A farewell beat from 'palampurbeats'

                              Goodbye friends  

                            

All good things must come to an end, said Chaucer. ‘Palampurbeats’ – whether or not it was ‘good things’ – does so too today with its 94^th post. I had thought that I would go on until I hit a hundred- like a good batsman.  But as even Rahul Dravid and Sachin Tendulkar would vouch, ‘nervous nineties’ can indeed get even the best of batsmen out sooner than thought! My first blog post saw the light of the day on 12 November 2016 and it has since been for me a pulsating 2-year joy ride. It is difficult to put in words that intoxicating surge of glee and excitement that ran through me after posting the blog. Then, looking at the rising number of page-views as days went by and receiving mostly adulatory comments from (a few of) my regular reader-friends kept my adrenalin soaring high, not letting the momentum ever flag.

I would perhaps have loved to keep writing but over the last few weeks I was getting a sense of weariness and boredom. Of late, my posts were getting rambling, insipid and anaemic, and even dotted with errors of syntax and grammar here and there. And monotony and staleness - whether in life or in work – aren’t the stuff I am much enamoured of. Further, declining readers’ interest in recent weeks reflecting their boredom and fatigue with my posts provided an additional spur to call it quits. But all said and done, it has been wonderful being with you with my little scribblings and I am beholden to you all for sparing time to read/share my posts.

Life, like a river, moves on. And it must. I shall now look forward to hitting some new trail in search of greener, sunnier pastures. Or do nothing but perch on a deodar-studded hill slope, hear birdsong, watch butterflies flutter and dance and inhale the sweet scent of fresh Kanakchampa flowers and let it fill my  soul. Or sitting outside in a moonlit night, gaze at the stars and ask: "Hi, dear life, what more have you for me on your platter? Serve it quick and hot please. Time is fleeting."

 Goodbye then and alvida…but wait.

Here is a little poem for you as my ‘farewell’ post:

  खिलें जब कणकचम्पा के फूल

मेरी बगिया में देखो तो आज, है आई क्या बहार,

देख इन फूलों की शोभा, हैं बजते मन में सुरीले तार I                

हरे भरे, पंख सरीखे चौड़े पत्ते इन्हें सांझ-सुबह सहलाएं,

घूंघट से झांक, दुधिया पौशाक पहन ये सबका मन बहलायें I

इन्हें देख तो  कमल पुष्प भी चकित हो, जरा मुस्काये,

मादक इन फूलों की भीनी खुशबू जब सारा बाग़ महकाए I

भँवरा/तितली इन्हें देख खुश हो, झूमे, नाचे और मंडराए,

बुलबुल भी शाखा पे बैठ, चहके खूब, और हमें रिझाये I

हवा का झौंका रह रह कर, इन्हें कोई मधुर सी बात सुनाए,

महक भरी आभा से इनकी, मन-चित बस, मन्त्र-मुग्ध हो जाए I

‘गर चन्द्रलोक से उतर आए इंद्र देव की ही कोई सुन्दर सुरबाला,

स्वागत करूं उसका मैं बगिया में, पहना के इन पुष्पों की माला I

चाहूँ कि कणकचंम्पा के इस सुन्दर पेड़ की शीतल छाया में मैं बैठूं,

मन की कलम से लिखूं प्यारे बोल, फिर खुश हो इठलाऊँ और ऐंठूँ I

या मित्रों संग बैठ छाया में, ले शरबत के घूँट, तनिक करूं विचार,

कि कैसे सबके जीवन में हो उजियाला और आपस में मीठा प्यार I

मीठी सी मुस्कान लिए ये गुपचुप मुझे देते यह सन्देश:

‘जीवन है लघु, सपनों के पंखो पे उड़ लो खूब, देस और दूर परदेस I

हाँ, निष्ठुर हैं लोग, फिर भी, सब में बांट लो अपना प्यार,

पर, लहू-पीप की इस दुनिया में, जरा संभल के चलना यार I

मित्रो, आओ; हम सब ऐसे सुन्दर पेड़ लगा कर, खुशबू चारों और फैलाएं,

और ‘हरयाली है तो जीवन है’: भटके हुए आदम को यह सन्देश सुनाएं I

     

