The Silmarillion : A book review

It's been a while since I read a book non-stop, but I found myself home-alone, recovering from a stomach bug, and my youngest brother's copy of the Silmarillion lying ignored on the desk. Perfect conditions for a read-a-thon, which lasted for 14 hours! And happily took little effort, as J.R.R. Tolkien is one of my favourite authors.

For the uninitiated,the events of Silmarillion come before the Hobbit, before the Lord of the Rings, much before most of the characters of either book existed. And if you are so uninitiated that you haven't heard of any of them, well, then dont bother reading any further. For you are not one who can comprehend the world of fantasy, there where my mind often flees for solace and silence,to dabble in awe and wonder, and to leave the suffocating bonds of reality. Fantasy is my favourite genre by far, and this is my first fantasy book review, so do forgive me if I get carried away.

So back to the book. Tolkien is in a wonderful position at the start, for he has carte blanche.  Imagine writing a tale that takes place before the Big Bang occurred, before time or space as we know it existed. Such was the empty canvas upon which Tolkien painted his universe. So he describes a God, Iluvatar, and His vassals whose song creates out of the void, Midlle-earth as we know it. Some of these vassals, christened the Valar, enter Middle-earth to govern it and make it fit for the children of God, elves and men. Then one of the Valar decides that he wants to possess all Middle-earth for himself. Enter Melkor, aka Morgoth, the antagonist for the most part, and the book describes deeds that were done by the Elves in their war against him. For Melkor stole from the elves the Silmari, three perfect Jewels crafted by the elf Feanor, in whom is preserved the Light of the Two Trees created by the Valar. Feanor and his sons swear an oath to wage war on whoever possesses a Silmaril, for in them too the darkness of possession is awakened. Thus Feanor and his people turn their back on the Valar and embrace a dark path of war, destined to consume their kin, and come to Middle-earth, where Melkor has entrenched himself. 

The book goes on to tell many tales of valour, heroism, sacrifice and love, and just as many of deceit, betrayal and malice. For me, most moving of all were the tales of the fall of Fingolfin and the story of Beren and Luthien.

Fingolfin, half brother of Feanor, faced with certain defeat and possibly the obliteration of his race, challenges the Lord of darkness Morgoth to single combat. The venture, although hopeless (for Morgoth is one of the Valar, and Fingolfin, no matter how great, is an elf), showcases the bold and limitless self belief that the elves had in themselves, and armed mostly with this belief, and a love for the elves of whom he was King, Fingolfin fought, gave Morgoth seven wounds, cleaved off his leg, but fell in the end. 

The tale of Beren, a man, and Luthien the elf maiden almost made me cry at the end, hopeless romantic that I am. For theirs is THE epic amid all the many love stories in the book, and theirs was the first union between man and elf. Beren, in order to win the right to marry Luthien, does as her father asks and seeks to wrest a Silmaril from the clutches of Morgoth. In this he is assisted by Luthien herself, for she cannot bear to be apart from him. The two achieve the impossible, not once, but twice, for not only do they manage to escape Morgoth's fortress with a Silmaril, but Beren also comes back from the land of the dead, as the sorrow and love of Luthien moves even the hardest hearts of the Valar.

One of the recurring concepts in the book I really enjoyed reading was The Gift of Men, that is death and mortality, which is also spoken of as the Doom of Men. This Gift the God Iluvatar gave only the race of men; the elves he made immortal. Death, which we humans fear so often, becomes an objecct of wonder for the Elves, for it signified a freedom from the cycles of the world, which they had not been granted. For them it truly is a gift, but few mortals would look at it that way. How many of us can really think of death as a gift? Can we keep in  mind that our mortality should drive us to value every second, and make something beautiful of it. And isn't death, to the organised mind "the next great adventure"(Yes, I'm quoting Dumbledore, in a Tolkien book review)? If you, like me believe that the soul is eternal, its not that hard to see. Funnily though I don't think Tolkien believes in rebirth et al. For he does speak of a place where the souls of elves go after death, but never what happens to the souls of men, and never that any soul returns to be born again.

