Amar Chitra Katha Memories

In the early days of my childhood, I depended solely on my mother for my quota of stories. She was the first story teller I knew. Though her knowledge of the epics was limited, she chipped in her own imaginary tales as she serialized the Ramayan while feeding me lunch everyday. My father once read out a piece on Mahatma Gandhi that appeared in the Saudi Gazette and I was introduced to a contemporary figure for the first time. It was during my winter holidays in my second grade that my uncle got me a copy of Amar Chitra Katha’s (ACK) Jataka Tales (The Giant and the Dwarf) and Tinkle. Those were the first books ever gifted to me and I got one of the best companions in my books.

Since then, I made it a point to religiously build my collection of ACK, starting with books like Vali, Surya, Indra and Shachi, Chanakya and most recently, Anant Pai. I recently happened to interview Reena Puri, the current Editor of ACK. As I spoke to her, I could not hold back my excitement while the ACK saga. The interview was about Anant Pai, the master storyteller and its founder, whom we knew better as Uncle Pai.

ACK is not merely a story book for me. ACK is a snapshot of my childhood. I’ve been extremely possessive about my ACK copies and refused to hand them over to my younger cousins or friends. Such has been my fixation with these books that even now I clearly remember the culprits who failed to return the ACK copies borrowed from me during my childhood. I owe my love for History purely to ACK for I discovered an enjoyable way of learning things. Science became fun with Anu Club and I made rapid progress in my English over the years reading those volumes. In fact, I owe my proficiency in the regional languages also to ACK, for I read many of its titles in Malayalam and Hindi. I strongly believe that there is no better way of acquainting the young minds with India’s rich cultural past, without a tinge of jingoism, than introducing them to the world of ACK.

Every time I go home, I pick up a few random copies from my shelf and go through them. Sometimes, the ACK copies look like a snapshot of my childhood, a piece of my past, that has trickled down to the present. I don’t know if it is nostalgia or the stories themselves that work wonders for me. Perhaps ACK still works for me because it follows a rare style of writing which pleases the kids and the grown-ups alike. The illustrations are well researched and are capable of transporting you to a different era. I wonder if our filmmakers could borrow a leaf from ACK on art direction and scripting. Most of the period dramas that have been aired on television have been of late quite forgettable. I have my personal favourites as well like Chanakya, for its pace, crisp dialogues and wel-researched costumes, Malavika, for the breezy manner in which the reader’s mind is treated to the joys and pangs of romance, Draupadi, for a fair portrayal of the greatest of our epic women, all the titles of Birbal for its wit and the entire volume of the Mahabharata which can any day give a tough fight to its counterpart on television for its research, execution and scripting. I’m sure every child who has read ACK has his or her personal favourite among the titles.

Of course the joy of Tinkle is a story in itself. Was any train journey complete without a copy of the Tinkle sold at the railway platforms? Tantri the MAntri, Shikari Shanbhu, Kapeesh, Ramu, Shamu, Little Raji, Pyarelal and Suppandi have become a part of our collective memories.

The recent issue on Uncle Pai is a warm and enjoyable work. It brought me closer to the person who touched my life and many others' lives so deeply that people belonging to my generation owe a sense of nationalistic pride and thinking to the stories he brought alive in those umpteen volumes, each running into 32-pages. If nothing, it is the story of a man who walked alone with nothing but an enterprising spirit to build an empire in the world of comics

Random Ruminations

Sonia Gandhi wept on seeing the photos of the Batla House encounter, if we are to believe the statement of the Law Minister Salman Khursheed. How sad for Her Highness Madame Sonia to have shed tears for the hapless men, outrageously labeled as terrorists, by our devilish police force. The act of our policemen can put the villainous policemen of the cheap Hindi flicks of 1980s to shame. So many deaths have paralysed this nation. There were hundreds of deaths as terror struck the Mumbai local trains, the temples of Varanasi, the Ajmer Dargah, umpteen crowded markets on festive occasions and of course, the 26/11 killings at the Taj. Khursheed did not mention any of them. The perpetrators of these acts have either not been caught or are having a jolly good time in our prisons. But our nation is run by those who shed tears for the terrorists rather than the terrorized. Digvijay Singh, the upholder of the dynasty dharma soon chipped in to rescue saying Madam never cried. Meanwhile, Madam never spoke.

