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Showing posts from 2013

Norwegian Wood

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Not the song, but the book by Haruki Murakami It does however, get its title from the song that the protagonists in the book loved. I can't say whether I like it or I don't. I can see why it makes a beautiful movie. It can be pictured in some setting of natural beauty in the snow and in the mountains, intertwined with the confusion of Tokyo and a sweet love story under the shadow of a tragic love story. Sometimes I would think of the book as utterly hopeless with 4 characters having committed suicide. It's depressing and I can't understand what could be haunting all these people who kill themselves for no reason as it seems. I think it should never be read by anyone under 25, or may be 35 or may be anyone. It's like the opposite of Veronica decides to die , which I think should be prescribed reading for teenagers. And then I again, I love the way the book flows in and out. It isn't the story, it isn't the writing. But it leaves you with a feeling th

7 days in Barcelona

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This post is overdue, written on the very day I came back. I was waiting for pics but I shall add them a few weeks later. Sitting here in London, right after St Jude and colder, darker nights after the clocks switch back, it's hard to believe I was on a beautifully sunny beach hours ago. Flights and timezones, latitudes and seasons. The world is small place today. Day 1 It is probably one of the closest airports to any city. It takes barely 18 mins by train (Renfe) from airport to Barcelona Sants. The metro has long transfers, air-conditioned coaches with doors that don't automatically open. The metro shuts at midnight every week night, later on Friday nights and never on Saturday nights. I got a T10 card that allows for 10 travels but if you are staying for longer a Hola BCN might be more useful. To figure all this out reading between Spanish and Catalan, I arrived much later than expected missing a Sandemans walking tour. So no snippets or history this time (any you see

Pirate Latitutdes

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It started out as an annoying and boring book. I am not interested in pirates unless it's Johnny Depp dressed as one. And so it starts. Capt Charles Hunter based out of Port Royal in Jaimaca sets out on a pirate voyage calling it a privateering venture for cutting wood, to rip off a Spanish treasure ship from a Spanish strong hold, Matanceros.  The operation goes from one precipice to another. It's interesting and you get sucked in. It may get a little too much drama but its fun, all the way to the end. And at the end the epilogue is the best. The epilogue almost cons you. And it's perfect for this world of smartphones and wikipedia. Ironic isn't it, when the entire plot is based in 1660s and is written for the 21st century audience ?

The Illusionists

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One of the last sunny weekend afternoons in London, we watched The Illusionists at Apollo. We had watched Now You See Me and we wanted to watch the real deal. It wasn't as grande obviously. But it was wonderfully done.  The Mentalist opened the show with the oldest trick of all, pick a card from a pack and guessed a lot of things which he actually manipulated the audience into thinking The Trickster was funny with audience volunteers and put up an entertaining show The Escapologist escaped in time and charming with his Italian accent The Inventor made a lovely rose for a little girl and he even made her do some magic The Enchantress and the Gentleman melted solid rings through each other taken from the audience and cut her into two The Anti-Conjuror, Dan Sperry, is the best of all. He didn't say a word, fashioned himself as Marilyn Mason and brought out pigeons out of everywhere and anywhere. But he also did some really weird things like getting a thread into his

After Dark

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A short tight novel that tells you the happenings over one night. The story is written like a script and with such detail that your brain automatically starts playing a video inside your head. The camera moves back and forth in the book and in your head. The story moves in and out of reality and surrealism. In some places I had no idea where the story was going but it is still delightful to read.However, the writing style was struggling in some places and the words come out forced. It could be more to do with the translation though.

Tales from Firozsha Baag

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Firozsha Baag is an apartment complex in Mumbai largely occupied by the Parsi community. The stories are about some of the families living in it. Not that they are exceptionally different. They are ordinary and that's what makes it beautiful. Ordinary stories woven into each other that by the end of it, you feel they are your neighbours. I can't pick out one or another because they are all together a single entity.

