In the end, truth will out!

 Compared to 2016 I was prepared this time, in case of Dejablue. I was hopeful but not confident. So, I did what I normally do -  prepare to wrap myself in a cocoon for a couple of months with comfort reads. Prior to November 3rd I ordered a bunch of books - "Transcendence', "Magna Carta', "Arctic Dreams", "Braiding sweetgrass"(you can see the theme) and told myself have a little faith in the system and the people and trust Truth will eventually out! There was one night of hopelessness this past week and I clung to the opening quote from Dan Jones' Magna Carta

I had to trust this, otherwise I had to painfully conclude that I am living in a Banana Republic. I am not a registered Democrat. I would like to believe that I will vote for the person and the platform and not for the party. Biden was not my first choice. Bernie was, but as I've mentioned many times, Barney the Purple dinosaur would have had my vote if he had stood against the incumbent. I understand Republican values even if I don't always agree with them. But I vehemently oppose a governance based on lies, division, and deception, one lacking human values of decency and empathy. I refuse to accept that a sexual assault perpetrator, a racist, a misogynist and a narcissist can represent America in its highest office. 

I understand the anger people felt in 2016 and why they wanted something drastically different from what they've always had. However, this conman did not deliver anything for anyone besides himself and that makes me sad more than angry. I am happy that we have a normal human being, someone who has failed in the past, has experienced innumerable losses and therefore has empathy, and someone who is willing to learn from his mistakes, as our President. I am ecstatic that a woman is in the White House who has a name that so many of my aunts proudly carry. She carries my hope for a diverse America where immigrants can rise to the very top. While this euphoria is visible in me, I know that this is also the moment for deep soul-searching. 

70M people voted for Trump. I am not going to dismiss them as racists or irrational. The two-party system and winner-takes-all voting mechanism leaves no room for nuances. There is not a way to say that I am for lower taxes but I am pro-choice or to say I am pro-life but i want healthcare for all, or to say I want climate action but don't want to give up my meat. Life is not black and white, but our electoral system is unfortunately Red or Blue. I also know when faced with changes that are outside our control we have a tendency to double down on our beliefs.

I now see Biden's appeal - he is known to make deals, known to compromise and reach across the aisle.  But I hope the other side responds and reaches back. I want the Green New Deal, I want healthcare for all, and I want public education to be well funded, and I want a woman to be 100% responsible for her own body and her own choices. However 50% of the electorate is not going to have these exact same wants. I know that certain fights cannot be compromised (after all certain rights are inalienable), but are there other middle grounds we can seek? Can we fight systemic racism without completely de-funding the police? Can we provide healthcare in an affordable way without losing private option? Can we not pit the economy against covid as though it is one or the other? These might not be the conversations I wanted, but these are the conversations we need to have. 

For many progressives this might not be what we aspired to, but the focus should be on driving changes bottoms-up. When changes happen at the local level in their community, people become less fearful and have time to get used to the change. I was thrilled to hear that Oklahoma elected its first Black, Muslim, non-gender binary person to its legislature. Missouri elected its first Black congresswoman. Where I live, the electorate voted for someone who is for mass transit as opposed to road-widening as a solution to our transit and climate change problems. To me, the persons occupying the White House should reflect our bigger aspirational ideals but true change begins at the local level. 

Here I have a couple of things to say to Indian Americans. While we rejoice that 'one of us' has reached great heights, we should remember Kamala's mom's courage. Her participation in Civil Rights movement is a call to action in our times. Indians often view themselves as legal immigrants who are outstanding citizens because of our education and contributions to the economy. This was all possible thanks to the Civil Rights movement by MLK. We basically rode the wave and won the immigration lottery without putting our bodies on the line. That is why Shyamala Gopalan is my hero. Today when I support BLM or Black Mama's Bailout I do it as a tribute to what the Civil Rights movement did for people like me. Now that one of our own is going to be in the White House, let's acknowledge how we got here and pay our dues. Everyone from Tamil Nadu has a Kamala in their lives. The Kamalas I knew were fighters against all odds who overcame unprecedented challenges. I associate the name with courage and strength because of the people I knew in my family who bore that name. I wish Joe and Kamala all the very best as they face unprecedented challenges. 

