An Honest 10 Books list

Everyone is going high-end literature buff with this task of listing their favourite ten books, or atleast that is what it seems to me. Books entered my life much later than usual, at the age of 19 when I read my first full fledged novel/book. But in my life so far, I have lived with academics and being a civil services aspirant. So now, I have two lists. The first one is from my pretentious self, the second list is from my nerdy self. These are the books that remain with me even today:

(in no particular order)

LIST#1

1) The Harry Potter series by J.K.Rowling

Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban in particular, because it was the first book I EVER read.

2) The Shiva Trilogy by Amish

Shiva is my favourite mythological character and Indus Valley Civilization is my favourite period of study in History. I had to love the series.

3) The DaVinci Code by Dan Brown

The book blew my mind. I finally realised that I had an inclination for conspiracy novels.

4) Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

This book took me a month to finish but it was nothing less than magic.

5) Windmills of the Gods by Sidney Sheldon

Love for the book, more love for the genre

6) Bridget Jones' Diary by Helen Fielding

Bridget is basically me.

7) Lord of the Rings by J.R.R.Tolkein

Transported.

8) Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L.James

For Christian Grey. Also, it is Beyonce certified.

9) White Mughals by William Dalrymple

Grand. Epic.

10) Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach

"Do you want to fly so much that you will forgive the Flock, and learn, and go back to them one day and work to help them know?"

LIST#2

1) A Cultural History of India - A.L.Basham

2) Oxford Disctionary of World History

3) Quantitative Aptitude - Dr.R.S.Aggarwal

4) NCERT Textbooks

5) Machiavelli's Prince

6) Medieval India - Satish Chandra

7) India's Struggle for Independence - Bipin Chandra

8) Civil Service Chronicle

9) Early History of India - Romila Thapar

10) Tinkle

I have a few books on the waitlist waiting to be read:

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, Empire of the Mughals by Alex Rutherford, Life of Pi by Yann Martel, Discourses by Karl Marx, Chanakya's Chant by Ashwin Sanghi, Love in the time of Cholera by Garcia Gabriel Marquez and The Great Gatsby by F.Scott Fitzgerald.

Do I need to add more to my to-read list? I'd love some suggestions! 

Lost a parent. Found my God.

AGNOSTIC  /aɡˈnɒstɪk 

  

/
A person who believes that nothing is known or can be known of the existence or nature of God.

I have been an agnostic for as long as I can remember. Coming from a family of staunch believers in divinity, I was the oddity. None of the relatives understood what I was. Honestly, I did not see sense myself. Praying was a matter of convenience, remembering a higher power happened when I was in trouble and needed an out.

And then last week, I lost my father to an unexpected cardiac arrest. Having lost my grandmother just four months back had left a rather lasting impression on me and I began to treat death as any other 'big' moment in one's life. Papa suffered from a long-standing heart condition. I made myself believe that his passing away had relieved him from years of pain and suffering. I also told myself that no matter what happened, I still had mum to be with and look after. I went about the charades gracefully, fulfilling the duties that were expected of me. Being the only child, mum insisted I light Papa's funeral pyre. Unorthodox as it may be to everyone, it happened and mum's wish stood honoured. The priest argued that women were weak of heart to handle the sight of a dead body, let alone the body being their father's. It was orthodox-talk for 'keep the women out!' 

I stood near Papa's head, trying to take it all in, when it hit me. A wave of sheer realisation. This will be the last I see of him. Ever. 

Then there was His voice in the back of my head. 

Him, singing a song.

"Kya se kya ho gaya...."

Because that is what he would do. 

Papa sang songs to commemorate events, big or small. He did that all the time. He used to say that it was his way of making a memory that lasted way longer than just a few random seconds. In that eternal moment I knew how I was going to remember him for the rest of my life. I was going to make him a part of every memory I make thereafter, big or small. From that moment on, I gained a God. Watching over me. Loving me. Letting me make mistakes. Smiling down at me while I teach mum how to pick a perfect song for every emotion. 

