To quote Maanik Mulla, 'A writer who worries about technique is one who has no clue what to write.' And yet, as I read Dharamveer Bharti's 'Suraj ka Saatva Ghoda' and watched Shyam Benegal's sublime rendition of it on celluloid, I found myself applauding both the technique and the content of Bharti.
About the technique first - this is the only attempt I have read/seen of writing a full-length novel piecemeal in the form of quite separate short stories! Yeah, each short story can stand by itself although when you look at the consolidated whole the novel emerges delicately, almost subtly. In Maanik Mulla, Bharti creates a narrator par excellence who links these short stories almost imperceptibly - by himself, just like beads of a necklace are linked by the thread running through them.
And the theme? Why it's love itself! Maanik Mulla would like you to think it's about how economic constraints dictate to love. But more appropriately, the story deals with what is not love. Or what love should not be. The love of Jamuna and Tanna? Jamuna and Maanik? Jamuna and her elderly husband? Jamuna and Ramdhan? Moving away from Jamuna, what about the love between Lily and Maanik? And what indeed about Satti and Maanik?
As he exposes how these characters react to love or what they think is love, Bharti takes time to expose his characters to us. Each character emerges with a depth and dimension that is thought-provoking. Case in points - the raw, earthy, heart-stopping sincerity of Satti who fights for her honour and is hurt not by rape but by betrayal........the pitiable selfishness and restlessness of the apparently promiscuous Jamuna in the wake of her failure in love...the bibliophile Lily whose love begins and ends in literature and whose pride yields her a child at the cost of a husband...the sensitive friend of Maanik in whose mind Maanik's stories create visions that make an author of him....Tanna, who jerks pity from your heart for the lamb-like helplessness of his succumbing nature.....Chaman Thakur, who only took pity on an Afghani orphan girl so he could sell her off when she grew up......
All these characters are actually part of the same full-length novel. But Bharti divides their stories into separate ones - each story overlapping the other - each story hinting at the other - each story looking at the others from a new angle...until finally at the end the kaleidoscope merges to show one pattern...
Shyam Benegal's take on the book is so honest and so beautiful it makes you want to pinch yourself so you'll know it's no dream. The transition from book to movie is so effortless that I could make out no difference in the tenor. Especially the camera effects in the motion picture bring out the inherent linkages between the stories more poignant, more outlined. Several scenes and dialogues are repeated albeit from different camera angles. Scenes missing from one story are suddenly found in the middle of another. The actors act awesomely. The music becomes the motion picture and could well have been the part of the book itself. And the climax is something the book could have appended to itself.
Bus....that is about all I reveal of this mesmerizing piece of literature. Saying a word more will spoil the fun.
Showing posts with label Book Reviews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book Reviews. Show all posts
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Saturday, October 18, 2008
The Kite Runner
One of the most popular books of late...a Khaled Hosseini debut creation which topped the best-seller lists.
I am afraid I have read a lot!
Probably that is why I finished this novel with the disappointment of an itching-to-fight snake meeting a dull little mongoose.
Take away the backdrop of strife-ridden Afghanistan and what do you get? (In fact, if one does not take away the Taliban backdrop the tales of monstrous terror are not very different from the newspaper/channel reports.)
An almost expected story with almost anticipated twists. The familiar threads of love-hate father-son relationship... of a weakling coming to terms with his infirmity in due course of time....of the way time turns tables on mortals.... and of poetic justice bordering on melodrama...especially this last irks a little. A treble dose of destiny coming round to give each what he deserves in a word-perfect, picture-perfect manner is unnatural to say the least!
Even the ending fails to stir the reader's interest. The worst thing anyone can do to his literary creation is to make the ending predictable - which is precisely what happens here.
At one or two points I had this feeling too that the book had perhaps missed an editing effort by the author. Ah, no. That'd be too much....must be just a feeling on my part...
Too much of trashing? OopS! :-P
The book has its moments. They come while describing the local colour. The Afghan culture is so rich and beautiful, its realistic portrayal using original words from the author's native language make for one of the best USPs of The Kite Runner. Go for it if you are curious about what an Afghan has to write about Afghanistan - this curiosity made it a best-seller after all. :-)
I am afraid I have read a lot!