The men who stood at Runnymede in June 1215 and came up with the charter that challenged the excesses of the rulers had no idea that the document would inspire a middle aged immigrant amidst a nerve wracking election in the US in 2020. As I read more about it I was a bit disappointed that this was not all that we make it out to be, but that's the power of a symbol, especially one that has become synonymous with challenge to authority. While I will revel in symbolism for the next couple of weeks I know that meaningful action is needed to realize the ideals of democracy and I commit to that.

Vote 2020

 This year is rapidly approaching its end and come November we are going to be voting in what seems like a monumental election for a number of reasons. At the time of writing this I have already cast my ballot and got my first-ever flu shot - two civic duties performed while wearing a mask. I never imagined it would be like this but here we are. I am sure someday we will look back on these times and be able to see the forest, but right now I am only seeing the undergrowth in front of me, not even the trees and there seems no way out of the forest. 

If anyone out there is still wondering if they should vote then I am going to turn to art to help inspire them - specifically two artworks that have been speaking to me in these times. Many years back, at the Louvre I gave them only a fleeting glance, but if I ever make it to the Louvre again then I know where I am headed. 

 

The Raft of the Medusa by Gericault seems like the perfect metaphor for our times. An incompetent and inexperienced captain given command over a ship because of political connections wrecks the Meduse. Not enough boats to carry the 400 people, a make-shift raft is all that is available for the unlucky who are then cut loose to fend for themselves with just one bag of biscuits. Only a dozen survive after a chance rescue in the open ocean but only after resorting to cannibalism. Gericault portrays human misery but his work is also an ode to survival against all odds.

This painting has been on my mind for the past few weeks. Covid, economic collapse, environmental disasters are all hitting us and we have callous, unreliable, incompetent "leaders" who are quick to cut the raft adrift. I know that given my socioeconomic situation I will probably be on one of the boats and not on the raft, but I also know that these past four years the raft has been occupied by Dreamers, migrant children at the border, Puerto Ricans following Maria, George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and soon it could be occupied by people with pre-existing conditions. The French monarchy was shamed following the incident depicted in the painting. Unfortunately, shame and embarrassment don't seem to exist for our current crop of leaders who can say one thing today and take a 180 degree view tomorrow all without missing a heartbeat. So it is time we ask ourselves if passivity is acceptable, when people on rafts are being abandoned by those on boats, knowing well that the randomness of tragedy can put any one of us on a raft?

The other painting on my mind is by Gros - Napoleon visiting the plague victims at Jaffa

 

One of the best known pieces of propaganda art, this shows Napoleon at his best. A fearless leader, with no masks or PPE, visits victims of the plague quarantined in an Armenian monastery and in fact touches them despite his doctor trying to stop him. The consensus of art historians is that this painting was commissioned as a propaganda piece especially to quell rumors that after this visit Napoleon ordered the execution of the plague victims.  Besides Napoleon's photo-op this painting reflects our current crisis in many other ways. Do you have any doubts who is held responsible for the plague? Not the invading army or the sack of Jaffa, but this is "foreign plague" as seen by the exotic backdrop for the painting.  The Orients have always been blamed for the plague in history and one overlooks the fact that in this case the invading French army intruded into the Ottomans' domain. The conflict between what Napoleon wanted and what his medical officer recommended is left unsaid. Napoleon is in the business of politics, the doctor in the business of saving lives. Napoleon eventually blamed the plague and the practitioners of medicine for his failed campaign and left it to them to deal with the victims. Sounds familiar?  All leaders make use of art as a propaganda tool and Napoleon was no different. What one sees in this painting depends on what one feels about Napoleon. But it is important to remember that Napoleon met his Waterloo eventually and Gros who had hitched his fortunes to the Emperor found critics coming after his painting and his part in the propaganda. 

This election season, I am sick and tired of TV ads and the pamphlets that bombard me with propaganda. Unlike Gros' painting I can't admire these propaganda pieces as I am living through these times. Truth and trust have vanished from the system. While all politicians lie, some do lie far, far more than others. While we all have come to expect some lies from our leaders and can live with those in "normal" circumstances these are anything but normal times. So am hoping that people don't get deterred by long lines and having to wear masks but take the time to vote so we can restore some semblance of normalcy. I will look forward to the day when all this is behind us and future historians and artists look back and say, yes it was a time of chaos and pain but people didn't let covid-fatigue stop them from putting their best foot forward.

