An Isolated Incident by Soniah Kamal - A Review

When you see Khaled Hosseini endorse a book right on its cover, the fan in your stops thinking and picks up the book with high hopes and expectations. An Isolated Incident by Soniah Kamal, fell prey to this burden of expectations. One could call it a wrong way to approach a book, or one could hold the endorsement fortunate for it tinges the critical eye with rainbow colours. This novel written by a Pakistan born American author gave me both highs - that of a confused critic eager to verbalise the disenchantment, and that of a fascinated reader, comfortably giving herself over to the deft penmanship of the author. Let us get along to exploring both these aspects of the novel now, shall we?

Uprooting
The narrative begins in Kashmir, which is a land ridden with tensions, but happiness manages to flow in households obsessed with living the daily chores and fulfilling customs and rituals. Zari is the protagonist - a vivacious girl, in a loving family, with a marriage to excitedly prepare and wait for. Conflict strikes at the very beginning when her entire world is ripped apart, and she is uprooted from her native land to be taken to the more liberal and progressive air of the States to heal in the company of her distant relatives. Classic and expected interjection in the plot by an author whom postcolonial theorists would label with hyphenated identity. Diaspora as a literary strain is all too evident here - the distance from culture is what makes the yearning for and awareness of culture prominent - this being further complicated by a tragic heroine mourning the loss of her loved ones and piecing together her identity from a fragmented psyche and erased past.

Memory and History
Writings about lands with complicated conflicts at the very birth of them - a classic example of which is Kashmir - build upon the strains of memory and history to help characters determine answers to the 'Who am I' question. In An Isolated Incident, while Zari deals with the burden of memory and history, her hero, Billy, romanticises both to arrive at a proud and rebellious notion of his identity. His parents deliberately conceal details of his family history which lends him the frustrated feeling of anchorlessness. From conversations of childhood spent in Kashmir that he remembers, he is convinced that he bloodline is made up of great ancestors who fought for the liberation of his homeland. It is in the past that he discerns a destiny and path for future actions. Part of his responsibility towards Kashmir is fulfilled by taking care of Zari, and the other, unfulfilled, burning part is what leads him to the fields of conflict which jeopardise his existence along with that of the family.

Cultural Positioning
I forced a Kashmiri friend to read this novel along with me, for the pleasure of discussion and association. We all like seeing our childhood reminiscences inked as someone else's recollections - and my friend was no different. The novel liberally uses Kashmiri colloquial terms, making conversations rather personal and warm. Cultural identifiers in terms of Kashmiri food, customs, games, greetings are what keep the novel bound together as a unified narrative even as it traverses through vastly different geographic spaces. The keenness to affiliate to your common roots, to draw the source of your existence from there is evident in both the central characters, even as other characters snap or mutilate their past for they see it threatening their future. The political stances taken by the author (through the voice of her characters) is not what Indian audience would be too happy about - but then, if fiction is debated upon within the realm of fiction, then the stances, however jarring, come justified in the fabric of the story.

Characters and Identity

I have a personal proclivity towards novels in which I see characters grow in reaction to the situations around them. What I will laud the author for in her extremely skilled hold over her characters, each of whom had more to it than a mere flat face. The story functions in a non-linear format, and the greater depths of narratives you delve into, a newer shade about the characters are revealed. This applies to the protagonists, as well as all the supporting cast. Also, no character in the story could be called a mere accessory - they all come with a defined purpose, they help further the narrative and each of them make your reflect uniquely in the human condition, the tragedy of never having control over how your life pans out in front of you. I would personally like to congratulate the author for her absolute finesse on creating a pool of characters with unique human identities converging to a common cultural identity.

Narrative and Verdict
Its a good novel. Not exceptional, but an extremely good novel - almost like a rare piece of literary merit that lingers in your head till long after. Soniah Kamal has displayed exemplary sensitivity, sensibility and intelligence while assembling together this beautiful and thought provoking novel on the Kashmir question. In doing so, she has lent a balance to the personal and the political. Her language is leagues above the ordinary, somewhat satiating a literary appetite. The only problem I had with the book was the confusion and fragmentation which surface as the plot jumps between people, perspectives and places. Basically, there were times when the novel refused to hold me together, even thought I was willing to lie submerged in it.  The plot took long to reveal itself to me. For the longest time, I felt that this was Zari's story, but as I put the novel away, I find power in the character and conflict which Billy essays. If that was intended or not, I would not know.

However, no novel has forced me to write a review with such excitement! Since I must stop writing now in order to attend to other chores, let me just give the verdict as 3.5 stars on 5 and a highly recommended label alongside. When you manage to read this one, as you absolutely should, can we get along for a cup of tea and dwell a little on the politics and people of Kashmir, please?

Book Details - 
Author - Soniah Kamal
Genre - Fiction
Publisher - Fingerprint
Published - 2014
Price - Rs. 295
Pages - 379
Source - Review Copy

Looking Through Glass by Mukul Kesavan

They say, fiction triumphs where history and historiography meet failure. True enough. Through imagination and innovation, fiction tries to recreate those stories which are of little concern to historians - for history is not much but a political chronology, or a tale written about civilizations lost to time, or a record of battle won and lost. However, fiction is different. Fiction  seeks to carve out stories where to a non-curious, non-keen eye exist none. Even better is the experience when you see the confluence of a historian and fiction writer of great merit, as I happened to notice in Looking Through Glass by Mukul Kesavan. Mr. Kesavan is a professor in the Department of History in my university itself, though I never have had the good fortune of meeting him. I know it clear in my head what I have to say upon coming face to face with him - a simple thank you for giving me the best magical ride through the devastating annuls of Indian pre-independence history, from a post-independence vantage point.

Looking Through Glass is a novel that looks to recreate history, though not in a manner as simple as you would deem. The narrator, on a journey to Benaras to immerse his deceased grandmother's ashes in the holy Ganges, finds himself fall off a bridge into another time zone. He falls into the year 1942 from India of the 1980s and begins an amusing, but revealing tale of inevitabilities that were taking place in that period of struggle, where divisive tendencies had not only taken firm root, but were also raising their heads at ugly junctures in public and private life. The narrator, a Hindu, stays with a Muslim family - with a story and history of its own - passing off as an amnesiac. He almost acquires the role of the man of the house, till he starts on his way to Benaras, joining an anti-British rebellion en route. His travails in Benaras include meeting and dealing with a aspiring porn-film-maker, and rescuing an unwed, pregnant girl, Parwana - all this while being under the tutelage of a local wrestler giving regular sermons on the importance of celibacy for conserving strength. His journey continues to Delhi, Simla and perhaps back to Delhi (has been long since I read this beautiful work of fiction) - spanning the most crucial years of political wrangling regarding cartographic surgery of India and on ground violence devouring the peace of entire communities to forever leave them embittered. All this, being seen through the surreal lens of a photographer, who is an anachronistic observer in the setting.

