Nostalgia

As she appeared across the lawn out of nowhere, I stood there transfixed. She was a picture of beauty. A shadow fell on her face, making it impossible to decipher her expression. I kept wondering if she saw me. I was enraptured. What was it about her that made her so enchanting to everyone she met? She was like a magic spell - surreal, but potent. I could never completely understand her. She was an enigma to me.

How Ananya made inroads into my life and my heart in so less a time, I could never fathom. I would tell her everything I ever had on my mind; she would listen patiently to my talks. She was the eyes into my soul; she knew more of me than I knew myself. My earnest observation of her was a major source of my understanding of her thoughts and personality, as she'd never give out much on her own. I observed everything she did or said, for every action of hers had a reason behind it, every word of hers well-founded. We would talk endlessly on almost everything under the sun. We would agree on some points, argue on some other. But I would ultimately quit arguing, because one could almost never win over her. She always had the last word. Not that I ever complained. She broke into an innocent giggle every time I put in my guns. To beget even that little smile meant the world to me, and more.

She was a ray of morning sunshine on the horizon; a real delight to be with. There was an aura of happiness, wholesomeness and contentment about her that lured everybody into its grasp. She could turn all my worries into nothing, and amplify the joys manifold. There was an inexplicable look of satisfaction on her face – to me it seemed like that of knowing everything yet revealing little. She could always tell what I had on my mind, but would never make me uncomfortable with unnecessary prying and prodding. But surprisingly, more often than not, I'd find myself bound to tell her all my travails, as if she had a magnetic grip on my mind. She would understand everything I told her, and would follow it up with such careful and sound advice, as would make me feel like my problems never really were of any consequence. Such was her effect on me that it sometimes baffled me into believing she practiced black magic. But like I said, I never really understood her. I just revered her for all that she was.

Her eyes constantly lived in a dream. Her words went far deeper than they would appear to the listener’s mind. Her exquisite face was a brilliant cover for her true thoughts and feelings. But her clear hazel eyes revealed what her words never did. She always hid her pain and sorrows behind her perpetual smile and joyful demeanour. To anyone else, she would seem not to have a single unhappy bone in her body. But I saw through her layers. On normal days, she'd have a splendid countenance. There was a ring to her voice, a shine to her smile and a rhyme to her actions. She would sing and dance her way through work, and recount the day’s events to me with full spirit at the end of the day. On such days, I felt such a rush of happiness and contentment through my veins that I could die of it and still not mind. But she had her dark days too, and it took every last drop of patience in my body to get through those. She’d brood over every single thing, take offense on anything even remotely untoward, and in general present a picture of utter dissatisfaction with life, very unlike her true self. It was of such days that I was dead scared. She formed the very thread of my existence; I could never bear to see her out of sorts. I would try my best to pacify her, mellow down her moods, try to figure out her wishes and fulfil them as best as I could. Yet I feel I managed to do a very poor job of it in the end. It was a gargantuan task to assimilate her, yet totally unthinkable not having her as a part of my life. What would I ever do without her? I'd always shudder at the thought.

*

Sunrays seep in through the partially open window, falling in a slant on the little one sprawled on the floor, busy playing with her crayons. The sight reminds me of her mother's childlike love for new stationery. She walks up purposefully and thrusts her sketch book into my face, her hazel eyes revealing that 'look' she knows all too well I can never refuse to. Her earnest exuberance is infectious. I smile through moist eyes.

Ananya's absence is a void in my heart that time can only attempt to fill. She lit up every day of my life for as long as she breathed; twilight or dawn, she never left my side. She did not let me be alone even in her wake, leaving behind a tiny little bundle of joy to light up my days and warm my cold heart. The little one is a splitting image of her beautiful mother, and equally full of life and energy; I cannot look at her lovely face without pangs of nostalgia tugging at my heart. All of a sudden I'm back in that moment when I first saw her across the lawn. That was when I first felt love. And the feeling still survives.

I envelop our little angel in my arms and rock her to sleep.

~

[As some of my readers may have noticed, this is an edited, refurbished version of my earlier fiction piece Eyes to My Soul, the first in a series of five, but with a different plot and context. I submitted this version as my entry for a fiction story contest some months back, with the theme 'Nostalgia'. Thought of posting it here as well now!]

Book Review: English Bites! - Manish Gupta

It feels awkward to return to writing after more than four months and not have anything very insightful to share. I've been working just too hard and spending too less of a time on anything else, so the creative juices have almost stopped flowing. But I shall make a comeback - very soon.

Right now, I am reviewing a book that the author was so kind as to send across to me a long while back, and thankfully also has been very accommodating in letting me have my time in reading and reviewing it.

English Bites! My Fullproof English Learning Formula by Manish Gupta (a smooth-talking banker, in his own words) is not your run-of-the-mill fictional novel or a biography or an auto-biography. It's an honest attempt at making the English language more accessible and interesting to anyone who has difficulty learning it or who needs to brush up his/her English for competitive examinations like the GRE and GMAT. A latent function the book also very conveniently serves is of helping seasoned English speakers brush up their vocabulary and learn the etymologies of and relations between various words.

English Bites is primarily an attempt to make English learning an interesting and exciting exercise, and not something that one is compelled to do out of sheer need. Through his own life story - starting off from his schooling in the vernacular medium and gradually charting his years of painstaking effort at mastering the language - the author has embedded difficult and commonly misunderstood words throughout the narrative and mentioned their meanings and examples in the footnotes for easy reference of the readers. He has thus invented a fun way of helping those with the least interest or perceived aptitude for English, to start taking interest and find it more and more easy and do-able as they flip through the pages. He has written the book in the form of an account and thrown in many instances and anecdotes that amuse the reader and also drive home his point in many cases.

The author has touched upon almost all the techniques and tricks that can be used to get better at the language - Mnemonics, etymological approach, relating words to anecdotes and so on. Ever so often, suitable illustrations have been added to prep up the tale a bit. When you pick up the book and go through the first 40-50 pages, you might think it isn't going to be a read worth your time. I made the same preconceived judgment. It stems from the fact that the author is initially warming up the reader to the rationale and process behind the conception of the book. It can be a bit boring, agreed. But it gets really interesting a little farther into the book. My copy is actually full of pages that I've earmarked for giving another glance or two later.

The book is also a very interesting take on the idiosyncrasies and vagaries of the ever-elusive English language. He describes funny English tools, like Amphibiology (totally unrelated to amphibians or biology - it implies the ambiguous use of grammar) and a whole list of oxymorons used in everyday conversation. The author also frequently gives out English trivia that is great to know. For example, very few of us would have known that the word 'serendipity' is actually derived from 'Swaran Dweep', the Sanskrit name given to Sri Lanka upon its discovery.