                                                                       ***

                              In love with Muhabbatnama

                 

Good  books leave a lasting imprint on one’s mind. Some are transformational– life-changers that bestow meaning and purpose to life. Some are like a soothing balm providing healing touch to your anguished mind. And then there are some gems which dwell in your soul like a soft sweet melody. For me, Jung Bahadur Goel’s ‘Muhabbatnama’ has been one such book casting a spell quite akin to falling in love, and like being with one’s mehbooba. The book strings together brief but riveting portraits of the lives of some legendary thinkers, writers, poets and philosophers who shone on this earth in the nineteenth and the twentieth century. While doing so, it provides a sneak peek into their love affairs lending it special (voyeuristic) charm. The book opens with our own great Rabindra Nath Tagore’s life’s journey and his ardent love for Kandambari, his elder brother’s wife, and closes with dear and darling Punjab-di-dhee-  Amrita Pritam, etching an endearing story of her  lasting but unrealized love for Sahir Ludhianvi redeemed through her adoring lover Imroz. In between these two, there are other intellectual greats that fill the pages of this 248-page Punjabi book. There is Honore de Balzac- one of the greatest French writer-geniuses (of the class of Charles Dickens, Flaubert and Henry James) and his quest for love for Countess Evalina Hanska, and his death just 5 months after his wedding in 1850. Russian writer Ivan Turgenev and his platonic love for the ordinary looking but an exquisite theatre artist and music maestro- a married French woman Pauline Viardot, follows next.  Then we have Fyodor Dostoyevsky – “turbulent in love as well as life”! -  who regaled the world with such great novels as Crime and Punishment and The Brothers Karamazov,  and  his love affair with 25 years his junior and his stenographer Anna Grigoryevna Snitkina. The German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche (with his trademark bushy moustache) and that fiercely independent, stunning, golden-haired lady Lou Andreas-Salome’ (about whom I wrote in my last post) come next, making for a gripping read; followed by an account of wordless, seamless love (their “partnership larger than marriage” ) between Khalil Gibran - who gave the world his immortal classic The Prophet which is read with love even today - and his heart throb Mary Haskell, a headmistress in school and 10 years older to him. (The love letters exchanged between them are by themselves stuff worth reading.) Then we have the iconic French philosopher Jean Paul Sartre who made even Atlas shrug  with his theory of Existentialism and no less great Simone de Beauvoir, both soul mates, but  open to casual sexual flings with “contingent lovers”. Lastly, before concluding with Amrita Pritam, we have the world famous Romanian philosopher Mircea Eliade's story of his undying love for a Bengali lady of great distinction Maitreyi Devi.

The author has  delved  into the lives and works of these  all-time greats to give us an essence of  their joys and sorrows, failures and successes, highs and lows and, of course, their trysts (and flings)  with women; or men ( in case of Amrita Pritam). We also get to know about their extraordinary creative genius reflected in their novels, philosophical treatises, poems, lectures and thoughts which were like a fresh new dawn for the war-torn world of that era groping in the dark and desperately in need of the sunshine of Enlightenment.  No wonder all of them turned into beacons of awakening and inspiration for generations to come… and will remain so. Personally, I remember how, fresh from the University (and ill-taught), when I was an aimless wanderer torn by existential dilemma, it was Sartre’s thoughts that gave me a sense of direction and hope.

Well, geniuses they were, but what Jung so deftly and masterfully brings out as an undercurrent is the fact that still they were all men and women of flesh and blood with human frailties. Secondly, that love transcends all man-made barriers and moral codes; thirdly it is love with its pain and bliss that brings out the best in us. Fourthly, it needs courage and conviction to weather all storms and to remain steadfast in your beliefs even when you are pilloried and ostracized by the dogmatic society, and plough your own furrow despite all odds. Then and then alone you can rise above mediocrity and can be a trailblazer. Didn’t Tagore say: “ekla chalo re”? But if you want to be a monotonous mediocre in life, well then, stay put in the safe cocoons of established beliefs and conventions and die unsung, unheard and unknown.

