Monday, January 27, 2014

A post for all the Goddesses

I can't remember the last time I read a non-fiction book cover to cover in 2 days! "Goddesses: Mysteries of the Feminine Divine" was one of those books that once you start reading is so hard to put down. When I heard that Joseph Campbell's book on Goddesses was available I didn't think
twice and got it right away. I've read his Power of Myth, Hero with a thousand faces and have always felt he should have done the same for the heroines of Mythology. Now someone finally pieced together his lectures and writings and put out this volume which is a must read at least according to me.

As a modern, so-called liberated woman with a feminist bent of mind, I constantly juggle different roles throughout the day. My choice of career has also put me in a setting where i am always in the minority w.r.t my gender and have to negotiate work spaces that are often male dominated. To add on top of that, I was brought up in a patriarchal culture (India) and although born a Hindu and very familiar with the goddesses of the indian pantheon, i felt most of them were seen as consorts to the men in power, mostly role models for a domestic life (except for Kali of course) that left me wanting.

East or in the West women are now at exciting crossroads. I read somewhere that in the next decade 800M women are going to enter the formal economy as wage earners for the first time - majority from the so-called emerging markets! Everyone is touting the "She-economy". On the one hand, individual achievement of women is lauded and many barriers have been broken, but on the other our biological and social instinct still reigns supreme. In a non-scientific experiment i scanned through the facebook feeds of my women friends to see what topics they write about and this seemed to confirm the fact that biology and society trumps! No wonder Katniss Everdeen resonated with millions of women and girls who are looking for an alternative mythology.

How do we women (and men) find our footing in these times? What is the role of the goddess? Is it primarily biological - the giver of life? Hasn't the Goddess also been the symbol of transformation throughout history? Hasn't she also been a muse, the inspiration for creativity? You will find the answers in this book.

Campbell traces the origins of the Goddess mythology and how it differs from plantation tribes (that are feminine) and herding/warring tribes (which are more masculine). What happened when these two groups of people met? How did one mythology overtake or incorporate the other? I personally liked the section of the book where he compares the Illiad and the Odyssey and how you could view the former as masculine and the latter as feminine. He draws on all religions and shows us how these myths are universal.

It was sheer joy to read this book. At many times in my life i have had to move from one role to another and in most of these transformations i have learned something about myself, grown through that experience although some of these were very difficult circumstances. Luckily i am also married to a person who has been with me through these circumstances and has not shied away from his own transformations either. It also happened that this weekend we finished watching the final movie of the Linklater trilogy "Before Midnight". Celine struggling with motherhood, her career, reaching her 40s, feeling like not having any time for her own passions - i felt like telling her pick up a copy of "Goddesses" and let Joseph Campbell guide you through the myths of the goddesses who were and will always be.

And no this is not a self-help book, and this is certainly not a  Sheryl Sandberg "lean in". JC doesn't have all the answers, but he thinks that today's Goddesses will find a way out and write their own myths. In his own words.....

"The challenge of the moment—and there are many who are meeting it, accepting it, and responding to it, in the way not of men but of women—the challenge is to flower as individuals, neither as biological archetypes nor as personalities imitative of the male. And, to repeat, there are no models in our mythology for an individual woman’s quest. Nor is there any model for the male in marriage to an individuated female. We are in this thing together and have to work it out together"

Monday, January 13, 2014

Three Generation of one-time liars

My maiden attempt to tell a funny story in verse. Some of it happened as is, and for the rest I've taken poetic license

====================================================
“Mama I’ve lied” she cried
"I know I’ve been bad
Didn't want to make you sad
Throwing out my report card
As my grades weren't up to par
Now I know I have no recourse
As you have an inside source
And as my plans went bust
Didn’t want to lose your trust"

“Mama I’ve lied” she cried
Braced herself for the bumpy ride
There she stood a figure so sorry
But all that she got was....
A hug and a story!


Now, now, dear. Don't fret my baby
Argus with hundred eyes, I maybe
But this wise mom was a child once
Who did things best fit for a dunce
"Papa I've lied" I had cried
I know I've been bad
Didn't want to make you mad
To your numerous warnings, i paid no heed
Ambling along alleys, caught up in greed
Like a pirate on rampage hunting for gold
Looking for treasures on streets so cold
Lost in the labyrinth, when darkness came down
Until I was found with tears streaming down


"Papa I've lied" I cried
Braced myself for the bumpy ride
There I stood a figure so sorry
But all that I got was ...
A hug and a story!

