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.

PERFECTIONISTS

Half-a-woman
she was
no beauty
no coy
no mystery,

and half-a-man
was he
no grit
no rich
no logic.

No people these,
wandering
in their world
of no words
no language

and yet, look,
in the arms
of a shameless
night,
they weave

Our world of
full women
robust men
and clever
things to say.

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.

In the league of extraordinary writers

This is the company that published Jane Austen, Chares Darwin, Lord Byron and Flaubert, says Anurima Roy, publicity manager at Hachette India.
Hachette, one of the largest publishing groups in UK, burst upon the Indian scene in 2008. Anurima says the challenge then was to make up for being a late entrant in the market. With publishers like Penguin, HarperCollins and Random House that had been established players, it was important to build Hachette as a brand at the earliest possible. However, given the kind of names Hachette has under its banner, it wasn’t too difficult, she says. “We have a huge stable of names so our pedigree is high… but here we were new and went with a choice of new writing to begin with,” she says.
With its nine different companies straddling trade and education across literary and commercial genres, Hachette operates in every segment.
“This is what we bring to India too,” Anurima explains, “We began with a slight emphasis on commercial fiction but we are also going after literary and narrative non-fiction in a big way.”
On the subject of established writers vs new, Anurima, who has seen both editorial and marketing sides of the industry, says she personally, enjoys the challenge of working with new writers. “Working with established writers is also a pleasure since there is no pressure of having to establish names. Having said so, there is always the struggle to go steps higher with each book by an established writer and that’s exciting too,” she adds.
Stickler for quality, Anurima says Hachette books are good enough to be up on any international shelf. “The production flow is essentially planning the look and feel of a book that the editors, production department and our MD do at Hachette. We take the images we have and roll with them for our marketing campaigns.”
So did the “giant venture” tag save Hachette India from the trouble of convincing distributors? Anurima admits that with the top management having long years in publishing, and with an available depth and range of lists, it was easier. “But equally our local publishing began from a scratch and we had the challenge of building new names,” she says.
Anurima, who joined Hachette in 2008 as a part of its founding team, describes her journey so far as exciting. Publishing is a passion and one should get into it only if one loves books and the challenges that come with it, she says.
As a person who enjoys working with authors, Anurima reminiscences her first tour with debutant author Alice Albinia, as one of her most memorable moments.
With no ambitions of being a writer herself, Anurima believes it’s best if authors are guided by their instinct, “the only advice one can give is to write as you feel like; and for those in search of non-fiction or commercial genres look at the trends, and see what you can write that will interest readers.”
Publishing is a creative business but it is essentially also numbers’ business, she explains.
Each publishing house has a fixed brief in terms of how much it can publish, and what slots it needs, she adds. “So rejections may have nothing to do with the quality of a manuscript but merely a function of a submission not fitting a particular programme,” says Anurima.
About the publishing scenario, Anurima says that though the number of readers has increased over the years but a big percentage is reading cheap commercial rather than quality fiction: “People like to read stuff that is racy and easy rather than heavy literature that was the dominant trend earlier.” India is still in nascent stages of publishing, she says. The industry is beginning to grow, and grow fast, though currently threatened by a proposed amendment to the Copyright Act, says Anurima. She feels the industry is also bogged down by primitive marketing methods and the tedious cycle from supply chain to payment realisation. Though Pakistani writing is the new flavour and is catching up fast, she believes, India remains a non-fiction readers’ market and each publisher needs to have a healthy non-fiction list that could be a steady-backlist.
Anurima says she dreamt of being in publishing since school days and never wanted any other career. For those who wish to make a career in the industry, she says, passion for books is the key, money being secondary. It is one industry where you see most creative minds working at most innovative products.

Writing @T20

Aditya Sudarshan is 26 years and two novels old. He entered the league of young Indian writers in 2007 when his first book A Nice Quiet Holiday was published. His second work of fiction Show Me A Hero is the latest to be released. The novel is set in contemporary Delhi where a group of twentyfour-year-olds are making a film about a cricket star Ali Khan. While on one hand, the “just-out-of-college” youngsters struggle to come to terms with adulthood, on the other, they must deal with the player who’s career has been tainted with match-fixing allegations.
Having studied law at Bengaluru, crime has been Aditya’s forte in his two books. His first work, a detective thriller set in a quiet peaceful town, Bhairavgarh, at the foothills of the Himalayas, was written when he was still in law school. Aditya left his practice mid-way much to the shock of his family to take up writing full-time. “For a writer, writing is more like a compulsion,” he says, “you just need to let it happen. Your mind keeps going in that direction.”
He does not believe his work falls in the group of business school breed of young writers who swear by Chetan Bhagat. He feels his books will connect more with a serious audience. Yet the short and easy format of his work makes a perfect light read. It bears a strong resemblance to the work of popular writers like Abhijit Bhaduri with a metro setting, educated youth protagonists, quick involving story and a slice-of-life narrative.
Aditya admits his novels are not research heavy. “You will not emerge anny more knowledgeable out of my novels. They deal with the analytical and psychological aspects of life.” Aditya, much like the writers of pulp fiction, is not apologetic of the life he portrays. He identifies with the works of Arun Joshi who won Sahitya Akademi Award in 1982 for his novel The Last Labyrinth. “Joshi deals with the community head-on and without a sense of guilt or compunction of being dismissed as pulp or chick-lit.”
Besides the engaging mystery plot, Show me a Hero draws on the theme of hero-worship in India. A Tendulkar fan himself, Aditya says, “It is very easy to be cynical about someone but its a different experience to simply admire someone.” The title of the novel is drawn from the Gatsby-famed Ftizgerald’s note: “Show me a hero and I will write you a tragedy”.
Aditya, does not see himself doing a story removed from the Indian context or set-up, “Even if I make it sound well-researched it would seem fake,” he says.
Inspite of his natural affinity for Indian setting he not game for the India shining argument. He describes the Indian condition of the as a “confused” one. “It is difficult to get a sense of who you are, in a country so diverse and vast,” he says. It is a similar difficulty that faces the protagonists in novels. “India still has a long way to go, this is not time to celebrate,” he says
As an author too, he does not carry the sense of having arrived. On lookout for more, Aditya is in Mumbai now, searching for opportunities and stories for a third novel that he aims to base on Bollywood.