Halfway into the book, I sadly realized that even I am not as much an expert at the language as I had so far imagined. Many of the words mentioned in the book and their varying usages quite befuddled me. But then it dawned upon me - most of the extra-difficult words are directed chiefly towards the CAT/GRE/GMAT/XAT aspirants and are of little, if any, use in everyday English conversations or the average written material, so I did not try hard to memorize any of the high-flying words that sounded alien. But many of the subjects touched upon in English Bites have enriched my understanding of the English language, as also my vocabulary, and general knowledge.

It is humanly impossible to be perfect in your first attempt at doing anything, writing being no exception, and there are indeed some areas where the book could have been better. The initial 50-60 pages could definitely use some revision to make them more appealing, for I'm convinced they could end up being a reason why people keep the book down, unfinished. There could also be a wider coverage of topics and types of words - although no one book can do enough justice to a language, especially with a vocabulary as vast as that of English. The first half of the book is slightly more interesting than the second, which could be boring for some. The narrating style could also be more informal and less professional in order to connect better with the targeted audience.

All in all, I'd give a 3 on 5 to English Bites! Published by Penguin Books, the book is priced at rupees 250. It is definitely a good pick for anyone interested in enriching their English vocabulary and verbal ability, though not so much for someone who's just starting out at learning it. It would be advisable to rather pick up a basic grammar book and work your way upwards.

Freeze your senses!

I return to writing today, after about 3 weeks, with something entirely new - a product review aside from books - a first for this blog.

Wrapped in resplendence - black velvet cushioning et al.

The other day, courtesy BlogAdda, I received two beautifully wrapped, royally presented little cases of ITC's newest offering in the confectionery segment - mint-o Ultramintz. It's supposed to be an extra strong sugar-free mint, one of its kind currently in the Indian market. It comes in a sleek little tin case, black in color, containing 60 little pearly-white pellets. The pack is really impressive to look at. So much so that I've been carrying it around with me everywhere just to show off.
Just kidding. (Or maybe not?)

The mint boasts of having been made from the finest quality menthol and special peppermint oils from France. I don't know about all that, but the mint surely blew my mind. It lives up to all the claims of its makers - it is super minty and strong. And do not be fooled by the tiny size of the pellets - they are power packed enough to freeze the insides of your mouth (in a good way though). And it is absolutely zero sugar, which is an added advantage for someone (read: me) who's lately been gaining weight by the second.

I've never been a fan of mints in general, and especially so since there is hardly any choice in the market in this segment and none of those existing have impressed me so far. I have thus been more of the chewing gum kind, that too on and off. But Ultramintz seems to have me hooked now. I can't seem to get enough of it. I carry it with me all the time, pop a pellet now and then between oodles of studies (phew!), and offer it to whoever it is I'm with at the moment. And take my word, not one person I've offered it to so far has been neutral to its effect. Everyone is like, "This is actually good! What is it? Show me!" and they take the elegant little box in their hands, turn it around a couple of times and usually go, "Sahi packing hai yaar! Where did you get it from?" And they're henceforth hooked. Too.

I'm pretty certain I have single-handedly managed to create a sizable market for this product. You see, if I like something and I find it worth a shot, I can be very persuasive in its advocacy. I generally do not promote products blindly on my blog, for I consider this space extremely sacred and anything I write here has to be well-founded and worthy enough. But I strongly recommend this mint as something to be tried at least once. Not because I got it for free, but because I am already over with my box and going to buy another one from the market.

Mint-o Ultramintz is available in packs of 60 pellets, priced at INR 50. It is an experience truly worth having.

I am reviewing mint-o Ultramintz as a part of the Product Reviews Program at BlogAdda.

Heart to heart

It's been raining, and I'm in a philosophical mood. Or maybe I'm just hungry and high on coffee. So I'm going to be straightforward and sentimental in this post.

I'm right now at a juncture in life where all my preconceived plans and thoughts have given way to a new lifestyle, which is a far cry from what my peers are experiencing, and who knows even I might have, if I had chosen a more conventional path. But I did not, and that has made all the difference.

Life has changed course, moving away from mobile antenna and fiber optic communications, towards economics, polity, environment and history. Poverty alleviation, land reforms, disaster management, good governance and historical revolutions consume my thoughts and my hours now. And I have to say I am loving every moment of it. These are things that I've always been really curious about in life. History, especially, has always fascinated me, and it does so till date. Being an engineer, I knew next to nothing about economics (no offence to those engineers who know their SLRs from their CRRs - most don't) and had kept a well-meaning distance from politics. But it's all changed now. I'm learning new things, relishing every bit of knowledge, and trying to retain all I can.

But it's an uphill task, and just enjoying the process is not going to lead me anywhere. Constant practice, 10-12 hours of meaningful studies a day and full focus are what they say is necessary. I cannot disagree - too new to the field, cannot assume much on my own. But anyhow, you get the picture I hope. So I have a whole lot to work upon if I am to have even the slightest chance at cracking the exam of the highest level in the country. (As a first step, I uninstalled Whatsapp and many other apps from my phone last night, in order to minimize distraction. Sigh.)

Aside from that, I render sincere apologies to my readers - I shall be writing here much less often for some months, for the sheer lack of time makes it imperative that I utilize my time writing stuff related to my field, if at all I write. For that purpose I have started a new blog, to make for some healthy debates and commenting on real world issues, trivia and anything that I feel needs to be shared or talked about. I hope my readers would pay a visit once (and over and over again, pleasepleaseplease!).

The Proletariat Speaketh

Do leave a comment here, or on the other blog, telling me your opinion (on anything at all - even the weather would do). I've been missing meaningful interactions with my readers for a long time - I am in dire need of some intellectual and encouraging conversation.

And I just realized there was nothing sentimental or philosophical about this post, only straightforward from the heart. Drat.

An act of love goes a long way

I have a lot of friends my age who haven't known what it is like to have a grandparent's love, or who have lost all their grandparents over the years. Till a little over three years ago, I could say with pride that both sets of my grandparents were alive and well. I have been fortunate enough to have lived with my paternal grandparents for the first twenty years of my life and was a very frequent visitor to my maternal grandparents' place as well. It is an entirely different feeling to grow up having the love and care of grandparents and their blessings aplenty. Unfortunately, my nanaji crossed over to the other world in the June of 2010. Even though everyone had known it was coming, yet it was a big blow to the family, more exceedingly to me, as I had always been extra pampered and loved by him. During his last years he was little more than a vegetable, hardly even recognizing us anymore. I wish we had had more time to spend with him. Yet, I cherish the limited memories we have - of his stories, of the orange candies, saunf and other little goodies he always had ready for us when we invaded his room. He once admonished me for having contracted myopia so early on in life, and devised ways to get rid of it. I never followed up on his advice *sigh* but I remember every word of it. Will probably pass it on in the future to my kids as their great grandfather's precious words.