Longfellow’s lines we were taught in school come to mind:

…Lives of great men all remind us, we can make our lives sublime

And, departing, leave behind us footprints on the sands of time…

Having read Muhabbatnama, I don’t feel like reading another book: to not let go of the sweet taste it has left me with, and I urge you dear reader-friends to do read it. If you don’t know Punjabi await its translation which I am sure would soon be out. Or, if your heart dances to the beats of love and understands its subtle nuances, welcome to my humble little 'aahlana' (nest): I will read it out to you, page after mesmerizing page over sips of vodka or maybe scotch!

Lastly, I can’t thank Goel Saab enough for bringing out this sparkling gem of great beauty and charm.

       Lou Andreas-Salome'- a woman extraordinaire                              and her 'Hymn  to  Life'    

                           

‘Muhabbatnama’ – the book that I finished reading this week - has a soul-stirring account of an iconoclast of her times: Lou Andreas-Salome’. Salome’ was born in Russia (“Russia was her janmbhumi and Germany her karmbhumi,” writes the author) about 150 years back when women, all over the world (Europe included), were treated like slaves. Their life/world was confined to the four walls of their homes. A woman then meant nothing but a mere object of amusement and satiation for the lust and needs of man. But this intrepid woman, Andreas-Salome’, “like a hawk flying against the tides of the time”, never let family’s shackles, social taboos and religious diktats stall her soaring flight: flight to freedom; flight to live life on her own terms. Neither she let her freedom be compromised even a tiny bit, nor did she let herself be tied to anyone. Yes, live, love and marry she did. But no relationship could ever impose its weight on her free will and freedom. "Her life is in fact the story of a flag-bearer of woman emancipation," says Jung Bahadur Goel, the author of this beautiful book.

Salomé’s beauty marked by innocence of her face, gleaming golden hair, big, blue, eager eyes, together with the brilliance of her intellect, dazzled anyone who came near her. Greatest minds of the time - intellectual giants like Nietzsche, Rilke and Sigmund Freud, who illumined  the world with new hope and meaning by their philosophical thoughts and memorable works – as they do still today – fell head over heels in love with her. Philosopher Nietzsche and poet-novelist Rilke competed and both begged her hand in marriage. But for Salome’ her independence and freedom were dearer than anything in the world; she declined. She loved them, befriended them, lived with them in a ‘commune’ (Plato's brainchild) but kept her freedom sacrosanct and undiluted.

Well, I could go on describing Lou Andreas-Salome’ to you but that would be giving away rather too much, and depriving you of the pure joy you would derive from reading the book.

This trail-blazing woman, adored and honoured as the greatest woman-philosopher of her time, among her several works, penned a poem ‘Hymn to Life’. Yours truly has dared and tried his hand at translating it into Hindi. I reproduce below both: her original poem and my translation. Happy reading! Comments welcome.

Take it as a little post Diwali gift from me!

                                   Hymn To Life

                                                                  by Lou Andreas-Salomé

                                     Surely, a friend loves a friend the way
                                     That I love you, enigmatic life —
                                    Whether I rejoiced or wept with you,
                                    Whether you gave me joy or pain.

                                     I love you with all your harms;
                                    And if you must destroy me,
                                    I wrest myself from your arms,
                                   As a friend tears himself away from a friend’s breast.

                                   I embrace you with all my strength!
                                   Let all your flames ignite me,
                                   Let me in the ardor of the struggle
                                   Probe your enigma ever deeper.

                                  To live and think millennia!
                                  Enclose me now in both your arms:
                                  If you have no more joy to give me —
                                  Well then—there still remains your pain.

