Hindi book of the month: Chitralekha (चित्रलेखा) by Bhagwaticharan Verma

I'm back, as promised, with a new book of the month. (Technically the book of last month).

Mr. Verma was already an established poet in 1934 when he wrote this book – his debut novel. It was an instant hit and he went on to write many more novels. Critics still consider this one his magnum opus, though. The story has been adapted to film twice, I gather.

This is historical fiction – set in 3rd century BCE, when the Mauryans ruled modern-day Bihar. The book purports to investigate the nature of sin. In Hinduism, sin is an absolute. It's not classified like in Christanity. But it wouldn't be wrong to say that in the Christian sense, we're talking about lust here.

The story begins in a guru's ashram, the educational institution of the time. Two of the guru's disciples, or students, are curious about what sin actually is. The guru says that the nature of sin can't be learned theoretically. It can only be known from experience. He devises a plan to acquaint his naïve students with the ways of the world. Two of his ex-students owe him favors. He asks each of them to take one of his young disciples in their service. The disciples are to observe social and political affairs of the real world and decide for themselves what sin looks like.

The first of these disciples, Shwetank, goes to serve Beejgupt, a wealthy merchant. The second one, Vishaldev, goes in the sevice of Kumargiri, an ascetic yogi. The teacher hopes that these diverse environments will offer diverse perspectives on the matter at hand.

It is at this point that we're introduced to our titular character: Chitralekha.  Her story before the events we've seen is narrated in flashbacks.She's a widower-turned-courtesan. She's more beautiful than God. And she's in love with Beejgupt. They're practically married. But not really, 'cause it's unthinkable for a high-caste man to marry a dancer.

However, Chitralekha is more than just a pretty face. From her earliest scenes, we're introduced to her rapier wit. She's not one to shy away from discussions. She is fearless in attacking bullshit disguised as brilliance, no matter who's spouting it, and her replies are usually unassailable.

Speaking of discussions, I should mention that there's a lot of it. Characters talk about logic and metaphysics and philosophy for pages on end. I enjoyed those parts a lot. But people who don't like intellectual discourse would perhaps want to stay away from this book.

Anyway… so that's how the stage is set for our story. The disciples move to the background. These three characters: Chitralekha, Beejgupt, and Kumargiri, become the principal players. Beejgupt is a man with hedonistic tendencies. But he's wise and he's caring. Kumargiri has renounced worldly pleasures and is a learned man. But he's vain and cruel. Nothing is what is seems like. Perhaps you see the theme now.

There's a pivotal scene featuring cameos by Emperor Chandragupt and his legendary minister Chanakya. This scene is how the paths of Kumargiri and Chitralekha cross. From that point onwards, all bets are off.

What happens to the Beejgupt-Chitralekha romance? How does Kumargiri fit in? Do the disciples eventually learn the nature of sin? I hate to put it all like that, but if you want these answered, you should read the book.

I'll admit that I wasn't aware of the story beforehand, and found myself being taken aback quite a few times. Parts of it might be predictable, but the narrative has plenty of surprises up its sleeve. That and the short length make this book a pretty easy read.

I might add that despite the heroine being a courtesan, the book never feels sleazy. That's more than I can say for my previous read, Yayati, which felt cheaper than pulp fiction in many places.

The language is flawless, barring a few editorial mistakes, which I plan to send an angry letter about to the publishers.

Like all period pieces, like all romance pieces, the inner turmoil of characters hamper the pacing at times, but the character development in this story is so exemplary that it more than makes up for it.

To sum up, this is definitely one of the better pieces of Hindi literature and I recommend it to anyone that can get their hands on it. Better yet, buy the book and support a dying industry.

Till next month.

Hindi book of the month:Yayati (ययाति) by Vishnu Sakharam Khandekar

Disclaimer: Despite the post title, the book is translated from Marathi.

I sincerely apologize to my past self for not writing a book article last month. A series of unfortunate events kept me. I'll try to make up for it soon.

Anyway, remember how I said that our last book, Vayam Rakshamah, contains material for at least ten good novels. I read two of those last month.

The first one is a short novel written originally in English by Mr. Ashok Banker. It's called '10 Kings'. I read the Hindi version called Dashrajan. It's about the battle in Vedic times where 10 kings attempted a coup over the incumbent ruler. The unusual setting and liberal amount of action make up for the dull pacing. All in all, worth a read. I would've written more about it, but I decided that translations of English book don't really count for this blog. For future reference, only books originally written in some Indian language will count.

