In The Mirror

                      BOOK REVIEW : Mom and I Love a Terrotist by Leema Dhar

Starting from the year 2004 – the year when Indian paperback industry was finally out of the ICU holding the strong hands of Mr. Bhagat, it has long 8 years. And, the number of shelves at the bookstores containing Indian writing has been exponentially increasing. The curve showing the growth in sales is ticking up steeply. But, the ‘literary’ minds have been complaining since long. They complain about presence and absence of two very things in every new-era Indian writers. The presence is of ‘redundancy’ and absence is of ‘maturity’. And, the generalization went such an extent that a new Indian author book drove a sigh “one more IIM ?.. huh!!”

And, when the severity of the issue was gaining ground – a chunk of young authors came as saviors. If I am not too wrong, Leema is the youngest among all.

The story revolves around a girl and her single mom on the picturesque island of Andamans. The story peeps through the eerie juncture of teenage and maturity. The moment-of-truth when the peppy-flashy world crushes down to the harsh-grey reality.  The moment when a tender mind is bereft to depression by the gore realism.  And, the realism is symbolically presented in the black stranger. The extremity of darkness in real world can be compared to the throttling shock a delicate mind undergoes when it witnesses a stranger sharing her mom’s bed. And, then turning the pages of her dear mother’s uncanny past. The book is a journey through the nook and corner of a teenage psyche.

The author very sensibly staged the plot on the back-drop of a real massacre. The issue of extremist movement has been dealt with care and sensibility.  The struggle and the sacrifice for the proletariats are very loosely touched upon. Though, the main plot is miles away from this issue, the story through the eyes of her mother could have delved deep a bit more on this. It could have signified and justified her sacrifice and pride in a broader sense.

Mom and I love a Terrorist by Leema Dhar

The story has a sweet pace of its own. The characters evolve slowly through the plot in a definite manner. But the subplots seem to be blatant and dull compared to the main plot. The college friends of the protagonist are seen-them-before sort of. Which college movie missed a playboy hunk, a slutty expose-it-all girl or a possessive friend? – All of them have got it. And, the characters seem too loud and out of place for a matured plot like this.

The boat-maker for whom the protagonist fell for is introduced in a fantastic way. He was tall, dark, well-built with a mystic aura. But, on the course - he has been over-mystified. The character remained obscured for long. A letter to part-away is romantic in true sense. But, it was prevalent mostly in the black-and-white movies of the early 60s. And, this behavior from a matured guy – is like a stone to digest.  Though the author has endorsed platonic love throughout , the creation of bond between the protagonist and her lover remains half-baked.

The epilogue touching all lives in the story briefing their where-abouts is really fine. Finally, it is a brave attempt from the pen of a young writer. And, the maturity shown in unfolding the mystery keeping the thrill intact and touching upon romance of relationship and nature is done with sheer mastery and deserve kudos.

 Whatever, the show-stealer is the island of Andamans . The thrashing of cold-waves on the shore- the distant lights blinking in the sea – the cool breeze – is bound to fill your mind with utter tenderness and glee of teenage nostalgia.

In The Mirror

                                              That Beauty Never Lies                                

Even the bright shining sun is unable to cover the undue darkness that the economy is undergoing currently in England. The recent riot reveals the two disparate worlds – one that has all the luxury to enjoy a spendthrift vacation at exotic location and another that hardly can even dream of a day off in leisure. And, they are on streets massacring the vacations of the other world.

A car burning during the riots at London

 Prime Minister David Cameron was forced to return from his vacation in ten thousand pounds a week villa in Italy. London’s Mayor Boris Johnson returned from his family vacation in North America. Home Secretary Theresa May cut short her vacation in Switzerland.

As the fiery mob runs, loots, batters the ‘peace’ of London and other cities, it straight away unleashes the inconceivable gap between the rich and poor that was long preserved under the shiny gat-gates of the country. Now, they want their slice of cake – their right to survive.

Though analysts question their method of act, though statistics show that 60 percent of the rioters are immigrants – the realty strikes elsewhere. The time has arrived – the change is inevitable.

