Saturday, February 7, 2015

CONCLUDING PART - THE DREAM OF A DISTURBED MAN - With due apologies to the makers of the movie ‘PK’ and to one of the great short stories of Dostoevsky – ‘The Dream of a Ridiculous Man’


CONCLUDING PART  - THE DREAM OF A DISTURBED MAN - With due apologies to the makers of the movie ‘PK’ and to one of the great short stories of Dostoevsky – ‘The Dream of a Ridiculous Man’
That night DY kept me awake, telling me more about his planet and the way it had changed ever since PK returned. I let him have his say even as I fought of the sleep demons. My eyelids did droop from time to time but I was alert to what he was narrating; after all he would be gone the next day and I was also interested. Another consideration was that this was an alien himself in an alien land and I was concerned for I wanted to ensure that once he left my house he should be able to find his footing as fast as possible in the hostile environment that awaited him outside. In a sense I felt responsible. I had not factored in his alien intelligence, his special capabilities of reading other people’s mind and his powers of manipulation which I did suspect he must have picked up from PK (who I was sure had carried it back, as a takeaway after his sojourn on our Earth and imparted to his fellow Planetites).
DY said “You know we have been watching you guys from up there and have accurate data as to all the upheavals and advancements that have taken place here. But like I said we are a thousand years ahead of you in terms of evolution. We were once like you are now. We now live in peace and desire nothing; at least that was the case till PK returned from your Earth and planted a virus in our midst. There is fear that we shall once again revert back to those centuries of war, strife and domination, which ultimately ended in the Great War that nearly annihilated our entire race. In the process of rebuilding arose an awareness that survival depended on our emotional responses to our environment, be it a tree, an animal or a fellow being and living in harmony. The knowledge we sought was more for betterment of our lives together. All we sought was peace and not domination. You know we have no religion, temples, mosques or churches. God for us is the very air we breathe in and on death we believe we escape the trappings of this body which had become no longer fit enough to hold us back and merge with the larger picture. I want you to understand that we have kept God away from us as a fulfiller of wishes and as a dispenser of punishments. We do not need him in our daily lives as we have learnt to be happy and accepted life and death as part of a universal design.
At this stage I interrupted “But how do you ensure that your people stay together? There has to be some sort of administration or governance. Who is responsible to ensure the needs are met?”
“Oh, there is an elected Council of Elders, persons who have proven themselves in their chosen fields of activity and earned the respect of the people. There is no fixed term, some of the elders move out from time to time voluntarily to make way for others.”
As I listened to DY I felt more and more convinced that his was a planet that I would never opt to live in. What is life I thought, devoid of conflicts and from what DY told me there was no place for hope or faith as they were not needed. Wouldn’t life be so boring and meaningless if one were to be totally satisfied? Strange but that is the reality to which we are used to, and that is why we need these Gods, Godmen and Stones. Without them we are lost. “But if you are so happy out there why did you send PK down here in the first place?” I asked.
“You know PK was not the first. Nearly five hundred years ago one of our people did land up here. He had been part of the team that been monitoring your planet and had gathered enough information to know what was going to happen here in the next five hundred years or so. But he never returned. We did keep track of him and found that he had settled down as an Earthling and later became famous here for his predictions and you people till this day believe that all that he had said had come to pass and elevated him to the status of a prophet. It was a mystery to us as to why he never returned. That was one of the reasons why PK was sent, to find out the true reason” he said.
“Who was he? How was he known here?” I asked as a familiar name cropped into my mind.
“Oh, you people called him Nostrodammyou” he replied.
“In retrospect I now feel that sending PK down was a mistake. We are a planet where goodness rules. What started as a curious observation soon turned into concern. Yes, our goodness made us concerned about the way things were beginning to happen in your Earth. We could foresee the path you people would ultimately follow. Our model is based on the observations we have been making of your planet. You are headed towards a Great War which will result in near total annihilation here. May be we cannot change the course of destiny, but definitely you can be better prepared to handle it. That is why PK was sent to caution. We never expected that in the process he would be overwhelmed by what he saw and experienced. He returned infected with that virus of dissatisfaction. That is now spreading.”
“Well, what do you expect to do out here? Do you expect to find a solution to the present problems on your planet?”
“Frankly I do not know. The only way I see is to get PK back to this planet of yours and make him stay here permanently like Nostrodammyou”.
“And how do you think that would be possible?” I asked.
“As I see it there is only one way. You know that woman who was with him when he was here, my sources tell me that he had fallen in love with her. She is the only one who can make him return. Alas! I heard that she was in love with someone else and married him. PK returned a heartbroken man and I suspect that all this disappointment he carried back with him he spread it amongst our people as dissatisfaction. So I really do not know.”
“Don’t be disheartened. There’s good news. You see the marriage never really lasted. That was a doomed relationship from the start – conflict of faiths and a perpetual conflict between the two countries. In the end she must have thought that it would have been better if she had married the Alien, for whom she had also developed feelings and which crystalized only after he had left.”
“That’s good news. How do I find her?”

