My brother's first interview

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My Review of Nikita Lalwani's The Village

LITERARY REVIEW, September 2, 2012

 FAKING MOVIES

The ‘Gifted’ writer—gifted  used literally as well as metaphorically—Nikita Lalwani’s  debut book was  gem of a novel. The readers liked it. The critics loved it. A story about a child prodigy growing up in 1980s Cardiff, Gifted was published in 2007 and  collected a Booker longlist and a Costa shortlist on its way to be declared winner of the inaugural Desmond Elliott Prize.  And now, Nikita’s second novel, The Village, is just out. By any yardstick, this is a decent work of fiction. But, please don’t try to compare it with her first novel.

In An Open Prison

In The Village, the story begins when three Britishers arrive at an open prison called Aishwer, somewhere in north India, to make a documentary film for BBC on the lives of the people living there. Built as a part of prison reform measures, the prison village resembles a typical Indian village which has bare minimum amenities and all the signs of poverty.  But there is a difference. Each household in this village has one person who has killed somebody and is serving a life term.  

Among the BBC crew is the director of the documentary Ray Bhullar who is of Indian decent,  a virgin and strict vegetarian. Serena, the domineering producer, and Nathan, the ex-criminal and eccentric presenter, are other members of team.

 Initially, things go as planned by Ray i.e. to make a documentary following all the professional and personal ethics. But, then her boss from London pressurises her to add melodrama, conflicts and tears to make the documentary emotionally appealing.  A conscientious person, Ray finds it morally difficult to follow her boss’s orders.

Unlike Ray, Nathan and Serena are more ‘practical’ and are willing to cross the border of morality if it is required to make their programme successful. They manipulate and instigate the prison inmates for the desired footage for their documentary film and, in doing so, they disturb the precariously balanced equilibrium of the prisoners’ mundane lives. The novel opens a bit slowly and becomes even more sluggish as we progress. It picks up pace in the second half, throwing some surprises that are the soul of this offering.

Ray is a properly fleshed out character and her moral dilemma is portrayed impeccably except nothing is known of her background. This reviewer feels that the back story about the protagonist would have made the story more interesting and added a few more layers to the character. Serena and Nathan, on the other hand, are underdeveloped characters. The motivation behind Ray’s fascination for Nathan is also left unexplained.

Satisfying Denouement

Nikita’s writing shines when she tells us about the ambience of the village. The descriptions of open prison transport us to the village and we feel like watching a 3-D movie.  She also does a great job while introducing the inmates of Aishwer to us. Characters like Nandita, Daulath and Ram Payari have been so perfectly etched out that we immediately empathise with them and crave to read more about them.

The best thing about this novel is that it has a very satisfying denouement and it delivers more than what it promises at the beginning.  Plus, it raises a very important question about  reality TV:  How real are the reality ?

My Review of Taj Hassan's Debut Novel in The Hindu

LITERARY REVIEW

September 2, 2012

-------------------------------------

Uni-dimensional

The author, Taj Hassan, has made good use of his experience as an IPS officer in the naxalite affected areas while coming out with this insightful novel about the Maoist insurgency. Had his editor invested a little more time and energy and guided the author in shaping this novel up properly, The Inexplicable Unhappiness of Ramu Hajjam, would have been a great book.

Contemporary Ring

The story is mostly set in two fictional villages of Bihar. One village, Tesri, is inhabited by so called low caste people and most of them are either menial labourers or are some kind of small time businessmen. The other village, Bhagatpur, has predominant population of high caste farmers. The main protagonist of this story, Ramu Hajjam, is a poor barber from Tesri who makes his living by running a roadside saloon. One day, Ramu the barber accidentally cuts Subedar Singh’s cheek. Subedar, a high caste man from Bhagatpur, beats Ramu badly for this small mistake. This incident infuriates Ramu’s only son Pawan and he decides to avenge the insult to his father. Pawan runs away from home and joins a Maoist group. The things change for the residents of Tesri and Bhagatpur as a bloody game of violence and counter violence unfolds before their eyes.

