Book Review for Blogadda : Barnabas

Five words...

"A very, very good book"

The shortest review ever and the most appropriate.

Barnabas, written by Sangeeta Nambiar is a murder mystery investigated by a young, intelligent chap, self-proclaimed "the first Private Detective of Bombay".

- Bombay, coz the book is set in the pre-Independence era (though thats the name I still use and prefer)

- Barnabas, coz the word rhymes with "bandobast" - a term that the protagonist's father has memories about.

Now Barnabas, as some of you might know, was one of the earliest Christian disciples in Jerusalem.

Not that that has any link to this story. Except maybe for one line about "flock" and religion.


When Blogadda sent me this book to read and review, I liked the cover (although I rarely judge a book by that feature). I don't expect too much from books of late, so this one came as a very pleasant (and rare) surprise. The author is extremely gifted and superbly simple. Isn't that the best combination to create a delightful story?

The vocab is sprinkled generously with words that will impress you and make you run for the dictionary. So also, is the modesty and honesty of the detective who has no qualms in confessing that mundane observations and conclusions skip him. You see him growing through the pages and his cracking the case soon becomes a personal victory for you as well. While I'd hit upon the solution long before it was spelt out in the climax, I enjoyed the stumbling and exploring, conversations and nightly excursions undertaken by Barnabas. The author has fantastically woven into the mystery, the upbringing and philosophical side of Barnabas, a true masterthought, as it helps you relate better with the detective and empathize with his well-wishing father and uncle. Even as you detest the nosiness and commanding attitude of the British policeman, and the high-mightiness of the firang folk. That's as far as our patriotism goes in the 21st century. LOL

 
The plot itself speaks about a woman who leaves her husband's house and is found dead in a remote, unlikely location. Characters include her domestic help, husband, friend, sister, the police and obviously Barnabas and his folks. Allusions to the freedom struggle and important entities are several, but they do not take away from the book, rather they add flavor and passion to the scenes.

The writer's theatrical background is clearly evident from the way the enigma unfolds. The plot, though not totally original, has its fair moments of surprise and revelation.

As I said, very, very well written. Not a waste of time or money at all.

(Not that I had to pay any; Blogadda has sent me most of the books that I am reading these days in exchange for my thoughts on the books.)



So, when are you grabbing your copy of Barnabas?


Cheerio!
Princess

"Cloud"ed

I wandered lonely as a cloud,


(But don't they flock in groups so sook?)

Underneath me, the world moved,

Nobody to spare a wave or look.



The trees and shrubs rustled their leaves,

Mocking my lonely passage in space;

I showed that I didn't care a bit,

Belied by my voyeur pace.



I watched the merry streams frolic,

My snow white fleece darkened by my sorrow;

I wanted to disappear, vanish, evaporate,

Like there was no yesterday, today or tomorrow.



In pensive thought I stood and rocked,

Moments felt like days and months;

You drifted past as I trudged behind,

The breeze to me what you were once;.



When does it stop, I mused aloud,

Exactly how does it all end;

A cloud with me to stay for life,

Where can I find you, my friend?



***



Thanks to William Wordsworth for the opening line of this poem, taken from the super popular and awesomely famous creation "Daffodils".



My own two-pence (twenty lines, actually) to follow it... Hopefully should get 1/1000th the recognition and 100% mental connection.



Cheerio!

Anuja

Jhakk and Luck

*Disappointment*

Your best friend and worst enemy.

So many of us would have been such better people without this phenomenon.

A young girl with stars in her eyes wanting to study abroad, an old man who keeps waiting to see his grandson but is often told the family’s too busy to visit, a teenager who desires a gadget that his parents promised but never got, a lover who does everything for her partner only to be told time and again how she has screwed his life and happiness, a professional who worked hard all year round only to be told that somebody else shall be winning the alpha numero position…

And then you are told to not be low and keep up your strength and perseverance, to not lose hope, time will pass, everything will be all right, god has better things in store, destiny and blah.

If you ask me, destiny has very little to do with it.

Most of our disappointments are caused either due to another disappointed individual seeking to spread the sorrow and sense of failure, or by substandard effort – not enough effort either in terms of dedication or magnitude.

But when the above is in place, and then disappointment strikes, woah baby. Not a pleasant sight. Not a nice feeling. Been there, done that, haven’t we all?

C’mon, you tell me. Who’s perfectly fine after being disappointed? People may hide their sadness in their hearts or their smiles, but the scar never goes. It stays long after the goal is finally achieved, if ever it is.