I must have at last dozed off sometime during his narration. I woke up with a start as the ringing of the doorbell pierced the silence of the morning. That must be the milkman, I thought. I got from my bed, but how come, the last I remembered was lying on the sofa in the living room listening to DY’s narration. There were sounds in the kitchen, what the hell was DY doing there? I slowly made my way to the kitchen to find out what was happening.
“So at last you decided to get up from bed. What’s wrong with you?”
“Me? When did you come back? I thought you were coming back by the evening flight?” I said.
My wife looked at me “Are you ok? Something is definitely wrong with you. I have not been anywhere. You have slept like a log for ten hours at a stretch; that is nearly half a day. The whole night you kept murmuring in your sleep and in the process kept me awake for most of the night. Let’s go to the doctor today, you have not been your usual self for the last one week since we went to that movie about the Alien. You still appear as if you are in a hangover.”
“But where’s DY?” I asked still reeling from the shock of seeing my wife standing in front of me.
“What DY? Is it a man or a woman? My God! Don’t tell me you are having an affair on the sly.” She nearly shouted.
“No, no DY is an alien like PK, you see.”
“Now I am sure” she said, “you need a shrink. You are out of your mind. I have told you again and again to look for some assignment after retirement to keep you occupied. You never listened. The only thing you have been doing is sit in front of the computer, watch movies and be perpetually on the phone talking to someone or the other. Daydream, Nightdream and what else? This is getting serious, we can’t wait any longer. I will get an appointment with doctor fixed for this evening itself.”
“Wait, wait listen to me. It was so real that I cannot still believe whether that was a dream or this conversation I am having with you. Well you can at least listen to what I have to say first” I pleaded.
As I finished retelling the events of the previous night, which to her was my dream and to me so real, she slowly got up and picked up her phone and rang up the doctor.
She turned to me and said “The doctor is out of town and is expected back only tomorrow, so the appointment is fixed for the day after. I am at a loss as to how to handle you for the next two days.”
I kept quiet for I did not really have anything to say. I sat down with my cup of coffee, picked up the day’s newspaper and switched on to my favorite channel ‘Times Never’ on the TV; a ritual ever since I retired. My attention was drawn instantly to the Newsreader’s special announcement –
“Tune in to your 9’oclock show tonight. We have something special and out of this world for you. It is our inimitable Arnold Ghostbaiter in conversation with DY. In case you are wondering who this DY is, all we can tell you now is, he is a cousin of PK from Planet X. PK as you all know created quite an upheaval here when he accidentally landed on Earth and quite a few of our politicians and Godmen were happy to see the back of him when he went back. What is DY’s mission now? To find out, tune in to ‘Times Never’ tonight. There never has been a channel like this and never will be”
My wife stood there, her mouth wide open and the only word that escaped her lips were “My God!”
And across the TV screen ‘Arnold Ghostbaiter in conversation with DY from Planet X at 9pm today’ beamed at us.

(May be I shall tell you about that some other time) 

Monday, February 2, 2015

I AM JUST AN ORDINARY MAN - BOOK REVIEW AND AUTHOR'S INTERVIEW BY WRITERS EZINE MAGAZINE - FEBRUARY 2015

I AM JUST AN ORDINARY MAN - BOOK REVIEW AND AUTHOR'S INTERVIEW BY WRITERS EZINE MAGAZINE - FEBRUARY 2015 



Book Review - I


:Intro:

Sir, you asked me who I am. What shall I say? I have been asking myself this question for quite some time and reached nowhere. After all I am no saint to throw away everything that I have and go in search of an answer. If I had, I would have been a saint. Don’t you agree? Well I have a name, but what’s in a name? You may call me an Ordinary Man.  

The narrator in a series of conversations with a friend who he says is his alter ego and through his own introspections, unfolds the process of growing up and aging through an exploration of all that had brought joy in living to serious questions regarding God, religion, destiny, freewill, compassion and to whether we have been really honest in our relationships; the relationships that have affected us at various stages in our life and continue to influence even our present living. They are all locked up somewhere within our private world and which we release and relish in our solitude.

Though ‘I am just An Ordinary Man’ is an autobiographical novel, it is only in parts that real events have been narrated to build a base for addressing the questions and the existential angst which arise in the mind of any person during the process of living and that the first step towards resolution is in acceptance of the reality of existence and the finality of death.

:Book Review:

1. Cover: One word to describe the cover – alluring! It is so enticing that it makes you want to know what is there inside.

2. Presentation: The presentation of the book is very easy going, like a conversation with a friend that has been captured within those few pages. The topics on which the conversations have happened aren't so easy going though. They are hard hitting facts of life, oft ignored.

3. Narration: Narration is simple, straight from the heart and yet manages to create an impact on the reader.

4. Characters: The lead character, the narrator definitely steals the show. He is the one who makes you sit up and take notice of many things.

5. Plot: The plot is very straight forward with no major twists and turns but that is what makes it the main highlight of the story. It is more on a conversational fashion which gives it a very endearing feel to the reader.

6. Storyline:  There is no story line so to speak but whatever narration has been connected has been done in a very splendid way making it a definite page turner as you want to know what the ordinary man is talking about next.
7. Story flow: The lucid story flow makes this book one that has a lot of aesthetic appeal. The topic on which the book has been written life and its lessons don’t need much of beautifications around to add to its grace. 

