The Fifth Child - Doris Lessing

The Fifth Child is a quick one-sitting read from the Nobel prize winner, Doris Lessing. It tells the story of David and Harriet Lovatt, who decide that the path to happiness lies in having many clever and talented children, all growing up together in a large and happy house. Their dream goes well till their fifth child, Ben, is born. It's clear from the beginning that he isn't quite human. He lacks human emotion, the other children hate him, he evokes a chill of horror in anybody who meets him.

Unputdownable is quite an apt word for this small book. It's difficult to know how to classify it, because the story doesn't quite fit into the genre of horror. It takes the reader to the edge and shows her the horrors that lie beneath, but stops short of actually terrifying her.

There is a sequel as well - Ben, in the World. The Fifth Child ends with Ben about to leave home and out into the world. The sequel seems to be about how he fares there.

The Edible Woman - Margaret Atwood

The Edible Woman is, strangely enough, the first time I'm reading Margaret Atwood. And I suppose it's an apt introduction, considering that this was the first novel she ever published.

She wrote this book when she was around the age I am right now. Despite the evidence of feminist thought in the book, she mentions in the introduction that she wrote it in the era before feminism. And her thoughts resonate well with me, in my current stage of life.

The Edible Woman is the story of Marian. Marian has just graduated from college, and is working in a company that conducts market surveys. She was dating an upcoming lawyer named Peter on the understanding that neither of them wants to get married right now. But out of the blue, Peter asks her to marry him, and she accepts. The rest of the story is about how she tries to adjust and change herself to suit Peter.

The book is in three parts. In Parts one and three, Marian writes in the first person. She has a strong voice, she knows what she wants and why she wants it. Part two is the longer part, where Marian is referred to in third person, and she goes about an increasingly strange set of situations, zombie-like. She literally runs away from Peter one night, she meets a self-centered person named Duncan and lets herself be pulled into his self-centered world, she tries to self-destruct in the strangest possible ways. Her body stops accepting food - first non-vegetarian food, and then everything.

Through it all, the reader is rooting for her. Peter isn't portrayed as a bad person. He just wants to be successful, and Marian, who is smart and presentable, will be an effective asset in his career. There was one image that particularly struck me. Peter and Marian are in bed, and Marian is lying on her tummy. Peter has placed his ashtray on Marian's back. He is smoking a post-coital cigarette and drinking a post-coital glass of alcohol. The normal Marian would have been humiliated by this use of her body as a table, but the new Marian says nothing. She gets up and makes Peter a drink when he asks for one. He removes the ashtray so that she can do that, and replaces it on her back when she lies down again.

Of course, there's the obvious question - isn't it natural to need to change yourself when you experience such a huge and important event in your life? Surely, Peter would have had to adjust as well? True. But we see Marian quitting her job, we see her body protesting her decisions, we see her entering into self-destructive friendships. It's clear that this marriage is not something she wants. This is something that she's doing because of society's expectations. And other women are jealous of her for having found such a catch so early on in life.

The book ends with another striking image.

[Begin Spoiler Alert]
Marian finally realizes what is happening to her. She bakes a sponge cake in the image of a woman, and she offers it to Peter. Peter gets the message,  and leaves. But in the final twist, the cake is finally finished by a person who is probably even worse for her than Peter.
[End Spoiler Alert]

Having liked my first taste of Atwood, I've now resolved to read more of her. Next up is her Booker prize-winning novel, The Blind Assassin. 

Winter

It smells like winter. It smells like dusty sunshine. Like naked trees and wandering leaves. It smells like hot smoky bhutta, fresh off the coals. Like morning mist and warm afternoons. Like sleeping in the sunny afternoons, and waking up for tea and samosas. Like reading in the sunshine. Like being taken aback by the beauty of the golden sunlight on the warm green leaves. Like lazing around, secure in the knowledge that tomorrow will be the same as today.

How I miss the Delhi winter. And yes, the Jamshedpur one, too.

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House Hunting in Koramangala

Nikhil and I have discovered a new dream profession. It requires zero intelligence, vast networks, and smooth talking abilities, and has good work-life balance because you only need to work in the evenings and on weekends.

It's the job of a broker.

When Nikhil and I started off on our house-hunt, we dreamt of finding a nice cozy little place. We knew the rent would be outrageous, considering we were looking at Koramangala. But we were okay with that, Double Income No Kids couple that we are. All we asked for was a place that we could come home to after work and find peace in.

