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.
Friday, September 10, 2010
T M T (the mumbai trip)
It was a wonderful trip, sponsored by the Vodaphone Crossword Prize people. and Mumbai, of course, was Mumbai. the hospitality was great, and there was this event management group and a girl named meghann d'sa who took good care of us, and when geeta (my wife) was late coming back from lunch with an old classmate and i was getting worried, meghann became the first professional i met who could be caring, efficient and effective all at the same time. she called geeta and then called me back and said with a smile in her voice, she's safe and coming back!
we went to my friend bobby's house, spent time with his lovely daughters, met his wife lata in the evening, and this was a highlight of the trip. one evening we all enjoyed ourselves at the leopold cafe where they're busy pointing out to everyone that this is where the terrorists struck. each violent mark is marked and preserved for a prying posterity. every foreign visitor to india was at leopold's that night. jam-packed! and cacophonic.
the first evening, we had a little event at one of the crossword stores. writers gurcharan das, kalpana swaminathan (who finally got the fiction award), salma and i debated the topic: will e-books ease out books? even though i was the only one whose book was now an e-book (lament of mohini) and whose books (the magic store of nu-cham-vu and maria's room) are also available as digital "talking books" for the blind and the dyslexic, i said books will never die out. gurcharan on the panel and bobby from the audience, as well as another youngster, said: you're just being nostalgic, books will soon be replaced by e-books. it was a good time out for us, and we enjoyed ourselves. two mornings later, geeta and i had breakfast with salma, the writer of the tamil book, the hour past midnight.
it rained almost throughout the trip. i'd forgotten my phone at home, so i was relatively free and untied. there was, of course, the nervous thread leading up to the awards function on the 20th. the venue was the ncpa, where i used to listen to music and also watch many of those "art movies", late70s and 80, when i was working for the indian express across the road.
in fact, there was so much that was familiar in spite of the way the city has grown. and it was wonderful to drive through on the sea-link. on my last visit, i'd seen it being built. this was truly enchanting, the spreading wings of the bridge trailing over the ocean froth.
and then the evening, and the awards function....
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....
Friday, September 03, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
A Fresh New Review!
Whispers from the past
from FOLKS MAGAZINE
Maria’s Room
Author: Shreekumar Varma
Publisher: HarperCollins
Price:Rs 299
Award-winning poet of Dark Lord and Bow of Rama, Shreekumar Varma, has penned another gripping volume, Maria’s Room, a novel longlisted for the inaugural Man Asian Literary Prize. Set against the backdrop of Goa, with flashes of the past from Chennai and Kerala that present the reader with a kaleidoscope of memories to choose from, Maria’s Room depicts Raja Prasad’s journey from the present to the past and back.
At the commencement of the novel, one gets the sense of moving along a slow, winding river but as one progresses further into the novel, the current of the stream picks up. Tactically divided into three parts, each part gives the reader vital information to solidify one’s understanding of the central character, Raja. Overall, the rain-lashed, dreary and dark setting provides a very somber atmosphere through the novel, correlating with the protagonist’s mood.
The first part is the foundation of Raja’s history which becomes a vital link in solving the mystery behind Maria. The second and third parts are where the actual action takes place. The complicated relationship between the guilt-ridden Raja and the “delectable” Lorna comes into play from the second part onwards where we see the past clash with the present. Raja’s bizarre companionship with Fritz at the Capo’ Sun seems intriguing yet aggravating at times, its importance revealed to us only in the last part. The third part is like a fast-paced thriller where the mystery of Maria’s past and Raja’s existing predicament come together in a frenzied embrace to spring the most unbelievable surprise at the reader.
“What did Goa have to offer? Its beaches and its old-world, Portuguese-driven culture, its charming Konkan tradition, its music and good cheer, feni and drugs, a couldn’t-care-less attitude, its hospitality, churches and temples, and the gift of slow time.” This beautifully languorous description of Goa’s beaches, churches, villages and people creates a hypnotic effect upon the reader. It is as if we are absorbed into the novel, along with Raja, trying to find the missing puzzle pieces that lead to uncovering the scandal behind Maria. The obscurity surrounding “The Other Thing” and the hesitancy of Mrs Pereira and Milton in divulging any information about Maria’s death adds to the element of curiosity. Throughout the book one feels as if there is an invisible force guiding Raja towards Maria, as if they are somehow connected despite being spatially separated by decades.
