LIFE AND TIMES OF A LONDON THUG I Lionel Asbo - Martin Amis I

In a street thick with smoke, looters smash their way into a local shop, steal whisky and beer. One man grabs a packet of cereal, another runs off laughing with four bottles of whisky. Out on the street many are pushing shopping carts full of stolen goods down the street.

London was woken out of bed with reports of such scenes on the night of August 7, 2011. The cops called it copy-cat criminal activity.
Local leaders dissociated their communities from the “hooligans and greedy criminals”.
As the dust began to settle, one thing became clear, these were unrestrained youth, as young as 10, with complete disregard for authority and fearlessness of the outcome.
Lionel Asbo, the central character of Martin Amis’ eponymous novel, is also the product of London’s underclass that became conspicuous in the aftermath of the August riots. Lionel gets his first restraining orders at the age of three and takes up ASBO (Anti-Social Behaviour Order) as his proud title, in place of the family name Pepperdine.
Shaven-headed Asbo is a 21-year-old violent criminal with a penchant for pitbulls and a complete contempt for the law; someone who takes pride in being stupid on purpose. He serves time off and on offences mostly related to extortion and stolen property.
Asbo’s prime concern is the “morals” of his mother Grace Pepperdine. Grace, who had a “mischievous” youth, was a mother of seven by the age of 19. Of all her children no two had the same father except Asbo and Cilla, who were therefore called twins. A grandmother at 39, Grace is having an affair and Asbo gets the wind of it. He wants to dig out who it is and “deal” with him. “Noises”, “groans” and “giggles” are reported from Grace’s apartment. One of the most frequent visitor’s to her house is her grandson, Cilla’s son and Asbo’s protégé Desmond and Asbo asks him to keep on a lookout.
Terrified Desmond is guilty of incestuous relationship with his grandmother. Asbo corners Rory Nightingale, a younger schoolmate of Desmond for having a fling with Grace. Rory goes missing and nothing is heard of him again. Desmond lives the rest of the story in fear of the day Asbo finds out about him and Gran, particularly when she slips into dementia and starts babbling about her various relationships.
Lionel Asbo: Sate of England is Amis’ 13th novel.
Set up in a fictional London borough called Diston where no one lives beyond 60, the novel is as much a satire on London’s underbelly as on the celebrity-obsessed society. Amis is best known for his 1984 novel Money: A Suicide Note which is about the debut film venture of John Self, a slob and constantly drunk director. Among other things, Self is a consumer of pornography and prostitutes much like Asbo who uses his Mac only for watching porn and tries to inculcate these “values” in his nephew: “With the Mac you can have three new bunk-ups every day — by using your imagination”. Sexual revolution, spiritual vacuity, physical and moral decay are some constant notes of Amis’ works. His last novel, The Pregnant Widow, received much acclaim after a success-deprived decade. In The Pregnant Widow Amis went back to Keith Nearing, who had appeared in his first and much loved novel Rachel Papers.
The story of Lionel Asbo gets a twist when Asbo, who is serving time in prison, comes to know that he has won a lottery of £140 million. With a fortune behind, this time he secures an early exit from the jail and checks into a high-profile hotel in Soho. While the lottery becomes his short-cut to class jump he becomes the mandatory front-page tabloid puller for his irreverent antics.
Gradually, as he gets wrapped in publicity concerns, he and his glamour-model girlfriend plan abortion as an exit-strategy to sell their break-up. His nephew, Desmond, however charts a different life altogether. From a boy who was thrashed for watching Crimewatch (as it asked people to tell on criminals) and encouraged to smash some windows instead of writing poetry, Desmond grows to become a crime reporter, gets married to his childhood sweetheart and becomes a father, much to the dismay of his uncle.
Martin Amis’ father, the famous writer Kingsley Amis had found his son’s writing “onanistic” and liked it “sporadically”.
Martin, who has not won the Booker yet, has often cited the “taint of heredity”. Following harsh reception of Yellow Dog (2003), Amis had moved to Uruguay for two years. He is currently located in New York for family reasons.
While Amis’ current novel draws an interesting array of characters, including Asbo’s girlfriend Thernody and Grandmother Grace, the story itself is severely emaciated. The use of language, styling of humour and satire are Martin’s strong points but he falters for the want of consistency as he expands his narration.
In an age when Asbo can easily watch porn on his laptop, the lottery notice is delivered at his home in a letter and milk is still delivered in bottles at the door step. Desmond’s journey to becoming a father is stretched like the Indian soaps programmes that pause and zoom in on expression with the sole purpose of delaying the climax. Though, Asbo himself is a master character, you only wish that Amis had not digressed.
However, what has particularly not gone down well with Amis’ London readers is the sub-title of the novel State of Nation.
Asbo is an anti-intellectual thug who breaks up weddings, beats up old men at pubs and traumatises the syntax of his native language. His family is severely dysfunctional and his life is without meaning or redemption. Clearly, calling that the “State of Nation” is not kindly looked upon, notwithstanding the fact that similar simplistic and touristy descriptions of India are usually hailed as insightful and often bestowed an award or two.

Crushes on wrong people: LGBT and a questioning Q I IN ONE PERSON by John Irving I

In a town called Little Sister in Vermont a 13-year-old boy is taken to the town library by his soon-to-be stepfather. The young boy Bill, who has a secret crush on his mother’s boyfriend, asks the librarian for a book on crushes on wrong people.

This is year 1955. The visit to the library is a moment of awakening for Bill and Miss Frost, the librarian, becomes the centre of his awakening for the next seven years.
Spoiler alert: It is impossible to write about this book without giving away the best, early surprises. After all, the story hinges on a process of discovery and acceptance of sexual choices. John Irving is not the writer for those who blush at the word sex. Draped in Irving’s words, sex and desire are powerful, unapologetic and unrestrained. So watch your step!
In One Person is Irving’s 13th novel. The story, as narrated by a bisexual male, is as much about sexual differences and tolerance as it is about his personal life and experiences. From being the story of a boy and a transgender the novel takes the whole town and several boys and girls who are “different” in its wake. It grows further, crossing cities and continents, attempting to become the voice of a period and of a silent battle for recognition.
As a young boy Bill has crushes on several people: his stepfather Richard, his school senior Kittredge, his best friend’s mother Martha Headley and not to forget the librarian Miss Frost. Bill hasn’t seen his father and is dolled out conflicting stories about his birth. His mother, he learns in due course of time, is somewhat sexually naïve. His aunt Muriel and grandmother Victoria are prudes who feel everyone else is below them. (Aunt Muriel keeps fainting at every mention of the word sex). Bill’s grandfather, who is a lumberman, competes with his daughter Muriel for female roles in the town theatre productions. Surprisingly, he is often preferred over Muriel. Cross-dressing grandpa Harry’s performances are loved by many but also equally reviled.
The Favourite River Academy, is a boys’ boarding school with its typical homo-hating culture. School psychiatrist Dr Grau tells the boys they are in “a polumorphous-perverse phase” and that they were experiencing “pregenital libidinal fixations”. The much-hated Dr Harlow, on the other hand speaks to them about “treatable afflictions” including “an unwelcome sexual attraction to other boys and men.”
While Bill’s life at the boarding school is occupied by his conflicting crushes, it is also occupied, in equal measure by theatre. Bill is cast in the role of “sexually mutable” Aerial while his nemesis Kittredge is Ferdinand and grandfather Harry is a female Caliban.
Bill has a speech difficulty. While The Tempest is being played, he is unable to say “Thou liest” or later the word “shadow” in King Lear. Miss Frost helps him with these two effectively but his difficulty with the word penis stays till the end. Kittredge, the seemingly alpha male, is the cause of much distress to Bill. He is a great wrestler and an equally good actor but he is also a bully. He calls Bill “Nymph” and is effortlessly mean to both Billy and his friend Elaine.
Bill is forced to come out with his sexual differences after a scandal that follows Bill’s discovery of the one-time unbeaten wrestling champion Big El. Soon after, Bill also cracks the puzzle about his missing father Franny Dean. Bill is barred from meeting Miss Frost who is suspended from the library and forced to relocate. Miss Frost leaves, but not before teaching Bill a wrestler’s “duck under”, preparing him for the fight he was yet to face. In 1961, Bill’s school life ends after a brief Europe tour with Tom Atkins who constantly yearns for Bill’s attention. Bill never sees Miss Frost again. But Kitteredge and Atkins resurge later, both with their pack of secrets and tragedy.
The story branches out into Bill and Elaine’s numerous experiences. In the 80s, “the plague” strikes. Bill loses several friends to AIDS. While Larry, once his professor-lover, toils to help the ailing, Bill watches from a distance. It is only when Larry falls ill that Bill takes charge and owns up responsibility to those like him.
Irving gives it the perfect ending with Bill resolving the most crucial and yet unexplored aspect of his life. The story is told in a tragi-comic light. While it is not what one would call a “simple story”, the humour brings in the sense of simplicity in a complex world. The cliché-encumbered grandmother, the aunt who doesn’t want to be stared at, the Norwegian lumberman who has a passion for drama or the “damaged” mother who is easily seduced, provide the essential breathing spaces.
In the novel, sex is crucial and bold. While it is kept between two people; man-man, man-woman, man-transsexual; sex here is more about individuals and their specific requirements and responses. Irving is not short of words while writing about sex, but in each case his purpose is clear. Far from being either comic or gagging, the sex scenes make you sit up and savour, irrespective of who is involved.
The ending sees a somewhat heroic return of Bill. He does for a “work-in-progress” girl what Miss Frost had done for him. A revolution comes of age as the girl introduces herself “Gee will do for now… but I’m going to be Georgia someday.” Moreover, its not just LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender), but also a Q for questioning.

