A Lungful of Fresh Air and a Few Pleasant Sightings

Earlier, I was passionate about jogging. But with years tearing by and sinewy muscles being slowly replaced by a less sturdy body and depleting muscle, jogging in the recent past has become a distant memory. But whenever I notice someone with a powerful physique, the need to jog gets ignited in the mind again. Unfortunately the passion lasts only for a day or two…and starts again when I spot someone with a deadly physique… much like the deadly, vicious circle that the old economics textbooks talk about.

I still wonder how John Abraham, Salman Khan and Akshay Kumar keep their bodies looking sculpted and well-toned. Of course, these guys could afford the best of trainers and dieticians, but then again if they didn’t slog it out at the gym, they could never have had such bodies. It only makes me wonder at their grit and commitment to stay in shape, even long after they have crossed their thirties (Among these, I guess only John hasn’t crossed his thirties). Believe me, as an ex-gym going guy, getting rid of flab and replacing it with wiry muscle isn’t that easy.

In fact, the likes of Johns, Salmans, and Akshays are the ones who keep me on my toes…I mean literally. Though I don’t come anywhere near them when it comes to keeping fit, the passion to keep clinically fit is what prods me into jogging every now and then.

Today, while jogging, I caught sight of a young child accompanied by his father (whom the doctors probably have advised to jog). Actually, the father wasn’t jogging, but running. Not because the doctors have advised him to. But because the kid was running away in whichever direction he liked. The child was innocently incorrigible.

Another thing that caught my attention was a group of art students sitting on a park bench trying to capture the morning sun on paper in colour. I walked to them and stood by the group, but they were so enraptured with the sight of the morning sunrays breaking through the woods, they hardly noticed my presence. I stood for sometime analyzing their work, and then broke off into a jog. when I finished my morning dose of jogging, I stood and stared at the sun. Drinking in the warmth and the dazzle. Knowing that the jogging ritual has cleansed my body, now I am ready for the highs and lows of life.

Inspired by the Chef-d’oeuvre

I was at an advertising agency on some work when I noticed a painting of a horse hanging on the wall. On a closer look, I found out that it was one of those rare arts of painting - “The knife painting”. Inside the frame, amidst a pale blue backdrop, was a magnificent spread of shades which took the form of a horse. The horse in a way looked vibrant, graceful and alive.

It was so appealing I immediately wanted to acquire it at any cost. As I stood enquiring about where one could buy such piece, I heard a voice behind me quip, “There’s only one piece and it’s not for sale”. I turned around to find the art director of the agency open the door and come in. He was beaming. I swallowed my disappointment and retorted, “That’s ok, but I just want to know where you bought it from?” But as I said, he simply stood smiling.

Then the graphic designers who were working with him let out a mild guffaw. One of them casually remarked, “That the painting was done by the art director”. I was completely taken aback. I knew the art director for sometime but I never knew he had a history of painting, and that too, such good painting. A sucker for good art, I immediately vowed to become his disciple. He only smiled at my perturbed composure.

When I told him of my desire to do knife painting of an American Bald Eagle, he said “Show me the scribble first, then after my approval you could work on the canvas with the oil colors”. That’s precisely what prompted me to do the above scribble.

Nicholas Sparks Plays Your Emotions Like a Harp.

One of my friends gifted me the book, “A walk to remember”. Honestly, I am extremely fastidious when it comes to reading. Unless I am sure the book is interesting and the author is quite famous, I don’t feel the urge to touch the book. That’s because in the past, I have splurged away valuable time reading books that weren’t interesting or educating in any angle. The fear of being taken again for a ride still looms large in my head.

But when I read the blurb on the paperback, all things changed. It’s on the blurb that I discovered Nicholas Sparks was the one who wrote the books like Notebook, Rescue and The Bend in the Road. All of these books, I understand, are outstanding in their own league. When I realized this truth, the courage to spend time with the book, “A Walk to Remember” returned and I was left reading the book which later played on my emotions, literally.

If you thought Erich Segal’s Love Story was ultimate, wait till you read Nicholas Sparks ’ A Walk to Remember. It’s the storyline that suddenly disappears in the middle; you and the protagonist in the story really don’t know what to do till the end. You become as helpless as the hero, or as helpless as the heroine. Whatever, you remain literally helpless all through the book.

The story is so heart-tugging that with tears flowing down and soaking the tainted brownish papers of the book and emotions running amok, the only hope you could look to is – the author’s mercy.

So, next time you are close to a book shop and feel the urge to shop for a book, make sure its Nicholas Sparks' book. With his books there may not be much excitement but you'll never runout on emotional narratives.

Angels and Demons – A Fabulous Piece of Writing!

Angels and Demons probably is the second book of Dan Brown I have read so far. The first book, De Vinci Code, which had created a sort of a furor in the Christendom, was nothing less than a genius’ writings. No doubt, it bordered on some indecent themes involving Christian belief, but still the author’s ingenuity and his ability to fabricate a story that is a labyrinth of complexities is truly commendable.

