Book Review: The Road by Cormac McCarthy

I've been lucky enough to live in a marvelously literary world, with beautiful books still being penned. I love fiction because it's more inclined towards unparalleled realism (yeah i know that's a paradox). Fiction, in it's literal context, would mean a tale crafted upon imagination. A tale unthinkable, completely dissimilar to real life motivations, is the extremest defining criteria of the Fiction section. After Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children, this piece of writing makes me realize yet again how capable a book is, to lift & take one's thoughts into another world, a fictitious world, which the writer intends to craft out.

In a post-apocalyptic world, a nameless father walks with his son, in quest of finding the last good that might have been spared of humanity. He holds a gun to salvage themselves from the big dark ash laden world. His son is all that he has left for bleak motivation. & the child, ignorant of how the world has been as we know; yet he does know how to love his father, he's ingenuinely compassionate to a false world, he knows fear pretty well. They walk, & they walk; things unfold & complicate as their journey proceeds. The best father words can portray; the best son a pen can describe. The worst of situations one can think of in his wildest dreams.

I'm not inadvertent to being teary eyed. & that is precisely what i was while reading the closing pages of the book. A remarkable story with startling simple truths of life we all behold. Our basic fears. & an unimagined end to the entire journey.

The novel was awarded the 2007 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction and the James Tait Black Memorial Prize for Fiction in 2006. Last fall, a movie was crafted on it as well.

A short read. Recommended to one & all.

Jadu ki Chadi

It came & it went off, with a disheartenment matching the excitement of arrival. Sehwag promised to be there. A father portrayed imparting into his son the tricks of the "Jadu ki Chadi". "Phir Dil do Hockey ko !!"

Okay. For once, every Indian must have been fond of our media seemingly so rightly appreciating our downtrodden magic lunge. & by lord, every heart on this land must have cradled optimism of how we will lift that trophy again after long bereavement, & bring back the so-called glory back.

We are unsure of our squad, barring a few boys. We are doubtful of the duration a hockey match lasts. We might have never seen a hockey being used actually apart from boyish tussles of furor.

Now, What we do know is that we have a spanish coach. What we do know is that our team crushed our only beloved opponent in a way our chests throbbed with pride. What we do know is that this win followed a 2lakh prize money for each player on squad in addition to immeasurable praise. What we do know is that there's an Australian monopoly here as well, which crushed our frontline striker into a ban of 2 matches for apparently no fault of his. & What we hoped for that point onwards was an unstoppable journey towards the title. We never flinched. We were sure. Not mere optimistic. Precise Surety for once.

[[ Quote: A hindi national daily posted a comic strip after Indo-Pak match which read "Ye match to jeet liya. Ab world-cup mile na mile koi pharak nahin padta." ]]


& then, out of nowhere, embarked the startling reality. Yes, it was hard, & Yes, it was shattering. Game Over !!
A war lost. Players lashed; foreign coach blamed. aplenty coverage & editorials - quite befitting in a country as expectant as ours.

To be true to my soul, for the 2nd time in my life, i felt pity for my neighbors. Finishing 12th in a tournament of 12 teams, i can empathize why an entire 18 men flanked pool of talent would voyage to retirement just because their's is the only nation "Hungrier" that ours when it comes to performing with under-prepared, & over-pressured guts. You might shrug me as a pessimist, but it gave a feeling of a mass suicide.

Anyways, it was a loss. What was pleasingly satisfying was that around me, i could see a massive twirl of interest & anticipation towards the game of Hockey. What "changed" this leap was the way & depth the entire television media covered the World Cup. What was inspiring was that we were saddened with losses that came our way, rather that being indifferent as always.

I ain't a hockey fan. Never was. Nor am i noticeable. But i'm a hard-bound nationalist. & i was happy the way it went. If you were nevertheless irrevocably uninterested in the game despite all efforts made, i deeply wish & pray that there aren't many like yourself.

Recent Past

There were days when i was gloomy in my head, drooling in overworked psyche, & too tired to focus on vehicles passing by, as i drove late at night. And time flew by in superlatives.

Trotted past one single novel in 6-7 months; friend bought a hefty tagged D-SLR, another friend blinked on the shores of a possible love marriage; Cell phone bills; credit card payments; some minutes of television before much needed sleep; Some cricket India played, not sure against whom; some nice EPL goals; Rahul Mahajan in a swayamvar, & bits i called glue together in passage of time. Leave the above mentioned apart, & I've been 100% detached with life off work.

Workaholic - may be. Tired - for sure.
Background Image of blog template got ripped off net. & i came to know only after a friend advised me to delete the penis-enlargement ad posted in my blog comments. & then came an emphatic gasp "Wow ! I've been really busy."

Work is mystifying. & Praise inspiring. Challenges, some of them, call for anything & everything that is worth trading for some piece of good work. But what's prized the most is the companionship. In times of crazy workload, in those minutes of frustrated hustle, in anxiety of those itsy-bitsy achievements or murderous mistakes. Beyond ranks, beyond knowledge gaps, beyond years of experience, stands to exist a patronage of leaders of men; fearlessly, seamlessly, nonchalantly performing the task they are best at.

Treacherous busy roads calls for a lull, as in a long sleep after an insomniac week. Splendid home-cooked meals, some "champi" in that head by the lady you were born of, television, company of people you love, & sleep, lots & lots of it. & then you are back, rejuvenated with rest, with thoughts, with plans, with dreams, with spirits, & with immense desire to be back at work - doing, what you supposedly do best !!