An Equal Music

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It's an ordinary story of love; a rather sad brooding unsuccessful love story. But there is a beauty in it that cannot be captured here. Yet I try. It's the story of Michael and his love for Julia. A violinist and his love for a pianist who met as students of music in Vienna. But Michael walks out on his music teacher in Vienna, walking out of Vienna and out on Julia. A decade passes on in his sad brooding way but he has joined a string quartet and he is somewhat on the happy side of life. He has gotten over the happiness in his life with Julia and settled for this lesser happy life. At least he has his music, even though the violin is not his own but borrowed from a family friend. Unusual fate brings him face to face with Julia again, and unlocks the door to that little room in his heart where he had locked up his memories of a higher happiness in Vienna, in music, and in love. And they start their duet yet again. But Julia is married and is a mother of a delightful lit

Last summer long weekend

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The weekend began with a dinner with an old friend that I don't know when I will meet again. Good to wake up early on a Saturday morning to make a quick trip to work to run some errands and grab breakfast, only to come back home and have lunch. It was good that I ate well since the rest of the day was standing dancing festival in a big big muddle puddle of a park after a downpour.  SW4 was amazing in spite of all that. We heard Gareth Emery on the main stage for a short while before moving to a tent to listen to Orjan Nilsen, not so impressive. But he was quickly replaced by Aly & Fila.  We moved to the main stage to listen to Sanden Van Door and Eddie Halliwell. We went back to the tent for Paul Van Dyk. And finally got back to the main stage to listen to Laidback Luke closing and finally the Armin Van Burren.  Image courtesy: CB That was 7 hours of a trance music. Enough for a long long while I think. By the time Armin came on stage I was so tired I ju

Circus !

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In a span for 4 weeks I watched two circuses (not the one with animals, only people doing weird but entertaining stuff). I watched a massive circus production in a large auditorium last month. They had web pages full of descriptions of each character and the idea and conception of the circus. It was good, really good. And I haven't seen circus since I don't remember when, so I was impressed. But all the shows were of very few people, some even just one or two people shows. It was far away and it was hard to see up close. I enjoyed it though. I watched a circus on Saturday, in a small tent with a small gathering of people. It was absolutely breathtaking. It was beautifully presented and had everything I would expect in circus except the trapeze but to make up for the trapeze they had three people on three poles do incredible things. The fire show was the best. It's always been my favourite and it was wonderfully done. The music was created on stage, as is with all

Bookshelf

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I felt it's time I needed a new header. But I haven't been doing much lately except, working, watching movies and reading books. And since I can't talk about work and movies are not much to add to, books is all I have. So here is a header with my bookshelf. It doesn't have too many books because I usually borrow from the library here (there are 4 books on the shelf that I borrowed from the library and 1 that I borrowed from a friend). But to compensate for 10,000 books I added my kindle too...

Illusions and Art: Leandro Erlich

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Leandro Erlich has some really interesting ideas about art. He plays with light and mirrors and creates illusions for art. It's beautiful and fascinating; one needs to be really smart to do this. You can check out some his work on his webpage . I especially love his "Double Tea". Recently I found on the web that he has an installation in Dalston, called the Dalston House. After reading up on the web I really wanted to see it. It's basically the front wall of a house to the scale and complete with a door and a few windows, placed on the ground. Attached to it is an equally scaled clear mirror at 45 degrees. So whatever is on the floor is visible on the mirror like as if it is standing up on the ground at 90 degrees, ie the front wall of the house. A few of us went to Dalston on a sweltering hot sunny day. There was a long queue for the installation. A long queue not to see it but to take pictures on it. So people lie on it and take pictures of the reflection

Facebook forwards and Lord Macaulay

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Recently I noticed this picture doing the rounds on Facebook. I must say I was surprised. I assumed it was hoax. I tried to look up the Parliament archives. But before that I saw a lot of articles about this issue. It's an old forward, very very old. Obviously given it is claimed to be some 1835 archive. The forward is clearly fake. For the following reasons given by many people (who claim this is purely faked by Hindu Nationalists): 1. Lord Macaulay was in India on this date and stayed in India a few years staring 1834, that includes 2nd Feb 1835 so he could not have addressed the British Parliament. 2. Lord Macaulay would not have been addressed as Lord then because he was not a lord yet. 3. And most importantly, that this was not his exact quotation. and many more reasons I do not want to give benefit to, but basically surrounding other fringe points as above. Also many claim that it could have possibly been mis-linked to a report he produced called the "mi

