on top of it all...

And so it came to pass that we left the plains and came to the mountains during their coldest month.
We return in a couple of days. So far, it has been a mesmerizing time, and the sights and sounds and the laughter and affection of the Nepalese have us in thrall.


Here are a few pictures. There are many more. But this gives an idea of what it was like to everest.....


click on one & you can see them all in a row, bigger, one by one.

on the mountain flight from kathmandu...

these are more eerie and mysterious than the snow-capped giants.

clouds? mountains? mountain-clouds? cloud-mountains?

the sweet attendant on the flight.

birds apart.... roof of our pokhara hotel.

pokhara hotel room

a bridge built by the chinese. below that is an underground river that can generate hydro power during strong monsoons. (the couple are indian)

devi's falls. geeta thought it was THE devi, but it's named after a swiss lady who was martyred by the waters.

this little monk said he's nine. monks start very early in life, much, much younger than him.

as we left the tibetan monastery in pokhara, this gentleman smiled at me. our guide said tibetans get the sympathy and money of the world. but we found them pure.

when the sun started calling it a day at the phewa lake in pokhara.

the barahi temple in the middle of the phewa lake. the female form of vishnu when he took his varaha avatar. they sacrifice birds, since it's a chore bringing animals there by boat. geeta recoiled from the scent of blood.

around the bend on this lake is the palace where the nepalese king used to stay during his visits here. phewa lake was created by melting glaciers.

this is the beautiful girl whose boat rammed into ours and then moved away as if it was nothing at all.

the sun dropped something into the lake as it hurried away.

one of the lite-flights seen from pokhara airport as we waited for our kathmandu return flight.

still at the airport. when flights are delayed as they usually are, they're really delayed. there are compensations.

AAAAAaaaahhhh....

God lives somewhere in these mountains.
and when we went close, we realized something in us
was connecting with something out there.....

Launching THE BUZZ

A couple of months ago, I made a one-day trip to Coimbatore at the behest of Archana Dange, a dynamic and sensitive person who is doing great things in the field of children's education. If you agree that education covers more than sitting in class and staring at the teacher, then you'll probably also agree that there are worlds to be discovered, and each new discovery is an essential part of a child's necessary education.

 Archana brings together organisations to do what she does. The Helen O'Grady International Drama Academy and Eurokids are two outfits she's involved with. The Academy, in association with Long Long Ago, an online lending library for kids, has started a book and theatre club for children named Buzz. and that is what I was in Coimbatore to inaugurate. It was a fun evening, and this report from The Hindu will give you an idea of how it went.

In the morning, I held a literary workshop in a thatched terrace above Archana's office. The participants were from the Helen O'Grady Academy and Archana's friends, and probably a couple of others. Archana also participated, as did Shobhana Jayaraman, a wonderful girl with an amazing capability to connect with children. I enjoyed every moment of the workshop, and I think they did too. We had theatre too, instant skits that were imaginatively and enthusiastically performed.

I still don't know what Archana and Shobhana thought of the whole thing, though!

The work

The work that has happened.

First, the play. It went on day and night,
not continuously, but it struggled through
uneasy dark hours, and often I went to sleep past
three a. m. When the subject is about a social aberration
and the genre is murder mystery, night-time writing can be
eerie as well as immensely effective. And thus was born
CAST PARTY. It's with the Madras Players now, and they'll
arrange its upbringing.

Next, The Axe of Parashurama. 
[That had to be in red! You'll understand once you read it.]
First, I'll have to finish writing it and they've to publish it
and I'll be fortunate enough to hold
it in my hands and then I'll sign a copy for you.
 :-D

Surfacing....

So what are these two pictures all about?
Amish Tripathi & Ashwin Sanghi.
They are two of the hottest bestsellers today.
Simple narratives, new perspectives and reinvented marketing initiatives.
That's what has made them tick.
I moderated a discussion on myths with them at Landmark a couple
of months ago.
Please take a long and careful look at both photographs.
In the first, I am seriously participating in the proceedings.
In the second, I've made a breakthrough. That's me pointing out (to myself, mostly)
that I've been launching, discussing and
promoting other people's books for far too long!
After this moment of enlightenment, I rallied around and the result was
a completed play, nonsense pieces for an anthology, and renewed input and energy
for my novel, which is now finally beginning to make sense.

So there. The epiphany triggered an epic high like epic feni and the result
is some long-awaited industry.

Just remembered this that happened many months ago...

Author Shreekumar Varma, buys new books to donate for Aviva Great Wall of Education presented by The Hindu in Chennai on Monday. Photo: S.S. Kumar

PLEASE CLICK ON THE TITLE FOR THE LINK

AHAAA....

We will not look at the chronological order.
The first pic happened when my MA classmate Namasivayam's son got married and we had a grand reunion of dear friends, including Bobby from Bombay and Chengu from Thrissur. It was one of those scintillating moments that happen once in a very long while.