The reason why I'm reminiscing about him today is a dream I had last night. I saw my nanaji, hale and hearty, feeding a large gathering of unfortunate and destitute people outside a temple. There was a look of utter contentment and fulfillment on his face. He was serving food single-handedly, and suddenly turned back and smiled. That's only as far as I can recall. It may have only been a dream but it had a profound effect on me. It felt as if he was trying to send across a message to me. And then it suddenly dawned upon me. He, or probably my conscience, wants me to do what he was doing in the dream. Now it may only be a foolhardy belief that someone can visit you in your dream, or a dream can serve as a sign, but I took it rather as a motivation to perform an act of kindness that we often skip out on doing in our busy lives.

I'm therefore cooking a complete meal all by myself today. No help from anyone. I'll be taking it to the Vinayak temple near my place in the afternoon and feed the devotees, rich and poor alike, urging them to bless my grandfather's soul, wherever it might be. I've never paid homage to him till date - perhaps this is my chance.

I do not know how to cook a lot of Indian food though. I can cook good Italian cuisine and exotic beverages, but that's not the kind of foodstuff you'd serve at a temple. So Kitchens of India has come to my rescue. I'm cooking paneer makhani and vegetable biryani using their mixes, adding however a unique touch of my own. I'll also prepare dahi raita and salad and make hazoori petha halwa for prasaad. I must admit I have never done anything like this before. I'm trying to keep the fare simple but sumptuous, in keeping with the purpose and my intention.

It is an act of love on my part for every fellow human being and homage to those who've passed away. The fact that it coincides with my grandpa's death anniversary was perhaps destined. I hope I'll be able to do justice to my cause and bring smiles to the faces of as many people as I can.

[This post is my second entry for the My Weekend Party with Gourmet Food contest.]

The Perfect Indian Homecoming Experience

It has been a trying week. Too much of writing to do; too much of traveling around as well. No wonder a severe back ache has been my constant companion for the last three days. To make things even more taxing, my much-talked-about-but-rarely-seen NRI uncle and aunt from the US announced their long-awaited arrival to India yesterday. And now my grandparents are hoping to host them for lunch, first at their own place, then at ours. As if one extravagant show of Indian hospitality wasn't nearly enough, there's gonna be twice as much effort now to woo them, for God only knows what. Last I checked they were just coming down for a relaxing holiday, and maybe to get a good tan. What's with all the show and hype? They're Indians at heart after all. They know our ways, our food, and our culture very well. Why parade it in front of them every time they decide to fly down to their country? Beats me. But grandparents' logic - can't surpass it. So they want to host the perfect homecoming lunch for the guests this weekend.

But the fun part begins only after. Because they've entrusted the responsibility of deciding on the entire menu and party preparations, to who else but yours truly! The only catch being that the majority of the fare needs to be authentic Indian, although I could play around with the finer details here and there. So no one's complaining.

Being a blogger has its many perks, like I often iterate, and one of these is the exclusive access to immense information and opportunities laid out there for us bloggers. As if to turn my thoughts into reality, IndiBlogger recently came up with an amazing contest in association with Kitchens of India. It was only through them that I came to know of the vast variety of ready-to-eat exotic Indian foods, conserves, chutneys and mixes that Kitchens of India have on offer at unbeatably low prices. And they're available for easy ordering online, above all. It has made my party planning easier than ever, no kidding.

So now a lunch has to be hosted on Sunday at our place for the foreign-returned entourage, comprising of a typically rich pot-bellied uncle, his wife, their two teenage boys and their American household help. We've decided to go with an all-vegetarian theme, in keeping with the fact that we, the hosts, are vegetarians. In any case the extent of my knowledge about non-vegetarian food starts from Tandoori Chicken and ends with Seekh Kebabs, with nothing significant in between. So the responsibility of treating the guests to authentic Indian non-vegetarian food has been taken up by my illustrious grandmother at her place on Saturday.

I chose our lawn as the ideal venue for a laidback afternoon of catching up over sumptuous food, good music and amazing weather that has been pleasing us Delhi-wallahs for a week now. No amounts of air conditioning in the confines of a room could ever compare with a cool breeze, ever so little drizzling, a canopy of trees all around and eating under the shed outside in nature's midst. Words aren't enough - you have to be there to soak it all in and realize the true beauty of what I speak. As for seating, I have decided on having a number of padded chairs and cushioned mattresses with pillows strewn all around the floor, to make for a comfortable space to lounge around. Music is my biggest forte and I've also heard one of my NRI cousins is a pro guitarist, so there's going to be no dearth of entertainment either. What remains to be seen to is - well - the food.

Given the ongoing Mango season and every Indian's undying love for mangoes, they have been kept as the theme of the meal. [The entire lawn is covered by a dense canopy of mango trees, so the ambiance and food compliment each other only too well].

 Here's a glimpse of the menu I've prepared:

~ Welcome drink: A refreshingly cool Mango Panna drink to welcome the guests

~ Starters: My all-time favorite Nachos (Tortilla Chips) as well as crispy potato fries with a choice of two dips: a tangy Tamarind and Date Chutney, and a sweet Shredded Mango Chutney.

~ Main course: Vegetable Biryani (Using the Vegetable Biryani Mix), an exotic Mughlai Paneer replete with cashew nuts, Mirch ka Salan (a signature dish made from chillies, symbolic of the Indian love for spicy food), Peeli Dal Tadka made by mom, Lachha Paranthas, along with traditional Punjabi accompaniments including Lassi (spiced buttermilk), Sirke wale pyaaz (onions marinated in vinegar), Green salad and a spicy Hot Mango Chutney instead of the usual mango pickle.

~ Dessert: (This one's the course everyone in India actually waits for throughout a meal!) Moong Dal Halwa is like heaven on a plate, literally. No other delicacy surpasses it in its royality, at least for me. But keeping in mind the possibility of varying preferences, I'll also keep various flavors of ice cream and topping syrups on the menu.

~ Conclusion: A traditional Indian meal, a la the ancient maharajas' style, is seldom complete without a meetha paan in the end. So that's how I'll sum up the yummilicious, lip-smacking gastronomical experience I've put together.

I am hoping the guests feel as tempted, and salivate in the mouth as much at the sight of the meal, as I have while putting the whole thing together. Keeping my fingers crossed until then!


[This post is my entry for the My Weekend Party with Gourmet Food contest.]

