T r e a d Softly... YOU MIGHT TRIP ON TEXT


Tuesday, November 02, 2010

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.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

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.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

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)

Friday, September 10, 2010

T M T (the moment of truth)

The NCPA looked large, grand and gorgeous. it was filling with people, celebrities, socialites, readers and passionate invitees. it was good to see the magic store of nu-cham-vu on the panels, and blown up and prominently displayed. i wished vinayak, my son, was there to see his illustrations being made so accessible.

It was, of course, a moment of happiness as well as nervousness.

when the book was nominated, i felt okay. when it was shortlisted, i was happy. but now, on the brink of it, i felt rather prickly! ruskin bond was the chief guest. he spoke beautifully and simply, and narrated events during a time when the book business was but a fraction of its present size and scope. he used to do exactly the sort of thing i did--- go to a book store and secretly place my book at an advantage! of course, your books are always behind someone else's. so this is a nice, neat trick to reinforce your concern for your own book. nowadays, because of media coverage, you might be noticed by people in the shop, and they'd say, look at this writer, he's moving his own book around to give it prominence!

there was violin playing by some wonderful little kids, and it kept up the dirty, rotten suspense in a nice sort of way. a string of kids would play, they'd be joined by another, then another, and finally the stage was almost filled with wonderful youngsters blessed with talent. the comperes for the evening were arundhati subramaniam and ranjit hoskote. arundhati is my friend and theatre-person the late bhagyam's niece, and i'd communicated with her when i was leaving for scotland for the charles wallace residency in 2004. arundhati had gone the previous year.

they'd said the children's prize would be announced first. actually, it was the last to be announced! you can imagine my condition. earlier, i'd met my competitors, young siddhartha sarma and rupa pai. before the event i'd had coffee and a nice, relaxed conversation with siddhartha, who's a gem of a guy.

only one of the children's judges had turned up in mumbai that evening. she climbed up on stage and smiled down at the audience and said breathlessly that it had been very difficult to judge this one because there were books for young adults as well as for little children in the reckoning. "but then we came to a solution, we decided we'd look at the best in each category and then make our choice."

which means, if she'd been given all the books in fiction, non-fiction, translation and children's books to judge, she'd still have looked for the best and made a choice.

"a little child's picture book" was being judged against "stories for young adults"--- in her own words. and she had chosen the best.

siddhartha sarma's the grasshopper's run got the children's prize, and later siddhartha told me: i needed that money for a project i've planned. he's a very earnest young chap with a talented pen. but his book is young adult fiction, not children's writing. the distinction should have been made much earlier in the competition.

later, when i thought about the lady's breathless admission on stage, and this multi-category aspect of the judging, i thought: why am i feeling this way? is it simply a case of sour grapes?

no, it wasn't. it was a case of wine and whisky being placed under one category. and judged as the same thing.

T M T (the mumbai trip)

It was a wonderful trip, sponsored by the Vodaphone Crossword Prize people. and Mumbai, of course, was Mumbai. the hospitality was great, and there was this event management group and a girl named meghann d'sa who took good care of us, and when geeta (my wife) was late coming back from lunch with an old classmate and i was getting worried, meghann became the first professional i met who could be caring, efficient and effective all at the same time. she called geeta and then called me back and said with a smile in her voice, she's safe and coming back!

we went to my friend bobby's house, spent time with his lovely daughters, met his wife lata in the evening, and this was a highlight of the trip. one evening we all enjoyed ourselves at the leopold cafe where they're busy pointing out to everyone that this is where the terrorists struck. each violent mark is marked and preserved for a prying posterity. every foreign visitor to india was at leopold's that night. jam-packed! and cacophonic.

the first evening, we had a little event at one of the crossword stores. writers gurcharan das, kalpana swaminathan (who finally got the fiction award), salma and i debated the topic: will e-books ease out books? even though i was the only one whose book was now an e-book (lament of mohini) and whose books (the magic store of nu-cham-vu and maria's room) are also available as digital "talking books" for the blind and the dyslexic, i said books will never die out. gurcharan on the panel and bobby from the audience, as well as another youngster, said: you're just being nostalgic, books will soon be replaced by e-books. it was a good time out for us, and we enjoyed ourselves. two mornings later, geeta and i had breakfast with salma, the writer of the tamil book, the hour past midnight.

it rained almost throughout the trip. i'd forgotten my phone at home, so i was relatively free and untied. there was, of course, the nervous thread leading up to the awards function on the 20th. the venue was the ncpa, where i used to listen to music and also watch many of those "art movies", late70s and 80, when i was working for the indian express across the road.

in fact, there was so much that was familiar in spite of the way the city has grown. and it was wonderful to drive through on the sea-link. on my last visit, i'd seen it being built. this was truly enchanting, the spreading wings of the bridge trailing over the ocean froth.

and then the evening, and the awards function....

