Book review - Farenheit 451

My favourite category of novels is the dystopian variety. There is nothing like the exaggeration of an idea of governance or rule into how it would be in the future if it were let to have its way without being checked. More importantly what always draws me to dystopian novels are the writers responses to such a world as described through the action of their protagonists. Take any dystopian piece of work  - "V for Vendetta, 1984, A brave new world, Farenheit 451 in books, "The book of Eli, Wall-E, Elysium in movies - the protagonist is portrayed as identifying the problem with the world through their experiences and thoughts which are nothing but the thoughts of the writers. How the writer would react to such a world is the best part of it all - one cant but begin to think how one would react if they were in that place at that time.

This category of novels opens ones mind to how much a form of governance can impact someones life. While we sit in a democracy whose direct negative impact in our lives is negligible, we do not realize the gravity of how much a totalitarian regime can impact us. While we sit and complain about how a democracy is not efficient we do not understand the alternatives to a democracy (which many do not know exist, because we in most countries have always been gifted with democracy) can mean horrors beyond our wildest imaginations. Dystopian novels, through personal travails of its characters, educates one of how all that we enjoy and take for granted has had to be fought for in a lot of geographies and times and continues to be inaccessible to a large part of the world even today.

Farenheit 451 - the name of the book in itself was enigmatic, what could this possibly mean. In dramatic style the mystery unfolds as you open the book. There is a single line that explains that the temperature at which paper begins to burn is 451 degree Farenheit and that is what the title refers to. A fitting title, as one would see when they read the book. Farenheit 451 is the story of a fireman of the future - Guy Montag. He is the man who is enlisted in times of calamities in a Dystopian world, to put out a threat so dangerous that it could destabilize an otherwise manufactured happy world. He along with his fellow firemen are the ones who are called on to do the honorable job of burning away books when they are intimated of the location of the books. Along with the books, the house that gives them residence shall burn too and the owner of the trash would be incarcerated.

Guy lives a perfectly "happy" life working in the fire department. His wife is a happy go lucky woman who lives with her "family" that lives with her through the 3 screens that adorn their parlour at home. Guy had to invest 3 months of his salary for the 3rd screen and she was already asking for a fourth screen to complete the juggernaut, to be away from him for good. The protagonist has a hunch that there is something wrong with the way things are in the world and the thought is in his head, but nothing much else is happening in Guys world.

One night Guy, on his way back home, runs into a young eccentric girl who spends a few minutes talking to him. They have a wonderful conversation that discreetly places the idea of a not so ideal, but free world outside of the one they currently dwelt in. The girl refers to a time when firemen put out fires rather than starting them. She says she has a uncle who talks about old times when things were different and how he kept running into the law for all his ideas. Guy then walks home to find his wife on the bed after having gulped an entire bottle of sleeping pills. A team of two arrives and saves her. We get to understand that the team has a lot more cases to attend to and this is a normal affair in the world of that time - a side effect of the system perhaps, the author leaves it to us to decipher.

As the idea that has placed itself firmly in Guys mind he is called upon to a house that needs firefighting. He attends the call of duty and is witness to a scene that is the final push into an internal revolution. in his mind.

The rest of the story goes into the scenes of how Guy takes on the system in his own way and how he is aided by an old professor who is a dissenter, albeit a covert one.

The story ends with a view of the world in which all this is happening coming to an end. The ending gives the reader hope and points out how much the written word can impact our lives.

It's a brilliant read, a very small book, but immensely logical in the times we live today where the value of a book is seldom recognized.

Happiness

Amrita went out the door. Just like that. I knew the booze in my system was making it seem lighter than it was and this lightness wouldn't be there tomorrow.

But she was gone and that was the only truth. As she walked way I heard the song aaj Jaane ke zidd na karo and I thought how fitting it was.

I wondered how easy it was to let go. After all the years of togetherness, after all the time spent as one, is it so easy to let go? I didn't blame her, it was obviously me. I took it for granted. I assumed it would last forever no matter what.

I realised how the small things are the most important. It was not the foreign holiday that was important, it was me being there with her on it that counted. It was not the diamond ring that mattered, it was the feeling of joy of wearing it while with me on a date that mattered.

Nostalgia of the wrong sort kicked in. How I had walked away from Anu a few years back. It was the same thing that had happened, only difference being I walked out that time. And here I was at the receiving end now. How stupid we are I wondered. Chasing things and finally realising it was not what made us happy. Justifying our actions in the name of our loved ones for our own selfish reasons.

Amrita was all I needed. Amrita and our baby she was carrying. Not the career, not the house, not the money and fame,just her presence in my life. It was an epiphany. 

