Baahubali: The Real Story

Director Rajamouli's magnum opus starring Prabhas, Rana Daggubati, Anoushka and Tamanna Bhatia is shattering box office records all over the world. And it is only the beginning, Baahubali: The Conclusion will be released in 2016 and is likely to do even better. I watched it on opening weekend and was left somewhat underwhelmed. As a huge fan of the directors earlier offerings - Magadheera and Eega, I felt this wasn't his best work.

Baahubali chronicles the tale of an ousted Princeling who grows up and inadvertently stumbles upon his origins, lured by a provocatively clad apparition with hips that just won't quit to make his way past a spectacular waterfall to the forbidding mountain Kingdom that is his birthright. The film started off impressively enough before getting hopelessly enmeshed in a love story that is so bad it is embarrassing. Despite that particular hiccup, there is just enough to keep you invested in the happenings on screen thanks to fine performances from veterans like Sathyaraj and Ramya Krishnan.

The second half gets started on the flashback and just when it begins to heat up veers into an inexplicable item number and a gorgeously mounted battle sequence that teeters precariously between terrific and tedious, before limping to an abrupt ending. Its flaws notwithstanding, the film is definitely worth a watch for the jaw - dropping special effects and the care that has been lavished on it by the director and his team.

While watching the film, I kept trying to recall the story of the real Baahubali (strong - armed) and drew a blank. All that came to mind was a huge statue, the location of which I knew was at Sravana Belagola. So I looked it up and decided to share the story with those interested. It was quite fascinating and mythology lovers are sure to agree!

Baahubali is a revered figure in the Digambara Jain tradition. His father was the Tirthankara, Rishaba. There are 24 Tirthankaras and they are the founding fathers of Jainism credited with steering their follows towards nirvana by means of their holy teachings. Mahavira was the 24th and last of the Tirthankaras. Rishaba had two wives. He had a hundred sons with the first wife and the eldest one was named Bharata. His second wife bore him Baahubali. Rishaba divided his Kingdom between all his sons, though he gave a larger portion to Bharata. Not satisfied, Bharata made his brothers submit to him one by one. Baahubali alone held out, refusing to yield and the Kingdom stood on the brink of civil war and ruin.

Urged by their ministers and elders, and in the interest of preventing a bloodbath the belligerent siblings decided to slug it out mano y mano. They fought many duels which included gazing into each others eyes till one blinked (Dhrishti Yuddha), debate (Vak Yuddha), hand to hand combat (Bahu Yuddha), boxing (Mushti Yuddha), wielding staffs (Danda Yuddha) and discus (Chakra Yuddha). On and on the behemoths duelled till, Baahu lifted up his sibling and held him aloft in those mighty arms for which he was named and stood poised to turn his brains to mush. At the penultimate moment, he paused. Deeply ashamed of himself for being ready to kill his brother over a measly piece of land, Baahubali decided to exorcise his anger demons through asceticism.

Not to be left behind, Bharata took up asceticism and in the friendly spirit of sibling rivalry that had come to define their lives, Baahubali and Bharata raced each other to see who would achieve moksha first. We can safely assume that it was Baahubali who triumphed, since it is his name that has gone down in history and mythology both and he is the one in whose honour massive statues have been erected in Sravana Belagola and Udipi. Jai Baahubali!

References:
Fisher, Mary Pat. Living Religions: An Encyclopaedia of the World's Faiths. London: LB Tauris and Co Ltd. 1997
Jones, Constance A, and James D Ryan. Encyclopedia of Hinduism. NY: Infobase Publishing. 2007.
Mehta, Jodh Singh. Abu to Udaipur: Celestial Simla to City of Sunrise. Delhi: motilal Banarsidass. 1989. 

PORTRAIT OF AN ARTIST AS A FLESH AND BLOOD WOMAN

Book review of Patricia Duncker's Sophie and the Sibyl: A Victorian Romance

Sophie and the Sibyl is set in Berlin, 1872 and is a charming reimagining of the twilight years of literary powerhouse, George Eliot who unfortunately has come to be viewed with a touch of annoyance by later generations who were in all likelihood force fed Silas Marner, in the classroom thanks to an exacting literary curriculum.

In Patricia Duncker’s tale, the celebrity author is unlikely to be loved although her magnetic pull will be felt. At the outset, the lady of letters has fled to Germany to escape the scandal when she made the choice to live with a married man. Meanwhile, her German publisher, Wolfgang Duncker, orders his handsome if feckless, younger brother, Max to visit the great lady in Homburg and acquire the rights to Middlemarch. On the personal front, Max is to marry the young Countess Sophie Von Hahn who is also at the spa town. Wolfgang hopes that between them, Sophie and the Sibyl (as Max refers to Eliot) will succeed in giving his brother fresh purpose and lure him away from the brothels and gambling tables that he has taken to frequenting. And thus the three main characters take their positions for the “sexual triangle of Middlemarch” and the reader is led on a merry dance at the urging of a nameless narrator.

Duncker has a penchant for mixing fact and fiction in “outrageous ways” and her wicked ingenuity is delightful. Max is initially disappointed on meeting the Sibyl because not only is she old but ugly as well which is why he is unprepared for the powerful attraction he comes to feel for her. Sophie, who originally worships at the altar of the Sibyl, comes to loathe the lady as “La belle dame sans merci” who has her man in thrall.

