A drink and a heartbreak later...

A drink and a heartbreak later, you begin to wonder if life was just incidental to living. Even if it was, it has to be lived. There are things to look forward to and people to run away from. Every high has to be cheered for and every fall has to be lamented. Happiness is not just over-rated, it's also overpriced. We all have our Godots to wait for. They turn their faces when they see us, only to return when they aren't needed any more. The tragic farce is that you live your life but that life never lives in you.

A bit of Neruda

Nothing beats Pablo Neruda. Of many of his poems that I have read, this one's my personal favourite.

Thinking, Tangling Shadows

Thinking, tangling shadows in the deep solitude.
You are far away too, oh farther than anyone.
Thinking, freeing birds, dissolving images,
buying lamps.

Belfry of fogs, how far away, up there!
Stifling laments, miling shadowy hopes,
taciturn miller,
night falls on you face downward, far from the city!

Your presence is foreign, as strange to me as a thing.
I think, I explore great tr5acts of my life before you.
My life before anyone, my harsh life.
The shout facing the sea, among the rocks,
running free, mad, in the sea-spray.
The sad rage, the shout, the solitude of the sea.
Headlong, violent, stretched towards the sky.

You, woman, what were you there, what ray, what vane
of that immense fan? You were as far as you are now.
Fire in the forest! Burn in blue crosses.
Burn, burn, flame up, sparkle in trees of light.

It collapses, crackling. Fire. Fire.
And my soul dances, seared with curls of fire.
Who calls? What silence peopled with echoes?

Hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude,
hour that is mi9ne from among them all!
Hunting horn through which the wind passes singing.
Such a passion of weeping tied to my body.

Shaking of all the roots,
attack of all the waves!
My soul wandered, happy, sad, unending.

Who are you, who are you?

(From Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair)

An ode to opium

A man of few words but many languages, Amitav Ghosh traces his journey as an author with Anamika Chatterjee

Sitting cosy in his suite at Taj Mahal Hotel, author Amitav Ghosh sips his coffee and reminisces about the good old days. “I can see The Claridges from here. That's where I had my first book party. Those days I had a motorcycle and I remember parking it outside. The magic that happens with the launch of your first book never comes back." Cut to present, Ghosh is out with his tenth book, Sea of Poppies, that delves on the issue of opium trade in colonial India of 1830s. “After Glass Palace, I wanted to write another inter-generational book and I started thinking about it in 2004 when The Hungry Tide came out.”
Often regarded as an author who's quite generous with descriptions, one is compelled to wonder if writing a trilogy offers him more liberties. A notorious laughter follows as he explains, "While writing a book you can keep changing some things towards the end or the beginning. But in a trilogy, you have to keep your options open. Moreover, Sea of Poppies was the foundation of the trilogy. It had to be solid and secure." The author admits that he would have loved to cover at least 30 -40 years in the trilogy but then “500 pages later and I have covered just 8 months. I know there are readers who just like to go from point A to point B, but such a reader should not pick up my book.”
This book also set Ghosh his toughest test as researcher, as he “never had such a wide range of characters from different backgrounds”. But what about the British ones that have according to many reviews been “stereotyped”. The Observer review, in fact calls it a "clever parable for British colonialism". On a rather defensive note, he points out, "By the end of the book, everyone is a villain. It'd be ridiculous to put in some goody goody Englishmen. My book is about drug smugglers, convicts and transporters. I am certainly not going to go out of my way to create good English schoolteachers because clearly it isn't a book about them."
Striking a balance between history and fiction is not an easy task, not even for this “master storyteller”. He offers the metaphor of clay to explain his position as an author. "History is just like clay. We have to respect its unyielding nature. A writer's job is pretty much like a potter's. He gives a shape to the clay by using his imagination."
Ghosh whose first book, The Circle of Reason, came out in 1986 feels it is much easier for a writer to get published now. "When I started out, there was just one publisher in Delhi, and I think he used to publish business books only. By then my first book had been accepted in England, and I desperately wanted to get published in India. So in desperation, I went to his office with my manuscript and knocked the door. The chapraasi opened the door and let me in. He saw my manuscript and asked, "Yeh kya hai' and I said, 'Saab, yeh ek novel hai' and to this the chapraasi said, "Novel… nikal jaao."
Ghosh also has his share of favourites when it comes to Indian writing in English. “I enjoyed reading Above Average by Amitabh Bagchi. I am told Indrajit Hazra's The Bioscope Man and Tabish Khair's latest are interesting.” Even though the author thinks that Indian writing in English has been accepted worldwide, he admits that it is at the risk of stereotyping several themes and characters. "If I see the word, 'arranged marriage' in the blurb or at the back of the book, it annoys me. But stereotyping is happening everywhere. When we pick up an American novel, we tend to expect themes like gangland warfare or the mafia.”
Even as there is a buzz that The Hungry Tide will soon be made into a film, the author wants his involvement in the project to be "minimal". “Filmmaking is a distinctive art. I tried it after I wrote The Shadow Lines, in 1989. Mira Nair who is an old friend wanted to make Mississippi Masala and I was to do the screenplay. Mira, her husband and I actually drove down to deep southern America and had a good look at the Gujarati motels for our background research. But gradually I realised that it wasn't my cup of tea." But Ghosh also reveals that The Hungry Tide is an option right now by a Bengali director, Suman Mukhopadhyay who has been working on it for some time.
An adaptation works best "when a filmmaker completely reimagines the book", so believes the author. "I know the writers of several books that were made into films by Satyajit Ray and none of them were happy with the films. I told them that the films were much better than the books."
Married to writer Deborah Baker, Ghosh is also a father of two children, who have never read any of his books. “ I am actually grateful that they haven't read my works. You know when you are young and writing novels, you have to tell yourself that your mother might just read your book, and when you grow old, you keep your children in mind while reading the book, because there are things in the book they shouldn't be reading about. So I am actually grateful that they don't."
Confessing that he’s rather self-indulgent, Ghosh says, “I write for myself and my circle of friends. Sometimes when people open my book and read, I actually wonder if this would make sense to anyone. I guess that's something that only your editors and publishers can tell From Circle of Reason to Sea of Poppies, the author has indeed come a long way, but he doesn’t seem to think so. "My friend, Mukul Kesavan says that I have moved back to The Circle of Reason. The prospect of spending 10-15 years with these characters has been deeply pleasurable. In a way my friends have seen my life change and I have seen theirs changing too.” He also admits that solitude is quintessential to writing. “Months go by and I see no one but my wife and my kids. Sometimes I come out of my house and wonder why there are so many people here. Your book becomes your only reality then. It is important also because if your book does not become your reality, then it won't work." Well, considering the writer is aiming for a hattrick this time, it seems more solitude awaits him!

