Find of the Year

It has been a good year. A really really good year. As evidenced by my library, especially.

What, you really thought I could get by without talking about those godawesome, superfabulous prized gems I have?!

Anyway, I think it would be fitting to end this year with a post on the best find this year, without any doubt whatsoever. Hang on, I'm not actually promising this is my last post this year, just saying this might be.

So, I have firm faith that when it comes to books, they find you. When the time is right.

Say what now? Oh did I say that already? About Life? Well, err ... it's a good philosophy and who said I could only use it once, anyway?

Nyhoo, like I was saying ... I find it unbelievable that I spent so much time without knowing this peice of fabulousness which is my recent find.

But now I first insist on elaborating on my philosophy. So, it was Christmas Eve and I was off work early (not really, everyone else had left hours before I and another colleague did). I wanted a present for Christmas. Seeing as how none were forthcoming owing to my home-alone status for the week, I decided the thing to do was go find one. And I trotted off to that humongous bookstore in the neighbourhood. I LOVE the place. How can you not love any place that is five floors filled wall to wall with books?! Okay, I admit, occasionally, when I'm tired, the place tires me. It tires me to look at so many books and not be able to simply pick something up like that and be done with it.

Anyway, Christmas Eve seemed to be one of my luckier days. I walked in and sauntered over to the fiction section. Let my eyes rove over what was on offer, for a bit ... and then, something started to nag at me. "Let's go to the science fiction section" kept playing in my mind on loop and in ten strides, I was there, before I even had a chance to have a mental argument.

I was actually in the wrong bit because I was vaguely looking for anything by Neil Gaiman. But I hadn't yet registered the fact and was browsing. And something caught my eye amid all the dark brooding covers and spines on display. Something rather bright and sunshiny. I looked closer to find something extremely appealing looking back at me.



Just look at that! Isn't that the cutest thing ever?! Tell me it doesn't call out to you! Tell me you're going to find that in the science-fiction section and not be intrigued.

So I picked it up. The front cover says "Moers' creative mind is like J. K. Rowling's on ecstasy", which made me sceptical but the sight of a darned cute bluebear spurred me on to glance at the back cover. Where I found a short description and more reviews. Shall I just say, no second thoughts, I picked it up and handling it like it was a baby, walked around a bit more before heading to the till? I did.

And I started reading it on the way home. I'm sort of half-way through it and I can't remember any other book that I have savoured as much. Any other book that I haven't hurriedly read through just so I could finish and know how it ends. This is ... incredible!

Sometimes, I wonder how I lived before I discovered Neil Gaiman and Stardust, and the Hitchiker's Guide. Now I wonder how I could have existed without knowing of Walter Moers.

To put it very very succinctly, this is the perfect cross between the Hitchiker's Guide and Neil Gaiman's work. I can't agree with the J. K. Rowling reference simply because that's like comparing the Mahabharata and Percy Jackson because they're both mythology based.

"The 13 1/2 Lives of Captain Bluebear: A Novel", as titles go, is very intriguing. You don't really know what to expect. Is this going to be about re-incarnation? It's about a blue bear. The possibilities are endless! A blue bear. So simple and yet so intricate a creation of imagination. Anything can happen! And does!

He's found floating in a walnut by 6-inch high minipirates and raised by them to sail the seas until he grows too big for their vessel and is abandoned. Whereupon he's found by Hobgoblins who look after him while he repays them by crying for their pleasure. And hen he sets sail on his own and encounters Babbling Billows who teach him to speak. 'Speak' is too less a term to describe Bluebear's education here. He learns "to spell and pronounce, decline and conjugate, substantivize and genitivize, accusativize and dativize ..." and "... murmer and maunder, gabble and prattle, whisper and bellow, converse and confabulate [...] deliver a speech or a soliloquy [...] talk someone else to a standstill, [...] talk [my] way out of a life or death situation [...] propose a toast, swear an oath (and break it), declaim a monologue, compose a verse ..." and much more.

He nearly gets eaten by a monstrous undersea plant that lures its victims by pretending to be a gourmet island, rescued by a Roving Reptilian Rescuer (Pterodactylus Salvator) and becomes his navigator, is enrolled in the school of a Nocturnomath (a seven brained ... errr, creature) where he is taught ever possible thing imaginable, makes friends with a gelatinous prince from the 2364th dimension, an Alpine Imp, meets Troglotrolls, falls into a dimensional hiatus ... and has several more entertaining, well narrated adventures which I'm yet to read.

You want funny sounding complicated names and terms? You've got it. You want a bit of hi-fi sci-fi? Bluebear's story is your bible. You want superior illustrations and presentation? Don't look further.

Seriously, how exactly did I exist without even knowing about this book?! Or Walter Moers for that matter.

My only tiny gripe is that the paras aren't indented so occasionally it's hard to tell where one ends and another begins but it's a very minor issue, one you hardly notice when you're so engrossed in the story.

Read it, you're missing out and it's not worth missing out on. And when you've finished it, find all the other books you can by Walter Moers and keep them safe.

I'm going to be building a temple for Neil Gaiman, Douglas Adams and Walter Moers.

On Joining the Mid-Twenties Brigade.

So, Happy Birthday to me! Make that Happy 25th Birthday to me. 27th December 2009. And indeed it was a happy one :)

Birthdays have usually meant major sulks for me seeing as how they come bang in the middle of Christmas holidays. It didn't help that I studied in a school run by Christian missionaries so we were given more holidays than other schools. Nor did it help that after a point, friends always lived too far away to really be there at any birthday parties. Or maybe, the problem was more that I expected more than I could have and ended up disappointed. There have been a few birthdays which were, if not fantastic, very nice indeed! Like in 5th standard when my then girl chums descended on the house (they had to be invited, of course) and we proceeded to have a typical mid-primary party with too much oil in our hair, ghastly outfits and bright smiles as I cut a home-baked cake and fed on mum's cooking. The photos are around somewhere. Girl chums of yore on the other hand ... we've drifted far apart. As was bound to happen.

Or take the one in tenth standard. Held a few days early (for some now-forgotten reason) ... when my then bunch of friends stopped by. It was a fun day! My parents were away and it was Ajji who took such pains to make pav-bhaji and the requisite sweet-dish (I'm ashamed to say I can't remember if it was narali-holgi or sakhar-bhath), ensuring my day was special. And of all the people who were there that day, Gem is the only one I'm still in touch with. Gem who was with me on my birthday last year, in Singapore. Who never fails to wish me on my birthday, proving on that one day that he isn't all the forgetful-absentminded prof everyone accuses him of being :) Okay so he was trying a number that I haven't used in two years today, but he did IM AND email, I ain't complaining ONE bit!

Today's though ... something else again.