In exploring the dynamics of Max’s relationship with the two women who come to define his life, as well as the narrative asides that detour into the rich landscape of historical fact and classical art, music and literature, Duncker examines the bare bones of the creative processes that birth great fiction. Drawing on her acute observations from life, and using the raw power of words, the Sibyl exorcises her personal demons by lashing out at those blessed with things she does not possess, painting them as vain and vapid creatures for whom she believes doom to be just comeuppance, denying them the happiness she herself has always felt entitled to.

The Sibyl leads a brazenly unconventional life with courage and grace, though in her books she exalts conventionality as morality and uses her formidable tools to punish characters who dare to stray. Later, she is soundly berated by a furious Sophie who pulls her up for living one life and believing in another while urging her susceptible readers to settle for self – sacrifice and subservience. Neither woman will give any quarter though and are both determined to wrest whatever they will from life, thereby sounding the clarion call for female empowerment in this intellectually enriching saga.

This review originally appeared in the New Indian Express and you can access it here.

ADDICTED TO LOVE

Book review of Ahlem Mosteghanemi's Choas of the Senses

Ahlem Mosteghanemi’s Chaos of the Senses is the second instalment in an award – winning trilogy that cemented her reputation as the bestselling female author  in the Arab world and a bona fide literary phenomenon. Set in the early 1990s at Algeria, which was being rocked by relentless political upheavals and mindless violence, the novel tackles the immortal themes of love and death, somehow infusing it with freshness and a robust heartiness.

            Hayat, the daughter of a war hero and wife of a high – ranking government official whose job it is to snuff out any threats to the ruling regime seeks to detach herself from the unfolding strife around her and the iron fist of her husband by escaping into a world of heady passion that she herself has constructed with reckless abandon within the pages of her book, content to pour out the flames of her endless desire into a river of ink.  

            When one of Hayat’s characters steps into her real world, following a bizarre collusion of strange circumstances and stranger coincidences, she sees the opportunity for the romance of a lifetime and throwing caution to the winds, rushes headlong into a torrid affair. As she herself puts it so succinctly, “... the writing process in which I’d sought refuge from life would take me, albeit obliquely back towards life itself, thrusting me into a story that would one page after another, become my own.”

            The happy blurring between the boundaries of reality and fiction takes a turn for the worse when her loyal driver of many years and a military man is killed during one of her reckless flights of fancy. But Hayat is too drunk on forbidden love and even as tragedy overtakes her homeland as well as family and threatens to consume herself as well, she is too far gone to even think of turning back.

            Sucked into a swirling vortex of tender emotion and perfect kisses, Hayat is a willing captive content to ride, “the untamed steeds of longing (that) took her to him.” Her make – believe reality is powered by the language of silence and dialogues that take on the attributes of a supremely satisfying monologue played out in the private recesses of the mind and the exquisite lovemaking has an almost masturbatory quality to it taking the reader along on her on a tumultuous ride into the stormy depths of unshackled love and the overwhelming wonder and puzzlement it engenders.

            Needless to say, in keeping with the precedent of every great love story ever written, death awaits at the final turning rather like the cold shower that has successfully doused many a heated loin and to return the player to a reality that has been stripped clean of every hint of passion, robbing it of flavour and leaving it as starkly unpalatable as ever. Thus, it is in allowing Chaos of the Senses to succumb to cliché that Mosteghanemi, succeeds in bringing it full circle.

An edited version of this review originally appeared in the New Indian Express. Check it out here.

All the Walls Around us

Book Review: Boualem Sansal's Harraga

Lovers of Enid Blyton’s The Enchanted Wood trilogy who have often wondered what it would be like to tuck into a few google buns, shock toffees and pop biscuits have only to pick up Boualem Sansal’s wonderfully evocative Harraga, which means ‘path burner’ in Arabic. This hauntingly beautiful tale about two diametrically opposing personalities, Lamia and Cherifa will make your taste – buds sing with hits of sugar as well as spice and your eyes sting with its acid bite.

            The protagonist, Lamia, is a wounded animal, having lost her parents and elder brother in quick succession. Her younger brother, Sofiane is a Harraga, who has run away from home, hoping to leave the country and find a better life or die in the process. Resigned to spending a life, licking her wounds having stockpiled more than a fair share of sorrow, she retreats to the colonial mansion she calls home. Barricaded within its crumbling confines she has only the company of the ghosts that roam free from the shackles of life if not death. By day, she is a paediatrician and it helps stave away penury, despair and encroaching madness, but barely. It is then that a pregnant waif, sent by Sofiane blows into her life like a runaway tornado. Cherifa is just as destructive and departs as quickly leaving Lamia reeling from her encounter with a prodigious force of nature.  

            The chronicle is propelled forward more on the strength of its central character, ably aided by the beauty of the prose, rather than a suspenseful succession of endless revelations. Lamia is a self – proclaimed “hateful bitch” whose prickly exterior, which could easily rival a porcupine at its most bristly, belies a tender core, spilling over with repressed passion and a mother’s endless compassion. Her scathing indictment of Algiers, which according to her is a “trollop who gives of herself the better to take”, the corrupt government that has allowed their country to go to seed and Islamists, who “dream of the glorious crimes against humanity yet to be committed” will have the reader lapping up her observations and asking for more.

            In direct contrast, Cherifa is the blithe spirit, who breezes through life, helping herself to all she needs without so much as a thank you, unmindful of the fact, that in their world, an unwed, knocked – up mother, who dresses skimpily and has no trouble picking up men even in the advanced stages of her pregnancy may well be looking at the death penalty. Like Lamia, the reader will have trouble warming to the child – woman but will eventually become fond of her for refusing to kowtow to the draconian laws of a spiteful civilization.