Casting a literary spell

His latest indulgence as an author has yielded yet another bestseller (read Brida). Paulo Coelho shares his success story with Anamika Chatterjee in this e-mail interview.

Themes like spirituality and mysticism are recurrent in most of your works. How do you rate Brida?
When I start a new book, I approach myself from a different angle. In The Alchemist, for example, I was trying to explain what writing meant to me. The way I found to do this was through a metaphor. In Brida, I explore the life of a woman who dives into sorcery and experiments with different magical traditions. Through her life and character, I explore many themes that are dear to me, such as The Great Mother, pagan religions and the different perceptions of love.
All stories, characters bare the seal of my personality, but each has its own path, its own identity. It’s only by living intensively that I’m able to gather enough experiences, emotions, that later on guide me when I decide to write.

Your books are said to have “changed the lives of many”.
Readers are always very inventive. I remember once an Indian reader sent me a letter saying that she had offered one of my books to the Ganges. I thought this was such a poetic and beautiful thing to do.

Brida was written in 1990. Why is it that it came out for publication after almost two decades?
When I wrote this book, ideas such as the feminine face of
God were still alien to most people, but now, I see a shift in perception — people are more open now to the intuitive perception of the world and are less easily seduced by the fixed rules of the society. And that’s why I came out with Brida in its first English translation. I think her time has come.

Would you say that there’s a certain formula for a bestseller?
I don’t have a ready-made formula to apply when I embark on a new book, but I’m always controlled by my discipline, compassion and a sincere eagerness to understand myself.

Any message for Indian readers. I think the best advice is always to not follow any advice. Try life by yourself. Freedom is people making their decisions by themselves, not giving it away for a guru to answer and decide for them.

Condemned to remember

I beg, cry and pray for freedom,

Hoping you will grant it to me some day

But at times my vision blurs

And I cross the line in a haze!

A blasphemous silence is all you have,

A gift you offer me every day,

I have accepted it graciously

Knowing that I won't ever find that ray!