Papa was an amazing man. His sense of humour is as legendary as his anger and self-respect. No man could ever lead a family out of non-entity the way he did. He taught me how to be benevolent by just being himself. We had our share of fights as well because he raised a daughter who would not give up without making herself heard. He believed that people were essentially good and helpful. He may not have necessarily turned me into a believer but I am not a skeptic anymore, because my father is my angel. 

Dealing with the loss of a loved one, let alone a parent, is one of the most difficult things a person has to go through in his life. Living in denial is bad. Worse than that is trying to get over the death. You don't get over someone dying. Instead, you learn to live with it. You embrace it and you let the happy memories of that loved one heal you. The moment when you can think of those who went away and smile at the kindling of a fond memory about them is when you know all is going to be well after all. Its been 7 days and Papa's memory makes mum and me smile more than it makes us weak. He gives us strength to carry on. 

P.S.

Papa, 

I hope there is internet connectivity and a constant supply of mangoes and pizzas where you are. I will look after mum, don't worry. You just make sure I don't do anything stupid, I know you will point me into the right way when need be. Needless to say, I miss you. A lot. I love you so much.

Potterhead. Always.

It is my undying love for J.K.Rowling's extravaganza, Harry Potter that I am not able to get over the franchise even years after it ended spectacularly. The books changed my life in a million ways. It is not just a story of Harry's final victory over Voldemort, it is in fact a tale of bravery, love, friendship, sacrifice, pride and innocence. Each character displays a certain depth and they end up teaching us a lot more than we take from what is just plainly written.

Album Dumbledore taught us that one can always leave their past behind and change for the better. That greatness is derived from the love people have for you and not by exerting power, which he shows by consistently declining the post of the Minister of Magic. 

Severus Snape taught us that love is timeless and unconditional. That once you love someone dearly, you will stand by that. ALWAYS.

Rubeus Hagrid taught us that wild was good. That if you wanted to pet a dragon and raise a three headed dog, it was just as normal as wanting to drink pumpkin juice. He taught us that not everything that looks ferocious is dangerous, 

Luna Lovegood taught us that being weird is cool. That believing in things no one else believes in is possible, if only you believe in your version of things no matter how crazy.

Draco Malfoy taught us what it is to be pushed into wrongdoing against your own will. That living with bad company, need not make you a monster. There might still be hope. 

Bellatrix Lestrange taught us that obsession was a dangerous thing. That obsessing over something or someone was going to get you nowhere except for being dead.

Neville Longbottom taught us that being an under achiever usually ends up winning crucial battles. That dealing with a past that involves parents that no longer remembered him and a grandmother who expects too much from him did not pull him down. 

Ginny Weasly taught us to be tough. That being a girl was not just gossips and giggling and making sparks fly from the wand, it is about casting perfect bat bogey hexes and being an amazing Quidditch beater.

Fred and George Weasly taught us to be jesters. That to laugh and to make people laugh was indeed the best medicine. 

We miss you Fred! :'(

Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin taught us that we always find love when we are not looking for it. That standing together to face death was the most important thing than having to let go for each other's safety. 

Hermione Granger taught us that it was okay to be the know-it-all. That pouring over books and being the one who always answers questions, no matter how crazy they are, comes in handy to handle the deadliest of situations.

Ron Weasly taught us that it was more important to be a friend than being that guy who always lives in the shadow of a celebrity. That ginger people are the ones adorned with the best sarcastic humour. 

Harry Potter taught us that bravery and selflessness are the traits of a hero. That losing your loved ones should not let you lose sight of your bidding. 

Voldemort taught us that power corrupts. That if a person knows no love, he knows no magic. 

and

J.K.Rowling taught us that a string of rejections and downsides in life cannot tear you apart. That pulling yourself together and believing in your stories is more important than anything else. Because 'No story lives unless someone wants to listen to them'

Let me know if there are other characters from the series that have taught you something, or if these characters have inspired you in a significant way. 

