The One That Started It All

                                                      

Last month a lot of people on Facebook shared their favourite books. As per the rule, one was supposed to share the names of only 10 books, but you know how it can be with books. Narrowing down the number of just 10 can be really really tricky. So, when I was tagged by a friend to share my list, the torture of choosing just 10 got the better of me and I did the next best thing. I didn’t participate in this tag game. Like always there was a bunch of sourpusses who dissed the whole thing, saying that people Googled the best book and listed them out. Whatever the case was, it was good to see people talking about books for once instead of some other random event or human being who don’t affect our lives even minutely.

Anyway, I started making a list before I gave up. The whole exercise was excruciating in a way as I was juggling the list of favourite books in my mind. Some names got replaced every time I made a list but one book retained its place each and every single time, remaining the first name on the list. And it was the very first novel I had read. "Dr Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde". I still remember the day when it came into my life. 21st April. It was my birthday. I lived in a small town, in a close-knit community. Before going to a birthday party, everybody discussed which presents to take for the birthday girl/boy so that there were no repeated gifts. How thoughtful right! Even the store owner knew which gift was taken by whom. I guess it was my 9^th birthday. Like any other 9 year old girl I was expecting some exciting gifts. Something no one ever gave me before. And that wish came true when this one guy gave decided to give me a novel because ‘all other gifts were taken’. I remember being extremely disappointed and angry at him. I mean how could he give me something that kept me confined to one spot and I actually had to make an effort to read! I did that in school..why would I want to do at home. Don’t get me wrong, I liked reading but I was more into comics and short stories rather than a full fledged novel. Nevertheless, I was angry and I shoved the book into some corner of my bookshelf. It saw the day of light when one unforgiving summer afternoon forced all us to stay indoors. After all, it was the only way you could survive. (Seriously, the heat could have easily melt or evaporate anyone. Well at least the 9 year old me thought so). I decided to look for a comic to re-read when I saw this novel. I saw it a lot of times whenever I spent some time with my bookshelf and I never paid attention to it. But this time, it almost seemed like it was screaming at me to pick it up. I was sceptical but I did pick it up. I thought, if I had to be confined to one place and read, I might as well read something new. What’s the worst that could happen? I would lose a few hours of my life. Not that I was bothered about this issue back then. I turned the first page. Then the next one. And another. Another. And I got up after the last page was turned. Between a few hundred pages that lay between the first and last one, I found a new world. A world which I refused to leave since.

That birthday I was given the greatest gift. It gave me the ability to step into different worlds that were fantastical, scary, happy and sad, all at once. I could step into different dimensions, slip into the shoes of a million characters and feel a multitude of emotions. All sitting in the same place! And I thought books confined you to just one place! Heights of naivety I’d say. I guess that moment when I felt this power of transporting to new, imaginary yet such believable worlds was the most exciting moment in the 9 years of my life. It was almost surreal. I remember that story so well, even after 17 years of reading it. I was just blown away by how story-telling can be so damn absorbing. I was in awe. I fell in love that day. I fell in love with a book. I fell in love with reading. I fell in love with the art of story-telling. Today, it is such a big part of my life. Rather, it found a way to weave my life around it.

They say that the first of anything is special and this was my first novel ever. No book can ever take away its importance and its significance. Since that day, I believed that every book enters your life when it is supposed to. So, the next time people judge you if you haven't read some particular classic or if you cannot pick up a book that’s being lying around your home around since ages, it’s OK. The time is not right. Maybe you won’t get the story or relate to it or find it unexciting. Wait for the right and the book will become a big part of your life. Permanently. You will know when to start reading it. If you love books the way I do, they communicate with you in their own way and you will understand them. You will know when to pick up a certain book. Maybe if I read the novel as soon as I got, I wouldn't it have enjoyed. Maybe it wouldn't have changed my life. Or maybe it would have. But I know one thing for sure. I picked it up when it wanted me to and it showed me a way. Even though it came in my life in April, it wasn’t until June that I started reading. And till this day, that June has been a life-changing month for me. Is this my favourite novel of all times? Probably not. Is this the one that changed my life? Hell yes.

So, thank you, Robert Louis Stevenson for writing it. Thank you A, Mr. and Mrs T. for picking it up and thank god for finishing off all the ‘good gifts’. Otherwise they couldn't have gifted me the novel. A, I’m sure you don’t remember this birthday because it was eons ago and I'm pretty sure you don't even remember me. But wherever you are, know that you gifted me a lifetime of joy that accompanies reading. If someone ever asks me again, which was the one book that changed my life, I know my answer. It was the very first novel I read, the one that started it all.

Which was that book for you?

The Kite Runner -- Khaled Hosseini

After ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns (ATSS)’, when I picked this up, I was reluctant to begin it. Not because I doubted that it wouldn’t be a good read, but because the effect ATSS had on me was still fresh. I could still feel the pangs of pain that book gave me, and I wasn’t ready to go through that again (Yea, go on, call me mushy or childish or unreasonable!), but I guess some of out there know what I mean. I just procrastinated reading it. And once I picked it up, I finished reading it in one go. Khaled’s first attempt as an author was an exceptional one. Not a fragment of doubt about that!

