t h i n k o p o t a m u s

2012-01-26T20:00:00.000+05:30

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.....

2011-11-07T18:16:00.001+05:30

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

2011-09-28T15:47:00.000+05:30

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....

2011-09-28T14:25:00.000+05:30

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.
I also rediscovered an old hobby.

A couple of results:

However much I go around and look at people, spaces and atmosphere, I always end up with my little white friend with the sooty face. All the staf call him "sahib" because of his red nose and redder eyes and white colour. He now is accommodative of everything everyone calls him. That's him rubbing his soot on the watchman. The man in green is, of course, the gardener.

Just remembered this that happened many months ago...

2011-04-25T23:06:00.001+05:30

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....

2011-04-25T21:51:00.000+05:30

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

2010-11-02T02:16:00.000+05:30

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

2010-10-19T00:29:00.001+05:30

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

2010-10-10T00:13:00.000+05:30

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)

T M T (the moment of truth)

2010-09-10T14:41:00.001+05:30

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)

2010-09-10T13:44:00.002+05:30

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....

The Hindu : Life & Style / Metroplus : Books bridge the gap

2010-09-03T20:41:00.000+05:30

The Hindu : Life & Style / Metroplus : Books bridge the gap

A Fresh New Review!

2010-06-27T21:06:00.001+05:30

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

The Job of a Writer

2010-05-05T00:13:00.003+05:30

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!

Two Faces of Maria!

2010-04-24T17:28:00.004+05:30

Vinod Joseph is a writer and lawyer based in London. Here's his review of Maria's Room:

http://winnowed.blogspot.com/2010/04/book-review-marias-room-by-shreekumar.html

and in Epic India.

And here's journalist Ashwini Gangal's review in the Mumbai Mirror:

http://www.mumbaimirror.com/article/136/2010042320100423151624540eb00d668/Marias-Room-beckons.html

Reflections On Bureaucracy From A Hot Bench

2010-04-19T16:53:00.004+05:30

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.

The View From The Other Side(s)

2010-04-18T23:46:00.004+05:30

"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.

After the March

2010-04-09T11:18:00.004+05:30

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.

Back!

2010-02-27T19:26:00.002+05:30

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!

Interview in ET Madras Plus

2009-11-06T15:33:00.002+05:30

Interview by Shruti Padmanabhan. Pics by A.R.Sumanth Kumar.

Economic Times Madras Plus. November 5, 2009.

How I Became a Public Speaker

2009-10-25T15:01:00.006+05:30

One evening, I was driving a friend to the club. He had to speak at an event in a couple of days. “This is the first time,” he said. “It’s making me tense. I’m feeling very, very stressed!”
I tried to console him with the usual it’s-nothing-after-all-what’s-life-if-you-don’t-try-everything kind of speech. He said, “You can afford to say that, you’re good at public speaking.” There was silence. Then I said, “I’m not! And about ten years ago, I was ten times more scared than you are right now!”

It was in 1988, and an old college lecturer of mine had called. “I’m retiring, and I’d like you to take my place.” I said I had my office and work. He said it was just for a year till another professor returned from his sabbatical. So I applied and, to my horror, I was selected. I spent sleepless nights, haunted by suicidal visions. I cribbed to everyone I met. I was someone who went pale if asked to deliver the vote of thanks at Rotary meetings. I simply couldn’t imagine facing a crowd of students.

But I went ahead and did it.

In my first class I took an essay by Churchill. He wrote about being a nervous speaker in spite of being an acknowledged statesman. It came like a pat from the heavens. I completed the class without faltering or fainting. I learned hardcore techniques. In one exam hall, confronted by seventy noisy students, I banged my books on the table, stared them in the eyes and said: “Make one more sound and---” I left the threat hanging in the silence that continued till the exam was over.

I used humour and presence of mind to carry off my college lectures. I duplicated this at meetings I had to address. I had personal heroes like Dr C. S. Ramachandran and my uncle Dr. R. M. Varma who had audiences eating out of their hands. They had the stuff. I simply tried frantically to emulate them.

It wasn’t a cakewalk. I remember a packed audience at the JBASC women’s college with girls hanging out of windows. Once there, someone told me I had to address them on vocational options. It was a nasty surprise. I’d no idea what to say. I plodded on bravely, talking about journalism and creative writing. They wanted more. I had nothing else! The girls dropped down from the windows. Others grew restless. Someone else took over, allowing me a relieved exit. When this happened once again at MCC---swelling crowd and nothing to deliver---I learned a lesson: never speak unless you know exactly what the programme’s going to be.
I’m influenced by audiences, whether it’s small and intimate or an ocean of faces in a large auditorium. I focus on faces and follow their responses. In perverse moments, I fix on a restless face and my speech wanders so that neither they nor I know what’s going on. When I realise I’m wandering, I detach myself and watch from a vantage point, like a soul having fun above a deathbed.

I also learned to expect the unexpected.

I arrived early one morning to inaugurate the literary society of the Meenakshi College for Women. I spent some time chatting with the Literature lecturers over coffee. Before proceeding to the meeting hall, I wanted to visit the restroom. They said only girls used the one on that floor, the common one was downstairs. But classes were going on, and I could probably make a quick trip to the girls’ toilet. I hesitated only for a second. I was still in there when the bell rang. Before I knew it my cubicle was surrounded by girls chatting and laughing as I now know they do in these places. I froze. I went pale. My heart was hammering. A decision had to be made. I opened the door and stepped out. There was a stunned silence. My eyes rooted to the floor, I marched out smartly. And then the tide of voices broke.

When the meeting began, I looked up to see my audience. Some naughty, others embarrassed, some giggling helplessly. The lecturers didn’t know what was happening. The girls knew, and so did I. To make it worse, one of the lecturers said, “Maybe our presence is bothering the girls---you go right ahead.” And they left, closing the door and leaving me alone with the girls. It took humour, presence of mind, valour and a discussion of my novel, which some of them had read, to save the day and me.

I’d learnt my final lesson. There are three elements in public speaking: You, the Audience and God!

The Value of Mirrors

2009-10-13T19:17:00.004+05:30

The process of writing can get a bit sticky towards the end of your work.

You're worried about whether it's really working or not. You weren't at first, but as you near the deadline and all those finishing touches have to be frozen, you start wondering. And then, until someone delivers a verdict, you're virtually on pins and needles.

It's funny, come to think of it. We know what we're like, but we need the constant presence of a mirror to find out.

You present yourself-- whether as a writer or as an individual-- in what they used to call as-is-where-is condition. There's nothing you can drastically change, actually. And still you look for that outside opinion, that assurance or advice, believing that it would nudge us towards a corner of perfection.

If only we stop to think: who is our audience? Do they have nothing else to do but assess us against some mysterious yardstick? And then, what is this yardstick? I received a forward recently which quotes Isaac Asimov on IQ levels. An academic answering questions set by an academic may be rated with a high IQ. Likewise, a mechanic, a plumber, an animal lover and so on. It depends on what our core abilities or interests are. We could all have a high IQ in our respective fields.

Actually, in this time of blogging and citizen journalism and opinionated comments all over the place on the internet, everyone is potentially looking you over, assessing you and passing judgement. It may be a published work or a private comment you made, but you're being seen and talked about. You can't change or alter yourself to please them all!

I think of the stylized acting of our older stars--- their unique mannerisms that have been fodder and livelihood for thousands of mimicry artists. It could have been an unfortunate gesture or an ungainly movement that stuck and then became a sign of celebrity! Like Talat Mehmood's "quiver" which he was bent on removing, but was advised by a music director to "let it be", and that quiver is what makes him so unique and underlines his sensitivity!

So, if you're looking at mirrors, it had better be for confirmation, not to receive judgement.

The mirror's the same, but our mood changes, and what we see could be different each time.

Three Years Ago....

2009-10-06T01:07:00.003+05:30

was re-reading this and thought it would be
interesting to re-present it here!

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

WRITERS & REACTORS

This one's about an article I wrote in the Sunday Express on March 26th, a day before World Theatre Day. I read the piece in print when I was in Bangalore.