The importance of finding yourself

I have always been a closet philosopher. But like I said, only in a closet. Most people do not know the philosophy that I live my life on. They only see me as a fiery comet, a rolling stone that goes her own way and does what she likes, and fortunately gets lucky every time. It isn't however like that. I have made more mistakes in my life than a lot of people manage to make in over 40 years. But I have worked to get what I have, and striven to be who I am. It isn't after all luck that bides by you in tough times, but your own courage and perseverance. Those who have led an ideal life - graduation, post graduation, stable job, marriage, two kids, a car and an insurance - would look down upon me today for my choices. They might even think the same of me ten years down the line. Because I have, so far, built a less than ideal life for myself that may look crazy from the outside but is much more fulfilling than the so-called ideal life is on the inside.

I have often been considered the only rebel in the family. From an early age, they knew I was different from the other cousins and the aunts and the uncles. I was industrious and creative but aloof to most conventional practices. I was courageous and stood my ground when others buckled. They time and again relate this anecdote from when I was only two years old. Our uncle told my elder sister (who was four) that our father was a daku (robber) and that he went to the forest and hunted lions with his big gun. She, a simpleton, believed him and went and repeated the same to the family only to be told that it was all a joke. She was left confused and disillusioned. Such occurrences were fairly common and they shaped her personality in such a way that has bearings on the way she deals with people even now. I, on the contrary, when my turn came, smiled and maintained that my father was a doctor who treated patients and saved lives. No amount of coaxing, cajoling or charm could induce me into believing otherwise, because I knew what was right. And to this day I haven't let go of this aspect of my personality. I have been bold, and yet stayed reasonable and real enough to survive in all kinds of surroundings. And it has never failed me in these twenty one odd years.

A majority of Indian people's mindsets are still a bit conventional, to say the least, when it comes to the ideal way of living life. But there are little seeds of change that are coming up everywhere, and I believe in being a part of the movement - in bringing change into myself and my surroundings, so it can slowly permeate to a larger audience. I have the courage to live my life a certain way and the perseverance to stand up every time I fall. And I have fallen numerous times. I have given my parents reasons to believe the worst in me. I remember a time, around when I was in high school, when my parents thought I was a promiscuous Hussie. [Emphasis on 'thought'.] They had brought me up a certain way, fed me with a comprehensive list from an early age of what is wrong and not to be done, and what is right and to be done at all costs. Study, score centuries, build a gleaming career were the do's. Have romantic alliances, hang out with friends, watch too much of TV or movies were some of the don'ts. Understandably so, from an Indian parent's viewpoint. I had slightly different beliefs. So I took the middle path. I became a brilliant student, much respected and admired by everyone at school and home, but I never held myself back from experimenting wherever I felt I wasn't out of line. I received flak a number of times for my so-called 'misdemeanor' but that could not bog me down. I knew, somewhere down the line those were the kind of exposure and experiences that would help me later on in life. And they did, and do even now. Those were trying times but I held on to my belief in the Almighty and in myself. My family was all that mattered to me and with determination and some hard work, I eventually won their trust and admiration back.

By the time I passed out of school, I had mixed opinions on what I wanted to do in life. So I took a practical decision. I went with what my mother (herself educated and well-aware) expected me to do - engineering. It wasn't for lack of choice that I took it up though. I had taken up admission in University of Delhi's best department in Chemistry, the subject I loved. Yet I was more convinced by my mother's argument than my own, so I took a decision. And I have not regretted it till today. I believe it was bold of me, and not meek as some would have it, to go by someone else's belief in me rather than my own conviction. Not that I ever liked what I was doing. But I knew it was the right call, and I persevered throughout those four years, making each moment count towards building for myself a life worth being happy about. 

Everybody was satisfied that an engineer was coming up in the family. But not for long. Along the way I discovered my hidden flair for writing. It had been there ever since I was a kid - I used to write poetry and essays and all my teachers would tell my parents about how good I was. But it did not occur to me till I was 20, to make a career out of it. And when it finally did, people freaked out. Writers are unconventional, especially in the middle class society that I live in. They told me to concentrate on my engineering, and to get a conventional job in the industry. I said okay. I did not wish to let my parents down, for they are the reason I am. So I studied hard, gave the exams of their choice, cleared them as also clinched a job. But then lightning struck again and I realized I want to be a civil servant. Now in India, IAS is the ultimate thing. Nothing beats the tag of being a bureaucrat. Being a writer along with a bureaucrat would only be what they call 'sone pe suhaga' (akin to 'cherry on the cake'). But it is believed to be ridden with corruption and extreme exploitation, so I was discouraged from even thinking about it. That was earlier this year; I have graduated now. Everybody keeps telling me to go for a stable engineering career. I hold onto my faith nevertheless. I have given much thought to my decision, and I know it is where my calling lies. I have slowly but thoroughly convinced everyone who matters, that it isn't just a passing fad and that I have it in me to be better than just another engineer. Moreover, even if I failed, I'd have the satisfaction of having pursued my dream and  in the process gained a vast amount of knowledge and built my own opinion on matters of importance. It is what I want, and I shall not stop till I have it. 

So with infinite amounts of patience and determination, I have carved a different niche for myself in the small world I live in. It has been a slow process, taken years and years, but I look back sometimes and feel proud of all that I have done and gone through till now. I have been bold enough to follow my heart but reasonable enough to stay real and not get carried away with anything. And it motivates me to stay the same, rather improve, and achieve everything that I believe I am capable of.

I am only but a single instance of personal strength and courage. I am not old or accomplished enough to put down my life and my choices as an example of anything. There are a lot of instances of bold, real people out there who are living fulfilling lives despite all odds being against them, and whose lives inspire me to no end. We live in a world where physically impaired people are competing in the Olympics in all the sports. Innumerable social workers and non-profit organizations have been coming up in the last few years to work for causes ranging from illiteracy and poverty to women's rights and bonded labor. People today are increasingly taking a stand for human rights or the society's rights in general, as has lately been seen in the cases of Jessica Lal, Arushi Talwar, the 16th December gang-rape victim, the Lokpal Bill issue and so many others. There are bravehearts posted at Kargil and the Siachen glacier, protecting the country from infiltration as best as they can, while silently convincing their hearts that they'll return safe and sound to serve their mothers and love their wives and children.

Every great achievement is a sign of boldness within the achiever's heart, perseverance in their efforts and realness in their purpose. With even one of those elements missing, an achievement isn't half as praise-worthy. And that is why, mothers must teach their children, not to be 'ideal' but rather to be bold and fearless, at the same time remembering who they are and what ideals they stand for. Because ultimately it's all about finding yourself and having the requisite courage within to live up to your own ideals. To put it in even fewer words: BE BOLD, STAY REAL.

[I am writing on Be Bold Stay Real at BlogAdda.]

Diagnostics from across the seven seas - made easy with WeChat

I have been a fan of the medical drama House MD for as long as I can remember. It was a phenomenal show, defying all network TV conventions and setting a unique example of an entirely different kind of entertainment. So potent has its effect been that even now whenever I watch an episode I often dream of it at night. Last night brought into my sleep another such dream, only, this time spruced up with a most unexpected twist.

