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Book Review: Murder At The Club

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Author: Sushama Kasbekar

The murder mystery begins with finding a dead body in an elite club premises. The charming and suave Rita Bansal, wife of businessman, Rakesh Bansal is found dead in the guest room, and it’s a clear case of murder. It is discovered that she was intimate a little earlier, with business tycoon Manendra a perennial womanizer.

Police Inspector Virendra and his assistant get involved in the investigation that brings up the dirty linen of the rich and the so-called sophisticated elite to the forefront. Things get further murkier when another high-profile socialite is found murdered in the same club.

What is the connection between the two murders? Was it an act of revenge, passion, or jealousy? What were the skeletons hidden in the closets of the club members that resulted in bizarre trysts that ended relationship boundaries? Do politics score over personal bonding?

The story is about how Virendra eventually zeroes in on the Perps.

The author has tactfully handled the investigative process in this light and breezy read. There is no gore or explicit unwanted content. Though the characters are aplenty, she has handled them each deftly. Overall an interesting plot.

Book Review: India’s Money Heist: The Chelembra Bank Robbery

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Author: Anirban Bhattacharya

This is the author’s second book in my kitty and he doesn’t disappoint.

Chelembra, a small town in Kerala was caught in the eye of a storm when it became the hotspot of India’s largest bank heist. 80 kg of gold and cash amounting to about 8 crores INR were stolen in what seemed to be a perfect crime. However, the commendable efforts of the Kerala Police under the able leadership of P. Vijayan thwarted the criminal intents and not only recovered the loot but also strengthened the belief that crime never pays.

The salient features of the book are:

  1. impeccable research where the author worked at the grassroots to gain first-hand information about the investigation process and what transpired.
  2. The author has taken us on a journey from both ends, the mastermind’s mind and the Inspector in charge making this nothing short of a movie playing.

A sensational thriller to the core, this is a must-read.

Book Review: Be You Now

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Author: Sagar Makwana

This is a self-help guide written by a life coach.

Personally I am not a fan of non-fiction, however this book got me on the go. The book’s format and the premise set you thinking about the ‘you’ within you.

The author has elaborated on different elements that hinder our path towards ‘success’. At the same time, he has also laid down practical techniques and principles that can help us streamline ourselves to maximise our potential. The author has painstakingly put forth pertinent quizzes at regular intervals and one cannot help but delve into ‘self’.

The icing on the cake is, the book is far from preachy and is interspersed with anecdotes that make it a light read, with a heavy message.

A must-read if you feel bogged down by life pressures, unsure of your true calling in life, or if you are clueless abut the direction your life has taken.

I am still reeling in the ‘you’!

Poem: Her cherubic miracle

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‘Her cherubic miracle’
He came into her life when she saw lone despair.
Motherhood’s Jubilant elation filling her lair.
She yearned to hear a flowing conflab
His diagnosis hit like a power jab.
Autism… he would not speak, they declared
To the Almighty her voes she bared.
Plunging headlong into his rehabilitation
She was engulfed in the throes of exhaustion.
Two years passed in waiting agony
Her heart splintered at world’s apathy.
She had almost given up when one day
He looked into her eyes in abandoned gay
“Mama” his voice dripped warmth like never before
She cried holding him close, shaken to her core.
No less than a miracle, her life’s biggest gain
The heavens had smiled upon her yet again.
She made the resolve to work harder
His first words filled her with renewed vigour.
(dedicated to the mothers of the specially-abled angels)
(Posted on the Asian Literacy society’s page as a part of NaPoRimo day 1)

Mirror mirror on the wall….

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The mirror is my best friend because when I cry it never laughs.

Charlie Chaplin

“Amma…?”

Shalini waltzed into the tiny abode, the door banging after her. I rattled in my rickety frame, my senile cracked body ready to give away soon. The sliver of early morning sunrays streamed in through a crack in the fragile plaster-peeling wall, sending the listless dust into a frenzy.