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Robert Vadara has suddenly emerged as a new player in the national politics. Astride on his bike, his comments were capable of inspiring the script writers of political dramas. He has signaled his political ambitions and his children are now being sashayed around with pride. The sixth generation of the Gandhis has been launched during the UP elections and the tiny tots are getting used to being garlanded and are waving joyously at boisterous rallies. Indians, who grow up on stories of rajas, ranis, rajkumars and rajkumaris, quite like to see some in real life too. The Gandhis are only eager to oblige. Very soon we will find Barkha Dutt interviewing the kids, who might ascend the throne of India two decades from now.

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Vijay Mallaya wants the help of the government and the public sector banks in helping his Kingfisher fly again. The airline was launched with much noise and fanfare, when Mallaya thought of redefining luxury for Indians. But reality clipped the flight of his dreams and the airline was pushed to the abysses of a budget airline. We didn’t complain when he blew up fortunes on panache and style as he positioned himself as India’s answer to Richard Branson, with private jets, islands and yes, plenty of girls. But sadly for him, style and glamour alone were not enough to run airlines. The Kingfisher’s wings have been clipped by its own master. Its staff has not been paid for the past few months. Now he wants the tax-paying public to pay for his stupidities. Hail capitalism to plunder wealth and turn the pages of socialism to seek cover. Meanwhile, the pilots of Air India, the biggest benefactor of India's confused socialism, are contemplating yet another strike.

Home is after all... home

Ever since I’ve started this blog, I’ve written a number of write-ups on some beautiful places I’ve visited like Fatehpur Sikri, Jhansi, Old Delhi and the city I now live in – Chennai. A short stay at my hometown over the last weekend made me realise that I’ve hardly written much about the place where my roots lie – my hometown. No doubt, I love Delhi and can write page after page about the place, its exquisite culture, history, food and its stories. During the two years that i stayed in Noida, I could imagine Delhi only as a living entity, with its constantly changing exteriors and unchanging soul. Delhi is one of its kinds and I will write a long tribute to that city one day.

There is much that I like about Chennai, for I had my first corporate stint in this city and it is here that I got a job of my liking after almost two strenuous years. It is here that I came for my holidays during my graduation years. But I cannot write about Chennai while I’m still here for I believe that a city is best written about once you leave it; for then you see the positive side of it and forgive the minor flaws it holds

But my hometown, that is a different world for me. I’ve always found flaws with it. I would myself complain a lot about the place, but would not like anyone saying ill about it. I would then become defensive. Thrissur has no history of epic proportions to tell like Delhi and it is not a transforming metro like Chennai and yet, it has a lot which these cities badly lack. After the culturally bankrupt life of Riyadh and Dubai, life in Kerala’s cultural capital was the best thing to have happened to me.

I went around the Thrissur Round this time and saw that quite a few things had changed. Current Books, the shop that marked the beginning of Round East, had been demolished. It was from here that I bought some of the first books since I had started reading and if I’m right, it was only here that you got a good selection of Amar Chitra Kathas and other English books. This was before I saw the Landmarks and Crosswords of the big cities. You never knew the capacity of Current Books. You could hardly locate the book you wanted. But tell the storekeeper and he would emerge in two minutes with that book from nowhere. I’m told Current Books has moved to spacious grounds elsewhere in the town.

Its sister shop Cosmo Books has also moved to a allocation near the Priyadarshini Bus Stand (Vadakke Stand). The bus stand boasts of a huge shop space for India Coffee House. The ICH with its turbaned waiters was the last word on coffee in Kerala. We did not have the Coffee House of Calcutta but prided ourselves for ICH, where people came and chatted endlessly over a newspaper, coffee and cutlets. But a few steps away from ICH I spotted two new coffee bars, with their couches, Italian coffees and fanciful interiors. Small town Thrissur also has its local version of Cafe Coffee Day now.

There are newer restaurants, more shopping complexes and more vehicles on the road. Education is in bad shape with hartals and bandhs. Companies are wary of opening shop in the state. Youngsters in Kerala usually move to Karnataka or Tamil Nadu for their education. But it is here that I did my graduation and I did it pretty well. I was into a load of extra-curricular activities, learnt classical music (perhaps the best thing I did to myself in life), read some of the best books and yet found enough time to study. These days, I always complain that I don’t get time to do anything. But I think time was quite inexpensive in Thrissur. I did a lot more work and there was still time left in my daily life. In all of my life, I’ve only spent five years in whole in Thrissur and have lived outside mostly. The town does not goad you to catch up with anything. It does not expect me to deliver on some target or meet some deadline. I know that at the end of the day, even when I’m nothing, I can come here and the place will take me back without complain. Perhaps that is what you call home.