And so if you are a fantasy fan, and haven't read the Lord of the Rings yet, I strongly suggest you read the Silmarillion first. The stories are just as rich and the narrative just as enchanting (though the chapter on the children of Hurin seemed to drag a bit). It will fill some of the gaps that the reading of the Lord of the Riongs presents, for  in that book, the events of the Silmarillion are spoken of in the way we would speak about the Mahabharata, as myth and legend alone. If, like me, you have read the Lord of the Rings already, still I suggest that you go back and read the Silmarillion. I can promise you, at the very least, a lot of "Ah thats what he was talking about" moments.

Blood on our pages.. let's keep it there

So I started writing this post like a year ago, around the I re-read Harry Potter Book seven, and its been on cold storage ever since. I got a few more lines in (words actually) when I watched The Hobbit earlier this year, but what really got me writing was the Mahabharata; both the serial running on TV and the illustrated storybooks I've been reading. Kay sambandha? (Whats the connection?) read on..

Spoiler alert! Details about characters of LOTR, HP and  the Mahabharata are revealed below!

I took a generic and macroscopic view of how these series of books annoint their heroes. King Aragorn from the Lord Of The Rings, for instance, is a direct descendant of Isildur, one of the famous Dunedain, the men of Numenor. Harry Potter, on the other hand, is considered by his enemies as half blood by virtue of his Muggle born mother. Both seem to be portraying contrasting ideas of who qualifies as hero material. The LOTR  series does seem to lean towards the school of thought that the ancestry or blood of a man greatly affects his destiny. It mentions that the lineage of men began to fall when the Numenorians began to intermingle with men of lesser blood. The HP series however, stresses strongly on the choice that every man has in the making of his life. "It matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be", to quote Albus Dumbledore. Although it later emerges that Harry is descended from a very noble wizarding family, another of Rowling's lead characters, Hermione, is muggle born, without a hint of magical blood in her family tree, and showed that with sheer perseverance, and shrewd application, she could best most "pure blood" wizards.

Where does the Mahabharata come in? Most of you know that the Mahabharata is the culmination of an inheritance war between two families, the five Pandavas and the 100 Kauravas, who are first cousins. All kings who participated in this war were kings by descent, save one. Karna, the son of a charioter, and the king of Anga. He was annointed King courtesy his prowess with the bow, which matched even that of the Pandava prince Arjuna, the son of Indra, king of the Gods. It is one instance in the epic where a man of a lowly caste rises to be counted as a king based on his valour and skill, not his birth or blood.

But then much like Harry, Karna is also revealed to be the son of Surya, the Sun God, and older brother of the Pandavas. Is his prowess and skill too a product of his divine descent? 

Yet there is another hero in this tale who showed that even one without a noble birth can show glimpses of greatness. Eklavya, the son of a tribal leader, was turned away by Dronacharya, the arms instructor of the royal household, due to his low birth. Through an almost fanatical faith in Dronacharya, and despite his guru(teacher)'s absence, he became an archer par excellence,even better than Arjuna at that young age. Alas, he never got to his chance to shine. Had Dronacharya not sought his right thumb as Guru Dakshina (payment to ones teacher), he might have overshadowed even the sons of Indra and Surya.

One common ghost haunts  the paragraphs of most mythology and fantasy literature: Blood. And while it makes for fascinating reading, how much does blood count for today? (Not much, if the recent  general election in India is anything to go by.) "Blood always tells" is a phrase doled out easily enough while pointing out a flaw in a person, but not often remembered in times of his success. But should it be given so much due? 

Must we always blame Nature, or also count the role that Nurture plays in moulding a person, even our children and heroes. Accepting that Nurture plays a bigger role is often difficult, because it sets the blame (or the credit) of how the future turns out squarely in our own uncertain hands. The Nurture philosophy would suggest that free will is THE defining human quality. Free will, that lone true freedom that our Maker grants us. Free will is what separates us from animals, who act on instinct, that slave of blood. Free will is what makes us destiny's writers, not its children.

Perhaps it is best to leave this predilection and fascination with blood on the pages of our books. Perhaps the concept itself is age old, medieval, and should be consigned to the realms it adorns best: fantasy and mythology. Too many wars have been fought and too many lives maligned on the altar of blood.  

