Back with the Books (A review of ‘Unlove Story’)

 

I got introduced to Sudipto through a WhatsApp group for 40+ people in Bengaluru. I learnt that he had written a book in Bangla which had since been translated into English. I connected with him over social media (Instagram) too. I saw a few updates from him about his book (his profile picture too features him with the book). Soon, I found myself invited to his and his partner’s (Biman) home on the occasion of their anniversary. I could attend it with Sayambhu as I was visiting from Andaman (yeah, I wasn’t yet back in Bengaluru). We met again at another Bengali couple’s home over dinner, but I wasn’t very keen, to pick that book up and read. 

Suddenly, this week I chose to order the book and be done with it. I ordered it along with two other titles. I wasn’t too sure if I wanted to read it yet. Some of my previous experiences of reading the books written by friends and acquaintances weren’t too positive. That was preventing me to dive into this. Now that the book was in my hands there was nothing much else I could do. I chose to read at last. In no time I realised my hesitation was and doubts were unfounded. 

‘Unlove Story’ (translated from Bengali by Arunava Sinha)  tells the tale of Mallar and his ‘Unlove’ over a course of fifteen years. An adolescent, Mallar meets Srijan at his friend, Chikan’s place in his hometown and begins to learn gardening from him. Srijan,  a few years his senior, becomes both his mentor, muse, and inspiration. The inspiration turns to adulation and brings forth the hidden feelings in the young Mallar, to which Srijan responds too. 

What could have been a love story becomes a saga of how not to love, or question, and only live in the moment, as preconditioned by Srijan. Over the years, the starcrossed and besotted boys grow into men, move places, bump into each other once every few years and discover they yet not have lost their attraction towards each other, despite others flitting in and out of their lives.  

Will Mallar forever live by those conditions set by Srijan or will he unshackle himself or both from them and find the love he has always pined for?

The story narrated in a linear fashion without too many flashbacks and back stories or sundry characters as fillers. The atmosphere is evocative of rural Bengal and even when it moves across different places, it weaves them all within beautifully. They add to the characters and the emotions they are going through ever so subtly. The characters stay real and true to life, and make you relate to them. The love story that is not supposed to be draws you in and keeps a hold over you until the end. Once you begin reading there is no way you would want to keep it down and think you would read it later. You may want to again, once you’re done reading in one sitting, this time languorously.  

I had previously too read a few queer titles written by Indians. Barring ‘Mohana Swamy’ a collection of short stories by Vasudhendra, a friend, and to a lesser extent  ‘Don’t Let Him Know’ by Sandip Roy, none other had made an impression. Until now. ‘Unlove Story’ made me feel that not all is lost in queer literature in India. In one phrase, go read it. 

Did I like everything about the book? Like a nitpicker that I am, I could point to some that I couldn’t/didn't agree with. Like, the unravelling of the plot suddenly at the end. Or, the way Mallar frets over lack of clients for paintings (and until then he never sounds like he cared about money so much). But, these are my issues, and most others may think they are the chinks in the character that add to the beauty too. 

A special word of praise is reserved for Arunava Sinha. The translation doesn’t feel like it is. It feels organic, original. Nowhere it feels forced. Having seen how botched translations can get, this is no mean achievement (and I discovered, as I read the print on the book sleeve, Sinha has been nominated for awards both in India and abroad for his amazing translations. Take a bow!). 

I am glad I read Sudipto Pal’s novel. I now hope there would be more stories coming from him, and from other queer people too. The community has millions of tales to tell, and the world needs to know. 

Reading (Is) An Adventure!

Humans are thrill-seeking.  All of us love adventure - whether we truly indulge in one or not.  It could be hiking up a difficult mountain, scuba diving, or bungee jumping.  Or even motorbiking all the way to Leh and beyond via Rohtang Pass.  What was the last adventure you were on or have dreamt of? Have you ever been on a road trip? How long was it, in terms of days and kilometers?  What was your experience?  Where did you go and was it a trip by yourself or with friends/fellow members of a group?  Even if you haven't done a road trip, they do hold our fascination. Each of us would have dreamt of doing one such trip in life. It evokes nostalgic memories of our own bonding with friends during our travels (even if they weren't road trips), reminds us of cult movies like, 'Dil Chahta Hai' or 'Zindagi Na Milega Dobara' (Did you know that these two movies were directed by brother and sister, respectively? That's the movie-buff in me speaking).  This blog post is about one such road adventure.