Back to TINA?

I like the story "35 years ago" that comes with every issue of the magazine India Today. Sometimes the contrast between then and now tells a pitiful transition of some things. Like that of the BJP. 20 years back, the party was at the zenith of its Ram fever and had formed a government in UP, with Kalyan Singh as its CM. Today, UP is readying for polls and the party seems nowhere in the picture. For that matter, the Congress does not seem to be at any advantageous position either.

But think of it. The BJP has been given many opportunities on a platter. Over the last five years, Mayawati has been more busy building elephants and statues than building roads and highways. The Samajwadi Party has lost its way in the maze of Mayawati statues and its leader Amar Singh comes, vanishes and reappears, now looking beyond recognition.

The Congress, having abandoned the nationalist themes of Nehru, is busy with its confounding math on caste and religion, with quotas and night-stays at Dalit homes. The party has never been in a worse condition than it is now, ever since it came to power in 2004. Scams after scams have sullied its image, if any existed. Anna and Baba seem bent on teaching it a lesson. “Our PM is an honest man” is an argument no one seems to buy, the line smacking of Shakespere’s “But Brutus is an honourable man.” The party is unable to sail smoothly with the Bengali didi threatening to rock the boat. Thanks to the ilk of Digvijay Singh, the party has scored countless self-goals.

So where does the BJP stand? Forget the UP polls, where the party is anyway in the ‘also ran’ category, the BJP is least ready for the battle ahead in 2014. The party once boasted of a well-trained cadre, which ran in unison to propel the party to power in 1998 and 1999. The leaders were considered to be less corrupt and the BJP called itself the party with a difference. The much touted lotus in Karnataka has already started wilting in the marsh of mines and corruption. A party crying foul about corruption is busy inducting members who have been rejected from a party like BSP on corruption charges! The party seems to suffering from a multiple personality disorder after two successive defeats at the centre. Through their actions, they have done more to dent their image than to build it, having failed to define its ideology to the new voters. The party seems to be blinking in darkness when any question of the next PM candidate comes up. Does it have another statesman like Vajpayee who can win appeal across board? The party leaders seem more comfortable working from TV studios than in the arteries of India. If the party does not buck up now, the country will be pushed back to the TINA (There is no alternative) days of the 1970s, when Indira was voted back to power, not because the Congress was good at its work, but because the opposition was worse!

And the Bharat Ratna goes to....

The Republic Day will soon arrive and along with it will begin the fight for Padma Awards. For that matter, the awards season begins from this month and the papers will be splashed with exalted beings holding trophies. But the Padma Awardees always get special attention for it is an honour conferred by the Government of India. It is sad that over the past many years it has become a tool to reward loyalties by the government. But this post is about the highest civilian honour, the Bharat Ratna Award.

There will be many crying out the name of Sachin Tendulkar for the honour. But I would keep such silly assumptions away for a while. Sachin might be the reigning God of cricket and is an inspiration to millions. But honey, Bharat Ratna is not yet another award show telecast for your New Year entertainment. It is a recognition for achievement over a lifetime, for dedication to a pursuit and excellence in a field, whose zenith has been touched by the awardee. Sachin Tendulkar can wait and should contend with the Padma Vibhushan given to him last year.

Not many Indians today qualify to be called Bharat Ratnas. But the list here is for what I believe is an honour due by now.

R.K.Laxman: He defined the Common Man for us. His cartoons in Times of India have enthralled generations of readers and have celebrated the everyday travails of the man on the street in the most tongue-in-cheek fashion. ‘The Common Man’ cartoons are modern day classics for the cartoons sketched in the 1960s and 70s still seem relevant. Times have changed but the common man’s imagery and life remain the same. Many political parties have pledged support to the man on the street during every election that India has seen but none have remained steadfast in their loyalty like Laxman. An award to him will mean an honour to the common man.