            Cherifa is not meant to be tied down and she flees the bonds of Lamia’s affection, leaving the latter devastated and unable to come to terms with the loneliness she had foolishly believed to be her shield. Gravitating towards the other victims, who had been affected by the tornado, one of whom is named Scheherazade, Lamia struggles in vain to recapture the moonbeam that had slipped through her fingers or at the very least figure out what had become of it, on the road leading to the enormously moving climax.

            In addition to exploring the perils of being a single, woman in a patriarchal society, extreme solitude and disillusionment with an unpalatable reality, Sansal seeks to answer his own question, “How far can your life take you when there is nothing to hold you back?” and the revelation will leave you with a lump in the throat, a smile on the lips and a fervent desire to become an honest to goodness, Harraga.  

This review was written for The New Indian Express and you can check it out here.

EVENT ALERT!

Do join me at EasyLib Koramangala for snacks and some great conversation on 21st Feb, Saturday at 5pm! Hope to see you there!

The Sweet and Sour Old Man

Book Review: Richard Ford’s Let Me Be Frank With You

When a Pulitzer Prize and PEN/Faulkner – winning author, Richard Ford returns with a new novel or rather four novellas set against the backdrop of Hurricane Sandy featuring his career – making and famously irascible character, Frank Bascombe, ominously titled Let Me Be Frank With You, it begs the question of whether the said author has retained his form or is merely flogging a dead cash cow. Ford, mercifully, sets such unseemly fears to rest soon enough as becomes a writer of his calibre.

Frank is retired, living in Haddam, NJ with his second wife and dealing with the attendant worries of a man on the wrong side of his 60s such as grappling with a problematic prostate, a certain condition called “ being fartational”, the crisis of impending death and so on. In these linked novellas, Frank, who thanks to happy happenstance was able to sit out Hurricane Sandy has to oblige an old client and visit the ruins of his former beach house, suffer through encounters with his ex – wife who has been diagnosed with Parkinson’s and lives far too close for his comfort and an old acquaintance who has a bombshell to deliver on his deathbed and in easily, what is the most poignant of the novellas Frank is visited by an African – American lady who had spent her childhood at the same house, and has returned to confront her horrifying past that has long remained buried in the basement.  

Plot takes a backseat in the rambling narrative of this ageing gent who is in no particular hurry to get anyplace but it is hardly a complaint given the richness of the writing, the fizz and pop of dark humour and precious shards of crystal – clear wisdom that are scattered liberally across Ford’s latest offering which provokes outright laughter and epiphany – filled moments in equal measure.

Like all truly memorable characters, Bascombe is far from perfect. There is a definitive touch of the unrepentant racist in him which is painfully apparent when he uses the ‘N’ word, refers to Obama’s “little black booty” even though he has voted for him or compares his Pakistani doctor’s laugh to a chimp’s and there are moments when his indifference brought on by a certain world weariness that followed the death of his son, borders on cruel. He also panders to the dirty old man stereotype when noting that the sliced fruit featured in his ex wife’s paintings were reminiscent of female genitalia “cracked open and ready for business”.

However it is hardly possible to get too mad at him when his unerring observation reveals an acuity that is often edifying. At the conclusion of his bittersweet meeting with his ex – wife, the final line says it all, “Love isn’t a thing, after all, but an endless series of endless acts.” Whether he is reassuring his wife of his love for her from beneath a sink or dryly insisting “what I mostly want to do is nothing I don’t want to do”, it is a hard task to remain impervious to his brusque charm.

This review appeared in the New Indian Express, which you can check out here. 

TEN COPIES OF KAMADEVA: THE GOD OF DESIRE UP FOR GRABS ON GOODREADS!

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Kamadeva

by Anuja Chandramouli

Giveaway ends February 14, 2015.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

My Latest Interview!!!

My interview with Bhavesh Bhimani, a noted editor, freelance journalist, cricket writer and blogger!

he Shiva trilogy, The Krishna Key, The Palace of Illusions, Ajaya, Asura, among a plethora of other books, has really helped spark a keen interest in Indian mythology among Indian readers. Another book in the same genre, ‘Arjuna- Saga of a Pandava Warrior-Prince’ by 30-year-old author Anuja Chandramouli, had created quite a buzz when it had released a couple of years back (it was listed by Amazon India as one of the top 5 books in Indian writing for the year 2013). The book, which retold the story of the epic Mahabharata from Arjuna’s perspective, met with a favourable response from readers.

And now, Anuja, who apart from being a passionate writer, is also a classical dancer and mother to two little girls, is back with her second offering: Kamadeva: The God of Desire. Very little is known about Kama, who is more renowned as the Indian version of the cupid than a standalone God in his own right. Thus, a book entirely dedicated to him should be rather interesting. In this interview, the talented author from Sivakasi, Tamil Nadu, tells us more about the book, shares her views on this current fad of Indian mythology books, elaborates a bit on her fears as a writer and much more. Read on!

You can read the excerpts right here.

Best Time Ever at the Utkal Literature Festival!

I was invited to Bhubhaneshwar for the Odisha Literature Festival organized by the New Indian Express, last year and promptly developed a soft spot for the beautiful city, designed by the German architect, Otto Konigsberger in 1946. Although not as exquisite as Pondicherry which never fails to make me feel a pang of regret that the French lost the Carnatic wars and failed to make the rest of the deep south as gorgeous as that gem of a union territory, Bhubhaneshwar has more than its fair share of charm going for it. Consequently I was thrilled when the opportunity to visit presented itself to me  via the Utkal Literature Festival. The second time around my attraction for the city of temples blossomed into full blown love.