Returning to Chennai I found the following email in my inbox:Sreekumar/Sushila Ravindranath:Sreekumar, I read your article entitled "Giving purists a decentburial". I give below my impressions/queries on the same..1. Could you please give me a definition of the word "purist" as usedin your article?2. I question your sentence " Now all that we imaginecan actuallytake place on stage - we simply sit back and take it all in." Is thatthe function of a truly discerning theatre viewer, theatre lover ortheatre critic? If one were to theoretically pose experience asgreater than understanding when viewing an art form, I do agree. But,this does not mean that we do not critically examine all that we seeon stage or on the walls. The primary function of a critic is tocritically analyse and review a production.3. You seem to imply that "rural phantasy" is an innovation inasmuchas it has used music and dance. Is that so? Madras Players have usedit in thearly fifties in their production of Hayavadana. Why go thatfar? This year this technique has been used in the productions of"Nagamandala" and "Hayavadana" by late Bhagyam and Yamuna. The pointis not using music and dance or video clippings (like Brecht'smontagetechnique) which is important. How you use it and how far ithasbeen integrated into theatre. In this respect, "Rural phantasy", inmy opinion has failed.4, If you mean by the word "purists" traditionalists" or "classicists"who have frowned upon the two productions you have mentioned in yourarticle, you are sadly mistaken. It is traditionalists and those whodo not know much about modern dance who have respectively endorsedboth productions. So, please do not be under the false impression thatit is modernists or innovators who have criticised these productions.The criticism is not about the techniques used, but how they have beenused.5. Apart from everything else "Rural Phantasy" has been criticisedfrom an ideological point of view and not merely a technical point ofview. Some of us have found the subliminal messages of the playreactionary, revisionary, anti-female, anti-male, anti-village,anti-nationalist freedom struggle. So, you should look into what wehave to say before you pass generalised remarks about anyone whocriticises the play.6. It is very easy, Sreekumar, to churn out sensationalistjournalistic articles without substantiating your points or enteringinto a dialogue about the same. These throw-away statements on the eveof the World Theatre Day make me wonder why we celebrate such days atall. I realise why criticism and that too art criticism is notdeveloping in this country. We seem to have equated "criticism" or"review" with "eulogy" , haphazard crowd pulling techniques withinnovation and experimentation, and unquestioning acceptance as thehallmark of dignity and intellectuality.I feel that these kind of articles give a wrong kind of impression toreaders and hence this email. I do realise that serious and insightfulcriticism is out of place in the modern scenario of performing arts.However, i thought I cannot leave this article unquestioned, hencethis email. Kind regards vasanthi

For those who know, Vasanthi is a blunt and passionate reviewer and critic.Since I had to have my say as well, here's the response I sent her:

dear vasanthi, i was in bangalore for some days and found your email on my return. i thought i would finish some pending work and then sit down to replyat leisure. which was when someone pointed out your review of "rural phantasy" on a website. it provides a point of reference for my response. by "purist", i do not mean traditionalist or classicist as you suggest. i mean the theatre-goer who brings baggage along with him. heconstantly compares what he sees with what he expects, and growls at the difference. the purist labels theatrical productions and ticks off thoseelements that do not appear to "fit in". which is why i spoke about giving theatre its due and judging "each production within its own uniqueframework". otherwise, innovation would always have to gather strength from its struggles against claustrophobic criticism. critics watching a performance with the backing of their potential reviews imagine they are interpreting it for the benefit of their readers,including future audiences. they believe they are informing the audience. when this leads to the idea of a classroom of theatre-goers and a lofty critic,the seriousness and significance of criticism is lost. you write in your review: "The reception that the play received also proves to me that Chennai for all its cultural pretensions, is ready onlyfor entertainments, extravaganzas, carnivals and melas and not for serious theatre." i can hardly think of a more sweeping, generalised andopinionated statement in a serious piece of criticism. it dismisses whole audiences and the uniqueness of theatre in a few words. it goes well withsimilar statements in the review: "The acting was tame, stereotypical and mediocre." you add: "we had not gone to the theatre to watch a templeevent, but a contemporary theatre production." it would be easier, wouldn't it, to go to a restaurant and chose your preferences from a menu. in my opinion--and it is a personal one--when the critic watches a play with his baggage firmly in hand, he is alienating himself from theperformance and already sitting in judgment. the role of the critic is to watch a play within its own terms of reference, and then go back and analyse itin the light of what he has learnt and experienced of theatre. thus this role ideally consists of two parts: watching the play within its own framework,and then holding it up against the light of expertise. which is also a good way to avoid knee-jerk reactions. in the case of the play being discussed, i remember the playwright/ director telling people (i think it was during a televised interview) toenjoy themselves. later, they could go back home and try to think of the issues involved. I do not, therefore, see the "pretension" that you mention inthe following extract from your review: "....The difference is that commercial cinema or theatre does not claim to be anything other than what it is, butin this case there is a pretension of good and even contemporary theatre couched under the entertaining and even seducing elements such as music,dance, satire, seemingly progressive ideas etc." you quote from my article ("Now all that we imagine can actually take place on stage - we simply sit back and take it all in.") and ask: "Isthat the function of a truly discerning theatre viewer, theatre lover or theatre critic?" i didn't say it was. in fact, in my column in the same paper, i hadonce written about the invasive nature of some films that erodes the participatory role of the audience. i was simply speaking of today's scenario inthe "purist" article, and not blindly endorsing its validity. next. "You seem to imply that 'rural phantasy' is an innovation inasmuch as it has used music and dance." i do think that the play hasopened a door. bringing a musician and trained dancers on stage "as enhancement" (my words) in a "glamorous dramatisation" (my words) iscertainly something that has been tried for the first time in english theatre as far as i know, and it paves the way for future possibilities. i didn't reviewthe plays i mentioned, i merely placed them in the context of where theatre is headed. "Some of us have found the subliminal messages of the play reactionary, revisionary, anti-female, anti-male, anti-village, anti-nationalistfreedom struggle. So, you should look into what we have to say before you pass generalised remarks about anyone who criticises the play." you seemto think that i was referring to your review in my article. i only read your review when someone mentioned it after i received your email. i was, in fact,referring to remarks from some members of the audiences of both plays i referred to. if i have to "look into" what you have to say, you will, i hope,afford me the same privilege before passing judgment on what i "seem to imply". for the record, and voicing my own thoughts, i did not think the playwas "anti" anything. if the reason why "art criticism is not developing in this country" is solely because of "throw-away statements" and "sensationalistjournalistic articles" such as the one i wrote for the sunday express, we should begin worrying about such art criticism, shouldn't we? i trust this finds you well. love & regards, shreekumar

The Option To Read

2009-10-05T13:54:00.007+05:30

I was inaugurating the Right to Read Campaign's first Indian "road show" in Loyola College, Chennai, a couple of weeks ago when i realised that what we always take for granted is often a luxury or even impossibility for many others. For example, 70 ml people in India cannot access the printed word. Not because of illiteracy but due to some disability or other--- like blindness, dyslexia, etc. Click on the title of this entry to know more.

When I spoke during the event I said something that's been with me for some time. Calling people mentally challenged or visually challenged-- things like that--- tends to separate them and dump them with insurmountable disadvantage. We are becoming so politically correct in so many things today that we are losing touch with human correctness. I noticed during the event that when the blind spoke, they called themselves "blind" while the sighted called them "visually challenged". I said, in that case we should have sugar-challenged (diabetics), size-challenged, etc. When we realise that we are ALL a blend of advantage and disadvantage, ability and disability, then we can see the vulnerability in others as easily as we see it in ourselves.

I remember, exactly 20 years ago, I was "scribing" for a blind student in MCC, the college where I once studied and was at that time teaching for a year. I was writing the student's exam answers as he dictated. All at once, he stopped and said, "Sir, are you Shreekumar Varma?" Puzzled, I said yes. He told me he'd heard me speak during a programme I'd put together for All India Radio three months earlier, and now he recognised my voice! It was a revelation. The world that we cannot grasp is a bigger world than we think.

20 years later. Here I was at Loyola, kicking off a campaign. Well, I also promised them I'd do everything I could to drive the message home. And I am--- on Facebook, Twitter and "word of mouth".

Soon after that day, I contacted my editor at Harper Collins and brought her and Ms. Nirmita Narasimhan of CIS (centre for internet & society) together. The Copyright Act, unchanged since it was born (two years after me!), still makes it illegal to transform printed works into convenient forms for the disabled. I hope my Maria's Room will be read by many who can't read other books. We are still exploring ways of accomplishing this. The novel will be out in November this year, and will be a source of great satisfaction to me: the cover design is my son's, and everyone would have the option to read it.

