115 degrees, 2003, Ahmedabad
Crosswords
Unconnectedness means that I'm reading by the foot (if you don't get the reference, I wouldn't worry about it, and neither should you.) I just finished Poisonwood Bible - by Barbara Kingsolver. Spectacular. Bought a bunch of books from Crosswords, including a couple of collections of short-stories -- now that I am of the short-fiction bent of mind. BTW, the collection at Crosswords was very impressive. Tons of Indian authors writing in English, the usual Grisham, Jeffery Archer, Ken Follet shelves, PG Woodehouse collections, books on atrocities on Hindus in Bangladesh and elsewhere, Life of Pi, Steinbeck, Italo Calvino (even an Italo Calvino bookmark), the immortal Anurag Mathur and so on. Incidentally, I'm also reading "Penguin's Collection of Indian Travel Stories" (or something like that), plushed recently. It has some very well-written pieces of eras by-gone (you know, idyllic Bombay of the 60s, of promenades and happy, rich families with candy-sucking children etc. etc.) and equally well-written timely pieces (on xenophobia in Cherrapunji, the Kutch that was, before the earthquake, an incredible piece called "The City of Widows", on Vrindavan, UP, written by the guy who wrote City of Djinns, I forget his name.)
Gujarati Literature
I have also been reading Gujarati literature. I know, surprise, surprise. It's actually coming quite easily to me. All those years of Gujarati-tuitions from my PE teacher, finally paid off. Maybe a Hindi-Gujarati combined vocabulary does the trick. Anyway, so far, I've been from an anthology of Gujarati essays written in the latter half of the 20th century, which includes works by my great grandfather Kaka Kalelkar (or, Acharya Shri Kakasaheb Kalelkar ;) and my grandmother Vinodinee Neelkanth. My goal is to read creative short fiction by my grandmother or maybe some of the longer works by my other great grandfather Sir Ramanbhai Neelkanth ("Rai no parvat") and translate them into English. Maybe I'll read the recently (and posthumously) published "Kadleevan" by my grandmother, which is reputed to be the first novel written in Gujarati by a woman author.
Incidentally, the standard of reporting in the Gujarati-language newspapers is apalling, and approaches that of tabloids.
The pools here are spectacular (as they always have been -- but I never had the appreciation for a clean, warm, 18-ft deep pool of the crystalest blue before.) My swimming is improving, but mostly because I sprained my ankle playing Basketball.
Repertoire Theatre
Saw a MOST amazing play in Gujarati called "Dost, Ahin Chokkas Aik Shaher Vastu Hatu" -- which lossely translates to "Friend, there was definitely a city here..." It was an "experimental" play at Mallika Sarabhai-run "Natrani" (see note on etymology below) at the Darpan Academy. The play, the production, the acting, was bar-none! And I thought I could come to Ahmedabad with some ill-formed notions of infusing a culture of socially-conscious "performance poetry" here! Ha. I'll get concrete details about the play (eg. play-wright etc.), but the plot lines are: Two young archeologists from the distant future excavate what turns out to be Ahmedabad. They want to discern the cause of the city's demise. They bring to life a character that happens to be "Nehru Bridge" that connects the Eastern and Western parts of the city, and looks on as one side of the city burns, while the other celebrates. It had elements of Greek tragedies, with choruses and refrains, had some incredibly done musical pieces (a capella, harmony!), some vividly brought-to-life market scenes, some incredibly graphic in-your-face scenes of violence, some incredible metaphors for the perpetrators, and just a sheer "tour de force" (?!) by way of the best of Gujarati play-writing. The theatre was a small repertoire amphitheatre on the banks of the Sabarmati. Just amazing.
Lesson in Etymology
Natraja -- is another word for Shiva when he does his terrible "Dance of Death". Thence, Natrani. Get it? Raja. Rani. King. Queen.
My McDonald's Basket: PPP
Okay, none of this is economically sound, but just to give you an idea of prices in India: A "chuttak" maid-servant charges about Rs. 900 ($18) per month, do dust, sweep and wipe your floors, clean your clothes, and wash the dishes. A mason earns about Rs. 120 ($2.4) per day, while an unskilled laborer earns half that. A loaf of brown bread costs Rs. 20 ($.40). A movie ticket at one of the city's spectacular (and thoroughly western) multiplexes costs roughly Rs. 100 ($2). An entree at what is considered an expensive restaurant is about Rs. 200 ($4). By contrast, an entree at Bombay's very hep (but so-so) Indigo (Italifan fare) was about Rs. 400 ($8.) And so on. Next time: commentary on the culture of tax-evasion, and corruption.
Narmada
Today's headlines read: "Narmada water reaches Kutch". And that Medha Patkar will have to find a new cause. All I can vouch-for, is that the Sabarmati is full, bank-to-bank. Meanwhile, I hope the characters from Franny Armstrong's "Drowned Out", did not drown. I hope they are not forgotten, those who cannot leave and will not swim.
