A Tamil writer discovered (in translation)

Thanks to two recent review assignments I have discovered a Tamil writer, the late  Sundara Ramaswamy (1931-2005). Thanks also  to Penguin Classics for introducing this lesser known writer to  an uninformed readership. Mr Ramaswamy deserves to be read, his particular Tamil-Travancore-Nagercoil world understood and appreciated. The writer was  fondly known known as 'SuRa' in literary circles

Here is a link to the recent releases of Sundara Ramaswamy's translated works.

http://www.penguinbooksindia.com/en/content/sundara-ramaswamy

And here  are the links to my reviews of two 'SuRa' gems.

http://www.deccanherald.com/content/344581/travancore-tryst.html

http://www.deccanherald.com/content/351644/an-iconic-work.html

Here is Mr. Sundara  Ramaswamy himself.


                         

Dalrymple Di Dilli -- 25 years on

Before the righteous reader accuses this writer of blasphemy-- after all, it is ‘Hamari Dilli’, not an English writer’s Dilli; our national capital (fallen in grace recently, but still our age-old world class capital city even so) — let me hasten to explain.

I’m a transplanted Chennai resident since the past twenty-five years. Prior to this period while my marriage and children were still young, I spent a happy decade (’78-’88) in the national capital -- approximately the same period that the Britisher William Dalrymple resided in Delhi, experienced the city’s endless charm and ended up writing an iconic book about it, -- The City of Djinns, a fabulous book that I continue to recommend since my first encounter with it in the mid-nineties. The book unpeeled Delhi through time and space, spoke in detail about its seven renewed lives, pointed to the living proof of the past, history alive as it were—and simply enthralled  me, made me fall in love with the city all over again. Since then I have wanted to revisit Delhi, relive my salad years there.

The opportunity happened recently, following a positive family event; and I spent a fortnight with a lovely family, experiencing the new—a gurgling newborn, plus a new colony, well-planned, green, clean, an urban delight (to be precise, Dwaraka, the sub-city to old New Delhi, and quite unlike the latter). I also took time out to explore and rediscover as much of the old as the muggy weather would permit.

In fact July-August is not exactly the ideal time to visit Delhi –it’s hot, sweaty, occasionally drizzly, suddenly pouring wet, chilly for a few hours, then muggy again. Still, as with any such place, visitors there were aplenty, and we cheerfully coped.

I  had carried my well-thumbed copy of Dalrymple’s book.  I wished to tread the Dalrymple trail, to whatever extent possible. I also wished see anew the place I had experienced in the eighties,

It wasn’t going to be easy. After all Delhi had changed tremendously during the ensuing period. The city was more accessible thanks to the efficient metro railway network. But conversely, it certainly wasn’t safe to walk around in lovely isolated spots, the way Dalrymple did in the eighties.

What I finally managed, was to ensure  a bit of both, experience a bit of  Dalrymple’s Dilli  and my own version of the city, its 2013 avatar seen through  rose-coloured spectacles from the eighties.

Some things never change – the clean manicured lawns, gardens  and roads of Lutyen’s New Delhi, the stunning  Lodhi gardens,  ice cream carts, the mobile carts selling ‘peeney ka thanda paani’ ( at two rupees per glass against fifty paise in the eighties), the properly manicured and pedicured  Dilliwalis, graceful old Sardars …  and brash young  puppies breaking the metro station queues.

The metro rides however did give one a peek into the mobile Delhi-ite’s soul, so to say. It was a pleasure to come across graceful ladies and gents who were only too willing to spare a seat for somebody who looked tired and in need of a seat. At the other end of the spectrum, one found reserved seats (for elderly or handicapped commuters) being usurped by youngsters who brashly stayed put while an older commuter hung on to a strap or pole. And there was the occasional human interest story observed through a long ride—the lovely looking girl with sad eyes, quietly wiping tears, being comforted by a young man. Enough material for a short story there…

Sarojini Nagar market (looking much the same despite its terror tryst from October 2009) and Lajpat Nagar market continue to be a bargainer’s delight. The former still looks neater and cleaner, the latter a bit messier.

