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!

From Goldilocks to dreadlocks, and back again!

I've talked about my childhood here a number of times before. I was a happy kid. Happy with life, with school, with the cartoons on TV, and with everything else. But then again, I was a tad too lost as a kid - I knew not the first thing about keeping things around me organized, or presenting myself well, or oiling and caring for my hair or so much as even standing in front of the mirror and analyzing my looks. I was just happy to be. Though kids of today, I tell you - they're smartasses of the smartest kind. We weren't. Or at least I wasn't.

But thanks to the Almighty I was blessed with good health, an innate dressing sense and a mop of smooth and silken soft dark drown hair that I took almost for granted. I remember this time when I was probably 12 or 13 and my beloved mother would tie my medium-length hair up in a plait every morning before school while I was lost in my thoughts. Now on the ride back home on the school bus, this particular senior (one whom I was in awe of despite her patronizing ways), would sometimes sit behind me in the afternoon and taking my plait in her hands, play with it and coo to her friends, "OMG, look how silky her hair is!" And I absolutely do not exaggerate there. They did find my hair awe-inspiring, though I was as far from realizing that as could be. For me they were just, well, hair.

Curly, well oiled (thanks to MOM) but perfectly healthy - the hair that was. 

Then I changed schools and in the new, seemingly horrid place, we were supposed to tie our hair into two plaits and tie them up with ribbons!! My mother even insisted on oiling my hair before school, to which I protested a lot but had to eventually give in. It all felt like a nightmare. Maybe if I'd known what I was in for, in the future, it'd have felt much less horrible.

Gradually I began to develop a penchant for hair experiments and new hairdos. In ninth grade, I was known throughout the school as 'the girl with the sky-high ponytail'. I would just tie my somewhat-long-by-then hair up on the top of my head and feel it moving from side to side when I moved or talked. It was fun. Only, there was something not quite right. My hair seemed to have reduced in volume and the ends looked terribly jagged and unruly. The ponytail did not look as much fun as it had looked before. My hair would get tangled a lot, breaking in the process and thus thinning my mane. I started disliking my hair with each passing day, coming to a time when I really didn't give a damn about them anymore. And one fine day I went up to the salon and got them cut down to the shortest length possible. So within one year, I went from Little Miss High Ponytail to The Weird Blunt-Hair Girl. And it wasn't a good feeling.

Even when I left school some four years hence, with hair much longer and somewhat repaired, I was still not very proud of my hair. College did not help much, what with all those mean girls making sure to point out how limp your hair looked. And then I went ahead and got my hair streaked. Twice. Within three years, too. So yeah, that just worsened everything further, with my hair looking fantastic now but feeling more like dreadlocks than the silky soft hair I once used to have. My erstwhile happiness - emanating from having healthy, good looking hair - was almost all gone. I missed that time when I was a little kid lost in her thoughts while mother took good care of my beautiful hair. I so wanted my old hair back (without losing those streaks though!)

Damaged and frayed after getting those highlights done.

 
And then a new phase began - the one that I like to call the 'Dove Phase'. I believe my readers know me enough to also know I do not indulge in mindless publicity of stuff that I get for free from companies wanting us bloggers to promote them. I wasn't even a Dove loyalist till about two years ago. I didn't care much about the shampoo I used, and if I did, it was never Dove. But then IndiBlogger and Dove suddenly started flooding my mailbox with frequent Dove haircare hampers, and left me with no choice but to start using Dove on my hair. But I realized soon that my hair was actually getting better and healthier with its usage. One look at my shiny flowing (though not too long) tresses now, and you'd know the huge difference there has been.

Even my mother, who is dead against relying on cosmetic products (read: conditioners and shampoo) to strengthen hair, seems to be convinced now, to a certain extent, of how good my hair has been getting lately. No wonder when the latest Dove Split End Rescue System advertisement came on TV, my mother surprisingly said, "I hope they send you samples of this one too. It looks like you could use some repairing on those ghastly split ends of yours." And she was right, because no matter how great your hair is, it is always being subjected to a lot of wear, tear and damage as you travel and experiment with your hair. Split ends are thus sort of inevitable. And anything to help repair them - a most welcome product! So I was most happy to receive the Dove Split End Rescue system sample and to try it on. And I must say, I have been flaunting my soft and suddenly more manageable hair for the last one week, keeping it open most of the time, even at home (something I NEVER, EVER did before.) And the ends look better than ever!

And that's my plume now - majestic, full of shine and with perfect ends. Sigh.

Dove, as a hair care regimen, has thus grown on me (and my mother and sister) over time. From being a childhood Goldilocks with beautiful braids with the perfect ends, to being an almost-hippie with horrible dreadlocks, I've been there and done that. And I've found Dove, in the end, to be the ultimate hair solution.