Singapore’s Inspector Singh lands in Mumbai I INSPECTOR SINGH INVESTIGATES: A CURIOUS INDIAN CADAVER by Shamini Flint I

A Sikh cop in Singapore police is bullied into coming to Mumbai by his Indian wife. Inspector Singh is a murder specialist and the minute he reaches the flat of his wife’s cousin he knows something is afoot.
Shamini Flint, a Singapore-based author of the well-known series Inspector Singh Investigates, brings Singh’s investigation to India in her latest book. Singh is a turbaned Sikh whose father had left the country years ago. Mumbai, with all its tell-tale squalor and con-men, is a shock to him. His Google-savvy wife is more at ease though. The Singhs, who have come to attend a wedding in the family, soon realise that they have stepped into the middle of a crisis: the bride is missing. Instantly, Singh, who had
resigned himself to Indian hospitality, is back in his elements. He says what everyone suspects, "Perhaps she ran away". The grandfather of the girl is furious with Singh as are her two brothers. But their prime concern is to keep the cops at bay, so Singh is assigned the task of finding the girl. Ashu Kaur, the missing bride, is the favourite grandchild of Tara Baba, a reputed industrialist.
While Singh investigates, the cops report a charred female cadaver. Ashu’s elder brother Tanvir identifies the body by its ruby earrings. The family breaks into mourning. As Singh investigates, several skeletons pop out: a Muslim boyfriend, Ashu’s work at a slum near the factory where she was employed and a mysterious ailment, a money trail.
The final blow comes with the post-mortem report that says Ashu was pregnant. By now everyone seems to have a stake in Ashu’s death and Tara Baba trusts Singh with the task of bringing out the truth.
Singh finds that on the D-day Ashu had secretly met her boyfriend Sameer, visited her boss about the factory and was picked up by her younger brother who was out looking for her. As the mystery deepens Tara Baba himself is killed on the day of Ashu’s funeral and Tanvir swears to boot out the meddling Singh.
Flint weaves an exciting story with its fair share of twists, turns and drama. Singh makes an interesting investigative officer with his wife as his self-appointed assistant. The husband and wife, identified only as Mr and Mrs Singh, also bring in the essential comic relief. Singh fails to understand why anyone will ask for a washing machine in dowry as his wife explains the tradition to him. He is also at a loss why a girl may be killed for marrying outside her religion. Despite his pot-belly Singh is smart and agile. He picks up clues and hits it off with the local policemen. Flint’s novel is a quick and entertaining read and for the romantics at heart, it has a happy ending too.

POCKETS FULL OF POETRY I Indian Poetry Festival organised by Sahitya Akademi I

The human world is styled in words. While nature provides the style, it is the poets who provide the words. A vibrant cosmos of words emerged in Delhi last week at the Indian Poetry Festival "The World within the Word". Shaping of words was the first act of poetry, said vice-president of Sahitya Akademi, Vishwanath Tiwari, who opened the festival. Poets, he said, are creatures who thrive on words, "Poets like Tukaram eat, wear and live on words." Having said this he paused, "This is the day of poetry, so we will keep prose at bay," and briskly drawing out his papers, he presented two of his
poems in Hindi: Jagah (Place) and Aatma (Soul).
Nearly 25 poets from different languages and different parts of the country followed and a master symphony of ideas and emotions emerged. Poets presented at least one poem their native language and the rest in translation.
Eminent Hindi poet Kedarnath Singh drew attention to the poetry of international expats in India. He said it was a genre which had not received enough attention. Citing the example of Tibetan poetry, he read out lines from a piece by a young Tibetan on exile in India: I am a Tibetan-Indian/ I live in India/ I dream of dying in Tibet. With the constant struggle for identity at its core, the poet, a young man, narrates in simple words how he must carry his certificates to prove his identity and how easily he is mistaken for someone from India’s east or north. On the power and life of words, he presented a poem
Shabd (Word). "Words don’t die in cold / it’s the lack of courage/ that kills them." Kedarnath said that considerable growth is taking place in poetry but on the fringes. New voices that challenge and break the centre are emerging. "These voices must be heard if one has to understand the reality of the 21st century India," he added.
In the vein of Romantic poets, well-known Dogri poet Padma Sachdeva emphasised that only that which emerges from the heart qualifies as poetry. Her verses carried an acute awareness of nature and projected its forces as alive and communicative. In one of her poems titled, Air, she says the villagers had "packed’ some of it for her as they had bid her farewell. She carries the village air around with her and uses it whenever she missed home. The pristine village air with its unique aroma of incense in the morning, crops in the afternoon and wet soil in the evening is a part of the heritage that she has received and wishes to pass on to her daughter. In another poem, she is the sky that says: I am not the king without an heir/ My lap is filled with children/ I am India’s sky.
Another poet who brought the inanimate to life through her verses was Varsha Das. Two of her poems were titled Mitti and Daraaj. While in Mitti (Soil) she spoke of a dead soil made fertile by a person’s dreams, in Daraaj (Drawer) she gives a beating heart to a piece of furniture. In Daraaj she is an old woman who keeps misplacing her things. To solve this problem her daughter gets a cupboard with several drawers. The drawers are labelled alphabetically so that: the job is just to set/ specs in S/ watch in W/ and pen in P. But things get complicated as the watch lands up in another drawer that has a throbbing, loving heart.
Tamil poet Salma came up with poems on women issues and sensibilities. In a moving piece she drew upon the life of Somalian women who suffered the terrible tradition of sewing up of the vagina to prevent their "pollution". The subject of each recital was unique and as a result the poems ranged from the Berlin Wall to Irome Sharmila, from a key to a wall, and a stammer to a secret. While one poet
like Subodh Sarkar (Bengali) came up with politically charged free verses another one like Nisar Rahi (Urdu) broke the pattern with witty and insightful couplets. Each poet took you to a different journey into a different world lighting the way with his words. The event, organised by Sahitya Akademi, was thin on audience. However, those present were serious fans, shedding an occasional tear or breaking into a frequent "wah wah".
Looking at the audience Padma Sachdev recounted her young days when iconic poet Ramdhari Singh "Dinkar" would moan that perhaps the era poetry had ended. But he was wrong, she said, we still write poetry and there are people who can’t have enough of it.

A SIMPLE TALE OF BASEBALL, TOLD IN STYLE I Calico Joe by John Grisham I

The basics of baseball are simple but the game is complicated. There is a pitcher, a  hitter and in this case there is an 11-year-old boy too in a crowd of 55,000 at the stands.  But this is no ordinary match. It is the last match that the two will play and the last that  the third will watch. It is also the match that will haunt the 11-year-old Paul Tracey years  later when he is a happily married man.