We live in a new day and age, where the strengths  of our arms craft our future, not the strength of our blood. To quote Albus Dumbledore again, "It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

5 things that help us see our true selves

In 2008, the spiritual organization I am a part of, issued the annual teaching for the youth titled, "Know Yourself." I figured that's pretty easy; after all I do spend all my time with myself, so to speak. So I was very self assured in the belief that I knew myself very well (and even more sure, that I was awesome.) The fact is that I had been pretending so much, for so long, that I genuinely believed my pretensions to be who I really was. Over the last few years life has showed me how deluded I was and disabused me of all such notions. (Mind you, I still think I am awesome, but in very different ways.) I learned, through observation or experience, that there are a  certain circumstances in life that give us a glimpse of our real selves. Here is my top 5 (in no particular order):

1. Competitive Sports:
All sports, by nature, require that we bare all on the field. While individual sports are a display of will power along with physical prowess, I find team sports are those that teach us most about ourselves. Do we take the responsibility of making up for the shortcomings of our teammates? Can we put in those dives in the field which aren't reflected on the scorecards? Are we unreservedly happy for the success of our teammates even when we aren't doing well ourselves? Are we aware of the effect our attitudes have on our dressing room? These situations do result in some soul searching, and the results surprise us, more often than not.

2. Confinement:
Put people together in a confined space for long enough, and eventually they will get tired of pretending and reveal their true colours. That's why reality shows like Big Boss grab so many eyeballs. While I don't like the system of using a person's private space to earn TRP's, I do find myself watching.  What we do when we are forced to live within four walls, sharing our space, tells us a lot about what were made of. Reading The Diary of a Young Girl was in many ways so much more compelling than a fiction novel.

3. Relationships:
It's all about how we treat people. People who matter to us, particularly those we interact with often, like a daily basis. Because  that familiarity is what makes us take them for granted, and we drop our polite facades and show a glimpse of whats behind the mask. Whether it's how we treat our coworkers or our partners, our actions towards them define us.

4. Tough times:
Points 1., 2., and 3 kind of dovetail into this one. Conflict; be it between the leaders of nations or the wills of individuals; and our thought and actions in times of conflict, lay bare who we truly are. I think that's why training periods are so severe in the armed forces. Because they mould soldiers into people who make the right choices in the worst of times. How many of us can keep our heads, hold our tongues, and stay our hands when our world is crashing down? There is no yes or no answer, we all succeed and fail to varying degrees everyday.

5. Friends:
You know what I mean. The real ones, not those pseudo-social followers. The people who we take for granted and don't need to pretend around and know us best. Ironically, they are also the ones who we tend to push away when they say something we don't like. Chuddy-buddies, schoolmates, parents, life partners, life coaches; they come in many avatars. They aren't afraid to tell us when we are toeing the line or even crossing it. Most people reading this are thinking about a few people like that in their life right now. And if you haven't met them yet, don't go looking. They find you. Can't make them, can't break them, can't buy them. Custom made, every last one of them. They  will show us the mirror when our faces turn ugly.  Then they'll put it down and look us in the eye and say,"doesn't change the fact that I love you."

Long walk to Freedom : A book review of Nelson Mandela's autobiography

A friend of mine what's-apped(if that's not a real word yet it will be soon) me a few days back, saying "Hey, how come you aren't writing anything nowadays! " And I said hey, that's 'coz I've been reading this huge history book! As you can see from the picture, its more of a  tome than a book. Considering that I only get to read while traveling in the trains, you can understand what took me so long. As my youngest brother said, Nelson Mandela's  'Long walk to freedom' is more like the long 'read' to freedom. 

The few autobiographies I have read tended to start slowly and build up as the protagonist got older. This one however, displayed a clear momentum right from the start. Maybe it was the weight of his persona and reputation bearing down on me; maybe because his recollections are so lucid and well constructed, but within the first hour of reading, I knew this was going to be a great book (and so did my mom and my other brother; and thus ensued a short family competition about who should read it first; which I won.)

