The Bad Touch by Payal Shah Karwa

Child sexual abuse as a serious topic is seldom talked about in the coffee tables of present day society. Lately there has been a conscious effort to bring about a change in this very aspect of society. To bring to these tables of open discussion the topics and taboos that have been destroying many a lives in silence so far. The book The Bad Touch by Payal Shah Karwa is yet another significant stride in bringing about this much awaited and much delayed change in our society. The author attempts to being this topic to the public eyes as subtly as possible.

Filled with staggering and astonishing facts and numbers that question your very understanding of the world around you, fails miserably in keeping it subtle, irrespective of the authors best intentions and her best efforts towards that very goal. The books ends up spewing the facts about this venomous misfortunes that fall on more than half the country's juvenile population. Payal Shah Karwa through several examples and life stories of several influential people and the many astonishing survivors of child sexual abuse and there struggle attempts to bust the myths surrounding this evil. 

Understandably the greatest danger to the children of this great nation is the crimes committed against then when they are incapable of understanding it or are too weak to resist such advances. The stories are gruesome, as vulgar and repulsive as the society instills it is yet they happen every day every hour. The books goes on to help people prevent it and lists steps to ensure that the the child is provided with an environment conducive to detect such avails at it's infancy and mediate it effectively. Her stories through its characters strive in inculcate the ability to survive the tragedy and aims to provide a conducive atmosphere to do so.

I recommend this book as an essential read to any parents thinking of bringing an unsuspecting child into this vile world. The book facilitates easy understanding and that is key to mitigate such happenings and it's effective countering. Then again this book is not for the faint of heart who would prefer to live through this world by turning a blind eye towards its stark realities.

Buy at Amazon.in : The Bad Touch: The True story of Harish Iyer

Author Connects @ Pages off Life

In association with Payal Shah Karwa. 

The Mark of Democracy

Just voted for a new government in India. I hope this time its a charm.

They could have put the ink more beautifully, but its not how it looks but what it means that matter.

Photographing The President

The President being photographed is not any president but a 3500 year old one. The President tree is the giant sequoia located in the Giant Forest of Sequoia National Park in the United States, California. It is not the tallest giant sequoia tree in the world (75 m), but it is the third largest tree in the world.  

The tree until now had never been photographed completely. A team of photographers from National Geographic and scientists from the Sequoia National Park to be the first to accomplish that feat. if you look carefully you can see the tiny scientists among the branches and leafs of the giant tree. I myself could find four of them, you are welcome to find more if you can.

Courtesy : National Geographic Society

12 Years a Slave by Solomon Northup

From The Life of William Grimes to the slave narratives of Frederick Douglass and Harriet Jacobs, slavery in fiction and reality is not something thats easily digestible to the modern man, it makes him flinch with disgust and the details churns his stomach in ways detestable. 12 Years a slave is the autobiography of a freeman, who was kidnapped and sold into slavery and redeemed 12 years later. Solomon Northrup lived in a time of great turmoil (which eventually culminated in the American Civil War) when the american consciousness was torn between freedom and slavery, with the southern states supporting strongly the institution of slavery and the northern states strongly condemning the devilish practice. What happened of it is a matter of history and of little importance to the book.

Solomon Northup was born to a freeman and spent his childhood working in his fathers farm, later he went on to move to Minerva after his marriage. The rest of the particulars of his life again is academic in nature now. He was a carpenter by profession, an educated, trained and unsuspecting man, who was lured by two strangers with the promise of a more rewarding job and then sold into slavery in the slave pens of New Orleans. The one thing that differentiated this man from the rest of the slaves around him was the fact that he knew what freedom meant, a fact that he had to conceal cleverly due to the fear of punishment and torture.

Solomon's narrative of his on experience as a slave is mostly objective but it brims with a feeling of distance towards the whole of life. His need or desire to be as much away from the most torturous 12 years of his life is easily reflected in his writing. Its neither flowery nor flaunting oratory of any nature, just an observation of what he had to endure and how he did so. His account of life he saw happen around hims and what it meant to him. The most wonderful thing about Solomon's narrative is that he didn't demonize the villains in his story, they were definitely villains but he reserved crude judgements to a very appreciable degree. 

