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BEHIND THE BEAUTIFUL FOREVERS by KATHERINE BOO

2012, Indian Authors, Non Fiction, Reviews 2 Responses »

Mar 282012

There have been few books that have moved me as much as this extraordinary book by the Pulitzer prize winning journalist Katherine Boo.

It is a stunning read, and one that every thinking Indian should read - well, not just Indians, everyone who has a heart and a conscience should read it, but to Indians it will have a special resonance. And it should be mandatory for everyone in Mumbai.

Ms Boo chronicles the lives of some of the dwellers of Annawadi, a Mumbai slum, close by the airport but a lifetime apart from the world of travel and hotels and leisure as it is possible to imagine.

As a respected, award-winning journalist, Ms Boo invested years in this book, visiting the slum so frequently that the inhabitants soon ceased really noticing her as an outsider. They all had their tragically difficult lives to get on with, scraping together every paise they could find to try and keep body and soul together, so there was little time for sitting and staring at a foreigner.

And so, for years, Ms Boo visited, talked, watched, observed, interviewed, recorded, filmed, checked, cross-checked - and then some.

And the result is this amazing expose of life at the bottom of the pile. Literally, since we meet scavengers, children who collect rubbish for a living. We meet people who have a just-about home – rickety huts next to mounds of sewage. Life doesn’t get much worse than in Annawadi.

Ms. Boo’s narrative is quite simply extraordinary, when you realise (and this is not a plot spoiler, by the way) that her book is not a work of fiction, but 100% pure fact. Everyone of those slum dwellers, corrupt officials, bribe-taking policemen, venal nursing staff - every man jack of the exists. And is named.

This book pushes reporting about poverty and corruption in India to a whole new level.

And throughout this compelling, albeit oftentimes heart-breaking chronicle, you never for a moment glimpse the presence of the writer, Ms Boo. She does not insert herself into the narrative for even a fleeting moment. She sits, listens, observes and lets the children and adults of Annawadi do the talking.

And how they talk. Here is the ambitious Asha, who sees politics as the way out of the desperate poverty of the slum :

Her dutiful daughter Manju, the girl hoping to be the first female graduate from the slum, studies hard, though often not really undertsanding everything she is being supposedly taught. So she “by-hearts” everything :

Asha is the ultimate pragmatist, banking everything on the success of her daughter, for who she has words of advice :

The inhabitants of this appalling slum lead equally appalling lives of deprivation and degradation, tempered by a weary awareness that there may well be a better world out there. It’s just not for them. They see the airport and the airport hotels and the flashy cars, but always through the prism of what rubbish and garbage this brave new glittering world may leave behind for them, the bottom of the social pile. The rag-pickers and scavengers.

I have to say that after reading this sensational book, I look at the filth and rubbish that lies all around my Delhi nighbourhood with a slightly different view. I loathe the rubbish. But then again, I would, wouldn’t I ? It is a blight for me, not a business opportunity.

I found the criticism of the Cooper Hospital amazing, because 20 years ago, when I lived in what was then Bombay, I had to take the illiterate, non-Hindi-speaking wife of one of my Nepalese staff there for some unidentified stomach complaint, which our local GP couldn’t identify.

When I went to admit her, I nearly died.

A waiting room full to busting with hundreds of poor Indians, row after row after row, all waiting patiently. One tiny hole behind a thick grille into which you had to contort yourself to speak.

Everyone told me “They are closed for lunch”.

But, I hate to admit it, I played the foreign card. My woman was writing in agony, as were many other people in the waiting room, by the way. People were bleeding too.

I marched right to the head of the queue, to the quiet, weary smiles of everyone else waiting - why are Indians so consistently polite to foreigners ? - and when the person behind the thickly grilled window said, in Hindi, “Closed,” I played my second card. That’s the one where I pretend I can’t speak any Hindi, and act appallingly stupid to boot, not understanding basic hand gestures and facial expressions.

I’m not proud.

So I walked behind the counter, pushed open his cubicle door, and insisted my poor Nepalese lady got admitted.

Eventually they did admit her, mainly to get rid of me, I suspect, because I just stood there talking louder and louder, until she was taken off to the ward.

I remember we had to provide all medicines and food, and I also remember throwing a scene at the state of the bed-sheets, making them strip the filthy many-times-used ones and put clean ones on for her.

So clearly some things haven’t changed in 20 years.

I’ve told this Cooper Hospital story many times over the years, but never has it resonated the way it did when reading this book.

