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For
the past three days, I have been controlling my temptation to participate in
the A to Z challenge. Often, I used to read posts and wonder, "I will participate when I have time." However, “When I have time” too is a very grey concept.
Finally, today I
gave in to the temptation. Damyanti’s blog was a big motivator, for she had
done a marvelous job of simplifying the whole process and providing all the
information in one post. So, this evening, while I was on my way back home from
work, the challenge was all that I was thinking of.
I know writing a month’s
post in advance is the key, for networking is a key factor here. This coupled
with the daily pendulum between home, office and motherhood leaves me thirsty
for me time. So, I take up the challenge today, more for giving myself few
minutes of “me time” for a month, more than anything else. Whether or how much
of it I can manage, only time will tell. But, isn’t it better to try and try
rather than not trying at all?
This thrilling narrative
of a serial killer’s life and the unusual and challenging investigation to
catch him, uncovers a chilling trail of unspeakable torment and cruelty – the tale
of Raakshas.
The Cover
Raakshas himself
welcomes readers with his bloodshot eyes and his weapon of destruction. Look
into his eyes and you will definitely think twice about reading the book,
especially if you are beginning to read at night!
My View
Raakshas is a touching
story of an innocent boy who is forced by circumstances to become a psychopath
killer. One doesn’t get to know his real name, so I will call him R. Labelled a
killer at birth and blamed for his mother’s death merely marked the beginning
of his life’s atrocities. There was still a lot more to come. A harrowing time
with his father followed next. Brahmanand, who saw his son as a mere distraction
to his ongoing research, was the major culprit in spoiling his son’s life. After
all, it is the parents’ responsibility to provide an environment conducive to
the child’s holistic development. The first few pages brought tears into my
eyes. “How can a father be so cruel to his own son?” I kept wondering. But
then, haven’t we heard stories of scientists who lost it in pursuit of their
impossible inventions? The little boy’s perseverance however, impresses us throughout.
Gifted with an amazingly sharp brain, the boy had it all in him to become a
genius.
But, destiny had
different plan for him. After months of inhuman treatment by his father,
destiny gave R a chance to escape his father’s den and be united with the only
mother figure to him in the big, bad world – his maternal aunt Latika. Little did
he realise that the journey to his aunt’s place would instead take him to the
path of being a serial killer.
On his way to his aunt’s
place, little R got kidnapped by a baba, a serial killer himself. It was the years
of captivity, being baba’s assistant in his heinous crimes that transformed the
boy into a serial killer. Throughout the years of captivity, R just dreamt of
escaping Baba’s clutches and being reunited with his aunt. Sadly, by the time this
happened, his soul had already become a personification of evil.
What followed next was
a story that could shake the reader to the core. One after another, the tales
of his heinous crimes gave me goose bumps.
The story has a very
strong message - A serial killer is not born but is made.
Almost parallel runs
the story of a girl, as intelligent as R but much favored by her destiny. An
event in her adolescence which could have spoiled her life forever instead became
her biggest strength. The girl went on to become a super cop, which brings us
our second message – We are what we choose to become, not what circumstances
want us to be.
The book also
highlights the side effects of a practice rampant these days – of media
highlighting and exaggerating every little piece of information. Had the
media not come up with a silly idea of “ranking of serial killers”, many lives
could have been saved.
Grab the book, for Raakshas
isn’t a book about nabbing yet another serial killer on a killing spree. It
goes a step beyond and portrays all that goes around in the minds of serial
killers, their fears, triggers, emotions and motivations – the face of devil
inside. The parallel tracks of the lady cop and R give the story an interesting
“Yin and Yang” touch.
What I loved about the
book
Everything, for the story
has the power to leave an impact on its readers. Being my first crime thriller
I was quite hesitant but the book kept my hooked on until I didn’t finish the
last page. As I was glued to the book, the courier boy and a plumber who
visited my house were welcomed with my suspicious eyes. Need I say more?
What could have been better?
Many aspects of the
lady cop seemed too good to be true and exaggerated to give her a heroic
stature.
My rating
4/5
About the Author
Piyush Jha is an acclaimed film director, ad filmmaker
and author of bestselling crime fiction novels. His films Chalo America, King
Of Bollywood and Sikandar are noted for their unconventional subject matter.
Currently working on a crime based TV show, Piyush’s earlier novels are
Mumbaistan, Compass Box Killer and Anti Social Network.
Throughout my
growing years, I teased my mom for one thing – whenever I would fall sick or be
in pain, she would start crying. I remember once when a dog had bit me, on our
way to the hospital, mom was crying more than me. She had heard how painful
anti rabies injection was and she was scared about how I would tolerate the
pain. As I joked that she looked more like the patient than me, she said, “You
will understand my pain when you become a mother.”
