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| Happy Kumar |
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| 14th November 2007 |
There's nothing worse than loving your job says a clever commercial for a job portal. In this ad film we meet Happy Kumar. Happy signifies his contentment by going through his morning routine with an imbecilic expression on his face. His taxi driver looks a little zoned out, the liftman appears resigned. The paper boy (do those exist?) is fairly miserable in his streetbound job. But Happy is unaffected, not just by the various postings for great opportunities that appear in all kinds of places, but also by the fact that these other people around him are not particularly contented in their work. It's as if he bears them a responsibility. "How can you, Happy Kumar, capable of rising to the top, disappoint me taxiwallah/liftman/paper boy - incapable of moving up in life - by ignoring your opportunity to rise," they seem to say.
It's an interesting twist on the old middle-class parental tactic of getting your children to be ambitious by scaring them that they will end up nowhere if they are not. But there's something more here. The idea that contentment is for morons. The feeling that happiness is stagnation.
Absent in the ad but implied is Neurotic Kumar. He jumps from one job to the other just because it promises him a "foreign" posting or a slightly higher salary. He gets frazzled if the taxi door doesn't open. He wakes up unhappy and stressed because he hates his job, and, by extension, his life. And he never never smiles. He is, we are made to understand, the ideal white collar worker.
Are you Neurotic? |
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| Scene from a Puja pandal |
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| 19th October 2007 |
I stepped away for a drink of water while the indomitable MC pestered the guitarist and the singer to return to the stage for the second encore. Instead of going back to my seat I just stood at the back as the guitarist started playing an alaap of some sort on his guitar. Three boys in the front stood up, and I thought that the second encore was being proved to be a wrong decision. Then some other people stood up and I realized that the first three had not moved. Then more and more people stood up, as the alaap wound it's way forward. And I am still thinking that maybe they've liked the show so much, they're standing for the finale. But when some really old people stood up, that explanation began to seem less plausible. Then one particular note was struck and I realized what was going on: the national anthem. A still solemness filled the pandal. The scene of noisy public religiosity played host to a scene of silent public patriotism.
I was beginning to formulate the stirring yet quiet sentences with which I would describe this scene later when the song ended and one guy standing somewhere near the front shouted "Chak de, India." |
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| The great indian book tour part three |
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| 9th October 2007 |
Kolkata was a disaster. Not the food, that was excellent. Not the grillworked facades or the colonial architecture, those were charming. The event was a disaster.
It was easily the best of the four events I have done outside Delhi. The singer-songwriter, filmmaker, actor, filmmaker Anjan Dutt was the chief guest. And although he had not finished reading the book, he had made an emotional connection with it. He talked about how his own career had developed because rock music had attracted him when he was growing up in a boarding school in the hills. And how the journey that began by playing guitar had taken him to many different places. It was touching to hear him make the connection between the struggles the book's characters go through and his own formative experiences. And he read from the book himself, getting into the cadence of the dialogue. In a small effort to pay him back I told him, and the audience, about the time I had played drums on Ranjana at a desi music show at UC Irvine.
The audience was small but lively. They asked me again and again about my plans for translating the book into Bangla. I didn't have any plans at the time. I have some now. They asked me about whether I felt that as a writer I should also be a social activist. I was struggling to explain that I felt that my book does contain a critique of the world we live in and that I felt that as a writer that was how I could contribute. Anjan Dutt came in forcefully in my defence and said that earlier he felt that marching in the streets was necessary, but now he felt that an artist's primary contribution is through art. Later when I told him that I appreciated he had said so, he sheepishly admitted that he was on his way to meeting in support of the struggle for justice for Rizwanur Rehman,
Another nice thing was that I got to meet Rimi Chatterjee who wrote this very intelligent review of Above Average.
So why was Kolkata a disaster? None of the papers had carried notice of the event, so very few people came. I gave one interview, as opposed to the four or five at all the other places. Neither the bookstore nor my publishers did the kind of preparatory publicity or media outreach they should have. A lot of time, effort and money was spent (a good fraction of all three were mine) and in the end it was largely wasted.