It had been a while since I had picked up books.  I hadn't ventured out to buy any.   Covid ensured for a long time we could hardly step out, be carefree, roam about and collect memories.  As the financial year drew to a close at the office, my deputy reminded of the monies that still lay unspent in the allocated budget.  Among other things to facilitate work flow easily at office, I chose to order books online.  

I ordered five books in total, and four of them were by woman authors.  This was not planned.  For someone who reads escapist fiction and cheap thrillers most time (even though I claim to be interested in most genres except romance), the choice of books/titles was surprising.  Unsurprisingly though, the first book I chose to read was, 'The Inugami Curse', by Seishi Yokomizo (a Japanese work translated to English). Needless and yet I mention, this book purchase was influenced by my reading of other Japanese authors.  It left me deeply dissatisfied.  

With great reluctance I began reading Piya Bahadur's 'Road to Mekong'.  I had never heard of the author before (it is her first book, and a travel adventure at that).  I had not known of this event - women bikers on an international road trip.  But since it talked about something out of the ordinary, my curiosity was certainly piqued.  And, soon the preface itself had me hooked.  The book narrates the experience of 

Road to Mekong - as the cover itself clearly indicates - narrates the adventure of four women on a road trip across different countries.  And, it is no ordinary road trip.  The four women rode on 400-CC two-wheelers (Bajaj Dominar) across India, Burma, Laos, Vietnam, Thailand, and Cambodia, a phenomenal 17000 km distance in 56 days.  It narrates the experience of the quartet of JB (Jai Bharathi), Piya Bahadur, Shanthi, and Shilpa Balakrishnan on a trip of their lifetime from the perspective of the author (Piya).  

The book not only shares the triumphs and travails of traveling on the roads seen and unseen but also gives us the background info regarding how the quartet set about going on the trip.  It brings into focus the time that one needs to overcome bureaucratic hurdles and red tape - not just in India but elsewhere while on the road - and what it takes not to give up one's dream.  While JB and Shilpa are experienced roadsters, Piya and Shanthi aren't.  Piya believes she's the least experienced of the lot since Shanthi - a policewoman from Telangana - is a decade younger and fitter. 

The entire travelogue (if one could call this so) is enriched not just by the happenings on the road, but also the insights the author gives regarding the people they encounter and their behaviour towards women riding all by themselves on tough roads.  There are also great musings about women, empowerment, rights, and life goals.  The book culminates as a life-enriching experience for the author where she learns to not give up, and yet let go (a contrast of sorts).  It is a journey that takes the reader along faithfully.  A journey where the reader experiences the thrills and toughness of the sojourn, and the life lessons it offers.

I strongly recommend this book to everyone who reads - both women and men.  Do not read it expecting glorious descriptions of the tourist places the riders stop at or what different sites they visited while on this great trip.  Read it for the sheer joy of a person opening up her mind and expressing herself eloquently.  This book surely is a leg up for women's empowerment.  

I do have some grouses too with the book.  One, the author is in a hurry to narrate her experience, and I sincerely wished the book lasted longer.  At less than 200 pages, it feels like a disservice to all the experience she might have had.  Also, the rest of the riders remain pale shadows and do not emerge as persons in the book, beyond the basic introductions (barring JB to a certain extent).  I truly wish the author had taken time to construct their sketches too.  But that does not take away anything from the writing.  It's just my desire that there should have been more!

If you are into reading at all, go grab this!

Black Water Lilies: A Review

The entire country is under lockdown.  Our offices are working on skeletal strength.  Even though I am attending the office everyday I do not have adequate work.  What better way to spend time than catch up on reading! Thankfully I have a stack of books that I am yet to read.  One of them was 'Black Water Lilies', by Michael Bussi.  I am reading the translation of the original French work, a murder mystery. 

Set in Giverny, a small village and home to the celebrated painter Claude Monet, the book generously uses its backdrop - both the village  its famous resident and art - as ingredients of the novel.  It tells the story that purportedly happens over 13 days, which begins with a murder, and ends with another.  The central character of the book is an old woman who every so often comes and narrates parts of the story, and how she is able to see everything in the village - because she lives in the high tower, and how she knows all the answers, and yet we have to wait with patience to get to them.  