Probably that is why I finished this novel with the disappointment of an itching-to-fight snake meeting a dull little mongoose.
Take away the backdrop of strife-ridden Afghanistan and what do you get? (In fact, if one does not take away the Taliban backdrop the tales of monstrous terror are not very different from the newspaper/channel reports.)
An almost expected story with almost anticipated twists. The familiar threads of love-hate father-son relationship... of a weakling coming to terms with his infirmity in due course of time....of the way time turns tables on mortals.... and of poetic justice bordering on melodrama...especially this last irks a little. A treble dose of destiny coming round to give each what he deserves in a word-perfect, picture-perfect manner is unnatural to say the least!
Even the ending fails to stir the reader's interest. The worst thing anyone can do to his literary creation is to make the ending predictable - which is precisely what happens here.
At one or two points I had this feeling too that the book had perhaps missed an editing effort by the author. Ah, no. That'd be too much....must be just a feeling on my part...
Too much of trashing? OopS! :-P
The book has its moments. They come while describing the local colour. The Afghan culture is so rich and beautiful, its realistic portrayal using original words from the author's native language make for one of the best USPs of The Kite Runner. Go for it if you are curious about what an Afghan has to write about Afghanistan - this curiosity made it a best-seller after all. :-)
Mritunjay - An Ode to the Son of Sun
To
Mr. Shivaji Sawant
Author - Mrutunjay (Marathi)
Subject - Belated felicitations for creating pure magic on paper
Dear Sir,
Please accept my meager and insufficient admiration for bringing alive Karna, and giving him the apt title of 'The Death Conqueror'.
Take a bow, Sir!
Yours sincerely,
A completely bowled over reader
***************************************************************************
If Mahabharata is a deep, deep ocean then Karna is a boat caught in a tempest, riding its waves. Or perhaps a golden whale caught in a giant web of fate, fighting all his life to break free and show the world its beauty.
The Daanveer Karna, The Warrior Karna, The Kavach-kundaldhari Karna, and yet, the ultimate Underdog Karna, the Ill-fated Karna, the Black-speckled Ray of Sun Karna...
It is this mystery of Karna that Mr. Sawant presents us with, in the form of first person narratives of Karna himself and those of his mother Kunti, his best friend Duryodhan, his wife Vrishali, his brother Shona, and finally of Sri Krishna himself.
The reader finds himself presented with a rare treat - that of a beautiful plot, equally well presented. Even though the plot is necessarily recumbent on the epic tale Mahabharata, Mr. Sawant deserves due credit for giving a larger dimension to the characters of Shona and Vrishali. Also for giving a mystic touch to the vibrations emanating from Sri Krishna towards our protagonist.
As to the beautiful presentation, the reader is sure to be bowled over by the imaginatively thought of metaphoric situations sprinkled generously through the pages. For example, Kunti is depicted as riding a five-horse chariot although the chariot has an empty position for a sixth horse - her reticence in leaving that position empty signifying her yen for her eldest-born. Or Karna being told about the cuckoo that lays her eggs in a crow's nest and his secondary reasoning that what mattered was the cuckoo's melody, not its place of rearing!
The tale begins with the soliloquy of a dead Karna, who deems it necessary to come back to life for the express purpose of telling us his saga - a saga of pathos, of self-doubt, of jealousy, of guilt, of innocence, of joy, of bravery, of perseverance, of sincerity, of truth and honesty, of an all-consuming charity - but above all the saga of a Winner who finally even conquers Death.
Mr. Sawant adroitly guides us through the confusing maze of the life of this hero...
Through the innocent childhood of the little Karna playing along the banks of Ganga with his beloved brother Shona and living in the simple hut of his loving foster parents.
To his adolescence, where he earns friends like Ashwatthama and Duryodhan as well as inexplicable and unintended contenders like Arjun and Bheem...
To his youth where he highlights his valour before the Kuru clan and becomes Angraj Karna and where he falls for the pretty, innocent Vrishali.