I had friends ring my doorbell at 12 prompt (while I was yakking on IM with another friend and on the phone with celestialrays) ... and while they didn't bring a cake, just the sight of all those friendly faces, having given up plans of a 'boys only night out' just to be there at 12, that nailed it for me. They stayed for tea and left. All the time narrating tales of who had farted the most in the car and how they had maintained a defensive attitude and how everyone else reacted, endless repetitions of dialogues from 3-idiots in random contexts (to me, to them they were in-jokes) ... and they produced a bottle of wine. Which turned out to be a recycled birthday present of another friend who leaves the country tomorrow. They're honest. I'll give them that. And it was bloody good wine!

And after much faffing about, I dozed off and woke up early-ish. Folks've long ago learned not to call me at early hours, even on my birthday, simply because I won't answer. I value sleep above all else, sorry. So, for a change, I was up and calling the folks. No, I wasn't demanding to be wished. I just wanted mum's naan recipe. But of course, everyone had to wish me first after which I got afore-requested recipe. After which I went out to get needed groceries. And had to do a quick re-arrangement and re-planning of chosen menu. That done, I got down to cooking and with the help of two absolutely lovely people, lunch was made. Mint and peas 'pulao'*, seviayya kheer, raita, a chhole-aloo hashed sabzi and kneaded atta (we forgot about making 'naan' which were actually going to be chapatis, owing to leaving it till everyone else arrived so they'd be hot. And the sabzi was too less :P).

And then there was a 90 minute wait while the rest of the party was aroused from deep slumber and told to get their asses here fast. Which they did. And the rest of the evening whizzed by as we ate hungrily and then people played Bluff and Poker while I played 'DJ' and generally faffed around. After which a round of chai happened amidst watching clips of Omid Djallili, Russell Peters and The Mitchell and Webb Look.

They left a while ago, after helping me clean the place up AND do dishes. The house suddenly feels empty and it's beginning to hit me now that tomorrow Life will be back to its routine hum and I will be a year older than I was, a day ago.

So what's it like to be 25? It's only a number, what are you talking about?

I'm kidding. It doesn't work like that though you know. You don't suddenly feel different at the stroke of twelve (or, if you want to be really pedantic, then whatever hour that you were born at). There's no nirvana-spray that hits you, nor are there moments of epiphany just because the clock has struck. Not for me anyway, if it's happened to you, well then, good for you! (And do tell! ;) )

But do I feel different? Hell yes! :) It's been a fantastic year. Fantastic. Even if not everything has gone per plan. But I guess that's the beauty of it. Or maybe, that is the point of it. I don't really know. Maybe it's not your plan that you focus on but that of the cosmos because it cancels your plans and makes you do things you wouldn't otherwise, which go exactly as per its design. I don't really know, I'm only 25!

I feel different though. Not in a "Gawd I hated beans last year but this year I'm willing to eat them, but only if they are prepared in a certain way" different, heck, I doubt I can actually begin to describe what this 'different' is. But, it is. Different. (Insert quick ad for Maggi Hot and Sweet Tomato Chilli Sauce.)

Take today's party for example. Birthdays so far have meant a day of major sulks because friends couldn't/wouldn't be around and I had rathe large expectations of a birthday party. But this year, I am incredibly happy at having organised things myself and even spent my 'special day' cooking for other people. Well I didn't do it all by myself but I bothered. As opposed to being whiny kid wanting things on a platter. God, I've been awful. Prolly still am, a whole lot.

I'm a teeny bit more responsible than before, maybe. But I have a long way to go. A very very long way. And I only hope that those around me will have the patience to deal with me while I grow up still. That even more, they will tell me off when I need it.

I've done loads of stuff I've wanted to but didn't really get around to. Sometimes, I've even managed to step out of my comfort zone. Not necessarily big hulking steps that took me far out, maybe just teeny-tiny baby steps which still do make a difference. Some difference.

I might've learned a lasting lesson or two about relationships. And I hope I can act upon them. Consistently.

I have a good life. And I'm very very thankful for it.

Presents? With an entire year that was one huge present, they seem rather ... insignificant. It seems a bit silly to want material things I mean (and believe me, I was hard pressed to come up with a wish list at all because I invarably thought "But I already have everything I want and need!") But I did get presents. The girls gave me soaps etc from Lush (with the boxes stuffed with popcorn which tasted of soap [duh!] ... it's put me and our male chef off popcorn for a while), and the guys got me curling tongs! Of all the inexplicable things. No, apparently there is some convoluted explanation, some in-joke of sorts. Boys! I was rather delighted with it though because I might've wanted one of those vaguely.

Oddly enough, the lack of books hasn't really bothered me. 25 working it's magic, hah!

And, I'm being taken to the theatre one evening :D

I also bought some stuff, which is to be considered as given by the folks:




The funny thing is, this isn't stuff I'd have picked up earlier. I don't wear sunglasses. Ever. But I have a pair now! And boots! Well, I've wanted them for a while but I've put off getting them and a watch for so long that ... it's a bit of a surprise, having now bought them just like that. Seen, loved and bought. You can keep looking for something for ages and then you'll find it when you're least expecting it. Enjoy window shopping in the meantime, and don't fret about finding what you're looking for. It'll find you.

I guess that really is the lesson in all this turning-25 business.

And now for the best bits. Always save them for the last ;)

Words from two very precious people, girls as dear as none other, souls without whom this year wouldn't have meant as much as it does and without whom, Life would be dull, dull, dull (and who make me wonder how I ever got by without them, before).

Says the Lady of Lorien, our Kind Galadriel:

"Of books and cats. Of photographs and memories. Of intellect and unnatural humility.

Dewey is all of the above and so much more. Over the last year or so that I have known her (has it really been a year?!) we have become very close – I feel a connection with her that I feel with so few other people.

I’m not referencing any of her posts because it is simply impossible to find one that is better than any other. That being said, her blog is just one of the places where you can see the tremendous potential she has as a storyteller, as a thinker. If you know her as I have, you will realize that this is just a very minuscule tip of the enormous iceberg of talent lurking underneath the surface.

That doesn’t mean that she isn’t fun. What it does mean is that she has the ability to separate the serious from the silly, to know exactly the difference between cerebral and crazy.

As she steps into a new year, a new age, I can only expect that she will achieve everything she sets out to do and more. And I hope she does plan the much promised trip to the USA!

Happy birthday, girl."