This novel makes use of the technique of magic realism in a rather sudden way, at the very beginning. Its is not a very simple narrative, for it is a fusion of genres of fantasy and historical fiction. The novel is rich with rhetorical ploys where the author, in essence a historian, is conveying his hardened perspective on India's historical development to his audience, perhaps focussing on giving voice to the one community whose collective opinions had been drowned under the persuasive influence of its leader toeing a rigid separatist line. These tendencies of the author are distinctly noticeable in the way he creates his rather strong characters, ordinary citizens, supporting ideas which are in contravention of what was historically ascribed to them.

Mukul Kesavan

This novel doesn't stop at being a fantastical lesson on history. Besides telling you plainly that independence as partition were affairs larger than the exchange between Congress and the Muslim League, it also encompasses other interesting sub-plots, one of which is crude kind of sexual comedy. This is made visible in the section about Gyanendra, a film-maker aspiring to remake Kama Sutra, victimizing a woman, who can also be looked at as a victimizer in a way. One can, of course, not forget the fact that sexual violence was inextricably linked to the physical violence in the years leading up to Partition. By evoking lesser known streams of ideological thoughts on the idea of India and its various communities, the novel also makes a sincere attempt at political rewriting of historical facts. For throwing light on all this, the narrator has made use of flashback as well as flashforward. He has both, the retrospective and the prospective tools of analysis in his hands, because he picks up a nameless protagonist who has fallen into the lanes of history from a very contemporary reality. This narrator is in a position to see people struggle, but by the virtue of his temporal vantage point, sees how futile these struggles are because he knows precisely what turn history will take.

Lastly, the novel is so dearly loved by me because of the lightness of tone with which the author is able to convey the seriousness of matter. It is a thoroughly entertaining and enjoyable novel, which does not leave you sombre or depressed. And this is not to say that it is not hard hitting, or that it does not send its message home. 4.5 stars from me, and absolutely, highly recommended!

Book Details -
Author - Mukul Kesavan
Publisher - Penguin India and Ravi Dayal Publishers
Published - 1995
Book Source - Part of a course on 'Literatures of the Indian Sub-continent', Department of English, JMI
Genre - Historical Fiction/Fantasy Fiction
Price - Rs. 325
Pages - 378

What Young India Wants by Chetan Bhagat - A Review

"What Young India Wants? Its money back!"

So went a joke on twitter, sent my way by good friend and active tweeter, @tarique_anwer. Essentially, the young India, which had been eagerly waiting for Chetan Bhagat's first non-fiction publication was so disappointed in this flimsy attempt that, instead of these trivial essays, they wanted the ₹140 they spent on this book back. Which young India was awaiting the release of this book, you ask? Well, the one to which I belong was. Rather enthusiastically. There may be several reasons for that - the basic being, I loved Chetan Bhagat from his first through to his last novel. What I definitely did not take into account was the fact that I had never been exposed to his kind of political or social writing, which, defined at best, is average.

There are many things wrong and disappointing about this book. However, since I am a firm believer in silver linings, let me tell you what I loved about it. I loved the thought behind his words. Not the words, just the thoughts and the apparent drive which made him, rather bravely, attempt essays on fields as diverse as social networking, politics, education, gender issues, market economics, psychology and much else. All this vast expanse of topics was, unfortunately, ruthlessly compressed to fit a rather small space. However, before delving into negatives with full force, I would like to point out another thing which I found good - in fact, the only place where I felt any connect with the book. It was the short autobiographical essay which Bhagat has written about himself, recounting his struggles and achievements unabashedly and with minimum pretension. I have a proclivity towards such people, so much so, that Bhagat was almost successful in establishing his credibility as a social-economic-political commentator.

Naive fallacy of a hapless fan. The back-cover extols the book as a collection of Bhagat's 'widely read' columns across newspapers. I don't doubt that his article contributions to leading national dailies had a stable audience, but that is not because he is an expert or an insightful man. That is because he is popular and easy to read. He writes like I might. He connects with the youth (like he claims) because of his passionate discourses, which are rich on emotions, but devoid of substance. I am not being too harsh on the author - because I know I genuinely admire him for the kind of readership revolution he has brought out in urban India. I also relate and associate with the passion he holds for the country that is India - infectious and easily understood. However, when you delve into the finer (or even shallower) points he makes, you will realise he is not saying anything which is innovative, or which may work as an epiphany. Now, writers, especially columnists should mandatorily be of a stature where they stir the brains of readers. What I mean is, that writing should be capable of producing a change.

Nothing changed in me after I read this very gloriously titled book. Except for the fact that I will be wary of Bhagat's books in future. His effort at covering those many topics is commendable, but that is exactly what also works against him. When he takes up issues of such importance, and then wraps them up even before they can grow on you, it seems a nonsensical endeavour. Too little of too much packed together - thats what this book is.

Replete with personal anecdotes, Bhagat does strive to establish a cord, but fails in the larger picture. Another element which is totally frivolous and which harms the credibility of the author to the maximum are the two pieces of short fiction printed after the mini-essays. The stories, if I am too generous, I would say, are okay. The first one still better, but the second one aimlessly searching for reasons to be included in the book. Fiction is Bhagat's domain, and I know for a writer of his calibre, it would not be difficult to create a fictional narrative on an issue of social relevance. In fact, he takes up social issues routinely in his novels. In this book, however, he again disappoints in the area which is known to be his stronghold.

Summary - 2 star on five. There are much better books in the market which deal in a more in-depth and specialised and even interesting manner with the issues Bhagat picks up here. Hunt for those and skip this one.