Then again, they say justice delayed is justice denied.

*Disappointment*

Disappunto. Teleurstelling. Desapontamento. Zhgënjim. Desencanto. Besvikelse. Enttäuschung. Niraasha. Pagkabigo. Díomá. Skuffelse Désappointement.

So many names, but the same effect – being crestfallen, broken, sulky, depressed, hurt, fury…

*Disappointment* 

If it’s your friend, you shall never see it.

If it’s your enemy, it will keep haunting you, returning to mar your joys and kill your passions, each time you wish for something, every time you work hard for something.

(Coincidentally, disappointment means little when you haven’t worked for something or don’t truly want something. You obviously don’t care. Which is perfectly fine, let me tell you that. If someone else is choosing your dreams and you allow them to become yours, then you’re asking for a letdown my friend…)

*Disappointment* 

Wallow in it for a while. Feel bad. Go on, be crazy. Hate the world, hate the people in it. It’s fine to vent. (Not publicly, if your dream is intact, it may backfire and unleash another spate of disappointments.) But really, it’s okay to not be okay. You’re human, no matter how strong you are.  And if people don’t know or believe that, or don’t permit you the freedom to feel bad, then they’re obviously a bunch of dumb*ucks.

And then, once you’re done with the grief, ready to move on…

Understand the reasons. The what, why, how of everything that went wrong. You may not work on it again, or maybe not in the same place with the same set of people, but learn from it. So that either you don’t repeat it, or you know what to expect when a similar situation arises.

If it something than can be fixed with a confrontation or expectation setting session, do it. Don’t hesitate. Direct spoken communication is the best form of dealing with people, the best way to clear the haze and let others know what you think and your rationale behind your actions.

Simple, innit?

 

*Disappointment*

Displeasure. Discontent. Disillusionment. Dissatisfaction. Distress. Disenchantment.  Frustration. Failure. Defeat. Regret.

*Disappointment* 

May you and I never be harassed by it anymore.

Easier to deal with it when you don’t have to face it.

Buena suerte!!

- Princess

   

Oh-some Threesome

Time for another review, fellas!

(Is my blog getting too commercial and less personal? Well, apologies are in order if that is the case. However, I possibly cannot say no when someone offers me a free book (or a free meal / trip / ticket / tour / blah). Since my writing skills are above average, I guess it is part and parcel of the deal. Get something to experience and write a review in return.

Not a bad deal now, is it? In fact, I would call it my dream job. Offers anybody?)

:-)

The experience in question this time is a book by Rohit Gore impressively titled “Circle of Three”. The name enamored and excited me, but the book, sadly did not do much justice. No doubt the writing is engaging, but the plot could do with a little magic. You know what I mean? Something that was not so run off the mill.

Having read books of the caliber of the Godfather, Prisoner of Birth, Palace of Dreams, Fountainhead, (even the Harry Potter and Twilight series for that matter), I certainly expect more deep and engaging than the average Archie comics fan.

But let me tell you the story and then you can decide for yourself if this is your kinda novel or not.

It’s about three people, and every chapter is named “Three (something something)”. It’s like a progression of sorts, where three miserable individuals move on from their agonizing existence, due to certain circumstances, to a more live-able, pleasant life.

Thanks to each other, obviously. That’s why it’s a circle. Though a triangle would be more apt a shape…

So well… a boy who’s bullied by his schoolmates and ignored by his parents meets a woman who has lost her hubby and child and thereby her will to survive, and then they both meet a chap who is a glorified loser. They help each other re-discover themselves and this is what the book is all about. 

Sprinkle in some masala scenes and crazy side characters and you have a concoction called Circle of Three. 

As I said, nothing extraordinary. No doubt the author’s got literary prowess; he manages to make some drab scenes pretty exciting. But hey, we’ve all been there and done that. At least seen it, if not experienced it first-hand.

Honestly, I don’t know what else to say. If you’re the sort of reader (like me) who wants to read a book just for the sake of it, go ahead, grab a copy. But if you think time is money and you expect to read books that blow your mind off, let this one pass. I’m sure Mr. Gore’s next one will be much better. The author has it in him, hopefully it should be more evident the next time around.

Many thanks to Grapevine, though, for sending me this book to read and finding me worthy enough to express my two pence on it.

See you later, alligator.

Cheerio!
Princess  

Turnstiles

And we’ve reached a point where you just don’t care…

Where I have become, from a laughing eager bundle of fun, a passive stranger, haunted by the ghost of my past, that never will die away, but only will make it more difficult for me to survive.

