The Search for Love

I believe every one of us at one time or the other starts searching for love. Some go through their whole life ignoring their hearts desire just to search feverishly for what is it that matters on their death beds. Some others are truly lucky, Love finds them. Love presents itself in front of them in such lovely ways that it is impossible for anyone to ignore. Lucky Bastards. But many of us are not that fortunate yet we don’t give up, we are not undermined, we search for it with all our vigor.

Why do I love the silence of the moon,

The paradisal distance of the dawn,

I believe myself lucky when it comes to love. No, love did not show itself in front of me and knock on my door but I did not had to search much to find it an I was luckier still that I knew it when I found it. It really is true that when true love blossoms its hard to ignore and impossible to notice. It feels like the whole and everything in it comes to be revolving around that special someone. What you do and what you think, everything starts and ends with that someone.

The depth of eve mysteriously withdrawn,

Better than all the roses of late June,

One can always force oneself to love a person but that is not the true nature of love. At all times such love shall feel empty and its abysmal absence felt upon mankind? One cam always adjust, analyze and feel secure in love. Love is inherently volatile, unyielding and never shape. It is as chaotic as the moments of genesis was and so is it just as tranquil and serene as the midnight lakes. Love takes no prisoners nor ever call for peace, yet it is never the war nor the clandestine blood splatter.

The garden's breath, the orchard's golden boon,

The burning brightness of the new-mown lawn,

I had my heart broken not once, not twice nor thrice but many more a times. It has been bruised and it has been violated beyond healing, yet my heart could not stop itself from the vindictive search for love. Then came the absence, the abstinence and the stale doldrums and after all of the hells ailments came the light and came the peace.

The mossy forest-floor with beech-mast strawn,

And green trees waving in the depth of noon.

It was a smile at first and then a giggle, It was a hello at first and then serene silence, a touch then its prolonged absence, an emptiness and then the feeling of universal belonging and then the feeling of weightlessness sans hunger sans thirst. Like the vagabond clouds in the heaven his mighty and afterwards the freshness of the virgin earth at the first touch of the mighty rain.

Night hath her dreams and the lone heart its tears;

Silence and longing weep themselves to rest

Then one day in the autumnal bliss of the solitary morning, in her lovely poster resembling much mighty artists’ works and in the absence of time, space and reason I knew, I knew what is it that I held in my heart and unknowingly sans reason and logic I drew her near and sealed us with a kiss. Not a long prolonged slobbering of lust but the lightest brushing my trembling lips on her snow like cheek.

Each on the other's mild and maiden breast;

The seeking spirit sighs, the dim star hears;

Oh Bliss Eternal. This was the moment of great love that had extended many a millennia, time was not in any hurry and reason had not one bit of sand to stand upon. This was our moment and our alone and the all the earth and the heavens above were ours and ours alone. This was my moment of enlightening   and my moment of atonement. The final act of supreme love and from it came love and love only.

Distance and high devotion suit the best,

And deep as thy deep eyes the dawn appears.

The Book Review : The Bankster - Ravi Subramanian

An insidious sequence of events, twists and turns set beautifully to trap and engage the reader from the start to the very end. Ravi has managed to make sure that the element of surprise and anxiety never settles in the readers mind till the very last and ensured that predictability is abolished entirely. The Bankster is a true mystery in all its completeness and essence that can be set apart from the rest as a resonating example of what a mystery must and should be. 

Synopsis : Bankers build their careers on trust, or so everyone thinks, till a series of murders threaten to destroy the reputation that the Greater Boston Global Bank (GB2) has built over the years. Who is behind these killings, and what is their motive? When Karan Panjabi, press reporter and ex-banker, digs deeper, he realizes that he has stumbled upon a global conspiracy with far reaching ramifications a secret that could not only destroy the bank but also cast a shadow on the entire nation. With only thirty-six hours at his disposal, he must fight the clock and trust no one if he is to stay alive and uncover the truth.

The story ensues from the diamond mines of Angola driven by a covert CIA agent and it passes hands to Vikram Bahl and comes Home to Mumbai where most of it is set. It later wanders off to the Europe pursuing a series of unfortunate yet seemingly unrelated events. The story set amongst the employees in the upper echelons of the Greater Boston Global Bank passes on suspicion as if in a relay race, making it almost impossible for the reader to arrive at a preconceived guess of the mystery man. Something that most mystery writes miss now a days is where Ravi Subramanian scores tons.

The story though extremely realistic has some minor flaws never the less, The story does lack a true protagonist  Karan Panjabi, the Banker turned reporter who is supposedly the hero of the tale come way after the middle of the story and almost to the end. His entrance is so feeble and uncared for that no one knows he is the protagonist till he solves the mystery. No character sketch, no intensity of feeling, no nothing of our protagonist is given anywhere. All on a sudden he drops in with a girl and takes charge of the story leaving the readers feeling lost and somewhat deprived. He could have done much good by introducing Karan in the start and channeling the story through him than from various unambiguous sources.

This particular defect extends to all of the characters and is the single most disastrous the writer made with the book. Almost all of his characters are uncharted and lacks depth. The only person whose character has been examined would be Vikram bahl that to as a consequence of certain events and not as part of a dedicated interpretation of the character by the author. 

Setting that apart the story is magnificently chartered and beautifully distributed across, Mumbai, Vienna and the Middle-East and a handful of well-placed characters. The highest point for the story is its unpredictability which is well supplemented and supported by Ravi's characters. The Bankster is a recommended read by me and is much more than just a financial thriller, the mystery and action adds flavour to the whole story.

I give The Bankster by Ravi Subramanian a rating of : 3 out of 5

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