Throwback

I wrote this particular piece nearly 6 years back. Back then I wanted to be like Chetan Bhagat, a Rs 99/- wala book writer. You can safely say, I was naive. My naivety will reflect in my rather flat style of writing below. But this short little story is closest to my heart because it made me want to be a writer one day.

Here it is: 

Spolier: It talks about me! :D

DATE – 20^th September 1988

TIME – 7:15 am

  

In a not so well-groomed courtyard sat Mr.Chaddha on his armchair swaying back and forth. He was sipping his favourite Darjeeling cinnamon flavoured tea greedily like there was not going to be a tomorrow morning. He was a portly man in his late forties, though he looked much older, had a pot belly large enough to store food for an entire battalion and had a good natured face with a frizzled moustache. It was exactly 7:15 in the morning of that drizzly September day. The South-west monsoons were on the verge of its end. And so it rained pretty heavily to mark its last. Mr. Chaddha picked up The HINDU and read the headlines.

He tut tutted something about politics going to the dogs and put the paper down as if it had deeply disturbed his conscience and made his heart ache. The expression on his face was terrific, humanly impossible to even form for us normal earthlings, but then that’s Chaddha uncle at his diplomatic best. He pushed the troubling thought out of his mind and went back to slurping his lukewarm morning drink. Wait a minute, enough of him. Because, this is not his story.

No, it is not!

Three blocks away was a hospital – Sita Bhateja Nursing Home, run by a gynaecologist. No prizes for guessing who ran the nursing home, Dr.Mrs.Sita Bhateja. Right then she was in the labor room nursing a woman terribly in pain. The hands of the clock slowly ticked as the anxious parents of the aforementioned ‘lady-in-pain’ waited. Her husband had been informed the minute her water broke and the father-to-be anxiously started for the hospital. It was their first child after all. All this was happening in the Garden City of Bangalore; and the father-to-be lived in the neighbouring capital of Hyderabad, and he left instantly to be with his wife. He knew he would well arrive after all of it is over, but still the excitement and the anxiousness got the better of him. He was overjoyed. This over enthusiastic ‘father-to-be’ is my Paa, more specifically my FATHER. And yes, the lady-in-pain is my MOTHER, my Maa. Oh, now you are getting it, this story is about me – the child about to be born.

Let me tell you how my Ma and Pa came together.

They met in the strangest of fashions. Theirs wasn’t a love marriage. It was arranged as was the tradition at that time in the small village of Rajasthan they hailed from. The story goes that Maa was the pretty maid in her early twenties and she had heaps of prospects peeping through her doorway everyday; she had a hell of a choice to choose from.

‘I’m confused’ is what Ma blurted out after meeting each prospect in due succession. And then…… enter Paa-The dashing young man! He was smitten by the beauty and charm of the beautiful young lady and her confusion made him fall crazily for her. Their meeting was arranged, Maa and Paa saw each other and it was love at first sight. An alliance was anticipated and everybody expected an almost immediate formal announcement of an engagement. But my Grand-dad played spoilsport and like all the typical prospective groom’s sides in India, my grandfather said he would give his answer in a week or so, but Paa found that too much time to wait. Overnight, he boarded a bus, traveled nearly a thousand miles from Hyderabad to Rajasthan to get to Maa’s house and declared his wish to get married to Maa as soon as it was possible. That’s the best thing Paa did because if he would not have made it then Maa was being forced to say yes to another prospect. And if this alliance failed to happen, I would have never existed to tell my story.

Now it was all settled.

Paa said YES and Maa accepted it more than willingly.

And then they had ME.

No wait, they were still in the process of having me. Maa’s in pain and Paa’s still in the train.

‘Wow!’ 

That rhymed. I started training myself in such feats in Maa’s womb itself. So, you could say that a genius is about to be born.

While Dr. Mrs. Bhateja nursed my mum through her painful labour, my attention shifts over to the anxious looking parents of the mum-to-be. They were about to have their first grandchild, an achievement in itself and were bloody beyond happy. Today is the occasion of firsts.