John Grisham, known for his best-selling legal thrillers has another passion: baseball.  The first book in which he infused the verve of the game was A Painted House. Calico  Joe is the latest work of fiction from Grisham in which you can "watch" the game.  Grisham knows his curveballs from fastballs but doesn’t expect you to know the same. He doesn’t assume that you will know or should know or will find out about the game.  Infact, he provides an engaging introduction to baseball. This is an introduction unlike any other and must not be skipped. He puts you on the home plate, gives you the bat  and makes you face the pitch. You find yourself hitting home runs, throwing a drag bunt and cutting a ground ball. By the end of these pages you are singing baseball. From this happy start, Grisham takes you to the middle of a family tragedy: A father on the death bead with pancreatic cancer. The father here is Warren Tracey, who once played for the Mets. The news of Warren’s impending death causes no stir in the lives of those around him. His daughter and first wife want nothing to do with him but his son Paul has a score to settle. While it seems to us that he has set out to meet his dying father, he has a different plan up his sleeve. He is in Calico Rock, Arakansas, where he must go with an alias. The town hates his father Warren Tracey who had "beaned" Joe Castle. As a result of the throw, Joe is maimed for life as are all hopes in Calico Rock. Paul decides he must coax, compel and even blackmail his dying father to come to Calico Rock and say sorry.

Warren Tracey is a hardened man with a failed career in baseball; a philanderer, given to drinking and violent behaviour. Meeting his son is another of the life’s formalities that he is forced to go through. But the moment Paul reveals his real purpose, he throws off all garbs of civility and digs his heels in. Going to Calico Rock is a big no. The book is named after its third and most important character, Joe Castle. In his early twenties, Joe is the best thing that has happened to baseball in a long time. He is a hitter and an extraordinary one. On his first day of a league match, he thrashes half-a-dozen records. With him the Chicago Cubs look formidable, almost invincible. But one unfortunate game watched by Paul and pitched by Warren changes it all. Joe is also my only serious problem with the book. He gets to say the least and as a result hardly looks real. While the story actually revolves around him, it hardly attempts to looks inside him.

Grisham is not the most insightful of the writers but he knows how to tell a story. He has a simple tale but tells it in style. Baseball is the heart and soul of the narrative. One can feel the rush of a packed stadium, the focus of the pitcher, crush of the ball against the skull. He doesn’t delve into the recesses of human mind but makes his story authentic and gives all actions an arguable reason. Given Grisham’s brisk style, Calico Joe makes an interesting read. It puts the thrill of a game on the larger canvas of life. The argument that baseball is a game for children spoiled by adults holds true for this book. Followers of the game will of course find a lot meat and the faithless will be dreaming home runs before the last page is reached.

DRIFTER, CHARMER, ACTOR, CHEAT I The Flying Man by Roopa Farooki I

Some battle for a normal life, others fight against it. The "flying man" in Roopa Farooki’s novel belongs to the latter.
Sunny, alias Maqil, alias MSK, alias Mikhail Lee, is a freak genius and an anti-hero. For him, what is normal is redundant and hence repulsive. He goes through his life like a play act and dares to change the script mid-way. He will not suffer boredom and throws away both fortune and love in his persistent bid to escape lichés.
Born in Punjab of 1931 he is Sunny for his parents and Maqil for the family in which all first-born sons bear the same name. At 16, Sunny is dashing, glamorous and street-smart; the star of the family. A train of fans from urchins, servants to his own parents follows him everywhere. He is the Pied Piper and everyone is happy to step up to his tune. He is already blackmailing his school seniors into loaning their father’s Bentley and is advising the bookstore owner to sell tea and coffee along with books.
This is the only section where Maqil’s character sounds forced and stalk-type. Hereon, Ms Farooki builds with force and remarkable consistency. Maqil emerges as someone who’s foremost motive is to surprise his audience, whatever the cost.
In America, where he goes to study, he is MSK, a mystery, a phenomenon of sorts. No one knows where he is from and when asked he says, "Everyone knows who I am and if they don’t , they should."
In 1965 he is Mehmet, married and settled with a job in Egypt. He leaves for work one day and never returns to his wife, never writes or calls for the simple reason of being bored. Maqil’s arguments are unnerving for their cold, murderous simplicity. Ms Farooki handles this complex character with great craftsmanship. One can’t resist liking him despite his almost criminal egotism.
In 1969 he is at the blackjack table at a casino in France. From a few thousand francs he swells to a hundred thousand. Wining is too easy for him but he loses too just to get that symphony of oohs and aah from onlookers. He loses till he is left with a sparse scattering of chips and celebrates with champagne his narrow escape from fame and fortune.
In 1970, he is back in Lahore where he meets Samira. She is a Bengali Christian; skinny, espresso-skinned and very glamorous. Love strikes Maqil. Samira is an unusual woman, hence, a perfect match for him. In another three years the  two are married and have moved to London.
One of the best achievements of Ms Farooqi in this book is her characters. They are all unique, almost eccentric yet convincing and endearing. Samira is no sweet-talking, innocent chick with haunting eyes. She is the "modern" woman with cosmetics in her drawer, brands in her wardrobe and wits that can outsmart Maqil. Samira is perpetually on diet and has trained herself to throw up food after plush
parties.
Maqil and Samira are made-for-each-other but that’s too simple a script for Maqil to play. So he decides it is time for him to be a father. Samira is of course too smart and knows him too well to let that happen, so he cheats her, switches her pills and soon she is pregnant. With the twins between them Maqil soon has to move ahead but not before attempting to trick Samira out of her money. But Samira is never a damsel in distress and can see through the act he puts up for the world.
From London he goes to Madrid, then to Marbella-Spain, Hong Kong, Paris and finally Biarritz. He swindles people out of their money, dabbles in forgery of art and passports and crosses continents till too many people are on lookout for him. He marries a third time to a matronly Bernadette in Hong Kong but Samira is always the only love of his life. His twins grow up angry and estranged.
The vibrant milieu of this novel ensures there is never a dull moment. Ms Farooki is an expert at getting inside the characters and making them speak. From Samira to the twins to Bernadette and even the minor characters are intriguing but not elusive. The story is written as a letter by Maqil at the end of his life. He is old and broke and has refused persistent efforts by his children to take him home as that would be too simple an end.
He sticks to his fight for a life lived unusually, till the very end. The letter writing though gets forgotten in the tide of the story. The initial few pages are quickly forgotten and seem to be somewhat disconnected from the rest of the novel that is remarkably well-knit.
After you finish the novel the lines on the book cover also begin to sound strange: "I was once a son, a husband, a father. And now I am a storyteller."Maqil never played the role of son, husband and father with conviction. He is always a storyteller.
The Flying Man may strike some as a story of a highly-selfish man. Maqil has little regard for others in his life. He seems almost Camusian in his disrespect for all that is established and acceptable. A man who sticks to his flawed vision of life till the end causing immense pain to all he knows.
He comes across as almost heartless. But that’s not entirely true. In his life filled with depravity, Maqil has just one acute regret. Quite like her creation, Ms Farooki’s surprises the audience, and gives a story unlike any other.

An Afghan’s odyssey I In the Sea There are Crocodiles by Fabio GedaI

At the age of 10, Enaiatollah Akbari sets out with his mother from his village Nava, in Afghanistan. After a perilous journey, they arrive in Quetta, Pakistan. She makes him swear three things: Never to use drugs; never to use weapons; never to cheat or steal.
This advice is all he has when his mother leaves in the quiet of the night to return to her other children back in Nava.

With most of the odds against him, chances of Enaitollah’s survival in a new, hostile country are bleak. But he survives to tell his poignant tale. The story is told by Fabio Geda as a series of conversations with Enaitollah. These conversations between the author and the protagonist are spread through the narrative. Written in Italian, the book has been translated into English by Howard Curtis.

Abandoned in Quetta, Enait picks up odd manual jobs. Even when he is reduced to a mere street urchin, he misses his days at school and Buzul Bazi, a dice game played a bone taken from a sheep’s foot after it’s been boiled. He listens to the children playing during school recess, longing to join them but is forced to go out into a world where a simple request for water elicits a scathing reply: First tell who are you? Are you a Shia or a Muslim. By now Eniat has learnt his lessons as he shoots back, "First I am a Shia, then I am a Muslim. Or rather, first I am a Hazara, then Shia then a Muslim." Hazara, inhabitants of Ghazni province, are identified by their almond eyes and flatter noses. While some claim to be descendants of Genghis Khan’s army others claim to have come down from Koshans, the legendary builders of the Bamiyan Buddhas. "Some others say we’re saves and treat us like slaves," says Enaitollah. Fed up of being treated badly, he decides to go to Iran, where he had heard "things were much better". Here begins  Eniat’s association with people traffickers, cramped trucks and the constant fear of Telisia and Sang Safid, the immigrant detention centres. At the Iranian city of Isfahan, he picks up the job at a construction site, which is where most of the illegal migrants worked. But with the constant police raids and the sword of deportation hanging on his head, Eniat decides to move again; this time to Turkey. This journey is far more challenging than anything he had been through. From Salmas, the last city in Iran and
closest to the mountains, begins a 27-day trek across snow-capped mountains.