                            जीवन के प्रति स्तुति गीत

सच मानो जिन्दगी, ऐ जिंदगी- अनबुझ पहेली-भरी

तुमसे करती हूँ मैं प्यार, हों जैसे हम यार दो जिगरी-

  चाहे हँसी हूँ तुम संग, या रोई हूँ मैं तुम संग, जार जार

  दी हो ख़ुशी बहुत, या किया हो तूने मुझे, पीड़ा से लाचार I

तुम्हारी बुराईयाँ भी हैं मुझको स्वीकार...

करती जो हूँ मैं आखिर तुमसे प्यार

करना ही है तुमने  मुझको बरबाद अगर

तो हो जाऊँगी तेरी बाँहों से अलग, मगर-

मन में संजो के दर्द –भरा प्यार

बिछुड़ें जैसे सीनों से चिपके दो यार I

करती हूँ तेरा आलिंगन मैं पुरजोर और भरपूर 

तेरी अग्नि में तपना है मुझे सहर्ष मंजूर

दहकना है तेरी ज्वालाओं में, चाहे जैसी भी हो आंच

जान तभी तो पाऊँगी मैं तेरे गहन राज़ों की वो सांच I

चिरकाल तक जीना है मुझे और करना है चिन्तन

जकड़ लो दो बाहों में अपनी तुम, ऐ मेरे जीवन

‘गर ख़ुशी नहीं है तेरे पास बची मेरे लिए कुछ और

तो मंजूर है मुझे  सहज तुम्हारा, पीड़ा का भी छोर I

***

                       

                          Three cheers for #MeToo but...

                                                            

The  #MeToo winds emanating from the West have now overtaken our sub-continent. Some heads cocooned in the safety of their impregnable ivory towers have rolled. Several more might follow, if these waves gain momentum; and, one too many, if lesser known Tanushree Dattas of our small towns find a way of being heard. As expected, our Bollywood’s megastars are keeping mum and looking the other way. The gutsy Tanushree who spearheaded the movement has been unsparing. She has said that this conspiracy of silence of the superstars hides less and reveals more: they have been complicit too, hence this chuppi. Well,  Bollywood, where the filthy rich super stars don't even pay their taxes, has never been known for any high moral standards anyway. What goes on behind the curtains for aspiring women actors desperate to bag a film role, is a badly kept secret of the tinsel world, we all know.

Well, we are a patriarchal society. Male supremacy and chauvinism run deep in our veins. Women’s woes start even before they are born. The birth of a girl child still evokes gloom in many a household. A male child enjoys special attention, care and privileges, and better education than a girl child. In spite of a law, a daughter is deprived of her due property rights by parents and her male siblings, by tacit understanding. Driven by violent mindsets and several socio-economic factors, ghastly rapes are daily news in the badlands of Haryana, Rajasthan, Bihar, West Bengal and MP. Therefore the scale at which sexual harassment prevails in our workplaces, places of religious worship, congregations, film studios, buses, trains and planes is not hard to imagine. How rampant it must be in our rural hinterlands against voiceless, powerless women, then? What about our domestic helps, women labourers and rural women who fall an easy prey to the lust of their employers and the feudal  lords? Will #MeToo reach out to them too? 

But there is another aspect to it which merits thought. Of course, seeking sexual favours from a woman by coercion, blackmail and force is deplorable and despicable. But what about the genuine, love-seeking Mahiwals of the present day seeking out their Sohinis? Will they get caught in the crosshairs of this movement? Will proposing to a woman you love become a difficult, scary  proposition in the wake of #MeToo? What about those exploratory subtle hints and gestures, amorous stares, those deft little touches and brushes, sending sweet little love notes which comprise the essential arsenal in that heart-throbbing game of wooing and courtship that precede the declaration of love? Will all such things become a 'no, no' too? Won't this world, already groaning under intolerance, violence, wars and hatred,  become too loveless and cheerless a place to live? In this age  of digitalization, humankind will perhaps be reduced to mere robots glued to their mobiles and TVs, and ‘LOVE’ - with all its glorious manifestations  and nuances - will be reduced to yet another digital exercise shorn of its divinity and bliss.