Mom left me few
years ago, but her words have echoed in my mind several times ever since I
became a mother…
After my delivery,
when my intravenous cannula was removed, I rejoiced thinking, “The pain is
over!” Little did I know a new challenge awaited me – of witnessing my baby in
pain during vaccination!
As the date for
the next monthly vaccination drew near, anxiety gripped me...
The initial
mandatory vaccines were administered by the pediatrician while I was still bed
ridden. But, as the date for the next monthly vaccination drew near, anxiety
gripped me. The mere thought of the needle pricking my baby’s soft skin and the
imaginary sight of my little angel wincing in pain gave me goose bumps.
Like
all new moms, I too have lost track of how days become weeks, and weeks months.
When a festival is around the corner, my elder sister or my MIL act as
reminders, suggesting the bare minimum rituals I should follow.
This
morning, as sonny boy and I went to the park for our daily dose of Vitamin D, I
was delighted to see a burst of yellow. Women dressed in yellow, yellow flowers
shouting to be picked up at flowers, the familiar freshness in the air and Pandal
with Ma Saraswati idol in the colony school – I didn’t take a moment to realize
Basant Panchmi – Saraswati Puja is here!
While
my family doesn’t practice any ritual as such, apart from wearing yellowand
preparing sweet yellow pulav, Basant Panchmi occupies a very special place in
my heart. Having spent 12 years in a Bengali dominated school; the festival has
been a special occasion each year. After all, this was the only day in the year
when we could wear the dress of our choice to school instead of the boring
uniform! Unlike most kids who save the best dress for birthdays, girls in my
school dressed their best on Basant Panchmi. The three day long celebrations provided
us the much awaited break from classes, freedom to dress up as we liked, lot of
fun, amazing Bengali sweets and bhog, and much needed blessings from Ma Saraswati
before the final exams would haunt us!
A Day Before
A
day before the festival, all eyes would be trained towards the school gate as
we waited for Ma Saraswati idol to arrive. The moment we saw the tempo, we
would leave everything and rush to the foyer. The entire school echoed with “Bolo
bolo Saraswati Mai ki Jai” as we welcomed the goddess with flowers, songs
and impromptu dance!
The festival
For
us, this was the day of freedom, fun and festivities! Our usually over
protective parents gave us the luxury of giving the school bus a miss. Instead,
we girls took our sweet time to dress up our best and arrived at the school on
our own, in groups. The security situation wasn’t as sorry as present, so the
authorities let open the gates of the senior wings and one could enter and
leave school premises at our own wish. For teenagers of a girl’s school, this
was nothing short of living the college dream once a year! The senior girls
would seize the opportunity to flaunt the best sarees and imitation jewellery,
even as the eyes of senior teachers scrutinized the depth of their blouses!
Best part would be the Pushpanjali time, when each one of us would pray to Ma
for good marks and a bright career! Sounds of “Bolo bolo Saraswati Mai ki Jai”
would fill the ramparts as those who waited for their turn took to dancing and
singing! Wish we had mobile phones with cameras back then! The alumni also took
this occasion to take blessings from Ma and thank teachers for shaping up their
careers so well.
Morning
gave way to the noon in no time and the aroma from the makeshift kitchen in the
classroom signalled that the Bhog was ready. Our teachers displayed their
culinary skills as they pampered us with the most delicious Bhog – the traditional
Khichuri! After Bhog, we would dash to grab our boxes of Prasad which contained
an assortment of the best Bengali sweets one could think of!
Awwww! I miss my school!
As
we progressed to senior classes, the later part of the noon became hangout time
with friends at Connaught Place before we returned home.
Visarjan
This
was a moment that came heavy on our hearts as the thoughts of Ma parting left
us teary eyed. Moments after the tempo left the school premises, taking Ma
away, we would keep looking at the gate with gloom. Then the teachers would
lovingly ask us to return to our classes and be good students till Ma returned
next year.
More
than a decade after leaving school and more than a thousand kilometres away
from school now, I still feel the fragrance of flowers and incense sticks
afresh in my mind. As I recall those wonder years, I pray Ma Saraswati for
blessing my little one with knowledge and creativity the way she has been
generous to me.
To,
the Goddess, the mother, and the power – Bolo bolo Saraswati mai ki Jai !!!
Sharing
few pics of my visit to the Alma mater few years ago
Ours was an arranged marriage.
