Re-reading Rebecca

I also got onto the bandwagon of re-reading Rebecca before the new adaptation by Netflix comes out on the 21st of this month (which is tomorrow!). I’m not very crazy about book to movie adaptations because they usually never do justice to the book. The first Rebecca movie by Alfred Hitchcock was quite good, even though the ending was a bit altered, considering it was made in 1940, just three years after the book was published.

Re-reading some books takes us on a personal journey. Whenever I pick up a book for a re-read I feel I don’t just re-visit the story but also the events in my life while I was reading that particular book or even how I came across the book in the first place. Rebecca has a little story also.

The year was 1997 and I was a student of pre-engineering in Federal College for Girls Rawalpindi (also known as CB college) who was trying to juggle reading with studies. I didn’t have much access to books because I was only able to buy them when we visited the old book stalls in Saddar on Sundays and that was only once in two months after a lot of pleading and begging. I had never heard of Daphne du Maurier, let alone of her most famous novel Rebecca, and it was a classmate who introduced me to her writings.

It’s odd how sometimes one can recreate an entire scene around a small thing. I still remember how we were all walking inside the classroom, a large hall type space with big windows and large wooden tables, and this class fellow asked me of my current read. I don’t remember what I told her but I do recall her asking me if I’d read Rebecca. When she found out I hadn’t, she kindly agreed to lend me her copy. I was a bit reluctant to take the book from her because a) I was always a bit wary about ‘lending’ and borrowing books and b) I was a bit of a book snob and didn’t think the book would be all that she was drumming it up to be.

I was proved wrong.

I read Rebecca in a state of wonder and awe. I was completely sucked into the story. The 17 year old me loved Rebecca and hated the protagonist. I was aghast when I discovered that Rebecca was a ‘fallen’ sort of woman and refused to believe it but then I was brought around by the turn of events in the final chapters and was heartbroken when Manderley was no more. But I definitely loved the writing and wanted to read more books by the author. It was many years later that I read her other famous novels and became a Du Maurier fan.

I had a vague idea of the story when I picked up the book last month. The ending I knew well but some of the other details of the story came as a surprise to me. I enjoyed the atmosphere of the book more this time around because I wasn’t in a hurry to finish it and ‘find out’ the ending. It was a treat to roam around Manderley during the pockets of time I managed to steal from the twins. 

My feelings towards the book, however, were totally different after this re-read. I didn’t feel a lot of sympathy for Max de Winter and his young bride as the events around Rebecca’s death unfolded. Rebecca’s debauchery and her wild manners were a tiny bit hard to believe. And the ending was dripping with sickeningly large quantities of melodrama. How come there isn’t a Lollywood or Bollywood version of Rebecca yet? Or have I missed it?

Is Rebecca worth reading? Hell, yes! It is a dark, dark book. If someone tells you that is essentially a love story, hit them with your copy of the book. It is not a love story by a WIDE margin. It has large doses of jealousy, envy and hate. It is also sprinkled with insecurities and mysteries. But so many people say there is a love story somewhere in it, you ask. I say yes you might find it - if you have crazy notions about romance or are 17. 

Post # 15 - When a book ends...

It is a universal truth that when a good book ends it leaves a reader distraught, lost, dazed, unhappy and unwilling, in some cases, to return to the real world. I, dear reader, often suffer from this malady. 

There are a few stages to enjoying a book. Whenever I pick up a new book I’m filled with a mixture of apprehension and excitement (this mixture of emotions is not limited to reading only). Reading, unlike what most people think, is not just an act of picking up a book and going through it from beginning to end. At least, it isn’t for me. A lot of effort goes into reading a book. There is the physical effort - taking out time, making small notes in the margins, and holding the book or kindle (anything over 30 mins and I need two pillows under my arms now!). A good reader also invests himself/herself mentally and emotionally with the book. The first few chapters are the beginning of your relationship with the story, and if it’s a good one, by the middle of the book you’ll have a visual image of the setting and characters down to the very last detail. The characters become familiar and you find yourself taking sides. You’re afraid to turn the page when the going gets tough for a character you hold dear. You might scream with joy, exclaim with delight or pump your fists when the hero/heroine comes out successfully from the peril that loomed and lurked in their life. In short, if you’re a reader like me, you start living in another world which runs parallel to yours. And there are times, rare though they might be, when the book’s world tempts you to step into it. 

Alas! That cannot be. All good things have to come to an end and so is the case with a good book. When I turn the last page of a book I’ve enjoyed and with whose characters I’ve developed a love and hate relationship, a strange sort of sadness comes over me. I feel lost for a few days and unable to pick up another book. 

This might sound strange to a non-reader. When we are getting news 24/7 about all kinds of catastrophes and tragedies, how can a work of fiction make one feel complex emotions? My answer is simple. It can. Humans crave stories. We spin stories about tragedies and joy and hardships and success and tell them to each other. News is also a grotesque form of story and is something we watch and hear but don’t engage with. Images flash in front of our eyes of people and happenings but we don’t absorb their stories. Read a book by a black author and you’ll be able to understand the pain and urgency behind the Black Lives Matter movement. Read a dystopian novel and maybe you might not support dictators and fascist leaders. Read a collection of short stories by a local author and you’ll be able to identify with the scenarios in many of them. Read a fantasy or sci-fi novel for the sheer joy of being transported into fantastical worlds and if you read closely, you might spot many similarities with and ugly truths about the reality around you. Read a popular book; its themes and story might surprise you. Read a work of non-fiction without judgement and preconceived notions and your views on that particular topic might take a 180 degree shift. 