It begins with the murder of Morval, a local ophthalmologist and art collector.  And, it appears that there are several who have a motive to kill him.  His wife.  The husband of a woman he was besotted with.  Other random liaisons he has had over time.  Other art collectors.  The murder is investigated by a team of police, headed by Laurent, a man of passion and intuition. His deputy however is all about attention to detail, gathering of evidence, and sticking to the right investigation processes.  Who gets to solve the murder?

The book is about Fanette, a prodigious 11-year old artistic talent, who wants to escape from the suffocating small village into the wide world.  It is also about Stephanie, a seductive school teacher, who wants to escape a loveless marriage.  And, yet again, about the old woman who flits in and out of the book regularly, telling us acerbic tidbits about the local people. 

 When you pick up a murder mystery what ingredients do you look for? A good plot, quirky characters, a gripping suspense that stays alive till the last page, and unexpected twists would top the list.  And, Black Water Lilies delivers on all these and more.  The narration for most part of the book is deliriously delicious.  Even as I wanted to race to the climax, I yet didn't want the book to end, and I hung on to every word and sentence.  The writing style is so lucid that the art of Monet and the village of Giverny and its people come alive. 

This is certainly a book that I would recommend.  Even without the plot twists and deceptive narrative tricks, the book would be immensely readable.  And, what stays more than the suspense and the lyrical beauty is the emotional sucker punch the book delivers in the end.  It did stay for days with me.  If you love reading, go grab it.  I know, you can't rush to a bookstore.  But, then ebook is very much in your reach.

Things We Do For The Kill

I just read this news through a link on my friend Tom's facebook page.  The systematic way Amazon is killing competition.  And the unfair methods it's employing to increase its business.  I do not know who would win this war.  The e-commerce portals like Amazon or the corner-side book stores.  Though the odds are heavily stacked against the bookselling stores I've very little to wager.  Out of emotion and nostalgia my bet's on the brick-and-mortar booksellers.  Damn Amazon!

Here's the link for those who're interested to read

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/13/opinion/amazons-jungle-logic.html?pagewanted=2&_r=2&ref=opinion

The Bookworm Resurfaces

Each year I make a wish-list for the books that I intend to read.  The goal is to read at least 25 titles each year.  Barring 2006 I guess I've been managing to do that rather successfully though many of the books I've read in the recent years do not measure up to the praise heaped on them.  

The best fiction I read in 2010 was the 'The Millennium Trilogy' by Stieg Larsson (originally written in Swedish, translated to English).  Unfortunately the author didn't survive to see the publication of his novels and he had the ambition to write 10 novels in all in the series.  The character of Lisbeth Salander is one of the best women characters ever created by a novelist in the recent years (and if I ever get to make a movie/teleseries based on the Trilogy I'd cast Kangana Ranawat in the lead role).  If anyone of you reads this blog and decides to read these novels, my only piece of advice to them is, "Do not read all the three at a stretch.  Give a break between the two books so you can relish them".  

Economics is one dry subject and the writers are drier than hay mostly.  Derivatives?  God save those who have to read anything about them.  Surprise of surprises.  I not only read a book on derivatives but also found it impressive, interesting and unputdownable!  'Traders, Guns & Money' by Satyajit Das is a revelation and the author's tongue-in-cheek humour is delicious to say the least.  This was the book of the year (non-fiction) for me.

This year too I desire to read at least 25 titles - a judicious mix of both fiction and non-fiction, hopefully.  Here is the list of books that I already am in possession.  

Fiction

1.  Burnt Shadows by Kamila Shamsie.  The novel was shortlisted for the Orange Prize.  Set in the period of II World War the story traverses several countries, tracing the love story of a Japanese girl in the aftermath of the Nagasaki bombing.

2.  Shadow of the Wind by Carlo Ruiz Zafon.  Translated from Spanish, this is a part of 4-book series.  Hoping it to be as exciting as the back cover indicates!

3. Red Earth and Pouring Rain by Vikram Chandra.  I read 'Sacred Games' by the same author last year and found it impressive.  So, decided to pick up his first novel, which had received rave reviews but wasn't otherwise noticed by me.