When the poor of Annawadi die, there is little reason to pay them any more attention in death than in life :

There isn’t an aspect of the world about them that doesn’t seem to exploit the poverty and lack of status of these slum-dwellers. The police, NGOs, hospitals, social workers, even Sister Paulette - they all abuse or ignore these people. I loved the vignette of the Congress party workers delivering manhole covers, just before the elections - and then promptly taking them back for use in another slum.

Do yourself a favour and read this amazing book. It’s not always an easy read. Beautifully written, incisively observed, but the subject matter is searing and uncomfortable at times.

“Behind the Beautiful Forevers” (the title is delicious, once you understand what it means) is published by Hamish Hamilton and the hardback costs Rs499

CRY HAVOC by SIMON MANN

2011, African authors, Non Fiction, Reviews No Responses »

Mar 232012

If ever a book needed to be a biography rather than an auto-biography, it is Simon Mann’s “Cry Havoc.”

What could have become, in the hands of a writer, a rather exciting derring-do, gung-ho type of book about white mercenaries trying to stage a coup in Africa is, instead, a badly written, profanity-laced, confusing story.

Not that I have any sympathy whatsoever with white mercenaries trying to stage a coup in Africa, you understand.

No sympathy whatsoever.

But I used to live in Africa, and was there all during that rather bizarre time when Simon Mann and his band of merry men were captured and put on trial. Given the South African angle, the fact that the coup-implicated Mark Thatcher was living in Cape Town, the whole drama played out to a slightly bemused African audience, including us. It was even rumoured, gleefully, in South Africa that Mr.Mann’s Equatorial Guinea coup plot was lifted from Frederick Forsyth’s 1974 thriller “The Dogs of War.”

So I was prepared to be open-minded.

Also, since the copy of the book I read was loaned to me by an old and dear friend of Mr. Mann, I was also possibly prepared to be a tad more sympathetic than usual.

But so alienating was the tone and style of the book, so utterly confusing was the narrative, that any flicker of sympathy was extinguished almost as soon as the book started.

This is his opening page acknowledgment, for goodness sake :

Confused ?

Mr. Mann tries, through his staccato, verb-less, effing and blinding style to portray himself as some kind of ethical saviour of the poor oppressed African blacks.

A word of warning, Mr. Mann mentions race and colour and being white a lot.

This saviour of the poor oppressed African blacks etc etc is how he talks up the previous mercenary coups he led in Sierra Leone and Angola. Yet the opening sentence of his prologue actually says it all.

“This about oil. Oil wars. In Africa mostly”

Precisely.

On the dust cover of Mr. Mann’s book is a quotation :

“When I set out to overthrow an African tyrant, I knew I would either make billions or end up getting shot…”

Precisely.

The book goes back and forth between the earlier coups and the preparations for the disastrous coup to Equatorial Guinea. A straight-line narrative would have helped clear the murky waters of politics, confusing acronyms, top-heavy descriptions of weaponry but Mr. Mann prefers to swing back and forth, rapidly losing the reader in the swirl of events and the random introduction of characters without any explanation.

The one constant in the book is his liberal use of the f word.

No-one is a prude these days, but the f word is not a consistent substitute for vocabulary :

I’ll spare you more quotations.

Mr. Mann sneers openly at the people he meets, be they African politicians :

or potential coup-backers and contacts, be they foreign :

or British :

Nor does he spare his former chum and investor, Mark Thatcher :

His dislike of his former friend knows no bounds :

“Loves to play the officer and gentleman” - harsh words from Mr. Mann, who tries to shield Mr. Thatcher later on, when he is being interrogated, because - well, because, Mr. Thatcher has connections :

The book covers in great detail Mr.Mann’s imprisonment in Zimbabwe, where the effing and blinding style gives way – just a little – to a searingly graphic account of the life he leads in prison. Mr. Mann is definitely a more sympathetic character in this section of the book, surviving what is clearly great deprivation, cruelty and terror.

And then the book stops. Just like that.

The Equatorial Guinea part of the book simply doesn’t happen.

One minute he is on a plane on the way there, terrified of facing torture and almost-guaranteed death, and then the next moment he is out, back in England with his beloved Amanda. Of his trial, he tells nothing.

Why ? Legal reasons, one presumes. Must be for the same reason that we never hear about the trial.

I never worked out who the Boss was. I thought it must be Tony Blair for a while, but am not so sure now.

Perhaps, one day, someone else will write the story of this failed coup attempt and fill in the blanks for us.

“Cry Havoc” is published by John Blake and the hardback costs £19.99

NAGA PATH by URSULA GRAHAM BOWER

Biography, Earlier, Non Fiction, Reviews, Travel 3 Responses »

Mar 162012

Before reviewing Ursula Graham Bower’s “Naga Path”, let me put a couple of things in context, so that I don’t seem to be unfairly partial towards this wonderful book.

