powder dust.

For daily care, you can use a vacuum cleaner for best results. Special attachments are found in them that can remove dust even from smart corners. Also keep a spot remover handy you can find it at your local market, and it is also remarkably affordable. Always try not to use any water based cleaners on your upholstery.

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And then suddenly, while looking up at that jumble of old buildings, you spot a delightful color combination – terracotta and blue. You pause, raise your camera to your eyes, zoom in, and see a beautiful carved wall. You click a picture, but keep staring at that building as a sea of humanity passes you by, gazing upwards, awestruck, spellbound.

Until the shopkeeper – where your husband, oblivious to your delightful find, is busy buying wood working tools to fuel his hobby – moved by your stillness and your interest in photography, tells you that the building you’re staring at is a masjid. So while he pulls out the tools and makes the bill for your husband, both of you cross the road and climb up a flight of stairs to reach the mosque.

Your husband, who is ahead of you, suddenly turns towards you at the head of the stairs and says “Namaaz is going on, let’s go.” But before you can even process this disappointing news, another man sticks his head out and says “Oh no problem, please come in. Feel free to take pictures. And take off your shoes before you step into the courtyard.”

So you walk on up, give your husband a cheeky grin, and freeze.

Close up of a carved block of stone at the masjid

The masjid is far more beautiful than you had imagined. And, as the shopkeeper said, it’s unique. Because unlike any stone façade you have seen anywhere in the world, this mosque isn’t made of carved stone. It’s made of embossed stone. Yes, it means that the flowers and vines are not cut into the stone; instead, the stone around the shapes has been cut and smoothed away.

The entire mosque is made of red sandstone. Well preserved. Neat and clean. There’s no air of religious fervor here – instead, there’s a quiet spirituality. You can forget about the crowd just one flight of stairs down. The seething humanity, the chaos, the pollution, all of it just melts away. It’s a place where you feel connected with the divine…the universe…yourself…

The masjid itself is 200 years old. Or 500. It depends on who you ask. No one seems to know exactly when it was built. All they know is that it definitely dates from British times. There’s an “English flower” carved on the entryway to prove it. They say the flower isn’t to be found anywhere in India, though they cannot tell you its name. When you ask a gentleman who has just finished his prayers what the name of the masjid is, he shrugs and tells you he is not a regular here.

The “English flower” carved at the entry to the mosque

You finally meet the caretaker, who tells you that the masjid is called Nawab ka Masjid – and you think that is a fitting name. He shows you around the place, showing you entire pillars and walls constructed of one piece of stone. He invites you inside and shows you around. Like all mosques, there are no figures or idols here, just a blank wall with a marble chair pointing towards Mecca. But the pillars are beautifully carved. The atmosphere within is serene. And you come away knowing that you have seen something unique…a structure that will live on in your heart for years to come.

Because, really, how could you not want this chair on wheels? After all, you never know where in the house you’d like to read. And of course, you have to have at least a couple of books along with you, because you never know what you might want to read!

If space is a constraint, how about this bookshelf-cum-reading bench? It’s functional and oh-so-trendy!

Or this reading chair with a built-in bookcase? Kill two birds with one stone!

And if you have too many books that you don’t know what to do with, why not recycle them into a chair a la artist James Thurman, whose reading chair made out of recycled books was featured in the McMuseum of Anthropological Archaeology’s exhibition of “Ancient 21st Century Art-i-facts.”

And finally, I leave you with the chair that has captured my heart and my fancy. I want, want, WANT this chair…made by artist Kelly Swallow using vintage and designer fabrics as well as grain sack and linens.

Now it’s your turn – which one of these is your favorite?

Take a look at some more of my favorite things…

And possibly with good reason. Her Alexandriad trilogy is a comprehensive tale of the life and legacy of Alexander the great.

Cover of Fire from Heaven

The first book, Fire from Heaven, traces Alexander’s early life, from childhood until the assassination of his father King Philip, which leaves Alexander poised to ascend the throne.

Despite the lack of information on the first 20 years of his life, Renault has used the one or two passing mentions of Alexander in various records and relied on documents and accounts from that period to draw up her telling of his formative years. She’s melded fact and fiction to create a plausible account of the political climate in ancient Greece and the influences on Alexander’s life.

But there are some serious problems with this book. For one, Renault elevates Alexander to demi-God status, making it almost impossible to connect with him. Plus, a lot of the key characters come across as extremely shallow. Olympias, Alexander’s mother, is portrayed as a beautiful witch-queen who only rants and raves and plots against her husband King Philip, who in turn is shown as a boor and a drunkard. But Philip was responsible for elevating Macedon from a primitive village to a powerhouse in Greece. His intelligence and keen sense of battle strategy don’t get justice in Renault’s novel. Hephaistion, Alexander’s closest confidant and lover, cuts a rather pathetic figure too. His sole reason for being is apparently to be loved by Alexander, as you can see from the passage below.

“At the stair-foot Hephaistion was waiting. He happened to be there, as he happened to have a ball handy if Alexander wanted a game, or water if he was thirsty; not by calculation, but in a constant awareness by which no smallest trifle was missed.”