Thematically speaking, it is an attention-grabbing book as the Maoist violence and the anti-insurgency operations by the government always remain in the news. The author’s use of multiple point of views suits the story and the use of slangs adds local colour to the prose. However, his failure to do full justice to the two main characters is a negative aspect of this work of fiction. Ramu Hajjam, the chief protagonist, is well chiseled character but he does not get as much space as he deserves. By showing more of Ramu’s back stories, the author would have made this character more interesting and more convincing. Another major character, Achal Singh Mukhiya, the feudal lord of Bhagatpur, is shown as one dimensional creature as one never gets chance to hear his inner voices. In other words, Mukhiya gets the caricature treatment. Further, Pawan’s journey from a village teenager to a hardcore Maoist is too hurried.

     

Despite these flaws, the novel is successful in taking its readers to the hinterland where the presence of government is negligible and where the brutal inequality and appalling poverty breed extremist ideologies like naxalism. A decent first attempt by the author. This reviewer will definitely look forward to read his next book.

EK GHAZAL

EK GHAZAL 

तेरा होना एक ख्वाब सा है 
सेहरा में एक सराब सा है 

जिसके बोसे से जल गया अक्स मेरा 
वो चेहरा कुछ गुलाब सा है 

मुन्जमिद है इसलिए सख्त है 
वरना इस प्याले में कुछ आब सा है 

वैसे कहता है मुहाफ़िज़ खुद को
लेकिन शक्ल से सैय्याद सा है

ग़म-ए-हिजरां का क्या ज़िक्र करें अब्द
उसका विसाल भी कुछ अज़ाब सा है




 सराब: mirage,  बोसे: Kisses, मुन्जमिद: solid,  आब : Water, मुहाफ़िज़: protector,
 सैय्याद :Hunter, killer, ग़म-ए-हिजरां: pain of separation,  अज़ाब , ordeal

My Review of BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY

Published in THE BOOK REVIEW, June,2012

THE DARK UNDERBELLY OF THE SHINING INDIA

On the cover of this elegantly written reportage-cum-travelogue is a shabbily dressed teenage girl holding a toddler. In the background we see the thatched houses and many tell-tale signs of extreme poverty. From the cover photograph itself you have a fair idea what this book is all about. At the top of the cover it reads Beautiful Country: Stories from Another India. The title is apt because the stories here are, of course, from another India; an India which is different from the India portrayed by the worshippers of mindless consumerism and votaries of crony capitalism. This India doesn’t shine and remains unaffected by the impact of double digit growth. This is, in fact, the dark underbelly of one of the world’s fastest growing economies where majority of Indian citizens live. They are ‘resilient and courageous women and men of India whose ordinary lives and extraordinary spirit inspired the author duo, Syeda Hameed and Gunjan Veda to write this book.

 Beautiful Country chronicles the journey undertaken by Syeda Hameed, the social activist and member of Planning Commission, and Gunjan Veda, journalist, to that another India, the India of villages and small town. And what they observed during their visits was quite disconcerting. From a river island of Assam to the tribal areas of Andaman Nicobar, from the freezing valleys of Ladakh to the backwaters of Alleppy in Kerala, they criss-crossed the entire country taking notes of the daily lives of the people living away from the glitz and glamour of the big cities. During their voyage they encountered the people and visited the places which rarely appear in the mainstream media.

Somewhere in this book the authors take us to Daniyalpur, Varanasi, and we are introduced to Maimun Nisa and her son. And it goes like this: Thin face, sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, a frayed light pink dupatta covered her head. Her son, Imran, was tiny and had the face of an old man—shrivelled and shrunk. His feet were so thin that we wondered if he would ever be able to walk. His head seemed too big for his small frail body. These lines speak volumes about the so-called growth that our country has witnessed during the last two decades. Clearly, much applauded Manmohanomics has failed to bring noteworthy change in the lives of the people on the margins. Across the country there are many Daniyalpurs, there are many Maimun Nisas and many Imrans. If we move further, we see a school being run under open sky in Kashmir, thousands of people going untreated on the river islands in Assam, the men and women working on handlooms from dawn to dusk for meagre salaries in Malegaon, the women and the children dying in the tribal areas of Maharashtra and elsewhere in the want of basic medical facilities. Go further and more stories of misery and deprivation will pour in.