As the tourism guides will tell you, Bhubhaneshwar completes the Swarna Tribhuja or "The Golden Triangle" of Puri (Jagannadh temple), Konark. I had already visited Puri and Konark last year. This time around I completed the triangle with a visit to the Lingaraj temple. There is no doubt about it... Kalinga architecture is absolutely incredible but it is just too bad that the walkways leading to all three destinations are choked up with all manner of refuse running the entire gamut of grossness from the filthy to the unspeakably ugly. Exactly when did Indians start embracing their inner pig with such gusto?

That major grouse aside, it was a blast exploring the city and pigging out on asli Odia street cuisine like gupchups, chicken pakodas, mutton chops, chenna poda and authentic rasogollas with fellow writers Alaka Sahani, Kavita Kane, Satyarth Nayak and Sujit Mahopatra.

The sessions were pretty interesting as well. It was a nice initiative to highlight Odia literature and writing. There were some intense moments between the Odia writers and Odias writing in English but they blew over  without anyone coming to blows over it. In my opinion, events like ULF are a great way to bridge the yawning gulf between Indians who write in English and those who are proficient in their respective regional languages. After all, writers irrespective of the langauage they prefer communicate through their stories and the good stories always transcend the words used to frame them. It is to be hoped that someday such festivals become the norm in Tamil Nadu as well where language remains a very sensitive issue.

Lastly, do check this out. It is an interview I did for the Telegraph. Really enjoyed it, although I do wish their photographer had not gone with the pic where my admittedly wonky expression has prompted a whole bunch of people to wonder aloud if I had crapped my pants! (For the record, I sorta made a face because I hate cameras and posing :( The painful part is that there were tons of other photos where I smiled sweetly for the intrusive lens or at least managed a more normal expression :) ) Oh well!

Kamadeva gets Hotter!

Kamadeva: The God of Desire was recently featured in Storizen magazine's 'Hot off the Press' section. Merci beaucoup to Mukesh Rijhwani, co - founder of Storizen for promoting Indian authors and their stories. Do take a look at it here.

"Author Anuja Chandramouli’s writing has blossomed a lot more since her last book Arjuna. The writing is so good and so different that you will wonder that is this really the second book by the author. In her first book also I liked the writing a lot but this time around it is even better and so much more different which brings a freshness to the entire story telling.
It appeared to me at certain places that the author is trying to test the limits, challenge our society and its deep-rooted beliefs in our gods and goddesses."
Abhinav Shrivastava had this and more to say about Kamadeva: The God of Desire which you can check out here.

"The best part of the book is that Anuja Chandramouli makes her characters very human. Yes, she is telling the story of the Gods, whom we hold with such reverance, yet she humanizes them in such a way that a reader can actually relate to the character and situations. The dialogue delivery in our everyday language adds to the allure of it. The book also discusses some topics that are very relevant in our society. It is very apparent that that the author has put in some quality research time while developing the plot and apllaud the author for that. The language and the narration compliments each other by maintaining a certain balance. The author has a very refined language and it is a pleasure to read her prose."
Popular blogger Debdatta Dasgupta Sahay's review of Kamadeva can be found here.

On Cutting the Crap and Dealing with India's Rape Crisis the Sensible Way!

Every time, a rape case hits the headlines which, unfortunately has become something of a norm in India today, like every self - respecting human being, I tend to froth at the mouth, nearly apoplectic with rage and wonder why castration has not been legally sanctioned as a suitable punishment for the debased creatures who prey on women. On December 16th, 2012, a horrific crime on a Delhi bus saw a brave young girl's life prematurely snuffed out and awakened the conscience of this nation. We shed tears of grief and rage when she passed and cried out for changes that needed to be implemented in a country that ought to be made safe for its daughters. Nearly two years later, very little progress has been made as evidenced by the dramatic fallout from the Uber rape case.

Women seem to be as vulnerable as ever to acid attacks, rape, molestation, and every other form of abuse. Recently, two sisters from Rohtak made waves when they fought back and found themselves cheered by just about everybody who saw the video recording of the same, which promptly went viral. This mother of two however, found little to cheer about, if the latest role society has smugly sanctioned for members of  the formerly gentler sex is that of a butt-kicking brawler. Am I supposed to raise my  little girls as though they were heading out  into a battlefield and teach them to embrace violence if they want to be safe? How can that be right?

Whereas earlier, citizens of India were criminally indifferent, now things have changed but certainly not for the better. An atmosphere of fear, mistrust and repressed anger has spread like a particularly contagious infection tainting our view of everyone and everything. The kindly milkman or the handy chauffeur are viewed through a prism of suspicion, and they, not surprisingly respond with baffled hurt which slowly becomes thinly veiled hostility. Nobody believes in India or Indians any more and the results are plainly there for everybody to see. The garbage choking the streets is nothing compared to the attitude we have adopted to our motherland which is why we spit and shit on it both literally and metaphorically.