Therefore, while we must shed our patriarchal mindsets and proactively help and support this new surge, we must take care to avoid overlap by drawing clear lines of distinction between what constitutes coercion and what is a heart-felt, well-meaning gesture of love of a man to a woman…and vice versa. I hope the #MeToo  tide helps to bring to book the sexual predators but  ends up not in pitting men against women, or curbing mutual conviviality or freedom to mix and mingle and explore the beauty and wonder of this world together. 
                                
                                                       ***

                      Day 2 at the Kasauli Litfest-'18 

Posing with Sir Mark Tully: a moment to cherish

The sullen ‘caretaker’ I spoke about in my last post made heart-warming amends  by serving me hot and crisp paranthas for the breakfast next morning. Already,  the litfest venue, when I reached there late in the morning, was abuzz with excitement as there were interesting sessions on the anvil for day 2: October13. Syeda Hameed as interlocutor, and Reba Som and Ian Magedera were on stage discussing on the European videshinis like Sister Nivedita, Mother Teresa and even Sonia Gandhi who had made it to India and impacted us in their own ways. In the meanwhile a little commotion could be discerned in the veranda of the Club.  A tall, handsome figure of Shashi Tharoor draped in an orangish jacket came in view. There was already a throng of eager fans surrounding him – school kids included – seeking his autographs. It is not for nothing that women find him so impossible to resist, I thought. Pin drop silence descended over the place when he assumed his seat on stage and then began to speak on his new  book 'Why I am a Hindu' with Rajiv Mehrotra doing a masterful job in the role of an interlocutor. There was laughter and humour as witty barbs were flung at him about his politics, his ‘Tharoorisms’ and how and why women drooled over him. Tharoor answered them all with superlative candour, élan and finesse. He was equally  erudite and eloquent when he spoke on his understanding of Hinduism. He said that Hinduism is an eclectic faith as propounded by Vivekananda. It is not just about ‘tolerance’ but also about ‘acceptance’. About ‘Kama’, he said that Hinduism looks at it as one of the 4 natural elements in human life…unlike the parochial, pseudo-moral concepts propounded by the Orthodox Church. Victorian culture, he added with a chuckle, dictated even the piano legs to be covered because they resembled woman’s legs!

When he concluded, the audience was in thrall. And many were bursting with questions to ask and comments to make- yours truly included. I just told him about his book ‘Riot’ which I said I had read and loved. He said, “Thanks.” Then I added that it has a fair dose of ‘kama’ in it. He replied, “Yes, of course, it has; after all it is a love story.”  What I told him next evoked laughter in the audience: “Well, I gave the book to a woman – return requested - I wanted to impress. I was expecting a sweet, little ‘note’ tucked in the book on its return. But  inevitable happened and the hoped for didn’t: the book adorns HER bookshelf.”

If Shashi Tharoor held the audience captive, the one and only Navjot Singh Sidhu who came next,  mesmerized it no less with his exuberance and ‘Sidhuisms’. He spoke on ‘Believe to Achieve’.  Recalling his cricketing days, he said that lacking in self-belief, and sticking to his coach’s advice on how to handle fearsome West Indies’ pace bowlers: “होले, होले; पोले, पोले; थल्ले, थल्ले”, his legs used to shake. But then after a few balls had buzzed past him menacingly, he had a moment of reawakening. He discarded all advice and coming into his own, he stepped out of the crease at the next ball and hit a six. And what followed next was a flurry of record number sixes and fours in that historic match.

Well, you may have things to say about his politics and ‘misdemeanours’ if you like, but there is something special and charming about him. It takes guts not to be a run-of-the-mill stereotype, to do your own thing and live life and do politics on your terms. That’s why I love both Shashi Tharoor and Navjot Sidhu.

It was interesting to listen to illuminating discussion on Indo-Pak relations between Tilak Devasher and Lt Gen (Retd) Kamal Davar with the eloquence of Lt Gen (Retd) Syed Ata Hasnain acting as interlocutor, making it even more absorbing and thought provoking.