So, here it is, the life of a first time author in India. And if this is how it goes when your book has sold almost 15,000 copies and been called a bestseller by all and sundry, imagine how it must be for those writers who work years to put out a few hundred pages only to see them sink without a trace. On the other hand, if you're a big name then everyone is falling over themselves to give you the best possible stage and ensure the best possible audience and the most comprehensive media coverage possible. |
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| Attuned |
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| 18th August 2007 |
A writer sufficiently attuned to an idea can find all the materials required for its fulfillment lying around in the street.
says Luc Sante in his article on the single-scroll manuscript of Kerouac's On the road. An interesting thing to say, easily contradicted by the vast numbers of writers who go about painstaking research, sometimes lasting years, to ensure that their novel is accurate.
Perhaps, to soften Sante's blow, it is better to say that a writer not attuned to an idea cannot fill the gap with research. And there are writers I have read who have put out novels full of so much research that the idea, and the feeling, that they must have begun with has been obliterated.
Above Average required almost no research. All the factual elements marshalled for it came straight out of memory. As a result I made some mistakes (there's a mistranslation of a Ghalib ghazal in there somewhere), and ended up feeling a little unprofessional, while also realizing that the lack of external inputs somehow helped make this book a direct and heartfelt work. This is not to say that I feel this is how books should be written. Nor is to say that my next book will be written in this way. It's just that this conundrum - research for writing, or write what comes from within - makes itself known in a world where books are commodities, and being willful as a writer might mean leaving the customer unsatisfied.
Is writing fiction inherently a professional activity the way reading the news or being a flight attendant is a professional activity? Every job draws on the individuality of the individual, but writers often claim uniqueness of expression in a way that flight attendants probably do not. While I try to figure that out I should probably stop blogging and get back to reading the books I need to read for my next novel. |
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| The great Indian book tour part two |
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| 16th July 2007 |
- In Hyderabad a book reading does not have to feature a model or an actress to make it to page three.
- Despite their desperation for page three stories, photographers and city supplement editors in Hyderabad remain discerning. My face was absent from the two page three stories that appeared.
- The Andhra Jyothy covered the reading. The first news item about me in a language I can't read or understand.
- Taking advantage of the fact that I can't read or understand Telegu, the Andhra Jyothy writer quoted me as saying that I appreciate the fact that Hyderabadis respect their fellow human beings. Not that I don't think so.
- After more than ten years I spent a couple of nights in a boy's hostel.
- There was an attached bathroom with a complimentary towel in the room. This made the experience somewhat different from the decade old one I was trying to compare it with.
- Palatial houses in Hyderabad are more palatial than palatial houses in Delhi.
- Sridala Swami calls it Gult Gothic.
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| Being Raju Shrivastav |
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| 5th July 2007 |
I've always wanted to be a halwai. And not the owner who sits behind the counter snapping a dirty rag at flies (although that's cool too) but the guy with the big stomach and the dirty vest who sits at the big kadhai with a huge karchhi in hand, deep frying. He doesn't squiggle his own jalebis or strain out his own boondi or dunk his own samosas, he has a helper for that. He monitors brownness, he drains excess oil. He is the king of the hot-oil-splash, the most important link in a crunchy chain. But although these jobs proliferate no professional college teaches it.
Till I was six I wanted to be a fighter pilot. Then Sanjay Gandhi died.
When I was younger I wanted to be Prime Minister. But after I had read Yes Minister for the fourth time I got horribly depressed and realized that political office was not for me.
There was even the time when I daydreamed about inventing a wood substitute that would make me rich and save the trees of the world (though not necessarily in that order.)
None of these things have happened but what did happen was that Madhur, on his blog, compared me to Raju Shrivastav. Favourably. Finally, someone understands. |
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| Give me a meow |
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| 5th June 2007 |
Here's number one on the top ten sentences I did not expect anyone to say to me: Come on Amitabha, give me a meow.