Premalatha, clad in a simple cotton saree hanging loosely on her bony contours emerged from the partitioned kitchen and looked at me, nervously knotting her ‘pallu’ around her index finger.

Don’t worry Prema…

Her face crinkled up a hesitant smile; she had aged beyond her 45 summers given the curveballs life threw her way. I have been a mute witness to her turmoil reflecting everything in utmost sadness. Probably that’s why I still have a place in this house.

“Shalu, I am worried” Prema again looked at me and I hoped every single shard in me could capture her anguish without casting it back.

“Amma. Suresh has explained everything to his parents. They are educated people. They don’t even want dowry.” Shalini’s excitement was palpable. I hoped her dreams wouldn’t be shattered.

I had seen a lot of the world around in all honesty.

Real and virtual.

And judgemental.

In the next few hours, the single-room house was engulfed with myriad mouth-watering aromas. My smithereens glittered as the early evening sunlight fell on me brightening up the imperceptible room. I couldn’t wait to meet the guy.

Suresh and his parents soon made their entry with the curious neighbours in the chawl crowding in for a glimpse.

Premalatha welcomed them and they occupied the lone cot in the room. Suresh’s parents left the savouries untouched while they glanced around wrinkling their noses as their eyes caught mine.

Did I reflect their dark souls?

Premalatha had worn her ‘special-occasions’ purple nylon saree while Shalini looked like an angel in her pink salwar-kameez. Suresh was a lucky man…

“Premalathaji, we are of a modern outlook and don’t believe in dowry….” The father spoke tersely after sometime. “…but… your past… We like Shalini. She is educated and has a promising career ahead. But… she must break all ties with you…”

Rage swamped me and I thought I would splinter all over the place watching Premalatha swamped in misery.

What will happen to Prema after I am gone?

“No uncle, I am what I am because of my mother. She may have been a commercial sex worker in the past, but she worked hard to give me a life away from that dark hole. I am proud to be her daughter and I will only marry a person man enough to accept my mother.” Shalini declared unflinching.

The trio left soon after.

“I ruined it Shalu. You should sever ties with me…” Premalatha wailed later that evening.

“Stop that, Amma. You are my world. I love you.”

I now don’t mind being given away. My Prema is in safe hands.

(500-word flash fiction entry for Artoons Inn. Topic: Inanimate object’s POV. I see you)

Book Review: The House At Riverton

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Author: Kate Morton

“Within its four walls lay a secret that would last a lifetime…” says the writing on the book cover and it lives true in every sense of the word.

A brilliantly written fictional memoir, the book makes the reader go through various turmoils and upheavals in the time, in the early 1900s

The story vacillates between 1999 and 1924.

Grace Bradley is now 98 years old and she had been a housemaid at Riverton manor in the 1920s. When a young film director approaches her to make a movie surrounding the murder mystery of a poet at the time, Grace is engulfed with old memories. Ghosts emerge so do secrets hidden in the depths of her subconscious… as the only living witness to suicide/murder that changed the course of different lives in the manor.

Though history has forgotten it all and in some dusty corners lie the narrative, unheard and unsung, Grace juggles between her memories and present self. She decides to record it all for her writer-grandson and reveals it all in a bid to get closure for herself and leave the world guilt-free.

As the War-damaged summers of the past pave the way to the decadent turn of the century, this is a thrilling read and if one can call it, a compelling love story.

Book Review: The Fire Ant’s Sting, desire diaries

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Author: Kamalini Natesan

Human desires manifest in innumerable forms. Ranging from a state of damnation to obscurity, from jealousy to intimacy, desire ranges and rages often threatening to consume us whole.