It is awful that the philosophy of Mahatma Gandhi who preached  non - violence and showed the world how to be the better man/woman even under great adversity has been forgotten except
 when an enterprising director makes a hit film series based on his doctrines. If women felt compelled to accessorize their outfits not with sexy bags or shoes but tasers, Swiss knives, pepper spray and pearl - handled guns finished off with an attitude of extreme wariness and aggression they may as well douse themselves with blood to attract every shark circling the vicinity. A trigger - happy girl or one who is ready to dole out the slaps to every ruffian out there must in all practicality be prepared to bite the bullet or get slapped in return. Because violence begets violence and that truism simply cannot be gainsaid. If a stray Dog were to chase a cyclist, some would recommend pelting it with stones but the Gandhian way is to chuck a few doggie biscuits its way, since that way nobody would get hurt. It is the better way since it follows logically, that there is no need for little girls to be raised as warriors by paranoid parents who want their daughters to learn to outfight the brawnier sex and beat the fellas at their own game when in reality, girls should be taught to play to their strengths which thankfully need not be about emulating martial artists.

The best way to build a world to our liking  is to start at home, and despite its hideous warts and all India is home. I refuse to believe that all men are dogs. There are good, kind and decent Indian men out there and we can't let a few bad apples define our nation or force us to arm ourselves and our young ones to feel safe in our own backyard.

In recent times, there has been a clarion call for men to change their attitudes towards women. But women need to modify their thinking as well. We need to hold our heads high and do our thing without ever giving in to fear. This is our land and nobody has the right to make us feel scared, lonely, or make victims out of us. And we need to believe that all Indians are our brothers and sisters and they'll come through for us. These are troubled times but if we stand united there is no reason why we cannot emerge from this period of strife into a better tomorrow.

The Woman in Black by Susan Hills: Old Fashioned Horror at its Eerie Best

What is a book lover and a fan of the horror/ghost story genre supposed to do when the market is inundated with tedious tales about gorgeous vampires/werewolves with a penchant for manufacturing drama and making much ado about nothing? You strap yourself into a time machine and head for the past or pick up Susan Hill's "The Woman in Black", an old fashioned ghost story narrated by Arthur Kipps in a desperate bid to escape "from under the long shadow cast by the events of the past.", The narrator then proceeds to take the reader into the dread events that almost proved to be his undoing long years ago, when as a young solicitor who did not believe in ghosts he found himself in Eel Marsh House, to sort out the affairs of the recently deceased Mrs. Alice Drablow. Incidentally, the said creepy mansion is isolated from the town it is situated in, by a causeway that can only be traversed in low tide. 
Hill does full justice to the material at hand and wields her pen like a virtuoso to create a chilling atmosphere that is hauntingly beautiful but nevertheless fills even hardened horror aficionados with mounting dread that subsequently oscillates between pity (for the victim as well as persecutor) and terror.
The ghost's back story is skilfully woven and to use a somewhat perverse metaphor given the context in question it feels like digging into a particularly succulent drumstick chicken with plenty of meat and a juicy bone to gnaw upon. The road to the end is carefully constructor and even as the reader hurtles towards it with a sense of the inevitable it still packs a wallop.
"The Woman in Black" is definitely something to be prescribed for those who are heartily sick of vampires. 

"The Replacement" by Brenna Yovanoff: Too much Teenage Angst and Too Little Terror

Brenna Yovanoff's "The Replacement" has a very eerie premise. It is about babies being stolen from their cribs and replacements getting left behind mostly to sicken and die. There is an underworld, a thriving metropolis populated by the dead and not - quite dead ruled over by the Morrigan, a creepy little Princess who treats the town of Gentry to hard rock performances which are supposedly beneficial to their mutual health if not the levels of noise pollution.  Finally, a revenant, which is a reanimated corpse turns up to effect a rescue. Yet, despite the promise offered by such macabre conceits, "The Replacement' is less about thrills and chills than it is about teenage angst in all its, underwhelming, pimpled, hormone ravaged glory.
The protagonist, Mackie Doyle is a replacement who managed to survive despite his debilitating allergies to iron, blood and consecrated ground, complicated exponentially by having a Pastor for his father. When he is not yearning for a normal life he is ogling the breasts or legs of the resident high - school hottie and cursing his luck that her pierced tongue prevents him from fully exploring the wonders of her oral cavity.
Even as Mackie's troubles spiral out of control and he seeks solace in the hawthorne water coughed up by denizens of the underworld who kindly offer him surcease from his allergies in exchange for him joining their band, a potential love interest's sister is kidnapped and her replacement is hastened to an early grave. This prompts Mackie to rise to the occasion by making out with the grieving sibling and discovering his inner hero in time to square off with a dirt witch who fancies herself a God and demands fear or blood sacrifice when she is not playing with live dolls as well as the Cutter, who is a sadist/masochist who enjoys ridding the loved ones of his victims of their digits in order to get them to toe his line.
If all this sounds like a cheesy B- grade horror movie, it is probably because that is exactly what it reads like sans the titillating sight of nubile nymphs baring their cleavage or the clever manipulation of light and sound that make you jump and spill your popcorn.

YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS! BE PREPARED TO HAVE YOUR MIND BLOWN TO ITTY BITTY BITS!

You are not going to believe this but it is time to share a few more reviews with you, dear long suffering reader of mine! And if you feel a tad ill -used and cheated because of the somewhat misleading title which promised something unbelievably exciting but may not have exactly delivered don't blame me. Hyper - enthusiastic facebook users who insist on bombarding me with links that supposedly hold the key to a newly
discovered cornucopia brimming over with amazing adventure, poignant sentiment and cloying cuteness which I am apparently bound by the code of social networking to share (or else...) only to leave me stupefied by the sight of a cute baby having its bum washed and powdered by the daddy (gasp!)  are responsible for the inspiration behind that blinder of a header!