Sunday, June 27, 2010

A Fresh New Review!

Whispers from the past


from FOLKS MAGAZINE

Maria’s Room
Author: Shreekumar Varma
Publisher: HarperCollins
Price:Rs 299

Award-winning poet of Dark Lord and Bow of Rama, Shreekumar Varma, has penned another gripping volume, Maria’s Room, a novel longlisted for the inaugural Man Asian Literary Prize. Set against the backdrop of Goa, with flashes of the past from Chennai and Kerala that present the reader with a kaleidoscope of memories to choose from, Maria’s Room depicts Raja Prasad’s journey from the present to the past and back.


At the commencement of the novel, one gets the sense of moving along a slow, winding river but as one progresses further into the novel, the current of the stream picks up. Tactically divided into three parts, each part gives the reader vital information to solidify one’s understanding of the central character, Raja. Overall, the rain-lashed, dreary and dark setting provides a very somber atmosphere through the novel, correlating with the protagonist’s mood.


The first part is the foundation of Raja’s history which becomes a vital link in solving the mystery behind Maria. The second and third parts are where the actual action takes place. The complicated relationship between the guilt-ridden Raja and the “delectable” Lorna comes into play from the second part onwards where we see the past clash with the present. Raja’s bizarre companionship with Fritz at the Capo’ Sun seems intriguing yet aggravating at times, its importance revealed to us only in the last part. The third part is like a fast-paced thriller where the mystery of Maria’s past and Raja’s existing predicament come together in a frenzied embrace to spring the most unbelievable surprise at the reader.


“What did Goa have to offer? Its beaches and its old-world, Portuguese-driven culture, its charming Konkan tradition, its music and good cheer, feni and drugs, a couldn’t-care-less attitude, its hospitality, churches and temples, and the gift of slow time.” This beautifully languorous description of Goa’s beaches, churches, villages and people creates a hypnotic effect upon the reader. It is as if we are absorbed into the novel, along with Raja, trying to find the missing puzzle pieces that lead to uncovering the scandal behind Maria. The obscurity surrounding “The Other Thing” and the hesitancy of Mrs Pereira and Milton in divulging any information about Maria’s death adds to the element of curiosity. Throughout the book one feels as if there is an invisible force guiding Raja towards Maria, as if they are somehow connected despite being spatially separated by decades.


Raja reconciles two aspects of a writer — creator and imitator. For him, the moving power of the past is rooted in images of unfulfilled love and deception, with emphasis on what ought to be. Well into the third part of the novel, we see an explicit manifesto of his literary intentions: The genesis of the story, how he turned to writing to escape reality, the problems of inspiration, the creative process and the role of his untamed imagination. So often in the course of the novel Raja tries to understand what makes for a good story which, to him, is like a word picture or a speaking picture. There are whispers from the past that help guide him through his literary dilemma, but the effect of these “whispers” is nothing short of incredible. Not just Raja, the reader too is dazed by the discoveries he or she makes.


The primary theme deals with the inner conflicts that romance precipitates in a man. Raja is viewed from many angles — literary artist, creative genius, guilty husband, anxious lover and detached son. Dramatic and intense, Maria’s Room has the ability to make the reader grasp the book and not part with it till the last piece of the puzzle of this mental jigsaw is assembled satisfactorily. The final chapter of the book is the most attention-grabbing, so I suggest pick up Maria’s Room and get started in order to find out just how the psyche can play games with us when we least expect it

Wednesday, May 05, 2010

The Job of a Writer

There's a piece of dialogue in my play Midnight Hotel where a writer's asked about his output. Trying to distract another character from the realisation that there's a ghost in the house, the writer talks fast and frantically about his job as a writer while all sorts of weird ghostly noises almost drown his voice. If the audience could hear what he was actually saying, then they'd have heard this: when he confesses he's a writer, people ask: Okay, and what do you DO? (Which is a common enough question as far as budding writers are concerned) "And then they look you up and down; you might as well be begging. Or in jail."