The author brings out 12 forms of desires through twelve short stories. Each story evolved in its own domain and has the raw appeal that sucks the reader into its throes. Whether its the watchtower man who is happily living his ‘watching’ fantasies and marries a specially-abled woman to continue the same unhindered, or an ex-pat couple’s illicit desire to hoard wealth, or a helicopter mom’s eagerness to please the world every story is strung on the comment thread of ‘desire’

The language is lucidly interspersed with some amazing vocabulary and the author demonstrates her command over the language. Some elements are left open-ended and that brings about the intrigue quotient into play. A myriad of human emotions tinged with pathos hues… But that’s what desire is all about, isn’t it?

Book Review: Being Good Enough

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Author: Rohini Paranjpe Sathe

This narrative is a rollercoaster ride of emotions and interpersonal relationships, of courage in the face of adversities and betrayals of the worst kinds.

The protagonist Jyoti is an educated young woman brought up in Delhi with archaic rules framing her boundaries in a hard-core Hindu household. Her younger brother Sooraj, the black sheep of the family often gets away with whatever he does.

Things go in for a toss when she begins a clandestine affair with a Muslim man, Sameer, and from then on begins a journey along a path laden with thorns, and innumerable curveballs are thrown her way.

This includes being forced into a marriage to ‘cleanse’ the family name and upright the family honor. Sameer always lurks in the dark and eventually Jyoti has to run away from it all. She spends the next 15 years in oblivion in Mumbai raising her son Abir along with her masi. The rotten past however soon catches up and this time it springs out of control.

Does Jyoti keep up her resilience or does she succumb to evil?

The Author has an amazing command over language and that is evident with the choice of words and figures of speech sprinkled throughout the narrative. The narrative is lucid and that makes the book unputdownable.

A must-read!

Book Review: The 40 Rules of Love

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Author: Elif Shafak

 

This book isn’t a story, it’s a journey. It isn’t a sermon but a path laid with roses and thorns. This is how I felt as a reader who doesn’t fancy this genre. The book came as a recommendation and didn’t disappoint.

The narrative is about a woman a homemaker and a mother of 3 and how she struggles with the mundane motions of life. Nothing around her excites her anymore and the family too doesn’t seem to value her presence or contribution to the house. In the emptiness filling her heart, she begins her part-time work of reviewing manuscripts and is handed over one that changes her outlook toward life itself.

Ella reads the manuscript about the thirteenth-century Sufi poet Rumi and Shams of Tabriz, and his forty rules of life and love, her world is turned upside down. She connects with the author who is actually a vagabond photographer and soon feels like she has a tete-a-tete with her soulmate. She feels her life brightening up and eventually gives up everything to be with him. That she feels is seeking meaning to her life.

While the content appears dry and filled with Sufi teachings mainly Sham’s 40 rules interspersed throughout the narrative, Overall it has a special charm. There area couple of edit errors like Ella’s POV going to the third person in the last two chapters and also the ending appears rushed with the revelation of everything together.

Yet its an interesting read.

Short story: It’s Magic

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It’s Magic!

“Raj, you should participate in the upcoming art fest.” Nita urged her husband.

“It’s in vain Nita, they won’t accept my entry… yet again….” Raj lamented. “… It’s two years now. I have lost my sheen.” Raj walked out of his home studio.

Nita stared at the viridescent gossamery canvas splattered with a psychedelic insignia, placed awkwardly on the ornate easel. She straightened the painting and smiled. She always favored Raj’s paintings; after all, she had fallen in love with them before the artist himself. Every piece of art adorning the studio had Raj’s signature element, Chaotic passion, as he called them. She read the board he had hand painted with stunning calligraphy right after their marriage six years ago.

Life is where chaos and grace intertwine,

Blend in an allegory of passion

Here’s our love shrine…

She blew a determined sigh. She had to set things right. Painting meant the world to Raj and he was her cosmos. Raising her right hand, she looked at the glowing signet ring on her middle finger, the only part of her legacy she had a claim to.