And a question comes here. How an economically stabbed country affords to buy tickets worth 60-70 pounds to enjoy the India – England test cricket. Keep aside the economic instability; the English people are also ignoring the security issues! I am terming ‘English people’ here, because the return of Ian Bell set the stadium abuzz with applauds – Only Indians wouldn’t have made this.

May be, the point of attraction is Sachin Tendulkar. The demi-God of cricket may have hypnotized the cricket- lovers to ignore all the trivial things and rise to become a part of the history by witnessing his 100^th century – a perk many future generations may not witness.

But, time and life has its own flow. It brings you back the stage meant for you to heal the wound that life has made decade back. And, when India’s batting order was trembling to the English bowlers, the stage was ready. Life has come a full circle after 15 years. Rahul Dravid was out at 95 fiften years back. He had a vengeance to take from the life. And, an intense cricket romance was destined to be sculptured on the Wall of Indian cricket.

The critics who are terming his innings as the master class are mistaken. This is Dravid class. The class that is developed over time and is a super blend of classical defense, copybook grammar and magical patience –  overshadowing the relishing beauty of stroke playing.  Even the cricket romantics are also bowing to the fact that technicality can also challenge the beauty of the game.

And, it makes us confront a lie that we routinely tell ourselves.’ The beauty does not matter, the outward appearance can be deceptive, and depth is more valued than gloss- are all what we believe should be true. And, it is simply not true.

Hina Rabbani Khar

  In every walk of life, from election to beauty contest – from promotion to sports – beauty matters.  Look at the more recent media frenzy surrounding India visit of Hina Rabbani Khar, the Pakistani minister of foreign affairs. She carried away with an impression of Pakistan’s new handshake stance with India. The extent of coverage on her looks and fashion sensibility once again proves the ‘lie’ a truth. The politically battered Pakistan is looking up to her as a fresh air to breathe. God has at last given them to look up to someone with hope.

Surprisingly, the God creates some miracle every time He sees His fellow earthian disciples in trouble. He made Indian beauty queens universe best when the conservative Indians were under huge economic debacle, He calms down the politically and economically agitated Spanish people by winning much craving football World Cup, He also made Indians dance in the cricketing tunes this April by gifting a win in cricket world cup much away from the shoddy agitations against their huge corruption in the Government and now He is also trying hard to make the English people smile by crumbling this World Cup winner  again and again and the list continues. Coincident cannot be so often. His indulgence is quite clear.

Rahul Dravid after the ton at Lord's

 And with the blessings of God the English pacers are able to lock the performance of the Demi God of Indian cricket (as TOI termed Rahul Dravid in the running England series) as only his personal achievement. As if he came only to mend up his personal grievance and the remaining players repeatedly made it sure that by no means the blessings of God can change sides, at least when England is under such a trauma.   

The economic darkness in England is looming. The riots are spreading. The police force is increasing exponentially. The English people now are patiently waiting for a bright sunshine. But it is not the time to “leap into the breakthrough” but quoting Jim Collins it is the right time to halt and “try to move the heavy political flywheel in the right direction” till the momentum comes that will drive the flywheel on its own. It may take long time to yield results but it will be sustainable.

The flywheel was set long 15 years back. Rahul Dravid was out for just 5 runs to a century. And, for the most of his journey, he was overshadowed either by the aura of Sachin Tendulkar or by the mastery of Laxman or Ganguly. The flywheel was thus gaining momentum. And after 15 years, the momentum is automatic. It is so robust that it denies defeat even in the harshest of the conditions. And the romantics who has always kept him out of the poetry of cricket saw in front of them how an epic is made.Just opposite to the conditions of England which seems destabilized and the exponential increase of police is indicative of the looming panic of the entire social system. It is the time to set the flywheel – and they know in which direction it is to be set.

When the entire stadium at Oval stood up for an ovation to him, Dravid also acknowledged by raising his bat. The emotion was sparkling at that moment. This is his last time here. I wonder when I last saw any cricketer receiving such accolades out of home. He has got the 'final justice' . This is the beauty of life and it never lies.