Book Details -
Author - Chetan Bhagat
Publisher - Rupa
Published - 2012
Book Source - Review Copy
Genre - Non-fiction/Current Affairs/Essays 
Price - Rs. 140
Pages -  181

The Virgins by Siddharth Tripathi - A Review

Out in the market, there are many coming of age stories which are waiting to entertain and excite you; which are eager to lay in front of you fables of shedding naiveties and acquiring of a wise character. Most of them will serve you the regular fair - a carefree life, a deep, unassailable crisis, and then, what the Greeks will call, peripeteia and anagnorisis. For novels catering to young-adults, this is the staple diet. But then, you will come across that one novel, which will take you traipsing through the adventures of young boys, and make you feast on those events and incidents which turn those just-out-of-adolescence-kids into men-of-substance, and entertain you beyond your expectations. By the very cover of this book - The Virgins - I knew I was in for a treat. So glad am I for the fact that author Siddharth Tripathi made my gut feeling come true, in a manner of writing so colourful and crude, that it engages without effort and entertains till the very last page. 

To give a synopsis of the story of The Virgins is not easy, because this book does not bank on a storyline. Rather, it banks on a very strong plot, which extends into episodic narrative. It is these episodes (or adventures) which build the grand story. Very roughly put, The Virgins is the story of three boys - Pinku, Bhandu and Guggi - all born and nurtured in the sacred soil of Benaras. All three have interesting backgrounds to them, which they are consistently negotiating with, so as to find their own foothold in life. One is a school drop-out, innocent at first, sly later kind-of-guy, who is smitten with a plump girl responsible for his first trip to prison. Another is the product of a wrecked marriage, perhaps seeking solace in a 'firang' woman who is scarce aware of his presence. A third is the eternal troublemaker - whose only purpose of living is to invent impossible adventures, and then drag his friends into it. These three diverse characters - and a host of others are united in this unique book, which thrives on irreverence and an eclectic mix of characters. 

For me, the biggest strength of this book are, indeed, its characters. They are all known by nick-names, a mandatory tradition of Indian households; and they come in typical hues in lands of UP and Bihar. While most monikers are just the instinct of a doting parent, many others arise out of an urgent need to put a shameful label on a peer to highlight to the world his most embarrassing detail - the gift of friends who see you through years of puberty. The characters in this book are amusing, and teeming with life - they are created so deftly that they might even become unforgettable for you. The book comprises of several parallel narratives, and different characters peak at different points in the book. The best deal - no loose ends. All individual strands of the story are complete. You might want to keep this book away from kids, because of a very liberal sprinkling of expletives, though I have to admit, I did not find the cuss-words getting very creative, which is quite the norm in youth-novels these days. 

What was extremely creative was the opening of each chapter - with a quote or a verse, which was a strand of the story itself. The amusement begins at these tiny epigraphs, and continues till the last word of the chapter. Many of these epigraphs are clever, many are outright preposterous, but each has been placed with care, and blends seamlessly, but importantly with the storyline. The language is witty - sometimes simply funny, and you may catch yourself guffaw at places (I did!)

All in all, entertainment, expletives, adventures, and masala - you will find it all here - and what more do you need from a book which promises to give you a welcome break from the routine of life. Traverse the terrain of Benaras with an author who has seen the landscape from really close quarters. See Benaras beyond the sacred halo which centuries of fables have ascribed to it. Experience how the Ganga is not just a holy river, but a meaningful part of the lives of the locals. This, and much more - The Virgins is a complete package! A 3 on 5 star book for me!

Book Details -
Author - Siddharth Tripathi
Publisher - Fingerprint
Published - 2013
Book Source - Review Copy
Genre - Fiction
Price - Rs. 250
Pages -  320

The Assassin's Song by M. G. Vassanji

Where should the bird fly after the last sky – Mahmoud Darwish

M. G. Vassanji is a known name in the genre of postcolonial writings who has dealt with demanding affiliations that manifest themselves at emotional, cultural, ethnic, linguistic, or political levels. In The Assassin’s Song, he places his protagonist in the context of harrowing identity investigation and a constant flux of experiences and values. As a Canadian writer with roots in what the West chooses to call the Third World, one notices in Vassanji’s works a striking preoccupation with shifting boundaries, his protagonist caught in the in-between world, and confused at the very premise of what to assert his belongingness to. In this quest, his narratives plunge into an investigation of the past, because it is from those nether lands of time that one snatches elements to complete the mosaic of his identity.

One way to look at The Assassin’s Song is as a bildungsroman narrative. It is essentially the story of Karsan Dargawalla, so is the son to the guardian of a Sufi shrine in Gujarat, called Pirbag, and is also its heir apparent. He is poised to take over his father’s role as ‘Saheb’ or ‘Lord’ of the shrine. The story traces Karsan’s struggle to come to terms with this pre-ordained fate of his. Like any other child, he has his interest zones – cricket being mentioned as one. However, the words of Providence come sealed in iron for him, and he is forced into reconciliation with his future as the Saheb, also in the face of a difficult relationship with his distant father. Karsan breaks free from his restricted, stifled existence at Pirbag when he receives an offer to study at Harvard.

Karsan finds himself enjoying the new life in a new land, where he is given a greater chance to discover himself, his interests. It is also in this new life that he develops a different and closer relationship with his father through numerous epistolary exchanges. He discusses Keats with his father, who sends caveats enclosed in envelopes for him. In a sense, it makes one feel, as if the son is trying to expose to his father the vast expanse of unexplored land around, and the father is trying to rein the child within the secular, secure and sacred confines of the domestic space.

Karsan emerges in the novel as the figure of a wanderer – much like Nur Fazal, his divine ancestor was. Also in the wandering spirit, one can see the autobiographical imprints of Vassanji, who has also located and relocated, from Kenya, finally living in Toronto. In the image of Karsan, thus, one can see the personal conflicts faced by most native as well as diasporic members of postcolonial societies. Thus, woven into the fabric of Karsan’s personal struggles for identity are universal echoes emerging from postcolonial sites.

Among other things, The Assassin’s Song is about the danger of taking a neutral position in a world that demands certainties. The faith followed by Karsan’s family, the keepers of the Pir’s flame, is neither Hindu nor Muslim, but this doesn’t count for much in the heat of communal riots, when convenient labels have to be put on everything. The Assassin’s Song, in more ways than one, comes out as a novel which is fiercely secular, but not secular in isolation. What the novel does beautifully is to problematize the neutrality of someone who does not align himself to any one religion. The narrative puts to test the idealism ensconced in the notion of secularism by holding it as a source of conflict in the mind of Karsan when it comes to surviving in a world so vehemently bent upon demarcating itself into cocoons of narrow sectarian identities. Vassanji, an Ismaili Muslim, here draws on his own experience of belonging to a small religious community.