After reading these two books, I could only marvel at Dan Brown’s ability to seamlessly merge the visible with the invisible, the factual with the imaginary, and the heavenly with the carnal. If ever I have to score him on a scale of ten, I would give him a perfect 10. His stories, which are mostly fictional, are woven into reality with such dexterity that often the slim dividing line between the real and the unreal seems missing.

Zooming in on the Angels and Demons, it has a plot that is gripping and action that’s racy. The story is of Robert Langdon, a symblogist from Harvard, who is drawn into a controversial occurrence at CERN laboratories, which is a hub of intellectuals. Here, Leonardo Vetra, a physicist of CERN, is found murdered with his chest seared with an ambigram by a long-forgotten group called illuminati. Later, Illuminati asserts responsibility for his killing and the kidnapping of four cardinals who come to Rome to be elected as the next pope after the mysterious death of the pope.

Not stopping with the kidnapping, Illuminati also issues an ultimatum that with each passing hour it would kill a cardinal. After the fourth cardinal is killed, Illuminati plans to reduce the Vatican City to rubble with its secret weapon “anti-matter” (which is more potent than the atomic bomb) which is planted at the core of the Vatican City. With time elapsing and the danger closing in on…and with only a few cryptic clues as leads, Robert Langdon’s chase against time and the deadly enemies of church is an amazing read. In short, Angels and Demons is spellbinding!

Currently, I am halfway through Dan Brown’s Digital Fortress and find it as exciting as his earlier books. I wonder why I haven’t read this author before.

A Serious Threat to M.F. Hussain

If looks had had the power to kill, I would have been dead long ago. Courtesy: Angelina Jolie ;)

Mauled by The White Tiger

Arvinda Adiga must be lustily basking in the aftermath of his success as the winner of this year’s booker prize. A feat, not everyone of his age would hope of, leave alone achieving it. Even though he has made his mark with his book, The White Tiger -- his writing style pales in comparison with the other Indian writers who won the same prestigious prize earlier.

Arundhati Roy the author of, “The God of small things”, who won the 1997 booker prize, is leaps and bounds ahead of Adiga with her shrewd imagination and riveting writing skill. Her English is simply impeccable and most of her writings reflect an IQ that probably crossed the 250 mark.

Salman Rushdie, the 1981 booker prize winner and also the booker of bookers’ prize winner, is undoubtedly one of the amazing writers of the century. His style is silky and subtle just like expensive wine that tastefully lingers on your tongue before sinking into the pits of the stomach.

Amitav Ghosh, who incidentally was a strong contender of the 2008 booker prize, writes a lot better than Adiga. His book, The Hungry Tide, the story of which is mostly set in the captivating and mysterious islands of Sunderbans, is worth a read.

Finally, talking about Adiga’s writing skills in relation to his other Indian counterparts, he lacks on several fronts. First, there’s no easy flow of the language, his sentences are like as if somebody had mutilated a body and then pieced it together. You could easily make out the marks, stitches and the ugly protrudings. Secound, he talks about an India that is literally non-existent. Imagine landlords having bonded labour in current days. Of course, there might be some scattered incidents here and there, but definitely not in the way Adiga describes. Third, the book details on squalor and filth. Paying very little attention to the other advancements India is known for like breakthroughs in Telecommunications, Information Technology, Rocket Science, Bio-Technology, Nano-technology, Pharmacy and more.

One reason why Adiga must have won the booker prize is that the judges, majority of who are from western countries, probably liked his intense hatred for India which is very well reflected in his writing. How else would a book like The White Tiger win a Booker Prize?

In The Tracks of R.K Narayan

The artist in me said, "Yes!" The soul stirred. The body obliged. The mind raced. The result...Calvin and Hobbes caught in their true colours!

Fountainhead- A Book That Remains Timeless

Howard Roark laughed.

That’s how the story of Ayn Rand’s book, Fountainhead begins. This book is like an invisible quagmire. First, looking at the sheer thickness of this volume, you would dread to read it. But once, you start, you are slowly enticed and drawn deeper. And there will come a time when you would want to stop but you won’t feel like doing it, because the story is a heady mix of acts of perfection against acts of mediocrity, triumph of truth over deception, and an indiscernible fight of the sensible against the senseless.

This book stands a constant reminder, to those whose goals are set bigger and higher, not to ever give up on their fight. Howard Roark’s character sparkles as a man of uncanny intellect and uncompromising standards. A man whose architectural abilities are so original and competent, that others fear his stay in the mainstream architecture a threat to their mediocre work. Amidst deceit, treachery, contemptuousness, Howard Roark, with his uncorrupt moral work values, rises from pits to glory like the phoenix from the ashes.

Moreover Ayn Rand’s portrayal of the characters in the book like Peter Keating, Ellsworth thoohey, Gail Wyand and others are depicted with such clarity, you could subconsciously pick out characteristics of these individuals among people you talk to. You could be saying to yourself. Hey! This guy is like Keating. Here’s a Thoohey. There goes a Wyand. It’s simply amazing as to how Ayn Rand has woven this intriguing story which is so profound.

Although the book was written more than 50 years ago yet the sheen of the story or the tendencies of the characters are unbound by time. Honestly, if I were to live my complete life and write a book like Fountainhead I would consider my life truly worth living.