Everything is clearer when you're in love- Lennon.

Close your eyes and I'll kiss you,

Tomorrow I'll miss you;

Remember I'll always be true.

And then while I'm away,

I'll write home every day,

And I'll send all my loving to you.

I'll pretend That I'm missing 

the lips I am missing

And hope that my dreams will come true.

And then while I'm away,

I'll write home every day,

And I'll send all my loving to you.

All my loving I will send to you.

All my loving, darling I'll be true.

Close your eyes and I'll kiss you,

Tomorrow I'll miss you:

Remember I'll always be true.

And then while I'm away,

I'll write home every day,

And I'll send all my loving to you

To the love of music, that has just sprung up, almost in sync with the lovely weather outside.

The devil

As she helped Sara lie down on the bed, her face bewitching her emotions, all she did was wait, for THE moment.


I've always been good to you, to everyone around me. Alas! Life hasn't been so fair to us, she mumbled.

Life
Isn’t death everything
Isn’t death everything
Isn’t death everything


..crooned Elton John in the distance. The gay bastard was so right. For her, Sara's death meant everything.
However ironic the song might be, Sara would never approve of shutting off the radio. She was sure, Sara would want the radio to go with her in the coffin [since she could smell Sara's death. Soon]. But the undying love and loyalty had always remained. Funny how people set up relationships with inanimate things. The materialistic ones, but more often then not, fail to have genuine love from the animated ones, like her. Sara seemed to have only invited her hatred. 
From the very start, the better one, the closet devil. The more-loved. The equally more-hated. 



Die when I may, I want it said of me, by those who knew me best, that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower, where I thought the flower would grow.


-Abraham Lincoln





Stupid Lincoln. It was not a flower that the dying hath planted, it was a thorn, of pure, rotting hatred.


Some water please!


She wouldn't mind taking the life off her, though she obliged.


After I die, do take care of my precious garden, I wouldn't want the roses to wither and die. My grave should be next to mother's with the same ivory craving. Not like I'd see it, she coughed some phlegm, but it would give my soul some sweetness to cherish, I'm sure. Do be a good person to all. 


She rambled on. Testing her patience, like every single time. Almost tempting her to retaliate with a few harsh words, or actions, not that she has ever done any, but how long could Sara instigate her like this. The elder, the better, the sweeter, the prettier. The one with the better husband, though dead. The one with beautiful children, though none here, not so soon, the one with a huge house, that she was allowed to live in. She, the barren, abused wife of a fucking bastard. Ah! The cruelty of life. 


She sighed, this time aloud. Took the pillow, and sucked out the remaining life off Sara. The devil had acted, after all.

The God Of Small things-a reader's viewpoint.

"Little events, ordinary things, smashed and reconstituted. Imbued with new meaning. Suddenly they become the bleached bones of a story."

So intricately woven is this book, that one gets caught in the complexity of human emotions and fears. On one side, where you have young innocent minds arrested between the thoughts of an absent father, always over-bearing elders, a mother who clearly loved them but was caught up in her own complex world, but more so, they were perhaps, silently amused by their own connection. On the other hand, you had a mother, who single-handedly bore the brunt of all her youthful mistakes, took the jibes in her stride, who was charmed by her twins' playfulness, who could barely suppress the emotions in her heart that threatened to transcend the societal distinctions. Arundhati roy, very effectively and poignantly braids a story that surpasses all the barriers created by the public and otherwise. When once done with the last page of the book, you find you mind and heart, alike, lingering back in the deepest recesses of the human mind that the book has to offer. 

In brief, the book transcends back and forth in the past and present and is based in the *hot, brooding* Ayemenem area set in Kerala. It talks of a pair of fraternal twins, Rahel and Estha, who are separated at the age of seven and reunited when they are 31. The book is written from the point of view of the children and tackles the issues of communism, caste and the Keralite christianity, as seen through their eyes. The book, at large, is benignant to the emotions of the twins, as they suffer indifference at the hands of their relatives, owing to their Ammu's (mother) and Baba's (father) separation and also due to their friendly encounters with Velutha, their helper and also an untouchable. The primary theme of the book is love. The love Ammu bears for her twins, though she knows that times are to get difficult and she will have to forgo with one of them. The love that silently brews between Ammu and Velutha, which is clearly forbidden. In the abeyance of the silent nights, the beating hearts often looked for a gateway to be one. Arundhati roy has also mentioned the political realities in India, through satirical snippets. She is also critical of the traditional hypocrisy of Ammu's parents. 