A great book it was and is. Mandela has compiled his memoirs with the care that a master craftsman might devote to his work. His strength of character, clear and accurate memory and strong command of the written medium, allow his ideals and his prose to dovetail nicely into a seamless recollection. His writing enthralled me from the first chapter, and stirred in me revolutionary thoughts and ideas I didn't think I was capable of having. For example, it was while reading this book that I took up an initiative to demand more dustbins for the colony I live in (This may be just a coincidence, but then, I don't believe in them).

Mandela describes his upbringing, and how with age and exposure, the injustices the African people suffered slowly became more and more apparent.  The imbalance of power prevalent in South Africa rankled him, and along with many educated African youth of his generation, realised that the wrong that was apartheid must be righted. He wrote of "..the sense power that comes with having right and justice on one's side."

The struggle for equal rights defined him as a man. I was touched by his all consuming commitment, and awed by his logical and open mind. His cool and systematic manner, and professional training as a lawyer, rendered him an able debater and a visionary thinker. It was inspiring to see how holistic and inclusive his ideology always was, always looking for the common ground and while dealing with other people and organisations. His choices led him to sacrifice his time with family, livelihood and eventually, his freedom. After forsaking his legal practice and living the life of an outlaw for a considerable period, he was finally imprisoned, and thus began the darkest years of his life.

The names Nelson Mandela and Robben Island are almost as synonymous as Nelson Mandela and South Africa. Robben Island, the prison where he spent much of his 27 years of incarceration, was supposed to break his spirit, and that of his comrades. But, united with his fellow prisoners, he prevailed. Not only did he prevail, but he continued to oppose the system from within and held the same ideal of equal rights just as high, even though no one on the outside could see. For me, that was the defining moment in this book. To stand strong in the face of oppression while your people and the world are watching requires courage, but to stand just as strong when they cannot see you, requires infinite inner belief. He writes, "The campaign to improve conditions in prison was part of the apartheid struggle. It was, in that sense, all the same; we fought injustice wherever we found it, no matter how large or how small, and we fought injustice to preserve our own humanity."

It was astounding how he held on to not just his own humanity, but also to the belief in the humanity of his oppressors as well. He always asserted, that the oppressive system was the real enemy, and given an opportunity, the goodness in a man would always rise above the chains that bind and blind his heart.

All through this post I have tried my best to reproduce the strengths, solidarity and successes of this man's life. But there are greater pictures of pain, loneliness, and darkness painted through words on the pages of this book. None pained me more than the personal sacrifices that he had to make. Being  a leader and freedom fighter meant it was difficult for him to fulfill the obligations he owed his family. He writes, "In South Africa, a man who tried to fulfill his duty to his people was inevitably ripped from his family and his home and forced to live a life apart, a twilight existence of secrecy and rebellion."

In short, the book is an epic. It cannot be anything else, because the lives that Nelson Mandela, and so many freedom fighters, have lived, are incredible. Simply put, if you are a fan, nay, an admirer of Nelson Mandela, you must own this book. If you are not, you must read this book. There is no way you cannot be one at the end of it.

The diary of a young girl : Book review

So this is my first book review, and since I have never learned how to write one in school (something that needs to be added to our English syllabus), please forgive me if it doesn't follow the standard pattern.

Book review is a misleading title really ; it should be "flow of thought after reading so and so book". But I won't use that as I'm worried no one will pay this post any further attention if that's the title!

So to get down to it, I was browsing my company's library when I found this book in the autobiography section. I thought to myself," Snehal Pradhan, this is one of the classics and deserves the investment of time." A week later I was almost regretting my decision. At first, Anne Frank's entries in her diary seemed childish and trivial(which is understandable ;she was only 13). She began by describing her life as a Jew in Amsterdam, Holland, having fled her native Germany. At this point she and her family had not yet gone into hiding, and her depiction of her life in school and at home, although detailed and accurate, was rather mundane.

Then it did get interesting, as Anne described in great  detail, the circumstances that forced her family into their hiding place : The  Secret Annexe. With the help of an illustration, she described how her family of four, along with another family of three, led a furtive existence in a secret warehouse for the better part of World War II.

