On the map

Apropos of nothing here is an excerpt from P.G W's " A D in Distress"

"Consider his position you faint hearted and self pitying young men who think you have a tough row to hoe just because, when you pay your evening visit with the pound box of candy under your arm you see the handsome sophomore from Yale sitting beside her on the porch, playing the ukulele. If ever the world has turned black to you in such a situation and the moon gone behind a cloud, think of George Bevan and what he was up against. You are at least on the spot. You can at least put up a fight. If there are ukuleles in the world, there are also guitars and tomorrow it may be you and not he who sits on the moonlit porch, it may be he and not you who arrives late. Tomorrow he may not show up until you have finished the Bedouin's Love Song and are annoying the local birds, roosting in the trees, with Poor Butterfly.

What I mean to say is, you are on the map, you have a sporting chance. Whereas George...well just go over to England and try wooing an earl's daughter whom you have only met once and that without introduction; whose brother's hat you have smashed beyond repair; whose family wishes her to marry some other man: who wants to marry some other man herself - and not the same other man, but another other man; who is closely immured in a medieval castle...Well all I say is - try it. And then go back to your porch with a chastened spirit and admit that you might be a whole lot worse off."

Bassington - Bassingtons

"Unlike the male codfish which, suddenly finding itself the parent of three million five hundred thousand little codfish, cheerfully resolves to love them all, the British aristocracy is apt to look with a somewhat jaundiced eye on its younger sons"

Stephen Fry says, "If you are immune to writing of this kind, then you are fit, to use one of Wodehouse's favourite Shakespearean quotations, only for treasons, stratagems and spoils. You don't analyse such sunlit perfection, you just bask in its warmth and splendour. Like Jeeves Wodehouse stands alone and analysis, ultimately, is useless."

3 1/2 hours waiting in probably one of the loudest, most crude, aggressive and obnoxious(:-) of environments...Delhi airport. The airport book store is spotted. "What Ho! The best of Wodehouse" is purchased. The airport, denizens and irritants dissolve as if they never existed. Laughter ensues causing much bemusement to those around me.

Filling the gap...and how

There weren't too many subjects I used to ace in school. Of course, I attribute that, not unfairly to a lack of mentoring and an inability of the system to understand that if I couldn't learn the way they taught, they had to teach the way I learnt. At any rate, I had a natural aptitude for English and always did quite well there, but also managed high grades in the social sciences which included history. Of course I realise now that that was primarily because my retentive abilities were / are high. But nonetheless, I was always pleased with my high grades in history.

If I was to look back now, my "history" classes left me with a deluge of historical dates of events which even now I am not entirely sure bore any historical significance, a long list of Mughal emperors, British viceroys and lords and the many scores of battles they fought against each other. I learnt of Indian independence, the central figures in that quest, the important dates such as 15th August being Independence Day and 26th January Republic Day and other more obscure dates and related events.

Nowhere however did I learn about how India had evolved into what it was in 1995. It seemed like the subsequent 50 years didn't count as history. The battle of Plassey (while extremely significant in the larger context) or the policies of Cornwallis were more important for impressionable 15 year olds to learn rather than to know the inexplicable manner in which India was partitioned, the bloodshed that followed as a consequence of the blunders the British committed, about the nonsensical creation that was East Pakistan, about the in fighting in the Congress, the birth of the Muslim League and of Jinnah's lust for power.

I tell anyone who listens that in contrast to education in some of the private schools today, I feel moderately let down with what I experienced, and in contrast with undergraduate education in the West, I feel positively cheated. However, we can but look to put right what Fate and Circumstance conspired to put us through. I have read through about 40 pages of Ramachandra Guha's book "India after Gandhi - the history of the world's largest democracy" and already I have learnt more about post 1947 India and its creation than I did in 5 years of school studying "history". This book should be prescribed reading not only for all school students but indeed, I would encourage every Indian and foreigner interested in India to read this book. It also happens to be on the Economist's list of the best reads of 2007.

Mr. Guha's style is measured yet riveting and students and lovers of history and India surely must doff their hats to the gent. For one as yet unschooled in many seminal works of history, every page so far has been a pleasure that I seek to absorb to the fullest. This is definitely a book that will occupy pride of place in my humble collection.