4.  The Finkler Question by Howard Jacobson.  The 2010 Man Booker Winner.  Nothing more to say.

5.  Way to Go by Upamanyu Chatterjee.  His 'English, August' was a runaway bestseller and was also made into a highly successful movie but he followed it up with a few duds.  Hoping this to be good.  

6.  Artemis Fowl  Series by Eoin Colfer.  Juvenile fiction.  But I'm a great sucker for these kinda books (following the Harry Potter series).  There are seven books in all but listing them all as one.

Non-fiction

7.  India After Gandhi by Ramachandra Guha.  The history of the world's largest and least likely democracy and its struggles, humiliations and glories.  

8.  The Battle for God by Karen Armstrong.  A former nun (who served the order for 7 years only to quit) writes with great insight about the fundamentalism in Judaism, Christianity and Islam.  

9.  The Edge of Reason by Anil Ananthaswamy.  Dispatches from the frontiers of Cosmology.  A travelogue that celebrates the blood, sweat and tears that drives our understanding of the Universe, said The Guardian about this book.

10.  A Cultural History of Ladakh by Nowang Tsering Shakpo.  I was gifted this book by my colleague's  (Mushtaq Ahmed) father who was impressed with my knowledge of Bhutan, Buddhism and the Oriental Culture of Tibet.  The author's the first cousin of Mushtaq's father.  It also made me realize the relative non-importance of religion in relationships (the author's Buddhist, while my friend's a Muslim).

11.  I, Durga Khote.  An autobiography by the legendary actress, translated from Marathi.  My friend who visited Jammu left this behind after much persuasion :)

12.  Fooled By Randomness by Nassim Nicholas Taleb.  I am sure this book is going to go all over and above my head but still want to give it a try.  

13.  Storms in the Sea Wind by Alam Srinivas.  The much-public, all-over-the-media war between the two Ambani brothers caught the attention of the entire nation and even the courts and the government.  Might make for interesting read, albeit a little late in the day.

That leaves me at least another 12 spaces to fill. Any suggestions from friends who might happen to read this (apart from wishing me, 'Happy Reading')? 

The Bookworm

I’d promised to myself that I’d read 50 books in 2009. I didn’t keep count though I read quite a handful of books. Just that I hardly read any non-fiction. What a shame!

2010. I already have a selection of books at hand. And what more, a large number of them are non-fiction (of course one would point out that most of them relate to the economy). And, I have some books by Indian authors too (I’d read reviews eons ago and I picked them up at a sale). Here’s the list.

Fiction (9 books)

The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo

The Girl Who Played With Fire

The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest

The above three books form the Millennium Trilogy by Stieg Larsson, a Swedish journalist (and rights activist) who died before the books were published. I’ve heard that these books have become a rage the world over (and I’d not heard of it at all). The books have been translated from Swedish to English. I am keeping my fingers crossed.

The Black Book. By Orhan Pamuk, the Turkish author who won the Nobel in 2006. I’ve been immensely impressed by his works that I’ve read so far (My Name is Red and Snow.

The Romantics by Rajkamal Jha

The Blue Bedspread by Pankaj Mishra

The Collected Novels of Khushwant Singh

The Time Traveler’s Wife

The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux

I have never read so many Indian authors in a year. It’d be fun reading Khushwanthough!

Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel. The only reason for picking this up is that it won the Booker. I wasn’t mightily impressed by the last couple of years’ Man Booker awards (Arvind Adiga and Kiran Desai). I hope I’d not be disappointed once again.

Non-Fiction (11 books)

Infectious Greed (Frank Partnoy)

A Search in Secret India (Paul Brunton)

The Crunch (Alex Brummer)

Fooled by Randomness (Nassim Nicholas Taleb)

What On Earth Happened? (Christopher Lloyd)

Panic! (Michael Lewis)

Undercover Economist (Tim Harford)

Storms in the Seawind Ambani Vs Ambani (Alam Srinivas)

Traders, Guns and Money (Satyajit Das)

Beyond the Last Blue Mountain (RM Lala)

Veerappan’s Prize Catch: Rajkumar (C Dinakar)

It doesn’t matter if I end up reading 25, 50 or 100 books this year. I’d love to end up having gone through some quality stuff. Happy reading!