And that's when I picked up another book I had bought secondhand a while ago. It lay there, stowed away and forgotten, till I decided to declutter my life by reading and donating everything not absolutely integral to my collection.

This book is called Yayati. It's the retelling of a story from Indian mythology. It's original version in Marathi has won major awards, including both the Sahitya Akademi Award and a Jnanapith Award. Those are some serious bragging rights.

Unfortunately, after reading the book I have to wonder what made it earn those accolades. It's not bad. But it's definitely not that good.

The protagonist is King  Yayati, a mythological figure who was an ancestor of the Pandavas (from the Mahabharata, not that it's pertinent in any way). This is probably the horniest king I've ever read about. The two other principal characters are the girls Devyani and Sharmishtha. I'd call this a love triangle, if there was any indication of love whatsoever.

The first act is the king's childhood. It plays like a French movie about a young girl's sexual awakening, except it's about an Indian boy.

The second act is the meat of the story.

Devyani is the daughter of Shukracharya, the guy who has mastered Sanjeevni – the art (science? magic?) of bringing the dead back to life. Sharmishtha – her frenemy – is the daughter of the demon king Vrishparva, Shukracharya's employer.

These young girls obviously both have reasons to be snobs. Sharmishtha's dad is the king, while Devyani thinks he'd be the king of fuck-all without her own father's magic juju. Then there's the matter of Kutch, a boy from their past they both had lady-boners for. One day, they both go swimming ('cause why not?). Arguments ensue, tempers flare, and a titillating girl-fight later, Devyani finds herself in the bottom of a well.

It is at this point that our hero (for the lack of a better word) meets her. The code of chivalry gives him the perfect excuse to help her out. One look at her, and he loses his shit. Now, I'm no stranger to the appeal of a hot girl in wet clothes, but he's a king for God's sake. He should be able to keep it together.

Devyani is no angel either. Upon learning that his savior is a king, she sees an opportunity for vengeance. One thing leads to another, and Devyani appears before her father with her conquest.

She's like, "Daddy, Vrishparva's daughter thinks you're an insignificant piece of shit; and she threw me in the well for dead. So maybe you should stop helping her dad. Let's see him win the war when you stop bringing his soldiers' dead asses back to life. Also, meet King Yayati. He's a pervert and already wrapped around my finger, so I figure I'll marry him and be a queen."

Shukracharya takes it up with Vrishparva. He's like, "Look man, your beef is not with me, but with that snob-ass daughter of mine. Do what you want with her – she's yours – but please keep the Sanjeevni coming." Now, selling out one's own daughter is a dick move; but he's the demon king, what'd you expect? Meanwhile, this is exactly what Devyani was hoping for.

If you haven't figured it out by now – Devyani is a basic bitch.

She take's Sharmishtha for her personal slave and leaves for her new home with the King. Apart from being a total cunt to Sharmishtha, she's also a total cunt to Yayati. Probably because she's not really into him, just married him for his status. She even stops letting him into her bed after a while. Now sex-starving a horny perv can only end one way. He's a goddamn king, with thousands of courtesans at his disposal. Our king goes into full pimp mode.

And that's not even the stupidest thing Devyani does. I'll spare you the details, but she initiates a chain of events that end with Yayati impregnating Sharmishtha.

The third act flashes forward 20 years. I won't spoil anything, but the story's been told before. However, here it feels rushed and anticlimactic. I understand that since the story isn't original, there's not much to work with here. But then I'm forced to ask – did this short story really needed to be retold? In novel-length, no less?

What else…  there are minor subplots involving Yayati's Oedipal issues and his lost brother. There are a couple of appearances by Kutch. Barring that, these three characters dominate the story. They even narrate it, in turns. This little detail, I'll admit, is impressive. Cyclical narration (or third person subjective global narration, as the internet tells me its called) was very uncommon before Game of Thrones. It's good to see it featured in an Indian novel that predates GoT by decades.

That's the only good thing I can say about this novel. Wait, there's one more: the translator did a nice job. The Hindi is almost immaculate. So… two good things, I guess.

If there was a point to the story: a lesson to be learnt, a statement to be made, an irony to be underscored – I didn't get it. The pacing is dull. The content reminds me of soap opera clichés. And I hate all the principal characters. That's to be expected when there is little attempt to explain the motivations behind their inconceivably stupid actions.

All in all, I've failed as a reader, maybe. I don't see what the fuss is all about. Why this mediocre novel received so many accolades is beyond me. And I don't recommend anyone else read it.

Until next time... LLAP.