Crosswords
Unconnectedness means that I'm reading by the foot (if you don't get the reference, I wouldn't worry about it, and neither should you.) I just finished Poisonwood Bible - by Barbara Kingsolver. Spectacular. Bought a bunch of books from Crosswords, including a couple of collections of short-stories -- now that I am of the short-fiction bent of mind. BTW, the collection at Crosswords was very impressive. Tons of Indian authors writing in English, the usual Grisham, Jeffery Archer, Ken Follet shelves, PG Woodehouse collections, books on atrocities on Hindus in Bangladesh and elsewhere, Life of Pi, Steinbeck, Italo Calvino (even an Italo Calvino bookmark), the immortal Anurag Mathur and so on. Incidentally, I'm also reading "Penguin's Collection of Indian Travel Stories" (or something like that), plushed recently. It has some very well-written pieces of eras by-gone (you know, idyllic Bombay of the 60s, of promenades and happy, rich families with candy-sucking children etc. etc.) and equally well-written timely pieces (on xenophobia in Cherrapunji, the Kutch that was, before the earthquake, an incredible piece called "The City of Widows", on Vrindavan, UP, written by the guy who wrote City of Djinns, I forget his name.)
Gujarati Literature
I have also been reading Gujarati literature. I know, surprise, surprise. It's actually coming quite easily to me. All those years of Gujarati-tuitions from my PE teacher, finally paid off. Maybe a Hindi-Gujarati combined vocabulary does the trick. Anyway, so far, I've been from an anthology of Gujarati essays written in the latter half of the 20th century, which includes works by my great grandfather Kaka Kalelkar (or, Acharya Shri Kakasaheb Kalelkar ;) and my grandmother Vinodinee Neelkanth. My goal is to read creative short fiction by my grandmother or maybe some of the longer works by my other great grandfather Sir Ramanbhai Neelkanth ("Rai no parvat") and translate them into English. Maybe I'll read the recently (and posthumously) published "Kadleevan" by my grandmother, which is reputed to be the first novel written in Gujarati by a woman author.
Incidentally, the standard of reporting in the Gujarati-language newspapers is apalling, and approaches that of tabloids.
The pools here are spectacular (as they always have been -- but I never had the appreciation for a clean, warm, 18-ft deep pool of the crystalest blue before.) My swimming is improving, but mostly because I sprained my ankle playing Basketball.
Repertoire Theatre
Saw a MOST amazing play in Gujarati called "Dost, Ahin Chokkas Aik Shaher Vastu Hatu" -- which lossely translates to "Friend, there was definitely a city here..." It was an "experimental" play at Mallika Sarabhai-run "Natrani" (see note on etymology below) at the Darpan Academy. The play, the production, the acting, was bar-none! And I thought I could come to Ahmedabad with some ill-formed notions of infusing a culture of socially-conscious "performance poetry" here! Ha. I'll get concrete details about the play (eg. play-wright etc.), but the plot lines are: Two young archeologists from the distant future excavate what turns out to be Ahmedabad. They want to discern the cause of the city's demise. They bring to life a character that happens to be "Nehru Bridge" that connects the Eastern and Western parts of the city, and looks on as one side of the city burns, while the other celebrates. It had elements of Greek tragedies, with choruses and refrains, had some incredibly done musical pieces (a capella, harmony!), some vividly brought-to-life market scenes, some incredibly graphic in-your-face scenes of violence, some incredible metaphors for the perpetrators, and just a sheer "tour de force" (?!) by way of the best of Gujarati play-writing. The theatre was a small repertoire amphitheatre on the banks of the Sabarmati. Just amazing.
Lesson in Etymology
Natraja -- is another word for Shiva when he does his terrible "Dance of Death". Thence, Natrani. Get it? Raja. Rani. King. Queen.
My McDonald's Basket: PPP
Okay, none of this is economically sound, but just to give you an idea of prices in India: A "chuttak" maid-servant charges about Rs. 900 ($18) per month, do dust, sweep and wipe your floors, clean your clothes, and wash the dishes. A mason earns about Rs. 120 ($2.4) per day, while an unskilled laborer earns half that. A loaf of brown bread costs Rs. 20 ($.40). A movie ticket at one of the city's spectacular (and thoroughly western) multiplexes costs roughly Rs. 100 ($2). An entree at what is considered an expensive restaurant is about Rs. 200 ($4). By contrast, an entree at Bombay's very hep (but so-so) Indigo (Italifan fare) was about Rs. 400 ($8.) And so on. Next time: commentary on the culture of tax-evasion, and corruption.
Narmada
Today's headlines read: "Narmada water reaches Kutch". And that Medha Patkar will have to find a new cause. All I can vouch-for, is that the Sabarmati is full, bank-to-bank. Meanwhile, I hope the characters from Franny Armstrong's "Drowned Out", did not drown. I hope they are not forgotten, those who cannot leave and will not swim.
posted at 4:49 AM
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