Passion at MIDNIGHT!

2009-08-29T13:14:00.002+05:30

Anu & Mike--- or should we say "Usha" & "Hari"
in Midnight Hotel

The KERALA launch

2009-08-29T13:06:00.002+05:30

Much Time To Sit & Stare....

2009-08-29T12:20:00.005+05:30

Anita Nair, Shinie Antony, Jayanth Kodkani & me. Hormis
Tharakan sat extreme left.

The idea of Lament of Mohini started when I was---what?--- 14 years.

And then it changed and spurted and cantered, and became a book in 2000. The play Midnight Hotel was ready about six years before it saw the stage. Maria's Room began when I was on vacation in Goa after the various launches of Mohini. Harper Collins will bring it out in November 2009. Nearly a decade later.

What I'm trying to say is, give me time and wasted opportunities, and my work (novel or play) can go on and on. Would that be the ideal of every author? An ever-growing work? I can imagine an artist stuck to his canvas for years, changing and adding and removing, yearning for a state of perfection.

You then live with your characters and what they're doing, and you're comfortable with that because the novel/ play has become another home. When it is finally closed and the reader/ audience takes over, then you have lost your home because other residents have come in and they're free to comment, criticize, praise, and what they have isn't completely yours any longer. The delight of being published/ staged is an aphrodisiac. The feeling that your work is still yours is contentment.

So which is the better bet?!

the state of things...

2009-08-27T00:36:00.002+05:30

It's that time when creativity is being burdened by the effects of creativity.
My children's book was "published" on August 15. That's it. It's more than ten days later. I haven't heard anything after that. I'm wondering whether this too will pass like the previous one without any readings or launches, courtesy the publisher. I remember being asked during a TV interview years ago whether I'd be up to the task of promoting my own book, networking and getting things moving. And I said, it's a pity the writer can't just sit and write; that he has to be market-savvy and pushy as well. My ideal life would be to live in a big old house in some isolated place (peferably by the sea) and venture out only to watch my own plays or for readings. The rest is writing....

My son has come up with a cover for my next novel due November. Great stuff. Son really shines. Pity we have to wait for two months to see it officially.

COMMIT!

2009-08-19T19:28:00.003+05:30

I've been hearing a lot about social commitment and being honest about what you write and about bringing the actual state of the world into your page. I've watched a film on a writer, listened to various audience comments during a book reading and generally soaked in this commitment ambience this last week. If you're honest to your work or concept, won't that do?

There are writers and writers. There are stories and stories. Wouldn't it be more dishonest to drag in a feeling you don't feel but feel it should represent you because of what others feel?!

I see the world. It will come out in my writing. I don't think I should struggle to bring it out. If I feel strongly about something, that will definitely come out. In one way or the other. In one or more genres that I write in. Let's see, I do novels, plays, short stories, essays, the odd column, poetry; what else? I will express my thoughts about the world somewhere. So, readers, thanks for reading, and for the ideas, the writing is my side of the bargain.

Ninth & Tenth

2009-08-18T17:42:00.004+05:30

Friday and Saturday saw the ninth and tenth shows of Midnight Hotel. The director has already told me he feels the play has done its bit in Chennai, and may not have an audience after this. There was a Kochi show scheduled for August 30 that was cancelled because of some sponsorship issue. I was looking forward to having the play in Kerala. Maybe it will happen one day. Anyway, ten shows in Chennai and Bangalore's good enough, and except for the last two, all shows played to full houses.

There's a Twitter entry from Kyra: one of their waiters jumped into the arms of the barman during an especially scary moment in the play! These are moments that make life worth living!

You write a play, and somehow it works. Director Mithran realised the nuances, and he's also a magician with lighting, design and sound. The cast was the best. And the backstage crew was excellent most of the time. Like I said, somehow, sometimes, it works. I wanted a play where wit was a major element, and it seems to have worked most of the time. The ninth show wasn't such a big success, both cast (in the beginning, anyway) and audience were out of energy. The next night made up for it. The audience was fantastic. I don't think my laugh-lines did so much during any of the previous shows. It was a fitting finale! And the cast and crew rose magnificently to the occasion. There were speeches earlier, this being a fund-raiser for CMC Vellore's patient programme. Both days the director held on to the mike, but I couldn't resist almost grabbing the mike from him after the play the second day and saying: "This is is the night of August 15th, and here we have Midnight's Children!" It was an uncontrollable urge, and I gave in!

Dr Binayak Sen, the human rights activist, was chief guest both nights, and he told me he enjoyed the play. He too must have seen the difference on the 2nd day. We had dinner at Mithran's house where there was a small discussion about what he'd been doing, his arrest and thereafter. Also, a bit of an ideology debate with Mike and Anu, the lead pair, and Dr Sen. Was this progress vs. human rights? Or was even the "progress" open to question? What was the role of the Maoists? But it was a dining-table discussion, not the debate the subject deserved.

Sunday afternoon, there was R. V. Ramani's film on Tamil writer Sundara Ramaswamy. Very interesting, because Ramani casts his net wide and catches other fish too. So there's an ambience that reaches outwards from Su Ra. Personally, I felt there could have been tighter editing at some places, but I enjoyed the leisurely feel nevertheless. I would have discussed it with Ramani if there was time. I liked the strand with the Brahmin-nonBrahmin debate. In many cases nowadays, there's too much discussion about differences and divisions instead of addressing the immediate problem. And the discussions continue, becoming more and more heated and alienating all parties, and the problems continue to grow.

The Magic Store Of Nu-Cham-Vu

2009-08-17T18:03:00.003+05:30

He's finally here!

You'd probably find him in the stores right now. Nu-Cham-Vu, the greedy little creature from Anchan Bay is here at last. And recommended by no less than the redoubtable Ruskin Bond himself.

The book is called The Magic Store of Nu-Cham-Vu, and it's from Puffin.

The age group is a bit wide, from 9 to 175 years. So, you see, few kids are left out. The exciting thing for me is, my son Vinayak has done the illustrations and those who've seen the cover picture are raving about it.
"A long time ago, when the moon was still green and the sky had just recovered from a severe case of rainbow measles, there was a children's store on Ju-Juicy Street. It had a glass window upfront, with a large pair of eyes painted on it that blinked heavily during the rains. A tiny little waterfall flowed down the windowpanes. It sold things you and I know nothing about."

That's how the book begins.

It's interesting how this book took off. When I was in Scotland on the Charles Wallace fellowship, my friend had asked me to write a story for children. And I did, sitting at my desk in my office in the Dept of English in Pathfoot building at Stirling University. It was a little tale, and told of strange people with funny names. Including a monster named Nu-Cham-Vu. He was, if I may say so, the hero. And villain. But, alas, no one came to take Nu-Cham-Vu off my hands. I can understand. He's that sort of a fellow. Years later, when my friend joined another publishing house, she asked me for "that story you wrote, remember?" Of course I remembered! I sent it to her. Her colleague and another friend of mine asked me if I could alter the story to suit even younger children. I was reluctant to do so, so they left it at that.

This time I didn't want Nu-Cham-Vu to sit around moping. A moping Nu is a dangerous thing. I sent him off to my editor friend in Puffin. She submitted it to the editorial group and they said: why not make it a book, a bigger story? Aaahh! I did!

And then came Vinayak's "stunning illustrations", as the blurb says.

It's publishing date was Independence Day, August 15.

I hope it's reached the bookshops by now.

The Nu book for children.

Fruits of Labour

2009-04-16T21:49:00.004+05:30

It's that kind of a year. Like the time squirrels wake up from their hibernatory absence and find a pleasant surprise waiting for them. A surprise that shouldn't actually be a surprise because they've been slogging at it before they went to bed. For me, this year is laden with the fruits of what I've been doing all these past years. Midnight Hotel is into its second run, and poised to travel too. It was written six or seven years ago. Five was written even earlier and maybe staged in June or July if all goes well. Maria's Room is scheduled to be out later this year through Harper Collins. It was written during the first two years of this century. The Magic Store of Nu-Cham-Vu (from Puffin) will be out only in August, but it was started (as a short story) in 2004, at my desk in the University of Stirling in Scotland. And two anthologies-- the first, Kerala Kerala Quite Contrary (edited by Shinie Antony) is being launched in Delhi by Rupa tomorrow. I have a story (prose cum drama) in it called Fort Lines. And another anthology's coming up with my poetry module for kids. Both were written early last year. Now as I work on my Scotland novel, I can also wade out now and then to see the fruits of an earlier labour.

preview in the new indian express, feb 27, 2009

2009-02-28T00:43:00.000+05:30

My latest play

2009-02-28T00:39:00.000+05:30

what an ending...