A Time for India

“I don’t like the soup Sudhir” SC whispered next to me. “Let’s just get through with this S… We can leave after this” I consoled him. He and I were due for a dinner date. We were all sitting at Kamat Bugle Rock. “This is the book I’ve co-authored” Lakshmi said as she passed a copy around the table for everyone to see. I remembered the first mail she and I had exchanged after we had gotten back in touch – after a life-altering span of over two decades. She’d mentioned about it in her mail. Lakshmi, Bala, Shashi, Vasantha, Meena and I had gathered in Bangalore to muse over the nostalgia of a bygone era – our school days. (May be I’ll write a separate post on the reunion).

“May I have a copy of it Lakshmi?” I asked “I didn’t find it in any bookshop”. “Of course Sudhir. You won’t find one in India probably” Lakshmi replied. She expressed her disappointment over the review KB Ganapathy (I hope I’ve got the spelling right Lakshmi!) had written in Star of Mysore where Lakshmi had worked many years ago. As I left early from the reunion gathering, Lakshmi handed me an autographed copy of her book.

I didn’t immediately read it. I had just started reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I also had False Impression (J Archer) to read. I thought I’d read ‘A Time for India’ at leisure. When I spoke to Lakshmi last she asked me “How did you find it?” “Watch my blog. I’ll post a review”. This is an attempt to keep my promise.

“A Time for India” is written by Dan Ellens and Lakshmi has contributed several chapters to it. The book largely is about Mr. Ellens’ two year stay in India and his experiences of living/working/travelling here. Lakshmi chips in with her insights into the Indian history and culture. It is difficult to ‘slot’ this book into any particular genre. Sometimes I felt it was an attempt at writing a travelogue and at others it was like an introduction to India to the uninitiated Americans.

Dan Ellens’ enthusiasm to write about his India Experience is palpable. He definitely has a story to tell too. There are several interesting anecdotes too that bring a smile (or even a chuckle or two). And, one soul-searching question – when his son Kirk assumes that he’s a native and not an expatriate. But all these things fail to hold the book together. The reader’s interest waxes at times and wanes at others. What could have been a winner on the lines of ‘The Inscrutable Americans’ turns flat. It appears that Dan doesn’t have a flair for writing. He doesn’t have the vocabulary of an author. Even the funniest of encounters he has experienced turn prosaic due to a lack of imagination in his narrating style. At times his writing borders on the banal and resembles an India Travel Guide penned in a tearing hurry.

Condensing the entire history and culture of India into a few chapters (of not more than 6-7 pages each) is not a task that many would venture into. And the onus to do it for this book is on Lakshmi. It would be unfair to criticise her efforts as she tries to provide as much information and as succinctly as possible. But one can’t expect those few pages to do justice to either the vast history or the humongously rich and diverse culture of India. It can be noticed that very little of South Indian history is written about in the book. And of North Indian society or culture. It surely wouldn’t be an oversight. It’s natural that Lakshmi would focus on the South Indian culture (Tamil to be more precise) when she writes about Indian culture (the chapters on religion and customs). But Lakshmi your narration at times is way too pat when giving live examples of current India – you sure could’ve come up with something better than naming people Ram and Shyam!

The book doesn’t become a racy read either. Dan decides to club all similar things together. Like his travels around the country, all the festivals he celebrated, the culture-curry, etc. Had an attempt been made to write it chronologically than being laconic and had it also recounted some of the experiences of the other family members too (Cathy and the children – though the author mentions in the preface that they would every evening share their day’s comical experiences at the dinner table they don’t appear in the book), the book certainly would’ve been more enjoyable. Also I found the constant reference to lizards extremely unfunny and jarring.

Then there are several factual errors in the book. Bhutan, for one, was NEVER a part of India. And Vijayanagar Empire was founded in South India and not Central. The Buddha lived in the 6th Century BC. I would have loved to argue also about the ‘theories’ that have been made use in the book while reconstructing the Indian history. But then Lakshmi wasn’t writing a history book. And she does have the liberty to choose the theory that fits her best.