This bildungsroman story culminates in Karsan’s return. He comes back to that very place, and perhaps that very fate which he had desired so much to evade. In a sense, the novel reveals that all freedom is illusory. Even while travelling beyond his native realms, he was, somewhere deep down, the heir of Pirbag, the one entrusted to carry forward the secular legacy of Nur Fazal. After the devastation wrecked by clash of faiths, Karsan returns to his domain – the place which was his – and it is with ease peppered with slight anxiety that he takes on the role of the next Sahab of the shrine.

In this end, Vassanji doesn't tell us what to believe; he merely shows us the various stages of a person's exploration of self. At the conclusion, though the prodigal son returns, there is no sense of finality that a reader may get after journeying through various geographical and psychological terrains with Karsan. It can perhaps be said that exploration of self is a continuous process. Identity evolves with experiences. It is not to be found at the place of one’s beginnings, but can often be located in a faraway land, where distances come to signify affiliations in a stronger manner. Often, identity demands acceptance. Karsan’s moment of greatest disillusionment came, perhaps, when he discovered that the eternal lamp illuminating Nur Fazal’s dargah was not a manifestation of miracles, but a fraud of sorts in which his mother was complicit. But later, Karsan understands the necessity of miracles to sustain faith. To conclude, a quote from the first chapter would be apt, where words and sentences combine to give a sense of what form would Karsan’s quest for identity acquire as the novel proceeds.

“That is the important question I had to learn. What lies beyond the sky? What do you see when you remove this dark speckled blanket covering our heads? Nothing? But what is nothing?”

The author

Verdict? Very strongly recommended. Never did this before, but this novel takes 5 on 5 stars. 

(The above article is an exerpt from a paper I wrote in college, as a part of my course on Postcolonial Literature)

Revenge of the Naked Princes by Oswald Pereira - A Review

Just when you thought its over, the best deal, it is not! It leaves you craving for more, by giving you thrill, adventure, blood-curdling details and by closing at a point you least expected. These were my first thoughts as soon as I shut the book, and raced into my blogger account to type out this review.

Author and veteran journalist Oswald Pereira had already entered my list of favorites with his debut novel - The Newsroom Mafia, published in late 2011, which I had the amazing fortune of reading and reviewing. I was bowled over by the author's prowess at story-telling and engaging his audience. What Mr. Pereira has done with his second book - The Revenge of the Naked Princess - is that he has concretized and validated his position on my list of authors to reckon with, or to look forward to. Why am I more impressed this time is because while the earlier novel's premise drew from his field of expertise - journalism - this book's plot is one which focusses on his creative imagination and dedicated research to churn up story which is haunting, and extremely engaging.

Revenge of the Naked Princess is a period thriller, set in the 16th century, around the time when Christian missionaries had begun coming to India to pursue their goal of adding numbers to Christ's kingdom. Drawing from this premise, the novel sketches the story of the tribe of Yehoorwada, which was subjected to the brutal madness of conversions by a Portuguese mission led by Brigadier Braganca and his ecclesiastical partner, Father Francisco. Together, in the name of Christ, they unleashed on the locals a reign of indescribable cruelties, combining acts of physical, psychological and sexual violence to make them toe the holy line. The tribals of Yehoorwada were fighters, led by their able and fiery princess, Darshana Kamya Kathodi, a skilled archer, who is subjected to the worst kind of humiliation at hand hands of Braganca and his men - she is stripped and raped till she dies, and her wounded spirit ascends to heaven only to return one day in her macabre form to wreck revenge on all those who brutalized her community, her body, and her soul. What unfolds then is a tale of fury, of corruption, of hypocrisy, of exploitation and of fantastic adventures which make this book an absolute page-turner.

The book begins with action - hooking on a reader from the word go. Then falls the great onus on a writer of sustaining his audience's interest as the story progresses. This is an area in which Oswald Pereira does not disappoint, because with every new chapter you start, the story just keeps getting better. The tale makes you writhe in anger at the kind of atrocities which in the name of religion are perpetrated on indigenous tribes, not sparing even women and children. While most of the novel is full of gory details of conversion rituals, and the exploitative culture which is established by the so-called devout Christians, the book also does have its amusing moments, captured in the realm of fantasy, to which the novel travels during the latter half. That is the beauty of this work - it is where facts and history meet imagination and fantasy.

Mr. Pereira is excellent, yet again, at creating characters which persist in your imagination. Whether it is the two-faced Father Francisco, the ruthless Brigadier Braganca, of the traitor-convert Joseph Lawrence Pereira, all glow in their distinct characterization. And how can one ever forget the picture of naked protagonist, dark but radiant, coming back to seek her revenge, whose eyes are full of both, innocence and fury. By focussing on her nakedness, the author, I believe, has done his bit to make naked the ugliness which persists below the shiny veneers of religiosity. That religion is not something to be imposed from above or to be practised in rituals is a theme repeated in the novel time and again. It is something to be cherished and observed at the deepest level, for God resides not in external relics but in the observer's heart.

This book is a 3.5 star book for me. It has all the makings of a perfect read. Easy language. Short chapters. Lucid narration. Thrill inducing episodes. Extremely engaging plot. Freshness of concept. And so much more to discover when you actually pick it up from the stands. Strongly recommended!

Ice Candy Man by Bapsi Sidhwa - A Review

 "I feel so sorry for myself—and for Cousin—and for all the senile, lame and hurt people and fallen women—and the condition of the world—in which countries can be broken, people slaughtered and cities burned—that I burst into tears."

There are important strains of narrative which often history forgets to recollect. There are voices of countless millions which are muffled in discourses which tell us of our past. Thankfully, for the readers today, where the historian fails, the literary writer emerges and succeeds. It is a writer who dares to construct a parallel track of history which talks not of politics, or war, or heroes, or leaders, but of the silent sufferings of the oppressed masses who are most affected by events which can be considered watershed moments in history. 

One such watershed moment in the history of not just India as we know it today, but the entire sub-continent is the Partition. Scholars have remarked that partition is one of those events which has not died, which continues to live on in the hearts and minds of people - which is an inseparable part of the story of the birth of our modern nation. However, partition was not just about Jinnah, Gandhi, Nehru or Mountbatten. It was not an event which can be surmised in statistics of death and destruction. The partition had many stories behind it, one of which Bapsi Sidhwa, is her acclaimed novel - Ice Candy Man - has tried to unearth. 