2008-12-01T14:22:00.005+05:30

the first day of the last month.
the last post was on the second day of the first month.
what a year this has been.
terrorists brazenly walking in from the sea, entering mumbai and plucking out lives. as if there's neither law nor sensitivity left. if this is all it takes to appease god & religion--- or is it simply the lure of money in some cases? if this is all it takes, then let's wipe out god & religion from the face of the earth and hide them in our hearts. who'll find them then? who'll fight for what they can't see?

when those who rule this land continue with their vacuous, guarded, yellow ruminations, the brave will rise up and act.

youngsters with blind eyes and itchy fingers, frozen hearts that can't distinguish between faith and indoctrination. what wounds have caused them to inflict such destruction? will no one feel safe again? will our land be our cremation ground strewn with ashes of hope and courage?
empty words!
what will happen will happen.
the brave will rise up to shore up our defences. the brave will rise up.
when those who rule this land continue with their vacuous, guarded, yellow ruminations, the brave will rise up and act. let there be no more such surprises. let's be prepared to face the worst. or stay home locked up forever. for these rulers are not people to look up to.
we've split so much that from a country we've degenerated into groups and sub-groups and pathetic little divisions that no one can count.
democracy doesn't deserve us!
democracy as it is practised today in india is about dynasty rule, parochialism, bravado, exploiting voter vulnerability and a rare unique selfishness that sees only power and its comforts and ignores the swamp next door.
democracy has degenerated in this country. brave, politically correct words have become redundant and irrelevant. we need to take a different step forward.
those young terrorists entered through a chipped and worn-out door. let's fashion a new, stronger door and move it to a safer place.
let's join together to rule. and not allow these greedy dynasties to continue to pretend democracy.
let's begin.

BACK AGAIN!

2008-01-02T19:33:00.000+05:30

And so here we are again, almost half a year later.

The last time I'd written about my novel Maria's Room which had made it to the Longlist of the Man Asian Literary Prize.

Well, it's been proved--- the theory that what goes up must come down-- and vice versa. I hadn't expected the book to make it to the Longlist. It did.

After that, I expected it to reach the shortlist, and probably even make it to the final place. It didn't!

Anyway, I'm busy writing more. A children's novel for Puffin and the play with the classical dance theme. Did I say, busy writing? Right now, distraction is the name of the game, and I'm having a tough time staying on course.

Why did God have to make my writing tools and the Internet on the same platform? Sometimes, God has a way of economising. Or maybe, it is convenientising. Anyway, though I have the chance of skipping from novel to play, I often skip from both to the Net, and surf so much that time passes without adequate notice, and I return to roost in uncertain areas of my work, where nothing seems to move.

But then, this is the beginning of the New Year, and that has a habit of inculcating a new mood and a new purpose. So, there. My uncertainty, and its possible solution.

Let's see what 2008 brings.

Just CLICK

2007-07-23T20:29:00.000+05:30

Click on the title of the previous post to enter the
Man Asian announcement page.

Maria begins her journey....

2007-07-23T19:47:00.000+05:30

So there, I'm back. With some good news, to boot. The reason why I wasn't here has now brought me back.

Polishing the final draft of MARIA'S ROOM for the Man Asian Literary Prize kept me away.

Now they've announced that Maria's in the race. We'll know her fate come October.

Until then it's a crazy fantasy trip for Penguin (Puffin, actually), a set of stories linked by this weird half-monster character (whose name I'll only disclose later). That has to be sent in by January. Another deadline is for a play that has lots of emotion and lots of dance (Bharathanatyam). Each work as different from the other as imagineable.

Here's an excerpt from the Man Asian website.

Hong Kong, 20 July 2007 – The Administrative Committee for the 2007 Man Asian Literary Prize
has today announced the longlist of works for this inaugural prize :

Tulsi Badrinath, The Living God
Sanjay Bahadur, The Sound Of Water
Kankana Basu, Cappuccino Dusk
Sanjiv Bhatla, Injustice
Shahbano Bilgrami, Without Dreams
Saikat Chakraborty, The Amnesiac
Jose Dalisay Jr., Soledad's Sister
Reeti Gadekar, Families at Home
Xiaolu Guo, 20 Fragments of a Ravenous Youth
Ameena Hussein, The Moon in the Water
Nu Nu Yi Inwa, Smile As They Bow
Jiang Rong, Wolf Totem
Hitomi Kanehara, Autofiction
N S Madhavan, Litanies of Dutch Battery
Laxmi Narayan Mishra, The Little God
Mo Yan, Life and Death Are Wearing Me Out
Nalini Rajan, The Pangolin's Tale
Chiew-Siah Tei, Little Hut of Leaping Fishes
Shreekumar Varma, Maria's Room
Anuradha Vijayakrishnan, Seeing The Girl
Sujatha Vijayaraghavan, Pichaikuppan
Xu Xi, Habit of a Foreign Sky
Egoyan Zheng, Fleeting Light

This longlist of 23 unpublished works of Asian fiction in English will be reviewed and evaluated by the 2007 ManAsian Literary Prize judges, who will announce a shortlist of works in October 2007. The winner will be announcedon Saturday, 10 November at an awards ceremony in Hong Kong.

The judging panel for the 2007 Man Asian Literary Prize is: Adrienne Clarkson, former Governor General ofCanada (Chair); André Aciman, New York-based author and scholar, and Nicholas Jose, writer, scholar and formerCultural Counsellor at the Australian Embassy in China.

The 2007 Man Asian Literary Prize longlist was chosen from among 243 submissions received from all over Asia.Approximately two thirds of the submissions came from South Asia ; the largest single group of submissions wasfrom India. The rest came from throughout East Asia. The Prize received submissions from well-established aswell as first-time authors, and entries included translated works as well as works originally in English.

[Some of the news reports that have appeared about the Long List talk about 23 Asians being selected, of which 11 are Indians--- I've counted 12!]

OOoooops!

2007-04-10T20:56:00.000+05:30

Did I say the man in specs in the previous post?
Wonder which man in specs it is....

Nonsense Pictures

2007-04-10T20:15:00.000+05:30

And The
Nonsense Continues
These are pictures taken at the Chennai launch of The Tenth Rasa: An Anthology of Indian Nonsense edited by Michael Heyman who's the merry man in specs listening to my reading.....

Date: January 7, 2007. Place: Oxford Book Store.
Click on the title to see the source of these pictures which were purloined at about 8. 10 p.m. Indian Standard Time to grace this page.

Poems On A String

2007-04-03T23:26:00.000+05:30

I thought I'd post a few poems this time. They are

on my website, but this seemed a good enough time.

DUSK
when the sun dips as if forever,
when streaks of feeling
silver the horizon's brow
and the waves start up in excitement,
frothing and insatiable,
my thoughts betray me
and i can barely feel the world...

ART OF CYCLING
the red new bike, barely smaller than his eight year-old frame
totters in a straining arc of steel and young thigh,
the quick of possession has already settled to drudgery and fear,
and his rolling screams are repeating a pattern.
i can close my eyes and doodle away those days of sentiment
like fluorescent on virgin canvas.

my dreams are squeezed out in futile doses
let me pause and guide him on his way
and pat him for his speed, encourage him to take the curves
explain afresh the pleasures of dangerous riding
to race the steeps and dare the climb abetted by the wind.
there's no life in cruising, son, your father's hopes are done.
let's tell them no, the rules of championship aren't weakened yet:
on a summer's day, there's much to be said for a marathon.

(the bike too has grown, as you can see!)

TOUCH
touch me again
for you've proved beyond doubt
touch cures

all day we cry
without pain
and struggle to run
all day for the night--
let the cloud split
its gloomy swelling
and pour
for you've proved beyond doubt
rain cures.

and, finally, one of the few poems I've written born of thoughts

from reading a newspaper report.