On arriving in Istanbul, it becomes clear that there was no work to be found there. A journey further ahead to Greece is imminent. Here ensues a voyage in a dinghy which ends in his landing at a Greek port town without any clothes. The journey to Mytilene and thereon to Rome is largely aided by kind-hearted people. Enaitollah’s tale is a real-life account not a fictionalised narrative. His journey, that spans from Nava to Turin, may bring to mind the century-old adventures of Kipling’s Kim. This is however a much more realistic account pared of all the romance of adventure and powered by the sole grit to survive. Enaitollah refuses to name most of the people and places. "Facts are important," he tells Fabio, "The story is important. It’s what happens to you that change your life, not where or who with." While debating if they should take the journey to Greece in a dinghy, a fellow Afghan mentions the threat of crocodiles in the sea. The only answer available at that time to the group of young boys in desperate search of a better life is that there are no crocodiles in the sea. A postscript to the novel notes that Eniat, who is now 22 years old, and has received asylum in Italy, has discovered that there really are crocodiles in the sea.

The circus of dreams I THE NIGHT CIRCUS by Erin Morgenstern I

In 1886 a circus arrives in London: Le Cirque des Rêves (the Circus of Dreams). A notice at its entrance announces "Opens at Nightfall, Closes at dawn". On the night of October 13, the gates of the circus are thrown open. One steps into a world of wonder. Everything in the circus follows a pattern of black and white colours. As people move from tent to tent, they admire the curiosities. From painfully slow-moving human statues to a giant clock that turns itself inside out, everything in this circus touches the point of bizarre. Nothing is out of step, everything is too perfect. As the clock strikes midnight, a giant bonfire is lit by 12 archers. As each of their barbs produces a different colour at the bonfire, two people in the circus realize the "game" had begun.
The "game" is a challenge between two magicians Hector Bowen and AH, who swore their students into a battle of magic. The rules of the game are not clear perhaps because there are no rules. The students Celia and Marco, are mere kids when their "preparation" for the challenge beings. While Marco spends cold, comfortless days in intense study, Celia is subject to painful exercise like her fingers being cut up so she can repair them "magically".  
The Night Circus is Erin Morgenstern’s first novel. Morgenstern, who lives in Massachusetts and is also multimedia artiste, describes all her work as "fairy tales in one way or another". Morgenstern’s peculiar brand of imagination works on details: frill and cut of dresses, smells that bring back memories, rain seeping slowly into clothes. The details present themselves through the magical world of the novel.  
The night circus is the stage where the challenge of wizards is played out. Celia is the illusionist in the circus and Marco is the owner’s assistant.  While, the bonfire lit by Marco powers the circus, Celia is the one who transports and "holds the circus together". The other members of the circus, including its owner Chandresh, have little clue about the real magic in action. The challenge involves a series of move with the two players adding their own magical tents to the circus and trying to gain control of it. Both Marco and Celia find themselves increasingly in awe of each other’s skills. By now the circus has tents like cloud maze, pool of tears, wishing tree, ice garden, desert world, to name a few. A steady group of fans known as rêveurs, follow the circus around. They dress in the trademark black and white of the circus but with a flourish of red. Meanwhile, the members of the circus don’t seem to age and begin to suspect something is wrong.
The admiration between Celia and Marco blooms into love soon, followed by the realization that the challenge would never end as long as both of them are alive.    
There is nothing ingenious about the story, given the rush of fantasy fiction in the last decade. While the magical challenge of Marco and Celia is played out in the world of muggles it is not clear how the two worlds interact.
This book would have been an ordinary work of fiction but for its stylized narrative. The story beings with the declaration: "The circus arrives without a warning." As you read the first chapter, you know Morgenstern is not in a hurry to tell her story. She lets the story breathe, slowly. Though, at 387 pages, it means a lot of breathing, but her prose has a lilt to it that accounts for more magic than all the charms in the book put together. She commits her blunders too, losing her rhythm to adjectives but pulls herself together.
Love between Marco and Celia is not something you see coming, given their detached rivalry. It does not sprout at the spur of the moment but evolves gradually, culminating to the point where both create breathtaking illusions for each other. A particularly interesting scene is the one where the two meet face to face as opponents for the first time. There are no pretences and secrets as the two wizards share details of how each controls the circus and what they are capable of. There is no love interest, but a
compulsion of having been unwillingly bound together by fate. While Celia stabs her hand with a dagger and heals it, Marco recreates a garden: What had been little more than a stack of rough stones moments before is now set and carved into ornate arches and pathways, covered in crawling vines and speckled with bright, tiny lanterns.
Contrived, yet compelling.

I am, therefore I am [ WELCOME TO AMERICASTAN by JABEEN AKHTAR ]

There are three stages experienced by one coming face to face with someone from Pakistan, explains Samira, the protagonist of Welcome to Americastan. First, disbelief that someone from the world’s most notorious brown country

ended up in the same room as you; second, fear and excitement that this Pakistani could have sinister ties with some of the terrible news events; third, the formulation of a bone-headed comment: You gave Bin Laden a house before our boys took his left eye out. Or, what an interesting time to be from Pakistan. With all the terrorists being from there and all.
There is method in the crazy humour.
I caught up with Jabeen Akhtar when she was in Delhi last week for the release of her first book, Welcome to Americastan. Akhtar is light-hearted, “cool” and surprisingly clear-headed. “It’s okay. We can survive people laughing at us,” she says before breaking into a giggle.
“It’s important to just sit back and laugh at ourselves and let other people laugh,” says Jabeen. “Humour is missing in any idea or literature about Pakistanis and Muslims. All the heavy elements on the subject have been out there for some time now, I wanted this book to give a kind of fresh
perspective.”
Welcome to Americastan deals with a peculiar Pakistani family that she calls “almost dysfunctional”, with each member seemingly headed in a different direction, with zero idea of what’s right or wrong.
It has a dramatic opening, throwing us right in the middle of a mother-daughter brawl. “Haramzadi! Awara! Bewaqoof!” Samira’s mother screams at her. Samira, or Sam, has come home, in Cary, North Carolina, after losing her job and her boyfriend of eight years in Washington, D.C., besides managing to get her name on the FBI’s terrorist watch list. None of this is known to her parents who think their daughter is home for a weekend. She bargains with her siblings to help her tow in her luggage secretly but is caught red-handed.
Here is a bizarre family in a state of disarray. Samira’s sister Meena doesn’t mind giving a blow job to a stranger at a party to get some weed for her heartbroken elder sister. Later she brings a female date to the elder brother’s Muslim wedding. Khalid, the elder brother who is about to get married, can think of
little other than videogames. He blows up the money saved up
for his marriage to get a fancy gadget.
The parents on the other hand carry deep memories and a longing for Pakistan. The father narrates how his date of birth was “estimated” after his mother
said he was born around an epidemic in India, on a cold rainy night with ber littered around trees. The children are unable to relate to any of this.
A new trend in the expatriat community comes across. “The concept of identifying with geography is becoming more and more irrelevant for second generation children in the US,” says Akhtar. “You don’t get a sense of ‘I belong to this country’; it’s more like I’m just out there, floating about in the world’.”
The author, who was brought up in the US, says she had been in Pakistan for less than a fortnight in her entire life. “It was nothing like I had imagined it to be. I had thought people there would look like me, think like me, be cool... but it was nothing like that. A lot of things I did there were inappropriate.”
Much like Akhtar, her protagonist also rejects being classified as either an American or Pakistani or Pakistani-American.
Back home, Samira looks for ways to recover from her heartbreak. She begins to help her father at PAC-PAC, a civic organisation he started in the aftermath of 9/11.
Samira has a brush with racism at a store when an angry woman swears at her, “F***ing Arabs”, and then adds, “Welcome to America.” Samira is surprised to find people around her more angry and upset at this than she is. Despite being the “victim”, she has to comfort and pacify the crowd.
Later she thinks of the retort that would have trounced her opponent, “Hey b***h, didn’t you hear? It’s called Americastan now.”
Still unable to get over her ex-boyfriend Ethan, Samira ends up in an affair with a guy at her gym. Meanwhile, at PAC-PAC things begin to get difficult as some members oppose helping non-Muslim Pakistanis through the organisation. At one of the meetings the debate even turns into proving who is a better Muslim.
The fact that Samira had been put on the FBI’s terror list is revealed to her father at a crucial PAC-PAC meeting. The author puts Samira’s brush with law in a comic light: After realising that her boyfriend had left her for her bestfriend, she chases them and tries to run them over. She is caught by the cops and becomes a terror suspect. However, when she returns home, nothing troubles her more than the end of her relationship with Ethan. Being on the terror list seems to be the last thing on her mind. “It would be difficult for someone who thinks about his/her identity all the time to come out of such an experience,” says Akhtar. “But for someone for whom identity is not an issue it would be a joke.”
Meanwhile, Khalid is going to get married to his girlfriend, a white catholic, much to the dismay of his parents who insist on a Muslim wedding by a maulvi from Pakistan.
At the wedding Ethan is also invited and Samira prepares for the final faceoff.
The story has a young, hip tone. This is the view of the world from someone who doesn’t listen to newsroom debates or reads winding editorials.
The narrative does begin to lag towards the end, sounding nothing more than a girl’s pursuit of her ex-boyfriend. But humour being the touchstone, it keeps the story together.
Akhtar takes an unapologetic view of Pakistani expats. She doesn’t feel the need to “appear” American or even Pakistani. Like her, Samira belongs to an increasingly threatened brand of liberal-minded people. But her beliefs are not shaken either by the “terrorist” label or by a peer group that doesn’t share her views. Neither does she come across as a smug rebel. “Rebellious?... Oh, it’s nothing that glamorous. We’re just suburbanites,” she says.
Akhtar cleverly inserts thought into a largely humorous novel. She often manipulates farce and gives it a surprise sentimental twist. The father, for example, time and again uncovers his “Partition-era” scar for the children to see. The display is followed by a “scar speech” to remind them how hard the struggle was and how privileged they had been. This comic family scene takes a sharp turn in the end. “It is a part of me,” father tells Samira, “and it follows me wherever I go, but all I have to do is put on a shirt, you see. Cover it up and I can start over… that is why everybody comes to America.”