Ice-Candy Man is a novel which shows you the pre-partition and post-partition world through the curious, innocent and observant eyes of Lenny - a 10 year old daughter of a Parsi household. Ridden with a deformity in her leg, Lenny is under continuous care of her Ayah - Shanta - who is perhaps the most influential person in her life. Ice Candy Man is essentially Ayah's story. It is the story of her world - the one of domestics - and of her  many harmless affairs with men belonging to her social strata. Of the many who admired her and had particularly obsessive-possessive tendencies towards her was the titular character - the ice candy man. Ayah, after flirting with ice candy man, finds comfort in the warm and affectionate presence of another of her admirers - the masseur. Our titular character does not take Ayah's transgressions lightly, and wrecks revenge on her in the worst possible way. 

Besides the story of these individual characters, the story of a nation is taking shape in the background. India is on the verge of partition, and Bapsi Sidhwa, in her novel, has unravelled the impact the impending partition was going to have on the Parsi community in Lahore - a community which can be called the minority of the minorities. This community has a history of mixing within the cultural landscape of place like sugar in milk - but with an event as large as the partition looming large in front of their eyes, they could not remain totally detached from the fanaticism of communal politics being played out in front of them. One of the most powerful characters of the book, in fact, is a Parsi matriarch, called Rodabai - Lenny's Godmother - who represents a very firm and progressive facet of Parsi women in the pre and post-partition society. Ayah, being a Hindu residing in Lahore was one on whose body the frenzied destructive dance of partition had been performed - whatever little salvation could come her way came from Rodabai.

Bapsi Sidhwa, herself being a Parsi, has written a novel which is so credible in its delineation of characters and events, that it is not difficult to believe that a Lenny, or Rodabai, or Ayah might have existed in Lahore in 1947, to see their land being ravaged by the forces of communal hatred. This novel had earlier been published under the title 'Cracking India' - to signify the cracks which had occured not just on India as a geographical entity, but to emphasize on the fragmentation which had occured in psyches, cultures and among people. There are strong autobiographical tones in the novel, for Sidhwa also had a limp in her leg - identifiable with the narrator of the novel. The narrative dwells on not one, but many issues - political, communal and sexual. She does a wonderful job particularly of reflecting on the female condition. Even better is Sidhwa's prowess at characterization. The character of Ice Candy Man had been one of the most interesting and complex characters I have come across in fiction - and his psychology has been the toughest to decode. 

This novel was also adapted into a film by Deepa Mehta, called 1947 Earth. A great cinematic experience, the film however does not do justice to the novel's narrative, because it foregrounds the love story between Ayah, Ice Candy Man and masseur, leaving out the portrayal of many important issues Sidhwa dwells upon in the book. 

The language of the book is comprehensible - the only problem a reader might face while reading is in terms of the continuity of narrative. The book follows a simple linear narrative technique, but takes a lot of leaps between scenes which make it difficult to keep pace. However, it is a novel to make you cry, to make you think, and to stay with you till long after as a blatant, but sensible reminder of all that was not considered important enough to be reported by historians. A 3.5 star book for me, but strongly recommended. I would have tagged this at 4 stars, but I read a few partition books in quick succession, and a few turned out to be a tad more amazing than this one. 

I would also like to recommend two more works by Bapsi Sidhwa - Water and The Pakistani Bride - both of which take up serious social issue and present them to you in a manner which makes you sad, angry and finally leaves you in a contemplative zone. 

Chanakya's New Manifesto by Pavan K. Varma

This is not a book review. This is a book experience.

There are perks to being a student of the English Department at Jamia Millia Islamia. There are days you can come to college and realize that the department has organized a free book pick-up for you. (Yay!) Then there are other days when you are gifted the privilege of meeting some of the most prominent authors, who are responsible for making the literary scene of India rich and happening. In these co-curricular activities, their is a joy of stepping out of books to receive knowledge from wisdom and experience of those who are veterans in their fields. I happened to feel similar joy last week, when Aleph and Department of English, JMI, jointly came together to introduce author-diplomat Pavan K. Varma to students and avid book readers, and, more specifically, to those young-hearts, who feel they have a stake in our country's future.

Mr. Pavan K. Varma has authored 19 books so far, and even a cursory glance at the list of books he has written throws light of the versatility of his literary forays. From economics, to politics, to translation and fiction, Mr. Varma has experimented with it all, and his books have consistently tasted success. Chanakya's New Manifesto is the first of his books which I have read, thanks to an advance reading copy sent my way by Aleph, and after being thoroughly impressed and enriched by the contents of this book, I can safely say that I understand why Mr. Varma has churned out such consistently successful books.

Chanakya's New Manifesto is a document which analyses in very crisp terms the challenges which the Indian polity faces. This book, then, spends a greater time in illustrating some very pragmatic suggestions which can be a possible answer to the problems which our country finds itself grappling with. The book is critical of policies and people who have stood in the way of our progress and potential as a nation. It draws solutions/suggestions for contemporary crises from examples of other nations, from our own reports of various commissions and committees, and in each page, it displays the thorough research which the author has undertaken to come out with this kind of a comprehensive manifesto.

To streamline his suggestions better, the author has divided the many challenges which India faces into five distinct categories - Governance, Democracy, Corruption, Security, and creation of an Inclusive Society. After taking a few pages to outline the grey areas of policy and the repeated failures of lawmakers and implementers in these 5 areas, Mr. Varma elaborates in greater detail the kind of steps which need to be taken to combat and overcome our shortcomings. This is what I find great about this book - its passionate solution orientedness. This passion I understood in greater depth when Mr. Varma visited our campus, and in a single line, caught our attention 'Evolution of nations badi pecheeda cheez hai' - he stated in no uncertain terms, that despite being a civilization which is about 5000 years old, we have challenges which cannot be buried under the glory of history. Since it is our collective future at stake, we cannot afford to not be interested in the functioning of our nation. According to him, as has also been stated in his book, in India, the imperatives of governance and democracy are antithetical to each other, and our challenge is to tweak the system in such a way that governance and democracy become complimentary to each other.

With Mr. Pavan K. Varma

In the year 1947, our republic had the luxury of time. Now, 65 years later, with rampant corruption, mass poverty, social indices worse than Sub-Saharan Africa and two hostile neighbours, that luxury is lost to us. Taking inspiration from classical India's greatest thinker - Chanakya - this book attempts to devise result oriented political, administrative and social strategy - a must read for those who take interest in India and its dynamics. For students planning to get into administration, this book simply cannot be missed. I am already preparing to read it a second time, and if I were to rate it, 4.5 stars on 5 would be my succinct review of this manifesto. How I wish some political party came out someday with such foresight, passion and will for the unambiguous, non-negotiable betterment of India.