The author’s daughter, Catriona, is a friend, and indeed we are in book club together in Delhi. So, yes, I knew a little from Catriona about her mother, but since the former is as well mannered as her mother seems to have been, there is no bragging whatsoever, so I only knew a little.

Then, in December, I went to Nagaland for the first time, to the Hornbill Festival with one of my oldest and dearest friends from Oxford, Jane, who had read the book as a teenager, and dreamed of going ever since. In fact, it was “Naga Path” that inspired Jane to go to Nagaland, and I went along for the ride, as it were.

I hadn’t quite joined the book-Jane-read-as-a-teenager and Catriona’s-mother dots, until the three of us all met in Kohima for the Festival.

I have just finished reading “Naga Path”, while holidaying in Assam, appropriately enough, and can quite understand how such a well-written, derring-do story would capture any teenager’s imagination. It captured mine, I can tell you.

Now for the facts.

Ursula Graham Bower arrived in India as a young woman, a pretty debutante who developed a passion and an unflinching love for the Naga people, in what was then Assam.

Ms Graham Bower lived for years in the late 1930s/early 1940s amongst the Zemi tribe, as an anthropologist but also as a mentor, and, for some, a reincarnation of one of their legendary heroines.

And thus the legend of the Naga Queen came into being. Ms Graham Bower seems never to have traded on the adulation and devotion of her beloved Zemi tribe, living with them in harmony, affection, occasional irritation, and much humour.

The author’s descriptive prose is little short of intoxicating, making the reader see the serried ranks of hills going on into the horizon, and smell the fire and dust and smoke. Her love for the land and the people is palpable in her writing, which is almost a love-song to the Nagas.

Ms Graham Bower’s writing makes you fall in love with the Zemis in the way she did. We meet a cast of characters whom she describes succinctly and affectionately, pointing out their foibles, their worries, their problems, with great humour and respect.

She never once patronises the Nagas, who were (for those who may not know it) head-hunters. Far from it, she is quick to point out the intelligence and wicked sense of humour of the Nagas.

One of the most delicious episodes in the book is the account of how her inseparable companion and mentor Namkia (“the old sinner”) gets himself space on the otherwise crowded train to Calcutta. Namkia stands there, resplendent in his red cloak, telling the initially packed compartment about how, during hard times, he and his wife had agonized over which of their children to kill and eat, finally deciding on the baby.

“it really was exceptionally good, most tender – boiled with chillies”

By the end of the story, Namkia is alone on the train bench, and he “spread out his bedding and slept in comfort, at full length, all the way to Calcutta : and every time a fresh entrant approached him with a hint to move over, the rest of the carriage said, as one :”Look out ! Man-eater!” and Namkia turned slowly over and murmured :”Now the last time I tasted human flesh__________”

Ms Graham Bower’s story gets more and more fascinating, since at the outbreak of World War II she becomes part of V Division, gathering information on the Japanese movements on the far north-eastern flank of India. Although the story is fascinating, this is perhaps the least compelling part of the book, since there is an awful lot of technical detail, and far less of the colour and passion of the early days.

Throughout this section of the book, the author down-plays the risks involved in her wartime work, of the dangers and discomforts in which she and her Naga companions lived. Risk of capture, torture, death at the hands of the Japanese is not mentioned, and whatever discomforts she talks about is all done in an almost breezily cheerfully stoic style. No whingeing or complaining for Ms Graham Bower.

Rather, what comes across is the good humour and resilience of this young woman leading her Naga scouts through the countryside, intelligence gathering for the Allies, in difficult terrain, with minimal supplies, and in horrid weather.

Having just read Fergal Keane’s magnificent “Road of Bones” about the siege of Kohima, one can only begin to imagine the real risks the author ran, but which she almost glosses over.

The end of the book, which came far too quickly for my liking, introduces us to her husband, and describes their delightfully impromptu marriage, following what can only be called a super-whirlwind courtship and engagement. Ms Graham Bower’s Nagas approved of her choice, and the descriptions of the ceremony they hold for the newly wed couple, as befits the woman they consider their daughter, is as moving and romantic a piece of writing as you could wish to read.

A wonderful book, which other than a few archaic terms, is as much of a joy to read today, as it was for my then teenaged friend Jane.

The only sad part of this review is the fact that this wonderful book is out of print. But do track it down in a library or from a second-hand book-shop.

It will fire your imagination, I guarantee.