 Are we, as responsible citizens of this country, doing our bits for our less privileged fellow Indians? Or at least are we giving voice to their concerns? Perhaps, not. But, there are many individuals whose selfless services are changing the lives of the millions. In Assam we have Sanjoy Hazarika, a former New York Times correspondent who is managing trustee of the Centre for North-east studies and Policy research (C-NES). C-NES is agency behind the idea of boat clinics which reach out to thousands of people living on the different islands of Brahmaputra River.  Then, there are a group of doctors who have left their lucrative jobs and comfortable lives in the metros for serving the poor tribals of Chhattisgarh. Syeda and Gunjan tell us about many such courageous men and women who, in their own small ways, are making a difference.

What strikes me most in this book is the tone of the prose which is laced with empathy and honesty. The authors don’t hesitate to accept that as a nation we have failed to take care of our people on the margins. This fact is generally not acknowledged by our politicians and bureaucrats. For example, in the foreword of this book, Dr Montek Singh Ahluwalia, Deputy Chairman of Planning Commission, lauds Syeda and Gunjan for their remarkable work but at the same time he is reluctant to accept that the bureaucracy has failed when it comes to taking governance to the downtrodden and poor people. At the very end of the foreword, he attempts discreetly to dilute the seriousness of the book. This has been the biggest problem with our bureaucratic set up that they never accept the reality and try to hide the truth under the carpet of the statistical data. So, instead of doing the real work most of them --but not all— are busy stacking data.

 About this book, Khushwant Singh says, ‘The truth about India’s development, as told by those who know it, makes for a compelling read.’ I can’t agree more but would like to add that it also makes for a disturbing read. At the end of this review I would like to quote four lines from Allama Iqbal’s Bal-e-Jibrail (Gabriel’s Wing) which the authors have quoted at the beginning of the book.

 Khol ankh zamin dekh falak dekh fiza dekh

Mashriq se ubhartey huey suraj ko zara dekh

Iss jalwa-e-beparda ko pardon mein chhupa dekh

Ayyam-e-judai ke sitam dekh jafa dekh

Open your eyes, look at the earth and the sky

Look at the sun rising gloriously in the east

Look at its unveiled glory hidden behind veils

Suffer the pain and torture of days of deprivation

 This offering, undoubtedly, is going to be an eye opener for those who have not seen the real India, yet.

Reviewed by: Abdullah Khan (abdullah71@gmail.com) 

CLICK HERE FOR THE Scanned copy of the review

My Review of Anita Agnihotri's Book

India not shining

ABDULLAH KHAN

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Special ArrangementSeventeen, Anita Agnihotri, Translated by Arunava Sinha

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Stories that sensitively chronicle the miserable plight of the majority of India's population.

A civil servant by profession, Anita Agnihotri has been involved in various kind of rural  development programmes and has seen the real face of India: the India which is not shining as claimed by the purveyors of mindless consumerism and unbridled free market culture, but is stained with the grime of poverty, the scourge of brutal inequalities, and the acne of underdevelopment. The reflections of this dark underbelly can be seen in many of Anita's stories. She sensitively and beautifully chronicles the plight of a major chunk of the country's population for whom ‘ deprivation' is a part of daily life and two square meals a day is a luxury. The portrayal of the predicament and idiosyncrasies of individual characters has also been done  very subtly and effectively. The use of metaphor, at times, appears to be excessive but can be ignored keeping in mind the fact that it is a translation from the Bangla originals and the ornamental style of writing is acceptable in Indian languages.

Larger picture

Seventeen opens with a story “The Crater-Lake” where ‘a brother-and-sister visit the unique crater lake that their dead, estranged mother had written to them about in her letters'. At first look, it appears to be an ordinary story but once you get deeper in to it you get the larger picture where you see the sufferings of a woman and a mother. But why she has to suffer? Because she has committed a sin of being a woman in this man's world (Yes, it is still a man's world, isn't it?). The author has repeatedly used the meteor as a metaphor to describe the dilemma and the agony of a wife and a mother and, of course, of a woman, and this has come out quite well.