Village Dilli continues  to  ensure its pronounced presence – bone-shattering ‘share-vans’ trundle along Dwaraka’s   clean wide roads picking up passengers pressed for time or money. New-look rickshaws and motorized cycle rickshaws continue to ply in these ‘border areas’ of spiffy   Delhi – a city often described rightly as an overgrown village.

Village Delhi’s entry into the city is nowhere more pronounced than at Chattarpur with its famed Katyayani  temple, last experienced during  the nineteen-eighties --  then an an isolated spanking new temple standing on a track of land surrounded by farmlands; it was the sort of spot  where one parked one’s car, quickly visited the marble-acred shrine with its golden Durga, partook of langar and then swept out of the isolated locality before dusk. Now, circa 2013, Chattarpur has its own metro station; the place is bustling, full of visitors who linger on and  enjoy the extensive delights of a place that is much more than a temple ... and as for the farmlands –they’ve been gobbled up by the flyovers, the much-expanded temple complex, other commercial establishments, wide roads, traffic, commercial garden nurseries...and thus do farmlands quietly disappear.

Village, culturally loaded ancient city, the national capital, rape capital….multiple images attach themselves to this megapolis, but sadly, the last one has stuck.  A young working lady friend  ensures that she is home by 7.00pm, back in her south Delhi pad. It would be an unwise risk catching a drama or film that ends late in the evening. Another young friend misses Mumbai where one could stay out late with nary a worry (but with its recent horrorfest at an abandoned mill, even Mumbai’s ‘safe’ reputation has suffered). Our  country is being raped in more ways than one – but that’s another story altogether.

 Delhi’s lately acquired reputation may go against it, but one can still steal daytime delights. A visit to the National Museum proved a rich and rewarding experience. I even picked up from  the museum store, a pair of ‘Harappan Seal’ tablets  – done beautifully in plaster of paris.

The buses are clean, low-floored (and ‘green’, thanks to CNG); the metro is good with its connectivity; and auotorickshaws are still cheaper than Chennai. So one would be wise to take advantage of   Delhi’s many inexpensive and eclectic delights.

To get back to Dalrymple – yes, I did wish to get a whiff of ittar scented  Purani Delhi. The writer’s tales about Chandni Chowk’s origins—the street that was created by a ruthless Mughal king’s sister – they perked up my interest in visiting this moonlit mall from the past.

As luck would have it, one got caught in a sudden cloudburst – and Chandni Chowk cum adjacent  Nai Sarak became squelchy slushy and plain impossible. Still, it was good to experience, in between dry spells, the grandeur, grace, calm and kirtanic melodies of Sis Ganj Gurdwara.

Chandni Chowk still manages to retain a very basic level of connection to its hoary past. Every few yards, one found coin sellers displaying a mound of 10, 20, paise rounds, copper doughnut annas--- and some Mughal period coins, looking extremely authentic.

The past is alive and flourishing in Delhi. Speeding along a highway, one peers at the greenery -- and eyes spy a broken brown monument bit hidden in the foliage.

 Plenty of monuments  and ruins dot the city’s by-lanes, parks, gardens and tourist tryst points  like the Qutub complex --  and   are easily accessible thanks to the metro (unlike the eighties when one ended up waiting endlessly  for an infrequent DTC bus). However this time I had wished to sidestep the regular places and check out some lesser known spots.

 The Mehrauli Archeological Park was made known to the public late in the nineties after its discovery and development; yet to date, few visitors seem aware of this adjunct to the famed Qutub Minar.  Luckily, a  friend was good enough to mention it as a must-see; I checked the 'net -- and discovered that the place was chock full of baolis(medieval step wells), gardens, tombs, mosques, the lot. So  my spouse and I zoomed off to  Qutub  Metro station, then flagged an auto to the Qutub complex a couple of kilometers away. We also quizzed the autorick driver about the recently popularized archeological site -- but the autowala’s response stumped us —‘Nobody goes there; the place is a keechad (swamp).’  Now our main interest was the archaelogical park, so we persisted and asked to be dropped off at the archeological park.