Books can make you feel heavy duty emotions. The end of a book, like a relationship, leaves you in a bit of a limbo. I am still in the suffering mode as I finished two amazing books four days back. The next pile of books is stacked, not quite neatly, on my side table and I think it’s about time I take another leap of faith and immerse myself in a new world. 

“Reading makes immigrants of us all. It takes us away from home, but more important it finds homes for us everywhere.”  (Jean Rhys)

                                                                                                                                         

Post # 14 - What drives a person over the edge?

I’m not a fan of Sushant Singh Rajput. In fact, I’ve not even seen any of his movies. And yet, the news of his death rattled me completely. What demons was he battling on his own? Demons so big and strong that they didn’t let him reach out to others? Didn’t he have anyone to talk to? A friend who could hold his hand and hear him out without passing judgement? Someone who could talk him into going for therapy? Wasn’t there anyone? In the endless contacts on his phone and friends on social media, was there no one to talk to? 

Mental illness is one of the most taboo subject in our society. What will your reaction be if your mother, father, sister, brother, spouse, child, friend, colleague told you that they’re suffering from depression? Will you listen or will you judge? Ask yourself this question. It is people like us, you and me, who fail to accept the symptoms of depression in our loved ones because how can any one we know be unhappy or heaven forbid, be ‘depressed’. 

Depression can be treated. It can be fixed. It doesn’t have to lead to suicide. The most important thing a person suffering from it needs, above all else, is for somebody to hear him out without judgement, prejudice or fear. And if you are that ‘somebody’ then I beg you to pay attention, show empathy and keep track. Maybe your follow-up might save the life of the person. 

I will turn to books for solace. Books on mental illness with happy endings and maybe some with not-so-happy ones. I’ll sign off with this inspirational quote from Matt Haig. 

“Depression is also smaller than you. Always, it is smaller than you, even when it feels vast. It operates within you, you do not operate within it. It may be a dark cloud passing across the sky but - if that is the metaphor - you are the sky.”

Image: Google

Post # 13 - The Lockdown Life

One of the things I've realized, among many others during this lockdown, is that we think very low of our everyday tasks. We don’t give them much importance. Most of us consider them a burden and hate them. In our part of the world we have domestic help who do these everyday chores for us so we are spared. Now, confined in our homes, we don’t have a choice but to do these everyday tasks. A lot of us don’t have live-in help so we find ourselves cooking, cleaning, ironing, washing clothes and doing grocery these days. What adds more spice to the entire situation is the presence of kids and husbands in the mix minus socialising or eating out. The Conjuring series does not even come close to the horror we are all living through at the moment. 

In all fairness, a lot of us have it easy. We don’t have to worry about finances and putting food on our table which, sadly, many people are struggling with. If your biggest worry is washing and ironing your clothes, you’re super lucky. Even though it might seem like a mundane, back breaking, hand wrecking job (which it is), it is also one which can bring a sense of calm and provide you with some brain space. Mostly to think about how to get the rest of the chores done and still find time to read or write or call a friend or watch television or just take a power nap. 

I’ve come back to my writing. I’ve dug out my old notebooks and am going through the various ideas I’ve been jotting down over the years one by one. I’m on idea number one these days. It's about a girl's obsession with beauty and self-image. And that's all I have to say on it for the time being. 

Post # 12 - 'The Girl Who Saved Christmas' filled me with hope to bursting point

Hope. It’s an emotion we all experience everyday. Or almost everyday. A simple Google search of this four letter word brought up many definitions/meanings.

“…a feeling of expectation and desire for a particular thing to happen.”

“ Hope is an optimistic state of mind that is based on an expectation of positive outcomes with respect to events and circumstances in one's life or the world at large.”

Never has the world collectively hoped for the same things. Hope that people suffering from the virus will recover. Hope that this virus will spare us, our loved ones, our country. Hope that the old ways of life and living will return soon. Hope is a powerful emotion. It is uplifting and maybe, who knows, magical too. 

Even though hope is a powerful feeling that carries a lot of positive connotations, it is a little hard to come by in this crazy time. Locked in our homes, away from our loved ones, living a life which we had only ever come across in books or movies - it is tough to feel hopeful. When ever I’ve found myself spiralling down into the ‘rabbit hole’, I have turned to books. No matter what my state of mind may be at a given time, I always believe that there is a right book which will help me, alleviate me, motivate me or fill me with gratitude and hope. 

I did find myself going a bit over the edge a few days back. There were the usual signs - agitation, a sinking feeling in the stomach, spurts of anger and a longing for things to be different. I knew I had to find my next read quickly and that, too, something which was buoyant and uplifting. While searching through my book shelves for the ‘right’ read, I picked up and put down many books - a collection of essays by Zadie Smith, Slaughterhouse 5 and even, The Hobbit. Just as I thought I’ll have to fall back on my usual book saviour, P.G. Wodehouse, I came across this lovely book which my niece had gifted me last year around Christmas and I instantly knew that this book was going to save me. 

This is the second book in the Christmas titles by Matt Haig. My very first book by Matt Haig was The Humans which I read only because it was a selection for our Karachi DWL Readers’ Club. Haig is not an ordinary writer though his writing might come across as simple. He is one of those writers who keep you glued to the story so that you just can’t help but finish his book. Also, I feel, there is an element of crazy in his work which has made me read other novels by him. Most of his books, even the ones based on vampires (The Radleys), are oozing with hope and good cheer. Writing, I think, is an outlet for Haig to deal with his own depression and anxiety. I’ve read his books in times of mild distress (A Boy called Christmas  - when I was trying to conceive. The Radleys - during my pregnancy and The Girl who saved Christmas - now) and they’ve always brought a smile to my face. It sounds a bit cheesy but trust me, his writing has the power to improve one’s mood unless you’re a total snob about books. 

