SlishaCrazy

Once a year my school would take us on a picnic. Every day one section of one class would go. And since we have 2+10+2 classes and the lower classes have up to 10 sections it took us a good few months to get it all done. And the picnics were around the rainy season. Not the monsoon really. But Vizag has a late monsoon Jul/Aug and it has a cyclone storm every Oct/Nov. So you could have rain-free picnic but you could not bet on it. And it was short but it was fun. It had to be a school day so we left at 8.30 and came back by 1. Picnic was fun at school. We would bring our toys out to the school. We would ride our school bus for about an hour and sing songs. At the picnic spot we would play games, play with the toys we brought, share the different food we brought, run around for no reason at all, sit around and play board games too and I loved the swing. Most of the times we went to Mudasarlova. It's a reservoir with a park. Occasionally we went to Vuda Park. It is more or les

I did not want to write about this book because I had nothing good to say. This was by far the worst book I had ever read in my entire life. I could not believe that I read and appreciated another book by him called Chanakya's Chan t.  But I realised that book was different. I did not like his writing style at all but I appreciated the concept and there was indeed a story in it. This book had very little story. It was a bunch of fact, real or not, thrown in together in a mish-mash bound by such poor writing skills that I cannot believe it ever even got published let alone be bought. And no concept was even explained, but just somehow added together. Did you know that simply by being hypnotised you go back into your past lives, as many as you like. And you see the people exactly as they were, it doesn't matter that one time you were European, once Indian and once Japanese. When he did talk about things other than "facts" the descriptions were so weird and out of plac

A friend of mine, non-Indian, was telling me how to pronounce my name correctly! He claimed a certain letter was silent. I told him that in my language you read and write and pronounce in the same way and there is no difference, unlike English. He asked me what my language is. I said Telugu. He asked me what my tribe is. I asked him what he meant by it. He said Telugu is my clan. So what's my tribe, what town. I said I come from a city and it's well mixed up because it's a port town. He said if India did not exist what would I call myself. It took me a couple of seconds to recover and the conversation then continued separately in my head and in my words. In my words I said may be probably "Andhrite".I never say I m an Andhrite. I always tell people I m Indian. He then asked me what caste I am from. I told him that I refuse to answer. He said so that it meant I do not subscribe to it. If I did, would I be here? I just said no I don'

When I read Amitav Ghosh's writing, I realise why I read. For the love of reading and the art of story telling.  The story goes on and his stories are strong too. But it's the little detail here and a little extra there, that fills up your heart and makes you fall in love with the characters. He allows himself to follow the story with it's little stories woven around and within and through it. One of the accolades on the cover called him "Sheherazade". How true! The name has the same magic his writing seems to ebb and flow in. The Circle of Reason completes a circle on a man's love for reason and rationality that were inspired by the Life of Pasteur and fights many a fight with his weapons of reason and amusingly taking the form of carbolic acid. He passes on his passion to his nephew who takes it with him across countries and continents. And in unusual circumstances finds peace in the middle of a desert performing a ritual and winning a fight agains

I remember seeing a white tiger once in the zoo in Vizag. I never thought it was nice though. The shimmering golden skinned Royal Bengal tiger was more mesmerising, not white one. Against popular advice, I read the book by Aravind Adiga. I understand why people suggested I do not read it. It digs in hard to pull out the dirt of India. Or rather it tries to. The story in the 'darkness' of the Bihari village is a little made up. It is not really out right horrible or improbable but it tries hard to be horrible. I say it 'tries' because at some level it feels fake. Again, I'm not saying it's improbable; such stories do exist and even worse ones do. What I mean to say is that the author is not convincing enough. Like he is not sure how else to portray poverty. Like he doesn't really know it, feel it or even see it. Like he made up a story without living it and yet wrote the story from a first person point of view. So its like a man who is trying to paint

This is the first time I've read Haruki Murakami's work. after the quake is a collection of short stories with the Kobe quake in 1995 as the central character. Actually not, the quake is not central. It is omnipresent like a background setting but doesn't have a direct impact on any stories or characters. It is a brewing theme underneath the day to day life, and time and again it takes the form of simple emotions. It's a small book. Just a few stories. UFO in Kushiro - a man who lost his wife (she left him after the quake) finds out about a UFO sighting with similar consequences, and how to keep bears away. Landscape with Flatiron - a man left his family to light bonfires in a beach town waiting to die trapped in a refrigerator, and how a young woman loves bonfires. All God's children can dance - a man finds his father and in the dark dances because all god's children can dance. Thailand - a woman hates a man enough to wish him dead in the quake, a

(A first meeting conversation) Where are you from? India . Yes yes, where in India? I doubt you'd know. It's a beach town on the east coast. Visakhapatnam. Oh. I've actually been to India. Oh you did? Where about? Mostly north.  ... I don't like what they did to Mumbai. What do you mean? I don't like how the government threw everyone out. All the other cities in the world throw people out organically. London becomes expensive and people leave. But mumbai was built by throwing people out. It could have been more organised. *** (Not the first time. The rest of the discussion did indeed result in fair understanding of each other's point of view) I would most definitely support a woman. Over a man. Yes, if they are equally qualified. I believe a woman worked harder than a man to get to this equal position. Now that is discrimination. *** (A first meeting conversation) Calcutta is safe. As a woman I feel it's a safe place. People come to help yo

I got locked inside the worst place possible. Trash. My street has a room where you throw the trash bags in, and the trash is collected from there. This room has a combination lock. I have no idea why. What do people steal from trash, and why does it matter if they do? Anyhow it has a combination lock. I usually Just open the door and throw the bag over into the massive wheel barrow like vessel, usually already piled with other trash bags, all the while standing outside the room.Today this vessel was so filled up that if I threw the bag, it would roll back on to me. So I walked into the room to put it in the second empty vessel behind the first one. I put it in while the door closed behind me. I was locked. The door is the wooden design with horizontal slanting slits for ventilation. I googled it for an appropriate name for the design but could not find (I mean I googled it now, not when I was stuck inside). So I could get plenty of air and that was a good thing. But no one could see