Yesterday I found myself in the studios of Meow 104.8, India's first fm station dedicated to women. And also mainly staffed by women, I learned. While I waited my turn, I was treated to an enthusiastic discussion on whether men were better drivers or women. Answer: women. Later the host, Ginny, asked me on air if I thought men were better drivers or women. There are times when "depends on what you mean by better" is not a good answer.
I appeared on a one hour show around books and authors. "We had Tushar Raheja last week." This was supposed to be an inducement.
Near the end of the show we got a call from Sakshi. She sounded 15 to me and 18 to Ginny. So I am guessing she must be 18. Her brother's copy of Above Average had found it's way to her and she was reading it. She had read about half and the protagonist was just like her brother. And she wanted to know why he was like that. "Men are weird, aren't they Sakshi?" asked Ginny. "Yes, men are weird," came the reply. So I found myself, quite unexpectedly, having to defend men against the charge of weirdness. I was fumbling with that task when Sakshi adds "Men are from Mars." That was a little easier to refute. "Sakshi," I said. "There's no recorded evidence of life on Mars. They found some ice or something, but no life."
On the car radio on the way back home the discussion on the subject "women are better drivers than men" was in full flow.
"I fully agree with whatever you are saying. Women are much better drivers than men."
"That's great. Do you drive?"
"No."
Absolutely unrelated: In fulfillment of the blogdharma that I have severely neglected since I started blogging here's a link to a video of Amadou and Mariam playing live in Argentina. The song is Toubala Kono from Sou Ni Tile and the guitar solo near the end is quite something. |
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| The great Indian book tour part one |
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| 30th May 2007 |
- They're both the same height, about five feet four. They walk up to me in Crossword, Kemp's Corner, Mumbai. "I got my MSc from IIT," he says. "Now I'm going to do my Phd from TIFR." "We're going to read your book together," she says. I sign both their copies. It might be cheaper, and more romantic if they bought only one copy. I decide not to point this out.
- The alphonso season is in full cry in Mumbai.
- On the way back to Bandra from Kemp's corner, Koshy and I catch up on the last ten years. He asks me where my classmates are and tells me where his classmates are, prefacing each name with a "I don't think you'll remember him." He is from my hostel at IIT, my junior by three years. Seniors are allowed to forget juniors.
- A fair and thin girl comes in to the Mumbai reading and sits in the back row. She looks bored throughout but stays till the end. Every so often while I'm reading I check to see if the boredom is still there. It is. But occasionally her neck arches up a little. I'm taking that as a good sign.
- At the Bangalore reading there's a lady who is the queen of follow-up questions. The q&a session is in danger of becoming a conversation between the two of us. Her questions slip out of my memory in no time. What remains is her coming up to me later and saying "I work for a portal called webdunia.com. Do you want to advertize on it?"
- A reporter in Bangalore asks me: What do you think about literature? I realize I don't think about literature enough to be able to answer such a specific question.
- Bangalore is so cool at the end of May that you need to switch on the geyser for each bath. Bangalore is also cool in less literal ways.
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| Ranting against critics and a story about a Korean filmmaker |
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| 10th May 2007 |
Every writer rants against critics sooner or later. The screed comes up the throat like a belch, somewhat anticipated, surprising in its intensity. Some welcome this upsurge and give vent to it. For those fellow writers who would rather not, and to others, let me tell a story.
It was a few years ago, I was living in California at the time and had nothing to do after work. So when I heard there was going to be a festival of Korean films right there at the University I decided to attend.
They were showing four films by Hong Sangsoo. He had just finished the fourth one, Turning Gate and this was one of the first screenings of that film in North America. They prepped us by showing his first three at the rate of one a week. Anyone who has seen The Day a Pig Fell Into the Well, The Power of Kangwon Province and Virgin Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, will - I can guarantee this - be more than eager to show up in week four to meet the maker of these sensitive, cerebral and heartfelt films and watch his latest.
Turning Gate was brilliant. Afterwards in the question answer session I asked Hong Sangsoo about his use of a perfectly still camera in The Power of Kangwon Province. ``Is there some significance to this? I've noticed each film has some technical choice or the other which runs through it. How do you decide what goes where?''