The novel also brings to light the forbidden love that grows between the twins, Rahel and Estha. As twins, they always stood connected in a silent, unassertive way. When they re-unite after years of separation at the age of 31, wherein both have grown up to be silent, pained souls, it is perhaps their silence that speaks for them. In the end, it shows their love culminating into incest, which is forbidden love, alright. 

The beauty of Kerala, plays an important character in the book as well, as Arundhati Roy often draws her childhood memories of the place to create situations. As it shows in these lines..

"May in Ayemenem is a hot, brooding month. The days are long and humid. The river shrinks and black crows gorge on bright mangoes in still, dustgreen trees. Red bananas ripen. Jackfruits burst. Dissolute bluebottles hum vacuously in the fruity air. Then they stun themselves against clear windowpanes and die, fatly baffled by the sun.
The nights are clear, but suffuse with sloth and sullen expectation."

All In all, it was a Booker Prize well deserved.

That love.

All of us figured out at the time Krishna fell in love. It was pretty obvious, and as we lived across the street, we could see things, that her family couldn’t. You see, they were blinded by trust. She’d return with him on his cycle, their arms entwined. The elders told her that Steve ain’t a nice guy. These goras were all hot-blooded, and they were known to get dirty with so many women, you couldn’t count. But Krishna wouldn’t listen to any of us. What more could anyone say?

The air was fuelled by tension. It was the time of partition. Independence didn’t seem so far away. One could have expected exhilaration around, since two hundred years of slavery was about to end. But then the political turmoil was engulfing one and all. I heard it in the radio the other day that Jinnah and the Congress are at loggerheads.  There was curfew all around, and the Hindu- Muslim tension was palpating. Our village was relatively untouched by the riots, given its remote location, but when and where things could go awry, only time could tell. Amidst all this tension, the blossoming love story went relatively unnoticed. How Krishna and Steve would escape to the empty shack by the sea, nobody knew. Their romance grew in the backdrop of the lapping waves. I saw them running there, trying to be as subtle as possible. But I wouldn’t tell. My mother never liked Krishna, but I always liked the girl. She was something, I wish I could be, and if she was in love, so be it. Secretly, I always supported their romantic endeavour, but dare I say that loud.

It was the 20th july, late night, I believe. All of us were retreating to slumber after the reporter gave us the last piece of news on the radio. Suddenly, we heard a commotion across the street.   Krishna’s father was screaming furiously at the top of his voice. All the neighbours had gathered around them, and I couldn’t really understand what was happening.

The next day, mother was busy mumbling to herself.

“ Serves her right. Filthy girl, is this the way to behave. Bringing your family’s honour on the street”.

“What happened, maa?”

“She was caught, in her own house, in her own bedroom, doing what not with that gora fellow. How could she?”

I felt really bad for the two. They seemed to do well together, and I knew Krishna’s father would never let them be together again. All during the day, Krishna’s house presented a gloomy picture. That made me sad.

The next day, I woke up to find an empty house. Maa had gone to Krishna’s house, and I saw her consoling Krishna’s mother, who was wailing. Krishna had eloped with Steve. She wrote saying that that is where her happiness lay. I thought she did right, but I stayed mum.

Our village stayed untouched by the riots. The few ripples that were created by the innocent love could still be seen. True love in the backdrop of the riots was such a pretty thought. I wished the elders would understand. As for me, I still stay mum, often going back to the love that I witnessed, which I’m sure is blossoming somewhere still. 

P.S. the pic is from a movie called Before the rains, starring Nandita Das and Rahul Bose. I'd label it as a must watch. 

The Girl

His usual spot, his monotonous job. Belting out songs that weren't his, being hooted at, and the worst of all, observing the dirty side of the so called elegant class.

Well, when you're low, trust the beatles to lift you up. *

I saw a film today, oh boy
The English army had just won the war
A crowd of people turned away
But I just had to look, having read the book
I'd love to turn you on

"Hey mate, how about some zing?"

"Shut the fucking song up"

Well, 'twas but the usual.             

Perhaps, is was a whiff of intuition that made him look at the door.

She entered with an air of arrogance, sashayed across the room, made sure everyone was looking at her, men and women alike, and settled at the bar, unassumingly.