Cricket Country

When I picked up "The Boundless Sea", I looked at the other titles nominated for the prestigious Wolfson History Prize and Prashant Kidambi's "Cricket Country: An Indian Odyssey in the Age of Empire" caught my eye. It has been a couple of decades since I have followed International Cricket (and most organized sports for that matter), but my husband's mid-life crisis has him on a personal cricket journey, and as a co-traveler in his life, I am on the periphery of that journey. I thought this book might intrigue him and might actually force him to pick up a book for a change. The odds are pretty low, but one can still hope. 

I am of the firm belief that two people's interests don't have to match for a long term, successful relationship as long as there is mutual respect, so I wasn't bothered when we first met more than two decades back that none of our interests aligned except, back then I too followed sports though not sporty myself. But the day we were getting ready for our plane ride back to the US from India after our wedding, I was happy to note he packed a book for the flight, albeit a technical book called "Real Analysis." It is a 20+ hour flight from India to the US and he spent a sum total of 2 mins on the book before he decided to take a nap! Since then, this scene has been repeated innumerable times in the 22 years of our marriage and the countless long distance trips we've made.  "Real analysis" has accompanied us all the time but the bookmark hasn't moved beyond the first few pages. It is now a token of luck that we carry with us, one that we all know is a mere token and will never be read. Will "Cricket Country" fare any better? I don't know, but at least I enjoyed the book more as a history buff. 

Cricket is perhaps the most long lasting colonial legacy that the British left and as Edward Said reminds us, the Empire Strikes back. The game now is more Indian than British that Ashish Nandy's pithy saying "Cricket is an Indian game accidentally discovered by the British" rings true for modern India. But back in 1911 when the first All-India team was assembled to tour England, no one could have anticipated what would come in the years after Indian independence in 1947. Prashant Kidambi's focus is on this particular tour but the actual tour starts in his book only around page 250. The preceding pages detail the first Parsee tour of England back in 1888 and the development of native cricket in Bombay spearheaded by the Parsee community. As with many things in India, cricket back then was also a communal activity and soon enough there were Hindu Cricket Clubs, Muslim clubs all playing cricket sometimes against each other and sometimes against the colonizer. In those days, cricket was seen as a way of uniting the ruler and the ruled and an All-India tour would promote unity among the people of India, give them a proper education about how the game is played in the mothership, and also promote the civilizing mission of Imperial Britain. Kidambi gives us a profile of the 1911 team which eventually comprised of Parsees, Hindu Brahmins, Muslims and two Dalits (the Palwankar brothers, Baloo and Shivram) all led by the Maharaja of Patiala Bhupinder Singh who accepted the position to create a favorable impression with his British minders. 

1911 was an interesting year in Britain with the coronation of King George V and it was the pinnacle of Imperialism. In addition to the cricketers from India, there were also a team of wrestlers, an Indian strongman, a racket champion (precursor to squash) all in Britain at the same time. Kidambi gives us memorable stories about these people too which truly deserve a book of their own. The cricket team performed dismally against first class cricket clubs, fared better against lesser teams and had some success in Scotland and Ireland.The team was inexperienced, was a conglomeration of individuals who had not played together as a team, were in a very different environment, were on a brutal schedule with no more than 2 days of rest between games, and were deserted by their Captain and one of their star players mid-way through the tour. The Palwankar brothers, especially Baloo distinguished himself as a bowler of great merit and his brother saved the Indian team a couple of times with his scintillating batting. Baloo went onto have a successful political career and his life intersects Gandhi and Ambedkar at a later point. Indian cricket history is incomplete without mentioning Ranjit Singh. Being singularly gifted as a cricketer, his only contribution to Indian cricket is to help break the stereotype that the game cannot be played by natives. Other than that he appeared to be just a savvy political operator who was looking out for himself. The book is full of interesting facts that I've been spouting to my husband in the hope he will be interested enough to pick it up. For e.g. the 1911 Indian team possessed fairly outdated technical knowledge that they experienced the googly for the first time, and that the Yorker was probably invented by an American from Philadelphia called John Barton King.