And how could anything be complete without the wisdom and insanity of the High Priestess of the Temple of Crazy and Her Royal Madness, Catty? So she wrote:

"jab we met: the story... as most stories... is different...
loca had done a piece abt this new blogger from london who was looking for other blog-pals. and i, who NEVER ever click on links *dewey will vouch for that*, clicked on it and reached DDD.
i read her for a while, commented *NOT the random comments i leave these days... relevant-to-post-comments*, then got busy with that thing called life. then, all of a sudden, i was to go to london for a work stint... and i wasn't sure abt the whole deal. bijli kadki... realization dawned... and i went back to dewey's *again, from loca's*... and left her a rather vague comment asking if she'd mind helping me out.
i got an instant reply... like she were waiting for my mail... the rest, as they say, is history. she was there at the airport *altho, an hour and half late* to greet a nearing-panic me. she found me a place to stay and made sure that i never... not for a day... felt lonely in the strange new country. for that itself, i can adopt her.

she sings songs for me on FB. sends me nagging offlines, mails and scraps. ALL if i'm not online for ONE day. no, it doesn't annoy me. it makes me feel rather special... coz i know she means it! reason # 2 why i could adopt her... i doubt anybody else misses me as much. and yes, she DOES get points for being so darned vocal abt it! :)

it's rare that i get along with anyone this well... and it's even more rare that she doesn't annoy me. never ever. in fact, no matter how blue i'm feeling, if she's online, i'll login for 10 mins... JUST to say hi to her. and that, in itself brightens my day considerably.

right now... in the midst of a lovely xmas holiday, here i am.. ignoring my mom, unreturned phone calls and the man i married... to write this piece for her. bcoz i hope it'll bring a smile to her already lovely face. and that, is worth ALL the effort.
and of course, i have to sing a song for you... so i shall repeat what you'd set as ur FB status, dewey:
door kahiin jab din dhal jaaye,
lovely dewey... b'day manaaye... khaana khilaaye...

here's wishing you a wonderful bday! and hoping that you get LOADS of lovely gifts!
love you loads child... come over soon. we'll have a blast, i promise. and yes, i will still label ur wedding album as "ek vivaah aisa bhi". no matter when you get married!
MUAH"

Did I not say, fantastic day and year? Oh, hang on.

Hey, Cosmos! You're fabulous!

I certainly would not have done such a post another time.

*the voice of culinary authority [between us three], who is a pretty good cook [alert, is MALE], informed me that it was NOT pulao unless everything was cooked at once, not rice added to masala as was my chosen recipe.

The Newly Marrieds

It had been a few weeks since they'd gotten married. All their time together before and anticipation of what was to come had not prepared them for the reality of it. Much like any other newly married couple, they were navigating what looked like an area littered with landmines. Occasionally they'd step on one. Or just about miss. Mostly though, they seemed to float on air and live in a state of bliss.

It was a weekend morning. She'd let him snooze while she woke up before him and pottered about. There was something about these mornings, they made her restless. She couldn't fathom sleeping in ... maybe it was because they afforded her those few rare and precious opportunities for absolute 'me time' with the added bonus of the house being inhabited but quiet and dewy fresh out.

Having sorted her beauty regimen (goodness, she really hadn't had much time lately had she?!), she decided it was time to wake her husband up and made her way to their room. And paused. Their room? Wow ... that sure sounded ... strange. And there he was. Her husband. Geez ... that sounded stranger, she still couldn't get used to it. But the sight of him fast asleep there, very much within reach, this she could get used to. She couldn't have enough of that.

Smiling fondly she reached over and caressing his hair called to him to wake up.

He opened his eyes drowsily, smiled sleepily, opened his eyes fully ... and SCREAMED.

"What the hell did you do that for?!" he demanded.

"What ... what ... I ... huh ... uh ... what?!" was all she could sputter putting a hand to her forehead. Where her fingers found the set face mask she'd applied earlier.

Oh the joys of being married!

And of course, as Murphy's Law would have it, they had guests and someone ventured to ask if everything was okay.

"Oh yes, yes" said the new wife of a few weeks "He .. uh ... saw a cockroach."

Sound Advice

I happened to be given a dinky cd-player/radio as a Christmas present, sort of. So I took it home finally and as is my habit, I had my earphones on since I was travelling and all. I attracted a fair few curious looks and half expected someone to come up to me and say

"Hey love, there's no need to carry that thing around you know? They've got these music players these days that are about the size of a postage stamp. Maybe put that on your Christmas wish list."

I'd have laughed. I would! And maybe then replied with "Blimey! You don't say!"

Comfort

has a shelf life

To be heard and not seen

I miss the days of ICQ and random chat rooms.

All that anonymity was very comforting, a lot of times. Being able to say something at random, ramble on and then vanish without a trace, move on, with hardly a chance of bumping into the person you spilled the beans to, ever again ... reassuring. In my little bubble anyway.

And I don't intend 'beans' to mean salacious secrets that I do not want to voice before the world, attaching my identity to them. I mean random inconsequential things which I just want to say without having the burden of recognition tagged to them. I want to be able to simply throw my thoughts to the wind and let them go where they do, do their own thing but not come back to me. I want to be able to throw caution to the wind and simply voice.

I know, I have a blog. A (fairly) anonymous blog. Which serves the purpose quite well most days. But even then, it still has an identity. Here, I am DewdropDream. Who, in reality, could be anyone. But is still someone, tangible in some obscure way. Some days, I don't want that either.

A number of people who read this know me outside the virtual world. And just occasionally it annoys me. I tell myself it was a momentary lapse of judgement to have let them come here. I'm sorry, but I do feel that way. Heck, I'm sometimes very glad that not everybody who reads, comments. Those are the days I do not want to know who it is that I'm addressing. I do not want a name, face, link to tag you with. I don't want to know. I want to be able to just let go and finish it at that. I don't want to have it known that I was behind whatever random point it is. I like pretending there is no one around listening, reading, assimilating ... wanting to take it further.

Some days, I really and truly want to be nobody.

Chewing it over

Eve must have had a moment or two of hesitation and indecision before she bit into the apple. A moment or two when she weighed her options, thought about what it might be like after ... hell, thought about what it tasted like and if she would like it.

I currently feel like Eve must have, with all this Twilight frenzy around. And which smart-ass decided to put an apple on the cover, I'd like to ask.

It's sort of been on my radar for a bit, it isn't really something one can ignore, what with all the posters popping up in your face as you amble in the city and enough people on buses and trains reading copies of the blighted books.

However, thus far I have resisted. I read Stephen King lampoon the writing* and what other bits I read about the book and the movie said it had an annoying whiny heroine and the acting was bad. I like my heroines to be feisty and spunky and my movies to be convincing. So that's pretty much ruled it out for me so far.

But, I find that I'm slowly being drawn to the edge. I've read enough moxed reviews by now to confuse me into this "To bite or not to bite" state. Pitu says she liked the movie. Twisted DNA's opinion intrigued me even as I gave in to hilarity. The Bride weighs its pros and cons and I do think she makes a fair point. Agent Green Glass isn't very impressed and Metrostudent, on the other hand, is recovering from a forced outing to view the new movie and doesn't feel so kindly towards it:

Verdict – Bella gets herself a new fella (YAWN – AGAIN). He’s not a drug-seller. The Title of ‘New Moon’ is yeller. Please hide this film somewhere where we can’t see it – like a coal cellar.