Happy, or something close to it, is what we need to be at the moment as the world stands at the brink of collapse and everyone hopes for a miracle. A miracle is what the ten year old Amelia Wishart, the protagonist, wished and hoped for too. Her mother died on Christmas eve and she was taken, by force, to a workhouse. Alone, orphaned and friendless, her only hope was Father Christmas. Unfortunately, Elfhelm, where Father Christmas lived amongst the elves, was facing a crisis too. Trolls attacked the elf town on Christmas eve, even though they had agreed on a peace treaty (sound familiar?) and Christmas had to be cancelled. Though Father Christmas got Amelia’s letter and that of many other children, he didn’t possess magic, toys and the sleigh to carry out his job. With Father Christmas thus restrained, Amelia’s wish remained unfulfilled and she stopped believing in magic, in goodness and even in Father Christmas.

“She realised that this world, and everything in it, belonged to men. Except Queen Victoria. The only way to be female in this world, Amelia thought angrily, was to have a crown on your head. Because really the world was run by men. Cruel, unthinking men who didn’t and would never care about the wishes and hopes of a ten-year-old girl like her. Men like Officer Pry. Men like Mr. Creeper. Men who thought they were doing good but who were really doing harm. And yes, even Father Christmas. Yes, especially him. Father Christmas had made children believe in magic when actually a lot of life was very unmagical.”

Hope has a strange, resilient power. Even if a smidgen of it exists in the world, it can make a difference. Don’t lose hope is a phrase oft repeated. Sometimes it might sound hollow and superficial but it is anything but that. Things do work out for the better even if they take some time. In Amelia’s case, it took an entire year for her life to turn around. For it was only after a year that Father Christmas was able to deliver toys to the children around the world on Christmas Eve and Amelia was first on his list. However, he didn’t know the change in her circumstances and address (since there wasn’t any Google in London during Victorian Times) and thus had to conduct an almost door-to-door search for Amelia. He had quite an adventure of it too as he met the young Queen Victoria (owing to his sleigh crashing through the window of her room in Buckingham Palace) and a young Charles Dickens. In fact, it was Father Christmas who suggested that Dickens write a book on Christmas. Fancy that!

Charles Dickens and Father Christmas

‘I have been sitting upstairs at my desk every day for five weeks trying to think of a new story, but my mind is barren and empty. I’ve been getting the mobs. People liked my last story a lot and now I worry I will never be able to write another. Presently, my mind is as foggy as the River Thames in March. I have no idea what to write about next. 

Father Christmas smiled. ‘Christmas! You should write about Christmas!’

‘But it takes me months to write a book. How could I write about Christmas in, say, March?’

‘Christmas isn’t a date, Mr.Dickens. It’s a feeling.’

Father Christmas saw the writer’s eyes light up like windows at night. ‘A Christmas story? That’s not such a bad idea!’

What follows after these two encounters is some hard core action which I’ll leave the reader to discover himself/herself.

This book has everything to uplift one’s mood. Christmas and all the joy it brings is, indeed, a feeling because even though it’s April, I felt all warm and fuzzy with hope and joy. Another uplifting feature of the book are the strong female characters. Amelia, who never gave up hope that she will escape from the workhouse, with or without outside help. Mary, the kind woman at the workhouse who added sugar into the food or ‘slop’ to make it a bit better for the young kids who worked there. The young Queen Victoria who extended all her help to Father Christmas although he crashed into her room with reindeers in the middle of the night. But humans aren’t the only impressive characters in the story. There is the elf Noosh who is a doting mother, a journalist and a conscientious citizen. Also the Truth Pixie who always tells the truth no matter what the consequences and helps Noosh uncover some interesting facts about the Troll attack on Elfhelm. 

Books have power. Some more than others. This isn’t a book that will change your beliefs or cause a revolution or make you start believing in magic. What it might do, like it did for me, is uplift your mood. It might also make you realise that even though sometimes all hell breaks loose, things do get back to normal (in some cases, even better than normal). It just takes some time. The important thing is not to lose hope and remember that there is no impossible. 

Post # 11 - Missing Routine Life? You're not alone.

How many of us have not complained, over the years, about our boring routine lives? Almost all of us. We’ve lamented over how our lives are like clockwork - that we’re just slaves to the clock and hardly ever get time to ourselves. Almost all of us have wished, at some point or the other to press the pause button on our busy schedule. Be careful what you wish for, I’ll say, for someone has been listening and has pressed the pause button for us. 

I stepped out of the house some days back to buy groceries and the sight was unnerving and disturbing, to say the least. Shops closed, roads deserted, and hardly anyone around. Those who were out and about were shielded behind a mask and maintaining a distance of 3-4 feet. In a city where finding parking is next to impossible there is, now, ample parking space but no cars. We have accepted this new mode of lifestyle, albeit reluctantly, as our current reality and are adapting ourselves accordingly. Where once thermometers were used to check for fever only in the hospitals, they are now being used everywhere, including outside Agha's supermarket. 

Will things ever be the same again? 

This is the one question which is, I’m sure, haunting all humanity. Will things ever be the same again? How will we all emerge from this epidemic? Bruised, yes, but bitter? Or grateful, humble and more tolerant? Only time will tell. And at the moment, we have a lot of time on our hands.

So it goes. 

Reflect. Be kind. Read. Laugh. Smile. Express gratitude. Pray. Whatever you do, don't lose hope. 