Hindi book of the month: 'Vayam Rakshamah' (वयं रक्षामः) by Chatursen Shaastri

This is the first article in a new series I plan to write monthly, in which I'll talk about a book from Hindi literature.

The first 'book of the month' is called Vayam Rakshamah. That's Sanskrit for "We'll protect."

I'd like to go into details about the etymological significance of the title, but that'd just be lost on a non-Sanskrit speaking audience. So, let's just say that it was the motto of the demons and move on. More about that in the Hindi blog I plan to write in the near future.

Demons. That's a tricky word. You see, there are a lot of Hindi words for mythological demons loaned from Sanskrit, which are interchangeable in colloquial use. However, the not-so-subtle differences become clear in the book we're talking about.

Yes. It's a book about demons. And how the Gods triumphed over them. There are two prerequisites for the book.

#1: A working knowledge of Ramayan, one of the greatest epics in the world.

#2: An open mind.

The first one isn't all that necessary. Since everyone in India knows the story and celebrates it every year, the author pretty much assumes prior knowledge, and that's why I mention it. The second one though – an open mind – is an absolute necessity.

Ramayan, which translates as Ram's journey, follows Ram – God incarnate – as he rids the world of Demons, culminating in his victory over the Demon-king Raavan.

This book follows the exploits of Raavan, a very unusual and controversial choice. Now, I must mention right away that the book is NOT pro-Raavan. It doesn't attempt to hide, mask, or condone any of the shitty things he did. It's just a narrative choice, presumably because of the novelty of the idea; and the fact that outside of the Ramayan, Raavan's story is still relatively unknown.

This narrative is good, but it's not what makes the book a classic. That would be the parallel narrative juxtaposed against the story of Raavan. In this chronicle, Mr. Shaastri transports us into an age before Ramayan.  He succeeds in fusing two concepts which are always sorted in separate airtight compartments in an orderly mind: mythology and history.

That's what makes this book such a fascinating read. Mr. Shaastri paints the picture of a world before continental drift, when the mythological Lanka was more than just the tiny island of the current Sri Lanka. He makes various claims as to the actual geographic locations of mythological places and peoples (well, races or castes, to be precise, but I'll use peoples to avoid the linguistic baggage those words carry). At places he mentions modern findings and even name-drops some Western archaeologists and historians to back up his claims. He also provides biographies of mythological personalities, complete with unfathomably complex  genealogies.

I think an example is in order. We Hindus normally associate the name 'Varun' with the Water God. Not much is commonly known about this God. In this book, we learn that Varun was the God-king who made a city habitable for his people again after the big bad flood had destroyed it. He "conquered" water, ergo, he became known as the Water God. His more famous moniker is…  wait for it… Bramha! That's right: Brahma, the Creator. What's more, this flood was the same one mentioned in religious texts all around the world. Chrstians know it from the story of Noah. We Hindus know in from the story of the Matsya avatar. (The one in which Lord Vishnu incarnated as a fish to save mankind).

See what I mean.

The book is full of stuff like this. That's why I said you should have an open mind. The connections he makes range from almost logical to ridiculously far-fetched. I'm not saying you should take his word for it, but the author does claim to put fifty years of research into this, so it can't be dismissed outright either. But I think you'll enjoy the book infinitely more if you let him persuade you.

So, we have two parallel narratives. One: the exploits of a young Raavan, which is action-packed and even titillating in places. We have scenes of a young Raavan out for blood: preaching his own brand of culture and forcing people to accept it on swordpoint. Two: the prehistory stuff, which is mostly engrossing, but breezes by so fast that it comes dangerously close to being dull, on occasion. I mean the sheer volume is overwhelming. It's like downloading a history module in your brain from the Matrix. There are at least ten painfully short chapters that read like cliff notes of another novel – a longer, more action-packed novel. I wish Mr. Shaastri had written those novels. I feel like he showed teasers of some great movies he never intended to produce. That's the only flaw I could find in an otherwise perfect novel.

These two narratives are partly reconciled when Raavan meets Rudra, better known as Shiv. At least the timelines sync up at this point, sort of. A while later, he goes and performs the heinous, irredeemable act of kidnapping Sita, Ram's wife. At this point, the other narrative stops. It's pure Ramayan from here on out.

Enter Ram, everyone's favorite God, and the all-too familiar third act begins. (Before this point in the story, Ram only had brief cameos.) Mr. Shaastri narrates the battle at the gates of Lanka in his signature style. He makes several attempts to paper over the fantasy elements, but he doesn't succeed. How could he? It's a God we're talking about. Miracles are bound to happen.