To his middle age where he suffers the loss of his first-born and his worst public insult at the hands of a woman.
To his advanced years, where he gives the biggest and noblest of 'daans' that no other character in Mahabharata had ever given and becomes Vakarnasen.
To that churning moment of his life, when he gets the answer to the most poignant and disturbing queries of his life - Who was he? Why had he those inexplicable kundals and that kavach? Why was he ever-fascinated by the Sun, the God of light who had sired and inspired him all along?
To the moment when he finally encounters his biological mother for the first time - here too, this hero amongst heroes forgives the one woman responsible for his tumultuous life and gives her the promise of not harming four of her legitimate sons.
And finally, to the end of his life, when the clouds of Indra's son Arjun finally shield the rays of the son of Sun that is portrayed in a manner most heart-wrenching.
What is admirable is the restraint that Mr. Sawant shows in portraying his Karna. Boldly, he makes no effort to over-glorify his idol. Boldly, he makes no effort to hide the blemishes on his golden character - in fact, he goes one step ahead and explains with a gifted eloquence the dilemma of a noble hero caught in a web of ignobility.
A few readers would perhaps crib about the liberties that Mr. Sawant has taken with the facts as stated in Vyasji's Mahabharata. But, I personally feel it is undue and unfair on their part! The conversion of the Kurus to Suryavanshis from Chandravanshis accentuates Karna's attachment to the Kuru flag, while Ashwatthama as the comrade of Karna and Duryodhan becomes a mouthpiece of Mr. Sawant to voice some of his most philosophical and at times utterly churning and enchanting thoughts.
Hollywood may have recently discovered its trend of finding the human side of the superheroes, but for Shivaji Sawant, its trodden territory. His Karna is the most human superman with whom everyone will identify. Easily.
Mr. Shivaji Sawant
Author - Mrutunjay (Marathi)
Subject - Belated felicitations for creating pure magic on paper
Dear Sir,
Please accept my meager and insufficient admiration for bringing alive Karna, and giving him the apt title of 'The Death Conqueror'.
Take a bow, Sir!
Yours sincerely,
A completely bowled over reader
***************************************************************************
If Mahabharata is a deep, deep ocean then Karna is a boat caught in a tempest, riding its waves. Or perhaps a golden whale caught in a giant web of fate, fighting all his life to break free and show the world its beauty.
The Daanveer Karna, The Warrior Karna, The Kavach-kundaldhari Karna, and yet, the ultimate Underdog Karna, the Ill-fated Karna, the Black-speckled Ray of Sun Karna...
It is this mystery of Karna that Mr. Sawant presents us with, in the form of first person narratives of Karna himself and those of his mother Kunti, his best friend Duryodhan, his wife Vrishali, his brother Shona, and finally of Sri Krishna himself.
The reader finds himself presented with a rare treat - that of a beautiful plot, equally well presented. Even though the plot is necessarily recumbent on the epic tale Mahabharata, Mr. Sawant deserves due credit for giving a larger dimension to the characters of Shona and Vrishali. Also for giving a mystic touch to the vibrations emanating from Sri Krishna towards our protagonist.
As to the beautiful presentation, the reader is sure to be bowled over by the imaginatively thought of metaphoric situations sprinkled generously through the pages. For example, Kunti is depicted as riding a five-horse chariot although the chariot has an empty position for a sixth horse - her reticence in leaving that position empty signifying her yen for her eldest-born. Or Karna being told about the cuckoo that lays her eggs in a crow's nest and his secondary reasoning that what mattered was the cuckoo's melody, not its place of rearing!
The tale begins with the soliloquy of a dead Karna, who deems it necessary to come back to life for the express purpose of telling us his saga - a saga of pathos, of self-doubt, of jealousy, of guilt, of innocence, of joy, of bravery, of perseverance, of sincerity, of truth and honesty, of an all-consuming charity - but above all the saga of a Winner who finally even conquers Death.
Mr. Sawant adroitly guides us through the confusing maze of the life of this hero...