Speakers who provided us such a wonderful intellectual feast included Sanjoy Hazarika, Geeta Gopalkrishnan and several others. I also loved a very lively discussion on ‘Women’s Socio-Religious Reforms’ by Zakia Soman, Masooma Ranalvi, Salman Khurshid and Shayana Bano. It was a shocking revelation for me when one of the speakers told so candidly about her own bad experience of genital mutilation that is  perpetrated on young girls (before they cross the age of 7) of Bohra community of Muslims by the quacks using clumsy methods and under unhygienic conditions. This reprehensible practice is still rampant. Gutsy Harinder Baweja was at her scathing best asking sharp and pointed questions from Salman Khurshid trying to wriggle out by his politically correct answers to many Muslim women-related issues.

I had stayed glued to my chair all through the day soaking in these magic moments.  Now the twilight hour was descending on Kasauli. The breeze was getting nippier by the moment. The message was loud and clear: DRINKS. And while Balaji Vittal, Annirudha Bhattacharjee and Abhilasha Ojha regaled us with sweet old songs, the Club hall was resonating with the buzz of human voices and the clinks of glasses. I deserved my fair share too which I had with glee.

 I would have loved to attend the concluding day’s events next day. But then I had my own miles to go and promises to keep back home. So rising early, I thanked the ‘caretaker’ (without tipping him), bade adieu to the Kasauli litfest, and headed home refreshed and recharged with a delightful stopover of 2 hours and a hearty Pahari lunch with my evergreen friend Tilak Vyas at Chandigarh.

                                                    ***

           The joy of being at the Kasauli Litfest-18

Dr Sanjeeva Pandey and Dr M K Ranjitsinh:  book launch at the litfest

                       

Mark Tully- erudite, witty and humorous

Dr M K Ranjitsinh: sheer elegance 

                                      

 Another miss last weekend. “Is ‘Palampurbeats’ losing steam?” you might wonder. But the fact of the matter is that your truly was at the 7^th Khushwant Singh Litfest at Kasauli (12-14 October). A bumpy  journey – particularly between Parwanoo and Dharampur - in a decrepit, weather-beaten Punjab roadways bus, a sleepless night in the PWD Rest House manned by  inhospitable staff, and therefore a sulky and angry frame of mind when I woke up on Saturday, plus the intoxication of being among the literati, conspired to prevent me from completing my half-written piece and share it with you as my blog post.

But now about the Litfest.

Having missed the opening, forenoon session, when I took my seat in the jam-packed back courtyard of the Kasauli club where the litfest  was being held, an animated post-lunch discussion on the knotty problem of Indo-Pak relations getting knottier by the day, was underway. And there was a sharp divide between the peaceniks and the votaries of a strong, muscular policy- both between the speakers on the stage and in the audience. But discuss as you may, both the Heaven-cursed countries lack the will and wisdom of say,  the two Germanies, and this sad, violence-torn subcontinent continues to suffer and bleed, mired in the British-inflicted misery with no end in sight at all. This fact came forth again in another discussion the next day on the topic: India-Pakistan: Breaking the logjam when Lt General (retd) Syed Ata Hasnain was the interlocutor and Tilak Devasher and Lt Gen (Retd) Kamal Davar were the speakers.