Both of us had house-hunted in Bangalore earlier, and had found nice places in Koramangala with relative ease. Based on those earlier experiences, we decided not to use brokers this time. They charge a month's rent as commission from both the owner and the tenant, which struck as way too much. What was the internet for, anyway?

Till we discovered the reality. About 95% of the ads on real estate websites are posted by brokers (and half of those posting as 'owners' turn out to be brokers). No matter which site you look at - Sulekha, Magic Bricks, 99 Acres - they're all teeming with the blood-sucking leaches called brokers.

At one point, we were so desperate that we spent a rainy afternoon going back and forth along the lanes of Koramangala, searching for 'To Let' boards. A hopeless pursuit, of course, because brokers don't allow owners to put up these boards.

Finally, we gave up and called in the brokers. That was on Wednesday. Since then, we have covered every inch of Koramangala on Nikhil's bike, following young broker boys as they zip along without helmets in patched-together bikes, flouting all traffic rules, but never getting caught. We have been baked in the morning heat, we have been drenched in the afternoon rain, we have yelled at each other out of sheer frustration, we have been passed along from broker to broker like lucky coins.

The specimens of houses we have seen have been amazing. Houses with no bathrooms except a sort of servant quarters at the back (Rs 14, 000), a house that stank of dogs and made Nikhil almost throw up (Rs 11, 000), a house that stank of urine (Rs 16, 000), a house with a staircase a fat person would have trouble squeezing into (Rs 18, 000), a house a stone's throw away from a drain (Rs 19, 200).

We have seen at least 6-7 brokers during this time. Most were nice, except for one guy who took us to a place we had already discovered on our own, and then insisted that we pay him brokerage just because he told us it was still available. We're not taking the (mostly nice) house just because we don't want to pay him brokerage.

Right now, we're contemplating the Rs 19, 000 one near the drain. It's on the second floor, so we're hoping the stench of the drain won't be too much. It's a nice house, cozy, yellow, warm colours. It has an open kitchen, and a balcony that runs the entire length of the house. And the bathrooms are big enough, something which was an absolute must-have for me.

We've resigned ourselves to having to pay the brokerage. But really - does any profession pay so much for doing nothing as does brokering? You're getting paid just for your networks. And if you're in Koramangala and manage to get some 4 new tenants in a month, you're already above the Rs 1 lakh barrier. And I bet none of them pay tax either. Wow.

Swarathma

The first rain of the season. I can hear it through the window. I can smell it, though I'm closeted inside. I can feel the sweetness on my face, I can feel the wind on my arms.

I'm lost in music. Music about the rain, music about longing.

This is heaven. An image of brown earth, a red sari blowing in the wind. Loneliness, romantized. Possibilities.

Music really does make life worth it, doesn't it?

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Maps

Looking at world maps is so depressing. So many places that you'll never see in your life. Their names call out to you tantalizingly, promising music and starry nights and camp fire dancing. You're tempted, but you know that there are just too many, and you can't ever see them all. Instead, you surrender to reality, and eke out your life in a single place, a single city. Day after day, the same boredom, the same  thoughts, the same routines. Never mustering the courage to step out, lest you get swept away.

A Day in the Life

I was reading the other day about Google's Life in a Day project, where people from all over the world could submit videos on their life on July 24th. Google will now be creating a user generated film of how the world was on July 24th 2010. It's a unique project, but let me tell Google how the world is today. Well, not today - every day.

All of us, we have our dreams, our desires. I want to go to Hawaii, I want to buy her some diamonds, I wish I were that girl. No matter how big those dreams are, they get lost some time or the other. The world passes us by, uncaring. We have our little worries, our little tensions. Will I get my hike? Will she go out with me? Will my book get published? They don't matter, because nobody will remember them.

People were happy today. People were exploited today. People got married and had children today. People died today. People saw rainbows in the sky today. People watched today's sunset and thought, "I'll never be this happy ever again." People kissed and hugged and held hands and told each other they loved each other. People were asked for enormous bribes today. People lost their lands to uncaring governments today. People started new exercise plans today. People's stomachs rumbled of hunger today. People fell in love with a book today. People sat in closed rooms today and waited for someone to rescue them from their loneliness. People forgot to water their plants today. People sat outside their homes and idly chatted with their neighbours today. People were nostalgic about the sixties today. People bought new clothes at discount sales today. People sang aloud today out of sheer joy today. People flunked exams today. People slipped on banana skins today. People...

It doesn't matter, at the end of the day.