Anyways here are the reviews I mentioned. Some are kind and some less so but I love all my reviewers equally. If the above declaration brought out your inner sceptic, I welcome you to examine my nose it
remains the cute button it always was and has not shot out like Pinocchio's extremely revealing one :)

Without further ado (drum roll please!) I present the most recent reviews for Kamadeva: The God of Desire:

Uma Meenakshi on Flipkart: (She has given it 4 stars)

What I liked about the book is that characters are realistically portrayed in different shades of grey, which makes them easier to connect with. They’re also relevant to the present, even though they are mythological characters - Rati reborn as Maya had me nodding in agreement with her thought provoking feminist dialogues, the Rukmini-Maya mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship had me smiling and was something I could relate to, and the portrayal of Shambara the Asura was such that I ended up liking him more than Kama/Pradyumna. Beats me why Maya left him for Pradyumna!

Anuja has grown a lot as a writer. If Arjuna, her first book was a commendable effort, her modern day portrayal of Kamadeva is an excellent read that puts her right up there with the most promising of upcoming writers. 

You can read the rest of it here.
Balaji Sundarrajan on Goodreads (4 stars :) ):
i think the author has done a magnificent job in making this a gripping tale. anuja's command over the language helps her in maintaining the pace of the book and she manages to make even routine things sound extraordinarily interesting. the opening chapter involving the creation of kamadeva and the consequent events, is a masterpiece in my opinion. i also admired and enjoyed the chapter where the discussion about the battle of sexes & sharing of power, takes place between indra & rati. on the whole a bold & brilliant initiative. 

You can read the rest of the review here.

Blogger Itisha Niranjan Baxi of Bookish gives it 3 stars:

This book by Anuja Chandramouli (click here for a review of this author’sArjuna) is an interesting read, as it flows through time and events in the Hindu mythology with immense ease.

The book starts with the birth of Kamadeva by the sweat of Bhramha, induced by the overwhelming seduction he feels by an extraordinarily beautiful woman of his own creation – Rati. Rati is sensuous, fierce and of indomitable spirit, whereas Kama has a mellow demeanor, an incomparable charm and a calm and composed mind. A lot of other popular Devas make their appearance throughout the book, but the limelight never shifts from the protagonist duo.

For a novice in Hindu mythology, this book is a good read as it puts forth the story in a mellifluous manner.

You can read the rest here

FEMINA and I!!!!

It was quite exciting to see myself as one of the Faces of the Femina, October 13th issue, it must be admitted! They are carrying one of my short stories which has quite a long story behind it with a little author bio at the end. It has been quite the heart-warming experience with friends and relatives messaging congrats and liking it on Facebook etc.

As for the long story, my short story was originally entered in a national level short story writing competition. The top three would be given cash prizes and a few more stories deemed meritorious by the judges would be included in an anthology with the winners. There would be an event to release the book and you would get to bask in the unalloyed joy of being a published writer. I wanted the win, so bad, it made me positively reek of desperation which stinks far worse than particularly rank BO.

Unfortunately, my little minnow of a short story did not make the cut, and the loss was hard to bear especially since treacherous hope had ballooned out of all proportion to reason, after it was announced that the first round had been successfully cleared. As a consolation prize, I was told my story would be included in the anthology.

In the meantime, I had defiantly entered it in another competition which would see behemoths from a few more continents. Sometimes faith is even more foolish than hope and using the unassailable logic that my minnow had what it took to swim with the sharks, this struggling writer whose career had few things brag worthy and a whole lot, cringe worthy, made the choice to turn down the chance to have her story included in the anthology and opted instead to go for the win on an even bigger arena. Needless to say my minnow was swallowed up whole leaving me feel like a gambler who had lost way more than could be afforded.

As it turned out soul - crushing disappointment functioned as a great motivator having quashed my earlier dream of being the O Henry of my generation but not my tendency to gamble when it makes very little sense to do so. Deciding to go for broke, I started on my first novel and long story short,  now my official bio says that I am the author of Arjuna: Saga of a Pandava Warrior - Prince and Kamadeva: The God of Desire. (By the way, I am aware that it is hugely annoying to get into self - laudatory mode but at some point I'll get into self - bashing mode and then you will be hard - pressed to say which me is more annoying :) )

So much is owed to the humble little story that none of the judges liked as much as I did. Be that as it may, I am delighted to share my tale of marital discord with the readers of Femina, thanks to the discerning editors of this esteemed publication. (For the record, I did not threaten to kill myself if they refused to publish my beloved creation) Hope they love it more than those darned judges :) 

An Interview for New Asian Writing (Online Asian Literary Community) plus an Exciting Bonus!

Anuja Chandramouli is the author of Kamadeva: The God of Desire. Her first book Arjuna: Saga of a Pandava was named by Amazon India as one of the top 5 books in Indian writing for the year 2013. Contact her here.

NAW- Tell us about your book, Kamadeva. How did you get the idea for it? What is it about?

Kamadeva: The God of Desire is about one of the most enigmatic and misunderstood characters in Hindu mythology. I have lost track of the number of ribald jokes that people have taken to regaling me with, having been told that my second book is based on Kama. Many assume that I have done my take on the Kamasutra and wish to know if there are illustrations. Seriously though, my book seeks to take the reader on a ride that begins with Kama’s origins and follows the intimate contours of the tumultuous journeys he was destined to undertake – the tremendous bond of love he shared with his consort (Rati), his love affairs, the dangerous missions he performed for the Gods, his invaluable contributions to the amorous arts, the premature death that was his fate, his rebirth and what happens after.