 She ordered a drink for herself, and sat, unaware of the ripples she had created in many a heart. Sensuously, her long legs slid under the table. Oh! What a beauty. He could imagine the rapid blood flow in the veins of all the wanting men in the room.

Is there anybody going to listen to my story
All about the girl who came to stay?
She's the kind of girl you want so much
It makes you sorry
Still, you don't regret a single day
Ah girl
Girl

Her eyes searched the room, every corner, every face. Not resting on a single lucky soul for more than a second. He wanted her glance, oh, so bad.

And she looked at him, and how! Her naughty eyes, played with his heartbeates.

I give her all my love
That's all I do
And if you saw my love
You'd love her too
I love her

He crooned. Her luscious pout twirled into a smile. An inviting one.

She gives me everything
And tenderly
The kiss my lover brings
She brings to me
And I love her

She rose, like a queen, and moved, softly. It seemed the air was moving with her. Her sumptuous curves moved in an epicurean fashion. Tempting, tantalizing, inviting. Her hair kept teasing him, his fingers went rhythmically on the guitar string, listless to play with her strands. She induced many sinful emotions in the hearts of the men, all incited to touch her once. Her heavenly beauty allured the gods, too. He was so sure of that.

A love like ours
Could never die
As long as I
Have you near me

Bright are the stars that shine
Dark is the sky
I know this love of mine
Will never die
And I love her

She stopped, turned towards an alluring picture of manhood, her long slender fingers touched him tenderly on his face, and they left, teasingly. Little did she know, she had left a man in love.


*This line, was made my a dear friend, Priya Sharma. How apt!

Beyond the words-Khaled Hosseini

“Some things I can teach you. Some you learn from books. But there are things that, well, you just have to see and feel."

So,the line goes in A Thousand splendid suns. Sometimes, how much ever we hear, how much ever we read, we may not understand the depth. One has to feel it.  

Afghanistan, a country, often ignored. In its oblivion, it has seen pain, anguish, unstability, war, and cruelty of the highest kind. Where the rest of the world, enjoyed the luxuries that modern living had to offer, the Afghans were deprived of their basic right of living. And there comes a writer, who impressively weaves the two most beautiful stories, I've read.  Based on this very same country. So intriguing, his words, and so beautifully compassionate is the story, you want to pack your bags and make the first trip. Oh! Screw the unstability.

Khaled Hosseini, not in the country where his heart belongs, presently, leaves little for imagination. He lifts you up, and places you on the streets of Afghanistan.Where you can hear Pashto and Farsi. Where you can see Burqa clad women, scurrying around. You can feel the atmosphere, by just sitting in your room and holding the book in your hand. Thats the basic essence of his writing. You feel for the charachters. You quietly shed tears when they're in anguish, and you can feel their innocence. He does not take sides in his books, he lets you do that. His writing style has such a stoic intensity, that it makes you want to sit up and wish you could do something for the country, once beautiful, and rich, and now in ruins.

The Kite Runner...
 “There was brotherhood between people who had fed from the same breast, a kinship that even time could not break.”

Amir and Hassan's story, through the changing political scenario in Afghanistan is a heart-wrenching story of friendship, betrayal, and ever-lasting loyalty. Hassan,a lowly Hazara, the step-brother to the rich Amir, a Pashtun, a secret concealed all through their childhood, who imbibes the pure and noble traits of Baba, Aamir's father. The first word that Amir said when he was born was Baba, and Hassan, Amir. And that was how it was to remain all their life. Amir would want to do anything to please his father and Hassan, forever remained loyal to Amir.

"I had been the entitled half, the society-approved, legitimate half, the unwitting embodiment of Baba's guilt. I looked at Hassan, showing those two missing front teeth, sunlight slanting on his face. Baba's other half. The unentitled, under-priveleged half. The half who had inherited what had been pure and noble in Baba. The half that, maybe, in the most secret recesses of his heart, Baba had thought of as his true son."

The book talks of cruelty, the betrayal Hassan faces from the hands of the one person he loves and adores. The language, so rich, that your heart goes out to Hassan. You marvel at the innocence of the kids, unaware of the changes happening in their country, and the book clearly manages to tell the story of how its always the good that triumphs, irrespective of how powerful the enemy is. Years later, when Aamir leaves a well settled life in America to go to the Taliban-infused Afghanistan to rescue Hassan's blood, Sohrab ,you want to smile with satisfaction.