The book was a fun and fast read and made me relive some of my childhood memories. I was 9 when India won the World Cup cricket for the first time and four years later India hosted the World Cup! The evening before the start of the matches our old television broke down. I don't think we've made a faster purchase decision than buying a color television the night before the 1987 world cup. My dad, my brother and I were in Vivek & Co picking out our TV and asked for same day delivery. The funny part was the delivery truck had only one stop that night - our home, so the driver asked us if we wanted a ride back in the truck and there we were - the 3 of us and our TV in a Vivek & Co delivery truck making sure we had a fully functioning TV for the world cup. Needless to say, my dad was a huge fan and one of the items in his possession was a letter from the great England Keeper, Alan Knott, which on his passing is now a treasured artifact for my husband. Playing in a local cricket league has been one of the best things that happened to my husband and he also has a fabulous coach who does more than teach just cricket, someone who emphasizes the process instead of the outcomes. So while he might never pick up the book, I am genuinely happy he has picked up the bat and as his coach seems bent on teaching an old dog new tricks, I am happy to see him enjoy the game not just as a spectator. To that the 1911 All-India team has my thanks!

The Immortal SPB

 I asked my daughter to contribute her Top 15 SPB songs for all time and this is her list. She also said that she doesn't feel sad at his demise because and I quote "if there is anyone who has a shot at immortality it is him as his songs will live on forever!" So here is her list, not in any particular order.

1. Megam Kottatum
2. Keeravani
3. Autokaran Autokaran
4. Summa Kizhi
5. Ilamai Enum
6. Oruvan Oruvan
7. Poonthalir Aada
8. Ilaya Nila
9. Malayoram Veesum
10. Mama Un Ponna
11. Madai Thiranthu
12. Chinna Mani
13. Tholin Mele
14. Paadi Parantha Kili
15. Sangeetha Jaathi Mullai

Enjoy!

 

 

Covid Obituaries

This week I lost two people in India to COVID. They were both 74 years old. One was the legendary singer S.P. Balasubrahmanyam who provided the sound track of my life. The other was my aunt who was with me for many of my firsts. Although I never met the former, and hadn't seen the latter in nearly a decade both the losses feel extremely personal.

My aunt was one of those rare persons in my family who spoke multiple Indian languages and English. She was my aunt by her marriage to my maternal uncle, which explains her linguistic abilities as we just didn't have the genes for it in ours. She was one of the most cheerful people I ever knew. It did not mean she had a trouble free life. She just had the knack of having a sparkling smile and welcoming face no matter what. She, with my uncle, was always there for all my important first steps - my first school, my first job, my first trip abroad - and they, along with my parents set me up for success. She also took care of my maternal grandmother (her Mother-in-law) as though she was her own mother. That's something I would always remember her for. Yes, my grandmom was amazing, but caring for a 97 year old when you yourself are 70 and doing it with cheer is not easy. My uncle has a gruff exterior although he is one of the kindest people I know. You need time to warm up to him. My aunt smoothed his rough edges and made him palatable to strangers. Her death was untimely and completely avoidable. She had breathing issues but unfortunately an overrun medical system unable to handle COVID patients failed her as she could not get a doctor or a hospital to take her in. This fact is going to remain with my uncle and my cousin for a long time. She was a collateral damage to COVID and she will be sorely missed!