The book '12 years a slave' by Solomon Northup is a good old slave narrative that objectively illustrates the life of a slave and his livelihood through the eyes of a freeman that he was. The book offers a clear perspective into the working of the institution of slavery and explains why the masters behaved as they did and for what end. Solomon explains that not all his masters were cruel and each had his own on way getting what they wanted form his slaves, from treated them a little as men and others terrified them. some gave them little comforts and rewards others gave them nothing and kept them that way.

Buy your copy at Amazon.in 

In association with 'Pirates' A Publishing House.

One Liners #001 : Happiness and Dreams

"One Pays for the Happiness of his Dearest with his Dearest of Dreams." 

The Adorable Kittens by Anand

More pictures from my brother of his adorable kittens who are unfortunately no more.

The adorable kittens photographed by brother, the Ansel Adams of our clan.

The Man Who Took the Train to Pakistan

It is always a sad and unfortunate event that a wordsmith of his caliber must pass away but as the inherent nature of things goes one who is born must one day die. He doesn't have anything to complain about though for he got a pretty long quantum of quality life. The very best any man can do is to leave a mark on the face of earth and be remembered and be alive through history. The honorable Khushwant Singh, the man with much malice has did just that, he may have left his body and unified with the ultimate but a part of him he left in each one us, each one of us who had enjoyed his jokes and cherished his Train to Pakistan or The Company of Women. 

The first book I read of his was hood book of jokes, they were all hilarious and one's whose humor you could savor for a long time after the first reading. Much later did I come across his prime jewel 'The Train to Pakistan', to read that book was an entirely different and surreal experience. A book that brought out the reality of partition and the things it left broken in its wake. The least of his books that I read was 'The Company of Women' and yet again a different book, one that me to look at things differently of what the company of an women meant to me. 

Shri Khushwant Singh Ji had touched me in his own unique way and his literature and his ideology of vocal and objective expression of difference has influenced me a lot in my journey. There was a time I wished I could meet him and get his autograph, but that will never be I guess. Yesterday India lost one of it's very best writer and columnist and I grieve along with the nation at our combined loss. 

The Love Diet by Shonali Sabherwal

The very first impression of The Love Diet by Shonali Sabherwal india's best nutritionologist was of disappointment as the book was of questionable quality. Considering that it comes with a 250 Indian rupee price tag ( that's approximately a little now than 4 US dollars), I was disappointed at the off white or rather brownish paper and the less than premium front cover that the book featured. The paper brightness severely affects and compromises the readability and the feel of the book.  What surprised me further is the fact that the book came from the stables of a globally reputed publishing house such as Random House. The book reflects very badly on them a degree greater than it does on anyone else.

But then again a book must not be judged by it's cover or it's paper quality alone but by the quality of the matter it's pages contain. Ms Shonali starts off with a lengthy description of the eastern history of medicine and it's many interpretations be it the yin and yang from China or the chakras from India. She goes on to elaborate the need for balance of forces and how food can achieve it and how food can in turn affect and alter your essential balance. Now history and information is good but where it goes out of hand is when it lasts for almost two thirds of the book and that's when it borders and then slowly crosses into rhetoric. She goes on and on about the nature of relationships and out of place rhetorics about mind and body and the healing power of the soul. Almost always they are the things that we are constantly hearing. But she does have some interesting sections of popular myth busting and much needed classifications on food habits.

The 130 page rhetoric lecture does finally  move into the much awaited section on recipes of love and healing. Some them are quite interesting and not mention extremely delicious and mouth watering even on paper.  Fascinating. If you ask me this is what I will say as the most appealing part of the whole book is to me. This is what the book was about and what all the drum roll led up-to. But again here  I feel that much more could have been done. Brief descriptions of how the recipe works and why it's a love dish could have be more promising and useful than all of the 130 page rhetoric on things that already everyone knows and nobody gives a damn about.