Sheer brilliance that, I say!

Marina Hyde, one of my favourite Guardian columnists, warns that resistance is futile. The commenters are pretty evenly divided between loving it and hating it. Oh and there's enough feminist musing in there.

"I've seen so many people, usually feminists, say the books are anti-female and promote weakness in woman and in my opinion, that is the total opposite of what they do. Bella is a very strong character, who in the end, saves everyone, including Edward. Most girls Bella's age feel insecure about themselves, but Edward never tries to make her feel that way, he thinks she is WAY too good for him. I've never been able to figure out why people hate twilight so much. You don't have to like it, but what's wrong with a love story, that also promotes abstinence before marriage and family unity. As a mother, I love it." is the response of one woman.

A few comments down someone else says "I do think the whole thing is interesting, but I lack the heart and soul of twelve year old girl." and continues with "I'd like to think the attraction was looking at boys' naked bellies, but sadly I really think it's because these days teenage girls have turned into World of Warcraft playing nerds. I don't really think encouraging abstinence among teenagers is such a good thing. There's nothing worse than awkward ageing virgins in their 20s, or God forbid, in their 30s."

There is also all this talk of Taylor Lautner's abs ("... the main attraction of the new film is Taylor Lautner's amazing abs" ) and Robert Pattison's dishy looks("I'm a 21 year old heterosexual male and I can appreciate that Robert Pattinson is indeed a very pretty fellow") (and I can see the google searches landing people on this page now ... you eye-candy hungry people, you!). Now, I don't give two hoots about Taylor Lautner's abs or Robertson whatsisname (On one of those days when my tongue was more scathing than usual, I was heard to remark 'Bite me?! I'd ask to see a dentist's certificate before I let him so much as smile at me' ... in all fairness, I just wanted to use that line :P) ... but it's making me wonder if I should. I mean, the guy looks like a boy-band member what wit his laal lipstick and too much foundation and last time I checked it was babyface wtchoocallim (Nick Carter, yeah I know his name, rite of passge and all that jazz) ... he was wearing pink lipstick (although it might've been enhanced with photoshop) point being ... I am actually paying attention to teenage sucker phase thingy.

Hell, I even checked out the Guardian's photo-narrative on the new faces in the new movie and the comments about people forgetting red-eye reduction functions on new cameras and something about "another of those blighters" cracked me up but it told me the movie has Dakota Fanning, who, other than having grown up into one helluva cute teenager, shares her name with one of my favourite songs.

I'm not exactly going about kissing posters of Robert Pattison on the underground ... but I'm very nearly sucked into this whirlpool of silliness.


Forget Twilight, place your bets. Will I bite? Will I get bitten? Fate, is it written?



*not that I have a very good opinion of Stephen King and not that his opinion matters much ... be as it may that he's considered a good writer, I find his constant allusion to his work and his belief in his greatness rather tiresome. I prefer authors who possess a modicum of humility.

The Evolution of Racoon-Man

I've been people watching a whole lot lately, on the tube.
It's astonishing how every single person there seems to have dark-circles, puffy eyes and papery bags under their eyes. Even the tourists!*
I'm just wondering, what if dark-circles and puffy eyes somehow become an element of evolution and our descendants sport ghastly bags under their eyes?!
Worse, what if people suddenly accept dark circles as a norm and the next thing you know someone's coming out with eye-bag glitter and jewellery!

*Shelly (not her real name), my housemate, says it's 'Transference' — even if you're calm as such, all the surrounding tension and stress can really get to you.

Put-downable

It occurred to me that over the years I'd heard some real gems in the way of put-downs. Some of them are downright mean but they make me laugh when I think of them and let's face it, mean-funny is something all of us have known, at some point or other.

"Ivna mukha nodidre moor dina oota seralla" (He has a face that would make you lose your appetite for three days). Courtesy a childhood friend who had started junior college then, commenting about all those road romeos found leering at girls outside her women only college.

"Yaar iva hanigi maarava?" (Who's this guy? Looks like one of those comb-sellers on the street). This one is courtesy the family. Ma happened to use it the first time she saw Hrithik Roshan and elicited a 'That's HRITHIK ROSHAN ma!' reaction from a very scandalised brother. She continued to refer to him as 'Rutvik' for a while ... I am pretty sure she did that just to annoy us :P

"Vadak tambigi" (literally 'broken tumbler'). Another family contribution. Most often used to refer to Sunil Shetty by one of my uncles.

"Humara standard itna low nahi hai ki hum tumko bhav dega". The younger sister of a friend, when some random guy tried to chat her up.

"Would you date a dinosaur then if you were mentally compatible?". The brother to some guy who'd been droning on and on and on about mental compatibility. You may be sure 'mental compatibility' is one term we never use in any relationship talk :P

"Why?" One of my cousins. A rather good looking girl, she frequently had guys approach her and do the "I know of you through so and so blah blah blah blah blah blah ... can we be friends/will you be friends with me?" routine. Unluckily for them they never had an answer to her rather simple and (fairly innocent) query.

Edited to add:

"Chatri nan magane!" Okay I don't really know the meaning of this one (help? someone? translate pliss?) and I'm not entirely sure but it might be offensive. This one cracks me up BIG TIME thanks to the scene that I associate with it, stuck in my mind indelibly.

I must have been in third standard. In my class were two kids. Rakesh and Shilpa. Shilpa was a chubby cheeked, somewhat short, usually calm and collected little girl. Rakesh was the quintessential school-boy imp ... always upto mischief, annoying other people. Rakesh and Shilpa had the misfortune of being seated next to each other that year. They seemed to get on okay most days, a skirmish here and there did nothing to make the teacher separate them.

Shilpa used to carry an umbrella to school rather religiously. And she'd tuck it in that space below the desk where we used to keep our schoolbags. One fine day, Rakesh was having a case of itchy hands more than usual and simply could not stop fiddling. After he had attempted to manhandle Shilpa's umbrella for the umpteenth time, she really lost it and yanking it out of its place brandished it over his head and scolded "Chatri nan magane!"

The normally rambunctious Rakesh was reduced to shocked disbelief and his face grew really small. To this day, "chatri nan magane" evokes that face of his, as Shilpa is brandishing her umbrella and reduces me to giggles. What was I doing all this time? Oh I was sat at a distance wathing the tableau ... evidently I was observant AND have good memory.

Knowing

"Sometimes the mystery is better than the knowing, wouldn't you say? Sometimes the journey is better than the destination"

The last thing you'd associate with such profound philosophy is swearing. Or maybe one does. I can't say for sure.

