'Criti....que not Criti....cize'

Em and The Big Hoom by Jerry Pinto My rating: 5 of 5 stars On a train journey from Kerala to Mumbai, I lay down on the top berth and silently put down my kindle and closed my eyes for some time. The definitions of normal, abnormal, sane, insane, mad crisscrossed in my mind and I mourned the loss of the so-called ‘mad’ people from the world. Who are we to judge them? Who are we to put them into boxes created by our own definitions of normal, desirable and perfect to survive? Darwin’s evolutionary theory and the accompanying phrase ‘survival of the fittest’ suddenly seemed hollow. Fittest? By what means? Thanks to Jerry Pinto’s Em and the Big Hoom, a book I was looking forward to read from a long time now, my mind kept asking me questions to which all I did was to close my eyes and listen. Living with a patient of schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and some other medical conditions has been expansively described. It makes you laugh at times, shed a tear or two at others. But it teaches yo...

What comes to your mind when I say POWER? Not necessarily in caps. Power. Or power.  I was recently asked to write what I would do with 'power' if I had it (writing test for a firm). It put me into thinking mode. What is power? How would I define it? This is what I wrote: Power is a matter of perspective. That one can lift a brush in the morning to clean one’s teeth can be a matter of power for someone who can’t lift a limb. To others, it’s one of the the basic steps undertaken by them before they step out to conquer the world. To each, his own. When I ask myself about ‘power’, I feel like a superwoman – I can make people smile and remind them to count their blessings. It often doesn’t take much. Sometimes, it can be a handwritten letter and at other times, it can be a simple text reminding them that they are remembered, in your own wacky ways. On some days like today, even a bottle of sanitizer can do the trick! Thoroughly cleaning the room of a Covid-positive relative helped ...

Rains? Oh, adrak wali chai (ginger tea) and pakode (fritters) to the rescue! As much as pop culture has glorified that feeling, has anyone felt gloomy with the continuous downpour -- the relentless rainfall, which often takes away homes and roads with it? The gloom descended this morning, thanks to a sunny sky. I felt these smileys today. 🌞☀️ Closer home, what the rains did till yesterday was to not allow clothes to dry, to linger as a smell that refused to budge despite pouring floor cleaning soapy liquid and a copious amount of the liquid that claims to kill 99.9% of germs including the one that is responsible for the Covid- 19 pandemic. While I think of splashing that liquid all over the world via a helicopter, my nose rang an alarm in my brain. Yet again. Ah! That semi-dry, modern version of poncha (wiping stick) was the culprit. While the dream of a fragrant home (with flowers blooming all over for dramatic effect) remained a dream, I had to then fish out agarbathis (incense s...

That's the thing about books. To each his own. Recommendations and reviews work only to a point. I, for one, love to randomly pick up books and read. Here are a few of my favourite underrated books which I feel one must pick up at least once in life: 1. The Small Island by Andrea Levy  Not the usual black vs white terror story but a beautiful, subtle, bittersweet tale of a journey through ups and downs of life. It made me wonder why I got that book for Rs 50 at a Books by Kilo exhibition. She is definitely a magician when it comes to words. For those who prefer short stories more, you may start with Six Stories and an Essay by the same author.   2. Purple Hibiscus  by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, popular for We Should All Be Feminists   Simply for the detailing and the brusque nature of her storytelling. Can't imagine anyone else writing about water scarcity like she did in the book (that's definitely not what the tale is about though). But such is her writing...

The clouds seem to have drifted away to let the sun a little sneak peak into our lives today. Phew! 4 days later. Thank you, Kerala for the weather. Oops. I take back my words for here comes the lashing rains, yet again.  Twice or thrice I checked if my vision was playing tricks upon me in these past few days. Then I realised, it had to do with the tricks of the clouds. I switched on the lights and lo and behold! It was bright all over again. While the rains lash down, I am transported to last night when the soil lay drenched and I sat like a panda under a huge blanket while Malik beckoned. My husband couldn't wait to click on the play button. After a long time, I was excited to see a movie trailer and ever since I did, I eagerly waited for Malik .  And it started. Nimisha & Fahadh -- my heart did a double somersault. Then came the ones who have been part of some remarkable  Malayalam movies since few years now -- Vinay Fortt, Dileesh Pothan, Dinesh Prabhakar, Parvat...

Zikora by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie My rating: 4 of 5 stars Name of the book: Zikora (a short story) Name of the author: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Publisher: Amazon Original Stories, Seattle @amazon Cover design: Kimberly Glyder Number of pages: 34 Probably one of the most hard-hitting stories I read this year, this is another gem from Chimamanda. A short read from Amazon Original Stories, this wouldn't take more than an hour's time to complete. However, be rest assured that its impact will stay for a long time to come. The connection between a mother and her child is such that the world may sometimes find it unable to understand. Sometimes, even the mother and child may find it difficult to understand. But the battles that they overcome often have a tale of their own. Here's one such story. The name Zikora is apparently of Nigerian origin meaning "show the world that my God is good." The photo clicked by yours truly with the cover page of the book beside the flo...

Rain lashes outside the windows Washing away the mud people scurried over a while back Freshly made bed, pillows fluffed up Sprawled upon it a thousand memories, Time ticks away. It was 11.26 just three minutes ago. Or 23.26. Charlatan thoughts they are Fastidious care, theirs. Washing away the hours she scurried over a while back. Time ticks away. Doesn't it, always? The blueprint in the making, Do they go back to it After buildings have fallen, without grace? Time ticks away, like it never cared. Rubble. People. Rubble. Trapped, beyond rescue. Gracefully frozen beneath the din For time ticks away... like it must. Wrapped in six yards of silk, she thought this was it. She walked with a large brass plate towards the altar, Carrying the garlands that would seal the loose ends -- bit by bit. The bridal gait, the overflowing love, some jealous looks -- she now looked at it from afar. Who knew the walk was towards her own end? A bright, young lady walking towards her own doom?  Vismaya...