Dilip Kumar: He is the Last Mughal of Hindi cinema. He brought in a style of which was a marked departure from the loud theatrics of the 1940s and defined what acting would remain to be in cinema thereafter. Mahesh Bhatt famously remarked that half the actors tried imitating him and the other half consciously tried not to imitate him. Comedy, tragedy, action, romance and drama were on his finger-tips, to be doled out on demand. For that matter, Dilip Kumar never acted. He lived each character to perfection. He is a symbol of India's catholic culture. He was Yusuf Khan in real life and Dilip Kumar on-screen. Both the characters would seamlessly merge and stand out as per the occasion. He was the first superstar of independent India and personified the ideals of a generation. This honour is for the most prized relic of cinema, which continues to inspire generation after generation.

Atal Bihari Vajpayee: It is a tricky and confusing business to bestow this honour on a politician, for it invites criticisms and praises in equal measure. Not many will support the idea of honouring a politician as it means extending support to an ideology. But I feel Vajpayee is a statesman, perhaps the last one India has had and one who clearly stood above party line. He could campaign as a member of the BJP and run the nation as a Prime Minister, who was looked up to as a non-partisan force to reckon with. In an era when politics has become a synonym for scams and scandals, Vajpayee is part of the group we call endangered species.

The list is not exhaustive. The last person we honoured with the Bharat Ratna was the late Pt Bhimsen Joshi. It is high time we recognize another gem in our country.

The Blog Award

If you are wondering what this award is about, be assured, it is not a Booker or a Pulitzer to sweep me off my feet. It is an award given by bloggers to fellow bloggers who they feel are worthy of it. It’s been four years of blogging and this recognition, though late, has come nevertheless. Here I go with my award acceptance write-up, as demanded by the rule of this game. Let this be my post-award interview!

Seven Random Facts about You:
I’m talkative, much opposed to the first impression that people make about me. I seldom get tired talking and suddenly I can be deeply meditative. I have remained silent for 10 days without much ado.

For all my jingoism and patriotism, I’ve spent only 6-7 years in India, the rest having been spent in Saudi Arabia and Dubai. I’m very much a dharti ka lal and would like to be here for the rest of my life.

People generally perceive me to be calm. But I’ve the worst temper you can think of. I can mouth the most acerbic expletives and things fly across like saucers when I get angry.

My collection of music varies from a K.L.Saigal recording from Devdas (1935) to A.R.Rehman’s songs from Rockstar (2011). There are few things more endearing than good music and good movies.

I want to be in Calcutta at some point of time in my life. I fell in love with the city during my college days in an overdose of Tagore and Sarat Chandra. Things are not the same now, yet I want to be there.

I would like to settle down in Chennai or Delhi – two cities I have loathed and loved for various reasons. Yet, there is something about these diametrically opposite cities that I love.

I’ve always been a story-teller. I was so fond of stories that I used to record them in my voice as a child and play them to see how good I’m at telling them. I dream of winning some big award like the Booker or National Award some day.

My Favourite Song: Plenty of them. But I can never get enough of M.S.Subbulakshmi and Lata Mangeshkar, who I believe are the most gifted singers of the last century. Then I love Rafi, Kishore and in today’s times, A.R.Rehman and Shreya Ghoshal.

My Favourite Dessert. I love Jalebis, Ras Malai, Kaju sweets, Rava Laddu and many more.

What pisses me off: My own anger.The fact that I lost my temper when it could have been controlled increases it further. I also hate to see the inheritance of loss among my own generation. We are like those fools who set off in search of wealth elsewehre, not knowing that they are sitting on a heap of treasure

Biggest Fear: No specific thing. It comes and dissolves away on an everyday basis.

Best Feature: I can laugh at myself. I'm not a joker but won't mind being one for the ones close to me.

Everyday Attitude: Man proposes, God disposes. A miracle might just be round the corner. Live life as it comes.

What is perfection? That stupid idea where you screw-up your happiness in doing the impossible and that of those who help you in doing it

Guilty pleasure. I spend a lot on books and movies. I don’t know how many of them I read again and again but I simply love to see them arranged on my self.

Give the Award to 15 bloggers
15 is a huge number for a person who does not read much of other blogs. But here’s from where I regularly do!

As I muse: I got this award from Vinitha. She has been there almost since the beginning of my blogging journey with me. Some of her works really amaze and I feel that little more dedication and eye for detail will take her far. A person of few words, she compensates for it with her written words.

In search of: We studied together for two years and we share many common goals. We built umpteen dreams of doing this, doing that and writing a book together. Her writings are sure to leave a smile on your face as you finish them. I know we will realize them step by step.

