The Casual Vacancy - Review

The newest J.K. Rowling book released on my birthday and some of my most awesome friends gifted it to meand I couldn't keep my nose out of it until the last page.

First things first, this book is big. It will take time. I started reading Harry Potter when I was 10 and a decade later, legally an adult, I personally cringed in horror in the beginning few pages. It was like a jolt, a Universe that decided to flip 180 degrees, I simply could not bring myself to believe that the same hand that wrought unspeakable volumes of child-like innocence could wield these words.

I ought to have been prepared for it obviously. So I decided I will wipe away my fond memories of Harry, who I think is the best example of a person, for the duration of "The Casual Vacancy". I forced myself to see this in a new light.

What I liked about the book was the brutal face of honesty. It explored complex issues from the eyes of the victim. Racism, child abuse, work stress, secrets, problems, politics, teenage abuse, online abuse, dyslexia, sibling rivalry, urban-rural divide, arranged marriage vs. love marriage, religious tolerance, the list is endless. It was a mini-UK in one. The complexities of the human mind and characters were poignantly drawn out. For the first time, the reader got a glimpse of the story through many characters as compared to simply following Harry.

Barry, a politician of note in a small town called Pagford, dies unexpectedly leaving the casual vacancy. The story revolves around the election and the people behind it. The racing narrative slowly unveils Pagford, scenic, yet steeped in mystery. Children play a significant role behind the scenes. Suddenly, this quaint town, which boasts of few mobile users, is attacked by SQL injections and the website is inundated with posts from "The Ghost of Barry" which reveal truths that Pagford society has swept under the carpet. Parminder Jawanda, the much-hyped Indian character has an underachieving child, Sukhvinder. The story of the mother's campaign is strongly interwined by Sukhvinder's desire to be loved openly by her mother and her inability to confide about the cyber-bullying she is subjected to. Krystal Weedon, a sixteen year old, is also an important child, brought up in questionable parentage, socially outcast, Barry gives her something to strive for, by putting her on the rowing crew. Krystal and Sukhvinder become fast friends on the crew. The other two children, Fats and Arf, I'll let the reader discover who they are.

One character I liked a lot was Kay. Kay is a new comer to Pagford who works against child abuse. She is in charge of the Weedons for a while, unsatisfied with how Terri Weedon is taking care of her son, Robbie, she threatens to take the child away. Krystal intervenes and a special bond is built. Kay is brought to Pagford by Gavin, who both refuses to commit or leave her, which he eventually does later on. In the end when he does try to come back, we see a stronger Kay, saying goodbye.

The end revolves around who wins, who is the ghost, what happens to Sukhvinder's dreams, to many other people I haven't mentioned simply because the plot is too complicated and I don't want to overwhelm this post.

When I read this book, I feel J K Rowling's signature style, that magic of words. I think her work at Amnesty International helped her to flesh out Kay. She makes us stare at the jarring face of reality head on. But the bottom-line is, as complex and myriad the narration was, as connected and cohesive the plot was, there was a casual vacancy in my heart, at the sadness in the story, an overdose of reality, the snatching away of a promise that all's well that ends well. It does end well, not that well, and that is how I felt.

Three Wise Men

A Canadian , a Britisher and an Indian were very worried at different points in time. All three of them were  deeply perturbed by their students' devout prayers for deadline extensions. Each of them, being brilliant, decided to teach their students important life lessons. So they put together a brilliant plan, which involved travelling in the fifth dimension, bringing the Britisher back saying "Mrithyor ma amritham gamaya", and decided that they will strike this nefarious generation born from 1990 - 1993, living in an unreal wold filled with 3D movies, playstations and Harry Potter. So, they wanted to teach life's lessons, they wanted to teach with a bang, they disapproved of the drool on the third-bencher fighting sleep, the glaze on the eyes of the first bencher daydreaming about the pristine presentation and the near-impossibility to discern the eyes of the last-bencher bent on squeezing that smiley into the last message; they wanted these artificially intelligent human beings to face brutal reality. The Canadian wanted to get down to the basics, to the very electrons that course through semiconductors, to delve into the mysteries of the motherboard, relish the advanced computer architecture, break down what was hitherto taken for granted, tear apart compilers, learn numerical methods to ease computations and then publish his research on the world wide web.