You can read the rest right here.

And now for the best part, the icing on the cake, the fantabulous bonus you have been dreaming about etc. etc.. Find an excerpt of Kamadeva: The God of Desire right here.

This reviewer has some lovely words for Kama and moi!

Flipkart has a 4, 8 rating for Kamadeva: The God of Desire. Blogger Purnendu Chatterjee gives it 4.5! How awesome is that!

This book tells the story of Kama and about all those incidents and characters which we have never heard of. The readers will fall in love with the witty and compelling narrating style. A perfect blend of history and imagination.

You can read the rest of the review right here

Anuradha Goyal gives Kama a Wonderful Review!

Life is beautiful when the universe lets you know in its inimitably subtle manner that balance is the real God and the mystical rhythms that govern all in existence work tirelessly to even things out. This morning Kamadeva: The God of Desire received its first unabashed bashing on Goodreads. What was worse was that this particular critic added that he hardly ever gives negative reviews.I considered dissolving in tears but decided to be a man in the manner indicated by Rudyard Kipling - "If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster/ and treat those two imposters just the same", suck it up and take it on the chin. (If you are feeling perverse do check out the review right here.
Aside from stress eating and stuffing my face with biriyani and ice cream cake, I thought this particular author had behaved with suitable maturity. Almost as if the higher powers that be wished to reward my behaviour  for refraining from hunting down the critic and forcing him to love my book at gunpoint (Don't worry, I was planning to use my nephew's realistic toy gun), a Twitter search coughed up a wonderful review for Kamadeva: The God of Desire by Anuradha Goyal, author of The Mouse Charmers, blogger and travel writer. Now, I am all smiles and wondering if there is any ice cream cake left to celebrate the balance that has been returned to my world :) Yay!


Here are some of the finer points of her review: "Anuja has picked all the episodes in Puranas and Itinhaas where Kamadeva made an appearance and weaved it into a lovely story. 
I have read author’s earlier book Arjuna as well, and I think she has grown as a writer manifold. The language is smooth and it flows through the narrative – especially when there are long dialogues and never ending debates between various characters.
I enjoyed reading the book. If you like Indian mythology and the God of Desire tickles your curiosity – read it." 

You can read the entire review here.

THE ONE THING YOU CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT contest!

Hey ppl! Do check out THE ONE THING YOU CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT contest and win a signed copy of Kamadeva: The God of Desire!
There must be something in your life without which you absolutely cannot live. What is it? Send us a photo of that special something you simply cannot do without with a brief description of why you feel that way in the comments section. CHeck out this link on Facebook and be sure to participate and share with your friends: THE ONE THING YOU CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT contest

Blogger Sruti Nayani's interview avec moi!

‘Kamadeva - The God of Desire’ was an excellent read, partly due to the fact that I had not read enough of Kama and Rati. Anuja Chandrmouli seemed to come along and pick out my favourite comic books (as in ACK) and just make it her job to write them into a proper story.

There is nothing more I could ask for than this. So, you could read My Review of it and also read Anuja Chandramouli's take on the whys and hows of it...

 

Could you describe the journey of ‘Kamadeva - The God of Desire’? How did it begin? What kind of research was put into it?

This particular journey has been absolutely exhilarating to say the least! I was wrestling with a wicked bout of writer’s block after my first book, ‘Arjuna : Saga of a Pandava Warrior Prince’ and it was around that time, I succumbed to the charm and seductive lure of Kama. Before I knew it, a happy obsession with the enigmatic wielder of the Sugarcane bow and flower - tipped arrows took over my life.

Not that I am complaining. His is a fascinating story and it was a wonderful experience to gather together every precious nugget of information pertaining to him by scouring the familiar and happy hunting ground that is the wondrous world of Indian mythology.

It was even more fun to fill in the initially frustrating gaps in the narrative which no amount of research could plug with my imagination and educated guesses! So, in my book you will find that fact (if you can consider recorded myths as such!) and fiction blend harmoniously to create what one of my favourite writers – Kalki (of Ponniyin Selvan fame) referred to as faction!

You can read the rest of it here.

Blogger Sruti Nayani's Review of Kamadeva: The God of Desire

Anuja Chandramouli’s latest offering is quite different from the previous ‘Arjuna - Saga of a Pandava Warrior Prince’. I did think Arjuna reminded me of the Amar Chitra Katha version of the  ‘Mahabharata’, but that is where ‘Kamadeva - The God of Desire' is different. I remember reading enough Kamadeva in ACK but I do not think it ever carried a version, such as this.

Kudos to Chandramouli for the way, in which she describes the story, with an all new taste of wit and laughter.

You can read the rest of the review here.

Book Review: The Lives of Others by Neel Mukherjee

Neel Mukherjee’s Man Booker shortlisted, The Lives of Others is a study in skeletons. Those bony frameworks that support the human organism grinning all the while, irritatingly smug about the knowledge they have accreted about the terrifying things that lurk beyond the grave from rotting flesh and squirming maggots to the solitary journey of the soul along an unlit passage. Mukherjee concerns himself particularly with those skeletons that have been banished to the deep recesses of the closet by the Ghoshes, as bourgeois a family as they come, where the sceptre of the painful secrets they harbour need not pose a threat to the living who would rather concern themselves with the fripperies and fopperies of a superficial existence. If that were not ambitious in itself, he also ferrets out the bony remnants of the corpses that a nation released from the iron grip of the British Empire has made it a habit to relegate to the hidden chamber of wilful ignorance by slavishly catering to the demands of the very rich at the expense of those who languish below the poverty line.