A small iron gate led us on to enclosure with its detailed map -- featuring Balban’s tomb, the rose garden (which was right there ahead), the Rajaon ki Baoli, Jamali Kamali Mosque , everything  significant, ancient, preserved. In the near distance one could spy  the top of  a   domed sandstone monument  In the foreground lay the (fairly unkempt) rose garden. The place at one sweeping glace looked lovely --  and lonely. Dismayed, we realized that the bloody place was deserted! Except for a lone man who watched us from a ledge, and another solitary hiker in the far distance, this resurrected bit of Delhi history was simply not safe to survey, walk through and enjoy without undertaking the risk of getting mugged or worse. So we acted sensibly -- took photos of the map at the park’s entrance, plus the rose garden – and moved back to the main road – where our auto driver awaited us, so sure was he of our quick return. He generously offered to drop us off at the main Qutub monument  and we hopped in, thanking the man, yet distressed at missing the Mehrauli  Archaelogical Park. A sad case of so near, yet so far..

At the Qutub Minar complex, there were crowds aplenty. I questioned the Qutub bookstore manager about the deserted archeological park – how safe could it be when it was not publicized well enough to attract visitors? His reply was unsatisfactory; he replied that the individual monuments within the park had their guards and we could safely visit the place. And why were there no crowds at the archeological park?  ‘Well, most people don’t know about it…’

A request to Delhi tourism folk—please advertise your wares properly. We’d like to experience Delhi’s hidden charms at least on our next trip.

Two articles and four recent book reviews, at Sunday Deccan Herald.

http://www.deccanherald.com/content/306400/for-greener-planet.html

http://www.deccanherald.com/content/307821/pan-indian-identity.html


1. Well-known writer Kalpana Swaminthan (also a surgeon) has tried to create an Indian  Miss Marple through her Detective Lalli series of mysteries.  I have read only this one book from the series-- and I found it strictly ok,perhaps a one-time read. Check out The Secret Gardener if you like mysteries.

The book --  http://www.penguinbooksindia.com/en/content/secret-gardener

My review :  http://www.deccanherald.com/content/325683/mulch-murder.html

2. A lovely inspiring book --Legacy, edited by Sudha  Menon.

http://www.deccanherald.com/content/330288/dear-daughters.html

3.A Karan Johar flick in a book!

http://www.deccanherald.com/content/335929/fit-filming.html

4. This is a pretty good book, quite revealing about real Delhi --but don't expect a great thriller. It's more a  readable and fairly  witty critique of Delhi, the press, the police...all that we read about Delhi.

http://www.deccanherald.com/content/338914/delhi-rumblings.html

Three more book reviews from me, at Sunday Deccan Herald

1. Monisha Rajesh a, debutant writer gets it right in this sparkling travelogue through India -- Around India in 80 Trains. Here is a link to the book details:

http://rolibooks.com/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=588&category_id=2&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=3

And here is my review: http://www.deccanherald.com/content/298751/rediscovery-rail.html

2. This one is right up there in my all-time favourites list.  Sanjeev Sanyal has written a brilliant history of  India's geography. Here is a link to the book details.

http://www.penguinbooksindia.com/en/content/land-seven-rivers

And here is my glowing review:

http://www.deccanherald.com/content/314430/sapta-sindhu-saga.html

3. Veteran travel writers Hugh and Colleen Gantzer  are at it again, re-discovering India for travellers and travelogue-buffs. Here is a link to one of their books from the Inriguing India series.

http://www.amazon.com/Intriguing-India-The-Colourful-East/dp/938152355X

My review of this book :  http://www.deccanherald.com/content/317629/eclectic-east.html

A Filmfan's First Filmfest

                                               

                                                  
                 I have been consuming cinema for years: reading about it, the makers, the stardust; watching through the years eclectically, "chun chun ke" to use the Hindi expression. I trawl,select and watch, but read randomly, almost everything - reviews, interviews, analysis the lot . I am there on many an internet  based film-forum.