But even more importantly, the novel itself is confusing and complicated, mainly because many of the names that Renault uses are different from what most of us are used to (like Herakles for Hercules and Kyros for Cyprus). There’s no list of the characters (which would have helped given the huge cast and very similar-sounding names), nor a timeline (which would have been excellent for readers who are not familiar with Ancient Greece). A lot of the book – especially the parts that deal with politics and the wars and intrigue – is also very clunky, reading almost like a PhD dissertation.

That isn’t to say that the entire novel is a waste of time; it does have its moments. The events leading up to and the battle at which Alexander made his first kill at the age of 12 and his mastery over the mighty steed Bucephalus at the age of 13 are particularly well written, as are some court scenes with King Philip.
Once I finished this, I despaired at the thought of having to read two more books to complete the trilogy, but I thought I might as well plod on ahead or I would never read them. And I’m glad that I did. For the second book – The Persian Boy – was quite a delight.

Cover of The Persian Boy

Told from the point of view of Alexander’s lover Bagoas, a complete shift in narrative style from the first book, The Persian Boy grips you and pulls you into the action. It starts with Bagoas’ capture and gelding, his journey to the court of Darius, and touches on the war between Alexander and Darius from the perspective of someone who is far removed from the action. But once he becomes part of Alexander’s camp and eventually his lover, Bagoas’ first person narrative is fascinating. Alexander is much more accessible in this book than in the first one, as Renault draws a vivid portrait of the man in all his dimensions – from a preening boy to a heroic warrior and charismatic military commander, pragmatic king and devoted lover. Despite being madly in love with Alexander, Bagoas also sees Alexander’s faults – his need for the love and admiration of his troops; his huge ego and anger, which led him to kill a trusted officer in a drunken rage; and his obsession with conquering the world. Alexander’s prowess as a military commander and his tactical maneuvers on the battlefield are also brought out well.

The part that I liked best was that the novel was told from the point of view of a Persian boy, who was in the perfect position to sense Alexander’s growing fascination with Persia and its customs, and his (almost egoistical) desire to be treated with all the courtesies due to an Emperor. This was in direct contrast to his Macedonian soldiers, who saw Persians as sub-human and mocked their culture, and who were used to easy accessibility and informal bantering with their King.

Bagoas’ character is also well drawn – he’s sharp, charming, and knowledgeable about Persian court intrigues, and is also intensely jealous when it comes to Alexander. His quiet desperation to keep Alexander in the land of the living after the death of his life-long friend and companion Hephaistion is moving. Perhaps the most poignant moment is when, after keeping watch over Alexander’s dead body, Bagoas quietly gives way to the Egyptian priests who come to embalm the Macedonian.

Funeral Games (novel) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Once I finished reading this book, I was eager to begin Funeral Games, the final part of the trilogy, which covers the 15 years following Alexander’s death, when his only direct heirs were two unborn sons and a dim-wit half-brother. Needless to say, there was bitter fighting among his wives, distant relatives and generals, all of whom wanted to lay claim on the vast lands that Alexander had conquered. But the increasingly undisciplined Macedonian army, tired of the long war and of being far away from home, proved to be difficult to tame.

Renault tells the tale from the point of view of the various characters who were vying to gain ascendency to the throne. There’s plotting and double-crossing and backstabbing, with quick rises and equally quick and fatal falls. Renault also introduces some new characters in this book. There’s Arridaios, Alexander’s retarded half-brother who had a small part in Fire From Heaven; and Philip’s grand-daughter Eurydike, who is as ambitious as Olympias, but lacks her shrewdness. Sadly, she comes across as a naive young girl who is unable to understand the pulse of the Macedonians or to think of the long-term consequences of her actions.

The only character to come out of the mess clean is Alexander’s half-brother Ptolemy. Realizing that no one could take Alexander’s place, he stakes his claim over Egypt, leaving the rest of the empire for the dogs to fight over, in a manner of speaking. He actually went on to turn the satrapy of Egypt into one of the mightiest kingdoms of the Hellenistic age. And knowing that most of the events described in this book actually happened makes it an even more fascinating read.

Having read the entire trilogy, I’d kind of agree with Gore Vidal’s statement that

“Mary Renault’s Alexandriad is one of the twentieth century’s most unexpectedly original works of art.”

If you are interested in this legendary figure, you should pick up these books (though you could skip the first one if you’d like).

Disclaimer: I got all the three books from Random House India, but the review and opinions expressed are my own.

Ai iz takinz a joy ridez. This be the only joy ridez ai likez.

It was relentless. Without pause. When one piped down to draw breath, the other would keep the tempo going. Mid-way through, their howls became ominous. And then there was a sudden silence. To be broken a few seconds later by the sound of newspaper being mercilessly tortured. And then the smell of fresh cat poop assailed our nostrils.

We dutifully pulled over at the side of the road. Cleaned up our kittens and the carrier. And proceeded onwards again. And as soon as the car moved forward, their caterwauling began afresh.