Sunset has become more beautiful than ever

For it reminds me of a speechless you,

That moonlit night, that starry sky
All they offer are countless memories of you!

An ocean of happiness is what I hide

It makes me weak, but often strong

The memories will die their own death

and I shall know I was always wrong!

That road we walked on still bears our footprints,

That palace of dreams still echoes our laughter

So what if you didn't hold my hand,

I always knew there wouldn't be a 'happily ever after'!

Kol katha

Going back to a city after more than a decade can be extremely depressing. My recent visit to Kolkata just goes on to prove that only too well. Last time I visited Cal, as most in my family love to address it, was when I was 12 years of age and completely doted on small bribes like the Bijoli Grill ice cream soda, daanedar mishti , the human rickshaw.... and the list is endless. While packing my bags I had hoped to be in the same old Cal, but alas! The city has changed a lot in these years, and if the residents are to be believed, things have changed only for the better. Malls and multiplex invasion have paved way for the formation of a clan that I'd personally call Kolkata GenNow. These aren't your regular youngsters in denims and Nike t-shirts. This is a bunch that has a cigarette placed perpetually in their hands (smoking is just incidental here), prefer a loose tee with a worn out jeans and most importantly, is all set to criticise anything that's remotely Delhi. To see this kind of a crowd in the malls was rather unexpected, but when some of them happen to be your friends, you can't do much about it except for listening patiently.

For these youngsters, Delhi isn't a place-to-bge primarily because it has no culture. And why not? "People there behave as if they have come from savage lands." "They can't even respect women or the elderly. There's just no safety." "The feeling of belonging among Delhi-ites is missing. It could be because most of them are migrants." My rather politically correct answer was " If you can live in Delhi, you can live anywhere."

After encountering the abhorrence for Del;hi, my next tryst with a rather unusual complain was how come being 23, I was comfortably single. My cousin's argument was 'Make full use of your freedom as a financially independent woman." Her views were echoed by some aunts , even though the uncles stayed out of the matter. Little did the women realise that by forcing a freedom on me she was, in fact, limiting the notion of freedom most of us have young women. Her reasons... "In Kolkata, women start dating as and when they join college." I giggled for a while thinking that in most parts of the country the progression takes place rather early. I presume that's the reason I was taken to the malls even though I pleaded to go to places like New Market, Digha and Gariahat.

After the isms were thoroughly analysed in our chatting sessions, it was time to pay a visit to the Ganges. If there's a singularly most divine thing that a human beiong could do, is to try boating in the Outrum Ghats. As you look around, you feel you are floating in the water.... you reach a point where you are somewhat closer to redemption. This singular indulgence atones for all the isms that are imposed on you for being a Delhi-ite.

As she liked it

Accompanying a friend in love for shopping is almost like playing Shakespeare's archetypal court fool...someone like Touchstone (in As You Like It). There is something very comical about spending hours accompanying a woman whose very purpose of existence for that very day is buying a 'wallet' for a 'friend' who, of course, has been promoted from that level to being a potential lover. Sadly you know you are not a part of this 'reality', but yet you embark on the Odyssean journey of finding that precious little gift.

This Sunday evening, I played a Touchstone to an old friend who was on a similar trip. Our search, rather hers, for that peeeeeeerfect wallet made us walk through the dinghy inner circle, in CP, twice. I could see the shine in her eyes as she was looking for that wallet. She picked one, but threw it aside after the size of the wallet disappointed her. She wanted the size to be bigger than regular wallets. Traditional wisdom suggests that a large wallet helps keep men more money. The lady's explanation was quite simple. "If he can't fill this wallet up, I shall know that he's not worthy of my love." Not that I believe in the money-is-not-everything dictum, but the fact that she said this was a reason enough for me to laugh at the whole exercise. A gift had to be given to the guy, and the gift had to be a wallet, and the wallet was expected to0 be full in all days, all the time. And finally, she laid her hands on a reasonably decent wallet and spent Rs 1,000 on it. (Of course I was lamenting the fact that I'd get a Patrick French and a large chocolate croissant with lemonade at the Oxford Bookstore for that amount). However, I wasn't in for a complete disappintment either. I was treated with a bhutta and a bunta for my services and of course, some tips on how to win a suitable guy in 10 days. By then I at least knew one ... buy him a big wallet.