COVID also claimed the life of a legend this week. Growing up in Chennai in the '70s to '90s there was one thing constant in my life - seasons, politics, friends, interests and tastes change, life ebbs and flows - but throughout it all the voice of SPB was the one constant.  Tamil Nadu is famous for its polarizing dualities - MGR or Sivaji; ADMK or DMK; Kamal or Rajini; (and like that's even possible) Illayaraja or Rahman - but everyone and I mean EVERYONE unified around the voice of SPB. You get a bunch of Tamils in a room, sooner or later we will end up discussing Illayaraja + SPB songs. I definitely went through phases in my musical taste - I learned Carnatic, listened to a lot of pop, love alternate rock and even some metal, now I listen to opera. But once again throughout it all, SPB never left my life. I had seen him in live shows when I was in my undergrad in Chennai and then again in 2012 in California where he mesmerized my then 7 year old who also grew up with his music. I don't remember a day when we didn't have his voice in our midst. One of the earliest memories of my childhood was my brother's Kindergarten "interview". He was 3 and I was 7. My mom desperately wanted him to get into this school as it was close to our home and near mine - as a working mom this was critical for her. But you can't prepare a 3 year old who had a mind of his own! When asked what was his name, he belted out a "My name is Billa". The interviewer burst out laughing, much to the relief of my mother. He was then asked to sing a song (she didn't say rhyme) and so he did - another SPB tune. Subconsciously he covered both bases (Rajini and Kamal) and one can safely assume that the teacher must have been a SPB fan as the school did pick him! My brother and I never agreed on anything until we became adults, but SPB was the one great unifier in our childhood. SPB was with us for all occasions. He sang in 16 Indian languages and he was the one, before globalization and Rupert Mudroch invading our skies, who taught us the numerous genres of music - from disco to Indian classical. There was nothing he could not do. Dulcet tones with emotive power that stirred something deep within us - no wonder he was also a terrific actor although he only acted in a handful of movies. When I moved to the US I made a list of some of my favorite tunes (a couple of hundred) and my dad and brother got them recorded for me in tapes and shipped them for me.  My daughter who was born in the US and grew up here, not fluent in Tamil, certainly doesn't understand the lyrics, has a playlist in her iPod for SPB! This is a child who learns the piano, loves Radiohead, Spoon, Imagine Dragons, Adele, Massive Attack and she still thinks SPB is special. There is a SPB for every occasion, she says. We were in Iceland a couple of summers back with our friends, and our kids were being DJs and suddenly they would say "it's time for some good SPB" and there he was -  in Iceland, in our van, two families from two different parts of India with kids born and raised in the US listening to his voice! It didn't feel surreal, it felt natural. He was 74 when he passed and normally I would say he had a good life, left us a collection of 40,000 songs, enough for multiple lifetimes. Anyone else, I would say their best days were behind them. But not him - he had so much more to offer. He was 74 when he sang this song (one of his last) - a mindless, opening number - but the energy in his voice is pure magic, that my 15 year old once played it non-stop over a weekend. In Tamil Nadu music he was with us for three golden periods - MSV, Illayaraja and A.R.Rahman - three generations of composers and towards the end of his life sang for composers who as kids grew up listening to him. He was truly ageless that I never imagined there would be a time when we will not have any more new songs from him. This loss feels personal because his voice was personal to each and everyone of us and losing this constant almost feels like the loss of a parent.  I was lucky to have had him in my life and thankful for the joy and comfort he provided. Here is a list of my favorites which will remain with me forever

 

1. Sangeetha Megam - A song that eulogizes him 

2.Unakenna Mele Nindrai

3. Sangeetha Jathi Mullai

4. Pani vizhum

5. Sundari Kannal

6. Roja Ondru

7. Chinna Mani

8. Andhi Mazhai

9. Ilaya Nila

10. Namma Ooru Singari

11. Singalathu China Kuyile

12. O Vasantha Raja

13. Ada Mapillai

14. Anjali Anjali

15. Engeyum Epodhum

Oceans, Cosmere, Roman Lawyers & Millenial Romance - Books of September

I spent the last couple of months tackling not one, but four, 1000 pagers. I have survived and am here to say that the effort was worth it. The Boundless Sea  by David Abulafia, a human history of the oceans, was the only non-fiction of the 4.

The Boundless Sea is a fabulous book meticulous in its details, rich in colorful characters and set a number of facts straight for me. Growing up in India, ironically we accepted texts that stated Vasco Da Gama discovered India, much like Columbus' discovery of America! These statements not only ignored the presence of native population, they also ignored the seafaring adventures across the oceans by the indigenous people of these nations long before Europeans entered into the picture. Until the arrival of European adventurers the oceans were mainly used by traders, and successful trading usually involved learning another culture and customs. Abulafia's book is full of tales about how religions like Buddhism spread through the oceans, evidences of Greeks worshiping Indian Gods, a settlement of Jewish people in India, seals that bear inscriptions from multiple languages. However, the Portuguese and Spanish with the help of Italian seafarers took this to the next level. The big change that the Europeans brought about was the concept of conquest and colonization to control trade routes usually in search of a particular hot commodity. Human history of the oceans appears to be a human history of commodities - myrrh and frankincense, amber, spices (pepper and cinnamon especially), salt, herrings, tea, fur, and later sugar and cotton which in turn led to slavery. Abulafia could have told the story from the point of view of these products and our insatiable need for them. The oceans connect all corners of the earth, so it was no surprise that especially in the 15th century two key factors connect history of all humanity 1) The importance of the Indian & Chinese spice/tea trade to all European nations 2) European Christians wanting to avoid the Red Sea and the Islamic centers of trade in their effort to control the Indies. The colonization of the New World was because of this arms race to discover a route to India and that race determined winners and losers in multiple continents with consequences till date.