Recent Cinema i watched...

You know, cinema is, in some context, a way of learning, & improvising upon the art of living. It can enhance & impoverish you of your personal beliefs, emotions, & concepts, several times in swift movements. It has to capability to change, or atleast impact, the world (owing to the large foolish viewership of course).

Note: forget all that shit written above. basically i'm trying to endorse a better picture of myself, cause i've been watching a lot of them lately.

The Man from Earth (IMDB Ratings: 8.1/10)
Genre: Drama/Sci-fi
Personal Reviews: don't go by the ratings. i now hate these one-room kinda movies. an overdose of history & cooked up imagined sci-fi. if you are hell bent to roast your brain on a grill, i won't drag you back.

Children of Men (IMDB Ratings: 8.1/10)
Genre: Action/Sci-fi
Personal Reviews: This movie generated in me a deep respect for Clive Owen. Concept is somewhat weird. I mean you'd not really expect a sci-fi to portray absolute impotency of human race with just 1 pregnant woman left. Still, the flick displays enigmatic portrayal of human emotions. To me - This is infact the first movie tagged as sci-fi which doesn't seem to be like one.

Dil Bole Hadippa (IMDB Ratings: 4.7/10)
Genre: Bullshit bollywood/Cricket
Personal Reviews: Just to clarify (before you start nagging me), i went ahead with this one after the recommendations from my better half :) So, if it's bollywood, it's bullshit. But, there is some tolerable comedy to look at. Dispensable songs. Watch at your risk (& better skip the last funda speech on under-privileged women in entirety)
PS: did you know IMDB rates even bollywood ?

Man on Fire (IMDB Ratings: 7.7/10)
Genre: Drama/Action
Personal Reviews: Woof. Startling bearded look, & a hell lot of atttiude. "What are you gonna do?- What I do best. I'm gonna kill 'em. Anyone that was involved. Anybody who profited from it. Anybody who opens their eyes at me." I love this man. Denzel Washington is a third god to me (trailing Morgan freeman & Al Pacino). Nice action is an decent backdrop. Not "the best", but a pretty decent one.

Inside Man (IMDB Ratings: 7.7/10)
Genre: Crime/Drama
Personal Reviews: Good lord. the movie starts with "chal chaiyyan chaiyaan" being played in the backdrop of a rolling Chevrolet, & ends with the same. I'm not sure if they stole it or pursued rights (i was literally confused if the song is actually being played in the movie). Clive Owen is a cool negative shade, & Denzel Washington as a modest cop. An age old concept in a well cooked up hostage scenario. Nothing new to display really.

Kaminey (IMDB Ratings: 7.9/10)
Genre: Bullshit bollywood/Comedy
Personal Reviews: Well, another one at a dozen behests of my gal. I gave in eventually. Comedy is enjoyable, whenever it appears. & I'll never ever forget "apna haath jagannath" written on the toilet door (where the hell does Vishal Bhardwaj gets all this stuff leaked out from !!)

District 9 (IMDB Ratings: 8.4/10)
Genre: Sci-fi/Action
Personal Reviews: I assumed the alien era was long gone. & suddenly this bull shit movie rocks the charts. the film opened at $37million in US & stayed #1 on the charts for quite a while. I don't give a damn, to be true. Nevertheless, the central character is laudable. His plight is extremely well displayed. Damn those foolish looking prawn aliens.


PS: the recurrent occurrence of "man/men" in the movie titles in the list above is merely coincidental (i'm myself amazed)
PPS: i didn't lie above the feminine influence above. I was emotionally compelled to heed for bollywood flicks :)
PPPS: i prefer watching them online, saves time & bandwidth. & i recommend this site for hollywood, & this site for bollywood flicks.

Pieces...

When i come across a wasted guitar, i feel pinched. Outraged.
When i come across a bunch of guys jostling with a football, i feel hurt, somewhere, deep within.

You know, there's a damned band called Tatva in our company. They declare open their auditions with a certain set of shitty songs. They practice well though. But by just a glance at the list of songs they demand the competitors to perform, my brain gets sucked out. Bunch of shitheads are gonna judge someone on how well he sings "Sweet Child o' mine". Hah !! & bullshit bollywood beats like 'Beete lamhe', & likes. So i never appeared before those OVER-talented folks, though i miss the brotherhood of a band.

Just came across a song. Was tryin' to picture it's meaning. It contains pain, melody, truth, love. The very essence of each & every thread that would compose a perfect song. Now maybe you won't appreciate it that much. People have choices you see. But then, none would pick the moon to fall in the ugly category. Some things are facts. & facts, are undeniable.

I don't feel good right now. I miss music. I miss my band. I miss my guitar, although it's placed barely 6 feet off my bed. I miss some people suddenly. I miss old days. & i'm sad that i'm just another football fan. I wish i could play. Hit it hard. Play it beautifully. Both on the field, & on stage. Dreams, probably foolish ones. But we all make picks. I'm seasoned enough, i believe, to tread back.

Don't get me by my words. I'm happy. Just trying to make up for a few missing pieces. Pieces you see... I shall offer 2 advices here.

1) Get it while the going is good !!
2) do listen to this song.
(I'm thankful to a friend who introduced my eardrums to this amazing band named Porcupine Tree way back)



I'd assume you are bright enough to google for the lyrics if you intend to seek them.
I shall leave you with a sniplet.

When I hear the engine pass, I'm kissing you wide...
The hissing subsides, I'm in luck...

Always the summers are slipping away...
Find me a way for making it stay...