As I stood wondering, the door opened and she came in. She hugged me and her tears made me realise another thing. More than all things what mattered to me was her happiness. That was all. That was the end and ultimate. 

I was reborn and I was there, at the destination called happiness...

Ruffian

The man in front of her looked like a ruffian. He was one. He didn't notice her looking at him through her dark sunglasses.. He went about his work as usual. 

After picking a few pockets his focus was on her bag. While she stood facing his direction he walked around and approached to take her suit case.

As he reached out to take the suit case his rubber shoes squeaked against the tile floor. While turning around hearing the noise she said "sir, madam can you help me find the exit" as she extended her foldable blind mans stick. 

A ruffian died. 

Scars...

It was gloomy, one of those days when the weather brings out the darkness within as well as without. I had a million worries on my mind; at the foremost of it all was my work life. I always considered myself something of an above average performing employee. I thought I was well read, spoke well and did all tasks given to me with all my heart and soul. Apparently it was not enough. In the typical way bosses always do, my boss told me I was not doing enough. What exactly did he mean by enough I asked. He said  was I not doing enough "out of the ordinary work" - I understood it as I was not doing things beyond the call of duty. I still don't know if my interpretation was right.

My super boss went another leap in the direction of uncertainty with his feedback when he said - I was not energetic enough. Now what was that supposed to mean? I was not bouncy and always smiling at work? I am an introvert and it takes six months for me to say hello to my neighbor, and so how can one expect me to be the office guy who says good morning with gusto every day like it was the start of a vacation day? So if I want to move up the career ladder do I have to fake it? Is the corporate set up only conducive for extroverts?

I then moved on to comparing myself with how my colleagues were performing. There were one or two who, without a doubt, were better than me at what they did. The curse of the average performance was still on my trail. I was always the 4th or 5th ranker in everything I did. Never was I third or above or 7th and below. I was the king of average performance. And at work too I was at the same level. So I was thinking what made me feel so miserable when there were a lot of others who were as good/bad (we're in the middle and so equidistant from bad and good) as me or worse. Why did the bosses decide to pick on me? Was it because I was a meek and docile fellow who would rather shut up than give a wrong answer. I was forever the fearful one - if there was something to be risked I wouldn't attempt it. My fear of failure is extraordinary. I would rather visit the same hotel and have insipid food than go to a new one and fail even if there is an equal chance of huge success.

As the clouds turned grey and my my mind even more grey - I had a task to close. I had to pick Appa up from the station.I picked him up, bought him coffee at one of the best places near home and placed him home. I got hot water running for his bath, put his clothes in the machine for washing and got him his newspapers and magazines. Then I sat listening to his opinions on everything starting from how great our community is to how bad today's kids are. I, in my usual methodology of acquiescing to all my dad does and says, nodded in agreement. It suddenly struck me that I didn't do any of this for my mom. I didn't work hard to make her happy in the smallest of things.

I was working hard to make my father feel comfortable - inwardly I realize, after a lot of feedback from my wife about my favorable treatment of my father, I was afraid of hearing criticism from my dad. As a child I only heard good things from him. When I played foot ball in the house and broke the wall clock he sat laughing and gloating to mom and my siblings about how good a footballer I was. I remember him showering praise on me and saying to anybody who cared to listen, all about my smartness and talents. I remember him boasting about my ability to write neatly, play cricket, speak English, read books etc to everybody he met.

And now after he moved on in life into another family; after all these years when I am an adult he has praise for only others; his nephews and friends sons and daughters. They earn more money, they have moved abroad, they are so smart, they have bought their own house - and so on and so forth. In order to look better in his eyes I do all that I possibly can - to the level of not asking him about why he left us for another woman. My wife asks me why I don't talk to him with the same confidence I have when speaking with mom. She asks me why I don't say no to him even when he asks me to buy insurance in the name of investment, just to fuel that woman's business. I have thought about this long and hard and am not able come up with a logical reason. I lie to myself saying he is alone and does not have the affection of a family, but I know that is not the true reason.

Is it this behavior of mine that tongue ties me and makes me want to always pacify everyone? Is it this fear of wanting to be accepted and liked that is keeping me from reaching my potential? Am i scared to come out of the shell and take chances because I am too scared to fail and look bad in the eyes of all that I assume are watching me? I know that parents behaviors shapes children's dispositions, but can it also impact someone in their teens - especially if it is during the time of some traumatic event like a split in the family?

With all the thoughts in mind I wake up Appa to drop him at his nephews place, the one who has made it big in life and whose son is an IIM graduate. They hardly meet, but he makes a lot of money. The nephew had a heart attack a few months ago and his son was not able to make it to his fathers side. He survived, but I have a feeling he missed his son. Will Appa miss me in times of distress or will he carry the thoughts of a failed son who never lived up to the achievements that the worlds sons threw at their fathers feet?