Reading the book makes you wonder something, though. We all know that Ram killing Raavan was a story of good triumphing over evil. One bad guy died. But there's more to it than that. Raavan's intentions were to unify all peoples under his perverted definition of 'culture'. And with a combination of power, and flattery where power didn't work, he was well on his way to make that happen. In light of these events, Ram killing Raavan was not the end of one bad guy. It was the end of a very real danger of losing our culture as we know it.

There's an epilogue, tracing the battle's aftermath and the facts around Ram's descendants. From what I'm given to understand, Ram the king was an administrative mastermind. I was hoping to find out more about that. No such luck. Mr. Shaastri returns to the whirlwind pace and tells us about like nine generations in a matter of a few paragraphs. But that's just a minor complaint.

Overall, this is one of the best and most important books ever written in Hindi, and should definitely be read by every Hindi literature enthusiast at least once, though ideally many more times!

PS: A few chapters – yes, entire chapters – are in Sanskrit. On the first such occasion, Mr. Shaastri justifies this by saying that some things should not be "uncovered/naked" ; and provides a short Hindi summary of the chapter. This kindness is not repeated on any further occasion – of which very few warrant being important enough to be "covered". I hope he did this to show off, which I don't mind as much. I hope he didn't actually subscribe in the notion that Sanskrit is the language of the elite and isn't meant to be deciphered by the commoners. It was that attitude which led to Indians being out of touch with their own culture for the good part of a millennium. (Before the threat of British hierocracy prompted some godsend Indians to rediscover them, most of our sacred scriptures were all but forgotten). It was that attitude which led to a certain Gautam Buddha being dissatisfied with the way things were and preach his teaching in Praakrit – the language of the people at the time. Sanskrit is the mother of all languages, figuratively AND literally. It's not supposed to be code.

PPS: By mainstream Hindi literature standards, this work is pretty risqué, especially considering it features characters which are bona fide Gods. It has graphic violence and a lot of gratuitous… umm… nudity (most of it is around minor characters). Not recommended for kids or prudish adults. Read at you own risk. You've been warned.

The Vertigo Stories: Introduction

Every once in a while, a brand comes along in an art form and turns it on its head. Pixar did it to movies. HBO did it to TV. And Vertigo did it to comic-books.

Before Vertigo, comic-books almost exclusively dealt in superheroes. By the nineties, the two major players in the market – DC and Marvel – had been doing it for ages. Meaning that when you picked up a comic-book in the 90s, you were likely to read about the adventures of someone with superpowers. Adventures riddled with clichés (enjoyable clichés, but clichés nonetheless)... adventures bogged down with decades of continuity… adventures with no end in sight.

That all changed when DC's imprint Vertigo came to the scene. It seemed like the greatest minds in comic-books had finally let loose their creativity in ways that the superhero genre simply didn't permit. This material wasn't bound to any one genre. Sci-fi, horror, western… everything was fair game. I love the superhero genre, but it's monopoly on the medium was certainly not a good thing. Vertigo allowed writers to structure stories sensibly. No more continuity problems. No more gimmicky crossovers. No more predictable storylines. These stories weren't designed to continue indefinitely. Which meant as far as the fate of the characters went, all bets were off. This was probably the best part about these stories – that they were unpredictable, and that they ended.

Oh, and one more thing. Vertigo dealt a severe blow to the notion that comic books are for kids. Stories from Vertigo had an unusual level of graphic violence, hilariously profane language... and even the occasional nudity. Most importantly, the themes were mature. Nothing like the simple escapist joy of seeing heroes fly and fight villains... this was serious, deep stuff. Vertigo turned the comic-book into the graphic novel. Literally. It was Vertigo who first started publishing collected editions of story arcs as 'trade paperbacks' and selling them at all bookstores (as opposed to simply comic-book stores) — a trend that mainstream comic publishers would soon follow.

Vertigo produced a lot of extremely successful titles. Occasionally with established comic-book heavyweights; but mostly with new, young talent who went on to become established comic-book heavyweights. We're talking the likes of Grant Morrison, Warren Ellis and Brian Azzarello, before they were famous.

I plan to cross off major Vertigo titles one by one from my to-do list. I'll review them, one title at a time, right after I'm done with it.

LLAP.

Book Review - "The Gene: An Intimate History" by Siddhartha Mukherjee

I originally bought this book as a gift for a friend. Genetics is right in her wheelhouse, while I've always found biology rather intimidating.