Post # 10 - How The Water Dancer reinforced my belief in the power of stories

Stories are powerful. I have not believed in their powers so strongly than in this current crisis. Social media has become, even more than before, a platform for sharing stories. Not a day goes by when my WhatsApp, Instagram or Facebook feed does not have a video which tells me a story of a total stranger. Stories of hope, of failure, of disappointment, of simple joys, of fear, and of death. These stories have connected me and others with people in Italy, Spain, Iran and other parts of the world which are facing the worst of this epidemic at the moment. 

Never has a book reinforced my belief in the power of stories as this one. The protagonist, Hiram Walker, has a special power of conduction through which he can transport people from one place to a completely different place through the medium of water. But it is not just a magical power like Apparition (Harry Potter readers would know) - a select few have the power of conduction and the protagonist was only able to harness it when he reached down into the deepest parts of his past and relived the story of his separation from his mother. Like Hiram, another character, Harriet, can also perform conduction and she, too, reaches out to the stories within her, of her kin and family, to make this miracle happen. In fact, it is she who helps Hiram understand this supernatural ability: "The jump is done by the power of the story. It pulls from our particular histories, from all of our loves and all of our losses." 

Yes, this book is about slavery. About that dark time in America before the civil war when plantation owners had dozens of black men and women working for them; in the fields, in the house, in the factories. When a plantation owner’s standing in society was measured by the number of slaves he owned. In the backdrop of slavery is the story of Hiram - his personal losses, his love, his struggles as a slave and then as a part of the Underground Railroad and above all, his acceptance of his special powers. There is an element of magical realism in this story but then, don’t all stories have magic? Aren’t all stories a doorway into an escape from society and reality? And no matter what device the author decides to use in his story, all stories are important because they transport us to a time and place which we might never have experienced or even known. 

I feel we don’t give importance to stories anymore. Maybe now we will, when the entire world has come to a standstill and all we have to share with each other, as we sit behind closed doors, are stories. We are shaped by the stories of our ancestors because these stories connect us to our roots. To walk away from our stories is to cut off our roots and denounce our identities. No matter where we live or what profession we choose or what car we drive or what phone we carry - our stories make us who we are. For us, the people of the subcontinent, the stories of partition are significant. They make us realise what we were, what we fought against, why we took the step of breaking away, and what we have done with the freedom gifted to us. 

Reading this book left me with a lot of sadness. The world has changed but there are still oppressors and the oppressed. Somewhere, even close to home, are people who are in similar bondage as were the black slaves of America. Distinctions are made, even now, on the basis of skin colour. Atrocities are still being committed by humans on other humans in the name of religion, sect, race, social status and class difference. Children are still separated from their mothers and families are still torn apart. 

The book, though steeped in tragedy, was not all bleak. Where there is darkness, there is also light. There are good people in this world also. People who take up causes and start movements even though they might not be directly affected by them (although if there is one thing this current epidemic has taught, it’s that none of us can remain unaffected by the condition of others who share our planet with us). But humans are resilient creatures. No matter what we are born into and who we become, we have the power to change our lives. What is important, I believe, after reading this book and being forced to sit at home due to a virus, is that our real strength lies in the bonds of love and family. It lies in the stories passed down from one generation to the next and most importantly, in how we take elements from the stories of our ancestors and create our own tale. 

Note: The image in this post is by the author.  

Post # 9 - On Our Wedding Anniversary...

.....I present to you, some very interesting quotes on marriage, from literature.

‘Marriage is between two people. There is no studio audience.' (An American Marriage - Tayari Jones)

Who needs a studio audience when you have social media? However…..

‘A marriage is a very secret place.’  (The Black Prince - Iris Murdoch)

Instagram doesn’t tell the whole truth, always remember that because…

‘In almost every marriage there is a selfish and an unselfish partner.’ (A Severed Head - Iris Murdoch)

Sad, but true. In which case….

‘It is my advice to any woman getting married to start, not as you mean to go on, but worse, tougher, than you mean to go on.' (A Far Cry from Kensington - Muriel Spark)

It might work, it might not work but don’t fret because..

‘Marriages, my dear, are made to be broken, that’s one of the rules of modern civilisation.’  (A Backward Place - Ruth Prawer Jhabvala)

Wait a second…this post is about a celebration of marriage, not dissolution! Most literary masterpieces are usually around unhappy marriages so I think it wasn’t such a good idea to dip into literary quotes..... 

‘Marriage: a hopeful, generous, infinitely kind gamble taken by two people who don’t know yet who they are or who the other might be, binding themselves to a future they cannot conceive of and have carefully omitted to investigate.’ 

(The Course of Love - Alain de Botton)

Post # 8 - COVID-19 and Us

The world is at a standstill. As I write this, Karachi is also experiencing a partial shutdown. Schools, most offices, public spaces, malls, restaurants, gyms are all closed. Only grocery stores and pharmacies are open. It is surreal, yes, but also scary on many levels. Firstly there is the fear that I’ve met someone recently who had the virus but didn’t show any symptoms. Secondly, when will it end? Thirdly and most importantly, how will it end? Watching the news has now, more than ever, become a nightmare as reports come from all corners of the world of numbers and statistics. Panic buying and hoarding has started across the world including Karachi. On a lighter note, we have run out of hand sanitisers but we still have ample toilet paper!