All the above was simply a relevant brain teaser between planning and execution for him of course. Meanwhile, the Indian and the ghost of the Britisher had already put the facts into order. All that was left to do was to use his god-like expertise in object oriented analysis and design to bring about a workable product to teach this generation, once and for all, that deadlines are for wimps.

So the Britisher wrote a law, the Canadian published it in his book and the Indian started a university that prescribed the book.

But of course, a book was a tame tool to teach reality, ups and downs. So the master-stroke was announced by the Indian.

Vice Chancellor of my University made students realise the beauty of Parkinson's Law mentioned by Craig Larman by shifting examination timetables.

 

Ah we are as blessed as Jesus, for instead of gold, frankincense and myrrh, they taught us about guilt, frustration and mirth.

Note:

Explaining a joke is like dissecting a frog, you understand it better but the frog dies in the process. I have no clue what genre am writing, its a mix of satire, fantasy and hyperbole. So those links are the subject am supposed to be learning now but am put off by the ever evasion of the exam. Do see what the Parkinson's Law says, its humorous. And last of all, this is not a joke, its a fact ;-)

Nerd Talk

Points to be noted:

a) You shall wear glasses. Or contacts.

b) You shall answer every question asked in class.

c) You shall not respond to any phone calls, messages or any other distractions and hibernate into the dark recesses of your room.

d) You shall study.

e) You shall get good grades.

f) You shall not see T.V or go on Facebook.

g) You shall slog out and study but help your "friends" on minor tests.

h) You shall not ruin your reputation by appearing at a get-together.

i) You shall dress horribly.

j) You shall not exhibit any other skill.

k) You shall look down on "fun".

l) You shall not say lies.

m) You shall be a nerd.

Or you can be me and blog when you're bored and study hard otherwise. Best of both worlds. When Newton can have a Pseudo Force, Anna University can manage a Pseudo-Nerd me. And trust me, rather than being a nerd, pretending to be one is the key. While the world thinks I have a pen for a mind and an inkpot for a heart, I dream and smile belligerently at their deception.

The DAV experience

Many people are in awe of the fact that I am from DAV Girls, Gopalapuram. Before joining the school, even I had a lot of pre-conceived notions. They were the elite, untouchable and a thing of reverence and obviously, scorn.

The entrance examination is a routine picnic from our school. Every 10th grader wrote the exam. Every. Statistically two people would get selected and by some strange whim of fate, I was selected. (Believe me, I had no intention to!). Now, personally the idea of shifting schools was repugnant to me. I knew that the reason why I am the way I am, different yet the same was because of my school. How could I leave my home?

Then, most of my friends were also leaving and I was on the edge. To leave or not to leave? And then...

We had a meeting. All the selected candidates. Possibly my future class. It was just a routine class. The Principal was standing there and lecturing, interacting with the crowd. I was used to general awe with Principal, here they were chatting and answering. And I do not know what hit me, but in that class, I just felt this vibe, this energy, this total Dragon-Ball-Z-ball-of-fire just hit me. I felt the pulse of forty-odd girls sitting there, so powerful and special in their own way. I can't explain what I felt. I was already friends with four of them in IIT class. I just felt this class was special.

So I took the decision that changed my life. I decided to change schools and join DAV.

The first morning I was impressed that they actually welcomed the new students. The introductory Havan followed. Accursed are people like me who couldn't comprehend anything except 'idan na mama' and 'svaha'. I had a nice nap for fifteen minutes. Then, the new school prayer. Then, Javdev ji, an impressionable man who was famous for his "my beloved daughters" and his ability to command respect. Speaking of respect,  we said "Namaste" just like at my old school. Soon, I found the teachers as caring as the ones in my old school. Slowly, I found myself in a home away from home.

I still remember my first class. I was sent to get the books from the Art room. I had no clue where it was, but I think the teacher assumed I knew because I seemed very comfortable and seemed to belong there. I made friends with quite a few people already. And my Chemistry teacher suddenly asked me to define "Element". I think I told the answer, I remember being surprised being asked a question first thing in the morning.  In my old school, I was this shy person who never spoke until spoken to in front of new faces. I was already on the precipice of change.