KUMARAKOM

(after the boat tragedy)
days after the drowning when companion villages
raised the memory of their various dead,
and boats and blame were re-examined,
and officials packed up, exhausted,
dredging out certificates and compensations;
one evening when the wails had stilled the sky
like ghost singers fading out, and the lamp
reached the threshold like any other evening,
the old woman hobbled out, muttering her prayers
and cursing each member of her family
for leaving her alone,
unaware of the reason
for the terrible silence in the house
that invaded even her deafness.

Words, words, words

2007-03-19T11:48:00.000+05:30

The problem with writing something big--- like a novel, that is--- is that you have a carry case of "matter" wherever you go, and all sorts of impressions and ideas get collected in it, so that sometimes you feel tempted or even obliged to add all that stuff in your work.

It might present itself as an interesting possibility; only when you read through later or get a second opinion do you realise that you've been "hacking" into your own work through sly interpolation of peripheral detail. It takes such a long time, and you often get tired with words. If you read something really good in the meantime, there is a possibility that you can return fresh to your own work (without being too inspired by what you've read, hopefully). So the problem is Ideas & Words. I get into this obsession with words sometimes--- the sound and "feel" of a word; so much so that the meaning and the "fit" often suffer.

Freshness is all.

The word, its meaning and context have all to sharpen and live for you to be able to do the same for your reader. But when you're reading through large tracts of text you've written, you sometimes get fed up or alarmed or bored, and even good writing can appear stilted through over-reading. The best thing, I find, is to put it aside and return later.

But, still, re-reading is a must. Polishing your work when you're fresh is part of the craft. For me it is instinctual writing followed by craft. Which becomes the art! Having been a newspaper and magazine editor helps you to be precise and objective if not ruthless when confronted by favourite turns of phrases that don't really belong in your work. I have new writers sending me their work now and then to be evaluated, and the problem in most cases is that they've not read and re-read. And they just don't have it in them to cut out portions that don't belong.

Freshness is a mental state that is brought on by physical readiness. Walking, exercising and meeting people are "distractions" that become essential for a writer.

Which is why I wonder why I'm still sitting and staring into this screen day in and day out (sometimes, night-out too) ad losing all that freshness.

Check out my Slide Show!

2007-03-17T20:35:00.001+05:30

The Great Stick Dance!!

2007-03-15T23:48:00.000+05:30

By the way, in the previous blog....

Click on the little stickman to see

the Great Stick Dance!

Writers & Writing Buffs

2007-03-15T22:07:00.000+05:30

I must tell you of my encounters with writers (and their wives, in some cases). I admire the writing of R. K. Narayan for the sheer life of his observations and his observations of life. His words are simple, but they live. I did my M.Phil thesis on

his works. It was called Inaction & The Hero in R. K. Narayan. I wanted to meet and discuss the thesis with him (more as an excuse to meet him, actually) but people dissuaded me saying that he didn't welcome students who came to him as part of their research. So I didn't. But one day he turned up at the Landmark bookshop in Chennai (Madras, actually) and sat there signing books. (The fact of the matter is, he too had been dragged into the Great Promotion Bandwagon.) Anyway, I waited impatiently in the queue and was determined to talk to him as soon as he took my book to sign. I didn't know what I'd say, but I would. Something. He did take my book. He did sign. As I opened my mouth to launch my question, some kind soul brought him a flask of water, and there was a moment of opening and pouring and drinking and a little comment from the water-bringer and a little reply from the great man and then the moment passed, and so did the queue.
I was luckier with Arundhati Roy. At that time she knew fame but not the Booker. There was a reading at the British Council. There were cocktails, and I noticed her standing all by herself near the steps. After her reading I'd asked her about her almost uncanny usage of words and she'd replied that it was just a matter of using the right word in the right place. When someone else mentioned her perky little nursery rhymes that are scattered all over her novel and asked her if she'd sing a couple of them for the audience, she said, "I generally do my routine after some time into a party!" I went up to her now and asked: "Is it time now to do your routine?" She laughed and shook her head and pointed to the number of people from Kottayam and thereabouts, some her relatives, who were present. Later when signing her book for me, a photographer clicked and the next day's Hindu had this huge picture of me and her-- in fact more of me than her! That morning I received phone calls congratulating me. I said, call me again when it's the other way around! (Ha, ha! Though I'm not saying that will never happen!)
Much before that was William Golding the Nobel Prize winner and author of The Lord Of The Flies. Those days I used to be invited to every literary do at the British Council since I'd won 2nd prize in their playscripts competition (not to mention a consolation prize for a play that's since been lost to posterity and me). Anyway, my wife was at a table with Golding and I was with Mrs Golding. A third person at the table, not knowing what to ask her since we knew next to nothing about her, laughed heartily and said, "And so, Mrs Golding, do you also write anything?" And she gave him a pleasant grin and said, "Yes, of course I do, I'm a writer too." This was news! We gawked at this delectable piece of information, and the man asked, "What do you write?" She replied gravely: "Oh, I write pornography!" A moment later, looking at our wide-open mouths, she burst into laughter, collapsing that frozen moment.
Another wife was Padma Lakshmi who came along with Salman Rushdie to a party. While the writer was holding forth about his writing and other matters literary, I was at the bar with her. After a while, she said, "I think things are getting a little too serious and boring over there, I wish someone would ask him something lighter." I obliged by asking him about his role as an "actor" in the film Bridget Jones's Diary where he'd played himself. He looked up with a grin and said, "Ah, now we come to the intellectual part of our discussion!" And the resultant laughter lightened the atmosphere. "There's nothing much to tell," he said but obviously it was something he'd enjoyed doing because he spent the next ten minutes talking about it.
There have been other writers like Shashi Deshpande (who regaled us with tales of her Paris trip at dinner during a Bangalore writers' conference), Han Suin, Amitav Ghosh, Tim Murari (who's become a friend though I don't meet him too often, but I've shared the dais with him on at least two occasions--- one of these was at the annual day of a cultural association where they were distributing plaques and shawls to all those who'd spoken or performed during the year. We were the only two who didn't get the shawls and Tim whispered to me, why aren't we getting a shawl; and I whispered back: maybe it's because we didn't perform for them, we only spoke, maybe we should perform the next time!)
Any other writers?
Can't remember at the moment. But I will. Next time.
What are blogs for anyway!

Whew, what blogs!

2007-03-13T21:01:00.000+05:30

It's amazing but it must be said---- of all the blogs I've tried consuming during my last couple of blog-hopping days, the most consistently entertaining and consummately written one is Gounder Brownie, B.A, Englis Speaks. No second thoughts about that. And she's got a whole tail-load of fans commenting in awed and amused voices each time she does her thing.

Harking back to that Next Blog syndrome, it's tempting to leave aside everything and keep moving on the blogopath, skipping only the ones in Spanish, Japanese and other such popular languages one can't read. It's not just a question of moving worlds, it's a question of moving through minds. And some of them are hilarious, others teary-eyed, near tragic. And there are, of course, pictures that pop up along the way presenting prime visual props. And who would have thought writer Susan Hill's blog would be so passionate about horses and dogs.

Another blog of interest is a writer's domain called Writing Passions. The writer Susan Abraham has filled her pages with interesting and visually appealing links; and her prose and poetry are a great draw. She too has a trail of fans.

2007-03-11T23:45:00.000+05:30

When you go Next Blog...Next Blog...Next Blog, you come across so many interesting ones. Some of them are visually Wow, but in a language you can't follow which is a pity. There are so many people, both anonymous and not-so-anon, who make you want to meet them and talk to them and discuss what they've written and what they've seen and the people they flaunt around in their blogs, but they too pass by like faces on a railway platform, and you're left cold till the---you're right, the Next Blog.

But do visit Earbrass & Satlaj and Saritha when you can.

The first and the last have Blogs here. The second one will start her blog with enough encouragement like this, and then we could visit her too.

2007-03-11T23:29:00.000+05:30

And here's another one.

An anthology of short stories from Bangalore published by Unisun. There are several interesting stories in this collection, and it's been edited and brought together by Meenakshi Varma.

I've got two stories in there: The Supervisor (my original title was Day And Night) and Jasmine For The Blue God.

It should be out in bookstores in no time at all.

Don't tell me you don't have time for a cup of chai!

2007-03-11T23:03:00.000+05:30

Here's the nonsense I've always been fated to write!

When musey musician and eminent man of sheer nonsense, Michael Heyman, thought of putting together Indian nonsense, I must thank my friend (and Mike's co-editor) Anushka for leading him to me too among his travels to the many nonsense writers of this country.