DELHI 14 HISTORIC WALKS by SWAPNA LIDDLE

2011, History, Indian Authors, Non Fiction, Travel 2 Responses »

Feb 092012

Having gone on several heritage walks in Delhi led by the historian Swapna Liddle, I was particularly interested in this book, which is a welcome and very worthwhile addition to any Delhi lover’s library.

As the title implies, Ms Liddle takes you, the reader, on 14 historic walks through the city, in which she describes in great detail the sights and sites, “guiding” you and allowing you to wander on your own using her book as your companion. The walks she has chosen include lesser known areas such as Janahpanah, as well as absolutely classic Delhi must-see places such as the Red Fort and Qutb Minar, which are on every tourist’s itinerary.

The author’s reason for including these better-known Delhi sites is disarmingly frank :

This is the sad reality of much of the (non) signage at Delhi’s monuments, making this book even more useful.

Ms Liddle’s approach to choosing each of her chosen walks is practical.

Again, quoting her own words :

” It should be a fairly pleasant walk – I have left out the particularly litter-strewn or overgrown paths.”

Given the parlous state of much of the city, I couldn’t agree more with her pragmatic approach.

Each chapter starts with a simple but detailed map of the walk (more on the maps in a moment) followed by an eminently practical listing of such information as the opening times, the cost of entry tickets, the closest metro stations and, very sensibly, the difficulty level of the walk. And, super sensibly for Delhi, Ms Liddle also provides details of what amenities are available – water, snacks and that all important loo.

So, armed with these practical details, the author then describes in great detail but in clear, easy prose, the main things to see as you wander through, say, Mehrauli Archeological Park, or Hauz Khas, or through the Lodi Gardens. Each main monument, or vista, or church or tomb has a number which refers back to the map. The maps are clear and simple to follow, and provide names for places which many a better guidebook has failed to do. Thanks to Ms Liddle, I now know that those two tombs opposite Aurobindo Place Market, the outliers of the wonderful Hauz Khas complex, are actually called the Dadi-Pito or Biwi-Bandi.

The author explains architectural terms simply, for the layman, and wears her obvious scholarship and knowledge lightly, and in a charmingly un-stuffy way. The book is easy and pleasant to read, with an easy-going style, not like reading a standard guide book at all. Rather, you feel as though you are wandering through Chandni Chowk, or the Red Fort, or Safdarjung’s Tomb with a knowledgeable friend, who is gently pointing out things you might otherwise have missed.

If it doesn’t sound silly, the book is also quite light to hold, making you much more likely to pop it in your bag when you set out to on a walk.

I know I certainly shall.

This book is going to go with me as I re-explore the by-lanes of Chandni Chowk, and take another walk down Rajpath from India Gate to Rashtrapati Bhawan, learning more at the Lutyens Baker relationship as I stroll.

Published by Westland, “14 Historic Walks” costs Rs 495.

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

THINNER DINNER by SHUBHRA KRISHNAN

2011, Non Fiction, Self Help 1 Response »

Jan 132012

I was the perfect choice to review this book, though I say so myself.

I seriously need to lose weight.

I cannot cook to save my life. Really & truly.

I usually avoid cookery books like the plague. Have never knowingly sat down & read a cookery book. Before this one, that is.

And so when I say I love this book, you know I am speaking the absolute truth.

Intrigued by the title, and inspired by New Year’s resolutions to shed those extra kilos, I found the author’s cheerful style and honest self-truths about her own weight refreshing. The book is an easy, entertaining read, combining tips and recipes and general observations about food.

Divided into 14 chapters, the author starts off her quest for slimming but tasty food with that ultimate Indian comfort food, dal-chawal (lentils and rice, for non-Hindi speakers) sharing a recipe of Shahnaz Husaiahnaz Husiann which peps up the dal in a brilliant way.

Tried it, and it is delicious.

Chapter 2 tackles soups, under the title “Life is too short for bland soup” and Shubhra Krishnan shares all kinds of tips using spices which (in her own words) “sex up soups.” It’s that kind of book.

Salads, bread, rotis, vegetables, paneer, potatoes, rice, pasta, pizza - there isn’t an aspect of a meal that the author doesn’t discuss and analyse in her irrepressibly cheerful style. Never once does she make you feel you have to cut down completely on the good things in life. Rather she tweaks old favourites, and gives you ample scope to eat well, with taste and comfort and - for this is essentially an Indian cook book – lots of spice.

As the blurb on the back cover says ” Learn smart ways to shave off those calories” - and that is exactly the approach Shubhra Krishnan takes. You eat pretty much as you usually do, but by dint of substituting leaner foods, and adding and tweaking the use of spices, the final result is less calorific.