My final verdict for the book is simple, it's not all a waste of money and effort. But at the same time much more could have be done to make the book a far better one. Frankly the book just feels out of place in it's avatar, its a coffee book trapped in a textbook. Random house turned what is clearly a coffee table book containing a lot of colorful dishes and their recipes complete with short meaningful descriptions of how they enhance you and your love into pages and pages of bubbling rhetoric on a less than impressive packaging.

The Best of 200

This would be the 201th post (to be precise) I write during a long and very eventful life as a blogger spanning little than half a decade. When I started my blog with a very small, ill thought out introduction of myself (The link to "An Intro" if you are really curious) I never thought I would reach here and more importantly I would hold onto this passion for long. There were times I was lost and times I forgot the blog altogether, but like every time life took me places there was something deep within me that longed to be back. It always felt a sense of belonging here, within the pages of my blogs.

There were some wonderful times and there were some times of despair, but I kept and it and it has rewarded me, not with page views and meaningless numbers but with some unique and special friends. Just knowing that they are there to read what I write makes me want to write better, they have themselves unknowingly became my beloved muse and my gifted critics. I submit my achievement to you guys (you know who you are).

There below is the best of my very best as what my readers like in the order they like. Curious thing though The post no 50 I published to celebrate my 50th post years ago happens to be one among them. Oh and I do have a couple of favorites in the lot too. First being 731 Days of Frivolous Love and So She Came and So She Went.

Thank you my dear friends, critics, acquaintances and occasional trespassers, Thank you all, I would never have achieved this without you all, quite literally. 

By the way I will write one more post when I complete my 5th year of blog writing.

731 Days of Frivolous Love Aug 22, 2012,
The Amazon Interview Process Jul 29, 2012,
Date a Girl Who Reads Oct 7, 2012,
My Love with Fractals Sep 15, 2012,
Post No : 50 Nov 8, 2011,
The Nights of the Firefly Jul 3, 2012,
I am Awesome! Apr 19, 2012,
So she came and So she went : My fist love Jun 17, 2011,
The Discovery of a Friend May 9, 2012,
Nilambur : In the Teak Lands Jan 5, 2012,

A Castle full of Books

Courtesy : ArchitecturalDesign 

Over the hills and above the winds, far beyond the citadels of heaven. In a land of transcential tranquility and ever lasting peace lies my perfect little castle. Up in theses heavens of mind, through giant wooden doors and winding paths ever so long stands my perfect little castle. Over the lush country meadows and overlooking celestial gardens stands my perfect little castle. One that is made not of the finest granite but yet is embellished in celestial opulence. Casted in iron and furnished with english brown oak, smelling of the sweet rustic aroma of aged paper and ink. In wooden shelves so high and written works so mighty, stands clinging to each a wall, a million books and its eternal thoughts. my perfect little castle, abode to my perfect little dream.

Show you around this magnificent castle in my dreams I shall, but of all the rooms of one is all I ever dream. Past the grand halls and its antique chandeliers, past the winding stairs and the dimly lit path ways, lies the room of my dreams. With ceilings so high that the stars could peek through and windows through which clouds could come and go. On its windows lashes the rains of many years and in its hearth kindles the great fire of knowledge itself. Smelling of paper and ink, the musk of the intellectual heart and filled with aroma of the wisdom of all ages.  In its centre amidst the many piles of books lies a little chair, one that is cosy and one that is warm. It is here where I sit and bask in the glory of my splendid dream. Sitting there with a steaming cup of coffee at my arms length, a book in my arms and cuddled into the heart of the cushions is I.

There are tall wooden shelves everywhere, each with a million books and ladders that can reach the skies. With a mahogany desk for me to write and many a quills of thousand plumage for my thoughts to flow through. With the flickering light of my hearth I read, like in the time of a greater awakening. When giants of words roamed the land and ideas with wings began to fly. This is where I place the fireman's nightmare, this where I dream my dream in a time in past when many a legends graced the the land. This is my dream, my perfect dream, my dream of my  perfect little castle. 

This is my dream, my perfect dream, my dream of my perfect little castle, little castle of the books.

