Book Review: Butterfly Season

It’s hard work writing a story. Trust me, I know. I have been trying to write one for a while now. Which is why I truly admire Natasha Ahmed for making it look so easy, so effortless, in her book Butterfly Season.

Rumi, the central female in her story, would probably find a good friend in many South Asian women. Her hesitation at allowing a man to come close to her, her frustration at the tangle of social norms and family diktat, and her decision to choose daring over common sense in a moment of freedom is common to life in this part of the world. In other words, Rumi carries within her a bit of women from across South Asia – Pakistani, Indian and others. Little wonder that I couldn’t help but view her as near real than as a fictional character.

Rumi’s story begins in London, where she meets Ahad, a man who is as good as any can get (good looks, good language and a sense of humour – what more could one want?). They are both drawn to each other, and helped in the process by their mutual friends. They try to get together, but there are several wrenches thrown into the works – Rumi’s holier-than-thou sister, who is not ready to accept her sibling’s right to freedom; her family back in Pakistan, who hold out the threat of social norms; and her extended family in London, who are eager to arrange her marriage to a boy of their choosing.

Rumi and Ahad have their own issues as well. As someone who spent her life looking after her parent, Rumi comes across as an extremely responsible person who carries around the emotion baggage from her past. Ahad has his own personal issues with commitment, which threaten to rip apart the delicate relationship that he shares with Rumi. Just how their relationship progresses with all of these factors thrown in – and whether it leads to a ‘happy’ ending remains to be seen.

This is a book you have got to savour, not rush through. It is a book that will paint the scenes of a beautiful story in your mind’s eye. It is a book that will make you smile. For it is not just a romance novel – it is a story of hope, of courage and of finding one’s own sense of self.

Book Review: And the Mountains Echoed

I have read Khaled Hosseini’s Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns, but it was not the knowledge of his works that made me pick up And the Mountains Echoed – it was this review.

This book takes you on a ride through several people’s stories, all of whom are somehow connected to the house where the Wahadatis, a wealthy family, lived. There is Pari with a gap-toothed smile and her older brother ‘Abollah’; siblings by birth, but bound by love so pure that even the Gods would become jealous. And they do, apparently, for Pari is sold to the Wahadatis, in whose house the children’s uncle (Nabi) works as a chauffeur and handyman. The children’s cries rent the air when they are parted from each other, but all too soon, they are back in their own lives – Abdullah in his village, carrying the burden of his lost sister in silence, and Pari, distracted by new parents and a world of luxury.

Within a few years, Pari’s adoptive father, Suleiman, suffers a stroke, which renders him immobile and unable to care for himself. Leaving Nabi in charge, Suleiman’s wife Nila flees to Paris with the daughter. Several years later, Nabi is left alone in the house (which is now his), and chooses to rent the place to a Greek aid worker named Markos. By the time Markos arrives on the scene, Afghanistan has been through a round of wars and the Wahadati’s house is riddled by bullet holes and decay.

We encounter Nila and Pari again in Paris, with the latter all grown up, but holding a void deep within, an absence that cannot be explained. The beautiful, chain-smoking, alcoholic Nila reveals parts of their lives in a magazine interview, but Pari is left to piece together the rest by herself. In the meantime, Nabi, on the brink of death, writes a long letter to Markos explaining all that happened, and asking for help in amends to be made.

There are several other characters who make their appearance as well, and leave their mark with little stories of their own. Abdullah’s step-mother Parwana, who literally shoves her beautiful twin out of her life, but bears the guilt of her actions for days to come. Markos’s female friend Thalia whose jaw and cheek were mutilated by a dog, but gains courage and the will to carry on from Markos’s mother. Timur, an incurable Casanova, who overtakes his moral cousin Idris by helping a young girl, who was the victim of a horrific murder attempt, through a life-saving surgery. And there is the young son of an Afghan army commander who is made to see the ugly side of his father’s philanthropic activities when he befriends a a boy who formerly lived in refugee camp, and now lives in the open fields.

All of these stories touch on different, conflicting, aspects of human life – love, betrayal, hope, sorrow, kinship, separation, trust, lies… And yet, truth be told, i found myself feeling a bit disappointed at the lack of drama, of violence and the intensity of emotions. When i put the book down, i didn’t feel a sense of happiness, that all was well at last, when Marriam comes into her own in A Thousand Splendid Suns, nor a feeling of overwhelming gladness that defined Kite Runner’s last sentence, “For you, a thousand times over.”

But, upon reflection, maybe it is this lack of drama that makes this book a masterpiece. The ability to observe the different characters’ lives without ascribing any form of judgement, but merely recording their thoughts, words and reactions, is probably the best gift a writer can give his readers – by allowing us to weigh each story against our own parameters of right and wrong, Khaled Hosseini has made us as much a part of the book as Pari, Abdullah, Markos, and all others.

Another sentiment comes to the fore – that there is usually little by way of drama that accompanies even the most horrific of events in human lives. Oftentimes, the people in the situation resign themselves and find a way to keep the daily humdrum of life going. And maybe that is where true heroism lies, where real beauty is to be seen, where the best stories are to be found.