8. Language: The language is austere making it an easy going read for readers across all age groups.
9. Pros:  The biggest pro about this book would be its unique narrative style and the topics the author has managed to cover through this book. It is simple yet hard hitting, touching yet one that makes you want to ponder over a lot of things and most importantly it is subtle yet one that manages to leave an impact on you for long.
10. Cons: The only con in this book is the few places where the narrative gets a big dragged leaving the reader wanting to flip pages and move over to the next chapter. 




:Overview:

The overall rating for the book would be 4 out of 5 for the author’s narrative and of course for the unique style of narration in the book. This book is a slice of life from each one of our lives and makes us hear the silence whispers of our soul very beautifully.


WE team would like to thank the author for sending across this book for review and would also like to wish him all the best for all their future endeavours. 


Author Interview - I


When it comes to books WE team loves them and when it comes to review it becomes all the more special when it is one of our contributing author’s book. This month we have G S Subbu the author of I am just an ordinary man with us for a conversation.

GS.Subbu (Gopalasamudram Subramanian) is an avid blogger and writes regularly on his blog ‘Sublimation’ at subbusg.blogspot.com. His posts are a reflection of his deep passion for the arts, philosophy, religion and relationships. His writings depict a search for a meaning in life and how little things which appear inconsequential can contribute to a greater understanding and help us discover the joy of living. He has been a member of book clubs and done book reviews. Apart from writing on art in his blog he has given talks on ‘Appreciation of Art’ in some forums. Though ‘I am just an Ordinary Man’ is his first completed book, he has a compilation of his poems and other writings which he intends to publish subsequently.

An engineer from IIT Kharagpur, India by qualification and a Banker by profession, he now pursues his passion for writing after retirement. When not writing, he can be found trying to finish a painting in water colors or improving his singing skills.

The blurb of his book reads:
Sir, you asked me who I am. What shall I say? I have been asking myself this question for quite some time and reached nowhere. After all I am no saint to throw away everything that I have and go in search of an answer. If I had, I would have been a saint. Don’t you agree? Well I have a name, but what’s in a name? You may call me an Ordinary Man.  

The narrator in a series of conversations with a friend who he says is his alter ego and through his own introspections, unfolds the process of growing up and aging through an exploration of all that had brought joy in living to serious questions regarding God, religion, destiny, freewill, compassion and to whether we have been really honest in our relationships; the relationships that have affected us at various stages in our life and continue to influence even our present living. They are all locked up somewhere within our private world and which we release and relish in our solitude.

Though ‘I am just An Ordinary Man’ is an autobiographical novel, it is only in parts that real events have been narrated to build a base for addressing the questions and the existential angst which arise in the mind of any person during the process of living and that the first step towards resolution is in acceptance of the reality of existence and the finality of death.