So here I am, one of the esteemed members of Gregory House's team of diagnosticians that help him solve, from the easiest of cases to the most myriad and twisted ones. We're the best diagnostics team in the world - Dr. Gregory House (Head of Diagnostic Medicine), Dr. James Wilson (Head of Oncology), Dr. Lisa Cuddy (Dean of Medicine), Dr. Robert Chase (an intensivist), Dr. Allison Cameron (an immunologist) and I - a neurologist. We follow a differential diagnosis strategy, writing down symptoms and possible causes on a white board and then we brainstorm together, bounce ideas and prospective diagnoses off each other, and reel under House's sardonic passes all the while. He spares no one.

The dream sees us faced with a weird case of an 85-year old lady who says she's been in a too good mood for the past many days. She admits to suddenly beginning to have sexual fantasies about younger men, especially about Ashton Kutcher (I watched an Ashton Kutcher movie a week ago. The effect seems to be manifesting in my dreams..sigh!). She says she has started writing poetry and feels like falling in love all of a sudden. The lady seems to be happy, but her middle aged son thinks it insane and has brought her in for a checkup.

The problem however is that I am on a week's leave in India for an important family engagement. But the team cannot carry out a diagnosis without my insights on such a strange case (It's my dream. I get to be all important here). Everybody's in a fix. Long distance diagnoses are usually carried out on speaker phone when one member is out while the others are together in the department. But House is on clinic duty, while Cuddy is as usual busy running from pillar to post, managing the entire hospital and staff in her tight skirts and 5-inch heels. Chase and Cameron are out searching the lady's house for possible drug abuse (yes, we go against the law and search patients' homes, because - Everybody lies.)

House is getting crankier and more sarcastic in his assaults by the minute. Right when he is about to tell the lady and her worried son to bugger off (yes, he can do that, and much more), I come up with the perfect solution. WeChat! It is an amazing app compatible with everybody's smartphones. Using WeChat, I hurriedly create a group, add all the members of our team to it and start a live chat session using the 'Live Chat' option in the WeChat window.

Since it allows for only one person to speak at a time, each one of us gets to put our ideas across without interruption (something that is hard to do otherwise when House is around. He is always interrupting and cutting everybody off, the jerk!). Aha! So finally we have a tool that helps us snub House. Life really doesn't get any better than this.

The differential diagnosis starts. Wilson is in the office and as everyone chips in with their inputs verbally, he keeps jotting it down on the whiteboard. Once the list of symptoms is made, he uses the 'Moments' option on WeChat, clicks a picture of the list on the whiteboard and forwards it to everyone for ready reference. Chase and Cameron also report that the lady's house is clean. So reportedly no drug use.

It's getting sort of confusing after a point, with Wilson having to read through the long list again and again and sending a picture repeatedly. But WeChat comes to the rescue again. Chase (the hottie wrongly believed to be a beauty without brains!!) however discovers the 'Video Call' option in the app. But since all of us cannot simultaneously access the video call, House decides to call me up instead and take my opinion on the lady's sudden personality change.

What greets me on the video call is a hilarious sight. The elderly lady is flirting with House, trying all her charms on him while he has his sulkiest face on, impatiently asking her son to keep his mother in control. The son seems to be irked himself. After all, who wants his widowed mother to dream of men younger and smarter than him, and be happy about it too? I somehow control my amusement and ask House if he has had her checked for STDs. It seems to hit him like a bullet (how did the genius not think of it himself?) He abruptly ends the call, probably ordering the lady to be tested immediately. Meanwhile all of us (except House of course) get back on the group and take digs at him. The wide range of emoticons available in the app make it all the more hilarious and we're all in splits, only until he returns with the test results, that is.

He returns with significant news. The lady has tested positive for Syphilis. Now the question is, how can she contract the disease when she swears not to have had any sexual activity for almost a decade now? And then it strikes me! The disease was dormant in her body all these years, only starting to attack her brain now. The idea appeals to House and he orders Wilson to have her brain mapping done. What the tests show is dismal. The lady has permanent brain damage for which there is no treatment. But there are ways to stop any further damage, Wilson says. The lady, however, admits she doesn't want to be treated. She feels happier now than she has in a long time, and she wishes to remain that way for as long as she lives. I can almost hear House smirk into the phone. But Cuddy, ever practical and respectful of patients' rights, lets the lady leave in peace. House taunts Cuddy on her brain being caught beneath her high heels. She ignores him and leaves the group chat, followed by all of us.

WeChat thus served as an easy and fast way of carrying out a diagnosis simultaneously from different locations. No need of a laptop, no slow desktop video chatting and absolutely easy to use when on the move. I think my brainwave might just have saved the day at the hospital. Or was it WeChat that did it?

Anyhow, it was only a dream. Where else could I be lucky enough to be an indispensable part of House's team of doctors? Sigh. If only reality was as beautiful as dreams. Nevertheless, one part of the surreal dream is for real - WeChat. And I guess one could always make do with that, if not to chat with big shot doctors in medical emergencies, then at least to keep in touch with friends night and day.


[This post is my entry for the "WeChat with Anyone, Anywhere!" contest by IndiBlogger. You can check out the WeChat YouTube Channel here.]

Book Review: The Homing Pigeons - Sid Bahri

A book that comes with a personal handwritten note by the author is almost always a pleasure to read and review. In the present case, luckily, the content greatly complements the author's note too. Because the book definitely made me happy.

Wading through the bottomless ocean of contemporary Indian writers churning out books revolving around common subjects like recession, life in engineering colleges, love affairs and separation, one fine day I came across an email offering me to read Sid Bahri's debut novel, The Homing Pigeons. I won't deny it came as a breath of fresh air, for the very fact that its story is not borrowed or tried and tested. The characters are greatly flawed, yet the reader can relate to their thoughts and situations as they brave the biggest lows and commit mistakes to emerge wiser (or not).

The book follows the lives of Aditya and Radhika, separately at the outset so one can establish any relationship between the two initially. Aditya, along with his family, is a childhood victim of the 1984 anti-Sikh riots. Radhika is torn, from her very early years between two sets of parents both of which fail to completely provide her with everything a child is entitled to in her growing up years. With time, it is revealed that they're best friends from high school, with hidden feelings for each other ever since then. And yet, they were never really together. Now Aditya is jobless and in an unhappy, love-less marriage, somehow battling out the recession, while Radhika is marrying off her young stepdaughter from her dead, rich husband. Both are at a stage in life they had never imagined they would land up in. And in all of this, they reminisce about the time that was, when they were in love and kept bumping into each other over the years.

