Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
There are two different kinds, I believe, of human attraction:
One which simply disturbs, unsettles, and makes you uneasy,
And another that poises, retains, and fixes and holds you.
I have no doubt, for myself, in giving my voice for the latter.
I do not wish to be moved, but growing where I was growing,
There more truly to grow, to live where as yet I had languished.
I do not like being moved: for the will is excited; and action
Is a most dangerous thing; I tremble for something factitious,
Some malpractice of heart and illegitimate process;
We are so prone to these things, with our terrible notions of duty.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Its Draupadi's narrative of the Mahabharata, but the cover will tell u that much, what lies inside this book is a woman's perspective through and through. Now, feminist as I am (mostly), I don't mean it in the "bechaari aurat fashion" but to point out the fact that Draupadi is portrayed wonderfully, she isnt a cardboard character, she isnt a woman who stood by while people fought over her, because of her. Bannerjee brings her Draupadi to life, while engaging her readers in the timeless epic tale, so often forgotten, The Mahabharata.
The Last Song of Dusk - Siddharth dhanvant Sanghvi
Sanghvi's novel starts with Anuradha, a fabled beauty and as someone says, "when Anuradha sings, even the moon steps out to listen". Anuradha's beauty is and can be described a hundred ways, but in the course of the book her loveliness lies in her wonderful simplicity, the simplicity of her thought, her straightforward innocence.
Two pages into the book, Anuradha is to meet Vardhmaan, to marry the man she's never met.
A relatively simple setting,you'll think, but Sanghvi truly is a master of words, he doesn't need a twist or a turn to make u take notice. Words are his forte, more than the subject, he effortlessly (seemingly) turns a description into such poetry, bringing to the scene an almost Neruda like touch and go feeling.
Other characters feature prominently in the tale, the eccentric Nandini, the sweet Pallavi, Edward - The forlorn English lover, who died not waiting for love, but merely waiting to give it, and most astonishingly Dariya Mahal, the house that carries forward a vengeance with an undermined elegance of a slithering snake.
There are so many shades of love, Sanghvi paints each one with a brilliance, the blush of the first meeting, the realisation that his wife brings to his life a feminine scent of roses, the orange of her blooming heart when he returns to her each evening, the mad purple of his dancing when she announces the child's impending arrival, the heavy blue of leaving the heart that loves you without pretension behind, the vast crimson of a young lover flinging into the night the little blue box that contained his promise to her , the undying black of holding your dead child.
Much after you have finished the book, you will find that you left a part of yourself on the chaise, in the half-moon balcony, next to the single black rose, where a White man died awaiting his lover, holding on to his promise.
I cannot hate Bengalis for no reason, it dawned on me recently, due to the fact that I have a wonderful roommate who's a bong and I am now reading this regularly, so I am a convert. I do apologise for unleashing on all Bongs the anger that a few bad encounters caused. to make up, Ami Bangla shikchchi, but that is all i know yet cause Ami Bangla bolte paari na completely :)
so long then.