Our local government has taken some very strong measures and right now, I think, the Sind Chief Minister is probably making the most intelligent decisions regarding preventive measures. A lot of us, too, were in denial. We were convinced that just washing hands, drinking ample fluids and gargling will help us through this while we go about our regular life. I started raising the alarm ten days back about social distancing in my immediate family and friends circle but I wasn’t taken seriously. Thankfully my hue and cry did make them consult family doctors and many events in our immediate and extended family were cancelled/postponed. I’m hardly stepping out of the house but when I do, I carry a spray bottle full of a mixture of water and Dettol. I’m disinfecting everything which comes in the house. It’s a tedious task but it needs to be done. I have two different age extremes in the house - my elderly in-laws and my 2.7 yo twins. I might start permanently smelling of Dettol after all this is over. 

When will all this be over? When will the world heave a sigh of relief and go back to normal life? Will we ever be able to go back to living as we did before this virus hit us and turned our world topsy turvy? I think there will be a paradigm shift as far as our basic lifestyle is concerned. Or will we go back to our lives in the same manner pretending all this was just a bad dream? 

Building a virus free lego city with
friendly dinosaurs!

In an ideal world, people will turn to books in this difficult time and find solace in stories. They will realise that books provide the perfect escape, even momentarily, from the dreariness and morbidity of being in lockdown. They will read to each other and talk about their most or least favourite books. They’ll go through their bookshelves and find hidden gems which they had bought but never read due to lack of time. They will develop an appreciation for the philosophy of bookworms - with a world full of so many incredible books, who needs people all the time? In an ideal world, yes, that might just happen. 

Act responsibly. Wash your hands. Maintain social distance. Stay home and read a  book. Be grateful for your health and that of your loved ones. Say a prayer for the doctors and nurses who are at the frontline and fighting this virus all over the world. Most importantly, don’t forget to wash your hands. 

Post # 7 - The Books We Hide

Or rather, the book covers we hide. A few years back I bought a copy of Simone de Beauvoir’s, She Came To Stay. The cover featured a nude girl and I remember the shocked expression of a young kid standing next to me when I picked up the book and started reading the blurb. Even I was kind of surprised by the cover because why would a book by Beauvoir need a naked woman? To entice a reader unfamiliar with her work? Someone who picks a Beauvoir book for the cover alone will be massively disappointed because racy is one thing her books are not. 

But what happens when you take out a book from your bag with a naked woman on the cover? Others who happen to glance in your direction assume you’re reading porn. So, what do you do? Cover the book with an old newspaper or wrapping paper or calendar? Which makes it all the more obvious that you’re reading something fishy.

While growing up I came across many calendar covered books in our house. My mother had this rather large collection of Mills and Boon and Barbara Cartland novels and the covers usually had illustrations of buxom women swooning in the muscular arms of tanned, chiseled men. With three curious children roaming around in the house, she made sure the books were always covered by some calendar or wrapping paper. Was she afraid that the covers might make me start reading the books? I never did - not even in university when I had easy access to it through my friends. They, too, always had the novels covered up in paper as they stuffed them quickly into their bags while there weren’t other students around. 

Why didn’t I read these racy novels? Was I trying to prove my literary prowess over others around me? Unfortunately, yes. College and university days are so demanding at so many levels and I felt (and this seems so dumb now) that I could impress others through my books. And if you cover up a book, there isn’t any chance of impressing anyone, is there?

I have, thankfully, outgrown this philosophy and after years of being a book snob have finally come round to reading books which are not in my comfort zone. The DWL Readers’ Club (which I moderate) played a big role in making me reach for books I otherwise never read. Also, I do a lot of my reading outside the house on my Kindle which again, most conveniently, does not display the book I'm reading to the world. 

Times have changed. Social media has made the entire globe our audience and now with a simple click we can share our current read with almost everyone everywhere. The more controversial the read, the better. It might differ from culture to culture and household to household but things which were kept hidden or low key are displayed openly to the world. There was a time in Pakistan when writers like Manto faced trial for obscenity and vulgarity in their writings. Fast forward to the not distant past when book stores around the country openly displayed and sold the Fifty Shades of Grey series. Ironic, no? 

Whether you like to show the world what you’re reading or you’re hiding it from prying eyes or better still, reading on your phone/tablet/kindle, the important thing is that you’re reading. And at the end of the day, that is the ONLY thing that matters!

Post # 6 - Are Mothers supposed to be superheroes? (motherhood series)

When women become mothers, it’s assumed that they will become selfless individuals whose only concern will be the well-being of their child or children. No matter what the situation, as a mother, we need to put the child first. We might be exhausted after a bad night’s sleep or bone tired after a long day with the kids but we are still expected to be calm, patient and not lose it. 

Do women suddenly acquire superpowers after becoming mothers?

None that I know of. At least not yet. In fact, I can only see the powers of reason and sanity slowly seeping away from my grasp. Yet, I fight back and try and behave as if I’m a superwoman. I try and keep it together everyday because that’s what’s expected of me. I try to keep my frustration, my anger and my exhaustion under wraps because unleashing it makes things only worse. With the kids, with the spouse, with others. Especially others because everyone of us is always, always judging everyone else. 

Is there a win-win solution?

Yes and no. Sometimes you find a solution which works but when you decide to reuse it on another day, it completely flops. These days my daughter doesn’t want to leave school. She’ll walk slowly and make many stops on the way from the school gate to the car. All the other children are happily walking with their parents to their respective cars but my little girl wants to do things differently (so much for wanting your child to be ‘different’ from others!). Everyday I have to come up with new and novel ways to make her walk. Some days we pretend that all the trees outside the school have magic buttons which we have to find and press. A big leaf I gave to her yesterday became a tickling device. She ran after me so as to tickle me with the leaf and I played along, leading her successfully to the car. When we reached the car all laughter and happiness, her brother saw the leaf and wanted one also. Unfortunately, we just had that one leaf. 

Can one negotiate with toddlers?

Even play requires negotiations
at times. 