Book Details -
Author - Pavan K. Varma
Source - Review Copy
Publisher - Aleph
Published - 2013
Genre - Non-Fiction
Price - ₹ 295
Pages - 248

"I Am Ashamed To Be An Indian Today"

It is the first emotional response, but this is what it needs to be. What kind of madness has been put on display outside the Rashtrapati Bhawan in Delhi? The Delhi police is acting like hired goons of the party in power. Tear gas shells and water canons are being unleashed on thousands of young protesters. And what is it that they are demanding? Not money, not jobs, not the sun and moon, but something as basic as protection.

This issue has flared beyond just a sexual assault case. Its an eye opener for the kind of polity we live in. Did someone just call our state a 'mecca' of democracy? I am sorry, our democracy, if anything, is hitting the nadir. Those brutal rapists used rods, and our honorable police force uses lathis - is there any visible difference to boast of?  And yes, the government issues statements asking protesters to maintain peace - those very protesters whose are hurt, both physically and mentally, at the kind of insanity and idiocy the state is treating them with.

Why would Pranab babu not come out? Is he afraid of being lynched or raped? It was never about a rape in the first place. It was about the way we allow the authority figures to trample on the perceived secondary groups in the society. The male dominates and feeds off the female, whom he perceives is nothing but a secondary accessory to him, who is here to satiate his needs. The state walks all over its subjects, thinks of the public as mere roadways to power, whose importance is understood only every five years. For rest of the time, they may rot, cry, suffer - unless their plight can become a political agenda, nothing about them matters.

Mrs. Dixit cried two nights ago on tv. But how could she cry alone? So now, she and her friends in the elite circles of Delhi ensure that the whole city cries with them. Tear gas shells. How does this idea even enter the heads of the police force? Are anyone of the political bandhs treated this way? Will tomorrow parliamentarians who protest and upset the function of the prime organ of democracy be treated the same way? Does the police even know why it exists? To protect PEOPLE. Yes. People. Here, however, a new tamasha, a new definition of the police is being invented. This is a force which protects just the state, the authority figures, the political class against the most vicious threat that they could ever face in life - public out rage. Our police is not longer a civil force. It is a state force. And these are the ones from whom we expect promises of safety. We sure must be a mad lot.

There were no politicians, even from the opposition, who took an immediate stand on the theatre of lunacy being played out on the Rajpath. Now, that is understandable, isn't it? The sons and daughters of India need to be protected, but that can happen only after press statements are cut to perfection, political agendas perfected, game plans initiated and party high command consulted. I heard such authoritarian tactics were employed in the North east and Kashmir region of our country. As a resident of the National Capital Territory of India, who thought her city is capable of being called the best in the world, my heart goes out to all those people who dare to stand up for what is right. Solidarity is the least minimum we can show, and that we will. Tweets are coming in from people associated with the protest, urging people to get out and join them and not let the movement fizzle out. I reiterate, it is not about a single girl falling prey to sexual inclinations of few perverted animals. It is about an entire generation falling prey to delusions of power.

The rape infants. They rape our elders. Now they rape democracy.

Hah. They are protecting themselves against the people who put them there. Theek hai. Galti toh hamaari hi hai.

Quote Quintet - October

October was a hectic month. Very very hectic month. Pleasantly hectic month. Hence this post comes a little late. However, recollecting quotes is an activity I enjoy. So, I will continue with the recently begun tradition of posting here 5 of the most impactful lines I came across in the preceding month. Last month was marked with many activities and experiences. I gained professional success, and met with some personal losses too. I saw smiles shining right into my face; I saw tears falling out of tired eyes. I celebrated festivals. I mourned losses. And in the middle of all that, I managed to find some time to note down lines which I would like to remember.

Nothing extraordinary. Simple lines. Important thoughts. Here they are.

On Living

"No human being is illegal."
- Elie Wiesel
(Holocaust survivor and Nobel Prize winner.)
I read this line and I stared at it. I stared at it for minutes, and found its essence to be so profound that this line refused to leave my mind. Live and let live. How difficult is it to understand? How easily individuals, agencies, authorities fall in the pit of trying to determine the kind of existence others should/should not have. Or if they should exist at all. And who better to articulate this thought that a holocaust survivor. I look at my friends from the North-East, and I look at this line. I remember the violence perpetrated in Assam, and I remember notions of peaceful, cohesive existence. Sometimes, its all just hogwash.

On Information Explosion

"It is said that from the dawn of civilization, till 2003, humanity accumulated about 5 exabytes of data; today that much is added in two days."
Sachin Pilot
(Minister of State, Independent Charge, Corporate Affairs)
Whoa. Magnitude. Explosion of data. How much can a human mind cope with, after all. In the face of it all, I have a set of friends too, who just want to feed on knowledge and never stop. Slow down people. There is no way yo make friends with knowledge which has acquired these gigantic proportions.
(Exabytes - A billion billion bytes, just so the mammoth proportions are clear.

On (Alternate) Politics
"Politics is the centrestage of the present system, the stage where system is made or unmade..someone has to accept the challenge of stepping on this stage."
Vision Document of India Against Corruption
(Released by IAC on October 2, 2012, when they launched themselves as a political outfit)
Kejriwal is attempting big. Do his endeavours hold promise? I would be an eager spectator, but a useless speculator. Should wait this one out.

On The Pickwick Fest '12

"What a wonderful festival - superb organization! Thanks for inviting me; I enjoyed all of it."
Nilanjana Roy
(Author of The Wildings. Special Guest and Judge during TPF)
This line came in a form of a text message which celebrated the efforts of each member of the Pickwick Family and boosted their confidence. By God's grace, today, the Pickwick family is close-knit unit, which just refuses to separate. May the good times stay. Always.



On Art
"Good art should not be constrained by boundaries."
Saumya Kulshreshtha
(You know her, don't you?)
It was a happy and proud moment when a quote by me made its way to a news article on The Pickwick Fest in Hindustan Times dates 13th October, 2012. Our festival was touted as one of the most looked forward to events in Delhi during mid-October. That's how we do Jamia proud! And in the above quote, I tried to explain the rational behind bringing to great authors, from different linguistic and geographical backgrounds together in our festival - Charles Dickens and Saadat Hassan Manto. Find below an image of the article.

That'll be all for October. Last two quotes are absolutely narcissistic in essence, but, okay, I do not really mind allowing the spirit of Narcissus entering my mind once in a while.