Now now dear, don't fret my baby
Theseus in a labyrinth I maybe
But this wise man was a child once
Who did things best fit for a dunce
To dad's numerous warnings, I paid no heed
Ambling along orchards, caught up in greed
Craving for blueberries, that tasted like manna
Dived under a fence, stole and did a runner
Feasted on them till i could take no more
Washed the stains off, till my tongue was sore
'til the news reached him embellished like a story

And there I stood a figure so sorry
But all that I got was....
No hugs, no stories, and no dinner too
Just plain old tirade and a smack or two
Since then no berries and no lies for me
This is my message for you from me

So you see my dear, we've all been there
Three generation of one-time liars
Terrible at lying although we were
At least we got a story to share

Thursday, January 9, 2014

Not ready to accept defeat .... yet

It has been 4 years since i started the OBOC project, and i am still only a little more than half way through. Since then as it has been kindly pointed out, I realized a number of others have been doing the same thing, and recently Ann Morgan did 197 books in 1 year while, just like me, holding a full time job! Kudos to her, and her idea of getting books from readers around the world. I have exclusively relied on the public library system here in the US which is pretty amazing, still not complete.

It calls for a special kind of discipline to be doing a project like this and frankly I don't seem to have it. I have often gotten bored, felt stifled by the project, experienced withdrawal symptoms from not reading my favorite authors and picked up a number of other books, including children's literature which was a goldmine that i stumbled upon thanks to my 8 year old, instead of focusing exclusively on OBOC. So, should I give up? I thought about it long and hard for about 5 mins and concluded, no. I am doing mainly for exposing myself to literature and culture from around the world. This can be a lifetime quest, so what's another year to OBOC :)

On that note, just wrapped up "How to get filthy rich in Rising Asia" by Mohsin Hamid the brilliant and funny writer from Pakistan. His Reluctant fundamentalist had received rave reviews, but I decided to pick up this one as i was intrigued by the concept of a Self Help Book, a category that i absolutely loathe. Although not set in any particular country in Asia, it is self-evident that he is inspired by Pakistan and for me, the setting could have just as well been in any town in India. Written in second person and structured like a self help book it tells the rags to riches to moderately-comfortable life of the unnamed protagonist who had the small luxury of having moved to the city and receiving basic education - both of which are critical elements for breaking through in the new Asia.

It is a very colorful account that captures the excitement of the burgeoning middle class in Asia and how one breaks the poverty cycle by hook or crook in an attempt to get ahead. Of course this involves a lot of personal sacrifice - time, money, morals, health and love, and our protagonist hasn't a moment of rest or peace until the end arrives.

By not naming any character, or city Mohsin Hamid has created a novel that is representative of the millions in Asia that are trying everyday to break the poverty cycle.If Hamid was trying to make a statement against globalization or marketization I failed to grasp that from the novel. I found myself caught up in the life of our unnamed hero and even when he was selling expired goods or packaging tap water as bottled water, I didn't feel like completely giving up on him. Although I can't condone his actions I can claim to understand him. When corruption is rampant at all levels what is our poor hero to do?

It is a short novel (more a novella) and an easy and quick read, almost a page turner. I think one can expect more exciting works from Mohsin Hamid as he certainly has a pulse on his native Pakistan.

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Desert Island Books



One of my favorite podcasts is the BBC’s Desert Island Discs. A celebrity from a wide range of fields is interviewed by the host Kirsty Young and during the course of the interview the celebrity plays DJ and picks out their top 8 tracks that mean the most to them that they would carry it along when castaway to a desert island. 

