Mirza Ghalib

Currently I am half way through Salman Rushdie’s Enchantress of Florence. The book is slow-paced but profound. What I like about Rushdie is his extraordinary grasp on the English language. No wonder his writing is laced with smoothness akin to running one’s work-hardened and weather-beaten fingers through finely spun silk. Exquisite!

The book, Enchantress of Florence, opens on our own Mirza Ghalib’s words that have neither lost the charm nor the beauty even after being translated into English. A.S. Kline worked on the translation. Here is the piece that stole my heart.

If there is a knower of tongues here, fetch him; there’s a stranger in the city.
And he has many things to say.

The sphere.

"Congo" was the first movie I ever bunked college to watch. It was a bold move considering that I hadn’t done anything of that kind before. Inside theatre, my eyes were shifty, afraid that someone might locate me! However, I enjoyed the movie. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Shot in the dense African tropical rainforests, it was all about transporting back a friendly Ape to the Congo basin in South Africa and searching for the Solomon’s temple where the promise of discovering diamonds loomed large.

However, what the expedition troop didn’t know was guarding this hidden treasure were apes. Apes trained to ruthlessly kill anyone who comes near the diamonds. The entire movie was gripping and fast-paced. I might have seen the movie like 5 times and over. Not just because it had a wonderful plot but also to watch Laura Linney on whom I had a huge crush then.

But only later I came to know the movie was an adaptation of the book “Congo” by Michael Crichton. My respect for the author swiftly rose. Crichton also authored Jurassic Park and The Lost World, which, we know, were later converted into big-budget movies that kept box-office registers ringing. This in itself is self-explanatory of Crichton’s abilities as a writer with superb imagination.

But his bulky books always dampened my reading spirit. I thought who has time to kill on such voluminous tomes? But the other day, when I read the blurb behind his book, Sphere, I found it very absorbing. I couldn’t stop bringing this book home.

Expectedly, Sphere turned out to be mind-blowing. Hinged around Einstein’s theory of relativity, accentuating on refraction of time, it’s about an alien spaceship that has suddenly showed up on the Pacific Ocean bed. Moreover, the unique mix of metal and plastic alloys on board speaks of a technology that is clearly not of this era.

With control manuals unmistakably scripted in English, it was imperative the spaceship has time-traveled from the future. But the crew on board somehow seems to be missing. What further remains an indecipherable puzzle is the existence of a Sphere on board. No one takes notice of it initially. But when it starts sending hostile messages onto the computer screen, that’s when complete chaos sets in.

The book was phenomenal. Hooked on to it, I didn’t realize it was 3 am and pitchy dark outside when I finally finished reading it.

Michael Crichton sure knows how to keep you glued to the book.

Remember me? Made me remember the author.

When someone I know, after sensing my penchant for reading, handed six books of various, distinguished authors. I was dumbstruck at the generous gesture. But what took me by surprise was I have barely known this individual for two months. Yet, he heartily gave away the books. May his bighearted tribe increase!

“Remember me?” by Sophie kinsella was one among them. When I grasped the blurb’s essence at the back, I realized the book would suffocate me by immersing in an overwhelming tub of emotions. I still can’t really get to the root why women are controlled by and sometimes swept away with emotions. Frankly, I really can’t. And god help me for that! ;)

Nonetheless, I decided to take the emotional trip offered by Kinsella. For one reason, the book sounded unusually different. Secound, it promised an element of mystery that could be unfurled only after spending considerable time. Moreover, the person who donated the book lavished praise on the writer. Naturally, among the six books, my first read began with “Remember me?”

The story opens on the heroine having a faint recollection of a minor accident. Further down the pages, we find the fall had unfortunately blacked out her memory of last 3 years. During which she had actually managed to steadily climb the company’s corporate ladder to become one of its powerful board members, become a yoga and gym-crazy individual, got a dental job done that made her look coy, married an achingly handsome man, and not to say the least, drawn a bulky pay packet.

Unfortunately, she remembers none of these. The complete turmoil that floods her mind at this stage is what the whole story is about. While she is still sorting out her disjointed memory, there steps in another individual with a bombshell. When he drops it, all hell breaks lose for her. Her whole world is suddenly upside down.

Sophie Kinsella scores good points with her compelling book. The thought behind such a solid storyline undoubtedly raises her IQ bar a few notches up. Honestly, how many could really think of stories that are whacky at the same time gripping? After having read "Remember me?", my trust in Kinsella’s narrating skills has sky-rocketed. I am confident that her other books would also be equally intense.

Next time, I am out scouting for books; I’ll ensure her name is infused in memory along with other authors I generally keep my eyes open for. Watch out Kinsella...here I come.

Mango Juice Trickling Through Fingers.

After a long time, I had the opportunity of relishing sliced pieces of a sweet mango. My mom handed them on a plate with a tiny fork. Munching on these, my mind quickly wandered to childhood days.

As kids, we used to fight tooth and nail over a mango seed. That is because the seed almost always contained a larger portion of the mango pulp. This, consequently, stood as a contest. The kid who finally got his hands on the seed had won. Hands down! Hands gooey! When I think back on those days I only smile. Then, there was no fear of being taunted. No fear of getting your hands gooey. No fear of looking silly slurping on a mango seed. Only the delight of eating the mango.

As grown-ups, I find we are suddenly straight jacketed with rules and regimes. We rarely follow our heart. Most often we follow what others think is right. We don’t set trends. In a way, we have lost our own true identity. We have become another cog in the wheel. That’s quite sad.

While I was still munching on the tiny mango pieces a strange thought crossed my mind. I smiled to myself. I yelled to my mom in the kitchen. “Mom, do you still have the mango seed.” As expected the answer was yes.

So, before I could stop him, the kid in me leaped and dashed to the kitchen…

Rules? Who cares!!