Will I overcome my fear of failures and overcome my troubles at work? There is a philosophical thought that says self realization is the beginning of change - maybe this is the beginning of my change.

Raadhe maa - just another baba (babi?, babini?)

Image source - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Zmpotk0qgU

I don't see what the hullabaloo about this raadhe maa is all about. Why does it have to stand out like a sore thumb among the millions of other equally, if not more, quirky babas all over our country? I personally am privy to the existence of babas that can pull out weird things from their mouths, of babas that vigorously claim the benefits of healing crystals that can cure cancer, of babas in our parliament (yep, they have entered that place too) that advocate hindus to have more babies to thwart the attempts of other communities to take over the world by mere reproduction. On those lines why must raadhe maa alone be pilloried and punished?

The claims are that she had bizzare rituals constituted to appease her like lifting her. So what? All the believers in babas talk like it is something out of the ordinary when there are even worse traditions followed like our famous south indian baba whose appeasement included offerings of the flesh. He still prospers and has a big fan following. Then there is the lady baba (maybe we can call them babis? or maybe babinis?) of kerala who has the practice of hugging all the visitors to her shrine that is a well oiled machine funded by foreign donations. These are main stream when compared to the "exotic" and completely bizzare practices the not so famous babas ask their followers to practice in order to attain their blessings.

There was another famous godman in the news recently who used innocent followers as shields to save himself from the police. Then there was the charlatan who opened millions of Indians eyes to the truth behind these babas lives, the famous, or rather the infamous Premananda who was incarcerated for his crimes ranging from rape to murder.

When all of these babas exist, thrive actually, why must raadhe maa be singled out and made a huge scene out of? She is merely using the platform of religion to make money and earn fame just like thousands of other babas have done. Why this outburst from society over her behavior specifically when there are so many of them out there? She is only catering to the needs of a society that now wants even spirituality packed with glamour and sensationalism.

All the public outrage should be on the followers of these charlatans. They feed them with money and power and undue patronage. When the usual tactics have been depleted, the charlatans cook up new creative forms of worship such as carrying the baba, not wearing underwear when worshiping them, not using the alphabet "b" the day of meeting with them and so on. They have realised, the more weird and wacky the form of worship is, the more famous they get and the more "bakras" they get as followers.

Raadhe maa is singled out for a multitude of reasons. One is that she is a woman, not may women have made it to the grand levels of reception as a spiritual leader (spiritual quacks is what I would like to call them). Another reason is that the holy ones cannot be glamorous, she is a woman of god, how can she wear such skimpy clothes and pose for photographs. The newspapers like the famous "Times" made a killing publishing photos that were lapped up like cats lapping up milk from off the floor. And then suddenly there are so many people associated with her who have complaints against her now. She is anyway in soup, might as well make the best of it and get famous is the attitude of these people. So add a few more semi celebrities to the boiling pot and voila - we have a sensational piece of news and throw in with that a huge readership base of the Times. And that's why raadhe maa is famous. If she is to be tried for her methods of worship or for anything that has to do with her advice to her devotees, there are thousands of babas asking their devotees to kill who are praised for their advice.

We have affiliates of the central government who go to the lengths of saying other communities should be stripped of voting rights. Then there are the rabid followers of sectarian parties openly giving statements to devotees to go after blood, to purvey violence. If no action can be taken against any of these people, poor miss raadhe maa should be allowed the liberty of having her devotees lift her and follow her words - it is after all a way to salvation....

In defense of the average man - A lesson I learnt from Dr APJ Abdul Kalam

There are many emotions and opinions associated with the demise of a teacher, technocrat and president Dr APJ Abdul Kalam. There are stories doing the rounds about his achievements, about anecdotes from his life and a lot of nationalistic emotions are flowing. Among all the outpourings and the millions of little pieces of information, one thing enlightened and inspired me. A close aide of the late Dr Kalam was asked by the man himself what he would like to be remembered for/as? The pupil was not too sure and shot the question back to Dr Kalam. Pat came the reply "as a teacher".

Isn't it surprising - for all the things he was known for he wanted to be remembered as a teacher rather than be acknowledged by the famous epithet of "Missile man" or as the "peoples president". A germ of an idea took root in me when I read this.One does not have to be a rocket scientist to feel a sense of achievement at the end of his life. One does not have to lead a bank or run a million dollar corporation, to one day after retirement, look at the mirror and feel a sense of contentment. One does not have to become president to have a peaceful retirement with the satisfaction of a life well lived! I think this is an important lesson we need to learn if we are to avoid dejection and regret about a life not lived successfully.