The book is visually pleasing with nicely styled food photos, plus drawings and cartoons. The recipes are written as though they are on torn-off pages of a notebook - a nice touch – and the author takes you stage by stage through the recipes, in simple, layman’s terms. Perfect for the culinary-challenged, like me.

So, for example, a recipe for Rosemary Roast Potatoes which the author disarmingly admits “is a dish that takes my breath away, along with my adjectives” has a photo + recipe + stage by stage instructions + extra hints as to how you can jazz the recipe up further.

She starts her chapter on rice with a beauiful quotation from a Japanese chef :

“Rice…is beautiful when it grows, precision rows of sparkling green stalks shooting up to reach the hot summer sun. It is beautiful when harvested, autumn golden sheaves piled on diked, patchwork paddies.”

Then she wryly adds :

“The Dietician’s Opinion : Rice is fattening. Sigh.”

She shares great pasta recipes, includes pizza and dessert recipes.

Seriously, how can you not love a cookery book like this ?

Published by westland ltd (with a small W) the book costs Rs 395. Although it is very much an Indian cook-book, it is not exclusively an indian cook book. Readers who might not be familiar with Indian food will not be put off at all by the recipes - the whole approach is inclusive.

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

ROAD OF BONES by FERGAL KEANE

2010, History, Non Fiction, Reviews 3 Responses »

Dec 182011

There is something deeply moving, reading an extraordinary book like Fergal Keane’s “Road of Bones” whilst staying in Kohima, the little town that is the centrepiece for the dramatic events of 1944. I was in Nagaland (incidentally the most in-Indian feeling place I have ever been to in 30 years of Indian travels), for the Hornbill Festival, and so it made sense to take this book with me for the long train journeys.

“Road of Bones The Epic Siege of Kohima” documents the events of what is often referred to as the Forgotten War, the battle between the Japanese and the British & Indian troops in the Burmese theatre of war. While the events leading up to the Normandy invasion were unfolding in Europe, thousands of troops in this hot, difficult, mountainous, tropical corner of Asia battled for supremacy, literally. The ultimate field of battle came down to the tennis court of the DC’s Bungalow, where Japanese and Allied troops lobbed grenades at each other across a burned out few yards of tennis court.

The book is a gripping, often horrific, account of this campaign which pitted Japanese and Allied troops in a deathly, deadly campaign, with the tribals of Nagaland caught up in this war of attrition.

The book is often very hard to read.

War and battle and suffering and starvation and fear are not pretty, and Fergal Keane tells the story of this campaign in gritty, realistic terms. More importantly, he tells the stories of men, not anonymous soldiers. He introduces us to the ordinary men on both sides of the battle, ordinary young boys from Kent, apprehensive young Japanese men, who all found themselves fighting inch by inch for terrain in a far corner of India.

There are the big players, of course - Slim and Churchill and Mountbatten and Mutagutchi – but it is the heroic actions and the courage under fire of the individuals rather than the collective, that makes this book so moving. You weep when you learn of deaths. You sigh with relief when an injured young man makes it onto a convoy out of Kohima.

Naturally, I visited the beautiful Commonwealth War Cemetery in Kohima, while I was still reading the book, and to stand in front of the memorials, and recognise names from the book was profoundly moving.

To add to the poignancy around this book, one of my companions in Kohima was Catriona, the daughter of Ursula Graham Bower, who both figure in the book, and so the whole experience took on an extra vividness.

Kohima was all decked out for the Hornbill Festival and in advance for Christmas, and yet the traces of those events remain. The names of the hills and roads are still there. The beautifully maintained cemetery. A parade of World War II vehicles, compete with everyone dressed up in period clothing.

It was all very time-warp-ish.

It may seem a little unnecessary for a mere reviewer to compliment Fergal Keane on his research for “Road of Bones,” but I must. The wealth of material is truly astounding, and Mr. Keane has woven it all together into a minutely detailed canvas, telling the story of the campaign and the siege in brilliant detail. Often the account reads almost minute by minute, with the threads of many different lives caught up together. He is even handed in his portrayal of both sides in this desperate conflict. No one is lionised, no one is demonised. What we are presented with is a superbly well-written book about ordinary men fighting to the death, thousands of miles from home, in circumstances of great privation.

Published by Harper Press, the paperback costs £9.99

DELHI DURBAR by SUNIL RAMAN & ROHIT AGARWAL

2011, History, Indian Authors, Non Fiction, Reviews 2 Responses »

Dec 172011

This week, New Delhi officially turned 100 years old.