There's still a while before I'll be able to present it, though. And the book, after all, is about history – scientific history at that – which I've always found fascinating. And although biology isn't exactly my thing, genetics is as relatable as it gets for me –  a professional coder. I decided to give it a read.

The author of this book, Siddhartha Mukherjee, is an Indian-American physician and biologist. Perhaps his academic background and time spent abroad among are to credit for his English, which has the kind of impeccability few Indian or Indian-origin writers seem to have these days. (He does show an unfortunate partiality to a few odd phrases, but that is quite forgivable). Second-rate language has always had a huge disincentive effect on me while reading anything. So I'm happy to report that this book is not likely to offend people like me.

He has won the Pulitzer prize for his previous book –  The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer. Dr. Mukherjee tells us in the acknowledgements that this book, The Gene, is meant to be a prequel to Emperor. It might seem a tad unusual to assign continuity to non-fiction books. Nonetheless, the man has a flair for narrative which convinces me that he's right; and I intend to read this next book as soon as I can get my hands on it. (I was recently diagnosed with a benign tumor in my right hand; so that might have spiked my interest in the topic.)

Now, let's talk about the book. A blurb on the dust jacket quotes a reviewer as calling it "perhaps the greatest detective story ever told." Other reviews have pointed out that the 'intimate' in the title refers to the stories form the author's personal life, which are 'woven through the narrative'. That part confused and deterred me initially. Was I about to read a book on science, or a biography? Rest assured, the personal stuff makes up for only about 5% of the narrative: small episodes punctuated at irregular intervals. And it doesn't distract from the science. On the contrary, it actually helps us appreciate the importance of the subject matter, and Dr. Mukherjee's stakes in it.

The book tells the story of the gene. It is structured chronologically, for the most part. Sometimes, the clock is turned back when we're learning about a new sub-discipline, but it's never confusing. The author uses an anecdotal approach, but manages to cover the topics quite comprehensively (or so I think).

For the sake of covering all bases, I should mention that the book is complete with a glossary, a timeline, author's notes, a bibliography and an detailed index. Also, there are eight colored pages containing key photographs.

On the whole, I found the book extremely informative and entertaining. There are three big reasons for that.

Firstly, in addition to his excellent command on the English language, Dr. Mukherjee also demonstrates a penchant for prose writing and narrative structure. He appears to be extremely well-read. Metaphors and quotes from Greek myth to Shakespeare to current pop culture are peppered throughout the book. This is not a dull collection of scientific facts. This is a story. A journey. Dr. Mukherjee makes the characters from history come alive. You can almost see Darwin collecting fossils in a wasteland and Mendel in his vast fields of pea. The tragedy of Mendel not being recognized during his lifetime is right up there with the any tragedy you might encounter in high literature.

Secondly, the narrative assumes nothing and imposes nothing. You don't have to be a biology expert to understand what the book is talking about. It is pretty accessible. At the same time, the never does the book claim that biology better than all other sciences or genetics is better than all other disciplines. Nothing is glorified. Dr. Mukherjee presents the facts with the conscience of a good journalist. He shows us the miracles of the discovery of DNA, and the massive undertaking of Human Genome Project, but he doesn't shy away from showing us the horrors of Nazi eugenics, or experimental genetic treatments gone wrong due to doctors misguided by ambition.

Thirdly, and perhaps more importantly, Mr. Mukherjee isn't a passive storyteller. He helps us understand the significance of what's happening and the moral/ethical dilemmas it poses. He has the conscience of a journalist, but not the detachment of one, which is understandable. The book is opinionated, and I found myself agreeing with most of the opinions.

Having read the book, I realize the staggering amount of research and effort that must have gone into writing it. This book is a monumental achievement. I can't recommend this enough.

Rating: 9.5/10

PS - There's a reason I didn't talk much about the contents. I aim to include a chapter-wise summary of the book as soon as I can.

Raison d'être

Hello reader. You're probably just me in the future.

As much as I dislike blogging, there are some undeniable advantages to it.

I usually try editing Wikipedia articles when I have something useful to say. But, every now and then, there are some articles you can't create/edit without violating their policy of 'personal research'. Specifically, if I read a book and there nothing on Wikipedia about it, I can't simply add it unless I can add citations and sources and references from around the web. If the book is obscure, there simply aren't any.

While I'm at it, I might add reviews of things I'm passionate about, even if they're already heavily reviewed, because why the hell not.

That's where this blog comes in. Hopefully, it will help someone looking for information when Wikipedia fails them. Again, it will probably just be me in the future.

Let's see if I can keep this up.

Cheers.