Breathe on, I will. Die, I won’t. Live, I don’t know.

I wonder how easily you can hurt me. I’m amazed that my pain has ceased to bother you. Have we come to this already?

This strange feeling of not belonging to each other, nor to anyone else? Not to our own self even?

I used to think there was a limit to everything. A limit to loss, a limit to tears, a limit to love, and a limit to agony.

How naïve! None of these has boundaries. Not one of them follows logic or commands. 

Failures are endless, and you can cry infinite times plus one. You can love someone like you’ve never before, feeling that you can’t exceed ever, and yet you discover new ways every passing day. And agony…

As each pain throbs and dulls, a new one takes its place. Challenges and obstacles multiply each time you pass one, and disappointment lurks around the corner, promising you to grind you and push you down, as you struggle to rise with new hope and vigour. Being resilient is a curse, smiling through pain is a shame. The best ones among us do it. And we are punished for our crime by being made to scream in our hearts, calm and mute outside.   

How much can you test me? How badly will you make me suffer? Are you waiting for me to give in and give up? Are my bent head and moist cheeks reward enough?

As I lie next to you here tonight, I feel purposeless, unneeded, a trespasser on your bed, a stranger that thought not unwelcome, just doesn’t belong. I feel like an intruder, depriving you of the most minimal place that I occupy on your bed as I shrink to take no more space than absolutely necessary. I’ve never felt this way before.

I wonder why I do today. I wonder what has changed. I wonder what can I say to make it better.

Nothing. Its best when I say nothing and feign normalcy.

Isn’t that what you want of me?

I wish I wasn’t here. I wish my thoughts would carry my body just like they’ve transported my mind to a place where my presence is acknowledged and cherished, not merely taken for granted.

Am I demanding too much, by expecting you to care? Should I feel guilty for hating your peaceful lack of concern? I feel a stab of unrest, of foreboding.

A voice inside my head says that it wasn’t always this way. The fact that it is now, isn’t good news. Is it a herculean task to ask me what’s bothering me? Why I am feeling the way I am?

When asked, am I supposed to answer immediately for fear that you mayn’t ask again? Have I been reduced to that level of formality? Have I brought this upon myself?

I don’t know. All I know is that my unhappiness means nothing to you.

If that is true, what am I doing here with you? If my pain and turmoil don’t top your list of worries, am I justified in spending this gorgeous life with you, in such an unworthy fashion?

Come to think of it, have I become unworthy to you? An obligation that you no longer love or want, but have only gotten used to?

A tear slides down my cheek as I wonder what has brought us to this.

Should I blame destiny for everything that has not worked out the way I wanted it to?

Has destiny made you forget that I am lying right next to you, barely a few inches away physically but miles and yards away emotionally?

Has destiny made me aware of just how insignificant and useless I feel with you?

Is this what I was bound to look forward to, as I fought my peers who advised me against the same consequence?

Every minute here is torture. Each fingernail of space here is a favour.

The few centimetres between me and you are now as vast as those between the moon and earth. A distance I can neither ignore nor bridge.

Now that we’ve reached a point where you just don’t care…

I continue to breathe, but how long will I last this way, I can’t say…

P.S : This is a work of fiction, fellas. Don't worry, I'm good :-)

Love,
Princess 

A wanderer's fantasy

(This poem was conceived as an entry into an Indiblogger contest : one that promises a trip to Melbourne, no less!! And if that does not sound worth it or exciting, then you MUST visit this website : www.visitmelbourne.com/in )

Founded in 1835,

Hey you can call me naive!

But I'm going to Melbourne soon,

And I'd need facts to stay alive.

As I step out of the Tullamarine,

An airport so huge and fine;

I marvel at the City of Literature,

The street art as rich as full-bodied wine.

Unravelling the numerous charms,

Hidden in the city divine;

The aura and versatility,

Enthrall the body, heart and mind.

Struck by wanderlust,

I "shuffle" through the Melbourne lanes;

Having my fill of the Australian cultural capital,

My fatigue and boredom wanes.

A lively, ambitious teenager hoping to study further,

I held Melbourne inspiring and dear;

(Did you know Cate Blanchett, Rupert Murdoch

And Kylie Minogue were born here?)

A hop, skip and jump,

On and off the free City Circle tram;

The Docklands and Cooks' Cottage,

Gift me memories unforgettable and glam.

Melbourne Aquarium whisks me away,

To the waterworld and kingdom of swim;

Level 88 on Melbourne’s Tower Eureka,

Seems more incredible than a crazy whim.