Through the innocent childhood of the little Karna playing along the banks of Ganga with his beloved brother Shona and living in the simple hut of his loving foster parents.
To his adolescence, where he earns friends like Ashwatthama and Duryodhan as well as inexplicable and unintended contenders like Arjun and Bheem...
To his youth where he highlights his valour before the Kuru clan and becomes Angraj Karna and where he falls for the pretty, innocent Vrishali.
To his middle age where he suffers the loss of his first-born and his worst public insult at the hands of a woman.
To his advanced years, where he gives the biggest and noblest of 'daans' that no other character in Mahabharata had ever given and becomes Vakarnasen.
To that churning moment of his life, when he gets the answer to the most poignant and disturbing queries of his life - Who was he? Why had he those inexplicable kundals and that kavach? Why was he ever-fascinated by the Sun, the God of light who had sired and inspired him all along?
To the moment when he finally encounters his biological mother for the first time - here too, this hero amongst heroes forgives the one woman responsible for his tumultuous life and gives her the promise of not harming four of her legitimate sons.
And finally, to the end of his life, when the clouds of Indra's son Arjun finally shield the rays of the son of Sun that is portrayed in a manner most heart-wrenching.
What is admirable is the restraint that Mr. Sawant shows in portraying his Karna. Boldly, he makes no effort to over-glorify his idol. Boldly, he makes no effort to hide the blemishes on his golden character - in fact, he goes one step ahead and explains with a gifted eloquence the dilemma of a noble hero caught in a web of ignobility.
A few readers would perhaps crib about the liberties that Mr. Sawant has taken with the facts as stated in Vyasji's Mahabharata. But, I personally feel it is undue and unfair on their part! The conversion of the Kurus to Suryavanshis from Chandravanshis accentuates Karna's attachment to the Kuru flag, while Ashwatthama as the comrade of Karna and Duryodhan becomes a mouthpiece of Mr. Sawant to voice some of his most philosophical and at times utterly churning and enchanting thoughts.
Hollywood may have recently discovered its trend of finding the human side of the superheroes, but for Shivaji Sawant, its trodden territory. His Karna is the most human superman with whom everyone will identify. Easily.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Five Point Someone –Five out of Five!
The journey from boys to men has always been a fascinating subject in the world of literature, having entranced writers and readers alike. Chetan Bhagat treads no new ground as he carves out a similar tale of three teenaged boys in his debut venture, ‘Five Point Someone’.
Indian Institute of Technology – lovingly acronym-ed the I.I.T. has been the first love of many parents, students and industrialists. What might possibly go on inside the hallowed portals of this venerable temple of educationists was, therefore, a theme likely to entrance many – as the mind-numbing success of the book proved.
Having said that, the story is emphatically not a guide as to how to get into the I.I.T.s. It is not a practical handbook to that effect. It is nothing more and nothing less than a simple narration of events – events that reek suspiciously of truth and experience rather than pure flight of imagination. It has nuances of stark humour, of camaraderie and love, of failures and successes – all in all the whole bag of tricks.
Three green-behind-the ear boys meet and an unlikely pal-ship springs between them. They are all too different people – the cool, confident Ryan, the conventional, middle-class Alok and the shy, sentimental narrator Hari. How Alok ends up with broken bones, Hari with a sizzling love affair right under his professors’ noses and how all three of them end up with five points something GPAs at the I.I.T.s is what the story is about.
The under-current of dissatisfaction about the style of education at this ‘world-famous-in-India’ institute, if present, is food for the reader’s thought. The author has a fresh, light style of putting across his thoughts and could well emerge as one of India’s most popular.
Indian Institute of Technology – lovingly acronym-ed the I.I.T. has been the first love of many parents, students and industrialists. What might possibly go on inside the hallowed portals of this venerable temple of educationists was, therefore, a theme likely to entrance many – as the mind-numbing success of the book proved.
Having said that, the story is emphatically not a guide as to how to get into the I.I.T.s. It is not a practical handbook to that effect. It is nothing more and nothing less than a simple narration of events – events that reek suspiciously of truth and experience rather than pure flight of imagination. It has nuances of stark humour, of camaraderie and love, of failures and successes – all in all the whole bag of tricks.