KARMA CHAMELEON I The Man Of A Thousand Chances by Tulsi Badrinath I

During the reign of 17th century emperor Jehangir, gold coins were minted for the king’s beloved wife Nur Jahan. She became the only empress to have her own coinage without ascending the throne. One of the biggest Mughal coins, the 1,000-mohur, weighing around 12 kilograms was also minted in this period.

This coin found its way to the coffers of the Nizam of Hyderabad, Mir Osman Ali, and is now locked away in a Swiss vault. It is one such coin that becomes the karma leash of Harihar Arora in Man of a Thousand Chances.

Weighing two kilograms and worth millions, the coin is in a Chennai museum where Harihar works and hatches the plan to “borrow” it. As Harihar’s colleagues watch mahouts trying to control an enraged elephant, he steals the Jahangir coin and rushes straight to the pawnbroker.
Having pawned the invaluable piece for `2 lakhs, guilt-ridden Harihar goes home to his wife Sarla and soon-to-be-married daughter Meeta. Harihar is determined he will return the money and restore the coin soon after Meeta’s wedding. Harihar notices his wife’s crumpled sari and preoccupied look. He resents her transformation from the shy woman who would greet him at the door wearing fresh clothes and a special smile. He recoils at sight of her tooth that had turned blue and could not be cured because of the money involved. As his daughter displays before him the purchases of the day he is drawn into a labyrinth of memories. The story of how his father had moved to Chennai for business unfolds. Harihar’s estranged relationship with his elder brother Ashok had led him to move out of the family business and the family house. He had then found a job at the museum and a mentor in his boss Mahadevan.
From Sarla’s angle, the world looks different. The fact that she trades in shares has been kept hidden from her husband all these years. He believes she spends her time trying to sell plastic kitchen boxes and “getting nowhere”. That, however, is far from truth. She has a mind and flair for business and is able to earn some money out of it. Another hidden name arises as we hear Sarla’s story: Ratan, the son who had gone missing and was never found. Despite all the years Sarla grieves for her lost son and somehow holds Harihar responsible for him.
A second generation north Indian in Chennai, Harihar’s household is a queer mix of traditions and language. Sarla’s learns bits of Tamil from her maid and the family works out a part-Tamil part-north Indian menu for the wedding. With sufficient cash at hand now, Harihar buys his wife and daughter saris of their choice. He has invested in a fund which will come to maturity soon after Meeta’s wedding. From this Harihar plans to buy back the coin. While the wedding is in progress Harihar gets to know that the fund managers are unable to pay back investors. On the other hand, the coin is spotted by a collector who recognises it’s real value and takes it from the pawnbroker. The pawnbroker tells Harihar the coin had been melted down. Dejected and beaten, Harihar is sure the loss of coin will be discovered anytime soon. Fate, however, has several surprises in store for him. Not only does he escape being accused of theft but is also able to mend his decaying relationship with his wife.
While one might think a second chance can make a world of a difference, this is the story of the man who gets a thousand. Caught in the storm of affairs surrounding his life, Harihar makes desperate attempt to make sense of it. His boss and mentor Mahadevan helps him connect the dots between karma and destiny. As Mahadevan takes him through a tedious journey from Gita’s karma to Schopenhauer’s will, Harihar emerges a man ready to take charge of his tumultuous life.
The Man of a Thousand Chances is Tulsi Badrinath’s second novel. She has made an attempt to bring together aspects of karma and art. She is unable, however, to weave the theme into the story. The exploration of karma and art by Mahadevan towards the end stands aloof from the rest of the narrative. It is also hard to believe that a mere lecture could induce a major change in Harihar. However, Tulsi has a keen eye for detail and her portrayal of family life is seamless. Be it Meeta stealing glances at the picture of her fiancé or the husband, wife and daughter filling their weekly store of water; the descriptions are warm and colourful.
One finds it hard to reconcile how a man may get so many chances while the others struggle for a single go. If we were to believe the words of Harihar’s mentor Mahadevan, that’s where karma comes into play. The story moves through pensive scenes without breaking into a common laugh at the face of destiny. While to a simple man like Harihar Schopenhauer may be too much to understand, humour can provide the perfect umbrella to take shelter from the moods of karma. After all a coin is as much a slave of karma as the man who carries it.

Truly Asia: Love in times of turmoil I THUNDER DEMONS by DIPIKA MUKHERJEE I

What goes into the bitter-sweet broth of an Asian tale? Fry a pinch of radical politics with a subversive plot. Add a spoonful of mystery. Marinate some individuals in love and mystery and throw them into the political frying pan. Whip the beans of mystery with past till they are a smooth cream. As the soup comes to a boil, add a piece of tragedy and let the broth sizzle. Garnish with desi flavour and serve. Conceived on these lines, Dipika Mukherjee gives us a perfect Asian tale in her novel Thunder Demons. The novel was long-listed for Man Asian Literary Prize (2009).