As swear words go, 'Limone' doesn't do too badly. In fact, I think I can recall the usage of 'Lemon' in some Regency book or other as abuse. It wins also due to its inability to make me laugh while swearing at someone — unlike 'Paperskull!' or even 'Hog Dandruff!'

And whilst we're on the subject of swearwords, here's to the chap who taught me beauties such as 'Anoncephalus', 'Gluteus maximus' and 'Gluteocephalus'.

Happy Birthday Treetop!

Of Firsts

It's easy enough for us present day humans — we know a dream's a dream. Or a nightmare. We can deal with those ... thrashing about, screaming, waking up drenched in sweat or continuing to sleep blissfully with only a beatific smile to punctuate the sequence. And very often being woken up rather rudely just as something pleasant is about to happen. But wake up we do, eventually, knowing whatever it was was only a temporary interlude — sometimes remembering, sometimes forgetting.

If you're me, you also wonder which really is the dream and what is reality.

But what of the very first human who had the very first dream? What did he/she react like?

Or are dreams something that have been programmed into the brain patterns of our animal ancestors such that the first human reacted the same way that we do?


P.S: For those still interested (I'm looking at you especially, Catty), I've picked up The Tale of Genji again. It's going really slow I'm afraid, it's not exactly a page turner and all the footnotes and things keep distracting me. Not to mention the fact that all Genji seems to do is sleep around and behave like a little boy. I know, this is what I signed up for but it'll take a while to finish. It's a 1100 odd page book, the last one I read this size or close to it was World Without End and Amazon tells me that was only 816 pages. But I've got pretty haikus and phrases to keep me interested. I would tell you I'm making notes as I go along but I am not. I like to read when I read, not fuss about making notes and nonsense. So in that sense the 'review' is going to be from the heart and straight off the bat, and take ages. Maybe the next ten years. If I'm not dead by then. Or lose my copy. Or something.

All that glitters ...

'Knight in shining armour' is a rather suspect expression in my very humble opinion.

A veteran knight would certainly have fought many a battle and would in all probability have well used armour. Which leads to the conclusion that it would be a rookie who'd have shiny armour. And what really are the chances of him being gifted enough to fight skilfully?

On the other hand, if it's a long-timer who has shiny armour, you may be certain that he's got someone keeping it shiny for him. In all probability a woman who is grumbling while doing aforesaid shine-maintenance.

Which leaves me to wonder, why the heck would anyone want a knight in shining armour?

Tag, Tagger, Tagged

1.What is your current obsession ?

Neil Gaiman's work. The new graphics tablet at work. And buying presents for the family.

2. What are you wearing today?

Pyjamas. It's been a long day alright, gimme a break!

3. What’s for dinner?

No, the question is, who's making it?

4. What’s the last thing you bought?

Oooooo ... erm, shower gel, conditioner, lotion, lipstick and nailpolish for mommy, art supplies, books, DVDs ...

5. What are you listening to right now?

Right NOW? The housemates talking and the canine shredding her squeaky toy. Else it's been Lata Mangeshkar and loads of Stereophonics, Oasis, Coldplay and Muse. And L. Subramaniam.

6. What do you think about the person who tagged you?

Oh she certainly does interesting tags!

7. If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?

I hear Nice is very nice. Or even Geneva. Gimme a few years and I'll be all ready to move back home to my parents' house :D

8. What are your must-have pieces for summer?

EH?! I don't really think of shopping in those terms, thank you very much!

9. If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?

I'd visit Catty :D

10. Which language do you want to learn?

Italiano! Era squisita!

11. What’s your favourite quote?

Zaphod: I'm a pretty dangerous dude when I'm cornered.
Ford: Yeah, you go to pieces so fast people get hit by the shrapnel.

12. Who do you want to meet right now?

C, beshteshteshtesht frand and the sister I don't have. I want to hear all about her brand new married life and her PG and generally have a looooooooooooong talk.

13. What is your favourite colour?

Bleuuwww :D

14. What is your favourite piece of clothing in your own closet?

Whatever I've bought recently I guess.

15. What is your dream job?

I'm in the industry I wanted to be in. Hereon it's free territory to be explored.

16. What’s your favourite magazine?

Reader's Digest between the 60s and 80s.

17. If you had $100 now, what would you spend it on?

Books. Or more presents.

18. What do you consider a fashion faux pas?

Following fashion trends because they're 'in' right now. Ever heard of thinking for yourself and having a personal style? Actually, fashion be damned!

19. Who according to you is the most over-rated style icon?

Aren't they all? It's not like they have much to do with it anyway, they've almost all got stylists working for them.

20. What kind of haircut do you prefer?

I'm forced to stick to the one I have because I'm yet to find something radically good that is easy to maintain. Meh

21. What are you going to do after this?

Sleep.

22. What are your favourite movies?

Stardust. Death At A Funeral. Ice Age, all three parts. Madagascar. Bridge to Terabithia. Okay I'm a cinema ignoramus. Shoot me.

23. What are three cosmetic/makeup/perfume products that you can't live without?

Put like that, I will adopt a high and mighty tone and tell you I can live without dependence on anything, thank you very much. I use moisturiser for my face, scrub, body lotion and the tiniest hint of lip gloss when I can be arsed to.

24. What inspires you ?

Beauty. Sadness. Truth ... mostly, reflection.

25. Give us three styling tips that always work for you:

Pass.

26. What do you do when you “have nothing to wear” (even though your closet’s packed)?

A) Call mom and tell her to parcel some gunny bags which I will cut holes out of and wear as a dress.
B) Call in sick and stay home in my pyjamas.
C) Go out in my pyjamas.

What do you think I do?! I usually have a back up ready.

27. Coffee or tea?

Depends.

28. What do you do when you are feeling low or terribly depressed?

Shut myself out from the world. Retreat behind a book and bury my nose in it (it's been To Kill a Mockingbird behind whose pages I have examined my life a lot of times but of late Stardust has served the purpose just as well). Talk to someone, depending on what bothers me.

29. What is the meaning of your name?

DewdropDream? Self-explanatory I think :) I was once told my non-blogger name means 'Yet to bloom'.

30. Which other blogs do you love visiting?

Refer to list.

31. Favorite Dessert/Sweet?

Will eat almost everything except petha and jalebis.

32. Favorite Season ?

Spring

33. If I come to your house now, what would u cook for me?

It's bed time and you want me to cook for you? I've got pasta. Or Maggi. Or Uttapam mix.

34. What is the right way to avoid people who purposefully hurt you?

Give them the cold shoulder. I'm working on the being mean to them bit.

35. What are you afraid of the most?

Being made a fool of. I think.

36. My Question: Is it possible to be in love with two persons simultaneously??

Yeah I guess so. Possible, yes. Practical? Probably not. What was that about what you do being the thing that mattered and all the other platitudes about love one usually hears. All those.