Sukumar Roy enjoys Edward Lear-like cult status among aficionados of Nonsense here, and other well-known authors spout nonsense without being recognised for it. Even though there is a huge body of work available in India which can be reclassified under this new exciting genre, it hasn't been done. Now they've all been catalogued and hung out to dry by Mike who came all the way from the US to do this. Mike's become a friend now.

Another Yes-Yes about the book is that the illustrations including the ones on the cover are by Vinayak, my elder son. Do they say nonsense runs?

Especially in families?

My contributions are The Ghost Office (prose) & Grandmother's Tales (poem)

DO TAKE A LOOK!

2007-03-11T19:40:00.000+05:30

Rama: The literary avatars
The New Indian Express
Sunday March 11 2007

In the Milky Way of literature, planets and stars have a way of connecting. They collide, merge and submerge. Big stars consume smaller ones and a new planet may absorb an older star, forging an entirely new identity. It is indeed a promiscuous cosmic panorama where the reader has to travel miles of darkness to reach the light.

As for a writer navigating this vast outer space, it is virtually impossible to remain neutral and unimpressed, and to keep his hands to himself. The bright light of a star may lure, and the mystery of a distant planet may fascinate him into recreating just such a world for himself. Inspiration is a heady source for new ideas! It is also easier on the reader who gets a reference point. For instance, if I am inspired by RK Narayan, my reader is blessed with a double-entry system when he visits my world. Besides deriving inspiration, a writer can also use an archetypal work as a canvas on which to paint his own impression of contemporary society. The danger remains, however, that a writer may draw from a previous work - say an epic— and create a new world that could impinge on the reputation of the original work. Here’s the problem: Readers who aren’t too familiar with the epic may read the new work and imagine that they now know the epic.

I came upon such an instance recently. Invited to interact with the audience after watching a play based on a great epic, I found them deeply affected by the portrayals. A few of them obviously found no difference between the play’s puny protagonist and the epic’s mighty hero. This is a burden that literature must often bear. In fact, it’s a cross that any mythological hero has to carry. Having triumphed over (or succumbed to) the tricks and trysts of destiny all through the currents of an ancient story, he or she then falls prey to the plots and politics of every subsequent writer who needs an archetypal scenario to fit his theories in. Listen to this: “You are inventing a new interpretation for statecraft, you are putting it to test and making it practically usable … But I fear that this statecraft which breaks and smashes relationships of the soul is an eternal curse to this earth. Please allow me to depart … I do not wish to stay here any more…” And a little later: “Please permit me to leave…this is my last darshan of you … May the Lord who is all powerful bless you!” (Kanchana Sita, OUP, Eng. trans. Vasanthi Shankaranarayanan)

This is an excerpt from a dialogue in CN Sreekantan Nair’s Malayalam play based on the Uttara Kandam of the Ramayana. Surprisingly, the speaker is Hanuman, and this is part of his condemnation of Rama for abandoning Sita. That the eternal devotee Hanuman (generally visualised as being in deep meditation of Rama) should turn around and vent his bitterness on him accusing him of injustice and cruelty, and turn sarcastic to boot, obviously suggests the manipulation of a well-known story and its characters. The playwright was a pillar of Malayalam theatre (and established the modern theatre workshop, the Nataka Kalari). In his play Rama can do no right, there is virtually no other character who doesn’t revile or lampoon him, and he himself is shown as being regretful, stubborn, helpless, superstitious, under the yoke of Brahmin gurus, and not in clear control of any situation. It is a reversal of everything we have come to believe of the hero.

The Ramayana has undergone many forms and interpretations. Valmiki’s original version was literature, the poetic story of Raghuvamsam and its greatest hero. But there are two moments of inconsistency with its heroic depiction of Rama: when he kills Vali through subterfuge, and when he uses harsh words against Sita after reclaiming her from Ravana, prompting her to walk through fire to prove her chastity. These two incidents have puzzled ordinary readers through the centuries. Even Rajaji, reinterpreting the classic for children, expresses his dilemma; but they can probably be interpreted as a tragic flaw in the hero by those who enjoy the story as literature, or as the compulsions of a dispassionate ruler who cannot submit to a personal agenda by others. The story ends with his coronation. The Uttara Kandam, where Sita is banished to the forest, was added later. In subsequent versions, its literary character gave way to the spiritual, and Rama was deified. Tulasidas and Kamban, singing in the realm of pure bhakti, ironed out every wrinkle by seeing Rama as the incarnation of Vishnu come down to vanquish evil and protect mankind. Sita suffers no indignity, she is willing part and participator in the vast cosmic theatre being played out. The Adhyatma Ramayana (anonymous, but attributed to Vyasa, and part of the Brahmananda Purana), which is in the form of a doubt-ridding dialogue between Siva and Parvathi, is both intensely spiritual and high philosophy. Here Rama is a detached observer, he is witness-consciousness, able to transform without undergoing transformation himself. It is said that while Krishna all along realised his divinity, Rama was born and lived as Man and had to be educated by Brahma about his true divine identity. In the bhakti versions of the Ramayana, he is God himself and acts in the capacity of an omnipotent protector. There is no place for doubt or predicament in this persona. All this goes to show the hierarchy of interpretation that epics like the Ramayana enjoy.

And then at the tail end of the series comes Sreekantan Nair’s Rama. Praised in the earlier versions as Sita Rama, Raja Rama, Veera Raghava and Kosala Rama to highlight the perfection he achieved in every role he played, Rama is here reduced to playing Bourgeois Rama, a heartless king who exploits his position and who is in turn exploited by wily Brahmins. Sage Vasishta, an embodiment of love and compassion, is turned into a cunning advisor whose salacious purpose in life is to maintain the unfair ascendancy of the Brahmins.

There are two ways you can use the archetypal element in literature. You can tell a completely new story and hark back to elements in myth to point out parallels. Readers who are familiar with the old story can then relate easily to your story. This is what Madambu Kunjukkuttan does in his Malayalam novel Ashwathama. The reader, already familiar with the eternal angst of the legendary character, identifies immediately with the new protagonist. The second alternative is to retell an old story with all the original characters intact, presenting it in the light of a new authorial philosophy or insight. MT Vasudevan Nair did this with the Mahabharatha hero Bhima in his novel Randam Oozham. And it is what R. Manoharan did with Tamil theatre. You show up an aspect or angle that was neglected or irrelevant in the original text - that is, you proceed to stretch it to its natural conclusion, or investigate some interesting proposition, either character or plot potential, that remained unexplored in the original. The latent danger here is two-fold: one, you are altering the very fabric of an old story to accommodate your new theme; two, there is the possibility that the antiquity of your story may rob it of a contemporary impact and thus weaken the force of your message. Also, the strong, already ingrained image of the mythical characters in the reader’s mind may act as a deterrent to accepting fresh inputs.

Sreekantan Nair’s Rama is a personal Rama. In its own unique framework, his play works as a diatribe against the exploitation of women and the evil aspects of the caste system. But it needn’t be confused with the Ramayana.

2006-12-17T23:14:00.000+05:30

Thinkopotamus

It is Sutlaj's comment that has brisked me up to leave this post.
It's nearing the end of the year, and nearly all my writing has been done to complete my novel.
Funny about that, though. The novel had already been completed in 2001. But then my publishers put forward this condition: that I write a non-fiction book first, and then they would take up the novel and take it up in a big way. I agreed after a lot of thought, but the book stayed stuck and reluctant.
In the meanwhile, short stories and poetry for various anthologies happened, as also a novel for children.
Now my editor has moved on to another publishing house, and I have been polishing and doing a bit of work on the novel; and a week ago, I sent it in to the new publishers. Now, somehow, I feel that I can get on with the non-fiction; as though the weight of the novel has been taken away from me. Whew, these are personal idiosyncracies, and they do get in the way of writing. But it's also what's fun about the process of hibernation where you close in on yourself and have nothing but a keyboard and screen for company for hours--days--together. Maybe 2007 will see this blog grow bigger and stronger.
Maybe.

2006-10-02T14:47:00.000+05:30

It's been more than two months since my last post. The interesting thing here is that it's like diary-writing, since I can almost completely believe that no one else is reading any of the stuff I write. For a writer that can be powerfully motivating, since everything else he writes is written and urged for public consumption!