Again, yes and no. I’ve learned two things so far. Firstly, raising my voice yields no results. They scream back, start crying or throw a tantrum. What else can you expect from a 2.6 year old? Yes, my daughter knows that she needs to walk home with me from school to the car but maybe she wants to play first. Maybe she wants me to show her a little extra attention because I’ve been away for three hours. If I start yelling or getting upset with her, she’ll respond in the only way she knows. Crying. That’s the only way she has of expressing her distress, frustration, helplessness, confusion and of course, anger. Secondly, talking to her, I’ve realised, helps me to get control of the situation. Talking in a friendly tone with them makes them trust me. And that’s what I need them to do. Trust me. Implicitly. Always and forever. 

I’m a mother, not a superhero.

As mothers, we do have powers. We have the power to provide the child with an environment in which he/she can not just be happy but also be curious, creative and just be himself/herself. Most importantly, we need to realise that though we have quite a number of powers, we are humans too and need some time off. A cup of coffee in peace, maybe a few uninterrupted minutes of reading or just a power nap keeps our powers intact and makes us happy mothers. And it’s happy mothers who are behind happy babies/toddlers. Not just dry pampers! 

Note: The image in this post is by the author. 

Post # 5 - What do you see in the mirror?

Who among us is not familiar with the magic mirror of the evil Queen (aka step-mother of Snow White) and her famous dialogue, ‘Mirror, Mirror, on the wall - Who is the fairest of them all?’ We, too, ask our mirrors the same question as she did, it’s just that we a) don’t say it out loud and b) aren’t usually in the quest to be the ‘fairest’ of them all. For that we have ample fairness creams in the market. 

Mirrors are dangerous objects. They are both our best friends and worst enemies. Without them, we have no way of knowing how we are physically. Imagine a world without mirrors, where people had no way of knowing if a certain hairstyle suited them or if their clothes fitted properly or looked flattering. In a world devoid of mirrors, the only feedback we will have on our appearance will be from others. Friends, spouse, children, parents, and the looks random strangers give us on the street will be our guide. 

It is a strangely liberating thought but also slightly oppressive. No mirrors to tie saris in front of? No mirrors to help apply makeup to cover our imperfections? No mirrors to tell us if we look too fat, too thin or just right? No mirrors?! At this point in time, I have seven mirrors of different sizes in the house (not counting the mirrors on cupboards and in the bathrooms). If mirrors were to suddenly vanish one day, I’ll have an anxiety attack, not to mention a major decor meltdown! 

Mirror aren't for us humans only!

On the other hand, mirrors weren’t always there for humans to gaze into for hours. It was around 200 years ago that the mirror became a part of our lives. Does that mean the people before us were not interested in their appearance?A little bit of Googling revealed that they had other metals (gold, copper) to see their reflections in. I guess the ones who couldn’t afford these metals could always walk to the nearby lake and check themselves out. 200 years back the lakes weren’t a) dried up and b) choked with all kinds of filth. 

When Harry Potter looked into The Mirror of Erised he saw his family whom he had lost when he was only a year old. Albus Dumbledore told Harry that this magical mirror shows the, ‘deepest, most desperate desires of our heart’. I think we, too, try and seek the truth about ourselves, our most deepest desires when we look into our reflections everyday. I believe one of our most desperate desire is to look perfect because, in all honesty, appearances matter. We might be crumbling and shattered from inside but we have to look put together and in control from the outside. Just like the wicked Queen we, too, can’t accept our mirrors telling us that we aren’t the fairest of them all. 


Note: The image in this post is by the author. 

Post # 4 - How Do I Love Thee? Let me count the books..

What are the best love stories? The ones in which star crossed lovers overcome all obstacles and fall into each other's arms? Or the ones steeped in tragedy where ‘never the twain shall meet.’

Going over my book shelves to pick out my favourite romantic reads made me realise that the greatest love stories usually had tragedy written all over them. Which is, I believe, what makes them enduring and impactful. And if you’re a reader and happen to fall in love, these stories will make you appreciate what you have even more. Maybe. 

True love is hard to find. These books which I’m going to talk about here, briefly, reflect this. But oh, what joy love brings to one’s life even if it is not forever. To have loved once with all your being even if it is not meant to be changes you. Sometimes for the better and other times, like Heathcliff, for the worst. And no, Wuthering Heights is not on this list. 

Love that came too late - The End of the Affair (Graham Greene)

This novel is considered to be one of Greene’s best works and it is a really beautiful, yet tragic love story. The protagonist, Maurice Bendrix, a writer, falls in love with the lovely Sarah, the wife of a boring, regular civil servant, Henry. The lovers have their secret trysts but even though they are madly in love, Sarah refuses to divorce her husband. Bendrix is jealous and obsessive about his love and his struggle with his emotions is really annoying at times. 

The story is set in the backdrop of WWII and when a bomb drops on the apartment block where Bendrix lives, their lives change forever. The affair comes to an abrupt end without any explanation from Sarah which drives Bendrix crazy. Do the lovers ever get to make up? Does Bendrix move on from Sarah’s unfortunate death? There are some moments of real tenderness in this novel, but it becomes a bit preachy towards the end.

“It's a strange thing to discover and to believe that you are loved when you know that there is nothing in you for anybody but a parent or a God to love.”

This was one of Greene’s last Catholic novels (the others include Brighton Rock, The Power and the Glory and The Heart of the Matter). 

For a romantic read with plenty of heartbreaking scenes, this book gets four stars from me. The 1999 movie starring Julianne Moore and Ralph Fiennes is also highly recommended. 