I have always wished to attend a film festival. Am doing so this time, in my own city.

Currently Chennai is hosting its Tenth International Film Festival,  from the 13th December to 20th December 2012. Here are my impressions.

Last evening spouse and self made our way to the opening ceremony and film at the Woodlands Theatre complex. This is not a swanky new multiplex; it simply remains a grand old twin-screen cinema. The  spacious parking lot, the  foyer, the wooden ramp to the top floor(and yes, it is a two-level old style theatre), the large air-conditioned  auditorium with  classic interiors and fans fixed to side walls --the very  venue  proved a nostalgic treat.

 VIPs from film,government  and other fields were expected, so the waiting  janta waited outside till the swish set breezed in --  and  people-watch activity  helped pass the time. The pretty  'matching yellow' brigade of  ladies, from leading  newspaper sponsor, if I'm not mistaken; busy press people with  cameras 'n' ipads, a goodly student crowd with distinctive pink IDs, us common folk with our blue badges cum season tickets -- and then thankfully, we were allowed in, seats found, the mob accommodated anyhow.

The opening ceremony started in good time, Indian Stretchable Time... and  the audience was good natured enough to understand that a certain philosophical resignation was needed to survive such  stretched out events.Some colourful light beams and nadaswaram music filled the air and  time; we watched and listened restlessly; youngsters joked... and the music show began preceded by some introductory talk from the bi-lingual MC pair.

A piano sat expectantly, left of stage; and at half past six, or a little later, it started --the well assembled musical  hour. The students of AR Rahman's music school   ( the KM Music Conservatory) did an excellent job, starting with a soulful sufi ensemble -- their rendition of Rahman's  rousing goose-bump inducing composition Al Madat Maula from the 2005 film Mangal Pandey -- it excited and gladdened my heart and soul exactly as the album did in 2005. The underated music of this unfairly panned film, it all came alive again. This appetizer was followed up with a feast involving very young piano wizards  (including the public debut of  Ameen Rahman, ARR's son); two  operatic expositions  that provided an international flavour -- and  two popular Rahman compositions from  Mani Ratnam's films --one of the songs was the energetic Oorvasi Orvasi --that  had the students whistling and cheering. Good fun.

The speeches took up  the next hour; a lot of it interesting and  informational, giving credit to all who have helped steer the Chennai filmfest scene to its current satisfactory status --  then FINALLY at 8.30 pm , we got to watch the opening film  'Amour' -- the acclaimed Palme 'd'Or winner, the film that has been making waves through this year, at almost all film festivals.

My views on the films will follow, soon enough, by and by.

More filmfest  information can be gleaned through the links. There is a video too, so do check out the links.

http://www.chennaifilmfest.com/

http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/chennai/in-celebration-of-the-best-film-fest-kicks-off-in-city-with-a-bang/article4196813.ece

Update.17th December 2012.
So, at mid point of filmfest, here are my impressions.

Loved the first day's opening film Amour.





 Amour is a French language film that has created waves this year at all the major film festivals and in fact won the coveted Palme'dOr at Cannes this summer; it has also recently earned a nomination from the Goden Globes, Foreign Film category. Amour is a poignant dramatic look at old age and debility;  straight and true without being maudlin  manipulative or sentimental; all about love being inherent to whatever actions are taken by old couples living with whatever life throws at them. Definitely worth a watch ; not very cheery, but certainly dramatic and interesting, even if the pace is slow, almost langurous at times.

Amour,  finally... leaves one gasping .  It made me ponder about the situation in India. I can't help feeling that our Indian way of living/spirituality/ meditative prayer discipline -- all these contribute to an acceptance of old age and its accompanying ills, a capacity to face the inevitable in a calm manner. The  truths of life  cannot be wished away , but one can and should prepare oneself mentally; true love manifests itself in the strangest of ways, especially among those who have  travelled past the oasis of youthful  happy companionship. The real test lies at  journey's end.


Check out the film at this site:

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1602620/ 
*************************************************************************************

Updated 21.12.2012.