Here, if one goes by the utter lack of any comments, it's Me and Me Alone, and the diary syndrome is a great way to keep pouring out all my thoughts. It's been Pooja week and I've just taken out all my written and in-the-process writing from the pooja room. It's a day of hibernation after which we feel sort of refreshed and rejuvenated, we're tempted to feel that, that is. I'll be back in a couple.

2006-07-31T18:46:00.000+05:30

Saw a play at The School, KFI, last evening.

Risen From The Ashes, if I remember right. It was born out of a sandwiching and layering-on of serious issues, and built up painstakingly by the students themselves. Knowing the workings of the school, it isn't difficult to guess how much is the contribution of the Principal's wife and main inspirer, Sumitra. She takes them through fire to get the final product. I was impressed. Though there is raw energy and often unrefined emotion, it is wonderful to realise how much these kids know and how much they intuit and how strongly they can react.

Forget about my own schooldays when we thrived on drawing-room comedies drawn-in from the West. I think the times and the attitudes have started offering us a different brand of students. If they all get together seriously--not losing the Fun, of course--all that "impossible" talk of dreaming a dream where the youth of today can fashion a brave new world will turn slowly, miraculously Possible. Imagine a world where we see Globalisation in terms of getting to know each other rather than expanding our territory at the expense of whoever gets in the way. A kind of Grab-alisation, if you like.

Today's kids seem like they can do a bit of cleaning up.
If they don't get sidetracked by adults along the way, that is.

2006-07-24T20:06:00.001+05:30

DECEIVED!

I come back after some hours and read what I'd written.
And find that the last post is almost identical--- most of the way--- to what I'd written a couple of posts earlier!
How's that!
Floating along on the wings of memory, you sometimes find yourself getting dropped!

2006-07-24T12:50:00.000+05:30

There's writing and writing.
And the more you write, the more you discover that there's so much more to discover!
Right now I'm working on a film script. It was strange territory at first, but now it's going on as if I've been doing this all my life! It's probably because I've watched so many films in my life, all kinds, and in all kinds of moods--- analytical, nostalgic, mast-bhari enjoyment, etc. The script is based on the first play I ever wrote and which won a prize and was staged by the British Council. You can see its director's photo a couple of posts earlier, the one that begins : "I was told that there's some problem...." This script is for a friend whose first feature film is now being readied for release.
It's a bit of an eerie thing, this one that I'm writing, and it's great fun to get in there and imagine visually all that's going to happen. I guess that's how scripting really works. And after that, you sort of sit back and give it a fresh glance to see if the concept sits well on the action.
Or something like that!

2006-07-21T10:50:00.000+05:30

My latest book is finally out! It's from Penguin, and I've got my author's copies, and hopefully we'll soon find them out in the bookstores. It's called DEVIL'S GARDEN: Tales Of Pappudom, and it's for children, 10 years upwards. I had great fun writing it, imagining myself in the thick of an eerie jungle, especially the days I spent locked up inside my room in a resort in Alleppey as rain and wind lashed against the windows. Which is a great way to write!

Pappudom is a normal run-of-the-mill village on the banks of the
Tarangam River—or so everyone thinks. But Pappu, a boy living in
the village, knows better. He visited the past once, with the ghost of
his great granduncle, Grand Pappu, after whom the village is named,
and together they had defeated the British army using the ‘Forces of
the Future’. But now, events are taking a turn for the worse.
In ancient times, the most horrific spirits known to man had been
sealed in Chekuthan Thodi, or Devil’s Garden, the forest adjoining
the village. A pact between the humans and the spirit world had ensured
a boundary between Pappudom and Devil’s Garden. But someone
from the village has violated the pact and ventured into the forest.
Now the spirits too want to break the pact and enter Pappudom,
which can only lead to havoc and destruction. And, to add to
everyone’s concern, a boy has gone missing…
Pappu goes into Devil’s Garden, looking for the lost boy. But there
are some ghastly shocks awaiting him there, and he finds himself
confronting armies of marching trees, a tapping spirit that will sap his
soul, and the crafty Transformer Spirit. Will Grand Pappu reach him
in time to save him? And how does Jolly Jones of the British army fit
into all of this? Can the Guard of the Bridge repair the breach, or is this
the beginning of the end . . .

2006-07-17T22:18:00.000+05:30

i was told that there's some problem with accessing blogs, and that the government--or whoever--was blocking blogs.
so when surfing, i decided to check it out.
clicking on my blog, i drew a blank, so i thought it's true, they're blocking blogs, but then i came to the blogger site and signed in, and here i was. so i thought why not post an entry, even though i have absolutely nothing to write and i didn't want to take up valuable blogging space by writing on irrelevant things, so i think i will stop here except to say that i'm trying to work on a film script at the moment, a reworking of the story of the first play i ever wrote and which won that british council prize about 20 years ago. it's really interesting writing a script because you're seeing things happening, shots and expressions and close-ups and eerie lighting (since that's one of the things my story, especially the film version, has)---and when you visualize all that it's doubly exciting, and the excitement fuels the writing and hopefully livens up the script.
by the way, i ran into the director of my play after yes, 20 years, and that was a couple of months ago. like all unexpected events, he appeared, we spoke, and he left, promising to be back in the country soon. actually, i was speaking to a city club's book discussion group, and afterwards i get this call on my mobile, are you still here, i saw your name on the notice board. and i said, yes, i'm here, and he turns up, none the worse for 20 years and having directed my play! i've got his photo in here. a rather sad effort in the dimness of the club's restaurant with my mobile phone, but it gives an idea. his name's vinod anand.

2006-06-23T23:17:00.000+05:30

A long time ago, when the Sholavaram races were in full swing, a group of us gathered one night outside Buhari's on Mount Road. Being a time of Prohibition, drinks masked in soda bottles were consumed behind the main building. Our group included riders who were going to whip their mobikes to a frenzy on the next day's tracks. The next day some of us would be part of the cheerers-on at the pits. But this is not about the next day. This is about the previous night. As we walked down the pavement outside Buharis, a vendor sat there with his product---a green frog attached by a wire to a little balloon that one held and squeezed to make the frog jump. And he was calling out as part of his sales pitch: "Jembing frog, jembing frog!" And one of our guys wanted to buy one, so he picked it up and tried in vain to make it jump. And he returned it to the vendor saying: "Jembing frog, something wrong!" That phrase has stayed with most of us. Today, my Thinkopotamus is behaving more like that "jembing frog", jumping away on April 1 and returning on June 23! Let's see if we can keep this frog's "jembing" under control from this point on.
Anyway here's another pic. Vinayak at the Masquerade reading.

2006-04-01T11:14:00.000+05:30

here he is! i'd like to formally introduce Thinkopotamus. say hi, and he'll be your friend for life. for the life of this blog, that is.

2006-03-29T12:49:00.000+05:30

WRITERS & REACTORS
This one's about an article I wrote in the Sunday Express on March 26th, a day before World Theatre Day. I read the piece in print when I was in Bangalore. Returning to Chennai I found the following email in my inbox:
Sreekumar/Sushila Ravindranath:Sreekumar, I read your article entitled "Giving purists a decentburial". I give below my impressions/queries on the same..1. Could you please give me a definition of the word "purist" as usedin your article?2. I question your sentence " Now all that we imaginecan actuallytake place on stage - we simply sit back and take it all in." Is thatthe function of a truly discerning theatre viewer, theatre lover ortheatre critic? If one were to theoretically pose experience asgreater than understanding when viewing an art form, I do agree. But,this does not mean that we do not critically examine all that we seeon stage or on the walls. The primary function of a critic is tocritically analyse and review a production.3. You seem to imply that "rural phantasy" is an innovation inasmuchas it has used music and dance. Is that so? Madras Players have usedit in thearly fifties in their production of Hayavadana. Why go thatfar? This year this technique has been used in the productions of"Nagamandala" and "Hayavadana" by late Bhagyam and Yamuna. The pointis not using music and dance or video clippings (like Brecht'smontagetechnique) which is important. How you use it and how far ithasbeen integrated into theatre. In this respect, "Rural phantasy", inmy opinion has failed.4, If you mean by the word "purists" traditionalists" or "classicists"who have frowned upon the two productions you have mentioned in yourarticle, you are sadly mistaken. It is traditionalists and those whodo not know much about modern dance who have respectively endorsedboth productions. So, please do not be under the false impression thatit is modernists or innovators who have criticised these productions.The criticism is not about the techniques used, but how they have beenused.5. Apart from everything else "Rural Phantasy" has been criticisedfrom an ideological point of view and not merely a technical point ofview. Some of us have found the subliminal messages of the playreactionary, revisionary, anti-female, anti-male, anti-village,anti-nationalist freedom struggle. So, you should look into what wehave to say before you pass generalised remarks about anyone whocriticises the play.6. It is very easy, Sreekumar, to churn out sensationalistjournalistic articles without substantiating your points or enteringinto a dialogue about the same. These throw-away statements on the eveof the World Theatre Day make me wonder why we celebrate such days atall. I realise why criticism and that too art criticism is notdeveloping in this country. We seem to have equated "criticism" or"review" with "eulogy" , haphazard crowd pulling techniques withinnovation and experimentation, and unquestioning acceptance as thehallmark of dignity and intellectuality.I feel that these kind of articles give a wrong kind of impression toreaders and hence this email. I do realise that serious and insightfulcriticism is out of place in the modern scenario of performing arts.However, i thought I cannot leave this article unquestioned, hencethis email. Kind regards vasanthi