Although I don’t think I will ever be on a Desert Island (not a real one or on the program) I recently asked myself which books would I carry with me to a desert island. Then I realized that it was so hard to pick just 8 books so i cheated and said i will take the complete works of the following authors. So here is my list, not in any particular order:

  1.   P.G.Wodehouse (I will certainly need a laugh) 
  2.  Joseph Campbell (will take his lectures as audiobooks as i love his voice)
  3. Margaret Atwood (A dose of feminism will be a boost when i am the only person on the island)
  4. Jared Diamond (i can contemplate about our civilization as i will now have all the time in the world)
  5. Steinbeck (i will get every variety of emotion with his books, and i can fondly think of California my adopted homeland with so much pride)
  6. Harper Lee (she wrote just one, but that was enough and it will still teach me some life lessons)
  7. Kalki (he made Tamil literature so accessible to me, and his books will keep me connected to my native land)
  8. James Joyce (so i can finally claim to have finished Ulysses)
There were a few more in the running - Chinua Achebe, Tagore, Isabel Allende, Barbara Kingsolver were strong contenders. But these were the 8 that bubbled to the top.

Would be great to hear from you about your Desert Island Books!

OBOC - Spain



An object at rest will remain at rest, proclaimed Newton in his famous law of inertia, unless acted on by a force. Unfortunately for me there exists no such external force that can make me write, and no fracking seems to have been able to get to the intrinsic motivation that lies somewhere deep inside me.  I’ve heard many writers claim that the story just wrote itself, and they were just a medium. That (in addition to countless other reasons) explains why I could never be a writer. It has always been too darn difficult for me. Anyway today the resolve to write came to me as I could see the year drawing to a close and I didn’t want to close 2013 without an entry in December.

Shadow of the wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafron was my pick for Spain. I am a fan of most things used/recycled (read, I am cheap). So when I found the Shadow of the wind available at my local library for 25c I decided to ignore the alphabetical order of things and jumped straight to Spain. I am also a fan of most things Gothic. In fact one of my favorite Jane Austen novels is Northanger Abbey (gothic parody at its best) and my love for all things black and all art from Tim Burton is known to friends and family. So it was no wonder that I enjoyed Shadow of the wind. I mean a book that opens with a cemetery of forgotten books was certainly going to have my undivided (well, almost) attention.

The hero Daniel finds himself completely possessed by a book with the eponymous title written by the little known Julian Carax. Having “rescued” this book from the cemetery when he was 10years old, he finds that his whole life is governed by some kind of a gothic quest for Julian and the story behind the book. Interwoven into the story, is the Spanish civil war and the air of unrest, terror and suspicion that hung over Barcelona at that time.  Who is the mystery person buying up all the copies of Julian Carax’s works? What is the connection between the monstrous Fumero, who is now firmly with Franco and Julian? Will Daniel’s life mirror that of Julian’s or will he find a happier ending? The book is a great read, so I suggest you find out yourself.

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

The revenge of the dolls - Happy Navratri!



This is a story about stories and dolls, and this is the perfect season to narrate this story. Yes it is Navratri– the festival of nine nights which is also the doll festival called Golu in my native Chennai. Growing up I had very mixed feelings about this festival that when I emigrated, I chose to keep it under lock in the cultural corner of my brain and throw away the key.
What did I have against Navratri you ask? Well for starters I had to dress up in clothes that I hated, and for the one hour that my mom left me in charge when she was out visiting the neighbors I had to deal with women visiting ours, and I felt like Scout did when she was surrounded by her aunt’s friends in The Mockingbird. Instead of the starched walls of pink penitentiary, I felt cornered by the 6 yards of ornate, elaborate, yet sweaty silk sarees which adorned and draped these wardens of culture. How I envied the men who would gladly escape the ordeal and sought refuge in the inner chambers of the home for the nine evenings refusing to come out. And to add fuel to the fire, I was expected to play my veena and show off my talents, and if food was the epitome of the Indian festival, this one was dealt a bad card – just “sundal” for 9 nights! How can these lifeless dolls hold so much power and sway over my life? Do you blame me for stretching my hands out like Andy Dufresne in Shawashank Redemption when I crawled through the airport lines and touched down in America and proclaimed my freedom!

And then I had a daughter and boy (or should I say “girl”) did that change everything! Suddenly words like "legacy, culture, heritage" came back into my language and started to make sense, as though I was a teenager in love and all the previously discarded meaningless lyrics of love songs suddenly start to make sense. So when she turned 3, I shocked my mother by proclaiming I was going to kick off the doll festival at our home here in America and I asked her if she had any of our old dolls still around. 