Ya wanna da tag? Take-a da tag!

What are you looking at?

There's nothing here to see.

The party is happening at Galadriel's. And I am a guest. YOU on the other hand should hop over and wish the Lady of Lorien a Happy Birthday and join in the festivities (kick-ass sambhar to be had!). Off you go now ... Scram!

Resistance is Futile

Well what do you know.

I'm used to people looking at me like I am a new species of bacteria under the microscope. Make that a mentally deranged, smug bacteria. All because I am not doing anything IT related and did not take up engineering like most of my friends did.

What I am not used to is having this IT stuff creep into my brain stealthily such that I suddenly begin to talk fairly intelligibly about it and have people give me 'Wow! How on earth did you know that? WHY do you know that?' looks. I mean! It's nice, this near-respect I am getting but I guess the only explanation would be that I am Indian and we Indians are born with this stuff coded into our brains and in our genes. I am telling them that. I so am.

And despite making an active effort to not spend too much time on the computer, keeping my laptop in the living room and not switching it on every evening when I get home from work, not blogging half as much, guess what? I apparently still spend a lot of time with computers.

Recently, it dawned on me that heard the typical routine hum of a computer, (like when it comes on after being on stand-by?) rather regularly. One fine day it happened and there was no computer in sight. Turns out it was me.

:|

Edited to add: Okay so I don't get MATLAB even now but so what? :P

Of Great Bosses and Good-byes

My boss left the company yesterday after five years of working here, to follow his dreams.

Now I know many people can only ever complain about their bosses but I am not one of them. I have always been fortunate enough to have bosses who have been nice, patient, kind and easygoing.

DH though was something else again. It's astonishing just how much one can get used to someone in the space of just two years, even if all you're doing is seeing them for eight hours everyday when you work, sharing very little of anything of your life beyond work.

And now that the new one is here and I have to occasionally offer a little help regarding how things function here, I am surprised at just how much I seem to be speaking and behaving like the old one! I guess I am easily influenced then. But really lucky I had someone like DH to be influenced by.

So DH, here's to you. Here's to people like you and bosses like you. May your kind flourish! You really were the best boss I have ever had. Thank you for everything, you've taught me well and I hope you feel proud for having done so. It seems a little strange without you around. you will be missed a whole lot. But I hope you have a fantastic life and that all your dreams come true.

It's only been a day so it's still too early but I'm hoping to get the New Boss settle into a routine of the occasional random chat in the middle of work very soon. I'm not having some things change if I can help it ;)

Against All Odds

Heart-wrenching sobs. They’d stop for about five seconds and then start afresh, more intense than before. It had been like this for a few days now. Even by her standards this was quite bad. And all for someone who had so not been worth it. Hell, she’d seen them all and this one had been the worst of the lot, no kidding. Lord knows how she fell or him or any of the others. All those sweet nothings and hours of meaningless promises perhaps. You’d think she’d have learned to err on the side of caution by now, but no. She continued down the same path, up again after another fall, oblivious to past mistakes and learning, forgetting what had transpired. You could almost have admired her ability to pick herself up, dust herself off and carry on, but honestly, after a time, it started to appear stupid.

Sila. Surely it was some sort of a sick joke. It was a name that seemed designed to invite trouble. Oh it also attracted men by the droves. But maybe it was fate that only the defective of that lot seemed to win the lottery that was Sila. Till they wasted it, of course. Sila of the virtues that the most exacting of people would be pleased with. Sila.

Dark eyes watched Sila. Eyes that flashed with anger. When they were not looking stormy with trying to accommodate the million emotions they felt on seeing her bunched like this, crying fit to die of sadness. Eyes that held a lot of love for her and some other emotion which seemed to be locked away, an emotion that you could spot if you looked out of the corner of your eye but was out of reach when you tried to focus. One that would always only be a sort of frission, never a concrete tangible thing. At least to the world, because the possessor of those eyes knew exactly what it was.

Tidying up the table of stray books, she gave vent to a sigh that had been lurking within for a while. And allowed her thoughts to run because reining them anymore threatened her stability.

How had she landed in this mess? It was difficult enough for most people in her situation but she’d gone several steps ahead and gotten enmeshed in a snafu that took the cake. Not that one could really ever have a say in these things. It had been hard enough realizing she was lesbian. Coming out to the people who mattered had been another hurdle altogether. But that had been dealt with and she’d received unconditional support from those who mattered, Sila included. Which had been wonderful. Until of course, things changed.

Love is hard at the best of times. But try being lesbian and then try being in love with your best friend. Who is most definitely NOT a lesbian. If that isn’t enough, try simply having to stand-by while said best friend goes about fantastically fucking up her life by going out with all the wrong men and having her heart broken more or less incessantly (Men weren’t all bad, strange perhaps but there were a decent few around. But WHY did she have to end up seeing all the pond-scum samples?!!). Try having to do nothing but offer a shoulder and a hanky and cups of hot chocolate and staying up nights while she weeps down the phone. And try having to sit through the worst kind of romantic comedies. And when that is over, try having to live trough another round of blush-giggle-gush-he’s so awesome!-I’m in love!-yada-yada until (sigh) the cycle turns around and it’s back to the weeping heartbreak. Rinse and repeat. And all this while, try having to work really really really hard at having to keep that overpowering rush of love you feel for her under check. Try having to live in so checked a manner that even when senseless drunk, that one part of you stays locked up in a straitjacket with duct tape over your mouth.

There wasn’t a guarantee that she and Sila would have never quarreled and lived a happy life forever. It wasn’t that she thought Sila had a better chance with her than any man. It was just that she loved Sila. Truly, madly, deeply, overwhelmingly … inexplicably.

Sila. She was bound to have the world fall in love with her. And her best friend just happened to be a part of it.

Des-crimination

One of my dearest chums D (not popular blogger D, another D I know in person and has been mentioned here before) has started blogging recently and sweetly wrote me a guest post (seeing as how of late I find it hard to come up with two lines worthy of being written down). Off you go to read that:

Thanks DewD for the honour of writing a guest post for you! [Aw man, too much credit you give me! The pleasure's all mine babe, thank YOU! :)]

So here it rolls -

A couple of months ago, I was in Mumbai. One evening I went to catch up with some old friends, had dinner and returned home in a rickshaw.

So it was 10.30pm, and as we approached my street, the driver, in his late 30s, pointed at my building.