“The Shadow War” is a tale of the devastation caused by the so-called development where narratives move matter-of-factly. You see here the kind of price individuals and the society as a whole have to pay for the game of crony capitalism. Elsewhere in this book, there is a boy who decides to take care of the girl whom he had defaced years ago by throwing acid. In this story, you can't decide whether the boy is a villain or a hero or a mix of both. In fact, throughout the collection you will find that most characters are difficult to bracket as heroes or villains. In another interesting story, “The Principal”, a middle class employee is not paid salary on the pay day and his life turns topsy-turvy. There are 13 more such stories and each of them has different set of characters and different settings but is equally engaging and insightful.

The translator Arunava Sinha has been doing a great service to the Bangla Literature —and a great favour to the readers who can't read Bangla — by translating many of the great Bangla authors in to English. Like his previous translations, he has succeeded in conveying the nuances of Bangla language and retaining the flavour of the original prose while rendering these stories in English.

http://www.thehindu.com/arts/books/article3383576.ece

Loved this Stephen King's piece of writing!

 Stephan King scolds the supporters of Tea Party and the cherishers  Of Ayn Rand's philosophy(sic) of 'Selfishness' in this wonderfully written piece  made. Thanks King and Thanks The Daily Beast.

""I guess some of this mad right-wing love comes from the idea that in America, anyone can become a Rich Guy if he just works hard and saves his pennies. Mitt Romney has said, in effect, “I’m rich and I don’t apologize for it.” Nobody wants you to, Mitt. What some of us want—those who aren’t blinded by a lot of bullshit persiflage thrown up to mask the idea that rich folks want to keep their damn money—is for you to acknowledge that you couldn’t have made it in America without America. That you were fortunate enough to be born in a country where upward mobility is possible (a subject upon which Barack Obama can speak with the authority of experience), but where the channels making such upward mobility possible are being increasingly clogged. That it’s not fair to ask the middle class to assume a disproportionate amount of the tax burden. Not fair? It’s un-fucking-American is what it is. I don’t want you to apologize for being rich; I want you to acknowledge that in America, we all should have to pay our fair share. That our civics classes never taught us that being American means that—sorry, kiddies—you’re on your own. That those who have received much must be obligated to pay—not to give, not to “cut a check and shut up,” in Governor Christie’s words, but to pay—in the same proportion. That’s called stepping up and not whining about it. That’s called patriotism, a word the Tea Partiers love to throw around as long as it doesn’t cost their beloved rich folks any money.""




TO READ THE COMPLETE ARTICLE CLICK HERE 

Review of Neglected Poems in The Hindu

April 1st, 2012

Title of the book: Neglected Poems

Poet: Gulzar

Translator: Pavan K Varma

Publisher: Penguin India

Price: Rs. 399

Sampooran Singh Kalra-- better known as Gulzar--  has been enthralling the connoisseurs of Hindi film music since 1963 when he made his debut as a songwriter.  Teaming up with great music directors like  S D Burman, R D Burman, Salil Choudhary, Madan Mohan and A R Rahman, he has created many timeless classics and has won countless number of accolades including an Oscar and a Grammy. But, not all of us are aware that Gulzar is also a very respectable name in the world of Urdu poetry. His poems have been translated into many languages including English. This volume ‘Neglected Poems’ has his original Urdu poems (Nazm)  in Devnagri script and the English translation side by side. The translator is career diplomat-cum-writer Pavan K Varma. This is the same Mr. Varma who is also known for his beautiful renditions of  Kaifi Azmi’s works in English, a  highly readable biography of  Mirza Ghalib and a slightly ‘controversial’ book on the Indian middle class.

As you glide through this collection, you feel amazed: How easily Gulzar is able to create beautiful poetry out of the mundane events of his life? How ordinary people and places sound extraordinary in his words? How real becomes surreal?  And from where he borrows all those imageries and metaphors to employ in his songs and poems?

Let us taste something from this book:

When it rains

Drenched figures begin to emerge

On these mud and mortar walls;

Then the rain, falling gently, like muted hiccups,

Writes a familiar script:

The rain conveys something.

Perhaps you may recall having seen

A letter drenched in tears

That looked something like this?

On the one hand there is a melody of romance and tender love in his poems, on the other hand there are hard-hitting commentaries about the state of affairs in our country and elsewhere. For him Gujarat’s Godhra and post-Godhra riots become ‘a feverish rash over the whole body’, Iraq is a place where ‘the debris of war has collected..’ and Sardar Dam  is a valley ‘where a river will now sit coiled like a snake between three mountains.’ 