For those who know, Vasanthi is a blunt and passionate reviewer and critic.
Since I had to have my say as well, here's the response I sent her:
dear vasanthi, i was in bangalore for some days and found your email on my return. i thought i would finish some pending work and then sit down to reply
at leisure. which was when someone pointed out your review of "rural phantasy" on a website. it provides a point of reference for my response. by "purist", i do not mean traditionalist or classicist as you suggest. i mean the theatre-goer who brings baggage along with him. he
constantly compares what he sees with what he expects, and growls at the difference. the purist labels theatrical productions and ticks off those
elements that do not appear to "fit in". which is why i spoke about giving theatre its due and judging "each production within its own unique
framework". otherwise, innovation would always have to gather strength from its struggles against claustrophobic criticism. critics watching a performance with the backing of their potential reviews imagine they are interpreting it for the benefit of their readers,
including future audiences. they believe they are informing the audience. when this leads to the idea of a classroom of theatre-goers and a lofty critic,
the seriousness and significance of criticism is lost. you write in your review: "The reception that the play received also proves to me that Chennai for all its cultural pretensions, is ready only
for entertainments, extravaganzas, carnivals and melas and not for serious theatre." i can hardly think of a more sweeping, generalised and
opinionated statement in a serious piece of criticism. it dismisses whole audiences and the uniqueness of theatre in a few words. it goes well with
similar statements in the review: "The acting was tame, stereotypical and mediocre." you add: "we had not gone to the theatre to watch a temple
event, but a contemporary theatre production." it would be easier, wouldn't it, to go to a restaurant and chose your preferences from a menu. in my opinion--and it is a personal one--when the critic watches a play with his baggage firmly in hand, he is alienating himself from the
performance and already sitting in judgment. the role of the critic is to watch a play within its own terms of reference, and then go back and analyse it
in the light of what he has learnt and experienced of theatre. thus this role ideally consists of two parts: watching the play within its own framework,
and then holding it up against the light of expertise. which is also a good way to avoid knee-jerk reactions. in the case of the play being discussed, i remember the playwright/ director telling people (i think it was during a televised interview) to
enjoy themselves. later, they could go back home and try to think of the issues involved. I do not, therefore, see the "pretension" that you mention in
the following extract from your review: "....The difference is that commercial cinema or theatre does not claim to be anything other than what it is, but
in this case there is a pretension of good and even contemporary theatre couched under the entertaining and even seducing elements such as music,
dance, satire, seemingly progressive ideas etc." you quote from my article ("Now all that we imagine can actually take place on stage - we simply sit back and take it all in.") and ask: "Is
that the function of a truly discerning theatre viewer, theatre lover or theatre critic?" i didn't say it was. in fact, in my column in the same paper, i had
once written about the invasive nature of some films that erodes the participatory role of the audience. i was simply speaking of today's scenario in
the "purist" article, and not blindly endorsing its validity. next. "You seem to imply that 'rural phantasy' is an innovation inasmuch as it has used music and dance." i do think that the play has
opened a door. bringing a musician and trained dancers on stage "as enhancement" (my words) in a "glamorous dramatisation" (my words) is
certainly something that has been tried for the first time in english theatre as far as i know, and it paves the way for future possibilities. i didn't review
the plays i mentioned, i merely placed them in the context of where theatre is headed. "Some of us have found the subliminal messages of the play reactionary, revisionary, anti-female, anti-male, anti-village, anti-nationalist
freedom struggle. So, you should look into what we have to say before you pass generalised remarks about anyone who criticises the play." you seem
to think that i was referring to your review in my article. i only read your review when someone mentioned it after i received your email. i was, in fact,
referring to remarks from some members of the audiences of both plays i referred to. if i have to "look into" what you have to say, you will, i hope,
afford me the same privilege before passing judgment on what i "seem to imply". for the record, and voicing my own thoughts, i did not think the play
was "anti" anything. if the reason why "art criticism is not developing in this country" is solely because of "throw-away statements" and "sensationalist
journalistic articles" such as the one i wrote for the sunday express, we should begin worrying about such art criticism, shouldn't we? i trust this finds you well. love & regards, shreekumar

2006-03-20T10:52:00.000+05:30

Coming up is World Theatre Day, and things are hotting up for those who want theatre to be able to celebrate. For those who celebrate theatre, however, every new activity is just that. I find veterans are being given honurs and asked to give messages, and all sorts of issues are being taken up to be hosted with theatre.
I've been asked to do a piece for the New Indian Express Sunday magazine. It will appear the day before the Day. I guess the only thing to celebrate is that all types of theatre are welcome nowadays, from the pure to the complicatedly mixed. I saw a modern dance peformance a couple of days ago where theatrical elements are used to create minimal effects that are, nevertheless, stunning at times. I guess everything becomes or forms or is moulded into theatre.
An expression that is communicated and caught becomes theatre. That's why the range is tremendous, right from the spare serious monologue to the hare-brained extravaganza that manages to fit in everything. Nothing is not theatre if you can get an audience to watch.
That's the tragedy and joy of theatre. So on that Day, let's not split hairs, let's welcome the fact that people are interested (compared to some years ago), people are experimenting, and there is the possibility that an audience can be fired up to watch right through that range. Interest is all, and it percolates from the performers to the audience.
I have to be wooed to watch, and then I'm on my own. And the more I contribute to the experience while watching---in terms of deductions, assimilations and conclusions--- the more theatre has triumphed.

2006-03-19T14:49:00.000+05:30

SURFEIT
Talking about not having much to write---here's a deluge. I now have to write five articles, each with its own dealine, and all of them before I leave town in the middle of next week. It's fun to read when you're asked to write. And vice-versa.
To sit down and get down to some really serious work is beyond me at the moment. When I have the articles in front of me (several Word windows tucked accusingly on the bottom of the screen), I feel like closing all of them and working on a new play or on one of my three novels in progress. Or the book I have to write (the publisher tucked accusingly on the bottom of my consciousness). Somehow, like before, they will write themselves and things will be resolved before the next deluge.
Those photographs. It's strange, these are among the only pictures I have of my plays. The earlier two plays have no reminders except in my mind.

2006-03-19T11:33:00.000+05:30

PLATFORM
Those photos down there are from my play Platform which was directed by Yamuna and staged by The Madras Players to kickstart their 50th year. It's more than nostalgic, because Platform was one of the last plays that Bhagyam (Bhagirathi Narayanan) acted in, and she did a tremendous job with three characters in alternate scenes. She acted earlier too in my Bow Of Rama which was again staged by MP ten years ago. Which brings up a thought--each of my staged three plays had an interval of ten years between them. When the seed is ready but the earth waits, such things are bound to happen. The question is not, what next, but when next!

2006-03-19T11:28:00.000+05:30

2006-03-19T11:25:00.000+05:30

2006-03-19T11:00:00.000+05:30

2006-03-17T15:09:00.000+05:30

I started my first serious (that is, with the serious intention of sticking with it and not letting it fade away) blog last night (or was it today) at 1 a.m. This is the next day, 3 p.m. Once a blog gets going, it becomes an addiction, I've seen people sitting around doing nothing else, so along with my other writing, I guess this is going to be a major preoccupation as well. My fingers may fall off typing, but I'm going to stick with it.