Once upon a picnic

Once a year my school would take us on a picnic. Every day one section of one class would go. And since we have 2+10+2 classes and the lower classes have up to 10 sections it took us a good few months to get it all done. And the picnics were around the rainy season. Not the monsoon really. But Vizag has a late monsoon Jul/Aug and it has a cyclone storm every Oct/Nov. So you could have rain-free picnic but you could not bet on it. And it was short but it was fun. It had to be a school day so we left at 8.30 and came back by 1. Picnic was fun at school. We would bring our toys out to the school. We would ride our school bus for about an hour and sing songs. At the picnic spot we would play games, play with the toys we brought, share the different food we brought, run around for no reason at all, sit around and play board games too and I loved the swing. Most of the times we went to Mudasarlova. It's a reservoir with a park. Occasionally we went to Vuda Park. It is more or les

The Rozabal Line

I did not want to write about this book because I had nothing good to say. This was by far the worst book I had ever read in my entire life. I could not believe that I read and appreciated another book by him called Chanakya's Chan t.  But I realised that book was different. I did not like his writing style at all but I appreciated the concept and there was indeed a story in it. This book had very little story. It was a bunch of fact, real or not, thrown in together in a mish-mash bound by such poor writing skills that I cannot believe it ever even got published let alone be bought. And no concept was even explained, but just somehow added together. Did you know that simply by being hypnotised you go back into your past lives, as many as you like. And you see the people exactly as they were, it doesn't matter that one time you were European, once Indian and once Japanese. When he did talk about things other than "facts" the descriptions were so weird and out of plac

Identity crisis?

A friend of mine, non-Indian, was telling me how to pronounce my name correctly! He claimed a certain letter was silent. I told him that in my language you read and write and pronounce in the same way and there is no difference, unlike English. He asked me what my language is. I said Telugu. He asked me what my tribe is. I asked him what he meant by it. He said Telugu is my clan. So what's my tribe, what town. I said I come from a city and it's well mixed up because it's a port town. He said if India did not exist what would I call myself. It took me a couple of seconds to recover and the conversation then continued separately in my head and in my words. In my words I said may be probably "Andhrite".I never say I m an Andhrite. I always tell people I m Indian. He then asked me what caste I am from. I told him that I refuse to answer. He said so that it meant I do not subscribe to it. If I did, would I be here? I just said no I don'

The Circle of Reason

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When I read Amitav Ghosh's writing, I realise why I read. For the love of reading and the art of story telling.  The story goes on and his stories are strong too. But it's the little detail here and a little extra there, that fills up your heart and makes you fall in love with the characters. He allows himself to follow the story with it's little stories woven around and within and through it. One of the accolades on the cover called him "Sheherazade". How true! The name has the same magic his writing seems to ebb and flow in. The Circle of Reason completes a circle on a man's love for reason and rationality that were inspired by the Life of Pasteur and fights many a fight with his weapons of reason and amusingly taking the form of carbolic acid. He passes on his passion to his nephew who takes it with him across countries and continents. And in unusual circumstances finds peace in the middle of a desert performing a ritual and winning a fight agains

The White Tiger in two 'India's

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I remember seeing a white tiger once in the zoo in Vizag. I never thought it was nice though. The shimmering golden skinned Royal Bengal tiger was more mesmerising, not white one. Against popular advice, I read the book by Aravind Adiga. I understand why people suggested I do not read it. It digs in hard to pull out the dirt of India. Or rather it tries to. The story in the 'darkness' of the Bihari village is a little made up. It is not really out right horrible or improbable but it tries hard to be horrible. I say it 'tries' because at some level it feels fake. Again, I'm not saying it's improbable; such stories do exist and even worse ones do. What I mean to say is that the author is not convincing enough. Like he is not sure how else to portray poverty. Like he doesn't really know it, feel it or even see it. Like he made up a story without living it and yet wrote the story from a first person point of view. So its like a man who is trying to paint

after the quake by Haruki Murakami

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This is the first time I've read Haruki Murakami's work. after the quake is a collection of short stories with the Kobe quake in 1995 as the central character. Actually not, the quake is not central. It is omnipresent like a background setting but doesn't have a direct impact on any stories or characters. It is a brewing theme underneath the day to day life, and time and again it takes the form of simple emotions. It's a small book. Just a few stories. UFO in Kushiro - a man who lost his wife (she left him after the quake) finds out about a UFO sighting with similar consequences, and how to keep bears away. Landscape with Flatiron - a man left his family to light bonfires in a beach town waiting to die trapped in a refrigerator, and how a young woman loves bonfires. All God's children can dance - a man finds his father and in the dark dances because all god's children can dance. Thailand - a woman hates a man enough to wish him dead in the quake, a

Is criticism a new fad?