The mixed Malaysian culture of Chinese, Indians and Malays provides the perfect ground for the action to unfold. The sensitive ethnic equation of the country and a constant political simmering are the backbone of the novel. Incidents like the Malay authorities seizing 20,000 Bibles for referring to God as Allah, find an echo in the story.
As the book opens we find a sinister Colonel S tying explosives onto a Tibetan model who is thereafter executed. Issues of attire and conduct of women are a part of the brewing social upheaval.
Jayantha or Jay, a professor at an American university, is called back to Malaysia by his mentor Colonel S. For Jay, Malaysia is a bank full of memories. He writes to his dead friend Shanti’s daughter Agnibina. In Agni’s honest reply Jay sees the prospects of an exciting visit. Meanwhile, Colonel S is hatching a terrible plot for which he intends to enlist the help of his best recruit, Jay. A stent filled with super-explosives in place of drugs, is the project for which he needs Jay’s help. Though aware of his ulterior motives, Jay decides to go back and lay at rest the “demon tooth” of Shanti.
On his arrival Jay finds himself in the midst of a mass protest. A large number of Indian men have gathered to protest the “growing arrogance of a Master Race of Malays.”
Jay’s visit rattles Agni’s bedridden grandmother Shapna and so a trail of secrets begins to spill out. Through her gurgling sounds Shapna tries to warn her granddaughter about Jay but is unable to.
Agni, recently back from a long affair in the US, knows Shapna hadn’t told her the real story of her birth. Though back in Malaysia, Agni isn’t sure of her relationship with the land where her mother lost her life for love.
Abhik, the son of Mridula and Ranjan, is a lawyer and is the voice of minorities in the country. Agni and Abhik are in love.
A multi-layered story unfolds as grandmother Shapna tells us about her journey from India to Malaysia. A child bride Shapna was taken by Nikhil, 40 years her senior. As a stunning Shapna looks the groom’s side in the eye, everyone knows she is an unusual bride. Brought to Malaysia, young Shapna finds little comfort in her marriage. As she loses her first child during the years of First World War her best friend Siti (a Malay) nurses her with Malaysian magic. Siti evokes charms for a child to come to Shapna and soon the duo “find” Shanti. This story of Shanti being a fairy child is passed onto her daughter Agni.
However, what Agni does not know is why years later Siti is shocked to see her vagrant husband Zanial’s shadow merge with that of young Shanti. Why Shapna refuses to let Shanti become Zanial’s second wife. Why do Zanial and Siti vanish from the scene? Shanti drowns to her death after Jay, spurned in love by her, reveals the Oedipal truth of her birth.
Still burdened by the death of Shanti, Jay now falls in love with her daughter Agni and watches as death strikes Agni’s life.
The shifting point-of-views of Shapna, Colonel S and Jay reveal the complex story of three Indian and one Malay family. While Shapna hates Jay and holds him responsible for the death of her daughter, Jay grudges her liaison with his father. Colonel S, on the other hand, is embroiled in a political plot and driven by the idea of Malay supremacy. The most powerful of the three is the voice of Shapna: “I was brought up hearing that a woman’s life is like that of a Koi fish, hanging on to life despite all odds. Such was the idiom of acceptance for other women, never for me.”
Dipika Mukherjee, who is currently Professor of linguistics at Shanghai International Studies University, is a gifted story-teller. The narrative moves forward in a mystery maze as characters emerge in bits and pieces. Though the story has a distinct cultural flavour one can’t help asking for more. You also miss the picturesque life of Malaysia which gets nudged out in bid to make room for a complex story.
Malaysia’s tourism logo “Truly Asia” works as a foil as the country is seen falling apart over the question: who is “Bhumiputra”. A past muddled by invaders a present plagued with poverty and a future that asks poisonous questions makes this story of Malaysia truly Asian in spirit.

Meeting of flames of unconditional love I LONEY GODS by Shivani Singh I

THE WORLD of love stories is full of oxymorons: cloying yet irresistible, predictable yet thrilling, dumb yet inspiring. Shivani Singh’s Lonely Gods is a love story with a mystic twist. You may relate “Unconditional Love” to a romantic’s toilet dream, but in the novel it has a radically scientific avatar. UCL (Unconditional Love) is the

huge quantum of energy released when “Twin Flames” or two energies vibrating at the same frequency, come together. UCL, the most refined form of energy must be created to balance out the end-of-the-world scenario of 2012. Of course, the twin flames (who are people actually) find each other after thousands of painful lives.
Making love the ultimate weapon to protect the world from destruction, Singh walks the thin line between farce and humour. She dishes out the clichéd “throbbing of heart” and “look in the eye” but adds to it a touch of out-worldly magic. While the story moves towards a very predictable end it does so in the style of one powered by divine force.
The VNP is a secret society in Delhi to which Kamini has found an easy entry. A top-level project is on and Kamini finds herself a part of it. But unlike other members who specialise in forms of occult, Kamini is just another girl. Mira, Kamini’s landlady who brought her into the society, is a master of the Vedas and an astro-palmist. Carlos a “Caucasian swami” is an expert at ashtanga yoga and is said to have a range of supernatural powers from levitating to becoming invisible. Rita, Kamini’s boss, heads the quantum mythology wing of VNP. Ali, the brat, is the son of a filmstar and a powerful sorcerer. Hari, who is the keeper of the project’s flame and conducts its meetings, falls in love with Kamini. Rudra, a young boy who couldn’t talk is the last member of the group. While everyone else seems to know what the secret project is about, Kamini is the only one in the dark. As the members of the group join their energies to help her understand, she finds herself increasingly attracted to Hari, on one hand, and facing threat from “negative energies” on the other.
From Mira’s “Machu Picchu” house in Delhi where the members are holding their meeting, the story rolls back several years to Kolkata. In Chowringhee Apartment, young Raj meets Aparajita. Both are unable to sleep that night knowing all the while that the other is awake too. Aparajita is a married woman with a baby. Raj finds a way to meet Aparajita who is also a psychic. Strangely, both are able to connect in their minds even when they are physically apart. No words signalling love are exchanged in the physical realm but the two are perfect lovers in the world of thought. They find themselves together in their dreams, taking acute pleasure in each other’s bodies. Both are disconcerted by what is happening to them. Unwillingly, they feel the other within physical reach, the minute they shut their eyes.
As Aparajita gets up sweating hard from the feel of Raj’s hands on her thighs, she is unable to resolve the conflict in her dreams and real world. As their social positions make it impossible for them to meet, they drift apart and Aparajita moves out with her husband. The only physical evidence of love between them is the ring that Aparajita had chosen for Raj’s fiancée. Years later as Raj is on his deathbed and still pining for Aparajita, the ring assumes the power of his love for her. The “negative energies”, characterised by the villains in the story, fight to gain the ring. Needless to say, the villains too are masters of occult and magic.
As the VNP’s plan unfolds before Kamini, the real reason behind her being made a part of the project is disclosed. Inspite of her lack of magic, she is the most powerful weapon of them all. The climax takes place at a cosmically sacred site, where the twin flames will regain their power. A massive cyclone, brewed up by the villains, rages in the physical world while the final battle is fought in the non-physical realm of dreams. No magic and contraptions can win this war but forgiveness.
The suspense is kept up as the answers to who is the chief of the VNP and what is the relation of Kamini and Hari are reserved for the end. While the beginning of the book is listless, the end marks its culmination. The scene alternates between the VNP members preparing Aparajita for what is to unfold and the Raj-Aparajita love story.
Singh is aware of the love-sickness that her novel may induce and she adds a generous dose of humour to neutralise the effect. Kamini is the foil who makes fun of the magic percepts that are doled out to her making the reader relate to her. There is a little bit of everything here: Mills and Boons-style high-voltage romance on one hand and Chicken Soup for Soul-style eternal undying love on the other. Mysticism and occult form the mainstay of the novel making it appear different from the browbeaten mould. Yet, it’s not hard to figure that the basic format of the story is not too imaginative. “All love stories don’t come with pink accessories,” Hari tells Kamini during one of the VNP lessons, but this one definitely does qualifying it as a perfect romantic gift.