Not so reluctant after all

Reading Mohsin Hamid's "The Reluctant Fundamentalist" stimulated many thoughts and reactions. While the first half of the book is a delight to flip through, the author suffers a breakdown of sorts later. I am writing this while I still haven't finished the entire book. However, the author's depiction of a talented and well payed financial analyst's sudden conversion from just another talented and well payed financial analyst into a person who suddenly is blinded and hurt by the oppression America is enforcing on the world and in particular, Pakistan is so flawed that one is left wondering if the author ever studied geopolitical causes and effects with an objective eye.

The depiction of India and Pakistan being on the brink of war right after the attack on the Indian parliament is correct but the author's whining about America not supporting Pakistan's "government" during this crisis leaves me puzzled. Excuse me, but what government are we referring to? A general who takes over a country by force doesn't, according to my political science classes at least, constitute a government. Dictatorship is more the word the author was looking for. There are a few other instances where his dislike and hatred of America are illogically conveyed and a shade disturbing. If the author was trying to rationalize through this book why normal people are turning terrorists or adopting a fundamentalist stand point in light of America's bullying around the world, he has failed miserably.

On the other hand, Hamid's passages especially about Lahore leave me with a pleasant sensation...like the way one feels when an attractive girl walks past you in a busy area and you get a quick whiff of her perfume...the scent lingers and you walk on with a tiny & wistful smile. Hamid's Lahore is a place of warmth, bazaars, good people and great food. It makes me hope that there will be a time when I can buy a ticket and spend a few days in the city's markets, bazaars and streets.

I would recommend reading the book as, apart from a few shortcomings, his writing style is fluid and he captures & depicts situations with uncanny ease.

Ishiguro

I rub my hands with childlike glee as I now begin reading this. A tingling, almost nervous excitement envelops me each time I pick up a book recommended by someone who I am certain has great taste. Ah joy.

It is I, Satan

I find it deliciously ironic that Salman Rushdie has become Sir Salman Rushdie around the same time that I am reading one of the best books I've ever picked up, by another Muslim author titled "My Name is Red" penned by Orhan Pamuk.

It gets better because I just finished reading a chapter in the book which is titled "It is I, Satan". Without giving too much of the book away, the way Pamuk has written the entire book is in a series of chapters where the narrator of the chapter is one of the many characters in the story. So the way he (magically) weaves the entire tale is through this incredibly powerful style of writing.

"It is I, Satan" is a chapter where Satan is speaking in the first person to the readers about how he (Satan) is unnecessarily vilified, cursed and hated by mankind. Satan goes on to share with us his perspective on why man does the stupid things man does and how Satan is, for the most part just a stirrer of the pot, a stoker of the flame or even a mere (albeit gleeful) bystander as Man goes about his own demise.

The complete significance of this chapter, I have not yet understood. Is Pamuk secretly mocking (God forbid) Islam's beliefs of right and wrong, of what is Evil and what is not? Is this chapter his way of heaping scorn on radical Islam or even extreme religious beliefs that judge us on what is pure and white and what is the dark side?

It seems to me that Pamuk's writing is replete with messages for those who care to spot them...maybe one of the things he's telling us is man has enough latent malice and evil within himself and it really doesn't matter if Satan tempts you.....or if people like Sir Rushdie write the things they write. And of course right on cue the "satanic" element is there for all to see with Sir Salman Rushdie's knighthood being condemned by Pakistan (!)

Its a reflection of our society (in India, Pakistan and the other Islamic and supposedly secular nations) that we treat one of the brightest intellects of our time in a manner befitting a social leper. India has of course stayed true to form in displaying her hypocrisy by long banning one of his best pieces of writing, stating it not fit for a "secular" society and it not being kind to the "sentiments" of certain people. At least we still have countries and societies such as the United Kingdom that have the fortitude and foresight to do what should be done, to have the conviction to challenge misbegotten beliefs born out of an unholy alliance of religion and degeneration.

Where will it end?

Long & Winding

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with weary feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths & errands meet.
And wither then? I cannot say.

FotR, LotR