Her account chronicled some surprising aspects of a life in hiding. While I  expected that the residents  would be relieved  at being spared the fate of most other Jews, I found that frustration, depression  and boredom were the dominant emotions in their lives. Eating the same food for weeks, telling the same jokes at the table, looking at the same faces day in and day out, all took a toll on their state of mind. Truly, we can only appreciate the value of freedom when it is taken from us.

It was touching  and yet saddening  to see how much Anne relies on her diary, as a friend. Touching, because Anne pours her heart out to her diary( who she had christened "Kitty") like one would to one's best friend, and that is what her diary becomes for her. Saddening, because it points out how lonely she is, despite being surrounded by her immediate family.

Most of all, this book grew on me as I kept reading it. I mean really grew on me. As Anne grows, I could see that she really has a talent for writing, and her entries in the last one third of the book are a treat to read, displaying a maturity seldom seen in adults, let alone adolescents. She painted clear pictures of her  interpersonal relationships within the Annexe; from her own strained relationship with her mother, to her feelings of attachment and affection for her fellow residents. She never held back while accounting the faults of people around her, but showed the same brutal honesty while looking at herself as well. Even surrounded by the clouds of war, she could still find peace of mind and beauty in a brief moment of contact with nature.

I was amazed by the strength of character and deep self-knowledge the fifteen-year-old Anne had. She was very clear about who she was, all the good and bad included, but would not resign herself to being just that and tried to change herself where she saw fit. She had her own opinions, and was not afraid of expressing them. She had an independent identity, and dreams and hopes too. If Anne had survived the war, I'm sure she would have become a person who strongly influenced her peers. The more I read, the more attached I got to Anne, which gave me a sense of foreboding, as I knew how her story ended, and dreaded reaching the page which would contain her last entries.

Anne's account of her life in such closed quarters made one fact clear to me :being cooped up is a sure way to expose our true character, whether we like it or not. It's like living in a circular room with no corners, nowhere to hide our true selves. What I admire most about Anne, is that she made no attempt to hide her inner nature behind a facade of civility or falsehood. It's probably partly due to the fact that she was a child and had not gained the inhibitions that come with age, but mostly it's because she isn't the type to hide in the first place. And that's why I will always look up to Anne Frank. Her diary will command a permanent place on my bookshelf, so I can revisit her memories for inspiration whenever I may feel the need for it.

Right way around?

To begin with let me issue an advisory : I am not an expert!  While most of my previous blogs on sports-slash-cricket have been introspective or contemplative, this one leans toward suggestive. However, this post is purely a figment of my own opinion and observations, and it's inspiration includes my coaches, teammates and friends.

Ever wonder how the number of cricketers who bowl right handed but bat left handed seems to increase? There are a number of examples in the international cricket community, across country lines. Names like Stuart Broad and Saurav Ganguly come to mind. (The reverse also seems true, as Michael Clarke's highly underestimated bowling arm indicates.) So much so, that this trend seems headed towards becoming the rule rather than the exception. And this points to a (not-so)new school of coaching, that is churning out these seemingly ambidextrous skills, creating more "hybrid-handed" cricketers.

Some coaches might cry foul here, pointing out that they usually encourage whatever their pupils naturally  choose. Fair enough, but are we asking the right questions?

Traditionally, a right handed stance means that our left hand is the top hand and our right hand is below it. One of the first things that happen in coaching is that the bat is placed on the ground in front of the pupil,with the toe facing away, and he (or she;we ladies play cricket too, but for the sake of simplicity I will henceforth use "him")  is asked to pick it up. This means that on picking up the bat, tho toe usually points upwards. This in turn naturally demands a grip in which our dominant hand is closer to the blade, to stabilise it against gravity; similar to the way one would hold up a sword, with our strong hand close to the hilt. Here, I believe lies the turning point. While a sword is always held with it's point against gravity, a bat is usually used in the direction of gravity, with its toe pointing down. In this case, a grip which places our strong hand farthest from the toe is more suitable, as this creates the longer lever, thus more bat speed.