THE HEAD THAT WEARS THE CROWN... I Empire of the Moghul: Ruler of the World by Alex Rutherford I

There is something immensely fascinating and heroic about a warrior king. While history is replete with tales of such monarchs, we never seem to get enough of them. Empire of the Moghul: Ruler of the World is the third in the series of fictionalised accounts of the Mughal empire. Diana and Michael Preston, writing under the pen name of Alex Rutherford, pick up the reign of King Akbar in this work. Their focus, however, is not the exploits of the warrior king and the giant expanse of his empire but also the single strain of weakness in his rule: his sons.
Indian history commonly evokes the image of the hunt: King mounted on a tusker vanquishing a tiger. Akbar himself is believed to have a fascination for cheetahs and is known to have kept a large number of them in captivity. At the opening of the book too we find the 13-year-old Akbar on such a perilous expedition complete with drums, elephants and gunpowder. While he is still celebrating the kill the news is brought in that he had lost Delhi to King Hemu.
As the first “real” action faces him, the boy is coaxed to leave Delhi and move to safety. Minutes later, we are at the boy-king’s war council. But it is the commander-in-chief Bairam Khan, who calls the shots while Akbar sits and waits for his turn to speak. As the council begins to mull ways of retreat, a dramatic speech by young Akbar brings the chiefs back to onslaught mode.
At Panipat, Akbar with his 1,00,000 men faces a stronger army of Hemu. This is the battlefield where 30-years-ago his grandfather Babur had defeated the Lodhi Sultan. A mix of manoeuvres, grit and courage sees him bring down Hemu. It is a landmark win for Akbar but as Bairam Khan chides him for his brashness we know the king has yet to lose his commander-in-chief and his boyhood.
It’s a quick climb for Akbar into manhood as Mayala, a concubine, gives Akbar his first lessons in lovemaking.
Years later, when he has built a huge harem with several wives, Mayala continues to be one of his favourites. However, what stays missing is the bond he had seen his mother share with his father.
After defeating Hemu, Akbar begins to find Bairam Khan increasingly irksome. The king easily falls prey to a court plot to get rid of his right hand man. As the royal conspirers are brought to justice Akbar regrets his own gullibility. The echoes of this episode are felt much later as over the years Akbar trusts few, not even allowing his own sons the privilege to know his mind.
After recovering from the loss of Bairam Khan, Akbar turns his attention to Chittorgarh. Rajput warriors of Chittor prove worthy opponents. Akbar has his victory but only after losing an equal number of his own troops and witnessing the women throw themselves into live pyres. He decides it would be better to have the Rajputs fight for him than against him.
A Rajput princess, Hirabai, becomes his first wife. The alliance is a great success for the king but to the man it brings little comfort.
In Akbar, Hirabai sees a ruthless conqueror, someone who had to be driven away. In the author’s version Hirabai could never get reconciled to the marriage, beginning from the first night when she tries to stab her husband. Despite his vast harem, Akbar could not ignore Hirabai as he sees in her eyes the expression of a wild leopard. He promises, however, to leave her alone once she gave him an heir. After the birth of Salim, he keeps this promise.
Salim’s birth comes after much delay. A hostile Hirabai is suspected of using ways to keep off childbirth. However, after the blessings and predictions of Sheikh Salim Chishty, a son is born and consequently named after the saint.
Hereon, Akbar gradually fades as the story veers towards Salim. While he sees in his father a tolerant, generous king, his mother’s views are different. The father meanwhile, suspects that his wife is turning his son against him.
Unable to bank on his family, Akbar finds a faithful in Abul Fazal, who grows from being a mere chronicler to the king’s right hand man. In the course of time he meets the same fate as Bairam Khan at the hands of a jealous Salim.
No problem is insurmountable for Akbar, be it the Ulemas, the Christian priests or the queen mother’s displeasure. But it is a strange stalemate when he finds his son unable to control his desire for his prized dancing girl Anarkali. On discovery, the image-conscious king sentences the girl to death while the prince is banished to Kabul. Unlike the popular Salim-Anarkali lore there is little love in the affair. The authors give us a peep into the sexual jealously between the father and son that culminates into an open rebellion.
While Salim with all his ambitions and faults seems lifelike, Akbar begins to appear a mere fixture. Salim’s insecurity on sensing the odds of his own son superseding him is acute whereas, Akbar’s misgivings for Salim look insipid. The story deals numerous aspects of Akbar’ reign, reminding you of the history book subheads: Akbar as a warrior, builder, administrator, religious head etc. However, none of these are the core of the novel which essentially deals with Akbar as a family man. An excess of angles douses out the focus.
Hirabai, for example, is an intriguing character, but over the 36 years of Akbar’s reign that the story traces, her case stays the same. The authors make an attempt to pare down the King, his queens and princes and show us their human side but too much history is piled on and the men, women and boys in the royal corridors stay hidden.

NAUGHTY AT SIXTY I Pure Sequence by Paro Anand I

Munching biscuit-namkeen, clicking cutlery and trading dirty jokes at a card game are not activities one associates with 60-year-old Indian women, but that is what Kunti, Satya, Sheila and Tosh do and that is what makes them worthy of being the leading ladies of this novel. The setting for Pure Sequence, Paro Anand’s first venture into adult fiction, is unique yet familiar. Anand styles her characters after the aunties next-door: the retired, unmarried schoolteacher (Satya), the wife shackled to a bed-ridden husband (Sheila), the lonely grandmother longing for her foreign-settled brood (Tosh), the temperamental mother suffocating in a house full of grandchildren (Kunti). But she gives them all that one special thing — joy of living.
We are familiar with one half of the stories of such women who fill our mundane afternoons with drama and gossip: A past full of beautiful memories, a present plagued with pain and a future holding little promise. But Anand’s aunties are not brooding, oldies resigned to fate and gods. Their chatter spiced with popular Punjabi slang and gaalis, these women struggle to beat old age, and sometimes they win.
Anand cuts into a card game and traces the shadows of pain on their lives. Like most old women, they too regret not having led a life of their choice, so, it’s catharsis time when they meet. The result is obscene jokes, ingenious swear words and nasty rounds of bitching. From struggling to get a hang of email, to screaming out “bitch”, they try hard to stay relevant in the changing times. Often realising that they can’t.
Anand switches montages quickly. We find ourselves in the middle of a brawl as Kunti screams “F**k! F**k! F**k!” in her son’s face. She then faints while attempting to call him up to say sorry. Tosh is called in to stay the night. When alone with Tosh, Kunti confesses, “You can’t imagine the gandi, gandi gallis I gave my son”. Tosh admits her own burden, “I did wish, they, my own family, would just go away”. Relieved of their guilt, the two women have a whale of a time eating chips, watching Jungle Book and singing aloud. Sheila and Satya watch with envy the change in the other two and wish for a similar getaway.
The next jolt comes when Sheila’s husband passes away. Satya steps in to help, also hoping that she will find some relief from her own loneliness. The hard life of a single woman has left Satya scarred and she finds herself unprepared for the delicate situation that unfolds at the house of her bereaved, widowed friend. With her successful attempt to make Sheila smile, the ice in Satya’s heart begins to melt. As they lie down for the night, Sheila talks of her dead husband while Satya reveals her secret: Why she never married.
As days pass, Satya finds years of bitterness lifted from her voice while Sheila is freed from the death of husband. Satya breaks the mourning period declaring, “Bhad mein jaye this dakhiya noosi thinking”, and revives the card party.
Soon, Sheila asks Satya to come and live with her and the deal is sealed with a hug. The four eventually plan a weekend at Sheila’s house. They christen themselves the “Bitchy Biddies Bunch” — BBBs, and swear to have no rules. The weekend also being Satya’s 70th birthday, she is promised a surprise. The weekend is a riot. Drinks are “seduced”, porn DVDs stolen and Playboy copies distributed.
But the book is no fairytale, and the joy seems to be on a short fuse as Sheila’s house is put up for sale, Satya survey’s old age homes and the others return to the lives they were living. As the story runs its full course, Satya gets her birthday surprise and crowns it with her first real kiss. The old women are brought together again to complete the Pure Sequence, the perfect life.
Kunti, Satya, Sheila and Tosh may seem empowered, even liberated, but a feminist reading of these characters is less appealing. These are upper middle-class women, their sense of freedom fuelled by the money left by their husbands. Even the “poorest” of them, Satya, has a flat of her own. Also, they use a lot Punjabi words, even complete sentences, which puts the book out of bounds for readers not from  Delhi.
Yet, Pure Sequence is an interesting read for the position it takes on old age. Old characters usually end up pitiable or dead. Hemmingway’s Old Man, for example. You would never want to be in Santiago’s shoes. But here, you want to be a part of Paro Anand’s old biddies. They are profane and naughty, and determined and spirited, and you want to grow old like them.