On 12 December 1911, at the Delhi Durbar, in front of maharajahs, rajahs, princes, and thousands of British and Indian citizens, King George V made an announcement that would have major repercussions for India.

The capital city was going to be moved from Calcutta to Delhi.

And thus New Delhi would come into existence as an imperial city.

Fast forward 100 years, and New Delhi 2011 chose virtually to ignore the centenary.

Mutterings about the rights and wrongs of celebrating imperialism masked the plain fact that the venue for the 1911 Durbar, Coronation Park, is a shambles, renovation work incomplete, deadlines missed. This is not the place to discuss how a city can be years behind on deadlines, with no outcry and no accountability – but just remember that some projects for the 2010 Commonwealth Games are still languishing unfinished.

So, Delhi, thank goodness for Sunil Raman and Rohit Agarwal.

They have written a lavishly illustrated book about the 1911 Durbar, which as a stand alone event - with or without the moral issues of colonialism – deserves to be commemorated. The Durbar happened. It is a fact of history. It brought New Delhi into being. It was an event of long-lasting historical importance.

And more than anything else, it was an utterly fabulous, glorious expression of all that was best in royal and imperial India - ceremony, pageantry, clothes, jewels, titles, fanfares – and this lovely book brings out the full flavour of it all.

The authors, both passionate, hands-on historians, do not debate the rights or wrongs of spending a mind-boggling fortune on the Durbar. They do not enter into the politics of Delhi vs Calcutta. They simply recount the amazing, dazzling story of how a dusty area of north India was transformed into a tented city, and became home to one of the most fabulous gatherings ever in India – the first time all the ruling prices came together.

The scale of the Durbar is staggering, even 100 years later :

“A temporary tented city was to be set up, spread over 45 sq miles. It was to last over a week, see around 150 ruling chiefs, feudal lords and zamindars in attendance, along with officials, and witnessed by at least 100,000 ordinary people. The 1911 Durbar was to be the most expensive and the most ambitious Durbar ever organized and, as it happened, over 900,000 pounds sterling were spent on it…

…Spread over 25 sq km, the Durbar Camp was to have 475 separate camps, with a total of 40,000 tents. Each camp was to be a city in itself, with arched entrances, gardens and enclosures. Apart from the King’s Camp, there were provincial camps headed by British Governors or Lt. Governors, camps of the Maharajahs and Princes, and the Government of India Camp.

All the tents were carpeted, furnished, warmed with stoves, and lit with electric bulbs.
Every Indian chief was to have his separate camp, which was like a mini city with all amenities, including a bazaar.

Clear directions were given to officials that nothing be done that was contrary to Indian customs. Cows managed by Brahmans ensured the supply of fresh milk to each camp. separate hospitals, a separate magistrate, and a separate police system ensured the independence of each camp under the overarching control of the British administrators.”

This is the story of a unique event, and the authors tell it with unbridled enthusiasm and love for their subject matter. There are plans and drawings, articles and ads from the newspapers of the day, bills, receipts, and wonderful, absolutely gorgeous photographs to accompany the story of how the Durbar was conceptualised, planned, and carried out.

The ruling Indian princes needed careful handling, so that there would be no clash of egos in their comings and goings and dealings with the King Emperor. There were sensibilities galore to be accommodated. There were logistics on a massive scale to be handled.

And so the days of spectacle and pageantry flowed on smoothly and almost perfectly choreographed.

But there was the occasional headache.

The durbar tent burned down a few days before the event.

Her Majesty the Queen didn’t want the King to ride an elephant in procession – “Elephant Snubbed” was the wonderful newspaper headline.

And then there were problems with the tent for a royal dinner one night :

“The banqueting tent offended against the elements of sanitary science in the matter of ventilation; and it must be added as a warning for future occasions that being very long, very narrow and low, it presented neither a dignified nor an inviting appearance.”

For me, though, the biggest treat in the book is the photography. Wonderful black and white photos - and even a startling, very early colour photo – bring to life the sheer gorgeousness of this extraordinary event.

Delhi, and every lover of history, can thank Sunil Raman and Rohit Agarwal for this well-written, super well-documented book.

Published by Roli Books. Rs 495 for an attractively bound hardback.

UNLEASHING GENIUS by DILIP MUKERJEA

2011, Indian Authors, Non Fiction, Reviews No Responses »

Dec 132011

This fat, distinctly jolly looking book is just crying out to be placed under the Christmas tree, waiting to bring fun and new skills to children of all ages.