As part of IndiSpire : An initiative by IndiBlogger

Achilles and the Tortoise

I have many varied interests, some of them you know, Some of them I know, some I dare not admit to myself and some may well forever remain unidentified. But of all of them one is a curious liking to obscure paradoxes. I like the inconclusivity of them, the sheer reluctance of them to conclude to something, the ambiguity they persists and the infinite admiration that it invokes. Be it the time travelers paradox that effectively renders him a silent spectator of ages past or the Achilles paradox pointed out by the greek philosopher Zeno that is so obviously untrue yet mathematics require obscure concepts to prove it so. I take pride in the fact that these concepts are elusive and obscure to many it makes sense to me.

Now the paradox of Achilles I'd something that captured my imagination for sometime now, I will let my readers enjoy and revel in it's magnificence while I go and pen down something worth while.

In the paradox of Achilles and the Tortoise, Achilles is in a footrace with the tortoise. Achilles allows the tortoise a head start of 100 metres, for example. If we suppose that each racer starts running at some constant speed (one very fast and one very slow), then after some finite time, Achilles will have run 100 metres, bringing him to the tortoise's starting point. During this time, the tortoise has run a much shorter distance, say, 10 metres. It will then take Achilles some further time to run that distance, by which time the tortoise will have advanced farther; and then more time still to reach this third point, while the tortoise moves ahead. Thus, whenever Achilles reaches somewhere the tortoise has been, he still has farther to go. Therefore, because there are an infinite number of points Achilles must reach where the tortoise has already been, he can never overtake the tortoise.

PS : I was so lazy that I effectively copied the while definition of this paradox outright from Wikipedia.

The Rise of the Sun Prince - Shubha Vilas

The Rise of the Sun Prince by Shubha Vilas is essentially the part one (Bala Kanda) of the indian scripture Ramayana as written by the sage Valmiki, mixed with a few anecdotes and embellishments from the Kamba Ramayana (another version of the sacred text). I am not here to write a commentary on the scripture, it has been returned way too many times. As far as my review of Ramayana goes I will just for a line from this book. "Ramayana is not a book, it is a way of life".

Unlike the numerous renditions of the epic out there, what makes this one stand out is a set of essential yet simple qualities. The book is simple yet elaborate, the story is decomposed just enough for the casual reader to understand and yet it is sophisticated enough to prevent itself from being turned into yet another soulless recital. Vilas has added more than enough description and commentary to the age old tale that at times it's just annoying to see the sheer volume of his commentary wrestling out the epic out of it's own pages.

The story is retold with much detail and sans boring rhetoric. This is not a book for serious and concerned study of Ramayana, but it is all you would want if the aim is to reread the fables or just to tell your kids the famous bedtime story of India. This is the book that you could want your children to read if you want them to be part of that wonderful world of kings, queens and the many many adventures that you were once part of.

This book comes with a rather colorful front- page and spills on to about 250 pages. Jaico does a good job with the packaging and delivers the content for a sum of 250 Indian rupees (that's hardly 4 dollars and odd cents). yep books in India are rather cheap. My verdict is that it's a good book to have for your kids to read and for you to casually brush up the story.

Buy a copy from Amazon.in

Disclaimer : The above review of The Rise of the Sun Prince by Shubha Vilas has been written in association with Jaico Publishing House. 

The Fault in our Stars by John Green

The book is unarguably beautiful but what is more beautiful is the untrained idea of death that is portrayed. Make no mistake this book is first and foremost about death and death alone, it talks of no survivors nor of martyrs. It takes of death as is. It talks of death as not having neither a prequel nor an epilogue bit one that is abrupt and harkens in the midst of life. It talks of that death that is quick, comes unannounced and interrupts life in it's track. Beautiful and realistic. 

This book is a crier, it's a book on cancer and it odd meant to be a crier. It touches you and leaves in it's wake a mark. It talks of a life in the verge of collapse and the struggle to be alive. It is the story of Hazel and Augustus and their unlikely romance, but it's not entirely a love story. It talks of their struggle with cancer but it's not a cancer book. It tasks of their family and the living and the subtle relationship they hold with the dying, their agony, their helplessness and their devastation but it's not just about it either. This book is about death and about dying and never about living.