A little later Nita went to their open balcony where Raj stood staring into oblivion with his hands in his pocket and his hunched back was a dead giveaway of his state of mind. His silky hair, her fingers loved to meander ruffled in the evening breeze.  She joined him and the spread of the lit-up town in the little valley twinkling before their high-rise lifted her spirits. She loved this time of the year when winter had seeped into their skin but was yet to chap it. The ambrosial environment around her seemed to arrange its own symphony.

The glittering lights in the darkness resembled a sequined black Afghan and filled her with hope.

“Raj…” Nita later offered her special chamomile tea. “…I believe in your abilities.”

Taking a lone sip of the concoction Raj kept the cup away.

“Nita, I am sorry but my fingers just don’t seem to flow with the paintbrush presently. It’s almost a year now that I have painted something concrete. Colors don’t speak to my soul anymore and my life seems just plain black and white…”

“It’s December Raj, there may be a shower of blessings, a sprinkle of the special kaleidoscopic Christmas magic” Nita’s eyes twinkled even as she blinked back tears.

“Ahh… Magic again. When are you going to let go of your alchemic beliefs?” Raj seemed peeved and Nita turned to go back into the house.

He immediately held her hand and pulled her closer. Holding her svelte shoulders he said, “Ever since we first met a decade ago, you haven’t left any stone unturned to coarse me to believe in magic. But Nita, magic for me was always in the form of polychromatic flamboyance on canvas. That kind of conjury doesn’t exist for me anymore. My career as a painter is done…” His hands dropped and Raj looked away, dejected.

“Don’t forget Raj, you were an award-winning artist…”

“…And that was once upon a time, Nita. Let it go.”

Later that night when the world slept, Nita shut herself in the art studio. She knew it was time.

Six years ago

“Narnia, you shall not go to the human realm anymore… It’s against our rules” Nita’s grandmother and the queen of witches of the Gordon kingdom, Beatrice had announced.

“But Grams… I am not a genuine witch, am I? I don’t have the special marking on my body… I am blemish free.” Narnia insisted.

“That my dear is because you were born out of my daughter’s indiscretion in 1889 when she rescued the captain of the doomed Clan McKenzie… she remained a mere mortal after she tied the knot with the man. They both died in quick succession leaving you, an infant at the mercy of nature’s fury. Fortunately, we got you here on time and you could retain some of the prowess you were endowed with at birth…”

“But grams, everyone loved mama. Glinese fairy mother said so” Narnia had argued.

“Yes, my child, no one hated your mom. She was a selfless fairy. Her soul was a sponge, absorbing all melancholy around her, yet when she married your father, and he soon passed, her life throbbed like a pustule all the time. It’s our celestial rule. Once you become a part of the human realm it’s the end of this world for you.”

“But grams, it’s 2012 and I love Raj…”

“Life in the human realm isn’t a bed of roses, Narnia…” Grams had warned. “…You will have no magical powers whatsoever. You will cease to become a half-witch. My dear, you have grown up engulfed with magic and Raj is a non-believer. How will you survive my dear?”

“I will grams, for love conquers all.”

The day she left Gordom for good, her Godmother, Minister Glinese gifted her a signet ring.

“My dear, this ring has magical powers but can be used only once…” Lisa said with a melancholic smile. “… and one more thing. If your turn your husband into a believer, you will get back your powers from this realm, so you can help needy humans till the time you live.”

Narnia, now Nita had loved her life with Raj who had been a wonderful husband and friend. She reveled in his love and rarely missed Gordom.

She sighed and turned the signet ring. A flash of light gushed in through the partly open window and fell on the painting. The light returned as suddenly as it arrived and the painting now portrayed her favorite story…about how her parents met. The melancholic brine… she submitted the entry.

Raj’s painting won the coveted Kala Ratna award and that night post the celebratory dinner, he said ecstatically, “Nita my darling, I don’t understand how and what transpired but I now believe, magic happens. My fingers seem to have got back their aptitude.”

Nita smiled seeing the signet ring glow once again!