This also makes more sense technically, as for all vertical bat shots, the top hand gives direction and control. Isn't it easier to use the hand that is already our strong hand as the top hand. It would solve a problem coaches continually moan about; that of over using the bottom hand while driving.

Perhaps when we hand the bat to a pupil, we could hold it out to him with the toe pointing down. Then, reaching for it with his strong hand may naturally nudge him toward a stance that will seem to be the opposite to what we traditionally expect(left handed for right handers), but which when you think about it, is more natural.

The advantages to this approach will not be lost on anyone who has played the game. In a sea of ubiquitous right-handed batters(I prefer using this term borrowed from baseball as it is more gender-inclusive), a southpaw poses a challenge for a bowler. It involves a change of line, angle, field and strategy; all of which are headaches any bowler would rather avoid. This very fact is the reason why most teams at all levels employ right hand-left hand opening combinations. Even purely left handed opening combinations, which don't invoke a constant change of line for the bowler, are often more successful than pure right-handed pairs, Matthew Hayden and Justin Langer being the most successful example.

Perhaps this very logic is the reason why a number of  international teams seem to have an equal distribution of right and left handed batters(which, when you think about it, is odd, as the distribution of left handers in human population is only 10 to 30%).

Judging by the number of southpaws in many international sides, I'd say this approach is already popular with many coaches. Just as parents take life changing decisions for their wards, coaches may be coaxing  young children to go against their traditional stance in favour of a "hybrid" stance. And I see nothing wrong with this, if it equips a player with an edge in the extremely competitive cricket environment.

Which approach is better?  Is it fair to young kids playing the game to ask them to change? Will we see a day when left handed batters are more common?  And if so, well that negate their advantage? Fellow players, coaches, friends, aficionados : weigh in with what you think about this. Enter your comments below! This debate is hereby declared open!

What's your frequency?

Okay, I am a self confessed fan of getting a good deal. I love shopping off the streets, and more often than not I get good value for money. One item I always buy off the streets, is headphones for my mp3 player. And mostly I've been pretty lucky, getting good sound quality and longevity, the latter of which is usually tricky with " china maal " ( chale to chaand tak, nahi to raat tak )! But off late I have observed a disconcerting pattern with regards to the point at which these headphones stop working. It seems every time someone notices these headphones and I describe how very clear the sound is and what a steal they were, and so on, they malfunction soon after! Initially I thought nothing of it, and dismissed the observation as random ( I will refrain from using the word coincidence, as I dont believe they exist ). But when this happened three times in a row, I had to sit up and take notice! What exactly was going on here? I was almost as if mere pyare se headphones ko najar lag rahi thi! 

Admittedly I never put much faith in this " evil eye " concept. I do however, subscribe to the concept of vibrations and can attest to their power. I have been associated with an organisation dedicated to improving the spiritual quality of people's lives for a long time now, and this connection has cemented my belief that we are influenced by so many unseen vibrations. But this was the first time I connected these two not-really-so-far-apart ideas. I realised that protecting what's precious to us from unfriendly eyes, by putting a tika or nimbu mirchi etc is something  seen across religions and cultures in the sub continent; and is nothing more than the smallest attempt to shield us from harmful vibrations.

I believe that what goes around come comes around. Not just in terms of our actions or our karma, but also our thoughts. Einstein said,"Everything is energy; that's all there is to it. Match the frequency of the reality you want and you cannot but help get that reality. It can be no other way. This is not philosophy. This is physics ."  ( Disclaimer : I picked up this quote from a Facebook post, so I am not sure about its authenticity; though I can totally imagine him saying something like this ).

So what does this mean in my case? Did I invite the demise of my headphones by waxing eloquently about how wonderful they are? I don't know. Was God telling me that I should appreciate my possessions, and everything in my life, while I have them, for all is uncertain? Perhaps. Its food for thought, and maybe its just to make me more aware of the vibrations I am sending out each second; as these are alive and potent and directly affect me and the people around me.

What vibrations are we sending out right now? Which ones are we tuning into? Will they affect the next pair of headphones I buy? More food for thought. Here's to rumination..