Unlike majority of my friends who boasted of love marriages, their “I Do”
stories and lot of PDA (Public display of affection), mine was a rather shy affair. The only aspect I could
boast of was that unlike poles attract, for we were poles apart yet we
felt the sparks enough to say yes after just half an hour of meeting! Like most
arranged Big Fat Indian weddings of our times, our “I Do” was a rather shy
moment in front of our families. As for PDA, well before we could even break
the ice, we were married, almost like a miracle!
So here we were, a newly married
couple, trying our level best to know each other and bridge the gap between
those unlike poles. As a new bride, I was in the “impress your hubby” mode,
whether by whipping up lip smacking meals, dressing to kill, or charming him by
my creative attributes.
One morning, sitting on my desk
and sipping on my morning cuppa, my mind threw an amazing idea of impressing my
cute, lovely and shy hubby. I used to send a Good Morning mail with an
inspiring thought to my team, few friends, boss and super boss every morning.
As I was drafting the Good morning mail that day, I thought, “Why not add HIM
to the mailing list?” I knew he was the intellectual types. So, with all good
intentions of impressing my hubby and starting his day on a beautiful note, I
marked him too in the mail and hit the “Send” button.
Within seconds, I started
receiving the usual replies of appreciation and Good morning wishes from my
colleagues. But my eyes were desperately looking for this one name in my inbox,
while my fingers promptly kept hitting the refresh button. “Would he have liked
it, or thought it as yet another forward mail in his inbox?” I was curious to
know the reaction.
My wait was short lived, for
after few minutes, my eyes finally spotted what they had been looking for. It
was a reply from him. He had loved the mail and replied, “Loved it baby, just
like your cozy cuddle this morning!”
But, before I could even recover
from recalling that morning “moment” we had, I was disturbed by a “Hmmm…cozy
cuddle” from the next workstation! I was awakened with a start. Was someone
peeping into my PC? No.
A moment later, my eyes went wide
with shock looking at the mail, as if they had witnessed the sun rising from
the west!
My loving hubby, impressed by my
gesture didn’t waste much time in seizing this moment of praising his wife.
However, it so happened that in a hurry to shower his love, he selected “Reply
All” option instead of “Reply”
The rest, as you can all guess is
indeed a memorable moment of my life!
His debut attempt at PDA was read
by my friends, team, my boss and to my horror, even my super boss! As I saw my
friends share naughty smiles and girls say “Aww, so romantic”, I felt like
forcing my tomato red face into the PC screen. A moment
later, my mobile flashed with his number. The poor thing had realized his mistake and apparently tried to recall the mail. But the arrow had already left
the bow!
After a moment of silence on both
the sides, suddenly both of us shared a laugh!
He - It just happened, I swear!
Me -Yeah, I could make that out
He – They must be teasing you na!
Me – Hmmmm (Going super conscious
with all eyes on me)…they find it too romantic (almost whispering)!
He – But I loved it!
Me – What? (Whispering, with my
face going cherry red by now)
He – Your morning cuddle, and oh,
uh, the morning thought as well!
Me – Well, what was the thought by the way?
He – Ummmmmm
And we both burst out laughing!
The ice was melting faster than
we had expected. A true soulmate is the one with whom we can share a good laugh,
I had heard. This funny PDA moment proved it as well!
As I
write this review, Mr. Hubby gives me a mocking smile. Often my liking for
old forgotten Hindi movies earn me the title of an alien from the old
generation. But I really wanted to write about this one, and by the end of this
post you shall know why.
I
discovered this movie few days ago as I was discussing the good old times with
Papa when mom used to sing me this lullaby.
Papa
was quick to insight me that the same movie also has many famous songs
including one of my favourites, Shola Jo Bhadke
This
was enough enticement for the movie buff in me and so I decided to watch this
movie the same night.
Like
all old movies, this one too talks of dreams and aspirations among poverty.
Pyarelal (Bhagwan Dada) who lives in a small rented house with his family,
eats, sleeps and drinks theatre. So much is his passion for theatre that he
even daydreams in his office and gets sacked for lack of seriousness at work.
Those were the times when acting and creative pursuits weren’t looked high upon. As expected, he gets thrashed by his father for being a burden on his
family. His only pillar of support is his younger sister Bimla who believes in
his dreams and encourages him to follow his instinct. But have dreams ever
helped counter poverty and hunger? Circumstances force Pyarelal to leave the
house, leaving a crying mother blessing him success.
The
big bad world of showbiz treats Pyarelal like any other struggler is treated –
with rejection and disrespect. However, destiny takes him on a different track
upon his chance meeting with Asha (Geeta Bali). The simple and clean hearted
Pyarelal is able to make his way in Asha’s heart and is soon seen fulfilling
his dream of a successful actor.