In conversation with Mr. G S Subbu,
1. Welcome to Writer’s Ezine and thank you so much for sparing your time for us. Talking about I am an ordinary man, tell us more about it.
‘I Am Just An Ordinary man’ is my debut novel. It is a novel that takes you through the process of growing, living, aging and tackling the questions that arise regarding the purpose of living and finding a meaning.The novel is written in the form of a conversation with a friend interspersed with monologues. The narration does not follow a pattern but keeps shifting from thepast to the present and back to the past, similar to the way our brain works, more by way of association with those small events that keep happening every day and those small things we hold dear to our heart.
2. How this whole idea got conceptualized? Was it something you always wanted or write and felt THIS was the time?
I always wanted to be an author. Since my interests were varied I never really got down to deciding on the subject matter. It was after my retirement and subsequent heart surgery that it began to crystallize. Looking back at my life I had to admit to myself that there had not been anything extraordinary about it, I had led a normal ordinary life. But I had a story to tell, my angst was real – an existential crisis, something that I believed everyone faces at some point in their lives. I can say that the entire concept fell into place during my recuperation after the surgery. To quote a few lines from my book –
“Like us all ordinary people, I have lived an ordinary life. I have done all that the others have done and at the end of the day when I evaluate my life, I find I have not made any lasting contribution that will make me live beyond my death. 
People will remember that there was one such who existed; a memory that would fade away in course of time into nonexistence. Don’t you think that is the way to go? It would be so difficult to go, leaving behind a trail of achievements. How does it matter when you have gone? You will be talked about as a memory and may be every year there will be a function to remember and honor you. May be you take with you the satisfaction of achievements to your grave. May be you shall die in peace. Nothing prevents the ordinary man to also die in peace. That shall happen when he realizes that ‘ordinary’ is also a satisfactory state of existence.”
3. Can this book be called as your autobiography?
Not really, it is only in parts that it is autobiographical. I talk to a friend who is a fictional character, though I do admit that he may be my alter ego and represents that portion of myself which could have been a possibility. The questions raised and the answers I seek are true for any person during the course of living. Again the last chapters of the book are all projections into the future and that is how I imagined it would be when one approaches the end. In the entire book no character is named, I leave it at that for I want my readers to identify themselves with the book and feel they are reading their own story. Moreover I state early in the beginning that I believe an autobiography can never be a complete story and can never be an honest submission. 
4. Do we see a sequel coming up to it soon, given the responses that it has garnered till now?
I am happy that I have connected with a lot of people and that has validated my assumption that it is every person’s story. Yes a sequel is in the offing, but not in the way of further explorations of my own world. Your own world becomes clearer to you only when it is complemented by your awareness of the external world. You can say that I move from the subjective to the objective world. Slices of life, you may say.
5. The book though has an autobiographical tone; it surely comes across more as a journey into one’s inner self, knowing the real meaning of life and a true awakening in every sense. Your thoughts on this.
Any journey into one’s inner self has to have the autobiographical element in it, so yes that is the path I took. I do not know if there is any real meaning to life in a general sense, each person searches and perhaps finds his own answer to the riddle that is life. When we talk of awakening, you can ask yourself when does it really happen? The ultimate awakening is when man is confronted by the temporality of his existence. It is the fear of termination that makes him seek ways and means to eternalize himself. This is when he moves towards God and religion and seeks solace and hope, or rebels against the situation, seeking an authenticity in his living. Though grounded in Hindu Philosophy, I recognize that the existential angst is very real and is present in every individual. How he tackles it, is a personal choice. Not everyone can be Buddha or a Ramana Maharishi. Whether it is the theistic Existentialism of Kierkegaard or the Atheism of Sartre both tackle the same question. While one offers hope the other points towards authenticity in living. Albert Camus’s ‘The Myth of Sisyphus’ and ‘The Rebel’ has influenced me a great deal. In this context I wish to quote Albert Camus in his monumental work ‘The Rebel’ – “An Awakening of conscience, no matter how confused it may be, develops from any act of rebellion and is represented by the sudden realization that something exists with which the rebel can identify himself – even if only for a moment.” I have tried to tackle these questions in my book, especially in the section on letters to God and in the concluding chapters of the book.
I found this portion from one of the reviews of my book to be very profound and did convey what I wanted to get across – “This is the life story of a person who through the fever and fret of life never ceases the search for the deep inner silence. He seems to understand that the search for meaning of life is ultimately pointless as it is left to oneself to give a meaning to it.” 
6. How difficult or easy it is to separate yourself from the author you – especially when you are narrating your own life and you don’t want to sound prejudiced or judgmental. How has been your experience in writing this book? Any particular chapters or instances you would like to discuss with us?
Like I said before, this is not a narration of my life story, though it does contain a part of my life. When I started writing, I wrote as myself, it was only later the author took over. I did not find it difficult for I wrote what I felt. I have learnt my lessons in life and it has not been easy. I have learnt to be less prejudicial and avoid being judgmental. I have, I think succeeded in doing that exactly in my book. I leave it open ended for the reader to find his own answers.
Writing the book has been like a journey to the roots of my consciousness. It has been most satisfying and has lent an authenticity to my existence. Every sentence I wrote brought me a step closer to that elusive ‘the meaning of life’.
The most important portion in the book is ‘Sublimation’, in fact the last sentence in that chapter sums it up – “There is no private world any longer as there is nothing inside now. I feel merged in an all-encompassing consciousness and realize that this is ‘Sublimation’”. Well you may interpret it as the end of a search for a meaning in life. The other portion which to me is very important is when I talk about the death of my father. That perhaps was the first transformation moment in my life. 
7. It is said, you are born twice on this earth. One when you are born and second time when you understand why. What do you think about these lines?
I do not agree with that, for I am not sure that anyone has really understood ‘Why’. Once you are born, your life becomes one long search for the ‘Why’. Once the search is over and the ‘Why’ becomes clear, you are freed from the bondage of living. Well that is what I personally believe. But I will supplement your statement with another quote “You only live twice – once when you are born and once when you stare death in the face” – an old quote from Ian Fleming’s ‘You only live twice’. 
8. How much of fiction has been mixed with reality to make this book what it is right now?
This is a real book about a person’s journey within himself though a portion of the events narrated are fictional, especially the role of the friend and the later chapters. This is only to enhance the import of what I want to convey and I wanted the reader to feel it is his story. In that sense I would call it fictional reality if I may be allowed to use that word.
9. Can you take our readers through your journey of being a published author? Has anything changed post that, something like the before and after phenomenon?
Writing has been easy for me and I found that I evolved as a writer after I started getting active on my blog. I learnt to connect with readers in course of time and I can now say that I do have a dedicated readership. When I decided to write the book it began as a journey and only later did the thought of getting it published occur. 
My own experience could well highlight the travails of aspiring authors. I first experimented with self-publishing with one of the major houses and left it midway as I thought pitching to a traditional publishing house would help me evaluate the value of my manuscript better. I did submit it to five of them. There was no reply from three even after a lapse of four months. The fourth was courteous enough to say that they will not be able to fit it due to constraints in their existing calendar.The fifth publisher did accept the manuscript for publication and placed it as ‘Projects under consideration’ stating it would be taken up when the commissioning editor deems fit. They were also very courteous enough to add that a book under consideration with them could get published within weeks or in a few years. I did wait till my patience wore out. Then I decided to go back to where I started from – Self-Publishing. But in the entire process I have learnt a lot not only from my own experience, but also from the hurdles faced by some of my friends when they published their books. The constraints of finance does make you compromise on some issues like editing and marketing. Professional editing is costly and how much reach can you really expect through your friends and social media contacts for selling your book. I was also awake to the fact that there would be more number of likes on Face book than the number of books sold.
Still in the end there is a sense of satisfaction that I have actually made my dream in to a reality. The entire process has now made me a more confident writer and I feel happy when people tell me that they liked the book
10. What is the message that you want to convey through your this book?
It is very simple. There cannot be a general formula to tackle the questions and the existential angst which arise in the mind of any person during the process of living, as the problems faced are ultimately subjective and the answers are within each individual. The first step towards resolution is in acceptance of the reality of existence and the finality of death. It is only when a person comes face to face with nothingness that he searches for ways to immortality, either through a belief in God, reincarnation and religion or through leading an authentic life.
11. We would like to know about any future projects you are currently working on.
I am already half way through my next book and as I said before this is more in the nature of an exploration of the external world. Each chapter is a ‘Slice of life’ and narrates my encounters with different lives. I may again dub it as a fictional reality.
12. Some words for your readers.
I will only say that this is your book, written for you with the hope that you will be able to recognize and identify with the events that take place in your life. 
Thank you very much for your time