Amir and Hassan were two little boys who grew up together in a then trouble free Afghanistan. Their daily routine consisted of any regular boy. Playing, reading, playing, eating, playing and sleeping. But there was a hierarchy which sort of separated them. Amir was the master’s son and Hassan was the servant’s son and above all they belonged to different caste. No points for guessing that Amir was of the superior one and Hassan of a lower one. Their playtime and time together was punctuated by Amir doing his school work and Hassan doing the household chores. They shared an unusual bond. There were almost like brothers but something created an invisible rift between them, with Amir completely conscious of that rift whereas it hardly mattered to Hassan. Although they grew up together, they had qualities as different as opposite poles. Amir was more of a coward sadistic (at times) and selfish whereas Hassan, younger of both was the brave one and an epitome of a loyal friend and selflessness. These qualities formed the foundation for the entire story.

Growing up without a mother, Amir yearned for his father’s attention. He did whatever possible to get his father’s affection but little did he know that the father was dealing with his own demons. Hassan on other hand, also motherless, was happy and satisfied with whatever little he had and had no complaints. He selflessly, along with his father served Amir’s family and always stood up for his friend. And then came the ill-fated evening. The very qualities which outlined each boy till then outlined their entire life they had ahead of them. A moment of cowardice and selfishness started turmoil within Amir which stayed with him for almost two decades. Hassan, who bore the brunt of that ominous evening, tried to look beyond the evening, beyond Amir’s lack of guts and character and lived on with his life. That evening moulded the boys’ life henceforth and forever snapped the bond they shared. It separated them. Guilt, regret and questions stayed their companions. Amir moved to a different country and hoped that it would help him erase his shortcomings, mistakes and for a while that plan seemed to be working. Till a phone call which proved to be another turning point in his physically calm but emotionally turbulent life. The call diverted him back to his birth country and the truths that unravelled there proved too much to handle. What was it that made the coward Amir finally stand up and fight? Did he redeem himself of all the wrongs and finally lead a guilt-free, unburdened life is what you folks need to read and find out.

It is a beautiful story of friendship, betrayal, lost innocence and childhood and a child’s yearnings for affection, friendship and redemption. The loyalty portrayed by Khaled through Hassan almost seems unreal in today’s world, when people are getting more and more selfish and greedy with each passing day. While Amir portrays a dollop of the raw reality, Hassan is that slice of fantasy that people would wish for. This story proves that one moment is enough to alter a person’s entire life and there are some skeletons which just can’t be hidden in closets. They knock till they are dealt with. So sometimes, one just has to pull up their socks, gather the courage and face those demons because there’s no other option other than that. There are heart-wrenching moments and again, they are difficult to shake off. This book has a little more drama and is less heavy read compared to ATSS , but the as expected from Khaled, a beautiful tragedy was created. At some level, all of us would identify with Amir (loathing him at certain instances) and wish for a friend like Hassan and be like him. This is a book that’s worthy of being hailed as benchmark for ‘the most amazing friendship story’.

I saw the movie of the same a few days. Did it have all the scenarios mentioned in the book? Yes. Did it have the same effect as the book/were the emotions portrayed well? A big No. The incidents which felt me utterly sad or had the deepest impact when reading the book, left me with a ‘bleh’ when I saw the movie. So, while the book is totally unavoidable, the movie is better avoided.

 There is a line in the book which says that tragedies make good stories. Weirdly true in this case as this very line proves to be cent percent true for this story. This book will somehow manage to come back to you time and again, maybe when you see two little boys playing, or when colourful kites fill the sky or just when you see two friends who share something very strong yet fragile. If you haven’t read this book, don’t procrastinate like me. Just pick it up now and start reading.

Snow - By Orhan Pamuk

                                                                               

The words 'Nobel Prize in Literature' can lure any person to pick up a certain book, irrespective whether you've heard the author's name or not!! I can use the same excuse to explain why i picked up this book. as you know that curiosity always kills me and the rebellious streak overpowers each time, I bought the book in spite of knowing it's not my area of interest. In spite of seeing the words ‘politics’!! That too of turkey. (Oh lord. What the hell was I thinking) I’m still trying to figure out how our political system is intact in spite of the nonsensical antics one witness everyday. Just for the

attempt of trying to understand how Turkey politics go about,I honestly deserve a pat on my back. Nevertheless, I pulled up my socks to experience what was called as ' brilliant work of literature' and then almost fell flat on my face experiencing it.