This book is not for the faint hearted or those with poor upper body strength (I got a physical copy - a mistake). Many days I wondered if it was for me too as it was just too much information to process! But Abulafia is a great storyteller and the book deserves the Wolfson History prize. If you don't want to read the book I recommend listening to this interview

 I was introduced to Brandon Sanderson by my daughter. This marked a big moment in our mother-daughter relationship. I remember when I started curating books and movies for my dad and it is inevitable I am at that stage right now. I am a big fan of Sci-fi/ Fantasy/ Speculative fiction. I like to think I don't distinguish between hi-brow literature and genre fiction. I love the great masters of the genre from Tolkien, Frank Herbet, GRR, Ursula Le Guin, Margaret Atwood, Octavia Butler, Neil Gaiman and recently Neal Stephenson, Ann Leckie. I regularly check out the Hugo/Nebula/ Locus award winners. But it's been a long time since I was consumed by an epic fantasy like that of Sanderson's. I have to say he is truly the Tolkien for this generation, and yes I am ranking him higher than GRR! I read Mistborn and Stormlight (3 books in each series) in a span of 2 months and they are still with me. The world creation, character arcs, the plot, the magic systems and the no-gimmick and no-pandering style is just so refreshing. The depth of philosophy and religion in these books and the emphasis on civil discourse is fantastic! Most Sci-fi/fantasy writers fall into the liberal/ atheist category and then there are people like Orson Scott Card who holds despicable views. It is hard to separate art from the artist (which is why I can't bring myself to read Ender's Game or Mists of Avalon). Sanderson doesn't shy away from religion in his books and his life but is not a bigot and doesn't have a hidden agenda to spread the beliefs of LDS. In fact the struggle between the Parshendi and humans in Stormlight seemed to me, a commentary on the relationship between the Paiutes and Mormons in Utah. What is the nature of god when we seem to be tearing each other apart, what does it mean to live a life of honor when everything around you has gone to dogs, what does it mean for a god to die and how does an atheist and a believer react to that - these are all questions raised and discussed in the Cosmere universe, and I found the arguments intellectually stimulating. In one of my favorite quotes from his book a character says (and I paraphrase) a hypocrite is someone who is in the process of changing and without change and flow we cannot evolve. In these times when we are so polarized, listening to another, discussing, understanding and evolving are all crucial if we want to solve existential problems. Sanderson is also very generous as he puts up all his lectures on writing on Youtube something my daughter truly appreciated. I was hesitant to pick up Stormlight as I know he has planned 10 books in this series and has completed only 3. I am already waiting for Winds of Winter from GRR  and it feels like an eternity, so I was hesitant to pick up an unfinished series. But the opportunity to read something with my daughter over the next 15 years was too great to pass up and I am richer for it. Now we both are waiting for the fourth book coming this thanksgiving.

RBG's passing was a sad day not just for women but for all underdogs. We shouldn't forget that one of her most successful gender discrimination case was won by her defending the right of a man to collect social security benefits as a home maker! The crazy election cycle just got crazier and I did not want to get sucked into a vortex of negativity. Instead, as a tribute to RBG I spent the day re-reading Mary Beard's Women and Power - A Manifesto. In Western civilization it looks like the first feminists were all lawyers - Maesia and Afrania who both went to court and were ridiculed for their androgyny - an outspoken woman has to be unnatural after all! So it seemed fitting that a petite, gentle lawyer had to school this country on gender equality. As Mary Beard states the problems are deep rooted and structural and as ancient as western civilization and dismantling these structures is going to take time. RIP RBG. The rest of us have work to do to make sure all the gains you made for us are not lost.