And as Purnima Padmanabhan eloquently puts it, "We turned a sane person into an insane nut!"

I became far more extroverted. And I shocked everyone on Teacher's day, speaking in front of all those people with so much emotion and thanking them. Because, I saw the same sort of faces I respected in my old school.

And, inspired by this, I was put down for debate. Where I completely flopped, got stuck in the middle. I was like that. After the first cycle test, I was applauded for getting first in math and computer science and at the same time, so low in physics. I existed in extreme roles. I was a bundle of confusing and conflicting stuff, unsteady yet dependable. And I loved every minute of it.

And the teachers? Well, they were exactly like those I had in my old school, all caring and nice. Any student who has taken computer science will worship UT ma'am. She is THE best.  But what made DAV most memorable were not the marks or the teachers.

It was the 40-odd students in my class, each of whom I can proudly call my dear friend.

I've already mentioned I was a very shy person, I'm also, even today, very choosy about choosing my close friends. But over there, I felt I met 40 mirror images of me (enantiomers ;-) All dedicated, independent girls, girls the society can lean on, sound and trustable, as they say in Malory Towers.

One striking feature in this school was, a huge level of transparency. You could leave your stuff behind, however expensive, and you'll find it, even if you came to school after a week. And you'd get selected for your merit. No one thought twice before selecting me for shotput or for poetry or for march-past. It didn't matter I was a new student, everyone had selections, fair-and-square within school hours. Every Saturday two hours were for inter-house activities. I was in Shivaji house, and a more enthusiastic participant you couldn't have met (never mind I wasn't always successful, I distinctly remember injuring an innocent guy with a discus and tripping spectacularly over the high jump) No stereotypes existed. Zero. And we hated being called nerds. We just love to study yes, but that isn't the only thing we can do.

I had the roughest luck possible, I seriously missed a lot of fun with my class. Including the two trips. Still, truer friendships never existed.

Now, I can't see everything through rose-tinted glasses. There were a few downsides. It was an intense period. There were a few rainy days. If it were not for my friends, Rashmi Sampath and Purnima Padmanabhan and the encouragement of Nisha Chandramoorthy, I would have been completely miserable. And I returned the favour when they were down. I think in eleventh standard, all of us experienced all sorts of ups and downs but being together made it bearable. On a lighter side, I could never get used to all the noise, girls can talk! And we kept getting advice on topics I felt were completely unnecessary. But then, who likes advice?

Speaking of rain, I think the view outside our window was simply tranquil and beautiful. Especially downright ecstatic on rainy days. It was a forest-like square adjacent to our school. I still remember, Nisha nearly got her head stuck in the window looking at it! Lunch breaks were fun, unless Princi took it for chemistry class. I'd rant on and on about French Revolution, Shakespeare, Russian Revolution, Joan of Arc, Scarlet Pimpernel,  Zitkala Sa to my faithful audience of Saru Lakshmi, Anjana Easwar and at times, Hamsini Krishnakumar and Nisha Chandramoorthy. My best friend, Rashmi Sampath would mysteriously disappear at these jucntures, she couldn't stand my stories. And Saru and your Twinkle Head Twinkle Twinkle, honestly?!! Namratha Divakaran, I really pity you for being christened THTT, but you will always be our NON, which by the way, I think it stands for Nerdy Owl of Nanganalllur. Or was Megha from Nanganallur? Anyway, Megha Subramanium, who else but our class could christen you Pico after dear Sindhu Ma'am s  pronunciation. And christening names, God, Vardhnee was named Cassowari. She actually googled to find what it was and was annoyed to find that it was one of the weirdest birds in existence. Srinidhi and Vardhnee were quite the double act, you couldn't see one without the other. We became fast friends right from IIT class, sometimes having lunch with them in the huge circle in the corridor.  If I remember right, Alagu Alagappan, N Divya, A Nivetha, Raji Chandrasekaran, perhaps Preethi Rajasekaran? I forget the details. Of course, you could never see Preethi without Niveditha Raveendran, who by some strange sarcasm of God ended up going for physics tuition from the very person I ran away from my school and we had loads of fun laughing over that.  And how could I forget the two names that completely stuck - Bunny for Gayatri Viswanathan, probably the only sensible nickname, and Moonji for Vandhanaa (I forgot the origins :-P ). Varuna, did you have any nickname? You definitely were one of the most expressive people I've met. I remember all you guys so clearly, Pari the sports star, Pavi her best friend, Sushruthi Ramesh, the mostu helpful person when I fell ill (yes yes I know, quite a lot of times :-P ), and yes, finally I have to come to my own universal nickname, Dodo, after my bulbing efficacy by the shortest and youngest and the most fun Vidhya Abirami Iyer. Yes, I didn't have many friends from the bio section, but we did get on capitally. Who can forget our egg-head Surbhi Sharma? Sad, you had to leave in twelfth. We all missed you. Siddhi, I wrote the entrance with you, I don't know if you remember. Quiet Shriya Prasad, Induja Kannan and the diametrically opposite Jyotsna Rane. Jayavarshini Jothivel, Gayathri Ramachandran. Oh, and how can I miss you out? Shivani Patel the I-will-eat-Lays-everyday-and-not-on-put-a-gram-of-fat and Srijani Dutta, I can never forget your voice when you'd complain. And the stark opposite voice of Avi Singh. I was her first partner and she was like, am glad I came here, its so quiet and noise gives me migraines. If that's the case, then I think her old school should come with soundproof systems. And finally, our director Iffat Shakeel.

