Book Review : The Cuckoo's Calling by Robert Galbraith

How relevant is the humane-ness of the detective in a mystery thriller. Be it Sir Doyle's Mr Sherlock Holmes or Miss Christie's Miss Marple or Mister Poirot, They all seem rather the fictional and idolized images of the divinity of justice than the human detective. They are never explored for their emotions but they are celebrated for their cognitive reasoning. 

I wonder, had miss Rowling not put the truth about her being Robert Galbraith and not trust a hefty and unfair comparison upon mister Strike from Master Potter, Mister Galbraith would have gone to be celebrated as one of the finest detectives of this era and worthy to be placed in comparison with any of his fellow detectives. Unlike them he has a character, he has a humanity about him that the others lack. He sounds one among us rather than one among the angels of justice.

What seems now be seen is whether there will come another installment in the life of Mr Strike and whether he will rise to become a series or shall the competition from the fantastical Potter and his band of wizard become too much and Would Mr Strike suffer a terrible death or even worse a demise of character. I shudder to think whether this publicity stunt would have unwittingly spelled the end of what would have been a fine detective series and a success by its own credit.

The one thing that I again and again say that I find unique to Rowling's writing is the sense of character she has bothered to give Mr Strike without compromising on the mystery though tried and tested as it has always been in the genre.

I would happily recommend the book as one of the finest mysteries I have ever read and when not viewed in the glitz and glamour of Potter, Mr Strike is a superior detective and a fine example of Miss Rowling Literary and Creative skills. Though slow to catch on the book itself is interesting, captivating and addictive.

The Memoirs of a Dream

Yesterday

Hi Honey!

What are you doing ?

Nothing dear. Nothing at all.

Then why did you close your laptop when I came in?

Oh! Hmm... Just like that. I thought you were saying something.

Don't think I am a fool. I have been seeing you for a long time now. In fact I know you from such an young age. Tell me what were you doing in you laptop and why did you close it when I came in.

I told you its nothing, It was just some job related stuff.

Hmm... Don't tell me you were watching...

NOOO! I promised you right, I don't watch it now a days.

Show me!

Oh! so now you don't trust me at all? right I should have known such a day will come. I knew it ever since I married you and even before that when I was in love with you. But why dear? Why?

Oh! Honey, I didn't mean to hurt you.

I know but....

I am sorry honey, Do one thing I will get you your favorite coffee and will watch news with you. Okay?

You will do that much for me?

Do you want more sugar or not?

I do, I do. 

*gasp* Phewwww.

Three days before

Arun, Help me out buddy.

What happened now?

Nothing happened but if I don't do something now, Something definitely will happen to me.

Did you promise Ammu something and then not do it?

Not exactly, But our first wedding anniversary is just around the corner and I have nothing at all planned.

He He. Oh god! you are done for.

Dude!

Okay, Okay. Hmm let me think ... I think you should do something special.

Yeah! I don't need you to tell me that? :P

Do you want my help or what?

I do, Do continue Maharaj.

Why don't you go on a holiday?

I wish I could take her abroad, you know she has never been any where outside India

Of course I know that idiot.

But that would be too costly, especially when its so near by.

Why don't you try www.yatha.com, I think John was telling that it is a beautiful website and things come cheap online these days.

But how do we know? I mean can we trust them.

Good John is here why dont you ask him directly.    Arre! John. Do come here.

We will ask him about the details and he would know more about it.

Hi! 

Hi!

Hey Guys! 

John, Arvind wants to go on a trip and I was just telling about the wonderful time you had with yathra.com. Why don't you give him the details.

Oh about that! It was such a wonderful time, We went to Thailand and we booked a package through yathra.com. Such a good service they gave and everything was taken care of.  I started by...