If only Dan had a better editor the book could have been turned around, rewritten a bit and rearranged a bit more to make it interesting, witty and a wonderful account of living in India. Then I wouldn’t have had to disappoint Lakshmi with my write-up on something close to her heart. Certainly this is not the vehicle for Lakshmi to showcase her writing talents. All she has to do is to dive deep into her own rich experiences (including teaching English to children in Mysore) to write a wonderful book. I hope she’ll consider that and oblige us with an independent work of her own!

Beyond the Bayonet - A Review

The world today finds itself in a larger chaos and turbulence than before. The strife within the nations and the tensions among the nations are on the rise. There are no permanent allies or enemies – a situation akin to that found in Indian politics. Every country would look towards its own security in such a scenario. Men of the military try to formulate innovative strategies for their armies’ success.

Brig Deepak Sinha’s ‘Beyond the Bayonet’ is a book that attempts to visualise the Special Operations Forces in India in the 21st Century. Since the book is written by a long-serving, much-felicitated Army Officer who himself belongs to an elite SOF of the country, the expectations soar high. That too since it is one of the few books that address the issue of SOF requirements. Even the introduction on the inside cover of the book promises a tantalising account.

The book is divided into four main sections: The evolution of SOF – an historical perspective, the SOF in various (developed) countries, the Indian SOF and lastly, the remodelling of SOF in India. From the word go it becomes apparent that Brig Sinha has culled a vast number of sources (and resources) to author this book. He quotes extensively from his rich sources. The description of evolution of SOFs in various countries (including India) is interesting. He also paints a good picture of the various SOFs – their evolution and status - of India.

However, the author places a far greater emphasis on the evolution of SOF over the centuries and the models of SOF available in many developed countries than necessary. Almost half the book is consumed even before the author addresses the SOF from the Indian perspective and even more before he arrives in the 21st Century. But that is only one of the minor flaws. Further, Sinha shuttles between many ages at the same time creating confusion in the reader. Also, the only noteworthy mention of any Indian SOF of the past (read, pre-British) he makes is that of Shivaji.

Any book written about the defence requirements of a nation must first analyse the threat perspective. A country has to devise an SOF based on its needs and not on what kind of SOF exist in other countries. Today the needs (read, threats) are both internal and external. The strife and tension in the world has two broad reasons: resurgent religious fundamentalism and economic disparity. Similar tensions threaten our nation too. On an international level, the threats have only expanded. A peaceful Nepal has turned a Maoist haven. Bhutan’s porous borders have provided shelter to the ULFA militants. Bangladesh too has been a problem of late. The resurgence of LTTE is a reality that cannot be overlooked. These aren’t recognised by the author. Apart from giving lip service to the perceived Chinese and Pakistani threats the author does little else. Even here, the author assumes that the ‘conventional’ advantage India enjoys over China will continue for another 10 years! And, just last year China has successfully completed and launched its high-speed rail line between Lhasa and Beijing – a technical marvel – that brings the traditional advantages of India to a naught.

The balance between China and India doesn’t exist despite the nuclear deterrent. China’s nuclear stockpile is far, far larger than that of India’s. Similarly, its conventional weapons are far superior and greater (in numbers too) than that of India. The Kargil war established the woefully inadequate supply mechanisms of the Indian armed forces. The author talks about Pakistan exploiting anti-Hindu sentiments among the minority Muslim population in certain pockets in cases of Mumbai blasts and attacks on Akshardham temple in Gujarat. However Pakistan’s hand in either of the cases isn’t conclusively proven. And, it could even be strongly argued as an ‘expected’ reaction by the disgruntled Muslim minority – without any Pakistani involvement – to the destruction of Babri Masjid and post-Godhra riots.

There is very little that is said regarding the internal threats that India faces and the creation of SOF to meet these challenges. The Naxal problems of Chhattisgarh, Andhra Pradesh and Jharkhand, the ULFA menace of Assam, the perennial problem of Kashmir militancy and many other divisive forces that are striking at the root of the country are not discussed nor are any suggestions made to create SOFs (or better the existing ones, like the NSG or Assam Rifles) to handle these issues. Instead the author indulges in pettifogging about the minuscule allowances made to the Para regiments!