Now, the moment of action. Precisely, at 7.16 am, a minute after Mr. Chaddha tut-tutted about the Indian polity, I was born. Like an angel to curb the negativities of politics which ached Mr. Chaddha’s heart even as he sipped his tea. I was the saviour who was born as the one who would shine as the lone light of hope and the end of the dark tunnel of the disappointing administrative machinery. I was born to be the source of relief to the balding gentleman three blocks away. But, unfortunately for him, I was neither of these. I am a baby, after all.

So, big discussions can wait for now. 

Confident and Fat

"Life would have been so much easier if not for the fat."

On an average, a relatively overweight person will think on the above lines more often than not. Say, 12 times a day. Obviously, I am making this statistic up because, let's face it, no one really gives a twit about what fat people think. The obvious corollary to fat is happy-go-lucky, so the 'not-so-fat' normal section of the society operate under the belief that fat people like to be well, fat.

Let me clear this once and for all. We are not Fat People, we are just People. Yes, there are times we have serious body image issues. There's also an added obsession to excel in other areas of performance because "beauty-wise toh beta aap bahut cute hain, sundar nahi!" Our life is one big calorie counting extravaganza and we live off water and air most times. How the day shall be lived will be decided by the ever angry weighing scale and one tip of the weight needle to the right is enough to get us prepared for a water diet. Speaking of diets, we know all about them! The General motors diet, The Banana diet, The Cabbage soup diet, The Grapefruit diet, The Juice fasting, The 3 hour diet, The Skinny bitch diet, The French Women don't get fat diet (You saw this right!).... Been there, done that!

Why this rant now, you must think? I have been fat my whole life. Wait. Not fat, Obese. I pretty much loved the entire 'cute' phase that happened before I hit puberty. After that it was all downhill. The attention was all way too negative and the I went spiraling down into a binge eating spree to help me cope with all this. By the time I was 18, I was the size of a baby whale with serious self-confidence issues. I clung on to anyone that spared time to talk to me, let alone be friends. My intermediate college years were the most difficult. I was not myself, I struggled immensely with my body image and my communication skills were a disgrace. If not for being good at academics, I would have been a nobody later in life. Good grades were my saving grace. It was after being admitted in one of the top colleges in the city that I pulled myself together and decided to turn my life around. One thing at a time.

My first goal was to learn to communicate. Before college happened, I basically had no working knowledge of grammar and vocabulary. Piecing two words together to make a sentence was a task. On my first day of college, at orientation, I remember trying to make sense of everything that was being said about classrooms, lecture halls, courses and stadiums. There was a moment of underlying exhaustion, coupled with panic and distress. I came home and lay awake all night trying to figure out how to get through classes. There were plans, and backup plans, and backup plans to those backup plans. Next day, miraculously, I found my way through the crowd. Because we were a small group in the History Graduate class, I felt noticed. The confidence was there, lurking at the back of my mind. I just had to reach for it. As days passed by, academics helped me get through tough classes and theories. I spent hours at home with library books and a dictionary wading my way through slowly. Steadily. In a couple of weeks, I felt confident walking the corridors. I was recognised, liked even. It was a major confidence boost. I also ran for Class representative elections and was elected. Mighty nerdy, but cool. I got over my fear of rejection in the coming years. I also learnt a lot about communication, language and life in general from Harry Potter (more on that, soon)

I believe acceptance is key. Acceptance and the will to change for better. I have not drastically slimmed down to gain a little perspective, I just accepted my flaws and learnt to excel past those. All this is easier said than done and I am still learning. Having said that, a part of me thinks I am just the best. Slimming down is definitely on my top priority list and I am getting there slowly despite being the lazy person that I am. I am also sure I will overcome my procrastination and transform into a better version of me.

Me! 

Until then,

Be Fat. Be Confident. Be Fabulous! 

Overheard!

Meeting distant relatives and extended families is not just an event, it is an entire hullabaloo in itself, for reasons unimaginable.