Although the target audience is, I suspect, school children and teenagers, there are so many useful skills to be learned from this book that everyone should enjoy leafing through it.

Dilip Mukerjea has already written several other books which teach you how to acquire, in his own words, “brain skills for the 21st century.” In “Unleashing Genius” the author takes us, chapter by chapter, on a journey where we learn how to remember better, how to solve problems, how to read more efficiently, and all done in a fun, easy way. There are masses of brightly coloured illustartions, most of them comic-y in feeling, which gives the book more of a child feel than an adult feel, but this reviewer found plenty to think about.

The first chapter “The Brain” leads naturally to a chapter on “Memory Boosting” and then “Mind Mapping.” It was when I read the section on meeting people, that I realised that the author is definitely writing for all ages, since everyone of us can benefit from useful tips on how to meet and greet people for the first time and, most importantly, remember their names afterwards. The trick is, apparently, to repeat the person’s name and to look for an outstanding feature on their face “to make them effortlessly recognisable’

We learn about the Major System for numbers, which was developed as far back as 1648 by Stanislaus Mink von Wennsshein, but is here explained with cartoons and fun mnemonics such as shining frisbee and pregnant goalkeeper. In a world where increasingly we all have long lists of pin numbers and log in codes to remember, tricks to help are always useful. By the end of the section on recaling numbers, the author has helped the reader remember a 20 digit sequence, which should safely see us all through the most complicated of on-line log ins.

There’s a cute memory test which the author tells us is for adults. It’s the recipe for a Singapore Sling. We are supposed to memorise it for 5 minutes, and see if we can recall it a day, a week, a month and even a year later. He then converts the recipe, using the Major System for numbers, to help recall what it takes to make the perfect cocktail – 30ml Gin becoming 3 mice, and 15ml Cherry Brandy becoming a towel. yes, I know, it sounds as though I;ve had too many Singapore Slings, but it will all make sense once you learn the mnemonics.

From working the brain and the mind, the author moves onto reading dynamics, which help people to read faster and more efficiently. As Dilip Mukerjea says in this chapter “The people who get ahead in the Information Age are those who are able to assimilate large chunks of information accurately and swiftly.” Even if you have always thought you can’t draw, the chapter on Creativity will soon rid you of any artistic inhibitions you might have by teaching you how to draw circle doodles.

I got slightly carried away when reading my review copy of the book, when I came across 6 pages in the middle of a chapter that were printed upside down and back-to-front. “Ah,” I thought, “a new learning technique. A new way of viewing problems” – but I hink the banal truth was that those 6 pages were nothing more than printed upside down and back-to-front !

Conclusion? A fun book for youngsters which will be read with equal enjoyment by their parents.

And the recipe for a Singapore Sling is…?

Published by Westland, this big far-larger-than-usual paperback costs Rs 1195.

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

THE HABIT OF WINNING by PRAKASH IYER

2011, Indian Authors, Non Fiction, Reviews No Responses »

Nov 072011

“The Habit of Winning” is a self-help motivational book but with a distinct Indian masala twist, which will most definitely appeal to the Indian reader.

Prakash Iyer has written an easily readable, crisply written book, divided into handy bite-sized chapters.

He draws on his years in corporate management to pass on his own tips for success, for self-actualisation, for motivation, all done in a concise, snappy style. He uses the technique of a story-teller, making each of his points about positivity, perserverance, confidence building via a story or an anecdote. Each short chapter has its own piece of advice, which is then summarised in a one or two sentence conclusion, almost like a mantra you can memorise and carry with you. There is a variety of stories, each one forming a chapter : inspirational anecdotes about the likes of Ratan Tata and Winston Churchill, Gandhi-ji and a newer icon, Michelle Obama, about NBA basketball players and even the legendary story of Dastur Neryosang Dhaval, who led the first group of Zoroastrians to India in AD 755.

With his cosmopolitan mix of stories, some Indian-themed, some are global stories, and some are personal anecdotes, Mr Iyer keeps reiterating his mantra that everyone can become a winner.

There is a nice story about the legendary Michale Phelps, who won eight gold medals for swimming in the Beijing Olympics. After an injury in 2007, we learn how this determined, focused young man continued to practise in the pool, despite having his arm in plaster. Unable to swim using his arms, he worked especially hard on his leg muscles. Analysis of his 7th gold medal win, by the heart-stopping 1/100th of a second’s margin over his rival (poor fellow, by the way) would show that in the final 5 metres, Phelps’ super strong leg actions clinched the race and the gold medal.

The moral of this ultimate feel-good story is clear : “When you are down and in trouble keep fighting. Don’t give up. Keep kicking.” Literally.