Ai bullies youz into submissionz. You be submitting to mai willz nowz.

Our only salvation, of sorts, was when we finally reached the vet. But even there, they struggled to break free of our grasp. To escape the horrid humans who put them through that torturous car ride. Which they probably realized would begin again soon enough, for they had to be taken home.

The drive back was an equal torture, with their ever rising howls reaching an alarming crescendo. I was surprised that the motorists around us couldn’t hear anything. That the policeman at the traffic light thought nothing was amiss, that we were just another couple returning home from work.

Ai bravez n mighty hunter. Be scared. Be very scared.

By the time we entered the house, my head was pounding furiously. But our ordeal was far from over. For now we had to clean those kittens up properly. With water and Savalon and disinfectant. And then examine our clothes for traces of cat poop and soak them in disinfectant too.

My nerves were frazzled by the time we were done. All I wanted was a stiff drink to put me out of my misery (and I’m not much of a drinker. And no ma, I didn’t drink!). With a half-crazed look in my eyes I turned to the husband and said, “Thank God we don’t have or want kids! Or this would be our life. Four, five, maybe even more times a day. And then, within a month, I would have to be admitted to a mental hospital!”

Ai eatz yur earz, ok?

I want to erase that trip from my mind like a bad memory. Like something that never happened. And when I see them sleeping so cutely, I can almost forgive them for that nightmare. Almost.

Wez innocent lil furballz. Ah hoominz be spoilin ah namez. We no do neything dey sez we do. Promise.

Circa 1990.
A world drawn and woven with words.
A bond punctuated by absence and distance…
Two continents. Two cities. Two people.
And letters. Hundreds of them.
Over years. Across oceans. Between hearts.

I was delighted, and a little apprehensive, when I read the back cover. Delighted because three of my favorite books are epistolary works – May Sarton’s Journal of a Solitude; Helene Hanff’s 84, Charring Cross Road; and Mary Ann Shaffer’s The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. Apprehensive because I am generally wary of Indian authors, even though there are some excellent novels out there – Indu Suderasan’s brilliant Taj trilogy comes immediately to mind. But then, there are also disasters, like I, Rama or How About A Sin Tonight. And telling a story through letters isn’t the easiest thing to do.

The Other Side of the Table tells the story of Abhi, who is training to become a neurosurgeon in London, and Uma, who has just entered medical college in Calcutta. They write to one another about medicine and life, love and friends, about travels and family, and things that are close to their hearts and about nothing at all. Each letter reveals a tantalizing glimpse into their lives.

We learn that Abhi lost his parents in a car accident when he was very young; that he’s known Uma since he was a child living in Calcutta; that since he’s gone to London, he feels that there’s nothing to tie him to India, except his friendship with Uma.

…I have not gone back to India ever since I came here. What do I go back to? Whom do I come home to? Dadu and Didu are gone. Come to think of it, there is no one there for me but you. You are my only link to India, a continuum from my youth.

We learn that Uma has dreams and ambitions, which she isn’t willing to sacrifice just because they aren’t conventional; that she’s spirited and fiery and unafraid of speaking her mind no matter what the consequences.

“Don’t be ridiculous Uma,” Dr. Bose said without preamble. “Girls don’t do surgery. What is this all about?”
…I heard myself say, “With or without interruptions, I hope to become a very good kind of surgeon, sir.”
“You think it is easy.” His lips curled with sarcasm.
“No, sir. I think it can be done, and I think I can do it.”

Mukherjee scoffed at my apprehensions with the first letter itself. She uses beautiful language without falling into the trap that most Indian authors find themselves in – that of convoluted sentences and big words. Just read this wonderful description of Abhi’s impression of the human gut:

…the glistening, frilly, vulgar and voluptuous beauty of the gut.

This is a beautiful story of dreams and love and loss. Each letter peels back the layers of Abhi’s and Uma’s lives, laying bare their innermost thoughts and desires. Each letter gives us a glimpse of their personalities, their little quirks, finely breathing life into the two protagonists, until you feel like you’ve known them all your life. She crafts a story that will make you laugh with them and cry with them. One in which your heart contracts with sorrow and then, a few letters on, surges with joy.

Part of me wanted to devour the book in one sitting, the other part wanted to stretch out the experience. I took the middle ground – I read the book in two days, and then, once it was over, I started it all over again, so I could savor it one letter at a time.

Highly recommended if you enjoy epistolary novels. If, like me, you are generally wary of Indian authors, pick this book up – I promise you won’t regret it!

Montgomery, Alabama
December 20, 1940

If I could fit myself into this mail slot, here, I’d follow my letter all the way to Hollywood, all the way to Scott, right up to the door of our next future. We have always had a next one, after all, and there’s no good reason we shouldn’t start this one now. If only people could travel as easily as words. Wouldn’t that be something? If only we could be so easily revised.

Beautiful, don’t you think? Would this be a book you’d like to read?

Note: Quotes taken from an ARC – finished copy may be different.

Linking up with Bibliophile by the Sea