Happy November and Festive Season to All!

Let's Quote India

"A moment comes... when we step out from the old to the new... , and when the soul of a nation finds utterance..."
- Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru
on Independence
( I noted this down on his 47th death anniversary)

Happy Independence Day

Yesterday, while travelling back in the metro with a bunch of friends, I met a French tourist, by the name of Etienne. He has been vacationing in India, alone, and is headed back tomorrow. Etienne has seen, in these two months, every place of significance in India, from Kolkata to Varanasi to Leh-Ladakh. Ladakh, according to him , is the best of all the place he has visited, and he made a strong case as to why we should also visit it. It was ironical and pleasant to see a foreigner advise us on the places in our homeland we must see. An anecdotal meeting.

I, on my part, duped him. The inquiring tourist wanted to know how we celebrated our Independence Day. I related the entire Republic Day proceedings to him, mixed with a little bit of August 15th celebrations, and felt horribly stupid later. My friends mocked at once we exited the metro; I mocked at myself till hours later.

Every such event is promptly recorded in my diary, and as I sat down to write, still feeling goofy over the metro meeting, my eyes fell down over a few quotes about our great land, and its various facets, which I have noted down over past some months. Spoken by eminent persons, these are simple lines, carrying meaning which sure is greater than the words. I think today is the perfect day I share these with you all. Quoted directly from source, no duping now!

On Economy

"Twenty years ago when I had a thick mop of hair, I used to pay ₹ 25 for a haircut. Ten years ago, after my hair started thinning, I was paying ₹ 50 for a haircut. And now, when I have virtually no hair left, I am paying ₹ 150 for a haircut. I struggle to determine how much of that is inflation and how much is the premium I pay the barber for the privilege of cutting the governor's non existent hair."
- Duvvuri Subbarao
(RBI Governor)
Decades after reforms, the common man still leads a troubled life. Growth and inclusion are two vastly different terms; so have our policy makers proved.

On Politics

"If you really care for freedom, liberty, there cannot be any democracy or liberal institution without politics. The only true antidote to the perversions of politics is more politics and better politics. Not negation of politics."
-Jayaprakash Narayan
(From a lecture at Mumbai University)
He is what many modern day crusaders attempt to be. Leading one of the most powerful agitations against the system, JP, in these lines tells us how faith is important for bringing about reforms.




On Politicization

"The man whose stint as a Finance Minister saw the economy shrink from 9.5% to 5% is rewarded with Presidency; the man whose son is being investigated by the ED is rewarded with finance ministry; and the man who oversaw India's worst power breakdown is rewarded with home..."
- An SMS on Cabinet Reshuffle of August '12
We saw it all together, didn't we?

On Identity

"Don't try to look special with fancy clothes. There will be richer people with better wardrobes. In stead, wear Khadi and you will stand out."
- Dr. Zakir Hussain
(As an advice to his daughter)
I read this in HT Brunch, and its symbolic relevance to the contemporary world is striking. Why do we continuously undergo pressures to ape that which the west has induced in our culture, or that which a large part of our circle finds 'cool'? These are pressures me and you deal with everyday. Don't fit in. Stand out.

On Legislature

"It is almost as if we believe passing a law is tantamount to solving the problem it is meant to tackle."
- Our Take, Hindustan Times
Guess what this comment alludes towards.

On Change

"The only change the public wants to see is iman restored and active in our politicians, just as it wants to see ilm in a teacher, hunar in a doctor and kashish in a poet."
- Gopalkrishna Gandhi
One of my favorite columnists, he always says something very meaningful and provoking, always in a very smooth and subtle tone.



On Gender

"Better 500 now than 50000 later"
An advertisement for sex determination test. A whole psyche is captured in this one line. A major chunk of Indian still find it better to spend a little on determining the sex of the foetus now, than spend many times over as dowry later.
Interestingly, according to some survey conducted in June 2011, the most dangerous countries for women are -
1. Afghanistan
2. Democratic Republic of Congo
3. Pakistan
4. India
5. Somalia

On Herself

"I cannot afford to take a break from work for full recovery. I need the money and others would displace me. If I had someone to love me and take care of me, I would not be in this trade."
- Salma
She is a sex worker, who, according to a story published in The Hindu Sunday Magazine, earns her livelihood on the porous India-Bangladesh border. Here, she related her helplessness after having suffered injuries in her mouth and internal organs, courtesy a ruthless client.

On Fanaticism

"Zahid sharaab peene de masjid mein baith kar, ya aisi jagah bata de jahaan khuda na ho"
- Mirza Ghalib (Daag)
Fighting in the name of God is a sacrilege routinely committed in our pious land. If a man desecrates another's faith, can he ever call himself a believer?

On Nation Building

"If a country is to be corruption free and become a nation of beautiful minds, I strongly feel there are three key societal members who can make a difference. They are the father, the mother and the teacher."
- APJ Abdul Kalam
He has always worked on showing us the positive, but practical picture. At least two of the three roles quoted above I plan to adopt. My salute to these guardians of our young minds.

For all of us

"If I do not stand by my conscience, then who will?"
I do not know who said this, but he said it well, didn't he?

I have gotten my facts about the Independence Day right, thanks to a rebuke by my friend Neha. But it doesn't end here, it never can. Dream for yourself, dream for your country. As a basic request, if you cannot participate in her prosperity, please do not participate in activities which add blemish to her name.

Jai Hind

Fly high!

Entertainment, Entertainment Aur Entertainment

IPL FIXTURES
A Guest Post by Agransh Anand
Agransh is a cricket enthusiast, the kind who feels disillusioned by the game owing to the entertainment based extravaganza it has been made in this IPL season. You can feel this post has been written straight from the heart, and why not? A cricket fan in India is nothing if not passionate. While I was regaling myself with thumping DD wins, another fan was mulling over some obvious trickery. Here on, Agransh takes over, to take us through an IPL journey.

I have witnessed over the years that Indian movies don't make it to Oscars, and even if they do, they are not good enough to win the coveted trophy. The surprising part however is that over the past 5 years, we Indians have witnessed some great 3 hour movies and that too not just one but in huge numbers, being released every day, for a period of two months . These not only contain some world class actors and some newcomers every season, they have got the makings of a perfect thriller, the glitz, drama, pretty faces in the form of cheerleaders, emotions running high on and off the field- consistently giving us 3 hours of uninterrupted entertainment. An increasing number of followers every season have made these movies more intense, more thrilling and have surpassed the expectations of the people when they give 'I did not expect this kind of ending' time and again. This movie, my friend, is predictably, the Indian Premier League or IPL for most of us. Produced, Written and Directed by BCCI.