The farewell we gave, Tassavur was legend. The auditorium was an authentic scene from Arabian Nights. The lights, the food, the candles, it was so exquisite. The painstaking backdrop painting. Our class was absorbed in the "Alibaba and the Forty Wives", a play that involved a polygamist Ali Baba (Avi) , Alagu as a Powerpuff girl, Bunny and I don't remember the other one was - Shriya? , and Rapunzel as Iffat and Megha - Cindrella and a host of other characters. The dance for Mayya is still etched in my mind. I was part of mock awards - sync with shakespeare and monocotyledolls and what not? It was a beautiful day.

I also remember playing basketball. I learnt what Harry Potter has been telling me all the time, size is no guarantee of power, our star players being Pari and Alagu. And mind you its Alagu and Azhagu.

That Chemistry Project! I have extensively covered it here.

Yoga was another interesting thing. Whether you liked it or not, we had lots to discuss about (homework?!) . We were a really helpful class. I never felt any rough spots in the class. No egos or clashes. Every opportunity was discussed. Nowhere else could I say I don't like Tamil movies or cricket and get away with it. I remember Srinidhi brought Narnia for me to see when the three of us met.

All too soon, it was time for our farewell on 14 February 2009. I was ill, but I was determined to come and I did just in the nick of time. It was such a blur, the music, the food, the dance. I remember the few days preceding everyone looked so studious - filling out scrap books!

Quoting Charles Dickens, it was the best of times and the worst of times but it definitely is the most memorable of times. I miss you girls so much. Especially the ones who are in my college itself, we hardly ever meet :-/ Still, I wanted to finish this post on the third anniversary of our farewell, here it is finally.

Looking back on the Threshold

Looking back, trying to grip memories is like trying to catch something in water. Every time you get close to it, it seems to slip away. As I dip my hand into the remaining pool of memories, I try to describe the few that have nestled in my cupped hands.

2011 began in the midst of my fourth semester. A rather dismal prospect because, by unanimous note, it has been the worst semester till now. The only thing I seem to recollect from January seems to be my sister's birthday. What a day it was! The food, the cake, ah... nostalgia. oh yeah, we went for an I.V. to Infosys. The highlight of the trip? A golden opportunity to mine money from my friends for Autumn Sunshine's birthday.

February was a far more eventful month. TEDxSSN was conducted, I was an official blogger, and it was a huge hit. (P.S. I met Krish Ashok!!! ) Autumn Sunshine's birthday was a grand success. Black-forest cake, ferrero rocher, The Lost Symbol. And then, I won the poetry prize.

March was gruelling. Deadlines drew near. Still, sunshine was there in patches. I enjoyed writing about Women's day. I also had a wonderful time doing a project which I thought would drain me completely.