That part of the play is probably more real than fiction.

How does one explain the hours one is cloistered in his room, whipping up the imagination? And, of course, you can't always be expected to come up with something to show them, for God's sake!

I've been through this spate of interviews after Maria's Room, and everyone keeps marvelling at how many different things I'm working on. It's true: there are reviews, translations, a novel, a short story, and two other novels in the back-burner.

Problem is, there are so many days when nothing happens, and I face the night with a sigh. The fact that I'm sitting before the computer screen looking busy doesn't translate into copious outflow. Since there's no one to answer to (except for three deadly looking deadlines), I keep smiling and carrying on.

Ah, a writer's life's not so easy after all!

Monday, April 19, 2010

Reflections On Bureaucracy From A Hot Bench

I was at the RTO this morning, and found so many touts who operate the shaky area between user and officialdom. They are the open faces of "corruption" or "bribery" or second channels that we all talk about. If only we could remove corruption, we say.

I was sitting there waiting endlessly for my turn to come and I thought, why not legalise the tout so that the "extra" we pay out becomes not "bribery" but fees? If there are service providers who run around and procure things for those who are willing to pay for them, then it would be easier to come down upon official bribery. But then, I thought, what about meagre salaries and bad working conditions that make these officials demand bribes in the first place?

If you think down the line, following each of these arguments to their natural conclusions, we find that the only answer is: people should stick to their jobs and do them as well as possible. They should earn their salaries. Which means, if everyone from the Minister to the lowest level clerk did his/ her job with honesty and diligence, and not be swayed by extraneous considerations, the country would perk up and things would get done and extra money needn't be siphoned off and everyone would get their requirements attended to, and we wouldn't need to be sitting on a bench in the height of summer, distracting ourselves from profuse perspiration by reflecting philosophically about bureaucracy and politics and the good of our good nation.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

The View From The Other Side(s)

"And so it is no surprise when a few pages later a girl’s ghost from the past disturbs the psyche of the protagonist. It is time then to settle for what Varma thinks is a detection set-up. But the strong hints get to be so loud that we are never surprised by anything that happens. Will there be a replay of Maria’s tragedy?"

"Raja tells us too little, until it is too late. Even the murkiest mystery arises from facts, and our interest in his situation could only really be piqued if we knew something solid about it. But his narrative, though rich in thought and observation, is short on facts. We are led to a conclusion without ever being primed for it. And when we finally understand, not just the secret of Raja's pathology, but the bare details of it, we wish we'd been told before."

These are crucial extracts from two good reviews of Maria's Room. The first appeared in the Sunday Herald and was written by noted critic and academician Prema Nandakumar. The other's from The Hindu's Literary Review, and is by Aditya Sudarshan, a young writer whose first novel was published last year.

The first complains that I give away so much in the story that there's no suspense left. The second says that I give so little away that it isn't fair to the reader. The rest of the reviews-- both of them-- have fairly nice things to say. Aditya calls it an atmospheric, highly literary novel. And Prema says: "Varma is a scene-watcher alright and has a way of coming up often with sentences we like to caress."

But their criticism leaves me confused, in complete contrast to each other. How will I learn from criticism? :-(

here's an interview from livemint.com and a review from the Sunday Tribune's Spectrum.

Friday, April 09, 2010

After the March


After last month's march, it's been a relatively quiet April week.

Jan end saw the launch of Maria's Room in Chennai. It was a fulfilling affair. Despite the fact that invite cards got lost in transit-- and consequently the organisers felt there wouldn't be much sense in asking for a bigger room-- so many turned up that a large number of people had to stand throughout, and I felt bad for them so I too kept standing (though, of course, I didn't tell them it was because of that!) There was so much fun and atmosphere that I thought it was a dream launch for Maria.