My highest flight of fancy ain't a match,

For balloon flights teasing the clouds,

The greeter's service makes me comfy and welcome.

I feel one with the jovial crowds.

As I think of home and family,

The "Indian" River Lagoon strikes a chord;

Lookout areas that transport me to paradise,

And causeways ingenious and broad.

Chinatown, gardens, spa, events and zoos,

Melbourne's got it all;

Eat, explore, shop and make merry,

I rejoice until I fall.

As my reverie ends,

And I ponder when and how,

Indiblogger and Visit Melbourne whisper,

... It's your time to visit Melbourne NOW!

Cheerio!!

(With fingers crossed as hard as I can...)

- Princess

Angels and Demons

Too often, I am accused of being stupidly optimistic and foolishly positive about people. 

"Naive" - they call me. 

I forgive too easily, as I want to give people a second (and a third and a fourth and hundredth chance....) 

That it all happened unintentionally, that it was a mistake, is my confident assumption. No matter what evidence might reveal. 

I've always believed that people want to be good, and being good is the natural thing to do. It is THE way to be, as a first choice and inclination, for everyone without exception. Going by that logic, I suppose that people will think well of each other, help each other in times of need, talk highly of each other and not want to or act in a way that will either mentally hurt or negatively impact anybody else. 

I trust human beings will be good as far as their volition is concerned. It is only in extreme or unfortunate circumstances that they would behave in a "bad" ( = abnormal) way. After all, isn't being nice easier than being unpleasant? 

Unfortunately, more often than not, I am proven wrong. 

Most people are selfish. Several are evil. They want to see people fail, not succeed. They want to spread pain, not joy. 

Being "human" takes more effort and will-power than being demonic. Being a bi*ch is so much more simpler than being an angel. Thinking bad of someone, talking shi* about somebody, acting in way that impacts people's growth and image is a victory for people who feel better when someone else falls flat on their face, their efforts wasted, their esteem destroyed. 
  
Honestly, I don't know what it is about people that makes them want to be mean and wicked. 

It is beyond me why somebody created by God would want to be devilish. Why when you can't spread happiness, you would wish to spread sorrow and hatred. 

Don't trust me? Look around you. 

People will laugh when someone slips and falls, but few will rush to steady or help him. 

Where there are posters, you will see people scarring the faces of men and women or writing profanities. 

Gossiping is more about what people have done wrong than what they have done right. 

In times of difficulty, fewer people will agree to help, fewer still will volunteer. But the number of people who will wait and watch in the wings, looking for an opportunity to pull that person down a few pegs, 

Conniving idiots, the bunch of them. They obviously were not brought up in an environment where peaceful co-existence reigned supreme. That they need to wreak revenge on the world and inflict misery on everyone who dares to smile must have been their lesson numero uno. To wipe bliss from the face of their earth is their ultimate target.

Who said demons have horns?

Human beings lost theirs somewhere in evolution.

Only the physical way. The mental sickness endured.

Be good, folks. I implore you.

If you can’t help someone, at least don’t hamper their growth, harmony and progress. You don’t know how the other person is suffering, what his story is, what he is going through. Don’t add to his woes if you cannot multiply his peals of laughter. Attempt to make life simpler for others, not complicated or woesome.

Spreading mirth is the most powerful thing in this world. Goodwill goes a long way and makes possible the most bizarre wishes. You never know when someone’s passing blessing makes your heartfelt desires come true.

And if it feels good then, then you need to let the circle continue. One good turn deserves another. Make someone else’s day, make someone smile. Wipe someone’s tears and give someone a caring shoulder to cry on or an empathetic ear to vent. You shall receive more than you bestow. Not a bad deal at all…

Every single day, I come across an individual who treats the human race with overt and hidden violence. Every other day, I also encounter people who believe that being good is their dharma.

Takes one to know one. We’ve all been good, we’ve all been bad. The point is which being prevails within you?

What is being good, you ask? Anything that takes the burdens off another person and makes him smile, even if for a moment. If you can predict that someone will be hurt unfairly and unreasonably by your word or action, hold that thought and scrap that deed.

After all, there is nothing as tangible as the curve of the lips and the wetness of tears, whether held or flowing.

What’s your good deed for everyday going to be?

Spread the love, luck, laughter. You shall be repaid manifold. It doesn't matter from which quarters. What matters is that the good shall rebound to you.

And you needn’t wait to go to the next world for that. Heaven is here, so is hell. Depends on what kind of people you meet and most importantly, what kind of person you are…

Cheerio!,
Princess