Contrary to what I said earlier, the old dolls were not truly lifeless. Life was breathed into them by the stories told by my grandmother – like the “Blue Shiva” which was always the first doll we would set up, the very first doll my parents bought as a couple; or the “baby boy” with his hands under his chin – a mirror of one that was at our cousins', or the pairs of animals that arrived at our home every year, thanks to my maternal uncle who probably thought he was Noah rescuing these pairs from the streets of Chennai to the ark that was our golu padi. As I write this my jukebox of a mind is popping up images of me in Kuralagam with my mom (the only other shopping besides books that I truly enjoyed) or my grandmother coming home in a rickshaw in pouring rain clasping a couple of dolls which she thought were absolutely needed for our collection, and the kids in my neighborhood going out on golu visits as a group and rating different golus and the sundals.

So here I am on my 4th year of golu in America and although I started off with completely new dolls, some of them have stories attached to them already, and not just the mythological ones. Some remind us of friends who no longer live near us geographically, and others of our travels to countries near and far, still others tell us stories about my daughter’s current interest (Ninjas rule!), and some are just there to speak for my mom and they appear to be saying “I told you so” while she has the sagacity to not say so.

As we welcome friends to our home these days, I confess that I’ve come a long way from my first golu when I was seen sporting lounge pants, to this year when I am actually seen in a decent looking kurta (thanks mom!) and am making the same sundals which suddenly taste delicious, and asking my daughter to play the piano for the dolls which are back in power at our home… just nine nights after all.



Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Reading...just not writing

From the date of my last post, it can be easily misconstrued that I haven't been reading much. On the contrary I have been quite busy reading away, just not the OBOC-type of books. What I haven't been doing is writing of any kind (and nope I don't consider writing bulleted executive readable powerpoints as writing). So i know this one is going to come out not to my satisfaction, still I can't keep postponing.

I've been getting my fix of crime writing. Jo Nesbo has become one of my most favorite crime writers and Harry Hole, the alcoholic, morbid, lone wolf my favorite detective of recent times. So, yes other than The Bat and The Police I am through with all the Harry Hole novels.


I am also juggling two non-fiction, Jared Diamond's latest on what we can learn from traditional societies and Barbara Tuchman's Distant Mirror (I started this as a prep for our whirlwind 7 country Europe tour and about half way through). Hopefully will finish those in a month.

In all this, I haven't abandoned OBOC. In fact finished 3 countries.

  • Lithuania - "Between shades of grey" (not to be confused with the other shades the whole world seems to have read) by Ruta Sepetys. This is a young adult novel that describes the untold and even forgotten horrors inflicted on Lithuanians by Russians following the invasion of 1939. Lina the 16 year old heroine of the novel is plucked from her seemingly normal life and is sent on what seems to be a one way journey to Siberia. How she survives and lives to tell the story is the novel. It is a work of fiction but inspired by true events. Somehow despite the poignant theme and the heart wrenching scenes this one did not work for me. 
  • Malawi - read a short story nominated for the caine prize called "Love on trial" by Stanley Kenani. I was slightly disappointed with this story as it wasted the premise by settling into known comfortable arguments and there was nothing uniquely African about it. Charles, a final year law student is caught engaging in a homosexual act. An outpouring of outrage, and the media circus that follows, leads him to a debate with a leading TV journalist. All the arguments are well known and predictable and seem to have been heard elsewhere. Maybe the subject is very new to Africa, still I expected a lot more local flavor. But I am happy for the nomination as it meant we get to read a young writer from Africa. I also read "The boy who harnessed the wind" by William Kamkwamba, but a lot has been said about that already.

  • Mexico - I started off with Death of Artemio Cruz, but I have to concede I was not proceeding at a satisfactory pace and all I can say it was not entirely my fault. Carlos Fuentes is partly responsible.Instead I switched to "Like water for chocolate" by Laura Esquivel and now that was quite a fast read! She is not Isabel Allende, at least not yet, and her magical realism is a bit over the top, still I loved the concept for the book. Each chapter begins with a recipe and a number of themes like feminism, marrying for love, the Mexican revolution are all "baked" within.
I am now reading "Shadow of the wind" by the Spanish writer Carlos Ruiz Zafron and loving it. It is gothic, and is book about books, and has some really spectacular writing. So as I said, I am completely captivated. Will write more when I am done.

That's a wrap!