Amidst
all the glitz and glamour, he is reminded one day of his promise to his mother,
that he would return home one day when he becomes a successful actor. However,
destiny again plays a cruel game. While on one hand, Pyarelal’s family faces a
storm of troubles, the theatre company finds it best to keep him away from
his poor relatives, else he might not drift away from the world of theatre.
Whether Pyare is able to keep his promise to his family and maintain his
stardom is for the viewer to watch and find out, but the movie touches you for
its sheer simplicity and pain of a common man.
It
was also a treat to discover that many songs of this movie are still
afresh in our minds as the golden classics.
Trivia
Did
you know this movie was the 3rd highest grosser of 1951? You might
also wanna read about Bhagwan Dada who once had a 25 room sea facing bunglow in
Juhu and a fleet of 7 luxury cars, one for each day of the week, but died
amidst poverty in a Dadar chawl. Albela is the movie he is best known for.
It’s that time of the
year again when Rajpath looks as fresh as a new bride and Rashtrapati Bhawan
resplendent with the lights of glorious 67 years of a proud republic. India
celebrates its 67th Republic Day!
For many, it’s #thattimeoftheyear
again, when the tricolour ensemble in their wardrobes sees light of the day; when
VIP passes for the parade are more sought after than #OnePlusOne invites;
when expensive Silks and Pashminas get ready to be flaunted by Mrs. Who’s Who
at VIP pavilions of India Gate; when patriotic songs are remembered to be
placed as caller tunes, when the boy on the traffic signal selling flags is
finally granted his wish; when Selfie sticks get ready to give a perfect #SelfieWithTricolour
& when our social media profiles get buzzing with #ILoveMyIndia!
Phew!
For few, #ItsAllAboutLovingADayOff!
When I was still in school,
my sister who was pursuing her journalism got an interesting assignment. They had
to visit Republic Day Parade and informally ask spectators the reasons that
drew them to Rajpath – was it patriotism or just a nice way of celebrating a
day off? Republic day celebrations at school for me meant composing and
reciting poems and speeches, which I couldn’t have done unless I felt it in me.
So, I told my sister my predictions of the survey outcome. However, the results
were a far cry from my expectations, for most people in general pavilions said
they were there for the lovely tableau and flypast! Of Course, they were able
to express themselves honestly in the absence of cameras and in the cover of
anonymity. Well, this was years before mobile phones and social media were even
born! It was a shock for me, the simple school kid, for we celebrated
Independence Day, Republic Day, Freedom Fighter Birthdays etc with much
enthusiasm in the innocent confines of our school!
Ah! The good old #AgeOfInnocence!
While last year saw us
all swelling with pride at India’s #ObamaMoment, this year has been very
different. Many words have been added to the common man’s vocabulary - #Intolerance,
#Tolerance, #AwardWapsi, #GharWapsi, #Bigotry,
#Casteism etc.
I am a common man
woman with limited vocabulary, so I only understand one word - #Insensitivity;
towards each other, for only then could have people been so selfish to ignore
welfare of others for their vested interests. From “Man is a social
animal”, the social has been brutally eaten. Mind It! This isn’t something
that has happened this year, we have witnessed enough of this before too and I
have blogged about few instances of #Shamelessness that irked me (The Guest Who wasn't spared, Wake Up, One evening in an auto, Letter to Santa from a Delhi Girl, Love Thy Neighbour, Delhi Nautanki, Musings of an old Dilliwala) . For
starters, insensitivity begins with people ignoring a dead man on Gurgaon
Expressway and stopping only to capture his pics for their Facebook shares…#Shameless.
Then there are people I have met during my weekend trips to Vrindavan who wouldn’t
even care to donate had Section 80G of Income Tax Act not existed. Of course,
good Samaritans walk this earth too, but the #SelfishnessAboveEverything
still trends.
Meanwhile, the #SelfieWithTriColour
witnesses a new high score, as does visitors to India Gate & Central Park.
As I sing this song
from my childhood to my little one
I wonder where we are going
wrong, for we are the lights that light up the nation.
Big words are for big
people. Confused between welfare of state and welfare of their vested interests,
they are busy scoring points in the publicity match. Biting more than they can
chew and then chewing their words hurriedly like a gum is their past time,
which most commoners are too common to make sense of.
For We, The people, it
is as simple about #BeingSensitive; The Big people towards us and us
towards each other. We are shouting to making ourselves heard amidst noise of
their #TugOfWar.
Still waiting to find
your voice? Go, take a #SelfieWithTricolour and think about a genuine
caption #Straightfromtheheart.