The other book I finished this month was Normal People by Sally Rooney which made everyone's list include President Obama's. I didn't think this book would appeal to me as I was not the target audience (or so I thought) but I was pleasantly surprised by the writing. I soon found myself absorbed by Marianne's and Connell's "relationship" - was it friendship or friendship with benefits? If you remember Seinfeld The Deal and thought how funny it was, take that premise subtract the jokes, add in smartphones + social media, depression, violence, alienation, class conflicts you get Normal People. Maybe it is the pandemic but I felt that as we all experience social isolation we realize that it is important to have at least one other person that we can absolutely lean on and in Normal People the two protagonists realize that they have been that person for each other but do not seem to have the ability to articulate that. Can tweets, tiktoks and texts help a human connect at a deeper level with another? At the risk of sounding like a Luddite, I have to say that I found that Marianne and Connell (despite being well read, intelligent people who cared for each other) could not communicate openly and this thwarted communication was at the root of all their troubles.

Anyway those were the books of this past month. I am trying a few books now and while non-fiction has been easy to find, I am yet to get Stormlight out of my system and so the quest for fiction books for next month is still ongoing.

Grace and Grief

 I remember the day I took my daughter to a double feature. We were going to see "A Wrinkle in Time" and "Black Panther" back to back. I had been trying to get my daughter to watch superhero movies and somehow she was never drawn to them. When I walked into the theater I assumed she would love Wrinkle, a book she and I read together when she was 7 and maybe not enjoy Panther. It turned out to be the opposite! She found the colorful world of  Wrinkle in the movie not jive with her mental image of the world from the book. On the other hand, she fell in love with Black Panther. There was something about the movie that appealed to her and since then we watched the 20 odd Avenger movies and she still ranks Black Panther as her favorite. The movie brought joy to billions and we were no exceptions. You didn't have to be black to appreciate what a force for good that movie was. Believe me, I have seen Indiana Jones Temple of Doom and know a thing or two about stereotypes in Hollywood. But Panther arguably did more than even Henry Louis Gates Jr's brilliant documentary on Africa to challenge Eurocentric (which is inevitably white-centric) views of the world. So, the death of Chadwick Boseman came as a shock to me like it did for the world. But I was unprepared for the intensity to which it would affect me.

I don't know why the death of Chadwick Boseman has hit me hard. I am a cancer-hardened veteran who has lost my dad, two uncles, one of my closest cousins, a couple of friends and more relatives to cancer in the span of 17 years. But this one felt as personal as the deaths in my family. Maybe it was just this man's gentle, lightning smile. Maybe it was his grace and dignity that we saw on and off screen but is now 100X magnified knowing that all that grace was despite facing something as horrendous as cancer. Maybe it was the premium he put on his privacy. But him going through his treatments and still showing up to the sets to bring joy to the world as Black Panther transcends greatness. 

 

Till date, I had only my dad as a model for grace in the face of an uphill struggle against cancer.  He was funny, joking and making light of his struggles, thoughtful about his caregivers and the nurses in his hospice till the very end. But in a few rare moments he confessed to me that he was tired of fighting and wanted the end to be quick and made me promise to not put him on life support in case he went into a coma. Cancer can do that to you. Somehow Boseman's death brought back all those intense feelings.

 

17 years back just after my dad died I found comfort in Rainier NP under the gaze of the mountain. I had not shed any tears in India as I had to make room for my mom's grief and also had to handle the funeral. It was in Rainier amidst the wilderness, in that solitude,  that I finally found the space to come to terms with my own grief. I was in Sequoia NP when I found out about Boseman's passing and standing under those trees I sought comfort and saw his spirit in those giants.Very often when people die we collectively remember only their good things. In my dad's case I knew that was all there was to remember. He was 59 when he passed. In my mind he is always the Atticus of Mocking Bird and never the old, cynical,  grumpy Atticus of Go Set a Watchman as he never reached that age and I believe his basic nature wouldn't have changed much. I have a feeling Boseman was like that. The goodness that people attribute to him is not simply a case of remembering only the good. It feels like that was the sum total of his soul. May he rest in peace.