Saturday, January 17, 2015

PART 2 - THE DREAM OF A DISTURBED MAN – with due apologies to the makers of the film 'PK' and to Dostoevsky and his ‘The Dream of a Ridiculous Man’


PART 2 - THE DREAM OF A DISTURBED MAN – with due apologies to Dostoevsky and his ‘The Dream of a Ridiculous Man’
I stared at DY for some time, “You mean you do not have the means of returning back to your planet?” I asked in exasperation, now convinced that I was stuck up with him and wondering how I could shake him off and get away as quickly as possible from the place.
It was as if he had read my mind, he said “Oh don’t worry, I am not that dumb. You see when PK brought the idea of clothing ourselves he had not anticipated that we could, apart from covering our nakedness, hide many other things as well.” So saying he dug into the pockets of his trousers and took out what resembled a mobile phone and said “I hid this when I was put on that vehicle to transport me here.”
“So how is it going to help you” I asked.
He handed it to me so that I could have a closer look. It was black in color and as smooth as a pebble and of a size that would fit smugly in the palm of your hand. Except for a small round display screen which could accommodate just a finger, the rest of the object was opaque.
He said “It is called a Communicator in our planet. One has to just place his finger and think of the person you want to communicate with and you are connected.”
“But how do you talk to him? I cannot see anything that resembles a microphone or a speaker. Something like this” I said pulling out my mobile phone and showed it to him. He took it in his hands, examined it and returned it to me with a condescending smile.
“You guys are way behind by a thousand years. I told you that in our planet we do not have a language. It was only PK who brought it back with him from your planet and in the process set us back by a thousand years. You see I do not need to speak to communicate, I just need to place my finger on this small display screen and think of the person I want to communicate with and I will be connected. He would be able to read my thoughts and vice versa. You must be aware that thought travels faster than the speed of light, very many times in fact.”
“So how is this going to help you get back? You said you have been banished” I asked him, over emphasizing on ‘how’ in my eagerness to be assured that I would not be stuck up with him permanently.
He however caught on and replied “Oh don’t worry I will be going back as soon as I achieve my objective. You see, in a sense I allowed myself to be banished so that I may come over here and study how you earthlings shift allegiances – from one God to another. I am part of a rebel group, in fact their leader, who are dissatisfied with the rise of PK and the resultant confusion he has brought into the lives of the people our planet. You know this communicator is highly personalized and can respond only to the finger prints of the owner. It’s useless in another’s hand. I shall be transmitting whatever I gather to my group members over there.”
As I sat there wondering what his next move would be, he asked “Where can I get some carrots, please? I am feeling hungry.”
“Why carrots, you can have something else if you are hungry.
“You don’t understand, ever since PK brought back those sacks of carrots with him, it has become the staple food on our planet. You can find carrot farms all over the place and people munching carrots everywhere. It has become an addiction. Now the only things that have been growing are carrots and people’s ears. As it is, we as a race have long pointed ears, but now there is the danger of us becoming rabbits.”
“Look here, if you are really that hungry I can get you something to eat from a roadside food stall on the way for that is the only one which will be open at this hour” I said, making it obvious that I did not intend taking him home and feeding him.
But then what I feared happened, he asked me “Can I stay with you for the night, I am new here and you cannot expect me to sleep on the beach, please?”
Now I knew I was truly done for. Being of a tender disposition I could not bring myself to refuse. Luckily my wife was away visiting our daughter and so I with great reluctance said “Ok, but just for this night only.”
“Don’t worry, I will be able to find my bearings tomorrow and will leave.”
It was nearly eleven at night when we reached my place. On the way I had bought him a plate of bread and omlette for that was the only thing available, which he ate with relish. He walked alongside till we reached my house; all the while silent and trudging along in that stiff gait like PK, which I presumed to be a particular trait of all the inhabitants of their planet. Luckily there were not many people around and the few we came across did look back, at I presume what they thought was an odd couple.
As soon as we reached and I had opened the door, I could hear the ringing of the landline phone. It was my wife and from her voice I could guess that she was pretty upset. She literally shouted on the phone “Where the hell have you been and why have you switched of your mobile? I have been trying to get through to you for the last one hour. You got us all worried over here, in fact we were planning to ring up our neighbor and check out what’s happened.”
I realized that when I had handed over my mobile to DY, he had inadvertently switched it off. It took me some time for me to calm my wife and then related to her the happenings of the night.
“What, you brought a nude man back home?” she roared.
“No, no, he came fully dressed, not like PK. You see PK had already taught them to dress up properly. Don’t worry it’s just a matter of one night. He will be gone tomorrow.” I said trying to calm her.
“Well he better be gone. I am returning home tomorrow and I don’t want him over there when I come back. My God! An alien in my house, that’s the last straw.” She banged the phone down.
I turned back and saw DY looking at me with an impish smile “Women” he said “they are the same everywhere”