In Feb, my father-in-law passed away. He'd celebrated his 80th birthday last November. He watched the morning's spiritual programme on TV, lay down to rest for 15 mts before his coffee came, and didn't get up after that. An admirable way to go, no pain or helplessness, just a soft slipping away; but a rude and lasting shock for those he left behind. There'd been then a mad, long trip cutting across three states, on fabulous 4-laned highways, reserve forests and mountain slopes. It was mad all right. Unable to procure train/ flight tickets, we hired a car and drove to Kerala. We reached at 3 a.m. The cremation was already over by then. And then my son wondered if I could drop him in Bangalore. So, a bit after lunch the following day, we were on the road again. Through Mudhumalai and Bandhipur forests, and just before midnight, had dinner at a fabulous place en route called Kamat's, just after Chennapatna. My son kept telling me, we'll stop there, and the hours kept going, and hunger kept gnawing, and finally, when we reached, it was well worth the wait. And we reached Bangalore past midnight. My cousin Balan was kind enough to open the door for us with a smile, but then his house has always been a haven in Bangalore for us.

The day after I returned to Chennai, on Feb 19th there was a story-telling session for Scholastic at Landmark in the Citi Centre mall. There were six of us story-tellers. And so many kids with blankets and lit candles lolling on the carpet looking ruthlessly sweet, and their parents and curious onlookers, and I had to rouse myself to melodramatic moments to make a mark on these kids whose attention would only focus on anything above the ordinary. I certainly did try, but my friend Shobha Vishwanath (of Karadi Tales) and her son Kaushik stole the show, entertaining the kids and us. It was a very satisfying evening and, despite those tempting blankets, I don't think any of the kids dozed off.

28th Feb, there were two events! Which is most unusual for me, since even one event generally feels like too many. The first was in the afternoon at Loyola College, I was chief guest at the valedictory event of their Lit Fest. Though they were behind time, they graciously permitted me to address the students before the finale, so I could leave in time. Staying far away and having an evening event made me a bit flighty. But being with students is always fulfilling, and I enjoyed myself thoroughly. I even joked around with students from MCC, my old college. In the evening, the British Council sent a car to pick me up and took me to the Landmark book-store in Nungambakkam, where two British writers, China Mieville and Mark Billingham, were reading from their books as part of the BC's Lit Sutra. (pic above) I was the moderator, but as it often happens (notably during a Shashi Taroor book function some years ago, when I quickly yielded my "moderation" to the then diplomat's exuberance), it happened this time as well!

In March, first there was a reading of Maria's Room in Bangalore. I was reading along with débutante writer Mathew Menacherry. We got along fine, and I guess we both gave the audience our funnies' worth. Bangalore readings and events (even when my play Midnight Hotel was staged there) are always great because I've so many close relatives there that it becomes like a jolly, intimate festival. The next day, Mathew and I were together again at the launch of another book, an anthology, and we were supposed to do another "talk show", but I didn't enjoy this one very much, probably since the event achieved a breakthrough in my afternoon nap. But I was so happy with friends at this event.

I went to Kerala then to be with Geeta, and it was a quiet and unhurried few days, and I could also do some reading and writing. The day after I returned, I was chief guest at the Ethiraj College's national Literature Conference. I'd sent in my keynote address earlier, so I was at ease, but the speech sounded too stilted, and I knew I needed to be more "then and there" when I delivered it. It was a wonderful morning, and an academic atmosphere that I enjoyed after a very long time. I met Prema Nandakumar there (she was part of a panel discussion) and she hinted that she'd be reviewing Maria's Room as well (she'd reviewed Lament of Mohini for the Deccan Herald years ago).

Maria's had three reviews to date; at least those are the ones I've been able to access. Asian Age, The Hindu and Deccan Herald. The DH and Hindu reviews held diametrically opposite views! One said I'd dropped so many clues that the ending was no surprise at all. The other said that I'd sprung such a surprise at the end without at all leading up to it that it wasn't funny!

I'm waiting for more reviews!

As for Maria's Delhi launch, it was planned for April 10th, and I spread the word, but there was some problem with the venue, and now it's been postponed to April 21st at the Full Circle Book shop. Writer Jaishree Mishra will be reading along with me.

So let's see how it goes.


Saturday, February 27, 2010

Back!

Poor Thinko's been so starved. November's a long way behind. And so many things have happened since.
Just couldn't stand his lonely expression. That's why I came and started this. No time to continue, though,
lots of reading and a bit of writing to do. A college conference, a panel discussion, a book launch, a reading and another college conference coming up. When I'm more relaxed, I'll come back and post.

Promise, Thinko!