Raja reconciles two aspects of a writer — creator and imitator. For him, the moving power of the past is rooted in images of unfulfilled love and deception, with emphasis on what ought to be. Well into the third part of the novel, we see an explicit manifesto of his literary intentions: The genesis of the story, how he turned to writing to escape reality, the problems of inspiration, the creative process and the role of his untamed imagination. So often in the course of the novel Raja tries to understand what makes for a good story which, to him, is like a word picture or a speaking picture. There are whispers from the past that help guide him through his literary dilemma, but the effect of these “whispers” is nothing short of incredible. Not just Raja, the reader too is dazed by the discoveries he or she makes.
The primary theme deals with the inner conflicts that romance precipitates in a man. Raja is viewed from many angles — literary artist, creative genius, guilty husband, anxious lover and detached son. Dramatic and intense, Maria’s Room has the ability to make the reader grasp the book and not part with it till the last piece of the puzzle of this mental jigsaw is assembled satisfactorily. The final chapter of the book is the most attention-grabbing, so I suggest pick up Maria’s Room and get started in order to find out just how the psyche can play games with us when we least expect it
from FOLKS MAGAZINE
Author: Shreekumar Varma
Publisher: HarperCollins
Price:Rs 299
Award-winning poet of Dark Lord and Bow of Rama, Shreekumar Varma, has penned another gripping volume, Maria’s Room, a novel longlisted for the inaugural Man Asian Literary Prize. Set against the backdrop of Goa, with flashes of the past from Chennai and Kerala that present the reader with a kaleidoscope of memories to choose from, Maria’s Room depicts Raja Prasad’s journey from the present to the past and back.
At the commencement of the novel, one gets the sense of moving along a slow, winding river but as one progresses further into the novel, the current of the stream picks up. Tactically divided into three parts, each part gives the reader vital information to solidify one’s understanding of the central character, Raja. Overall, the rain-lashed, dreary and dark setting provides a very somber atmosphere through the novel, correlating with the protagonist’s mood.
The first part is the foundation of Raja’s history which becomes a vital link in solving the mystery behind Maria. The second and third parts are where the actual action takes place. The complicated relationship between the guilt-ridden Raja and the “delectable” Lorna comes into play from the second part onwards where we see the past clash with the present. Raja’s bizarre companionship with Fritz at the Capo’ Sun seems intriguing yet aggravating at times, its importance revealed to us only in the last part. The third part is like a fast-paced thriller where the mystery of Maria’s past and Raja’s existing predicament come together in a frenzied embrace to spring the most unbelievable surprise at the reader.
“What did Goa have to offer? Its beaches and its old-world, Portuguese-driven culture, its charming Konkan tradition, its music and good cheer, feni and drugs, a couldn’t-care-less attitude, its hospitality, churches and temples, and the gift of slow time.” This beautifully languorous description of Goa’s beaches, churches, villages and people creates a hypnotic effect upon the reader. It is as if we are absorbed into the novel, along with Raja, trying to find the missing puzzle pieces that lead to uncovering the scandal behind Maria. The obscurity surrounding “The Other Thing” and the hesitancy of Mrs Pereira and Milton in divulging any information about Maria’s death adds to the element of curiosity. Throughout the book one feels as if there is an invisible force guiding Raja towards Maria, as if they are somehow connected despite being spatially separated by decades.
Raja reconciles two aspects of a writer — creator and imitator. For him, the moving power of the past is rooted in images of unfulfilled love and deception, with emphasis on what ought to be. Well into the third part of the novel, we see an explicit manifesto of his literary intentions: The genesis of the story, how he turned to writing to escape reality, the problems of inspiration, the creative process and the role of his untamed imagination. So often in the course of the novel Raja tries to understand what makes for a good story which, to him, is like a word picture or a speaking picture. There are whispers from the past that help guide him through his literary dilemma, but the effect of these “whispers” is nothing short of incredible. Not just Raja, the reader too is dazed by the discoveries he or she makes.
The primary theme deals with the inner conflicts that romance precipitates in a man. Raja is viewed from many angles — literary artist, creative genius, guilty husband, anxious lover and detached son. Dramatic and intense, Maria’s Room has the ability to make the reader grasp the book and not part with it till the last piece of the puzzle of this mental jigsaw is assembled satisfactorily. The final chapter of the book is the most attention-grabbing, so I suggest pick up Maria’s Room and get started in order to find out just how the psyche can play games with us when we least expect it
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
The Job of a Writer
There's a piece of dialogue in my play Midnight Hotel where a writer's asked about his output. Trying to distract another character from the realisation that there's a ghost in the house, the writer talks fast and frantically about his job as a writer while all sorts of weird ghostly noises almost drown his voice. If the audience could hear what he was actually saying, then they'd have heard this: when he confesses he's a writer, people ask: Okay, and what do you DO? (Which is a common enough question as far as budding writers are concerned) "And then they look you up and down; you might as well be begging. Or in jail."