``Whatever feels like the right thing for that one,'' he said. ``Just what fits.''
I felt snubbed. It sounded evasive, a non-answer.
Perhaps I expected something on the lines of Mani Kaul talking after a screening of Siddheshwari in Delhi, explaining at length the structure of improvisation in hindustani classical music and the connection between the structure of his film and hindustani classical music. I still remember a couple of frames of Siddheshwari but more than anything what I remember of that evening was that I came away thinking that Mani Kaul was impressively intelligent.
The session proceeded with Hong Sangsoo deadpanning similar short answers to all comers. Finally one person, an older white-haired white person asked him: ``Who are your influences?''
``Godard, Truffaut, Vigo,'' said Sangsoo, following those up with some more French-sounding names.
``What about the great Asian masters?'' asked the questioner. ``What about Kurosawa? What about Ozu?''
``I love Ozu,'' said Sangsoo.
Later everyone went for drinks. There was a crowd around Sangsoo so I couldn't get to speak to him but after a while it was time for me to leave so I went to say goodbye to him and to tell him that I had enjoyed his four films very much.
``I liked your question very much,'' he said when he saw me. Reflecting on this later I realized that his answer to my question had not been a snub at all. Questions were sometimes their own answer.
But all that reflection came later. At that moment I felt elated that Hong Sangsoo thought my question was good.
``Why did that man insist on bring up the Asian masters?'' I said, ``Just because you're Asian doesn't mean your influences must be Asian.''
``That's okay,'' said Sangsoo, smiling lightly. ``He has some favourites, he was asking about them.''
I walked away thinking that attending the Korean film festival had been a good idea.
For a more comprehensive view on the Hong Sangsoo retrospective held at the University of California, Irvine, in October 2002 click here. |
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| Reading in Gurgaon |
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| 1st May 2007 |
Last Monday I crossed the border into Gurgaon. Amit Sikka relates what transpired next (excerpted with permission from an email he sent to some colleagues).
Lutf hai kaun si kahani main,
aap beeti kahun ya jag beeti
What a beautiful verse, I had almost lost touch with poetry and books for past few months when suddenly I got to know about a book reading event where an emerging writer Amitabha Bagchi was expected to be amongst us to narrate his beautiful journey of writing his first book "Above Average" and that's where it happened. He started his talk with this beautiful verse and categorized whole world of story telling into three category viz. aapbeeti, jag beeti and what all lies in between.
Let me start from the beginning. On occasion of international book day on 23rd April Corporate communication at Aricent hosted an interactive session with an emerging author Amitabha Bagchi. As a book lover I was delighted over that and went straight to plot -16 to be a part of that meeting. His first look was a little disappointing.I felt like he is quite a serious person with a typical IIT professor attitude but once he started talking to us he sounded quite frank and full of humor.
He had a wonderful knowledge about different languages and seemed to be quite fond of Urdu and Hindi as well apart from English. He started of with some Urdu poetry and then talked few books that had really inspired him. Few of them I had also read and those books were really great and they do leave an impact over you. Like " The adventure of Rusty", Shadow lines, Outside lies magic, Raag-Darbaari, ghazals by Bashir badr, Umrao-Jaan Ada. then he finally landed over to his own book and narrated few incidents. Book sounded to be good.
He was quite fond of Amitav Ghosh and had quite an intimacy with him. So most of the time he talked about his books, his way of writing and the chemistry two of them share. He did gave lot many tips on "How to become a successful writer". Well I don't know how many of us can take that road but his speech about that was really inspiring.
One discussion was quite funny. Somebody asked him what he thinks of Chetan Bhagat. Chetan Bhagat was his class mate and kind of a competitor so he tried hard not to comment anything about him but audience were not willing to give up so finally he said what else i can say . You guys are really putting me in a embarrassing situation. Then he told what he went through when he got to know that Chetan is planning to write a book on almost same theme.
Anyway I enjoyed this talk a lot and it was really a talk to remember.
I wish all the best to Amitabha Bagchi
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