Book Review: Back To The BCs

there are books that your read. and there are books that make you forget the world around you; that take you on a whirlwind ride through far-flung places in long-lost times, in the company of people who are familiar, like memories from an account you read somewhere – and that is what Back To The BCs is all about.

when i first saw the book, i knew it was going to be a fabulous piece – even without opening it. i have worked with Pavithra Srinivasan and Lalitha Thyagarajan in the capacity as the Sub-Editor of a children’s magazine – and i am more than familiar with their talents as a story-teller and illustrator. suffice to say that they can bring stories to life – one with words, the other with pictures. a combination of their creative capabilities can only mean an excellent book that is intellectually engaging and aesthetically appealing.

i don’t praise the book in vain – pick up a copy, turn the pages, and you will (most probably) agree with me (there are always exceptions to every norm, after all).

each of the six stories is a little nugget of history carefully wrapped around intriguing stories that will keep you glued to the page, even as subtle hints scattered through the narrative egg you on to decipher the underlying mystery. this is history brought to life – the beautifully-inked characters on each page beckon you into their world, and you suddenly understand that all this did exist.

close your eyes and allow the illustrations to take root in your mind’s eye – and you can imagine yourself standing next to the headman as he explains how Mohenjo-Daro came to be; or next to Vishnurata as he quietly spells out the fate of river Saraswathi; or alongside the two scholars who spend a night discussing morals and statecraft.

sadly, and far too often, history is represented (in textbooks especially) as a set of words and facts without a soul – which is why many of us fail to understand what a wonderful thing it is.

but every once in a while, books like these come along and remind us that history is made up of the lives of people very much like ourselves. and that they wrote down their tales for the same reason we write ours – that some day, someone will read them and pause to realise just how much things have changed with the passage of time. and yet, so much remains the same.

Movie Review: The Artist

after a really long time, we have a movie that does what movies started out to do – tell a story, and tell it well. The Artist is not about a brain-draining complex story, or a racy plot involving guns, ferrarri chases and high-octane sex, and – really sorry to disappoint – definitely not about anjelina jolie’s tweet-worthy right leg. its a simple story about two actors, their changing fortunes, and about their relationship through this time.

the best part of all – its silent almost all the way (except for one line at the very end), with expressions, gestures, and the odd sentence flashed on screen to tell you bits of dialogue and narrative. and the film is shot practically all the way in black-and-white.

set in the late 1920s when talkies first began to make an appearance amidst the world of silent films, the story is set around George Valentin, the handsome hero of silent films, and Peppy Miller, a beautiful young actress who starts off by auditioning for a role in Valentin’s film, but later outshines him when she becomes an icon in the emerging trend of talkies. the story follows Valentin’s painful  journey as he faces the slow demise of support for his beloved silent films, which also results in his fall from fortune and grace. on a parallel note, Peppy Miller rules the cinema and becomes the poster girl for talkies. tracking the progress of their lives and the twists and turns of their relationship forms the backbone of the plot.from beginning to end, the story is rather simple – even predictable. but what kept me glued to my seat was

the way it was told. 1920s London recreated with such perfection that makes it hard for you to believe that this movie was made in recent times; subtle expressions and expert acting that make you forget the need for words, attention to detail that ensure that every prop and extra contributes to the overall beauty of the scene, and – more than anything – a manner of storytelling that draws you into itself, without your realising it.

you smile with Peppy when she caresses Valentin’s suit, hold your breath when they dance and hope that they kiss, ache for Valentin when he falls on bad times, and cross you fingers that their love comes to be. you nod knowingly when Valentin clutches a disk that has a roll of him and Peppy dancing even when he isstruggling to get away from a fire. and wish he would understand that she was only trying

to help when she bought up all his former assets from the auction. you love the little dog for staying with Valentin all the way, and admire the butler for trying so hard to stay with his master. and you wait and wonder – will Valentin and Peppy come together? and you walk away with a spring in your step when the screen falls on a happy ending – in  the best way possible. and only when you walk away do you realise that a story doesn’t have to be said – just felt.

Mood-lifters For Monday

over the weekend, i came across two things that have acted as an antidote for the monday blues! 🙂 one is a book, the other a song.

the book is The Arty Farty Party by Pratik Basu – i am only quarter-way through the book so far – and i am loving every bit of it! 🙂 in this tale about a man who makes a career switch to the world of advertising, Basu brings together wicked humour, impeccable language, an intriguing plot and catchy characters. i laughed myself silly last night while reading it – and cant wait for lunch time today to continue! 🙂 go get a copy!

the second is the Why This Kolaveri song, sung by dhanush for his upcoming movie 3. weaving a catchy tune around some very silly-sounding lyrics, newcomer anirudh has created a feet-tapping, head-nodding classic that will lift up your spirits in an instant! 🙂 plus, you cant listen to the lyrics (which includes things like “cow-u cow-u, holy cow-u, i need you here now-u) in a pucca tamil accent – and not break out into giggles! 🙂 im hummin it – and giggling – right now!! 🙂

ciao peeps! have a great week! 🙂