It paints one of the best portrait of death i have read. This story of a star crossed cancer carrying couple and their enthrall eventual death. Thankfully the author does give the user some reprieve and doesn't abruptly stops his book like in the end of An Imperial Affliction by Houtten a frictional book but still it trails of in the midst but not before closure is delivered.

I rate this a four for all the buckets it filled with my tears and for the beautiful panorama of death it inscribes.

Amazon : The Fault in our Stars by John Green: 

The Last Love

+Amrutha T  was not the first girl I loved. If she had been I might never have realized how special she is. In a way all my past failures were a prequel for this moment of truth. A series of necessary failures for making the one right choice.

The Simple Pleasures of Life

And to think I got to eat this all myself.

Belgium Bliss @ Baskin Robbins

PS : I love you and all but not that much I guess. +Amrutha

Forever yours...

The pursuit of love is a never an easy one, many search all their life for the one thing that they have read about in poems and prose in vain. Many lose heart and sadly many more lose hope in their pursuit of the love but sadder still is the lives of men who settle for much less than what have searched for.

Love the platonic love ( love has to be platonic there is no other way any other is but a compromise of the nature I foretold) is never easily found, for if it where easy and abundantly available what value would it ever hope to possess. The very fact that love is praised and priced would only mean that it is exquisite in nature and magnificent in existence. One has to born to the star of great luck, on ones birth the gods must have smiled for him to find what he seek and forever perish in the holy union of what was ones severed by Apollo himself. I believe now that I am one such soul, inadvertantly lucky.

In your arms I find peace for the whole world melts into heaven in a place so holy as that. Against your bosom my heartbeats newly into thine in one melodious symphony of life. In your lips dies I and reborn I am as the prophet of love only to die an infinite times more and be born again every time a bit wiser a bit less blind. You are to me the creator and the destroyer of worlds and when we are one, us is infinite you and I are infinite we are infinite. Forever yours.

In this hour when our families have embarked together on a journey that will forever bind their destinies as a shared heritage. I prophess my love you renewed and as blazing as ever.

I am declaring our inevitable engagement now, details and time and date will follow suit in due time and with due diligence.

An Year in Happiness

Ever since I started this year I was looking forward to take up some kind of project, something for my blog. I took up the good treats challenge and to an extent play I played it safe. But now they no longer satisfy me. I am perennially bored and uninspired, what I need is a breast of fresh air. I am in a grave need for a task to look forward to, something hot but at the same time fruitful something to remember this year by. 

The first thing I date what's up my stakes in the good-reads challenge to a 100 books this year. I managed 82 last years and that was not so easy and this year it is going to bite my arse off. Now that's what I call a good challenge. But somehow that doesn't seem good enough; I need something, something more to push myself. I need something to push me over the edge of comfort and into the abysmal oblivion that the unknown presents. I think that is what I need a leap of faith.

That’s when I came across the 365 challenge, Its pretty simple really, post every day for the rest of the year. Okay that sounds simple enough, but in practice its yet another matter. Who am I kidding by proclaiming that I can do that, I know I cant. To do a post a day I would have to end up posting pictures of random cats, cars and what not (no offence to the ones that do it by the way, I am sure its definitely not desperation that motivates you to do that). So that is not going to happen. 

After that I arrived at the Happiness Project (Its surprising how many odd challenges you can find out there at this time of the year), yet another 365 days challenge that is more focused for that matter. The purpose of this one is to post continuously for the next 365 days and to make sure that every day you post about one thing that makes you happy. Truly I liked this one but I figured it would curtail my literary freedom. Its pretty much like accepting that for the next year that’s all I am going to do. 

Finally I arrived at something that I figured is worthwhile and it involves a bit of both and none of both. I though I would do a customized Happiness Project and I thought I would make it a personal choice and challenge rather than just a blog challenge. I thought or rather I decided that I will be happy this year and the blog will reflect that. I thought I will dedicate this year to happiness and resolve that whatever post that I post in this blog this year, no matter now sinister and disdain I will make the ending happy and tinted with hope. An easy challenge on the blog front and at the same time a very difficult challenge on the personal front.