The following were overheard at one such get-together, I kid you not ( someone I know was at the receiving end). Reasons what a KANYA, ahem girl, is expected to be when she crosses the catastrophic age of 22.

1. That you are a girl, now a woman. You have to be married. Becuase 'log kya kahengey?'
2. That you are old enough to earn in five figures and still haven't made a headway on the career front. 'Ghar pe hi baithi hain'.
3. That too much academics will take you nowhere. 'Itna padha likha husband kya aasman se tapkega?'
4. That cooking is ultimately where all your skills converge. 'Pati ke dil ka raasta, uske pet se jaata hain!'
5. That you have to adore children no matter how uncouth and naughty they be. 'Bacche toh bhagwaan ka roop hote hain!'
6. That retorting is a sin. 'Zabaan sambhal ke'
7. That reading shall now confine to magazines about Re-decorating houses, Homemaking, Better parenting and Health/Fitness. 'Apne parivaar ka khayal tum nahi rakhogi toh kya tumhara padosi rakhega?'
8. That you have to learn to obey. 'Pati jo bhi kahey, sab sahi'

The list is exhaustive but the aunty went on and on about similar things in the half an hour bracket.

In a nutshell, I present you, THE TORTURE unmarried women (like me) endure at family affairs in the hands of bulbuous aunties. 

Being me!

Picture this!
Situation#1: Summer Camp. Dance class. Your instructor pairs you with the cutest boy in the whole class, the one you have been crushing on from like forever. You want to impress the hell out of him. In all the excitement that you can hardly contain, you do a wild jig and resultantly stamp his feet, kick on his shins and bruise his knee. Your friends tut-tut, "Clumsy oaf does it again!"
Situation#2: High School. School day celebrations. You are chosen to speak in front of a sprawling audience. In all the nervousness you walk up to the stage and break into 'Macarena' to avoid speaking.

All of the above is me. The erstwhile 'leg-bruising', 'macarena-dancer' ME! I had such a reputation of being clumsy that I had officially earned myself the tag of the 'things will go flying when she is around' girl.
And one day, decided I'd do something about it. I walked up to the mirror and said to myself, "So, I am clumsy. I break down and do abnormal things in a crowd. But, I'll be the same and still be cooler." Of course before this filmy thing I did, I ensured I shut the doors. I did not want to be called lunatic now! Today, the idea of talking to myself looking into the mirror sounds absurd, but it worked wonders for me. The point is, I decided I'd continue to be what I was and not change. I embraced my being and avoided being someone who dug their noses into self-help books to become what they were inherently not.
I adapted to my nasty traits. I started dancing a lot. I used my clumsy-swaying techniques in this art form and today, they call me Graceful instead.
I started blabbering random funny stuff till I actually gathered courage to speak sense in a crowd. Today, I am the smartass who also is insanely funny.
I found another outlet to my nervousness. I began to write. I directed myself towards academics and the knowledge that I gained gave me the additional confidence to speak. That led me on the way to become a lecturer.
I worked a couple of regular annoying habits in my favour and people now treat me as a star in a social gathering. I may have had shortcomings, but I did not change. Because if I did, the world would lose a star!

By the way, I still am clumsy. I mess up a lot in front of an audience and my students and i still blabber randomly.

I haven't stopped being me.

Of addiction.

Like any mortal being, I have my share of addictions.

Being a woman, I am inherently addicted to chocolate. I hardly find someone of either genders who swears to not like chocolate. That does not mean I haven't come across such non-chocoholics, but that is not what I am blogging about right.
Any person who has been living on chocolates can well describe the effects they are put under on its consumption. The effects include drooling, smiling purposelessly, staring into space and mumbling gobbledegook! But we chocoholics would rather remain in a trance than being stuck in a sad, routine day. I practically live on chocolate. That's my Addiction # 1.

Everybody has their favourites from the film industry. As for me, I drool over certain cinema personalities. Them being, Gerard Butler, Johnny Depp, Rupert Grint and Leonardo diCaprio. I am addicted to them, and I am addicted to their movies. I am not much of a hollywood person, but then Wikipedia and Google give me their filmographies and Youtube provides me with the vids.