TO BE CONTINUED


Monday, January 12, 2015

THE DREAM OF A DISTURBED MAN – with due apologies to Dostoevsky and his ‘The Dream of a Ridiculous Man’


THE DREAM OF A DISTURBED MAN – with due apologies to Dostoevsky and his ‘The Dream of a Ridiculous Man’
PART 1
With due apologies to the makers of the movie ‘PK’ and to one of the great short stories of Dostoevsky – ‘The Dream of a Ridiculous Man’
Last night I went for a walk along the seashore. It was late and there were very few people around, in fact you could say it was desolate. Why I chose such an hour for a walk is beyond my comprehension, it was just an impulsive action. But anyway I do concede that it was perhaps my disturbed state of mind which was responsible. Why disturbed, you may ask. Well ever since I saw that movie ‘PK’ three days ago I have had recurring dreams of flying away to a distant planet and not knowing how to return back home and to top it all I was all naked (in the dream of course, in case you start to let your imagination run wild). I would suddenly wake up and find that I was safe and sound in my own bed, with my clothes on. I did switch on the light and examined myself in front of the mirror to ensure that my ears were of the normal shape and my eyes were my very own dark brown eyes.
I sat on a bench under one of those neon lights, looking across at the vast sheet of water rising and falling and the silver streaks of reflection of the moon above dancing to their rhythm, when I saw a bright object travelling at great speed across the sky in the distance. For a moment I thought that it was a plane, but it was too big and too fast to be one. I decided that it could be a meteorite, but then it seemed to halt in its path and slowly started its descent. It landed a hundred meters away from me on the sand. The object was a huge ball about fifty meters in diameter. As I watched partly in fright and partly in wonder, a door opened near the underbelly of the object and a figure slowly descended from a ladder. As soon as the figure touched the sand the ladder was pulled up and the door closed. the object then rose up slowly, the same way it had landed and the next instant there was only this flash of light and the only sound that emanated was ‘whoosh’ and it had vanished.
As I stared at the figure, it moved towards where I was sitting. Initially when it was in the shadows, I could make out only the dark outline of something which resembled a human being but with a predominantly large and pointed ears very much ‘Spocklike’ (in case you wonder – Spock of Star Wars fame). It was only when it came and stood in front of me under the light did I immediately recognize it. “My Gosh!” I said to myself, “that’s PK”. I continued to stare at him, dumbfounded. I was confused for this guy was fully clothed, in fact as colorfully dressed as PK was when he decided to return. “Thank God, for that” I said to myself “Can’t imagine finding oneself on the seashore late at night with a naked man. Ugh!”
“Hello” he said “is this China?”
“No, this is Chennai” I replied “May I ask, who you are?”
“S—t, these guys back in control room again got their spellings and co-ordinates mixed up. Well you asked my name? You can call me Dostfromsky. You know very well, that is if you had met PK, back in our planet we do not have names.”
“What sort of name is that and how did you suddenly decide on it?” I asked.
“Well when PK came back he brought a few things he had picked up from you guys here – language, dress and how to lie. So you see I know your languages as well. Dost means friend, isn’t it, in Hindi? The rest is English I guess. So you get it –‘Friend from the Sky’. Well what’s your name?”
“Can I just call you DY that would be easier? You may call me GS that would be better.”
“What’s your full name, I guess it would have a meaning.”
“I don’t know, but it would be a long story so forget it” I replied.
“Don’t worry, just let me hold your hand that would be enough.” So saying, he grabbed my hand as in a handshake and for a minute I felt a current passing through my whole body.
“I got it” he said “but you also speak a strange language.”
For a moment I was uneasy wondering what dark secrets he had unearthed.
“It’s not a strange language. It is Tamil one of the many national languages of this vast country and perhaps the oldest. This is the language of Chennai, so you better not call it strange. Your PK never bothered to come down south here (except perhaps through the movie screens). If you ask me your PK returned to your planet with insufficient knowledge. The whole time he spent here searching for his remote control to return back home he went around exposing Babas prancing around with babes, while he ultimately left covering himself. If you don’t call that hypocrisy, then what is? There is more to this planet than all the ‘B’s.”
DY was silent for some time and then he started speaking “In a sense I empathize with you. Why do you think I have come down here? The return of PK has unleashed chaos on our planet. He came back fully clothed hiding his nakedness, he said. You know till he came back we never felt that we have to be ashamed of our bodies. He taught us to hide behind clothes and our emotions behind lies. He taught us that it is necessary to have a language to communicate. This has only led to misinterpretations and misunderstandings among the populace who now have started fighting among themselves for petty things. When he first returned he said how on this planet of yours people created Gods whom they worshipped not understanding that it was the other way around. He talked about the gullibility, stupidity and the exploitation that is rampant on your planet and that you worshipped idols as Gods and called it religion.”
“So what happened afterwards in your planet?”
“Well in course of time the people looked up to PK as a messiah. You can find his pictures and idols at various places and in short PK is now God.”
“Then how come you landed up here?” I asked.
“See, I was one of the doubters and so I have been banished and sent away from there and the worst place PK thought would be here. I have been sent here without a remote control so that I cannot return.”  