If an SOF has to perform well, it has to be linked with extremely well-equipped and reliable intelligence systems. Our intelligence networks have been in news for all wrong reasons – leaks et al. Brig Sinha overlooks this aspect in his book.

Good intentions do not make a great book. It is the originality of ideas espoused that make it eminent. Sadly Brig Sinha lacks original ideas. Ideally the book should’ve been written from a strategic perspective addressing the following under separate heads (apart from brief introduction on what SOF is and its evolution, present SOF in the country):

a) The Need for SOF in India – Internal and External Factors – The Threat Perspective
b) The requirements of different kinds of SOF (to meet internal and external challenges) and their organisation
c) The various requirements for a successful SOF apart from manpower – training, weapons
d) The Support Systems required for a successful SOF – Intelligence networks, Supply systems etc

Brig Sinha’s is one of the first books to be written on the SOF in India. He deserves credit at least for starting the process. The process of forcing the mandarins and the pundits to look at our dire needs and plan to meet them. It is fervently hoped that this book kindles the interest among the many military strategists of the country to write a more authoritative, original and handy book on operational forces. One that really looks beyond the bayonet!

P.S. This is my first 'official' review of a book. It took a great effort not to further hack the book to pieces!

A Storm Named 'Snow'

I’m 42. I fall in love head over heals. But it ends unrequited (after the initial promise of togetherness and happiness). I return to my solitude, drinks and dream-world. At 46 I am shot (and killed) for my transgressions of the past.

If only ‘Snow’ could be summarised thus!

Orhan Pamuk paints a compelling, claustrophobic, dark, bleak and surreal picture in ‘Snow’. It’s not just the story of Ka, the poet, a political exile and his quest for happiness. It tells us the story of a society in turbulence. It tells the story of the people whose faith shatters along with their lives.

This is the second Pamuk novel that I read. There are some threads that run common in both the novels. One is the presence of ever-falling snow. There is no respite from it. Second is the strong female characters (and of course they’re irresistibly beautiful). Ipek and Shekure (of ‘My Name Is Red’) share the same traits – they are women who know what they want. Third is the role of the author himself in the book (in ‘My Name Is Red’ Shekure tells us that she’s told the entire story to her son, Orhan). And just as in ‘My Name Is Red’ in ‘Snow’ too there’s a character named after a colour. But there end the similarities. Beyond this, the style of narration, the mood, characterisation, the setting, the time – all are different.

As the snowfall continues, the town of Kars gets cut off from the rest of the world. As the snow falls, the events unfold, the poet-protagonist’s beliefs are shaken, the insecurities increase, claustrophobia sets in, and the political tale grows morbid. Ka, caught in this vortex vacillates between his love for everything Western (and hence secular?) to his new awakening for the religion. And his belief in achieving ever-lasting happiness in the bliss of love wavers throughout too, before being doomed.

The conflict of ideologies – of the Left, Western and the Religious – forms the centre of ‘Snow’. The freedom of choice and its non-availability makes matters worse. This is evident in the play that is staged (the unavailability of a headscarf even to be used in a play in the 1930’s contrasts sharply with the gasps of shock expressed by the audience watching the same play in the 90’s). One might even be forgiven if one sees a soft corner in the author’s narration for the religious youth. Then again there is the irony of extramarital relationships, pre-marital sex, wining – all condemned by Islam. And the doubts of the existence of God in the minds of the believer. ‘Snow’ isn’t just a good reflection of what’s happening in the Turkish society but also is a wonderful mirror of the happenings in the entire world. When one reads about the headscarves girls of Kars, one’s mind immediately recalls the memories of the Muslim girls in Paris. It also reminded me of the ugly bias in India when the issue was all over the media, thanks to the Sikhs in Paris and elsewhere in France (“It is important that Sikhs be allowed to sport their headgear” everyone said but the same support wasn’t seen anywhere for the girls who wanted to cover their heads).

When I read ‘Snow’ I was overcome by extreme emotions. I haven’t found another fictional character like ‘Ka’ that I could relate to. I could see myself in his thought process, in his behaviour. I saw my own failures in his. I suffer from the same superstitions, fears and fallacies. I exhibit the same kind of supercilious attitudes. I marvelled at the author’s ability in creating such a character (of course I’m no poet like Ka) while also getting irrationally angry for laying me bare like this to myself.