A thousand splendid suns

“Learn this now, and learn it well, my daughter: Like a compass needle that points north, a man’s accusing finger always finds a woman. Always. You remember that, Mariam.”

Khaled Hosseini, talks in this book of the immense cruelty that the women in Afghnistan have to go through. Whether its the Pre-Taliban era, or during it, women were always considered lowly. With some quotes, that will definitely pull your heart strings, you have to shed a tear,

“Only one skill. And it’s this: tahamul. Endure.”

Mariam, the woman,who goes through immense pain, of being illegitemate, of being married off, without her consent, of being married to a man, who needed no reason to beat her to pulp, who married a girl, fit to be his daughter when Mariam was in her prime. She finds comfort in Laila, the girl, who inspite of having a very free childhood, has to marry Mariam's husband in unforseen circumstances. Together,the two women go through a painful, sometimes pleasant, mostly anxious journey. The book, gives this underlying message that it is the women of Afghanistan who have to bring change.

In a few years, this little girl will be a woman who will make small demands on her life, who will never burden others, who will never let on that she too has had sorrows, disappointments, dreams that have been ridiculed. A woman who will be like a rock in a riverbed, enduring without complaint, her grace not sullied but shaped by the turbulence that washed over her.

This is the Afghan woman, tender, but hardened by time.
Khaled Hosseini is one of the few Afghans, who's rid himself of the old-world mentalilty, who craves for nothing but change in his homeland, for develoment in the country once rich in culture. He vividly manages to capture that craving. And not only that, he pulls you into his web of thoughts. Beauty beneath the words, thats Khaled Hosseini for you.

Adams,unplugged

It wasn't a chance hearing to some random music channel that got me hooked to this music sensation.I wasn't even thought about when the teenagers of another era were grooving to the summer of 69.I was in the 4th grade,that was the year 2001 when my father made me listen to this Canadian rockstar.It was the time of the Backstreet boys,Westlife and Peter Andre.It was my father who slowly exposed me to the Beatles,Michael Jackson,George Michael and subsequently Bryan Adams.He got me this CD of Bryan Adams Unplugged and I was so hooked.
There's this quality in his voice.Its raw,sort of inperfect which got me totally floored.And since then,he has been one of my most favourite artists of all time.My taste in music has changed.I don't listen to the Backstreet boys or Brtiney Spears anymore.I'm into the Poets of the Fall.But nothing has changed the love I feel for Bryan Adams' music.Its got an old school feel to it.With songs like the Summer of 69,Back to you,When you love someone,I'm ready,All for love,Straight from the heart,This time,One night love affair,which were the notable ones,left me enthralled.

And baby,you're all I want

When you're lyin' here in my arms

I'm finding it hard to believe

We're in heaven...

And love is all I need

And I'm finally there in your heart

It isn't too hard to see

We're in heaven

When he crooned thus in Heaven,its hard not to fall in love with this man's voice.

OR...

When he goes all romantic in..

I swear to you

I will always be there for you

there's nothing I won't do..

If you're a girl,and if you have a guy singing this to you..

To really love a woman
To understand her
You gotta know her deep inside
Hear every thought
See every dream
And give her wings when she wants to fly

And when you find yourself
Lying helpless in her arms
You know you really love a woman 

Its hard to not be floored.

But as much as you love Bryan Adams for his soft rock,its hard not to love him for his off-the-edge songs.The most famous one being 18 till I die..

I wanna be young the rest of my life
never say no - try anything twice
til the angels come and ask me to fly
I'm gonna be 18 til I die

The most amazing quailty about a Bryan Adams song is,how refreshing each song is from the other.

And the most endearing quality about Bryan Adams,the celebrity is,that apart from making amazing music,he's a brilliant song-writer,he's impressive with the guitars.

And a fact that many don't know,he's an acclaimed photgrapher,and a dedicated philanthropist,working for many a cause.

If you love music,you should be giving Bryan Adams a hear.

Isn't it a mere coincidence that the post coincides with Bryan Adams announcing that he will be touring India in February.The last time he had come,and I couldn't make it coz I had no tickets,and exams on my head,I had promised myself that there's no way,I'm letting him go the next time he comes.And I will stick to my promise this time around.