Some men manage to impact the society with a magnitude that 99% of the remaining people can never dream of. So does that mean the remaining 99% of the people have nothing to be remembered for? Does this mean that an average person has nothing to feel good about after he has taken reprieve from the world for his bit of rest?  No! The 1%  may have impacted the society by sending a space craft to Pluto or discovering a cure for AIDS, but do they carry my daughter on their shoulders to see the fair? Do they go the extra mile to earn the few extra rupees to make my families life a little better? Do they have the time to sit with a friend of mine who has lost his loved one and needs a shoulder to cry on? Do they feed the street dog that faithfully lies at my gate expecting me to feed it because I have been it's savior?

No, they cannot do any of this for the people that you do it for! So no matter how much impact they have made on society it's you that has made an impact in your families life,in your friends life, in the lives of the all the people that you touch. You will be remembered for the extra effort you put in to help that child learn in your class. You will be remembered for the extra time you worked to ensure that your customer got his insurance amount on time! You will be remembered for shaping the life of your child and for showing them the person they could be! You will be remembered for the loving and caring partner that you were and helping your partner grow personally. You will be remembered by the poor little sick brown dog that you fed every day in spite of a busy life style!

An average man has a lot to his credit. No human being needs to feel they have not achieved in life. Achievement/success in today's mainstream media definition is limited to money, position/power and fame. They are the things being sold and therefore they are the things that are yearned for. Success does not have a static representation. It is different to different people. One mans success ends at a million and another's begins at it. One man's success is all about a happy family and another man's is all about a happy penguin.

If a man of Dr Kalam's stature with so many achievements under his belt could choose teaching as his most important achievement in life over all the other things that are deemed important by others, I don't see why we cannot choose what is closest to our heart and do our best at it and feel satisfied about a life well lived.

Our achievement could be as "trivial" as educating our children as much as their potential deems fit to see them excel in their lives or as "magnificent" as a cure for AIDS. Both of these are successful, only difference is how you choose to see it.

Writers rant

There are days that you find everything worth writing about, like the puddles formed after last nights rain and the vendor who pushes his cart out every morning as you ride to work. There are also those days that you cannot find it in you to write about anything, even if it is the death of a loved one or the joy of the birth of your child. Then there are the days that you badly want to write, if only to prove to your dithering and now doubtful mind that you still have it in you to write, to offer your mocking mind some form of resistance in your fight to prove that you will write something of worth some day

I write about the things that matter to me only to realize it is not what matters to me but what matters to my perception of my readers that I am trying to pander to. Today my reader is a young man browsing the net aimlessly looking for his shoot of high from information, a very high if it is about phony social moral issues and even higher if it is about sleaze dressed up in the garb of "crime against women" or "rape in India, girl of 9 raped by uncle, atrocious news" or "this woman asks a man to have sex with her, but what he says will blow your mind"

So when I decide to write that kind of stuff, am I whoring out my skill to express the events of the world through my senses? Am I pandering to the lewdness of my readers and giving them a sexual high while I am getting my high of social recognition and positive reinforcement to continue to utilize my imagination and craft of words to gush out stories of decadence carefully camouflaged as ones of concern for the world and its meanness.

Where does a writer find his place in this world of 140 letters and zillion pixel cameras. Where does he find the human spirit of appreciation that is now mired in the need for materialism so great that they have time for only 140 character stories and pictures. His words do not create as many vivid colours of images as a video does. His words ask for the reader to create worlds in their minds rather than serve it up on a plate in high definition. His words do not give them the freedom to see it and go away in an instant. It instead asks for their attention, it asks to be spent time on, it asks to be thought about. And in today's world that is too much to ask for. There is war raging somewhere, there are actors getting married and movies being released. There are crimes of passion happening all around the country and there are politicians spouting acerbic, vicious words of divisiveness. There are internet trends to be followed and youtube videos to be watched. There are new social terms to be learned if you need to remain "cool". A writers words are nothing but sweat soaked thoughts written in a moment of inspiration, lost to the ravages of time, unable to cope with the speed and ease of the ubiquitous 140 characters, pictures/videos.

The world would rather talk about what that famous star wore to a concert than talk about how you felt when you held that new born kid in your hand. The world would be more interested in your deep and heavily thought about review of a movie rather than your thoughts about a book that talked about a family that lived happily and later slowly disintegrated on account of life's vagaries.


A writers place today is limited to a few hearts. The world has no time to extract his emotions or thoughts from his tools of expression; his words. A twitter account or an SLR camera could make a change and cater to his yearning for the spirits that kindle his flame of creativity, but it would never give him the joy of a verse well laid out, of an idea expressed as a string of words that expresses his every thought. He would lose his connection with the true world, he would be another temporarily famous 140 character or photograph...