Saying anything more would be a spoiler, so I shall refrain from giving out more. It would however suffice to say that the book is the right combination of emotion and a reality take on the imperfection that is life nowadays. Both the characters start out as any other youngsters with a decent upbringing and certain dreams and aspirations. However, life plays out its games in such a way as to give a totally different turn to each of their dreams and land them in a soup. But the soup brings them back together, so there, a happy ending is in tow. No one's complaining.

The novel is very nicely written, with negligible grammatical errors (yeah, I do pay attention to those) and simple yet elegant language. I have always found the art of writing dialogue largely missing in contemporary Indian writers. Siddharth (or does he prefer Sid?) Bahri succeeds at it exceptionally, and thus gets extra brownie points from Yours Truly. The book is conveniently priced at 150 rupees and I'd say it is worthy of each penny. If that isn't convincing enough, I'd say buy it for the The Homing Pigeons Original Soundtrack CD that comes along with it. The songs have been created by Rishikesh - The Band, and have a beautiful feel to them. I especially loved the song 'Banjaara Dil Ka'. The songs are also available for free download here.

I would give the book 3.5 stars out of 5.

Book Review: The Secrets of the Dark - Arka Chakrabarti

They say not every man that eats can make a good cook. Likewise, not every man that watches mythology can make an epic writer. And I learnt it the hard way.

I'd say the worst part about being a reader and a book reviewer is that you are sometimes forced to read stuff you'd never otherwise have spent any effort or time on. Also given my propensity not to put down a book halfway, once I've picked it up, causes me a lot of torment at times. I completed reading one such book tonight.

Now my regular readers would know I am never really hard upon any book. There's always something new or unique about each piece of writing and I appreciate the pros as much as I highlight the cons (usually fewer). But The Secrets of the Dark by newbie writer Arka Chakrabarti, all of 25 years, has left me disappointed on many levels. I received the book about a month and a half ago, and I like to believe that I am professional enough not to take too long in reading a book I have received from a kind publisher. The title and a reading of a few initial pages, however, made me put it down and consciously keep stalling reading it till I possibly could. But I couldn't go on like that forever - so I read it over the last two weeks and here I am, reviewing it immediately after putting it down.

The plot: Agni, a prince, is forced to be taken away from his kingdom in the face of impending death, and is brought up as the ward of the King of Himadri with the king's son and his own foster family. He grows up not knowing to where he belongs or what his real destiny is. But the merciless killing of his lady love and her father throws him into a whirlwind of unexpected events that slowly guide him towards his true identity and exacting revenge upon those responsible for his loved ones' deaths. At the heart of all these events are three ancient prophecies that bind together the East and the West and form the foundation of the beliefs of the world. How Agni unravels the third prophecy and assumes his true role in the larger scheme of things is the central theme of book.

For a first, the very title of the book has been poorly selected. It is slightly childish. The tagline even more so (which goes like: '...the debt of blood is never repaid'). For any average or above-average reader, the title and the tagline would be hard to connect with the actual plot. Even uncannier is the fact that the book is apparently the first in a series of books titled 'The Saga of Agni'. I find that too much of an assuming nature on part of the writer, publisher and the book itself. I mean, to be able to write the first part of a series, one must be clear on his vision for the entire series, especially how the first book would introduce the story and the characters and then seamlessly merge into the next and even further. I found that approach lacking here. The book ends very abruptly, leaving the reader confused as to what really happened and what to expect in the next part. The ending of a book is just like the last course of a meal - if you screw it up, the entire meal risks having been for nothing. I felt the ending should have been clearer. After all, what's the point of creating so much of a mystery around your story and characters that the reader loses their mind AND their interest? The turn of events and the way parallelism has been achieved between two so far unconnected stories, is also confusing and hard to follow at times.

Another lesser, but equally vexing, flaw in the book is its language and editing. I agree, simple language is the order of the day when it comes to young newbie writers of our generation, and understandably so. But there is absolutely no excuse for such bad editing. I was faced with so many outrightly visible grammatical and printing errors throughout the book, that it made me feel I can be a much better editor if these publishing houses ever gave me a chance at it. Whoever uses the pronoun 'her' for a man, in a published novel, and that too, at more places than one? I even discovered the writer's favorite word - curt. I'd like to make a note here, for the writer's perusal if he ever comes across this review - the words 'curt' and 'curtly' may have been used in ancient or classic literature with some other, non-negative connotations, but in modern English language, these words are associated with quite negative connotations, such as rude, short and terse. The frequency and the manner in which the word has been used throughout the book forced me to make a mention here. It was nauseating, almost.

I guess not everyone can write great mythology. Amish Tripathi is a genius for having succeeded at it so beautifully, and I am all praise and respect for him. But the amounts of experience, research and hard work that must have gone into creating the Shiva series are unimaginable. Merely watching The Lord of the Rings, Kingdom of Heaven and The Chronicles of Narnia does not endow one with enough ammo to write down an entire fantasy novel, let alone a saga. I hope the writer's listening. A reviewer's job is to judge a book on all levels. No hard feelings - you have a way with words, put it to better use and I'm sure your next book shall find an applauding review on my humble blog.


Disclaimer:
The views expressed in my book reviews are solely my personal opinion, and I wish not to influence the readers' judgement in finally deciding whether to read a book or not. My review is one of the many available on the WWW. The readers know better, whether to take my advice seriously or to throw it out the window. I shall leave it to their discretion, therefore, to be the final judge.

Keep coming back for more, though. Who doesn't like followers? ;)

Once bitten forever shy.

Yesterday morning I was driving back home from Agra on the smooth Yamuna Expressway. There was wind in my hair and a glow on my face. The exam on Sunday had gone quite well and we had left for Agra right after it, family and I, for a much-needed two-day break. We stayed at one of the best hotels of Agra, treated ourselves to great food, frolicked in the pool, danced and played games and felt utterly rejuvenated after a day and a half. So much so that visiting the Taj Mahal never even once crossed our minds. And so I had a smile on my lips on our way back, glad to finally be able to clear out a lot of crappy textbooks that had been cramming my bookshelf for so long, once I reached home. That was until we entered home.

They say only the wearer knows where the shoe pinches. They aren't at all off the mark. It's funny how we have so much to say on situations when they occur to others, hardly thinking of what it would be like when it happens to us. Having a crime perpetrated against oneself is the worst kind of breach of privacy and faith. It leaves you scarred somewhere inside, not wanting to believe anymore in the goodness of people or the fairness of the universe.