Driver: Is that where you need to get off?
Me: Yes
Driver: See! I knew it! How do you think I know?
Me: Have you been here before? (Mr. Desperadooooooooo)
Driver: No. (Waits for me to guess again)
I have no interest in playing games at this point, so
Me: Then?
Driver: I can tell everything about the passenger just by looking at them. It comes with experience in our profession. All the 'hi-fi' people who come to this locality live in that building. That's how I know you live there.
Bloody show off! Although at this point I was tempted to lead him into making a fool of himself.
Me:Oh wow, you've got good skills
Driver: (enthusiastic now) Let me explain. For example, do you know 'Brahmand society'? I can look at a passenger and know that's where they want to go. Because people living in that society are all dark and fat. You know, the typical SOUTH INDIAN types.

WTF???!!!!

Being a south-Indian myself, I am offended at this point although I don't fit into his description. I could have given him a lecture, got into an arguement, spoken about being an Indian first and make him bite his words. Well, I choose not to. I decide to play along and teach him a lesson, in a way that he might hopefully understand.

Me: (with a very serious voice) Do you mean to say all south-Indians are dark and fat?
There is a 5-second awkward silence.
Driver:(with a scared, shaky voice) Madam, are you a south Indian?
By this time, I have got down, and searching for my wallet in my handbag
Me:(with a sarcastic chuckle) Well, it looks like you don't know everything about your passengers after all...
Driver: Sorry madam. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Please. Sorry. Actually I had not looked at you well enough, otherwise I would not have said that
Me:(but you still would have opined that throughout your life! Anyway, since you apologised...) Its OK.
Driver: (hesitating)So are you a south Indian?
Me: (handing him the fare) No
The smile of relief on his face would have brought tears of joy to his loved ones!
Driver: Thank God!
Me: (before turning and walking away in a stern voice and a straight face) I was kidding. I am what you guys would call an 'Idli sambar'. I am neither dark nor fat. (I hope you learnt your lesson today.)

His facial muscles tightened, eyes wide in horror. As I enter the elevator with this expression as my compensation, I hear another 'Sorry Madam' yelled in the background.

He was not a bad person. Neither are many. What they have is an opinion. A racist opinion. Thrusted and imposed on them by society, friends, family. Every racial group or clan has a tag - cheaters, misers, bad-dressers, cunning, and so on. Proposals are rejected in arranged marriages openly because of the skin colour. All this is inflicted by none other than fellow country-men. And we mock other countries for being racist.

How do we change this?

Romance

is like hosting a good dinner party. It's important to have the correct ambience, company, music, conversation et al. But long after the first taste of food has elicited oohs and aahs of appreciation, there must be plenty left over for seconds and thirds.

Sunday Night Reliever

One dissertation-crazed housemate.

One dog - pining for its masters and otherwise acting bonkers.

One more housemate, melancholy as can be.

A bunch of yellow calla lilies on the table, arranged haphazardly but looking cheerful and pretty.

Take two mugs. Spoon a hot chocolate mix from different brands in them and throw in a chunk of dark chocolate with hazelnuts for that magic kick. Pour in hot water and turn the mugs into containers of magic potion.

Play random romantic songs from hindi movies.

Crunch on the hazelnuts and sip on the chocolate goodness. Ahhh bliss!

Oh hang on, there's no excitement.

Right.

Cue housemate making minor whimpering sounds while pointing in horrified fascination at the huge-ass spider that's crawling across the carpet. Interrupt chocolate slurping to throw book on spider and squish it. Excitement over, back to chocolate.

NOW it's perfect.

Heal the world

I am sick of the world I happen to be living in. Sick of corrupt governments. Sick of the rich and famous abusing their wealth for selfish reasons. Sick of publicity-hungry useless eejits wyho clog the media with their unwanted crap. Sick of the media that sensationalises and fails to do its duty. Sick of decent people being given a hard time. Sick of crime. Sick of women getting the short end of the stick. Sick of the environment being violated a gazillion times over. Sick of all the wrongs that I see around me.

And yes, there is still much to look forward to: there are still rainbows and dolphins, monsoons and the smell of damp earth, smiles and sunshine, laughter and poetry, delicious food and music, languages and adventure, India and Italy ...

But it wouldn't be so bad for it all to end. I want Armageddon to come and finish the world, give it a chance to start over and do things right this time.

Common Sense

So rare, it could be considered a super power

— Quoting the Boss quoting an inspirational poster.

Homecoming

The exhaustion is rather evident in her tired eyes, almost squeezed shut as they appear. Fatigue invading every single pore after a fairly exacting day at work, she manages to get her train — heels clopping, weighed down by her bag and the rather large paperback she carries to amuse herself while travelling, ignoring the indulgent smiles of people around her who see a frowning girl in a Smurfette tee.

The paperback remains untouched on the train as her mind drifts away into random nothings. She walks, glad to be going home at last, knowing it finally is home and not just a place to sleep at night. And even though she may only be stopping briefly before she heads out again, she's content knowing she's going back to a welcoming, bright, tidy and populated home where there's music playing, the smell of delicious cooking, laughter, conversation and the prospect of lazing about in the last rays of the sun in a little green garden.

Keys ready, she opens the door and is met by two dark beady eyes looking at her with something that could almost be adoration. "Hey baby!!!" she greets. Puts her bags down and turns around to find the eyes still looking at her, a plea in them. Puzzled for a moment, something finally clicks in her mind. And in a tongue far different than anything she has ever spoken thus far, she utters the magic words.

The happy look in those eyes tells her she got them right. And having pulled on her yellow shoes to take a walk, feeling suddenly refreshed, she reflects again on what truly makes this place feel like home. She mulls over how easy it seems, delightedly smiling because she was being given a kiss and today she's being asked for more ... that home seems home because it holds the one thing she really and truly wanted:







Nope, I didn't get a dog because I got married :P I moved houses and this delightful creature belongs to my housemates. And while she's partly the reason I haven't been around of late, there was much more keeping me busy and it simply didn't feel like the right time to get back until now.

How ironic

that they say 'Time heals all wounds'

and then they also say 'Time and tide wait for none'

The stufff Heroes are made of

No not those Heroes. Or these ones (going by this conversation between Ritu and her youngest).

I rather meant the Greek kind. You know, world-famous, heartbreakingly handsome/beautiful (no wait, how many heroines did they talk of?), annoying the gods, stuffed full of derring-doo*...

And apparently, they are half-god and half-human.

I have the lovely Mukta to thank for putting me onto this particular series involving demi-god boy-hero Percy Jackson and a host of his friends and enemies in a world that revolves around Greek Gods, Titans and their minions, all relocated in modern day America.

I've finished the first three books in the series now and to sum it up very shortly... the series gets better with each book — the plot, structure, narrative, setting, characters and general feel of the books seem to get better with each new one.