The title of the novel interestingly has pun in it. 'Snow' is based upon a forgotten city in Turkey named Kars. ‘Kar' in Turkish means Snow. What started as a story with a simple storyline ends badly entangled that it will leave the reader scratching his head. The forgotten city has a visitor, an equally infamous poet, Kerim Alakusoglu, conveniently abbreviated as Ka by the poet himself. Ka returns to Turkey after spending a good 12 years in Germany, to perform the last rites of his beloved mother and also he was given the job, by some newspaper to cover the increasing number of suicide cases amongst the women of Kars. This was just an excuse to visit Kars. The real reason why he braved the relentless snowfall and got into the last bus to Kars in spite of the danger looming ahead was because of the burning desire to see a girl, Ipek, from his college whom he loved, with the hope that his unrequited love finally blossoms into nothing less than a blissful marriage. After he arrives in the city all the roads had to be closed because of the heavy snow and he is confined to the poverty, sadness, horror, sufferings that defines the city. Oh also can't forget the tumultuous love he shared with Ipek. And then starts the so-called exciting and eventful 3-days in Kars and our story. (Sigh)

He commences his arrival by checking in the hotel which Ipek owns. He goes on to interview the families of the 'suicide girls'. Then he goes through the horror of witnessing the assassination of the Education director, encounters a terrorist, attends a play that ends with people actually dying, gets stuck in a so-called revolutionary movement which was triggered by, a theatre artist of all the people(!!) and in the end becomes a mediator between two self-proclaimed revolutionaries/terrorists. He is surprised to learn that the suicides are being committed because the girls are being told NOT to wear the headscarf, which goes against the holy teachings of Islam. The girls, being crushed between having to choose from faith or law, found it easier to kill themselves. The way they committed suicide (another sin according to Islam but still women seemed to prefer that rather than just live without headscarf!) is very disturbing. It was always almost sudden. They would commit the heinous crime with the same ease as they did their daily chores. The Education director was assassinated for following the law, which stated that no head-scarfed girls would be admitted. Ka also meets many influential and powerful people who have a great impact on the events that took place in his 3 super interesting days. The character I found most amusing was Serdar Bey, the city newspaper editor who writes and prints all the stories 1 day prior to the actual occurrence and waits for them to come true (which surprisingly always happens). It was funny that amidst all this horror and confusion, our drought stricken poet is suddenly flooded with poems. He surprisingly finds inspiration to write poems after a 4-year hiatus when he was caught in dire circumstances. The seclusion and sadness gets onto him (and onto us as well) so much that he felt God within him and confesses that he heard poems and he was just a mediator of the higher source who was telling these poems through him. This was ironic as he is an atheist. The readers only come across the titles of all his 18 poems. Probably if some poems were present it would have been an interesting read atleast!! And another thing which baffled me was why the people of Kars detested 'Western' so much. They even disliked Ka because he stayed in Germany (read: western nation). The line "I am proud of the part of me that isn’t European, I am proud of things in that the Europeans find childish, cruel and primitive. If the Europeans are beautiful, I want to be ugly; if they are intelligent, I prefer to be stupid; if they are modern let me stay simple" clearly conveys that the Turks prefer staying as destitutes,jobless,zombies but they wouldn't entertain anything western even if they end up having a better life! And yea the people of Kars don't want the readers to feel sorry for them or sympathise or pity them. (And here Indians are aping the west like maniacs with the belief that they will live a better life. Told ya..never understood politics..) By the way that's all for the story. Don't worry I didn’t kill any surprise or mystery of the book because it doesn’t have any.

One person made his presence felt throughout the book. The narrator. The narrator, Orhan (who coincidentally is also the author :P ) claims to write this novel after he found Ka's notes in his apartment after Ka’s death. The narration gets annoying when he gives away the climax to a particular event and after revealing the end he, at a snail's pace describes minute details of the same event, from square one. That is why I said there are zilch surprises in the book. I mean why would you want to read about something whose end you already known. Eg. "His beautiful green eyes, one of which would be shattered by a bullet in 47 minutes, stared intently at Ka.” After this sentence there is a long description of how he died. Which is no fun to read as you already know he dies! The book gets painfully slow a read to even enjoy it. And then suddenly Orhan throws in a chapter, which shows a scene 4 years henceforth.(which again gives away the entire story. i thought this might be the right time to just stop reading. but I still carried on thinking things would change). The reader again gets perked up to know why and how it happened.  Once again you fall flat on the face because after reading the entire book that 'why' is not answered. Disappointment. The only part where the readers may 'kind of' enjoy is when they watch Ka falling in love with Ipek...and with her equally beautiful sister, Kadife. Orhan brought out 2 characters that were almost alike each other but also differed, like Ipek and Kadife, Necip & Fazil, Blue and Sunay. But instead of making things clearer with the inclusion of so many characters, the readers are left confused as their similarities and differences are blaringly loud but of no use. The already disappointed reader gets all the more irritated when Orhan gets distracted and starts of telling his own story instead of Ka's. This book is a good read for people who are into politics and all that drama. For people expecting a fast paced, exciting thriller it will be a disappointment. Inspite of the beautiful writing and storytelling (and being painfully slow), something is missing. Many ‘where-is-the-dictionary’ moments will also come across (here it is proved why he got Nobel Prize for Literature!!). The best part of his writing is the scene which describes how the inspiration to write poetry again struck him. If not the book, just read that paragraph. It’s beautifully written and totally worth a read (get back to me for page nos. :) )

In the end it's the story of an unimportant man, writing unimportant poems, and dying a meaningless death. I thought maybe it’ll be better if made into a movie, then the world would have to bear the turn-off for just 2 hours, or at the most 3...;-)