            Three generations of Ghoshes live together in a four – storey house in South Calcutta feeding off the short – lived prosperity that was made possible by the patriarch, Prafullanath who built his business empire on the foundation of great personal loss, its subsequent pain and a ruthless desire to get ahead at all costs even if it meant hoodwinking a grieving widow or riding roughshod over those weaker than him. Evil omens stalk the family that is already splintering from within as the Ghosh siblings, daughters – in – law and children endlessly slug it out, incessantly jockeying for a bigger share of the family assets and increased leverage in their airless corner of the world, causing the old man to remark morosely, “I feel I have just been a conducting pipe between the bad in the past and the bad in the future.”

            Even as his family remains locked in their infernal squabbling, neck-deep in the juices of base inequities such as incestuous bonds, substance abuse, the relentless pursuit of taboo pleasure, furtive practices of forbidden sexual peccadilloes, and casual cruelty, Supratik, a young college student with his head well and truly turned by misguided idealism supplemented by his obstinate impracticality leaves home hoping to change the world by redressing the wrongs meted out to the have-nots using brute force and bloody insurrection if need be.

            Mukherjee strips his colourful array of diverse characters to the bare bones affording his readers a voyeuristic glimpse into the intimate secrets contained therein triggering shock, amazement and often, shame. For, he extends the same unflinching treatment to a country that has gone mad with greed, divesting it off the layers of hypocrisy and pretentiousness which continue to cloak it, long after the fictional events this novel chronicles from the 1960s, even as the rift widens increasingly between those who are insulated by extreme wealth and the rest who are left out in the cold. None can remain untouched by guilt for having contributed in infinitesimal ways to the class divide that has made victims out of too many to count, trapped in the knowledge “that the world is as it is, and knocking your head against its hard shell is only going to break you, not dent the world.”

            The narrative forges ahead into the thorny terrain that Supratik has chosen to traverse, to the assorted variables that led to the rise of the Maoist Naxalite guerrillas, taking the time to meander into the heart of the turmoil that is always rocking this particular household throwing into sharp focus, their petty foibles that mirrors the rot in the society that birthed them. As Supratik and his family hurtle towards their fate, melodrama rears its head and saturates the proceedings with a curious mixture of horror and disbelief, striking a few discordant notes regarding the logic underlying some of the pre - climactic events that see the inexplicable return of the prodigal son who is a wanted man bringing predictable disaster in his wake. This aside the intense action culminates in an explosive finale that will leave a chill in the heart which will not be easily dispelled.

An edited version of this review appeared in the New Indian Express, which you can check out here. 

My Interview!

When did you first realize that you wanted to be a writer/ a storyteller?

Even as a little girl, I used to have a certain knack for storytelling. My grandmother would make me tell the tale of Krishna and his defeat of the evil Kamsa to every single one of her guests and I would always get a big round of applause and a whole lot of oohs and aahs. Later at school, my friends and classmates would beg me for stories. It gave me a kick to put up a big fuss but eventually I’d give in and secretly I’d be very flattered when a big group gathered around for my little tales. Around that time, I won prizes for essay writing and the teachers used to read out samples of my writing to my classmates as well as the seniors and for the first time, I realized that this was something I could actually do well without screwing up too badly. 

That was the beginning and I guess, it was in the cards that my life would be devoted to writing and telling stories. 

How did you come up with the idea for your current story?

After the release of my first book Arjuna: Saga of a Pandava Warrior Prince, I went through a bit of a dry spell, creatively speaking. Was working on a horror story hoping to become India’s answer to Stephen King, but my efforts came to naught and I was going bonkers. My publishers approached me at the time and we tossed around a few ideas for my next book. We shortlisted Parashurama and Kama and for some strange reason, I was really drawn to the latter. Perhaps, he struck me with one of his arrows... all I know is that I became quite obsessed with Kama. It has been an amazing experience getting closer to him and writing down his story. 

You can read the rest here.

Great review on Kamadeva: The God of Desire in the New Indian Express!

Kama is deva, a god, but he hardly gets his due anymore. Agni, Vayu, Indra are all invoked with mantras on some earthly business or the other, but Kama’s name is uttered furtively and then greeted with titters. He is one half of a modern byword for pornography: Kamasutra. It is just as the god, in Anuja Chandramouli’s Kamadeva: The God of Desire, tells his stepmother, the goddess Saraswati: “It is highly unlikely that in future people will build temples in my honour or compose beautiful songs for me. I will be lucky if I am remembered enough to be featured prominently in pornographic material; worse still is the distinct possibility that the god, Kama, will be lampooned as the divine pimp!”

Anuja does not go into the ‘why’ of Kama’s fall. That is known to be an outcome of long colonial rule, for Khajuraho and countless other temples across the country testify that Kama’s business was sacred enough to grace their walls till a few hundred years ago. Victorian prudery knocked this minor god off his pedestal, but ironically, the influence he lost in India is now strongly visible in the West.

What The God of Desire does, without trying too hard, is it strips all the accumulated innuendo and salacity that have wrapped Kama over the past couple of hundred years, and shows him in many shades of grey (no pun intended). He is sensitive, sensuous, beautiful, thoughtful and even righteous.

There’s never a dull page in this history of Kamadeva...You can read the rest here.