The second pic was taken when my college professor George K. Mathew's debut novel was released. It was once again a roomful of nostalgia, and everyone spoke about GKM who more than a month earlier had held the first copy of his book in his hand and died the next day--- as though he'd been waiting only for that. 20 years ago, he'd called me one day and said I'm retiring from college and I would like you to take my place for a year until a professor who's on a sabbatical returns. And that was how I taught Literature at MCC. This time the publisher of Helios Books, Gitanjali, called me and said I wanted GKM to read from his book. Now that he's no more, will you take his place? And I did. For the second time. CPI (M) Gen Sec Prakash Karat, one of GKM's old students, released the book, and I co-ordinated and read from the novel. It was a great evening.

The third pic was---you won't believe this!-- again full of nostalgia and classmates. This time it was a slice of school life. Thirty years after we left school we'd had a reunion where we released a CD. The songs were written in Tamil, English, Malayalam and Hindi by me. Music was by a classmate and songs were sung by all of us. I sang the Malayalam song. Now, this one was forty years after passing out, and we again released a CD, with even more songs--- other songs in Kannada and Telugu were written by others and also translated from my lyrics in English. It was great fun. The photo shows an aside during the meet in the school auditorium.

At  a meeting at the University of Madras' Malayalam and Hindi Depts, I released a book of poet A. Ayyappan's poems translated into Hindi from the Malayalam by Santosh Alex, who's a gifted and prolific translator. That's pic no 4. Somehow, I have been involved for the past three or four months in both literary as well academic events. So I've been able to meet several interesting people.

Like Sangeetha Shinde Tee, for instance. Who's with me in the fifth pic. I released her book of short stories, A Moral Murder & Other Stories. The stories are set in the Nilgiris, Coonoor to be exact, and cover many subjects including love, mystery and ordinary life. Sitting with her in the pic and reading from her book is Jamie who I met for the first time at a dinner when he walked all the way from Mandaveli to Boat Club Road after arriving in Chennai on a train from Bangalore. It was his second day in India! Sangeetha and her husband David are a dear couple.

And, finally, the sixth pic. Chronologically too, that's the latest one. It was at the showing of a short film in Malayalam where I was part of a panel discussion. The leader of the panel was famous Malayalam, Tamil and Hindi director K. S. Sethumadhavan. He made memorable films like Odayil Ninnu, Julie, Marupakkam and Jeevikkan Marannupoya Sthree. The moment I came up he said: Do you remember the last time we met in the Chandamama office? Did anyone make a film out of your story? I thought he'd forgotten! It had been more than 20 years ago. I'd just published a story for The Heritage, published by the Chandamama group and edited by noted writer Manoj Das. Mr Sethumadhavan had wanted to film the story then. My friend Viswanatha Reddi was the publisher. Time passed, and we'd gone our separate ways, as it often happens. Well, this pic too unleashed a mini typhoon of nostalgia.

Which probably is the basic characteristic of this post. Wouldn't you say?

You might have wondered at the significance of the title. It's just a way of telling you that I haven't abandoned my blog, and I'm back again. Ahaaa!

Manu Joseph's Serious Men gets The Hindu Fiction Award

CHENNAI: Manu Joseph has bagged TheHindu Best Fiction Award 2010 for his debut novel Serious Men.

Writer and historian Nayantara Sahgal presented the award, which carries a cash prize of Rs.5 lakh and a plaque, to Mr. Joseph, who is the Deputy Editor of the Open magazine.

The award was instituted by TheHindu Literary Review as a prelude to celebrating its 20th year in 2011.

The winner was chosen from the 11 works shortlisted from 75 entries of Indian fiction writing in English.

Shashi Deshpande, novelist and juror for the award, said the jury decision was unanimous.

Serious Men was an “original and surprising novel” that ventured into the unusual area of science and institutional research, Ms. Deshpande said.

The book was a “wonderful read” and the author had avoided literary gimmicks in a narrative style where “everything is subordinated to the telling of the story,” she said.

In his acceptance speech, Mr. Joseph said “an award is only as good as its shortlist,” and that it was an honour for his book to be judged alongside the works of good writers.

The jury also comprised Mukul Kesavan, author and essayist, Brinda Bose, academic and critic, and Jai Arjun Singh, literary critic.

The shortlist was finalised by a panel of Chennai-based judges comprising Shreekumar Varma, novelist, K. Srilata, poet-academic, Parvathi Nayar, artist-critic, and Ranvir Shah, founder of the Prakiriti Foundation.

Favourite Books

what would you say if someone suddenly stopped you and asked what your favourite books/ films/ cities/ moments are? this is what i had to say to Times of India's M'Zyme about books. take the spellings with abundant caution, though.