After one Month

Me and my wife, walked out of the Changi Airport for the first time in our lives. Our heart was beating so fast as the moment we have waited for a long time has come at last. I had promised my girl friend once in our college days that I shall take her to Singapore and today I was making it happen.Finally I had kept my promise after all these years. And for her it was her childhood dream that was about to come true. She had always wanted to step into the world of gardens and beautiful streets that had donned her magazine clippings. The places she so heartily carried in her little heart for years together. Just as we were stepping out into the city, she clinged to my had and her eyes were fixed on the arrival gate. There was a mix of anxiety and wonder in her face., Her eyes were dancing and I could hear her heart beating. Together we walked slowly and carefully to the entrance of our dreams.

Five days later

We were back at the the amazing concrete city in itself they call the Changi Airtport once again. We were once again moving slowly through the gigantic path ways, if it was because of anxiety and excitement we were slow up on arrival, it was out of reluctance to return to the real world from this dream that was slowing us now. The last few days were splendid,from the flamboyant rooms in the expensive pan pacific to the opulence of spicy south Asian cuisine from Chinatown. The rich and vibrant colours and the flaming dragons that adorn the very nature of Singapore. The beautiful parks and the many hours spent staring at the beautiful harbor. Te mesmerizing esplanade and the walks through its many gallerias. The nights in its busy streets and the coziness of having her in my arms. This much needed trip has not just refreshing but did also rekindled our love in many ways that imaginable. There is so much to thank yathra.com for, but not the least of them is the amazing offers that they gave, which made our dream a reality.

This post has been written for the "Creating Happy Travellers!" Contest by http://www.yatra.com/ in Indiblogger.in.

A Girl in the Morning

“Molle…, Wake up, it’s already past 8’o clock” came the shrill angried voice from downstairs.

There was a murmur that followed but she did not catch that neither was she bothered to. She was lying on her bed with her eyes fixed on the ceiling, there was an old rickety fan spinning and suddenly she was conscious of its rhythmic noise. She wondered whether it always sounded so mechanic and artificial. Soon her thoughts shifted to the day, it was a day she was long waiting for, she did not know whether to be happy today or to be sad, but she definitely was anticipating the day for some time now. This time tomorrow…

Her brief reverie was broken by her mother’s voice again, this time it sounded closer, louder and angrier. She decided that it is time to move on and reluctantly moved out of her bed with great pain and visible stress. She longed to be back in the bed, the bed that has for always been a solace to her, A friend who was their when she was getting cold and when she was sad. Her longing was only aided by the fact that the bed looked so warm and cozy in the chilly winter morning. She looked out of her open window and she could see the brief outline of mountains far away, clad in mist. Her own little garden was looking beautiful today.

Lazily she walked in to her bathroom and started searching for her brush; she found it in its usual place and slowly pressed out a bead of tooth paste on to her brush. She took a deep breath and started brushing, in one giant leap of energy after some thorough and well-practiced moves she was done with the brushing. She washed her mouth and threw a handful of water at her face. As the water receded from her face and as she opened her eyes, she found herself staring at her reflection. The next instant she was lost to this world once again.

She was beautiful, her eyes were big and suited her face, in another face it would have been ugly but not on hers, they were simply made for her. Eyes moved over every feature in her face and slowly rested on her nose, she had a pointy nose and on her small faced looked pointier. She gave out an involuntary chuckle as she remembers him teasing her about her nose. He always teased her and she would always turn her face away from him and pretend to be offended. It was just one of the many quirks they entertained. 

Yes! He, he was the reason for today’s dilemma. She knew she was to be sad today but for some reason she was not and even felt guilty sometimes for feeling excited and happy thinking about today.  She would reach there by tomorrow and he would be there, h would shake hands with her father and smile at her mother and skillful avoid her only to stare at her a moment later. He was such a sucker when it came to her, stupid almost always. There was a smile slowly creeping on her face and colour flooded her small cheeks. She wondered whether he would notice that she had become a lot healthier these days and her bony appearance was replaced with a healthy pinkish glow. She though he might, and he would be happy seeing that too. She wondered how he would look, she had seen him on Skype a million times but she wondered how ...

She suddenly stopped and started feeling guilty for feeling too happy today, she should be feeling sad not happy. She was to leave her parents today and go to Chennai by the evening train. She quickly finished and steadied herself, she took and deep breath and exhaled sharply. 