THE MIGHT OF MISCHIEF I Small Acts of Resistance By Steve Crawshaw and John Jackson

When King Gyanendra dismissed Nepal’s Parliament in 2005 and declared a state of emergency, the country quickly turned into one of the most strictly censored nations in the world. As elected politicians were put behind bars and telephone lines severed, journalists fought to spread the news. Broadcasters at Radio Sagarmatha hit on a novel idea and decided to call news haalchal instead of samachaar. As the authorities caught on to the ploy, the broadcasters re-disguised news as entertainment and called in a well-known comedian to sing news in his comic style. Even as popular radio stations were shut down, innovative and defiant ways of taking information to the masses continued.
Steve Crawshaw and John Jackson’s Small Acts of Resistance is a compilation of such inspiring incidents. While the stories are brilliant for the sheer courage and innovation, their outcome may have to be taken with a pinch of salt. Crawshaw, who was in Delhi recently, admits however, that the brief incidents in his book “may not be the end of the story”. “But acts such as these or say Burmese protests of 2007 or more recently China’s Jasmine protests are significant steps that set in motion wheels of change,” he said in an interview, adding, “Our aim was to come up with a compendium of inspiring acts where people have come out of their fears to speak against injustice, and not venture into a political statement.”
Crawshaw is international advocacy director of Amnesty International. He was also a journalist for several years. Jackson is currently vice-president of social responsibility for MTV Networks International.
The incidents narrated in the book are grouped into 15 broad chapters. Each episode is in not more than a brisk 250 words. Asked about emphasis of the title on “small acts of resistance”, Crawshaw explained: “We were looking at putting together protests that were fundamentally non-violent, and yet could make a difference. Revolution, in its nature, is not always non-violent. In change that comes through a violent revolution it becomes difficult to eliminate violence and violence leads to more violence and more violence leads to yet more violence. Hence we put together these seemingly small examples of exemplary courage of ordinary people.” The episodes range from popular ones like Zhao Ziyang whose posthumously published book Prisoner of the State: The Secret Journal of Premier Zhao Ziyang made waves in 2010 or the social ostracism of Captain Charles Cunningham Boycott in 1880 from which the word boycott came into being, to lesser known ones like Afghan woman Malalai Joya who stood before a loya jirga packed with men and asked them to throw out the warlords present at the meeting.
Crawshaw said he found Burma’s monks led-”saffron-protests” as the most inspiring. Two instances from those protests find mention in the book. Among those he witnessed he recalls 1989 protests in Leipzig, then East Germany. People organised peaceful protest marches every Monday, demanding change. As the protests began to swell, the authorities sent out a warning that the protesters would be dealt with firmly. Around the time for protests “sixteen trucks with armed workers’ militia stood waiting in one side of the street alone.” Heavy security blanket was thrown around yet 70,000 protesters came out defying the threat of gunfire. “Watching those people walk into the face of death… I don’t know if I would have the courage to do that. I don’t think I would have it in me,” said Crawshaw.
Quite relevant to the uprising in the Arab world, a whole chapter in the book is dedicated to “Digital Dissent”. Crawshaw said it is not easy to tell if the modern technology has made it easier to express dissent or if it has made us a slave of convenience. “It is what we call slacktivism or activism at the click of the mouse,” he said. A portmanteau word,slacktivism is formed out of “slacker” and “activism”. It is used to describe “feel-good” measures, in support of an issue or social cause, that have little or no practical effect other than to make the person doing it feel satisfaction. Yet, given the fact that in the context of Arab uprisings digital world has played a major role, he said “Protests in Tunisia or Egypt or Iran have a lot in common with armed protests but the way of being able to get the message out to the outside world and to each other has changed. It does amount to a significant change but it does not make a world of a difference. Solidarity protests in Poland would have happened anyway and the Latin American banging of pats and pans would have happened nevertheless.”
What makes Egypt protests special were their largely non-violent appeal, said Crawshaw. “The fact that protests in Egypt have managed to remain fundamentally non-violent brings hope for revolution there. Yet there is more change that is needed there and is to come. Even as we hope for the best we know that the story of Egypt is not yet over. Same could be said of East Europe in 1989 which had seen great churning but the more momentous events were yet to unfold. A number of Egyptians I have spoken to of late say that they feel more confident in last few weeks simply because of the sense of power and pride.”
Asked about how to make out a genuine protest from an attempt at propaganda, Crawshaw suggested a scale of moral compass and courage. “I met quite a few officers who in the Bush-era stood up against the excesses of the administration. Such people keep the moral compass of the society right.”
India also finds frequent mention in the book. NDTV’s SMS campaign in Jessica Lal case, pink-chaddi campaign against SRS chief Pramod Muthalik among the more recent ones. On his first visit to India, Crawshaw said Amnesty report on Kashmir (released on Monday) was among his latest projects.
One of the most interesting ideas in the book is about Sudanese women in 2002 practising “sexual abandoning” on the lines of Aristophanes’ Lysistrata. “Women decided that by withholding sex from their men they could force them to commit peace-and it worked.” The result may sound exaggerated but as the writers put it “some people are deluded enough to believe that they can change things, and right wrongs. They think that change is worth taking risks for-even when there is no certainty of the outcome.”

CARAMBA! THE COUNT IS DEAD I Murder In San Felice by Chandralekha Mehta I

The people of San Felice, still dizzy from Count Jeorge de la Bolla’s party, wake up to the news that their host had been murdered. The grapevine of servants carries the tale of the death to the diplomat bosses. While the Indian ambassador is informed by his butler, the maid cries out the story at the Counsellor’s house. As we catch people receiving the dreadful news, their relationship to the flamboyant count is revealed as is the life and pace of the Latin American city.
The author, Chandralekha Mehta of Nehru-lineage, is a diplomat’s wife. Murder In San Felice turns the spotlight on life of diplomats. Mehta not only has an eye for detail but also has the talent to weave it into the story.
We begin to know more about the dead man as the town women mutter between their sobs that they were "so close" to him. On one hand Counsellor Bhagwan, is relieved to know that the man with whom he suspected his wife was having an affair was dead, on the other the diplomat’s daughter is worried that she had left her riding shoes in the count’s room.
Pepe, a visitor at an exclusive boutique, claims he had killed the count by turning down the count’s "proposal". As the list of suspects grows Anil, a prospective groom for the diplomat’s daughter Mona, arrives in the San Felice.
The newly-arrived guest is drawn into the mystery as he is told that the police had found Mona’s boots under the dead count’s bed. An apparently naive 19-yearold Mona is hence being seen as the final "kill" of dead the Count. To add to it Mona confides in Anil that she could not find her passport and feared she may have dropped it next to her boots on the eve of the murder.
Chandralekha Mehta adds a string of colourful characters to the story. The police commissioner, for example, is a man obsessed with the exotic, much like the dead count. The Indian community in San Felice must take his fascination with a pinch of salt: "You have a marvelous country, so spiritual! I would give anything to visit it, but I fear terrible poverty would upset me too much  People dying of hunger, lying in the streets with no shelter. And all those sacred cows. No, unfortunately I can never go to India." Besides, the commissioner has a fetish for sarees. He asks Anil to send him a saree with peacock embroidery from India, which he intended to use as a table spread.
The ambassador’s cook is another such character. A great chef with slovenly ways and dim wits, Gulati Singh, breaks down when the ambassadress meets sudden death at the National Day reception.
This death coming soon on the heels of the first one, still unsolved, leaves everyone unsettled. The mystery deepens when Anil goes to the Bhagwan’s house to borrow a book and finds a note threatening to reveal the secrets about Shiela, the Counsellor’s wife.
Meanwhile, Mona is deeply affected by the death of her mother. Hardly absolved from role in the count’s death, she finds herself a suspect in her mother’s death as well. The ambassador, on the other hand, "flowers" after the death of his wife. Curtailed from pursuing his interests by his wife, he now finds himself a free man. His fancy for artefacts, which had till now been restrained only to an ugly collection of daggers, now expands to expensive china.
A parallel plot of diamond smugglers begins to unfold and a Byomkesh Bakshistyle Anil finds his way to the bottom of the mystery of two murders, missing passports and blackmailers.
The best thing about Chandralekha is the consistency of her disciplined style. At less than 200 pages, this is a slim, easy-to-read and engaging novel. Characters are drafted with care and life-like feel.
The biggest surprises of the book is the daft undercurrent of playfulness.
A sense of humour runs through the story without diluting the plot. Suspense can be a tricky job for a debutant novelist but Chandralekha seems to have done it with considerable ease.
Murder, infidelity, smuggling, and quirk all are brought within the embassy house. If you are still wondering who killed Count Jeorge de la Bolla, the only man who could have told you does not survive the treacherous ride of Chandralekha Mehta’s plot.