April was spent in exam preparations. By the end of May, my family went on a trip to Mysore which led to the genesis of this. It was an amazing trip, especially for historically inclined me. I went on an in-plant training in June, not very significant, just remembered. Oh yeah, dad's birthday. And a long time meet up of my school friend studying in Trichy.

July marked the beginning of my fifth semester which was far far better. We all geared up for two things - the tour and Paradigm - our symposium. Unfortunately, I fell ill just before the tour and had to miss it. So, I was determined to make up for it on the symposium. I can say, without doubt, Paradigm was the hugest success! (And I just might add, my third entry in a Saree wasn't that bad). In between, I attended Orbitce and had an awesome day, met my school friends and came first in Be a Prof. Ah, the ecstasy kept me on a cloud for days. (I hate a certain someone for teaching me stuff about innocent words that make me want to re-structure sentences.)

Toward the end of August, I was thoroughly depressed. I thank three special people for helping come out of it, my gentle Autumn Sunshine, my obedient Genie and my omniscient Kutty. September, of course, brought the usual excitement that the proximity of my birthday brings. I counted the days off, slowly. I had a nice time at a symposium a day before my birthday ( even though I got into trouble for going without permission). So I didn't expect much from my parents on my birthday. Though, in a strange turn of events, they were the ones who made my twentieth birthday so memorable, with the best birthday gift, always telling me that my mistakes are just that, mistakes and that they love me for ever more.

October. It started on a rather dismal note with the famed accident in our college. As Ms.Sunshine was also one of the few rushed to the hospital, it was rather a black day for me. All was well in the end for all, but the brutal dose of reality was unsettling. On a lighter note, highlight has to be my mum's birthday. She actually said she had never cut cake in her life. It was simply splendid. And, it was special in a variety of ways. I also found that Autumn Sunshine's dad shared birthday with my mom. And, the scholarship day was nice.

November again was the month of examinations. It culminated in a well-deserved break. During that time, I met up with some school friends at citi-centre and watched Tintin. And ROS has been the obsession on the run-up to new year.  And, today, this December I sit, doing the thing I love doing, catching my thoughts and putting them to words.

Now I know I am not a VIP and my story probably bores everyone. This post is not meant to entertain but is dedicated to all the people who make my life beautiful. So to all those who are reading, there are only three things left to do.

Thank you, for being there for me, for contributing to my life.
Sorry, for all he times I have hurt you.
And Happy New Year 2012 to you and your family.

P.S.  Don't be afraid the world will end. You won't be around to discuss it if it does anyway. Enjoy life to the fullest when you have it.

The Journey

I raced in search of the fair, fair maiden,

afar , as had many of my brethren.

Alongside me were other noble knights

on their own dark and treacherous flights.

But alas! Fast as we were on this path,

her brother struck many aside in wrath.

He cast a veil on her, yet I triumphed.

Missing him by inches, I then skirted

around him and with a burst of speed,

reached her. She was beautiful indeed,

Yet, so close, her face was riddles with pores.

As though aware of my discovery,

she pushed me away, I fell with the very

speed I came , staggering with the impact.

I fell through a glass pane, still quite intact,

right into a dark abyss. From my hole,

I could still see her, scorning every soul.

As I watched, her veil was slowly lifted

and many knights who followed, were gifted

with that momentary glimpse. It was then

that it hit me, she was pretty only when

we knights told her story to everyone,

not when we crowded over her. At once,

I whispered it to the screen at the end

of Sowmya's hole before my journey's end.

Signed, the enduring and the Red Photon,

just before passing into oblivion.

Lights, Camera, Action

So, today, the 8th of December, I woke up thinking that the most miraculous day was at hand, today I will meet my friends after a long time, today I will tell them such cool stories, today I will have the best day ever.

And promptly fell asleep again.

Now, if my day ended as flat as that I'd have nothing to write about. I had a wonderful yet strangely bizarre day.

Part 1: Being a dodo!

I was late. I was over-dressed. I would think of a wonderful story and lose thread of it. In short, everyone had nice time making fun of me (including me!).

Part 2: Having Fun

Then, we really settled in, having a nice time. We watched Tintin. First I realised, I couldn't make out anything and realised that I had to wear my 3D glasses. I still couldn't make out anything. Finally, had the sense to wear the 3D glasses on top of my own! Nice time and food. And of course, awesome movie.