Where love lost to religious beliefs - The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)

There are some books which are physically painful to read. This was one of them. I think it was because I read it when love, the kind experienced by Ralph and Meggie,  seemed like a distant reality and not something that exists beyond books and movies. Ralph is a Catholic Priest and this prevents him from marrying Meggie and this battle between love for her and love for his Lord is agonising for the reader. As a woman, I had no sympathies for Ralph. He wasn’t true to the woman he loved nor to his God. She was resolute in her stand and refused to see justice in his arguments. The ending just makes you cringe at the irony of life. What doesn’t make you cringe is the television series where Ralph is played by the very charming Richard Chamberlain.

This is a very intense love story but it’s also a great novel about family relationships, especially those between siblings. Meggie is headstrong and stubborn but these qualities help her to survive through a bad marriage and other tragedies. It’s a lovely book but a long one. I don’t usually say this but I think you’ll be better off watching the television series which is quite true to the novel.

Another novel which fits this category is Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh. Catholicism is a significant theme in the book. The protagonist, Charles Ryder, is in love with Julia Flyte, the daughter of Lord Marchmain and the owner of the palatial house known as Brideshead Castle. Julia and Charles, though always fond of each other, form a romantic relationship after their respective failed marriages. Religion, though, came in the way of their union. Julia, moved by her father’s last minute return to his Catholic faith on his death bed, takes a step which will make you, dear reader, stare at the book and probably at the walls of the room in disbelief. The only way you can come to terms with the strange, not happily ever after, ending of the book is to watch the 1981 British Television production of the novel. The ending remains the same but watching a young Jeremy Irons in the role of Charles Ryder is a visual delight. 

Where love triumphed over cultural, societal, racial, personal and other complications- The Far Pavilions (M.M.Kaye)

When I added this book to the list, I immediately wanted to re-read it. This is a love story that I never get tired of reading. I knew of this book through the television series which seemed to be on every video cassette my parents had. This was the time before the internet and usually if you liked a favourite series, you recorded it on a VHS which was played on this extinct instrument known as the VCR. 

I’ve re-read this book countless times since I first finished it in my late teens and I’ve never got tired of Anjuli and Ash’s love story. It is a love which is not meant to be and yet overcomes all obstacles and survives everything. It really does! Set in India during the time of the British Raj, this novel take you through the length and breadth of India. From the mountain top palace of the Maharaja of Gulkote, to the barracks of the Corps of Guides and to Kabul  - this love story of Ash and his Anjuli will transport you into a different world. 

That television series I mentioned of the book? Skip it. Read the book. 

Modern Love - Juliet, Naked (Nick Hornby)

"One thing about great art: it made you love people more, forgive them their petty transgressions."

At first glance this book might not appear to be a love story but it is just that. And it isn’t just about finding true love but accepting that one can outgrow love especially if it becomes suffocating and restricting. Annie is in just such a relationship with her long time boyfriend, Duncan, who is obsessed about a rockstar, Tucker Crowe and his music. When a new acoustic unheard of version of Crowe's album, Juliet, comes out Annie and Duncan's relationship takes a U-turn. 

A chance email to Crowe changes Annie’s life forever. It is amazing how two people from completely different walks of life, and completely different continents, can come together so easily. It is a very unconventional romance in a lot of ways but what I liked about it most was how we can stumble upon love when a) we least expect it and b) when we’re not in the prime of our youth. It’s a book that makes you realise that love is a complicated emotion but when you really, truly find it, you better hold on to it real tight. 

Love in Real Life - The Course of Love (Alain de Botton)

This book takes up the story from ‘happily ever after’. Boy meets girl. They fall in love. They get married and have children. Is this a love story? Yes, it is very much so. Especially if you’ve been married for five plus years. 

"A marriage doesn't begin with a proposal, or even an initial meeting. It begins far earlier, when the idea of love is born, and more specifically the dream of a soulmate."

Rabih and Kristen are like any other couple. An exciting courtship period where infatuation is at its peak and every prospect pleases. Once the magical honeymoon is over and life settles into its routine is when the power of their love is truly tested. Through the ups and downs experienced by Rabih and Kristen over the many years of marriage and togetherness, the message comes through that love is not only an experience but a skill which needs to be learned and honed and adapted to changing needs and the pressures of the outside world. It’s not your regular romance novel and at times it does seem a bit preachy but if you’ve read the author’s, Essays in Love, you will love this book. 

This crazy thing called love...

Love isn’t simple. It is exhilarating, uplifting, heartbreaking, disappointing, powerful, and yet at the same time, a feeling that can make a person feel like jelly. The greatest love stories, I believe, are the ones which can make us experience falling in love, all over again. Some of these and others have made me cry and laugh and feel warm and fuzzy all over. Which are your favourite love stories?


Note: All images in this post are by the author. 

post # 3 - the patience game (motherhood series)

If you thought patience was tough, wait till you become a parent. And if you’re already one, I salute thee. Parenthood is so tough. The saying, It takes a village to raise a child, has completely different connotations in the age of the internet. In the East, we already have everyone from our own mothers and mother-in-laws to total strangers we run into at gatherings, giving us tips on raising our children. Then there are friends and cousins who keep sending articles on everything from potty training to eating habits to anger management issues. As if that wasn’t enough, there are always the videos on Youtube which can provide any amount of information on every possible topic. There is so much information overload that when the time comes to apply something that you’ve either read, watched or listened, you don’t remember what it is. At least, that’s what I think.

Over these past two plus years with the twins, I’ve realised that there are three things that really make a difference to both your and the child’s sanity. Patience. Repetition. Forgiveness.