So, the 10th  Chennai International  Film festival concluded yesterday. It was a hectic 8 days feast of  films that were shown morning 10.00 am to  late evening  8.00pm, last show. My husband, old  friend Sreela (who joined us on day 6), self, --  we had a good time. Took a breather on day 5; did not watch any film, but caught up on sleep and home cleaning-work. Did not watch on Day 8 either. Probably the impact of last film that we watched on Day 7, the highly hyped Holy Motors, which turned out to be one bizarre soulless dark piece of pretentious 'paethal' (to use a Tamil expression meaning idiocy/madness).

Well, Amour on day one was followed by the classic 1992 musical 'Strictly Ballroom ' (directed by Australian Baz Luhrmann, making his first film). This wacky sweet colourful kitchy film is set in the world of competitive ballroom dancing. Flamboyant, sinewy bodies doing their thing, emotions of characters at a high pitch generally...this film is very much a precursor to Luhrmann's  second film Romeo+Juliet and third  film Moulin Rouge. Watch it if you can. Will remind you of our  Hindi  director Sanjay L  Bhansali...but with more humour and irony, compared to Bhansali.

Check out Strictly Ballroom here :  http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0105488/

Day 3; watched the Iranian veteran  Abbas Kiastorami's Japanese film , Like Someone in Love. Interesting story well shot, a good snazzy film   that ends abruptly, leaving one frustrated. If this is a filmmaker's idea of leaving audiences to draw their own conclusions...try it in India with an Indian film. The director would get torn by critics and audiences.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PWIuOq74Wak

Day 4 --the scheduled French  film was replaced by a Hungarian film The Exam . We were a tad disappointed with the change, but finally the chosen film was quite good actually. This thriller follows two lovers living under a communist regime ( circa 1957), that spies on its own citizens, as a matter of routine.
Here is some information about the film, released this summer.

http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/review/exam-movie-review-karlovy-vary-film-festival-346308

Same day, same venue (the lovely renovated Casino theatre, surviving  since 71 years, even as most single cinemas give up their seats to builders of malls), next show --watched my first Argentine film, a romantic comedy of sorts, called Un Amor.
Un Amor is all about a wild girl and her two male buddies; the trio during adolescence, then thirty years later. Too much of skin show at a few points, unnecessary, but yes, that's what some of these films consider real.OK flick, seemed slightly pointless and meandering.  But great poster --

https://www.impawards.com/intl/argentina/2011/un_amor.html

Day 6. Watched an afternoon screening of my first Turkish film  --  Present Tense. This is a  minimalist film that tries to turn one tale about a young unemployed Turkish female into a statement about  young and restless Turks. The film could well have been renamed Coffee Dregs. Read this review to know why.

http://www.screendaily.com/reviews/the-latest/-present-tense/5040532.article

This slight and listless though charming  film was followed by a short interactive question-answer session with its female  debutant director. The director gamely  attempted to answer our questions --  Was coffee  dreg reading-fortune telling illegal though popular? What was the film's ultimate statement /conclusion ? Was  the film a reflection of present day Turkey? Well, we did learn that coffe cup  reading was hugely popular even while it was illegal. The  film was left open ended  so that the viewer could draw his/her own conclusions. And yes, Indian cinema both commercial and independent , was quite popular in Turkey.

From Turkey to Hungary, another film, another  theatre, same evening --  once again good old Casino on  Mount Road. This landmark moviehouse has managed to withstand the ravages of time. At 71 it is a stately old lady, kept going with some cosmetic touches and loving monetary inputs from dedicated cineastes.

 

 Well, at least during the duration of the festival, Casino has worked hard to bring in serious film fans. The evening's presentation was a lovely Hungarian film , The Maiden Danced to Death.

In my opinion, this film was one of the best offerings , right up there with critic favourites like Amour.  Perhaps film festival buffs and cinema snobs may find it amusing that I rate these two films equally. The reason I do so is because this Hungarian film has a certain mainstream dramatic sensibilty that is easy to relate to --one leaves the film screening, enlightened and enraptured. A story about a man returning to his roots, trying to exorcize old ghosts, a film full of native music, dance and emotion in true Indian film fashion -- I could relate to the film, and so did my companions.