That part of the play is probably more real than fiction.
How does one explain the hours one is cloistered in his room, whipping up the imagination? And, of course, you can't always be expected to come up with something to show them, for God's sake!
I've been through this spate of interviews after Maria's Room, and everyone keeps marvelling at how many different things I'm working on. It's true: there are reviews, translations, a novel, a short story, and two other novels in the back-burner.
Problem is, there are so many days when nothing happens, and I face the night with a sigh. The fact that I'm sitting before the computer screen looking busy doesn't translate into copious outflow. Since there's no one to answer to (except for three deadly looking deadlines), I keep smiling and carrying on.
Ah, a writer's life's not so easy after all!
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Two Faces of Maria!
Vinod Joseph is a writer and lawyer based in London. Here's his review of Maria's Room:
and in Epic India.
And here's journalist Ashwini Gangal's review in the Mumbai Mirror:
Monday, April 19, 2010
Reflections On Bureaucracy From A Hot Bench
I was at the RTO this morning, and found so many touts who operate the shaky area between user and officialdom. They are the open faces of "corruption" or "bribery" or second channels that we all talk about. If only we could remove corruption, we say.
I was sitting there waiting endlessly for my turn to come and I thought, why not legalise the tout so that the "extra" we pay out becomes not "bribery" but fees? If there are service providers who run around and procure things for those who are willing to pay for them, then it would be easier to come down upon official bribery. But then, I thought, what about meagre salaries and bad working conditions that make these officials demand bribes in the first place?
If you think down the line, following each of these arguments to their natural conclusions, we find that the only answer is: people should stick to their jobs and do them as well as possible. They should earn their salaries. Which means, if everyone from the Minister to the lowest level clerk did his/ her job with honesty and diligence, and not be swayed by extraneous considerations, the country would perk up and things would get done and extra money needn't be siphoned off and everyone would get their requirements attended to, and we wouldn't need to be sitting on a bench in the height of summer, distracting ourselves from profuse perspiration by reflecting philosophically about bureaucracy and politics and the good of our good nation.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
The View From The Other Side(s)
"And so it is no surprise when a few pages later a girl’s ghost from the past disturbs the psyche of the protagonist. It is time then to settle for what Varma thinks is a detection set-up. But the strong hints get to be so loud that we are never surprised by anything that happens. Will there be a replay of Maria’s tragedy?"
"Raja tells us too little, until it is too late. Even the murkiest mystery arises from facts, and our interest in his situation could only really be piqued if we knew something solid about it. But his narrative, though rich in thought and observation, is short on facts. We are led to a conclusion without ever being primed for it. And when we finally understand, not just the secret of Raja's pathology, but the bare details of it, we wish we'd been told before."
These are crucial extracts from two good reviews of Maria's Room. The first appeared in the Sunday Herald and was written by noted critic and academician Prema Nandakumar. The other's from The Hindu's Literary Review, and is by Aditya Sudarshan, a young writer whose first novel was published last year.
The first complains that I give away so much in the story that there's no suspense left. The second says that I give so little away that it isn't fair to the reader. The rest of the reviews-- both of them-- have fairly nice things to say. Aditya calls it an atmospheric, highly literary novel. And Prema says: "Varma is a scene-watcher alright and has a way of coming up often with sentences we like to caress."
But their criticism leaves me confused, in complete contrast to each other. How will I learn from criticism? :-(
here's an interview from livemint.com and a review from the Sunday Tribune's Spectrum.
Friday, April 09, 2010
After the March
After last month's march, it's been a relatively quiet April week.
Jan end saw the launch of Maria's Room in Chennai. It was a fulfilling affair. Despite the fact that invite cards got lost in transit-- and consequently the organisers felt there wouldn't be much sense in asking for a bigger room-- so many turned up that a large number of people had to stand throughout, and I felt bad for them so I too kept standing (though, of course, I didn't tell them it was because of that!) There was so much fun and atmosphere that I thought it was a dream launch for Maria.