Three green-behind-the ear boys meet and an unlikely pal-ship springs between them. They are all too different people – the cool, confident Ryan, the conventional, middle-class Alok and the shy, sentimental narrator Hari. How Alok ends up with broken bones, Hari with a sizzling love affair right under his professors’ noses and how all three of them end up with five points something GPAs at the I.I.T.s is what the story is about.
The under-current of dissatisfaction about the style of education at this ‘world-famous-in-India’ institute, if present, is food for the reader’s thought. The author has a fresh, light style of putting across his thoughts and could well emerge as one of India’s most popular.
That indestrucible thing called 'Rebecca'
One of the most striking scenes of the book that impressed me was when the second Mrs. de Winter tears up and burns a page bearing Rebecca's handwriting and signature. The last scrap of paper to be destoyed was the one bearing the masterful 'R' of the Rebecca! Now that's indestructability for you!
Indeed, Rebecca is death's answer to life. She is the embodiment of death's win over life. Any spirit can take a crash course from her on how to haunt effectively. 'Cause, haunt she did, not with absurd ghostly manifestations, but with just that - her Spirit.
Am sure a stray reader of the book is bound to comment that half of Rebecca's haunting comes from the attitude of the second Mrs. de Winter's inherent mousiness and of course, Mrs. Danver's fanatic devotion. But tell me, do, isn't it the all-round praise of the dead Rebecca that makes the narrator, this second Mrs. de Winter more and more unsure of herself? What is the cause of that all-round praise? Rebecca herself. What is the cause of Mrs. Danver's adoration? Again Rebecca herself. It is she, Rebecca, who was so impressive in life that her imprint cannot be removed even after her death.
I am amazed at myself. I am, normally, a conventional admirer of goodness. Loyalty and truth appeal to me as a rule. But there is something infinitely attractive about the glaring immorality and garish rebellion of Rebecca. So immense is the power of her personality that coming from her, even the bad looks beautiful.
The credit surely goes to Du Maurier. How can she create such a strong personality without letting that character ever get to the fore of story-telling, is something that makes me want to take my hats off to her. Or perhaps that is the secret? By never letting Rebecca tell her story herself, and by throwing the circle of torch-light on her from different points, she shows to the reader a character never in full, but like a jigsaw puzzle. More bewitching, more enchanting.
The best lesson for amateur authors trying to tutor themselves in characterization.
That's Rebecca, apart from being so much else!
Indeed, Rebecca is death's answer to life. She is the embodiment of death's win over life. Any spirit can take a crash course from her on how to haunt effectively. 'Cause, haunt she did, not with absurd ghostly manifestations, but with just that - her Spirit.
Am sure a stray reader of the book is bound to comment that half of Rebecca's haunting comes from the attitude of the second Mrs. de Winter's inherent mousiness and of course, Mrs. Danver's fanatic devotion. But tell me, do, isn't it the all-round praise of the dead Rebecca that makes the narrator, this second Mrs. de Winter more and more unsure of herself? What is the cause of that all-round praise? Rebecca herself. What is the cause of Mrs. Danver's adoration? Again Rebecca herself. It is she, Rebecca, who was so impressive in life that her imprint cannot be removed even after her death.
I am amazed at myself. I am, normally, a conventional admirer of goodness. Loyalty and truth appeal to me as a rule. But there is something infinitely attractive about the glaring immorality and garish rebellion of Rebecca. So immense is the power of her personality that coming from her, even the bad looks beautiful.
The credit surely goes to Du Maurier. How can she create such a strong personality without letting that character ever get to the fore of story-telling, is something that makes me want to take my hats off to her. Or perhaps that is the secret? By never letting Rebecca tell her story herself, and by throwing the circle of torch-light on her from different points, she shows to the reader a character never in full, but like a jigsaw puzzle. More bewitching, more enchanting.
The best lesson for amateur authors trying to tutor themselves in characterization.
That's Rebecca, apart from being so much else!
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