I had been an ardent fan of the league since its very inception. Not only did the league threw at us names of some brilliant budding cricketers, it also changed the way cricket is played all over the world. The purists of the game have always put test cricket first over every other format but it only showed that they are sulking because of the glory these cricketers are basking in and somewhere would be feeling that they had missed the bus when it came down to the money factor. Every person is entitled to making as much money as he wants to. And by putting in those extra hours between their international assignments, they were earning all that they had ever dreamt of. It also meant that hundreds of other cricketers who would never see the light of the day in the Indian team,would not be deprived of a secured financial future. In a game which had less money for cricketers as late as 15 years, back this was a welcome change everyone had been yearning for. They were getting recognition and were awards for all the hard work they had put in over the years. They were in the limelight for the right reasons, had become households names, loyal fans were cheering for them and were being given a shot at their lifetime goal of representing their country. Ranji matches had become obsolete. No longer did the traditional old rivalry between states hold any importance in either selection of cricketers or viewership of the audience. And why would it? Here in ipl you had 19 year olds sharing dressing room with legends of the game, smacking best of the bowlers around the park and getting guided by world class coaches. For someone who does not go into the nitty gritties of cricket, from a distance, IPL seemed to be a happy picture. Why would someone spend 3 hours on a senseless bollywood movie (most of them are) when he can enjoy a fantastic spectacle of cricket daily? More so, it had become a status symbol for those who went to see the matches in the stadium. For the first time ever, the female population of the country was taking an active interest in the game, even if it was out of love for Shah Rukh Khan, Preity Zinta or Shilpa Shetty. The biggest industrialists of the country too were caught by the bug.  When Mukesh Ambani takes out time to watch the match in the stadium, you know it is something special. If you had passes to the match, you were amongst the lucky ones and if you had jugaad to the after party you were amongst the privileged ones. If your dad's firm was the sponsor of one of the team, you got immediate respect in the social circles. In totality, being associated in any form with the ipl meant big for those who were mere spectators to the drama called IPL. The league had been a success, well written, produced and directed.

However, only a few had imagined that while scripting this success story, the roles of the actors (read cricketers) were also fixed. When egos and politics get mixed with sports, the outcome becomes ugly. It hampers the very nature of sportsmanship. There are good rivalries as well as the bad ones. India-Pakistan, Ashes- these are the ones which are good for sports. When Dhoni has a spat with the vice captain of the team, it means trouble for the Indian cricket. But when Dhoni, Sehwag, Gambhir, Bhajji have their egos getting clashed against each other, it means more fun for an average cricket fan. Each of the great cricketers having a go at the other. Life would have been simpler had a healthy rivalry accompanied by some show of attitude plus display of exemplary cricketing skills minus the swearing  would have been the order of the occasion. These players had been great ambassadors of Indian cricket. Getting selected on merit has always been the key for them. All of them at different levels had shown admirable leadership qualities and had earned respect from the cricketing fraternities. The Tamasha cricket had given them another platform to display a side of theirs which one cannot see much during the international matches. And now comes the role of the director.

In movies, you can script a story according to the taste of the public. You can make the good guy triumph, show that the villain lost in the end, long lost brothers meeting again etc. In cricket however, your role ends the moment the players take the field. From thereon, its their game, their lives, their clashes. If ever anybody wanted to take lessons on event management, there is no big event in India than IPL. But just like a good event management company, they have no say in whatever happens on the stage. By putting their foot in the wrong area, IPL has not done itself any favor.

Over the years, IPL has had its share of controversies. Be it the fake blogger of the Kolkata team, the strategic timeouts which changed the course of the game within a few minutes, accusations of match fixing, parties and the latest one being spot fixing. But as  a hard core fan, I had always negated these even though I was irked by the game changing time outs at times. Yet all these factors could not hamper the very strong following of the game.

When the Chairman of the league announces at the opening ceremony that this will be the most entertaining IPL ever, you don't take those words literally. You feel that you have seen past 4 seasons and what different could the 5th one be? Half way down the tournament you realize that you were mistaken. Not only have you not seen more thrilling last over finishes, you have also seen the most number of last ball finishes. Javed Miandad's moment of glory was hitting a six of the final ball off Chetan Sharma way back in 1985 at Sharjah. At IPL, every Tom, Dick 'n' Harry was replicating that moment at will. It took me some time to realize that what does the 'Business End ' of the tournament means. It means that when TRP's will drop, you will have a sudden surge in close finishes, giving you more viewership and commercials. It means that weaker teams who started brilliantly in the tournament will fade out and never recover from their downfall (Pune). It means that if your team doesn't boast of big names, its not good enough to generate excitement amongst viewers, no matter how good the youngsters in your team are (Punjab). And it means that if the president of the BCCI is also the owner of a certain yellow jersey team, your team has every chance of qualifying through to the play-offs. It means that three matches which had to go in Chennai's way for them to make it to the next round, will go their way. It means that a team which has lost 11 of their 14 games, will suddenly strike form and knock out two probables (Rajasthan and Bangalore) from entering into the next round. Outside the IPL, it means that if you are a part of the yellow jersey team, you get an automatic entry into the Indian team, which in due course time will be called CSK extension. That no matter how bad a player you are, you will get full support of your skipper, Dhoni and will be retained time and again. That even if you are bits and pieces type cricketer, you will get auctioned for a whopping 2 million dollars when the best in the business get paid much less than you because there is skipper's backing. That IPL ego clashes will be taken to the International matches and players will be selected based on the franchise that they represent. If the Indian skipper doesnt like his Vice Captain, lads from Delhi will hold less chance compared to those who belong to Chennai and Bangalore. If anything, Ipl 5 should act as an eye opener for millions of fans around the country who get exhausted by the end of the match in a hope that their team might pull off a turn around when little do they know that the 'Business end' has already been looked after. Going to watch a match in the stadium is a day long affair for an average Indian, fighting through the traffic, trying to find a parking space and entering the stadium after battling it out at the entry gates. To play with the emotions of people is a sin. To drain people emotionally and give them a result which you wanted them to see is a crime. Its time that the BCCI understands that IPL is what it is because of the people who follow the game so passionately. Don't play with their feelings. We would be happy to see honest contests more than the tailor-made matches.

Agransh Anand
One of the many IPL fans in India. Till now, at least.