A story like this is easy to relate to, and it’s also easy to extract Mr. Iyer’s message.

I particularly liked Mr. Iyer’s own personal story about flying kites as a 6 year old little boy in Jaipur. He loses his kite because he doesn’t tie a knot around the tin of Cherry Blossom shoe polish which he uses to wrap his kite string around. Rather endearingly, he tells us that he didn’t actually know how to tie a knot at that young age. He uses this anecdote as an illustration of how to handle people in a team - just as you (apparently - I didn’t know this) make a kite fly higher by pulling it towards you, so you let people working for you soar, by pulling them towards you with care and interest.

If it doesn’t sound odd, one of the things that I like about the book is the fact that the chapter are short and to the point. You can dip in and out of the book, read one or two chapters, and then take time to think them over.

I also love his chapter titles, some of which entice you to read them simply because they are so quirky sounding : “Who stole my cookies ?” “Lessons in survival from frogs and Phelps.” “Don’t change your rabbit.” And my personal favourite : “Catching fish with strawberries and cream.”

A feel-good read.

Published by Penguin, “The Habit of Winning” costs Rs 299.

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

SONIA GANDHI by RANI SINGH

2011, Biography, Indian Authors, Non Fiction, Reviews 2 Responses »

Oct 172011

I was beyond excited to get my hands on a preview copy of the biography of the leading political figure in India. Living in Delhi, as I do, we hear and read about Sonia-ji (and Rahul-ji) day after day. Their every move is reported upon, usually in breathless, uncritical prose. Yet very little is actually known about them, beyond the bare, essential facts.

So I had high hopes from this biography. I wanted to better know the woman who is de facto in charge of the country where I live.

Alas, these hopes were dashed.

This is not a book that is going to tell you much you didn’t already know about Madam (as the Indian press often describes her) and that is precious little in itself. This book will better serve the reader who is not fully immersed in India, as your reviewer is. For such a reader, this slightly rose-tinted walk through Sonia’s life and times in India will, no doubt, be interesting.

Rani Singh has meticulously researched Indian contemporary political history, which is an integral and indispensible part of the Gandhi story. Daughter-in-law of Indira Gandhi, the then Prime Minister of India, who was herself the daughter of Jawaharlal Nehru, the first Prime Minster of India. Married to Rajiv Gandhi, who would “succeed” his mother as PM, when she was assassinated, Rajiv himself was killed in 1991. Politics was the life-blood of the family into which she married, a young Italian girl, whose French was better than her English in the early days of her marriage.

It is true, no question about it, that to go from a traditional, small-town, middle-class Italian background to being the leading political figure in the world’s largest democracy is no mean feat. It is no mean feat at all.

It is true, no question about it, that Sonia Gandhi has had more than her fair share of tragedy, which she has borne with dignity.

But after reading the biography, which was not an authorised one, and so the biographer did not actually meet Mrs Gandhi, I am no closer to understanding Sonia-ji, a woman who says very little, but whose actions have far-reaching implications for all of us living here.

The earlier chapters of the book, covering the years when Sonia and Rajiv met in England, their marriage and their first years in India have more than a hint of romantic prose about them.

“In an instant, Sonia’s and Rajiv’s destinies has changed, and a new dawn was breaking in their lives” - that kind of thing.

But then, to be fair, there are tantalising little glimpses into her life.

We learn that a politician gave her a copy of Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code.

We learn that on a holiday in the Lakshwadeep Islands, Rajiv and Rahul “often dressed in blue-and-white nautical-style beach wear.”

We even find out what flavour of juice they both drank at a reception in the late 1980s (coconut water for her, lime juice for him, by the way)

But what we never get is anything that defines Sonia other than a reflection of her husband, a keeper-alive of his legacy, and as a devoted mother to two children (adults now) who are always described in glowing terms. The people to whom the biographer spoke have nothing but praise for Sonia.

The very fact of dynastic politics goes largely unquestioned :

“Though many circles are unhappy with the concept of dynastic leadership, it is a worldwide phenomenon, and dynastic heirs are deeply conscious of the preservation of values as assets.”

This is from the epilogue, when Ms Singh looks at Rahul, who may well take over from his mother. And thus another generation of the same family may well be in charge of the country’s political future.

Read the book to get up to speed on Indian politics. It’s an easy read, pleasantly written.

But what you will not really learn, sadly, is anything really new about Sonia Gandhi.

I know that I wanted to find out what really makes this enigmatic woman tick, but she remains as much as an enigma.

Published by Palgrave Macmillan, the hardback costs $26

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