Sardonic Tones


The tone of these poems is a bit sardonic but also some sort of sadness permeates through the verses. Then he talks about megacities like Kolkata, Chennai , Mumbai, Delhi and New York.  In the poem titled New York , he says: In your town, my friend, how is it that there are no homes for ants? …… in your town lineage of insects and spiders never grow. These lines sound simple but they are not. These are the metaphors used to describe how the megapolis has got rid of simple pleasures of life and has made it more complex and unhappy. And how those who are not able to cope with the drastic changes around them, have been either shunted or pushed to the margins.

Each poem of Gulzar has its own story and each of them helps you to understand ‘the complexities of human relationship’ and offers a totally new perspective on life.

Coming to the editorial aspect of this collection, this reviewer feels that the Hindi part of the book has not received enough editorial attention. The spelling in Denavgari version has inconsistencies as some words are spelled differently at different places. Perhaps, the attempt to imitate the exact Urdu pronunciation may have caused these mistakes. Additionally,  the inclusion of original Urdu texts would have given this book a different aura, and it would have been a great favour to those who can read Urdu.

While discussing the translation of literature during the Calcutta Literary Meet, Pavan K Varma had quoted Gulzar: “Translation is like a mistress, if she’s beautiful, she’s not faithful and if she’s faithful, she is not beautiful.” Here, Mr. Varma has tried to strike a balance between the beauty and the faithfulness, but his emphasis clearly is more on the faithfulness factor.

Email: abdullah71@gmail.com

A WORKABLE DREAM 

(An English translation of my poem Kamchalau Khwab)

 I set out on a boat of memories

into the ocean of imaginations

in the search of my dreams

that had drowned years ago

the dark clouds of doubts

the terrifying storm of hopelessness

 the high tides of fear

 discourage me to go ahead

the helm of my courage

is about to slip away from my hands

as I see

the lighthouse of hope

I could know

this is the shore of an island

the island of desires

where there is a forest, full of  trees of imaginations

And on this strange island

I may not get my lost dreams back

but I can find a dream surely

a tiny but  workable dream

कामचलाऊ ख्वाब 

==========

यादों की कश्ती पर बैठ कर 

ख्यालों के समंदर में निकल पड़ा था  मैं 

तलाशने

अपने बरसो पहले डूबे हुए ख्वाब को

शक-ओ- शुबहा के स्याह बादल

नाउम्मीदी के दहशतअंगेज़  तूफान

 अंदेशे  की ऊँची ऊँची  लहरें

रोकती रही मुझे  

मेरे हौसले की पतवार 

अब छूटने ही वाली थी  

मेरे हाथों से 

तभी मुझे दिख गया उम्मीदों का लाइट हाउस 

और मैं समझ गया 

यही है साहिल

हसरतों   के जज़ीरा   का

 इस जज़ीरे पर एक जंगल है तसव्वुर के  दरख्तों का 

इस अजनबी  जज़ीरे पर 

 मेरा खोया हुआ  ख्वाब मिले न मिले

मगर  मुझे कोई न कोई ख्वाब मिल ही  जायेगा 

कोई भी छोटा मोटा कामचलाऊ ख्वाब 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

KAMCHALAU KHAWAB

 Yadon ki kashti par baith kar

Khyalon ke samander mein nikal para main 

Talashne 

Apne barso pahle dube huye khwab ko 

 Shaq-o-shubha ke syah badal

Naummeedi ke dahshat angez toofan 

 Andeshe ki unchi unchi lahre

Rokti rahi mujhe

 Mere hausle ki patwar 

Ab chhootne hi wali thi 

 mere hathon se 

Tabhi mujhe dikh gaya Ummeedo ka lighthouse

Aur main samajh gya 

yehi hai sahil

Hasraton ke jazira ka 

 Is jazire per ek jungle hai tasawwur ke darkhton ka 

Is ajnabi jazire per

Mera khoya hua Khwab mile na mile 

Magar mujhe koi na koi khwab mil hi jayega

koi bhi chhota mota kaam chalau khawab