Do check out this vibrant film :  http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1453262/


Check out the following link too.  Understand  what this person says -- about Americans preferring French-Italian cinema, not caring to check out East European cinema with its own special quality.
http://alex-udvary.blogspot.in/2012/03/film-review-maiden-danced-to-de ath.html


Day7. Watched a Claude Chabrol thriller classic, L'enfer (Hell). Ok, nothing special, not bad, not great. It is all about a  jealous husband's descent into madness.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0109731/www.lalipond.blogspoit.com


Followed this matinee with what we hoped would round off the day with the best from Europe, Cannes, the lot....since critics seem to be raving about Holy Motors, this year's supposedly zany  and intelligent  entertainer.


Well...  I absolutely hated this film...and  I am quite an easy going person, never one to completely dislike anything, a book or film into which considerable effort has gone. Maybe one needs to be primed up to watch this sort of film , know the subtext... but shouldn't art  have a quality that helps one appreciate to an extent, without the help of a context?


A pile of pretentious poop is how I would term it. Art should be uplifting and this film was not. It is dark film , metaphorically and figuratively. It takes place in darkness 98% of the time and is certainly hard on straining eyes. And though it is said to be wacky and entertaining in its own fashion--a section of the audience did laugh at points--I found it to be mostly soulless and definitely pretentious.And apparently this film is a sort of tribute to old style cinema-- but there have been so many better  films in this genre --  that wonderful silent film The Artist,  Bollywood blockbusters like OSO....well I will stop, since cinema snobs will be sure to laugh at my comment. I guess it is a film with references to past work from French masters. So, not exactly a universal film, hence my poor appreciation , perhaps.

Holy Motors has of course been loved and hated. Do check out the reviews from the two groups.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2076220/

My spouse and I gave a miss to  the final day's  offerings, but my friend did watch two wonderful films. I wish I had too, rounded off my filmfest experience with another humdinger, instead of the unholy French flick of the earlier day.

Ah well, it was a good week for a film buff. It was enlightening  to watch   films outside of the regular Indian-Hollywood circuit. And now I do wish that my satellite tv provider would return with the World Cinema channel provided to us a couple of years back, then removed. Or maybe, we need to source our dose of world cinema through paid internet platforms.

Three Book Reviews

 
http://www.deccanherald.com/content/269213/midlife-awakening.html
 


http://www.deccanherald.com/content/278910/inheritance-discord.html




http://www.deccanherald.com/content/289895/afghan-awakening.html

Poetry relics from a Nineties Notebook

       

 
                                                         Copper Moon-1.

Every dawn I watch
A copper ball
Emerge from my sea;
Starting my day

At eventide,
It is a silver ball

That serenades my sky;
Ends my day.

One recent evensong,
My eyes beheld
A dazzling sight--
A Copper Ball .

A burnished reddish-brown ball,
Rose from the waves
And came to rest
‘Midst a kohl-eyed sky.

I wish I were an artist
Whose brush could capture
Those burnt orange tones;
That jeweled orb.

All I am though,
Is a versifier;
And I fear that my words

Fall short.

 Perhaps I will need
A high-end camera
To share the ethereal beauty

Of  my lovely lunar pie.

                                                          
 
                                                                        Copper Moon-2

 Poets have written
About a silver moon.

But never have I read
Of a copper moon.

Yet, occasionally, infrequently,
I spy in my sky,
A copper pot
Dancing by.

As the Western sky blushes,
And the orange orb dips,
The Eastern sky lights up,
With  russet blue  hues.

A blue-black-red  canvas
Drops down as  screen
For the rarefied spectacle
Of the Copper Moon .

I watch entranced
As the burnt brownish ball
Lingers and sparkles
Enchanting us all.

I am not so fortunate
As to be held in trance
By the Northern Lights
Of  The Netherlands.

Yet my coastal home
In my Indian town
Gives me my own
Heavenly  Southern  Lights.