They stumble and falter, then prod and push,
amble and jostle, my words then gallop in a parade as I sit by
Tirelessly they march on - dreaming and dancing
O those delightful episodes! When all I can do with contentment is sigh
Poised for the deluge I sit waiting in my cozy nook
But today is not that day and the page is empty in my book
The vibrant emerald hues or the memories of the rain
The smell of a fresh summer lily
The flashes of joy or that long forgotten pain-
all old friends who take me through my page. Today they stare at me nonchalantly
Poised for the deluge I sit waiting in my cozy nook
But today is not that day and the page is empty in my book
This morning I read this beautiful poem by Tagore. In the poem he draws parallels between a mother's gifts to her child and God's beautiful creations. The mother's song is compared to the music in the leaves and the colorful toys to the many hued flowers. The poem is filled with amazing imagery describing nature's many gifts to us. It is truly lovely! Read on...
When I bring to you colored toys, my child,
I understand why there is such a play of colors on clouds, on water,
and why flowers are painted in tints
—when I give colored toys to you, my child.
When I sing to make you dance
I truly know why there is music in leaves,
and why waves send their chorus of voices to the heart of the listening earth
—when I sing to make you dance.
When I bring sweet things to your greedy hands
I know why there is honey in the cup of the flowers
and why fruits are secretly filled with sweet juice
—when I bring sweet things to your greedy hands.
When I kiss your face to make you smile, my darling,
I surely understand what pleasure streams from the sky in morning light,
and what delight that is that is which the summer breeze brings to my body
I started reading this one afternoon when I sat in the bookstore. I hadn't purchased a copy by that time. And much to my surprise I sat there and read about 100 pages. I did not budge an inch. So, one might ask- Is this a good book? Unfortunately I do not know how to answer that question. I did think it was very well written, however, was very surprised to learn that it won the Booker prize for 2006.
The Inheritance of Loss, Kiran Desai's second book, travels back and forth between Kalimpong, a tiny Himalayan hill town, and the streets of New York City, with a few scenes rolling in England.
The story revovles around a 16 year old orphaned girl Sai, who is sent to live with her grandfather a retired judge and former civil servant, who lives in a desolate bungalow on the hills in Kalimpong. The judge has a cook, whose son Biju is an illegal immigrant in New York, who tries to make a living by doing all kinds of odd jobs. The plot oscillates between the lives of Sai, the judge and his cook with the backdrop of the Gorkhaland agitation, and Biju's struggles to build a life for himself in the States. The book is full of other Kalimpong characters most of whom are uproots living in exile. All the characters in the book seem to be struggling for something-some yearn for love while some struggle for acceptance. There is a prominent potrayal of immigrant emotions in most of the characters as they try to discover who they are and where they belong to. Desai's narrative of exotic locations and eccentric characters is colorful and heart warming.
So, why was I surprised that this book won the Booker. At times I found the narrative incoherent, as it shifted between the characters in Kalimpong and the desperation portrayed by the character in New York. Some conversations were complex and the dialogue was copious at times. A times the sentences confused me. I am not sure if it is an accepted form of prose or experimentation, where the author used odd punctuation and expressions in the middle of some sentences. Am I suggesting that the book was badly written, definitely not. Please give it a try. You might love it or it could just pass for an average book. However, it did not fulfill my expectations of a Booker winner.
Everybody has read this book or is looking to read it. I finally did! I fell in love with the character, which is to say; the writer herself, since this is a true story and she wrote a memoir of a period in her very own life. She described a time in her life when she experiences a sort of mid-life crisis, (but she’s only 34,) post-divorce, and decides to spend 4 months each in Italy, India and Indonesia, chasing worldly pleasure, spiritual devotion, and a balance between the two. She chronicled her travels in an excellent manner and very quickly I found myself absorbed in them.
I found her narration extremely witty and entertaining at times. Often times I could not help myself from laughing out loud while I was reading, for instance, when she describes her train of thoughts as she tries to meditate in an Ashram in India: "I was wondering where I should live once this year of traveling has ended. . . . If I lived somewhere cheaper than New York, maybe I could afford an extra bedroom and then I could have a special meditation room! That'd be nice. I could paint it gold. Or maybe a rich blue. No, gold. No, blue. . . . Finally noticing this train of thought, I was aghast. I thought: . . . How about this, you spastic fool — how about you try to meditate right here, right now, right where you actually are?"
Her writing is deep and insightful, easy to read, and very captivating. She is self-deprecating; and is not one bit ashamed to bare it all out. I enjoyed the book for the most part, but found some parts boring. But I am really glad I read this book. And I will certainly read this book a few more times for sure. To describe this book in one sentence: Travel journal meets self-improvement guide. Go figure!
Here is one of my favorite conversations from the book:
So, when the old man asked me in person what I really wanted, I found other, truer words.
“I want to have a lasting experience with God,” I told him. “Sometimes I feel like I understand the divinity of this world, but then I lose it because I get distracted by my petty desires and fears. I want to be with God all the time. But I don’t want to be a monk, or totally give up worldly pleasures. I guess what I want to learn is how to live in this world and enjoy its delights, but also devote myself to God.”
Ketut said he could answer my question with a picture. He showed me a sketch he’d drawn during meditation. It was an androgynous human figure, standing up, hands clasped in prayer. But this figure had four legs and no head. Where the head should have been, there was only wild foliage of ferns and flowers. There was a small, smiling face drawn over the heart.”
“To find the balance you want,” Ketut spoke through his translator, “this is what you must become. You must keep your feet grounded so firmly on the earth that it’s like you have four legs, instead of two. That way, you can stay in the world. But you must stop looking at the world through your head. You must look through your heart, instead. That way you will know God.”