(A first meeting conversation) Where are you from? India . Yes yes, where in India? I doubt you'd know. It's a beach town on the east coast. Visakhapatnam. Oh. I've actually been to India. Oh you did? Where about? Mostly north.  ... I don't like what they did to Mumbai. What do you mean? I don't like how the government threw everyone out. All the other cities in the world throw people out organically. London becomes expensive and people leave. But mumbai was built by throwing people out. It could have been more organised. *** (Not the first time. The rest of the discussion did indeed result in fair understanding of each other's point of view) I would most definitely support a woman. Over a man. Yes, if they are equally qualified. I believe a woman worked harder than a man to get to this equal position. Now that is discrimination. *** (A first meeting conversation) Calcutta is safe. As a woman I feel it's a safe place. People come to help yo

Locked in

I got locked inside the worst place possible. Trash. My street has a room where you throw the trash bags in, and the trash is collected from there. This room has a combination lock. I have no idea why. What do people steal from trash, and why does it matter if they do? Anyhow it has a combination lock. I usually Just open the door and throw the bag over into the massive wheel barrow like vessel, usually already piled with other trash bags, all the while standing outside the room.Today this vessel was so filled up that if I threw the bag, it would roll back on to me. So I walked into the room to put it in the second empty vessel behind the first one. I put it in while the door closed behind me. I was locked. The door is the wooden design with horizontal slanting slits for ventilation. I googled it for an appropriate name for the design but could not find (I mean I googled it now, not when I was stuck inside). So I could get plenty of air and that was a good thing. But no one could see

The Oath of the Vayuputras - Book 3 of the Shiva Trilogy

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The cover page, as always is remarkable. Lord Shiva in his glory, ready for the battles that the second book leads up to and yet you can never see his face. That is for you to imagine. Rashmi Pusalkar has incredible talent. I simply loved the first book because it was innovative and interwoven with the myths I learnt growing up. I kept playing a guessing game trying to figure out how everything would connect. The second book was rather surprisingly, Shiva insisting he is indeed the Neelkant and demanding respect. The third however has little story and even less character. And when there is no compelling story to lead you on, the focus moves on to the art of story telling and the writing style, neither of the author can claim. A better editor would have done the trick! Most of the story telling in Book 3 is restricted to battle strategy. The actually story itself had no story-telling to it. It was all narrative facts, including someone feelings and emotions. Brihaspati simply

a tune from a different lifetime

A tune, made of three notes in a sequence lasting roughly 6 seconds. I don't know who played it, where I heard it from or if it was really played at all. But I heard it, crystal clear.  I was walking down the road, against the tide of people pouring in into the train station in the evening rush. People everywhere,shouting, talking, screaming, laughing, and the wind in my ears making it harder to hear. Yet, through all the loudness, I heard it distinctly. With the sweetness of little bells on a little girl's dress. With the sharpness of a mind-numbing glass-shattering opera singer. With the calmness of still water rippling to music. The tune reached my ears and I stiffened. For a couple of seconds I stood still. I knew that tune but I could not place it. I turned towards the music, but that wasn't the direction it came from. And suddenly it stopped. I turned to walk away and then it began. And I was transfixed. It repeated in a loop on and on. And I knew it would ha

Food types

I am not really the food type. But I do have different types of food. Just to try. I have a good sense of taste. That is to say I can taste different tastes. Does not necessarily mean that I like a certain taste. I like all of them lightly, none of them largely and that is why I am not really the food type. So this post about taste-buds and food types comes because after a long time I tried a cuisine that was completely new. Newer than the Ethiopian eat-able plate in Pittsburgh or the potato soup in a bread bowl in Prague. I had Ghanian food. We have a Ghanian at our workplace ( he blogs as well, but differently ) who had been planning this for a while. And then in the middle of the day, we took the tube to the end of the district line. Our Ghanian friend had ordered the food before we arrived and there was loads of it. But since it was he who ordered, I don't know what we ordered. I understood someone of it but I can't really name any of it. Different types of fish, mea