The forenoon topics which I missed were very exciting. I would have loved to listen to Bhaichand Patel on Khushwant Singh, and Gurcharan Das on ‘Kama: The Riddle of desire’ – his latest book. But was fairly compensated by listening to the likes of distinguished writers and speakers such as Mark Tully, Maja Daruwala, Syeda Hameeda and Seema Mustafa covering a wide range of subjects: women’s rights, human rights and other women-centric themes. All discussions were revealing and enlightening.  But I loved Mark Tully’s short discourse the most. He spoke about his two latest books and about the life and beauty of villages in Eastern UP, about the charm of travel in Indian railways (which he said, need more governmental focus than the insipid air travel) and how ‘misgovernance’ at all levels hinders India’s progress. His wit and humour throwing the captive audience into splits of laughter made it all so delectable and enticing.   I was delighted to find Dr Sanjeeva Pandey, my old friend – to whom goes the credit of nursing, grooming and protecting the GHNP Kullu with  care and dedication – give glimpses of  his book ‘The Great Himalayan National Park’ co-authored by Dr Anthony J. Gaston. Incidentally, yours truly had worked with Dr Gaston ( an avid birdman from Canadian Wildlife Service and in love with Himalayas) in the late 70s’ doing wildlife surveys in the Beas catchment areas- a pioneering work contributing to the establishment of GHNP. And it was a great pleasure to hear Dr M K Ranjitsinh- one of the great authorities on India’s wildlife - introduce Dr Pandey and the book in his chaste and elegant English. I also spotted the calm, composed figure of H Kishie Singh seated in a  corner and quietly soaking in the delights of this tryst with world of 'words'. As you know, he writes a column in The Tribune in his own gripping style on 'safe driving'. He too spoke briefly on a book he has just brought out on the subject. Should be a must-read, I am sure.

Travel weary – and it was getting chilly too -  I skipped the last few events and retired to the uninviting Rest House, little knowing that the glum and sullen ‘caretaker’ will refuse to serve me daal-roti dinner and that  the rajai with a mouldy, smelly, shrunken cover will give me a sleepless night.

But a great feast of illuminating intellectual sessions was in store for me the next day on the 13^th.
                                                                                         (To be concluded)

                                                  *** 

                      Spellbound by the two books

                                   

Don’t  you have moments in life when something makes you  miss your beats? Well, something quite akin made ‘Palampurbeats’ miss its beats last weekend; and then I have been under a spell too. And the spell has been cast not by any magician or a ‘tantric’; nor by any Urvashi from Indralok, but by two books I have as my bosom mates these days. To call them just ‘books’ is an understatement. For me these are precious gems. I am almost done with ‘A Gentleman in Moscow’ by Amor Towles, with less than 100 pages left to savour and enjoy word by word. And the second one is a bewitching beauty in Punjabi: ‘Muhabbatnama’ by Jang Bahdaur Goel that I have just read a few pages of…Well, I never thought that the little Punjabi I picked up in school would find such good use.

Amor Towles weaves his magic by the sheer elegance of language. Every word, each sentence sparkles and fills you with ethereal joy as the story of Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov in post Revolution Russia unfolds. It moves at easy, gentle pace without undue twists and turns or steep climbs and descents. The Count, a widely-travelled, well-groomed and well-read aristocrat of exquisite tastes and refinement is put under house arrest for his poem which is termed as anti-State making him lead a life of confinement in hotel Metropol in Moscow. Not the one to be cowed down by this crippling circumstance, he manouvers his way through to still lead a life of fulfilment, purpose and creative engagement. For, the Count holds a firm view: “If one did not master one's circumstances, one was bound to be mastered by them.” As we follow the trajectory of Count’s life, we also get to know the changing scene in Russia under the new Communist dispensation: repression, curbs against freedom of expression, and the rich old artistic traditions and icons giving way to things not altogether pleasant or sweet. For me, reading this book has been like being perched  in an easy armchair under a balmy sun, caressed by gentle breeze and a glass of beer to sip on the deck of a ship merrily cruising along a vast stretch of seamless sea!   Delightful, elevating, spell-binding.

 Muhabbatnama

Well, with both books and women, advise the wise: one at a time. Otherwise it all gets messy. But in the case of ‘Muhabbatnama’, I just couldn’t resist and made an exception. I stole some moments for a casual browse and at once fell in love. It is, believe me, worth its weight in gold. As I said before, it is not a book. I look at it as a garland of beautiful, fragrant flowers strung together with love and care by Goel Sahib. It contains painstakingly culled biographical sketches of some of the greatest souls that walked on this earth with a peek into their love lives; and the accompanying pictures that adorn the book lend additional charm to the book. Some of these luminaries include Tagore, Amrita Pritam, Balzak, Turgenev, and Khalil Gibran among others. If ‘Palamurbeats’ keeps beating, I hope to write more on it after I finish reading it.

                                                     ***