SPECTACLE OF HISTORY

In filming a biopic, the director’s truth is reflected in how he selects from history, points out shreekumar varma

Exactly 12 years ago, I wrote a small book for children entitled Pazhassi Raja: The Royal Rebel. It was the story of a brave king and his trusted followers who fought the British deep in the jungles of Wyanad in northern Kerala.


Pazhassi Raja Kerala Varma was among our first freedom fighters. Like a closely guarded secret, the world was yet to hear of him. My book was a tiny disclosure. Today, a major Malayalam film has managed to do the full monty. Loaded with hand-picked talent and powered by the biggest budget in Kerala’s film history, the Pazhassi film is a feast. It not only throws open a page of history, it does so in style.


As a chronicler of that period in history, how do I evaluate this new version, embedded in state-of-the-art technology?



Cinema is today’s medium, and among the most complete ones we have. Almost all experience can be conveyed through it. And yet, when we think of a biopic or slice of history filmed, each viewer searches for his own personal satisfactions. Which is to be expected since popular cinema is a mass medium. Individuals, groups and schools of thought expect to find their own piece of the democratic pie.



When I finish writing a play, I understand the director must take over, and the final product is a creature of our combined truths. Cinema too involves two stages of interpretation, writing and filming. In filming a biopic, the director’s truth is reflected in how he selects from history.



My earliest biopics, spectacular at the time (Todd Ao, stereo and all the rest of it), were El Cid and Lawrence of Arabia. Since I’d no idea of the actual history of their protagonists, they remained just that to me: spectacular. Later, the list burgeoned, including subjects as varied as Dr Kotnis, Michelangelo, Ayn Rand, Subrahmanya Bharati, Bose, Shankaracharya, Gandhi and even my own ancestors, Swati Tirunal and Raja Ravi Varma!



When filmmakers appropriated the last two, they focussed on exaggerated romantic episodes and relegated everything else in their lives to the background, apparently to satisfy prurient audience expectations. I was personally (but of course!) outraged. But then, theoretically, everyone owns a historical figure, so anyone can forward an opinion. The film-maker is, thus, never 100 per cent right or wrong.


The difference between filming fiction and history is that, while both are prone to interpretation, fiction is more verifiable (against the written word, which is generally a single source) while history may depend on a hundred perspectives. That’s catch number one. The second is the appropriation of the film-maker. Here we come to the process of selection. This depends primarily on the kind of film that’s contemplated. A biopic for The History Channel, for instance, is more faithful to sources than a film meant for a wider release. The latter may add a few extras to keep the audience engrossed. It may also change history in small ways to become acceptable!



In my above list, the Michelangelo film (The Agony and The Ecstasy) was a more or less typical Hollywood film about the famed artist while Shantaram’s Dr Kotnis ki Amar Kahani was a no-nonsense film about a selfless Indian doctor in wartime Japan. Both stretched out their themes, though, to depict and study human qualities and emotions. The biopic, besides its role as chronicler, also showcases human qualities in order to suggest the ideal ones. Similarly, the other films: Bharati (patriotic, social, political), Bose (patriotic, political), Rand (intellectual, emotional) and Shankaracharya (spiritual-philosophical). The biopic is rarely a stand-alone offering. It rests on the unfolding of a thesis.



As for the present film on Pazhassi, Director Hariharan has said he altered the ending to give it a suitably cinematic finale. This can be argued, especially when we’re dealing with a historical subject.



In the preface to my Pazhassi book, I wrote: “I have taken the help of props like plays, legends, stories passed on from mother to son — anything that could breathe life into the musty pages of official records. The story only grows stronger because of these props.”



There's no other way of handling this. On one side are pages of official (mainly revenue-related) records. On the other, romance and legend — generations keep adding to this storehouse of stories until the protagonist becomes a prototype of everything heroic. The creative interpreter has to steer his steed through both these extremes and come out into an area of imaginative plausibility. In the absence of solid proof, this is the only way left: to be true to the dictates of your medium, whether book or film.



That’s why when Hariharan made Pazhassi Raja confront his opponent Baber’s army on a hilltop and end his life in mortal combat, I had nothing to say. Because when history has already been touched with legend, anything can be made to happen. And because another version suggests that Pazhassi took his own life rather than surrender. In my book, straight from the present Pazhassi family’s mouth and those musty records provided by Baber himself, the Raja comes down to a mountain stream to perform rituals for his mother’s death anniversary. The British army catches him there. His men surround him protectively but, in the scuffle that follows, Pazhassi is felled by a bullet. This is probably not dramatic enough for the grandeur of the present film.



Being a long-time observer of cinema, I personally feel that any moment in history can be rendered dramatic with the available technical and story-telling tools; you don’t have to manufacture moments to suit cinema. The director, being a long-time practitioner of cinema, probably had other ideas
(published in the Sunday Herald, Bangalore, in 2009)