So back from an awesome trip, we entered home to find out that we had been robbed. The house lay ransacked. Every cupboard, every drawer, every single tiny little box had been opened and the contents strewn about the floor. The robbers left no stone unturned, no corner unchecked. It was a thorough, time-consuming breach of our privacy. And to think we had been just 350 kilometers away, enjoying ourselves with no inkling of what might have been transpiring back at home. The sight kind of got to me. I went into shock, sat down in a corner while everyone jumped to their feet, doing what the situation at hand demanded. My parents went to the police station nearby to file a report. Investigations ensued, the police and crime branch did their job at leisure and left after a round of tea and snacks.

I was the only one of us who cried. My sister was enraged beyond measure. Mom was a rock, strong and efficient. Dad was, well, dad. Dads don't cry anyway. But I went into a weird state of shock where I was still not able to believe it was happening to us for real. The material loss was nothing extraordinary - 2 LCDs, a laptop, my beloved bag, some other stuff, little cash. The robbers actually did not find much in our humble abode - no jewelry, no insane amounts of money, no valuables - so they were forced to take away the electronics, to make all the effort seem worth it. They had after all broken down a small section of the wall at the back of the house to enter and open the back door to let their accomplices in. There is some consolation for us in the fact, however, that they put in too much of an effort to ransack each nook and cranny of the house, and yet did not manage to get much. Must have been such a disappointment to the assholes.

It has been over 24 hours since all that drama. But living in my own house has become an ordeal now. I could not sleep the other night. My mind kept trying to imagine the thieves breaking in, going through our stuff, throwing it here and there, sniggering to each other as they found something cheesy or intimate. It is hard for me to come to terms with this incident. It is scary now to even roam about the house or stay alone in my room at night. It is absurd, I know, but my mind keeps imagining noises, faces, around the house, out the window. It feels like we're being watched. At all times.

We all slept in the same room last night, because even our parents are worried for our safety now. It is common knowledge that in Delhi, no one is ever too safe, no house is ever out of the reach of criminals, no lock is impenetrable. And yet, we live in this make-believe world where we're happy and safe. Until one fine day someone comes along and breaks that faith, invading our privacy and leaving our safety net shattered.

The hole in the back wall has been repaired today, but the hole in our psyches remains. Who knows, maybe forever.

When life gives you lemons and you've got no sugar for lemonade!

Life lately seems to be going along a totally different tangent from anything I'd ever expect it to be. It's like I'm being showered with the choicest of lemons and I don't even have sugar or water to make lemonade out of them. Hapless, hapless days.

So right after I wrote here about my sudden craving for world travel and the lack of resources preventing me from doing that, life threw another big rock in my face. The family gossip tree came out with yet another juicy piece of gossip that went traveling through the entire family to reach me today. This very distant cousin of mine, who's a total nerd, and is settled in Saudi Arabia and minting huge money, and of whose very existence we learned only after he got settled in the Gulf and started minting money - surprisingly, this guy has finally tied the knot. To a seemingly pretty girl. And he's going for a Switzerland honeymoon now! Can someone kill me, please.

The Alps, Swiss chocolates, and beautiful watches. That lucky lady is gonna have it all, while I'm doomed to sweat in Delhi's sultry heat and sit for an important exam in 2 days. Why does life have to be so unfair! Yes, yes, I know I'm probably being hormonal and reacting too much, but this is NOT FAIR. I just so wanna get done with all the career-building, educational and responsibility-related exercises of life as soon as possible, so that I can finally be on my own and do whatever I want, wherever I want to. But no. Not so fast dearies. Life isn't all sugar and candy. They'll first grind you, make you clear exams, get jobs, work your butt off, crush your spirit beyond recognition and when you're finally at the height of glory and got lots of money in the pocket and time at hand, you'd have lost that passion that made you wanna do things and see places. So you'll probably just sit in your big house watching TV, gaining weight and reminiscing old times when you used to dream of going to Switzerland.

Okay, I know I've started with the same downward-spiraling thought process all over again. I need to digress from here.

So I dug up some more information on the Saudi cousin's story. Apparently, luck has been shining rather too brightly on the couple lately. Right after they'd decided the dates of the wedding, the wife came across an online contest where a trip to Switzerland was among the top prizes. She registered for the contest flippantly, not expecting to get even a consolation prize, but as destiny would have had it, they actually won themselves a free Swiss trip. And with its dates coming up right after their wedding too. Luck is such a bitch sometimes when it is so kind on others and not the teeniest bit on you.

I wish I could switch places with that couple and scale the snow-clad mountains while they gave my exam. I wish my family aunties did not have to propagate such gossip like wildfire. I wish Delhi's temperature dropped to like 15 degrees Celsius. Ah, wishes. I should probably just get back to my books.

See you guys around after Sunday.

If only I had money...

If only I had money, I'd turn a globetrotter, leaving everything and everyone behind. *sighs*. And no, not that cool-dude-photographer kind who travels around the world with a camera in hand, observing anything and everything through his lens. If I were to travel, I'd keep the camera aside for most of the time, only taking it out once I was sure I'd captured all the magnificence through my eyes and stored it in my heart.

Umm...wondering what's wrong with me? Why the sudden craving for travel and money? *sighs again*

So, coming to the real (less fun) part of the story, I just happened to come across this link on makemytrip.com that lists rates for a round trip to some of the most happening travel destinations across the world. London, New York, Hong Kong, Dubai, Singapore, Bangkok - it had me drooling all over myself, more so because the rates seemed to be discounted and within reach of a decently earning professional (read: future me). And thus I've been chewing away at mommy dearest's head, thinking aloud, hoping and praying to get professionally settled very soon and earning in lacs, so I could finally realize my dream of traveling around the globe.

Aside from the obvious delight that traveling to a foreign destination offers, airports and airplanes are great fun too. Airports have those awesome duty-free shops where you can get anything and everything, though end up buying nothing because everything's too expensive. Then there are those tiny candies, chocolates and packaged foods that they serve you in flight. Not to forget the air hostesses. Their perpetual forced smiles and monotonous speeches can get really nauseating at times, but it is fun to observe them nevertheless. And at the risk of sounding extremely racist and discriminatory, I maintain that the air hostesses on the middle-eastern and oriental airlines are the most enchanting and beautiful - a treat to look at, even for individuals of the same sex (read: yours truly).

Now mommy dearest has been to Dubai twice - the only member of our little family to have traveled abroad - and goes on and on about how good it was. And so Dubai, for better or for worse, is one of the destinations I really truly wish to visit once, the others being parts of Europe and Australia (as I've mentioned earlier in my posts). Add to that an obvious penchant for oriental flight attendants, and there, I've already zeroed in on the carrier I'd most likely be flying with - pretty obviously either the Emirates or the Gulf Air, both of which fit the bill perfectly. I wish they'd give me free air tickets in exchange for this mention. I did ask too, but alas they said it wasn't policy, so....I guess I'll just have to get that darned elusive job, to earn in lacs and to buy myself tickets, so as to go about with my original plan of being a globetrotter once I have the money. 