Of course, if one had to explain what the series was about in about ten seconds (as would happen in conversation) one would immediately reference Harry Potter and say they are similar. But they aren't. The only reason there is a comparision is because Harry Potter happens to be a handy reference to talk about a series that involved children heroes who did wonderful things and lived in a magical world so different from what most of us are used to (and this is where I indulge myself with the thought that there actually are some of us who get to be a part of different magical universes). Harry Potter is a phenomenon. Hence, easy as a popular culture reference to explain something that might be in the same line.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians, however, deserves to be a phenomenon and I find it baffling that it isn't quite as popular as it could be. Quite honestly, in some ways this series is far better than Harry Potter in that they do not get cliched or predictable. Harry Potter was certainly imaginative, trouble is, latin names and incantations and the supposed twists in the end are far too much of a trademark to seem novel after a point. Not so with Percy Jackson. Having to work with Greek legends of yore and still fashion something that is gripping, not cliched and keeps the reader guessing is something of a stellar effot. And Rick Riordan has nailed it. There was always the danger of sounding rather patronising and the series turning into a sort of re-hash of who's who in Greek mythology, but he's managed to steer clear of these dangers and write books that are entertaining and interesting enough to be read by adults even if they were written for kids between 9 and 11.

The series starts off with The Lightning Thief where we are introduced to Percy Jackson, supposed delinquent who has been kicked out of all the schools he has attended and enrolls in a new one every year. We see him come to terms with his demi-god status, fight monsters and almost get killed, find a haven in Camp Half-Blood, grapple with the ideas of immortality, super-powers, training in special survival skills and take on a quest that is of Olympian magnitude and puts him in an audience with various gods in their modern day avtars. Much finger-biting action except the finger-biting is interrupted by explosions of laughter thanks to the numerous well places wisecracks. I mean, seriously, who addresses a Minotaur as 'ground beef' while fighting it to death?

As the first book in the series, there was much explanation required about various things. Why Olympus was now located in America, for example. The basic premise of that was that the gods have been responsible for the progress of mankind through centruries and therefore have moved with the times as humankind flourished in different eras. In other words, the gods have sustained Western Civilisation and are based in America now as it is the centre of western civilisation. Personally, I had issues with this explanation because that discounts the rest of the world that doesn't belong to the 'west'.** Coming from a land that was around before even the idea of America or the West came up, a land that has a vast and rich heritage of its own, one that rivals Greek civilisation and mythology... it's natural that I take exception to this monopolising by the 'West'. Also, I thought there was a rather distinct tone of 'America is the greatest country on the planet that the universe has ever seen' and while I understand that an author may write whatever they wish, I do think it's important to be a little more understanding of things outside your own cultural sphere when you are addressing an audience that is global.

There is this one instance in the book where Percy asks a girl at camp who her father is, assuming that her father too is a god, as his is. She replies "He's a professor at so-and-so university. What, you thought only male gods were capable of seducing mortals? How sexist is that?". I thought it was laudable, this idea if not assuming that men have the upper hand and putting it across in a book meant for children. This theme of gender equality is rather noticeable throuhought the series***. Sure it revolves around one seemingly central male character but it has two female leads who each are central to the narrative..

Other things that are dealth with very convincingly are the issue of how mortals do not seem to see gods and demi-gods or their activities (they are under the power of the Mist and essentially see exactly what they wish to see), what are the limitations of heroes/heroines/demi-gods/goddesses (they are human and god so they may be destroyed by weapons on both sides), the idea of life after death in the underworl (and this is really worth a read) and loose philosophical musings which make a lot of sense.

The Lightning Thief was well written but it felt a little unsure as if the author were testing the waters and was trying rather hard to convince readers. Specially when it starts off saying 'Don't believe me if you want to but everything I say is true and there really is such a world'. He eases up further on and really gets into the story-telling so it's not so bad... and as the books roll on, the writing is effortless, seamless, confident and very riveting.

Book two, The Sea of Monsters has Percy going off to help an old friend who is in trouble which ties in with another doomsday prediction for Olympus and the gods, while dealing with a brother who has been sprung upon him and more of the meet and greet/meet and duel with different monsters and gods.

Book three, The Titan's Curse sends Percy and his friends off on a quest to stop the Titans from overtaking Olympus, all the while being treated with suspicion because the prophecy revolves around one of them betraying Olympus.

Everytime a god is introduced in the book, the description of them and their mannerisms are just so endearing. Apollo for instance is shown as a teenager who drives a Maserati Spyder and is constantly getting up the back of his avowed maiden sister Artemis (who prefers to appear as a 12 year old girl), specially by teasing her huntresses. Aphrodite is shown to be indescribably beautiful, actually being able to manipulate love as a physical power. The gods and godesses wear modern clothes, talk slang soemtimes and are cool. Mythical creatures such as Hippocampi, Pegasi and Ophiotauri crop up and are just as delightfully sketched.

I am not sure if these books would interest and entertain anyone who has read Greek mythology but they have spurred me to read up on Greek mythology. My only gripe with the author is that the books seem too short, even though it it took me the better part of three hours to finish one. However, there doesn't seem to be a danger of the series ending quickly due to lack of plot and continuation. Which is far more than can be said of series on similar themes anywhere else.


*That is a funny word, seeing as how 'doo' is generally associated with err... crap. Maybe it was supposed to mean 'being brave enough to take risks but still crapping their pants'.

** I have issues using the term 'the West' because, as one rather prolific teacher on my media course, who really influenced my understanding of the media, explained: It isn't quite the right term. Who really did term it the West and why does the geographical position and consequent terming by this person influence the thinking of the rest of civilisation, irrespective of their respective geographial locations, specially when it is so obviously wrong?

***Maybe it's due to the fact that Greek mythology itself has never been about brushing things under the carpet or treating female characters as secondary. Goddesses such as Athena, Artemis and Aphrodite are as much about power as gods such as Apollo, Area and Hermes. Greek goddesses are not relegated to the task of looking pretty and being brainless. They DO stuff. Which includes pursuing men and having affairs if that's what they want. And none of that is treated as shameful. Aphrodite's dallying with Ares while being married to Hephaestus was an open secret. Hepheastus was mad of course and did all in his power to mock his wife and her lover but nowhere does Aphrodite or any other goddess get burdened with having to be virtuous, docile, meek, submissive or any of the other things that are so typical of female characters in Indian mythology. Really. We have goddesses of wealth and knowledge and so on and while that is good, the power to create and destroy still rests with male gods (ironic considering reproduction is a function that is largely the province of a woman) while the women have to put up with being pure and beautiful because they are female. If they are female and they get up to tricks because they are smart, they are reagarded as vamps who must be done away with. When goddesses themselves are portrayed thus, is it any wonder that female characters in epics are portrayed as delicate beings who cannot take things into their control, are simply pretty and about as useful and furniture? Any wonder that the Bharatiya Nari is expected to conform to these standards? You know what, after all, I think I can actually see why 'the West' is more progressive than the subcontinent.