Moments later the door in the mirror snapped and closed, but her breath was still left on the tiny mirror slowly evaporating and moving away. It would be sometime before she would come in the mirror. The mist slowly turned to dew and tickled down the mirror, For a moment it almost looked as if the mirror was crying.

This post has been written for the "The Character" Contest by Harper Collins in Indiblogger.in

In association with Jacob Hills.

Why do we Ditch a Book by Goodreads

So some time back Goodreads.com came up with a very interesting info graphics as to why we ditch certain books like we do.

So when I came across it I knew I had to republish it here. There are two benefits, , firstly I can get one article published for a pence worth of effort and secondly you guys who have not scene it before can get to see it. Though I would insist that the second one is my prime intent, I know none of you would believe me. But guys really that was the case and it did not have anything to do with the apathetic state of my creative part of my brain.

Thanks to the good people at Goodreads :)

Forever a Malayalli

Under the green trees whose shadows she rested I grew up playing, in the very rain that drenched her I bathed, by the bank of the many rivers that nourished her I learned of heritage and culture. She was the mother that I seldom had, the father that I longed, a friend that I cherish. She was everything that I wanted and she is everything that I am. The life that I lived every second of every hour I lived in her cradle is the life that I ever want to know and wherever in the vast expanse of the globe destiny decides to take me my roots are forever claimed and every moment lived is but an attempt to be back in my mother’s lap. 

The spicy scent of the wet land, my grandmother is to say that beautiful scent was mother earth burping with satisfaction after her thirst has been quenched. How beautiful it smelled, like the scent of fresh Thulsi leaves. How beautiful was it too see the dark monsoon clouds come rolling in from the sky, It was said that the clouds had the colour of lord Krishna and just like the little Krishna they brought great joy along with them. My Kerala, My mother was a beautiful sight to see when she was drenched in his blessings. Everywhere there was just the vast expanse of green and from every leaf dripped many a million drops of rain. The trees rained down after the clouds and as a little child, dressed in nothing but a little black tread by waste I would go below the many creepers that grew in our garden and give it a shake. I would squeal with delight as the cold droplets hit my then tender body and I would smile with absolute pleasure. Of course I was too young to remember it then but my lovely grandmother had painted for me such vibrant pictures of my childhood that somehow they seem more part of my memory than a part of her narration. Everytime I think of those moments I feel them, the emotions of the little me rather just a detached memory.

I remember though the many hours I have stood by the many windows, each time a new one and watched the endless rain and I remember being overjoyed at the mere sight of it. To me each drop of rain now is a part of my mother and her endless beauty. They in their watery way tie me down to the land and the land in its muddy way tie me down to the sky and. They together in their symphony tie me down to my mother. There in that adobe of love I started talking root and every monsoon my roots grew just that much larger and deeper and tied me down a little more to the land. 

There is not a day I don’t dream of going back to her, I have not been too far from her yet every moment spent away from her is sheer agony and the desire is that much more deeper. My mother had loved me and I have loved her back just as much, the truth is you never realize how much you love them but at the moments you spent away from her. Rain and monsoon are that much deep rooted in me and every one of my memories does have a tinge of it somewhere. Be it the times I stared at the rain from the safety of the local sweet stall clinching to my grandfather’s hands or be it the moments I have immersed myself in the bliss as it fell down over me. Even when I grew up I was in love with the rain and every chance I get to be with her, I took, every excuse I could make to be with her I have made. I love the rain and the land after the rain. I love the land before that rain that is both ominous and sensational. The thunder and the lightning, the cold and freezing breeze that comes just before the rain and then as the drum roll reaches its finale you hear the hear, the sizzle before she comes and rains down on you.

How could I be anything but her beloved son, How could I ever dream of having a mother that is not her, a home that is not hers. I belong there I belong in her lap and I am to be at home curled up in her laps and listening to her wonderful stories and dream of the wonderful world that it draws in my mind. I belong to her both in this life and the next, I came from her and into her wet soil I must return as ash. In her many rivers must I lay my final rest and in her lap I must lie dead the same way I was born into hers. Forever I will be hers, A malayali.