The Ganga Mail: I first read Biswanath Ghosh in The New Sunday Express. I soon became a fan of his columns. They were like a refreshing filter coffee on a Sunday morning. I still follow his writings on his blogs.

Edhey Thumbi Haadavenu: He has his way of bringing up serials of two amazing characters in his blogs week after week. They remind you of some sitcom you would have followed on DD in the glorious days before the Saas Bahu serials attacked us.

Calcutta Chromosome. Perhaps it was the name that led me to it. But I found some interesting and refreshing pieces on topics I loved from cinema to books and f course my beloved Calcutta.

Till I get my Booker, Pulitzer, Filmfare or National Award, this one should do!

Revolution 2020: An over-promised entertainer

The very cover of Revolution 2020gives a hint about what is inside – a girl hugging her lover with one arm around him and one arm being held by another boy standing by the side. Chetan Bhagat’s new novel Revolution 2020 is no different from a mainstream commercial movie. In fact it has all the elements of a comercial Hindi movie - a loser hero cheated by all, a coughing father who keeps nagging his son about his failure, a girl who chooses a rich boy over him and a kahaani mein twist during the interval after which the hero bounces back with full force.

Gopal, Raghav and Aarti are childhood friends who grow up in the holy city of Varanasi. As they blossom into youth, Gopal wants to get into a commitment with Aarti. Both Gopal and Raghav attempt the IIT-JEE exams. Gopal fails to make it anywhere with his poor rank while Raghav succeeds and gets into BHU. Prodded by his ailing father, Gopal leaves for Kota where he spends one year toiling to crack the IIT entrance without much avail. In Gopal’s absence, Aarti falls for Gopal’s friend Raghav. Gopal is a total loser now.

The twist comes with the entry of a local MLA Shukla who helps Gopal set up an Engineering college. Soon Gopal, who did not even study in a college, greases umpteen palms of government officials with Shukla’s money and sets up an Engineering college, while Raghav renounces all the plush comforts, refuses a job offer in a top IT company and decides to be a journalist, hoping to bring in a revolution to clean up India from the city that washes all sins. Aarti now rediscovers her fondness for Gopal and thus begins a series of events that sets the tempo for the second half of this book.

After having kept his books below Rs. 100 all these years, Chetan Bhagat has for the first time let his book cross the Rs 100 mark. This one is priced at Rs. 140. Even the price of one novel is not more than the cost of a ticket to watch a Hindi movie in a multiplex. Quite opposed to his peers launching books in five-star hotels, Bhagat has always chosen retails outlets, in the midst of his readers. His books are every inch commercial products in the guise of written words.

Those of us who have watched Sudhir Mishra’s classic Hazaaron Khwaishen Aisi would be familiar with the outline of this story of the rich boy going the path of revolution, because he can afford to do so and the middle-class boy, whose sole ambition is to be rich, becoming street smart to make pots of money. At the centre of both is a girl who can turn the scheme of events as she desires.

But this book is not even a pale shadow of the great work of Sudhir Mishra, not that it aspires to compete with it. It is entertaining and provides value for money, something that Bhagat would have had in mind while writing the book. Chetan hinges on the victory of the underdog in this book, a feeling we love as Indians. The problem is with the title and the promotion itself. Chetan Bhagat has bluntly exposed the corruption in our education system. But the book is more about that than about a revolution. Yes there is a character parroting some lines about a revolution but he fails to infuse any confidence, perhaps because Chetan Bhagat himself is not well acquainted with the idea. Though it is supposed to be the titular theme, it has been sidelined to a few pages with repetitive description towards the end. Chetan Bhagat has been carried away by the wave of the Anna brigade and perhaps named this book in the last few months. This book is not so much about a revolution as it is about ambition and corruption. There was much more that could have been done with the plot that he so strenunously developed.

Chetan Bhagat’s Revolution 2020 is like Karan Johar’s My Name is Khan. Both Chetan and Karan are mass entertainers and have strived to make a serious statement with these works, which simply cannot be taken seriously because they lack conviction and fail to look real. People might sit and listen for its star appeal, but that’s it.

Chetan Bhagat's have never been great works of literature just as a Dabbang or a Ready have seldom appealed to the intellect. The next time you are planning a sojourn in a train, do not forget to take Revolution 2020 along. It does disappoint to deliver what it promises, but it entertains as his books usually do.