Shantaram

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I think everyone agrees it's a thick book. But how thick a book is has little do with how physically thick it is and more to do with how it's written. The book to me is three parts and an epilogue. A rather long rambling review. But the book is 900+ pages so... Part one. This is the most beautiful part of the book. The literary style flows like poetry describing the most intricate details of the lives of people in Mumbai that will be engraved in your heart. It sets the reader through a voyage of humanity and what it really means to live and let live in conditions that would otherwise be uninhabitable. I use the word voyage and not journey because it isn't something solid or tangible, but letting yourself flow through the ebbs and tides of all feelings that rush at you. Unlike many other foreign authors captivated by the Indian poverty, Shantaram actually understands them. He understands why people fight tooth and nail to get a seat in general compartment and underst

Brunel and the Tunnel

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Wapping station is literally under the Thames, the entrance right on the bank. Marc Brunel made it possible. Actually he made a lot of things possible including machine production and was the first person to envision mass production. He son, Isambard surpassed him and is often regarded as one of the world's greatest engineers. Brunel Museum was by far the tiniest museum I ever saw. It's actually an engine room for the tunnel. Now used as a museum. But it still had everything. Sketches from the making of the Thames tunnel between Wapping and Rotherhithe, a video about the life of I K Brunel, storied of how young lad and his father made the tunnel happen. It also had a quip on how the tunnel that came after took very little time and money. However, that's now only used for cables while Brunel's tunnel is still used by the Overground, (running underground). It is worth a visit. Won't take you more than a half hour. But you will love the stereoscopes, is that what the

Colour Wheels

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Flowing in waves but straight waves unseen by eyes. A transparent piece of glass can slice it into a million colours and a trillion shades. And the colours continue flowing in many more waves and straight waves. Poetry flows with them. Songs have been forever sung. Feelings and passions swirl and twirl within the many shades. Cold or regal or stable ! Blood or fire or love ! Colours make the world a beautiful place. Black and white pictures are just that, black and white and unreal.

Delirium

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I slip in and out of sleep, in and out of dreams. I am aware. I am busy working when somewhere in the horizon I see a blast of lightning. Instinctively I duck away under the table. After a few seconds there is rumbling and then an intense wave of blasting air shattering the glass walls and debris hit everywhere. For a moment I am deaf. Then I am not. I hear people screaming and I get out of my hiding spot and run around to try make some sense of it when a wave of water crashes in from the glass wall that no longer exists. There is no water body around. Hard to comprehend. And the wave of water takes me with it and crashes into another wall. Again, the wall no longer exists and I felt myself being dragged towards it when someone grabbed me and gave me a handhold. Can't tell if it's a table or a chair. I slip in and out of sleep, in and out of dreams. I am aware. The whole world turns over as the water drags me but I am not falling. I am floating in free space. And then I sett

Movie time

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I've watched a lot of movies lately and haven't gotten around to writing about them... Django Unchained It was dark and satirical on an extremely strong topic. Every person shot down has a fountain of pulpy blood burst. Every scene has it's glamour and glitz. And a crazy mix of music! A single word to describe it would be Tarantino and everybody knows what to expect yet everybody comes to the theatre to watch it. Though a couple of scenes were a little disturbing the rest of it is pure entertainment. However, I have new found respect for Morgan Freeman. Matru ki Bijlee ka Mandola Everyone said it already. Pankaj Kapoor was brilliant. Everything else and everyone else was completely utterly random. If the movie makers spent a bit more time on getting a story around they would have had a bit more of a movie. The saddest were Imran Khan with his "posh" language and Anushka who can't seem to get rid of her spoilt girl roles. Life of Pi A directo

Heritage Hyderabad

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To India and back I had a rather long and lazy holiday. All my weekdays were the same. Slept late reading books, woke up late into the day, ate breakfast at lunch time and lunch at tea time, watched a couple of movies on TV and then chat a little with the family and then back to reading a book till late in the night. Occasionally I skipped a movie in the afternoon to go shopping. Weekends however were different. I reached on a Saturday so the first weekend was absorbed in my fake jet-lag. What it means is that I practically slept all the time I was not awake to eat or bathe. The second weekend we went to the Golconda Fort. I have never been there before. It was enormous. I had not expected that. I think a second visit is needed. We didn't climb up all the way to the chambers and we didn't stay for the laser show which was supposed to be the highlight. Quite a historic place. It was built by the Kakatiyas in the 13th century, taken over my the Bahmani Sultans, expanded by