Oh wait. Aren't we back right from where we started? *sighs* So much for wishful thinking - it leads you absolutely nowhere. That's established.

Guess it's a good night then. Keep dreaming folks!

Book Review: Salvation of a Saint - Keigo Higashino

Being a blogger has had more perks than I had ever imagined possible before creating this blog. It was only a means of self expression for me back then. How much it has indeed evolved over these three odd years, with it now being a source of some amazing new literary works for me to read. And trust BlogAdda to come out with the most varied genres of books when it comes to their Book Reviews program. Despite a severe shortage of time that is currently keeping me from reading or writing anything much these days - I am not complaining!

The book today at The Bookworm's Word is Salvation of a Saint - a Japanese murder mystery by Keigo Higashino, translated into English very adeptly by Alexander O. Smith. An uncanny pick, since I don't read much of crime fiction and I have never really read a non-English work before. But it was inescapable, really.

The core of the story is as simple as it gets. A Japanese couple on the verge of a split-up are hosting what could perhaps be their last get-together as man and wife. And then the wife goes over to her parents' for the weekend while the husband is found dead at their house under mysterious circumstances while she's away. The wife as well as her young patchwork apprentice come under the investigative net. Both seem to be deeply involved in the twisted thread that holds the mystery together. Moreover one of the detectives becomes unusually partial to the wife, while another is dead against her from the word go. A genius scientist ultimately has to step in to help unravel what is touted as 'the perfect crime'. How they together arrive at a solution makes for an amazing journey.

Who dies, and how, is no big secret and is revealed quite easily. The 'who' part is somewhat guessable a few chapters into the book, and even though you'd never be sure if your guess is right until almost the end, you can safely assume you know the killer. But it's the 'how' part that sends everyone into a real tizzy. And the end reveals one of the most innovative and unique ways to kill somebody that I've ever come across in literature or on TV. I hope no psychopath gets around to reading this book lest s/he gets any ideas!!

The translation from Japanese to English is particularly exceptional. In sheer defiance of the saying 'lost in translation', the intensity of the writing and the details of daily life within a Japanese household and society are perfectly expressed throughout the volume. It was an insightful read and at the same time really un-put-down-able (yeah I just love that non-word). The details, the characters and the circumstances have been meticulously crafted and students of science like me would find it utterly intriguing to read and make their own conjectures and predictions. Though it was stretched a bit too much at a couple of places, especially towards the end, but a really good read in its entirety. I am given to understand that this book is a part of the author's Detective Galileo series, with the major characters remaining the same throughout the titles. Nevertheless, a first timer will not find anything amiss and will enjoy the book as an individual piece of crime fiction.

The 377-page book, being an international title, is rather steeply priced at Rupees 350. I would give it 3 stars out of 5.

This review is a part of the biggest Book Review Program for Indian Bloggers. Participate now to get free books!

Book Review: Tantra by Adi

There are some books that you'll go to any lengths to lay your hands upon, and then there are those other books which land into your hands on their own, without your ever having wanted to read them. Of the second category, you aren't really sure whether it'll enthrall you, amuse you or just leave you cold and unmoved. And so you don't bother. But life has its own way of playing with you, and that it most religiously does.

Tantra by Adi, strangely as it has been titled, is one of those books that belonged to the second category for me. I had no idea even of its recent highly publicized launch. But it came by in the mail, thanks to BlogAdda as always, and I read it out of obligation. Only to be highly pleased that I did. Because, believe it or not, the book is quite the surprise package!

The book has been written by one 'Adi', apparently 'a graduate from Stanford and Harvard Universities' and author of a 'poetry book and a minor textbook', one who wishes he hadn't published the said poetry book at all. Interesting, but shrouded under an unnecessary veil of mystery, with no specifics, no details. Reading the short summary at the back, in addition to this supposed mystery looming around the writer and the offbeat (read: computer-generated graphics) cover illustration, sort of made me groan at the prospect of having to read a book that didn't seem at all my type. I imagined it to be yet another immature attempt by a fellow Indian at a fantasy/fiction novel to have his 15 seconds of fame. In hindsight, I'm glad I underestimated this book. It made the reading all the more enthralling and full of surprises.

So coming to the story - Tantra by Adi (is that really how one is supposed to refer to it?) follows the journey of Anu, a young, beautiful and fiery girl who fights vampires in the streets of New York by night, while bottling up her emotions and escaping life's realities and difficulties by day. In a cruel twist of fate, she is terribly wronged by a vampire who she soon finds out has moved to New Delhi, and thus that's where she finds herself heading in his pursuit. Once in India, she cannot help but fall into a warp of all the emotions, rituals, love and family ties that she has been guarding herself against all her life, and things get tangled up. Meanwhile she's caught in a nasty war involving power-thirsty Tantric-energy-wielding Baba Senaka, the city's cult of vampires and her own group of guardians, with the entire city and its people at stake. But she finds within herself the determination to take the Baba down, and works towards learning how to do that, albeit in the potent Indian spiritual way. In the process many of her presumptions and beliefs are broken, new ones are made, many a lesson is learned and she emerges as the true modern heroine, if you will.

The plot moves at a slow pace initially, and there are too many loose ends that make it seem like the plot is going to get nowhere with this. One may even feel like abandoning the book a couple of times, but hang on. The fun hasn't yet begun. It gets much faster and action-packed as the pages advance. The build-up may be vague, but as the loose ends get tied, the picture emerges and it is worth all that effort. The book provides, for dummies, a whole lot of knowledge about spirituality, energies and how we as people connect with the world and with other people by threads. I took time reading through the pages, comprehending any new information and absorbing it inside me so as to develop a feel for the story. Worked pretty well, I must say.

The way Delhi has been portrayed in the book is quite realistic, and Anu's character, as all of the others, has been painstakingly carved and described well in words. The characters literally speak out for themselves. Alas, if only more writers went for the no-character-descriptions, let-the-character's-behavior-and-words-speak-for-herself mantra of writing books. It is so much more mature and takes reading to an entirely different level. Tantra by Adi scores in that regard for me.

[Free advice to any aspiring/existing authors reading this: Try this mantra. Let your characters' conduct speak more for them than your words. You'll see the difference. It might cut down your everyday fan-mail inflow by about half, but it'll definitely make every second spent reading your books totally worth it.]

I'll give this book a 3 and a half stars, and would recommend it to those who like action-packed thrillers or a female superhero saving the day in a part-fantasy, part-reality world.

P.S. I went on a stalking spree of my own and unearthed more on the author, including how he looks, what else he does, and the books's launch and official video trailer as well. Check out here.

This review is a part of the biggest Book Review Program for Indian Bloggers. Participate now to get free books!