(TO BE CONTINUED)

Sunday, December 28, 2014

MEMORIES WERE MADE OF THESE

 MEMORIES WERE MADE OF THESE

Today I decided that I would dump all my old belongings, of course it was my wife who took the decision. The decision did not include dumping each other and so you see we are still together. Well you may ask – why such a drastic decision? The truth is that we were hemmed in on all sides and it was becoming difficult to breathe. You may again ask why now and so suddenly? I have an answer to that also – the New Year was around the corner and that is when everyone resolves to make new resolutions. So what happens to all the resolutions you made the end of the previous year for this present year? Well dump them for you have no options left now as the time has run out.

We live in a small flat but sometimes the thought crosses my mind that we should have gone for a bigger one instead at the time when the prices were low. What’s the point cribbing about it now! Then, I had just enough money after taking a loan from the bank and some personal savings to buy the place where we now stay. When I had some more money the prices had also gone up making it impossible for me to think otherwise. But whenever someone asks me this question, I just say that the value of my house has appreciated more than thirty times in the last two and a half decades and proceed to point out that it was the only wise investment that I had made in my life (apart from my wife of course). What was once a deserted suburb has now become a hub of commercial activity and though I like calmer climes I have no choice, for even if I decide to sell this flat and more over to farther suburbs where it is possible to get the ‘quiet’ and a bigger place to stay (that sometimes crosses my mind), it wouldn’t be worth it for we are growing old and need to stay where we are closer to what we are used to. So you see I cannot dump my house. It stays along with my wife.

So you will ask me once again – why all this prattle, what did you ultimately decide to dump? That’s fair I guess because I started it all. Today my wife came to me when I was busy looking at my music collection – she said “Do you know there is a website called kuppathoti.com (literally translated in English as garbagebin.com)? They are ready to take whatever junk you have and you get paid for it. Why don’t you just check it up?”

As always when I am shaken out of my reverie it would take a few minutes for me to become conscious of my surroundings. The full import of what my wife had just said slowly descended into my consciousness. Strewn before me were the two hundred and odd music cassettes, a collection dating back three decades. My wife’s voice once again boomed – “So when was the last time you listened to any of them? I am sure that if you try to play them on that cassette player we have, you will hear only scraping sounds. Don’t you feel that we don’t need them anymore and can dump them along with the cassette player? After all you have told me that now you can download any music you want and store them on a pen drive or on the Ipod. It would save me a lot of bother dusting and storing the cassettes when I know they are not going to be used anymore.”

My wife is a sensible person and practical to the core. She of course never mentioned my huge stack of books or my LPs for she knew that was a touchy subject. Another consideration could have been that they were not as perishable as music cassettes and could always be considered as collector’s item.

I went back in time to a period when as a young man much into music and a newly found economic freedom (the aftermath of the first job) went about acquiring the things that I always wanted to have – a motor cycle, a stereo system, music LPs and ultimately a wife; for all practical purposes it was in that order. The others have been dumped while the last one endures.