Part 3:  The Question

As a person who delegates all festival planning to naturally-endowed-feminine-beings (subtitle: I am too lazy and you are my younger sister and I have universal rights to lord over you), I ventured to ask my mother what we celebrate during Karthikai Deepam.

*Pausing for a fabulous story on some hitherto unknown myth that is yet to be uncovered in my quest for history that may hide a nugget of true fact or wisdom*

Mom: "I don't know!"

*Never mind, ask Wikipedia*

Part 4: The Attack

Serenely googling on Karthikai Deepam, I sat on the sofa when I heard a bone-chilling blood-curdling scream.

Then, I saw the source. I hoped it wouldn't be what I thought. Alas!

I saw it.

It. It is a jointed-legged, bilaterally symmetrical, arthropod. It. It is a species that can strike terror into my soul. Worse, it had evolved to a form most feared and most detested...

A pair of diaphanous wings.

It was a flying cockroach.

Defying the laws of aerodynamics, it flew around the house causing havoc. It was in the kitchen first, causing my sister to scream. Unaware of the devious plugin, I had been exceptionally calm. And then...

It flew. It flew in a lopsided manner right at my mom. Scream. Then, it flew right at me. I could almost imagine its fiendish high pitched voice say "I am going to get you, mwahahahahahahaha". Scream. Very soon, the flat was filled with three, identical feminine screams. I am sure we would have beaten that opera singer in Tintin. It bordered on ultrasound. Thankfully, god sent our saviour, my dad. He entered, by the use of mystic Himalayan powers, the being submitted dolefully at his feet for judgement.

Part 5: Karthikai Deepam (Lights)

My sister, emboldened by her success at making Krishna's feet out of rice flour, she decided to make a kolam and I was to draw a suitable design for her. Why draw, when you can google? Anyway, I chose one with straight lines and decided it would be good enough. My sister threw tantrum saying she will not draw a swastik as it's Hitler's sign. Curse you Hitler, I have to google search more. Finally, we decided to use that one without the swastik in the middle.

So, we swept the floor and got down to work ( she did the work, mine was to supervise). She put the dots so close together that it was beyond the resolving power of my optical lens to distinguish them. Confident of my intuition with spacing and engineering drawing, I deigned to help her. Soon, we were done, it was so beautifully laid out. And as I got up, she fervently asked me to help. I decided, why so much scene, just join her and have fun.

It was far from fun. No matter how slow you did, how you held the powder, it always fell in lumps and not the straight line I envisioned. I used to do it so nicely when I was small and of that same smug conviction, I entered into the fray. Next to me, my sister was no better. I gave up after one row and thought it looked good enough anyway and decided to stamp out the remaining dots. But no, my sister would persevere. I went inside and got the lamps out. Now the mysterious things about our lamps is that they always disappear into the crevices of our tiny flat that we end up buying before the festival anyway. So, as I continued the oil-filling and wick-placing, I had only five of them, wondering whether all the others had been lost in shifting. Outside, my poor sister was ragged by neighbours and even the watchman. Finally, she was done.

Then the usual, she sang, I rang the bell. We prayed. Or at least, my mom and my sister prayed and I closed my eyes wondering if some miracle was possible to convert the ghastly rice-flour-doormat into something more presentable. We placed the lamps, facing our house and it did look pretty pretty when you switched off the lights.

Part 6: Camera

Infused with a sudden desire to capture it in photograph, I eagerly brought out my camera. it looked pathetic. My Machiavellian scheme was that the kolam intricacies wouldn't be visible in the dark anyway! My sister gave up after sometime, but this time I would persevere. I messaged our class' photographing/photoshopping expert how to do it. He told me to reduce the exposure by going to manual mode. Right, my camera did not have any manual mode for sure. Finally, I tried fireworks and sunset. It was slightly better and accepting defeat I came back inside.

Action:

It certainly was an action-packed day. I wrote this blog entry and was so exhausted, I traipsed straight to bed and had nightmares about scheming Nazis, Haddock singing "Why this kolaveri kolaveri di?"  and thankfully no arthropods!

P.S. Sehwag scored double century. Woo hoo! But then. my blog I am far more important.