Be patient with your child, is the advice everyone gives. Being patient as a parent doesn’t just mean not screaming or not getting angry at your child. I’ve learned and realised that patience also means to give the child and yourself space to understand each other. I might be sounding like Yoda on parenthood right now but I’ve learned with trial and error also. Getting angry at a screaming child is going to make him/her scream more. Sometimes, even distracting a screaming child calmly doesn’t work. A few weeks back, while dropping the kids to school, Z started throwing a fit because he wanted me to sit with him. He doesn’t do this everyday but today, he was really upset and was crying and screaming. I tried to distract him by singing his favourite nursery rhyme and showing him the sights outside but he just wan’t giving in. So I gave in. 

So there might be some of you who’ll say, this was wrong. Now he will know that whenever he wants something all he has to do is scream and kick and his mother will give in. I disagree. I used to think the same but I’ve realised that this isn’t the case. Yes, maybe he might have calmed down after a while but he’d still have that negative energy inside him. His anger, which he suppressed, would either have come out later in the day or even worse, remained bottled up inside him. By giving in I made him happy and he went to school with a positive mind. Does this mean that I always give in when my child is screaming? No. But luckily, because I give in on simple matters, they don’t scream in every situation. Also, it is a combination of common sense and patience. Handling a screaming toddler in a car is much different from handling him/her in the house. 

Choose your battles with your child. If you’re going to scold or punish or not let them have their way every time, then you won’t have any ammunition left for the major battles later on. 

Patience is also of another level. We are told how our child should behave at a certain age by all these experts. So at nine months he/she must do this, at one year that is a given etc etc. Have patience with your child if he/she doesn’t fit the framework. Your stress will rub onto your child. When Z was one year ten months, all he could say was ‘papa’. We went to London and his paediatrician recommended we show him to a speech therapist. It was a very text book suggestion. But I knew my child and I knew that he was going to start talking without the aid of a therapist. Some children talk late, some crawl late, some walk late. I’m not saying delay treatment if there is something physical or otherwise not a 100% with your child but sometimes, you need to use your own knowledge of your offspring to make the correct decision about his/her welfare. In Z's case, he started talking in a few weeks after starting school at two years of age. 

 Unconditional love will
help them steer their life
successfully. 

You know your child best. Trust your judgement and intuition. 

Repetition works on so many levels. By reading a finite number of books to them every day I’ve made them recognise words and letters and now they can tell the stories by themselves, even if it is in mono syllables. So Z can tell you his own, mostly monosyllabic, version of Little Red Riding Hood. N knows how to make the animal figures stand in a straight line for an animal parade. They both know they can only do puzzles and play doh on their activity table but they can read anywhere they want to. Of course, sometimes this works like magic but other times, I’ve failed. No matter how many times I tell Z not to touch my phone, he does. Again, in this case I’ve noticed that if I let him play with it (it’s usually locked, mostly he just ends up opening the camera and taking a lot of black photos!) for a while and then ask him to return it, he usually does. Give in and take. That’s what I think is the secret to handling toddlers. 

However, don’t always give in. The other day we were at the mall and I walked into Miniso. N picked up this adorable cuddly toy dog and hugged it indicating, quite obviously, that she wanted to take it home. So either I could have said, awww…let me buy this for my baby or, put it back right now! What I did at that time amazed me too. I told her that this shop was the dog’s home and he lived here with his papa and mama. We need to let him stay with his mama and N immediately walked to the shelf where all the dogs were, put it back with ‘his mama’ and waved goodbye to it as I quickly ushered both N and Z out of the shop. Will I be able to do this always? No. But this decision of what and when to buy should be in my hands and not the child’s. That is the approach I want to develop and cultivate. 

Just like we struggle with tasks and emotions on a daily basis, so do our children. I feel we keep forgetting that they are little people too and treat them like they are some sort of mini robots who have to turn, sit, stop, stand, smile, wave and generally be happy at our commands. Sometimes they do, other times they don’t. Which is alright as long as we know when to take charge, when to step back and at times, to give in. 

Post # 2 - Read & Review: The Testaments

17th Jan 2020 

Still reading. Didn't get the chance to finish it yesterday or maybe I didn't have the courage? 

16th Jan 2020 - 10:10am

I’m on page 340 so I’m more than halfway done. I’ll probably finish the book today because it has reached a point where there is too much at stake and I need to know how it ends. Does Gilead survive? Does Aunt Lydia’s scheme work? Do Agnes and Nicole get reunited with their mother?

The thick hardcover is lying next to me on the desk as I write this. Why am I not reaching for it? Honestly, I’m a bit afraid. What if there is no happy ending which, knowing Atwood, is not a given. That will be very disappointing. Especially when I have invested myself in the story so much (I read The Handmaid’s Tale before I started this book). 

Just like Orwell did in 1984, Atwood creates a world which is so believable it’s almost scary. I don’t think I have the courage to watch the television series of The Handmaid’s Tale. Seeing the story come to life on screen will probably be heart wrenching. 

More on the book later. 

21st Jan 2020

I finished the book on 16th only and decided to think about it for a bit before posting my views. It was a great book. The plot was perfect, the characters were extremely well done and believable. The connections with The Handmaid's Tale were there and I'm so glad I read it. How did I feel when I finished the book? Relieved but a bit confused also. Why did this book win the Booker Prize? It was a cross between literary fiction and a suspense novel and also, it had a really filmi ending. It's as if she has written this book keeping in mind that it will be made into a movie or television series. I'm not saying it wasn't a great read. Maybe not as haunting and disturbing as The Handmaid's Tale, but a good story. Now let's see what the verdict is at the DWL Karachi Readers' Club.