In Feb, my father-in-law passed away. He'd celebrated his 80th birthday last November. He watched the morning's spiritual programme on TV, lay down to rest for 15 mts before his coffee came, and didn't get up after that. An admirable way to go, no pain or helplessness, just a soft slipping away; but a rude and lasting shock for those he left behind. There'd been then a mad, long trip cutting across three states, on fabulous 4-laned highways, reserve forests and mountain slopes. It was mad all right. Unable to procure train/ flight tickets, we hired a car and drove to Kerala. We reached at 3 a.m. The cremation was already over by then. And then my son wondered if I could drop him in Bangalore. So, a bit after lunch the following day, we were on the road again. Through Mudhumalai and Bandhipur forests, and just before midnight, had dinner at a fabulous place en route called Kamat's, just after Chennapatna. My son kept telling me, we'll stop there, and the hours kept going, and hunger kept gnawing, and finally, when we reached, it was well worth the wait. And we reached Bangalore past midnight. My cousin Balan was kind enough to open the door for us with a smile, but then his house has always been a haven in Bangalore for us.
The day after I returned to Chennai, on Feb 19th there was a story-telling session for Scholastic at Landmark in the Citi Centre mall. There were six of us story-tellers. And so many kids with blankets and lit candles lolling on the carpet looking ruthlessly sweet, and their parents and curious onlookers, and I had to rouse myself to melodramatic moments to make a mark on these kids whose attention would only focus on anything above the ordinary. I certainly did try, but my friend Shobha Vishwanath (of Karadi Tales) and her son Kaushik stole the show, entertaining the kids and us. It was a very satisfying evening and, despite those tempting blankets, I don't think any of the kids dozed off.
28th Feb, there were two events! Which is most unusual for me, since even one event generally feels like too many. The first was in the afternoon at Loyola College, I was chief guest at the valedictory event of their Lit Fest. Though they were behind time, they graciously permitted me to address the students before the finale, so I could leave in time. Staying far away and having an evening event made me a bit flighty. But being with students is always fulfilling, and I enjoyed myself thoroughly. I even joked around with students from MCC, my old college. In the evening, the British Council sent a car to pick me up and took me to the Landmark book-store in Nungambakkam, where two British writers, China Mieville and Mark Billingham, were reading from their books as part of the BC's Lit Sutra. (pic above) I was the moderator, but as it often happens (notably during a Shashi Taroor book function some years ago, when I quickly yielded my "moderation" to the then diplomat's exuberance), it happened this time as well!
In March, first there was a reading of Maria's Room in Bangalore. I was reading along with débutante writer Mathew Menacherry. We got along fine, and I guess we both gave the audience our funnies' worth. Bangalore readings and events (even when my play Midnight Hotel was staged there) are always great because I've so many close relatives there that it becomes like a jolly, intimate festival. The next day, Mathew and I were together again at the launch of another book, an anthology, and we were supposed to do another "talk show", but I didn't enjoy this one very much, probably since the event achieved a breakthrough in my afternoon nap. But I was so happy with friends at this event.
I went to Kerala then to be with Geeta, and it was a quiet and unhurried few days, and I could also do some reading and writing. The day after I returned, I was chief guest at the Ethiraj College's national Literature Conference. I'd sent in my keynote address earlier, so I was at ease, but the speech sounded too stilted, and I knew I needed to be more "then and there" when I delivered it. It was a wonderful morning, and an academic atmosphere that I enjoyed after a very long time. I met Prema Nandakumar there (she was part of a panel discussion) and she hinted that she'd be reviewing Maria's Room as well (she'd reviewed Lament of Mohini for the Deccan Herald years ago).
Maria's had three reviews to date; at least those are the ones I've been able to access. Asian Age, The Hindu and Deccan Herald. The DH and Hindu reviews held diametrically opposite views! One said I'd dropped so many clues that the ending was no surprise at all. The other said that I'd sprung such a surprise at the end without at all leading up to it that it wasn't funny!
I'm waiting for more reviews!
As for Maria's Delhi launch, it was planned for April 10th, and I spread the word, but there was some problem with the venue, and now it's been postponed to April 21st at the Full Circle Book shop. Writer Jaishree Mishra will be reading along with me.
So let's see how it goes.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Back!
Poor Thinko's been so starved. November's a long way behind. And so many things have happened since.
Just couldn't stand his lonely expression. That's why I came and started this. No time to continue, though,
lots of reading and a bit of writing to do. A college conference, a panel discussion, a book launch, a reading and another college conference coming up. When I'm more relaxed, I'll come back and post.
Promise, Thinko!
Friday, November 06, 2009
Interview in ET Madras Plus
Interview by Shruti Padmanabhan. Pics by A.R.Sumanth Kumar.
Economic Times Madras Plus. November 5, 2009.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
How I Became a Public Speaker
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!
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
The Value of Mirrors
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.
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Three Years Ago....
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
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
Monday, October 05, 2009
The Option To Read
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.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Much Time To Sit & Stare....
Anita Nair, Shinie Antony, Jayanth Kodkani & me. HormisTharakan 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?!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
the state of things...
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
COMMIT!
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