I remember when back in school, I made my mother sit one day and tighten all my pants as with the advent of the Beatles and the aftermath of Elvis and Cliff Richards the drainpipes were the in thing. Of course we had our own desi James Bond, Jeetendra prancing and romancing his lady interest round and round every goddam tree in the vicinity in his skin tight pants in the movie Farz – the villains could never take the pants off him. I grew my hair long and believe me when I say it, for that is one thing that I have shed over the years and reached a stage where no change in hairstyle fashion would affect me. I remember my schoolmates especially my Anglo Indian friends who would spend considerable time styling their hair the Cliff Richard way – comb all the hair (properly oiled so that they stay in place) back over the head and then with a flick of the comb pull the front portion and make it dangle over their forehead; after all Cliff was an Anglo born in India. My head is now absolute and can never become obsolete. But came another period when the drainpipes gave way to bell bottoms. That was more difficult for you could never convert your drainpipes to bell bottoms, you had to stitch new pants and that cost. Well you had no choice but to fall in with the crowd. In the wedding reception photograph I can be seen fully suited with bell bottomed pants. The more it waved in the wind the more you were with the Joneses. After all it was Amitabh Bachhan who really set the trend with his long legs, the bell bottoms really swayed along with the audience every time he delivered a dialogue or kicked the villain. But I have a sneaky feeling that the bell bottoms were invented to cover long and skinny legs. Imagine a short guy wearing them, there will be no bottom only a bell. The coat, I never wore after that. Years later whenever there was a chill in the air my wife would dig it out for me to wear. I did wear it but never ventured out. This went on till I developed broader shoulders and some muscular structure (believe me once again when I say this). The only way I could insert my hands inside the sleeves was the back in front position. The wedding suit was preserved till the time our marriage was confirmed strong enough to dump it. Oops! The suit I mean. The moral of the story is that we dump our clothes ever so often to keep in tune with the changes in our perception of how we should present ourselves to the discerning eyes of the beholder. Again I have to clarify that this does not include all the times we dump our clothes when we go to the loo or to have a bath or to bed (Oops! There I go again. Pardon me). Well to cut the story about my clothes short, my wife said to me “your cupboard is stacked with clothes you don’t wear at all. You need only jeans T-shirts and Kurtas nowadays and of course shorts when you are at home. Why do you still keep all those branded full sleeve shirts and ties, the remnants of your working days? You are never going to be called for an interview or given a job any more. In fact you do not need anything more than shorts since you are mostly at home sitting in front of your latest paramour (She has a point when she says - why should we call a laptop a laptop when now there is so much written about the hazards of keeping it on your lap”. Of course I never replied, keeping what I wanted to say to myself – anything on a lap is hazardous – Oops! ---). Well ultimately I decided to abide by what has been said by Gita (hey I meant the Bhagavad Gita) – shed all attachments and proceed on towards realizing the self. I took the first step today, I cleaned out my cupboard – two thirds of it, and my wife was happy. She did not give up “Well tomorrow ring up Udhavum Karangal – Helping Hands and ask them to pick it up. We can at least finish the year with a good deed and start the next on a clean slate”. Tomorrow I shall say ‘The deed is done’.

I joined the club of smart people a few days ago. Don’t get the idea that I was a dumb ass all along and somehow enlightenment dawned on me and I became smart. I was along happy leading the unsmart life till now. It was simple and there were no additional demands on my slowly deteriorating mental faculties. Well, all that changed when my daughter bought me a new mobile phone after severely reprimanding me for clinging on to my antique mobile which had been with me for nearly six years, served me well, survived many a fall and fitted into my pockets smugly without any evident protuberances. “It’s time you got out of being an antique yourself. This is called a smart phone and it will help you keep upto date with what is happening around even when you are on the move”.

“You mean to say that I shall become smart if I have this? I think I have been smart enough till now and that will do”.

Well, what can one say about daughters! They always have their way in the end. So now I have a smart phone and I have been receiving complaints from my friends asking me as to why I keep cutting off their calls – you see I realized later that I have been swiping the wrong way. Well in the end I have now dumped my old mobile. But I did not throw it away. It has gone into that pile of other things I have been accumulating over the years – older mobiles, old cameras, watches, spectacles and pens. Well they stay for now. The day for dumping them may not be far off.


So now can you guess why I titled this ‘Memories were made of these’ and not ‘are’ made of these? These things have been dumped and so have your memories along with them. And then one day it shall happen – You get dumped.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

REBECCA

REBECCA





It was sometime in Aug 1975 nearly four decades ago when I visited the Salarjung Museum in Hyderabad and for the first time gazed at the statue of Rebecca I was awestruck by the sheer beauty of the marble sculpture and penned down a few lines of verse. That’s all I could do for I did not have a camera. When I look back and read what I had written I realize that it was an outcome of the impulsive romantic that I was at that time. I still enjoy reading it and relive that phase of my life. Now in December 2014 nearly four decades later when I went there again, I spent time standing there staring at the statue, but now I did not need words for I had a camera and so I captured what I saw. I was no longer the romantic who bid adieu with a heavy heart but someone who had realized that ‘A thing of beauty is a joy forever’  

Rebecca

Rebecca! Rebecca! I cry,
To her the veiled splendour,
My thoughts now fly.
There she stands clad in white,
Her beauty sheds a divine light.
Ah! There she smiles,
I can see through her veil,
In my heart an ache I feel.

Rebecca! Rebecca! Can’t you see,
For your love I long to be;
Your beauty so possesses me,
That now no longer am I free.
In this bondage I revel,
As I rest in this love’s cell,
And when softly I call your name,
You come to me,
To feed my flame.

Rebecca! Rebecca! I am aware,
For my love you may not care,
But this intense fervour of mine,
Shall speak of your face divine,
Your smiling lips, the caressing veil,
Your gentle feel,
Your silent grace.

Rebecca! Rebecca! I have come
Your true love to become,
But your smile I do not see,
And your stare is not at me.
My presence you do not feel,
Your vision thwarted by the veil.

Rebecca! Rebecca! Now I stand,
Love forlorn in front of you,
I make my way to distant land,

With a heavy heart I bid adieu.

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