I am addicted to books. I boast of a mini-library in my house. I read books of all genres, my first favourite being the Harry Potter series, but more on him later. My favourites - the basic Sidney Sheldons, John Grishams, Chicken Soups and various titles on Indian and World History. I am obsessed with book-stores cos thats where the primary addiction for books start. Half my credit card expenditure is on these darned bookstore chains.(as luck would have it, there's an Odyssey in the immediate neighbourhood. Corporate blood-sucking chains I tell you) Anyway, the addiction continues and my mother is considering sending me to Shopoholics Anonymous (if there exists one)

Apart from the above, I am addicted to Writing, Facebook, my iPhone.

End of part 1.

Wonderment

They intrigue me, the matters of heart. When I was a kid, I loved the whole idea of love and the hullabaloo that surrounds it. Not that I was untouched by it in any way, I felt it around me in the air. The people I knew claimed to be foolishly romantic and totally head over heels this person they were with.

Whoa! If you just put aside all the lovey-dovey feelings aside and tried to be rational about the concept of love. Love eventually leads to co-existence. Living with the other gender, habitation, copulation, etc follow. (It can comfortably established what genre of 'love' I am particularly referring to) Anyway, I used to wonder a lot when I was in my early teens as to how two sane adults come to terms with a situation like this. I mean we are talking about making a family, living with each other's flaws, compromising to no end. Mind you, I dreamed of a perfect man too. That perfect guy who would sweep me over, flatter me to no end and take me away to a far far away land where i'd live as his QUEEN for the rest of our lives.....and then I grew up!
I still had fantasies but coupled with harsh realities of life. I looked for answers, asked a lot of people (strangers mostly, who shot me a disgusting look and cast me away) Little did I know that the answer to a proposition that complicated was lurking around in my house.

Let me tell you about this couple I know at home. Extremely romantic, deeply in love, fights like raging bulls but pampers each other at the same time. Eventually they went on to start a family and voila! I happened! I look at Maa and Paa and the way they spend their day together. Even if it did not involve telling each other how much they loved them, they seemed a lot in love. I got to talking with Maa one day about the bond she and Paa shared. "Oh! It was not always like this," she had said. "Your father and I had adjustment issues initially in the marriage, we even fought a lot over trivial things. But as time passed I started to understand him, and he, me. We found happiness in each other and still do. That is the secret to our marriage. Infact sweetie, that's the secret to every successful relationship there is." I was stumped. I was getting my first relationship advice from my mother and I was barely 15.

Today, at 22, I do not recall this story that often. But it has since changed my whole perspective about love and relationships. I have learnt not to be scared of what's out there. I have grown up enough to learn and embrace what comes my way. 'Cos if I love, I will be loved back.
And I am the most loved person on the face of this planet....Period!

Mumma

thats me! cute, one might call. i say chubby.
all the cute baby qualities i had, some incorporated in me by my doting mother. oh how i love her. she is such a joy. sometimes she does get a little cranky about things, but whats a good mother-daughter thingy without a little tantrum throwing! inspite of me bring the rebel, wanting to live life on my terms, she has regarded me as a model daughter throughout. she has had her doubts clarified eventually and realised the one fact that her daughter ain't gonna give up easily no matter what. i have come to appreciate hard work because of her belief in it. i feel comforted in her lap (yes, i still sleep in her lap 'the maa ki godhi'). i glow when my relatives tell me that i look so much like my mother, of course i should, i am her daughter after all. mum supports me when i need it the most, scolds me when i deserve it the most. though i never admit it in front of her, i dunno what i would have done without her in my life. i argue and fight with her quite often now that i am starting to grow 'big' (in my ma's words) but thats just how we are. she knows me and i know her. i am her punching bag when she needs to let her frustartion out and she is my teddy bear when i wanna cry. i have never told her this but i mean it deeply - I LOVE YOU MUM!