Gora - The book review.

GORA - Profoundly indian novel

Someone once asked me what is Indian culture? A simple question it is, the more I thought the more I realized that this is a question for which I cannot give an honest answer as my knowledge on this subject is limited at best. GORA is a book helps a person or at least tries to, in understanding how interesting Indian culture is. It is a brilliant story of self searching and self discovery. I have read this book thrice at different stages of my adulthood and each time I have increasingly admired the motley of issues tackled.  GORA is profoundly Indian and educates the reader about the society's complexity in a simple yet powerful way which spins us into a spiral of asking ourselves the questions which otherwise we would consider trivial and irrelevant.  No other book gives so masterly an analysis of the complex of Indian social life with its teeming contradictions, or of the character of Indian nationalism which draws its roots from renascent Hinduism and stretches out its arms towards universal humanism. Originally written in Bengali by Rabindranath Tagore, it was later translated into English by WW Pearson in 1924. Tagore is widely regarded as the greatest writer India has ever produced and GORA is considered his finest. I cannot agree more.

GORA is the story of Gourmohan (Gora- as he is fondly referred to), a pristine Hindu, who prohibits himself from even eating from his open-minded mother, and his journey of self-realisation, fuelled by a determination to empower India. Gora's parents are Krishnadhayal, a semi hermit, who had given up the worldly association to immerse himself in a life penance and  a more liberal  Anadamoyi who is an outcaste within the Hindu society because of her views and close association with her lower caste maid Lachmiya.  Binoy, a highly educated orthodox person, having developed a relationship of mutual trust over the years that goes beyond realms of friendship, is the trusted lieutenant of Gora. 

Then there is Paresh Babu and his Brahmo family, consisting of his wife Miss Baroda, foster children Sucharita and her brother Satish, and three daughters, the eldest being the spirited Lolita.  A good part of the novel is spent on establishing the characters. This part gave a preview into the minds and aspirations of the people who lived in a different era to the one the contemporary readers live in.  There are also other important characters in the novel like Haran babu, the local Brahmo leader, Harimohini the orthodox Auntie of sucharita, and Abinash, the local right wing Hindu leader. None of the characters are fully black or white and do always the right thing according to their beliefs. To completely understand the significance of this story, one has to understand the background of the Brahmo Samaj. Started by Raja Ram Mohan Roy in the early 19^th century, it stood against the blind superstitious practices in the society. Positively influenced by the intellectuals returning from England, slowly lost ground as it moved further away from the common man, too intellectual for him to comprehend.  This story was written when the samaj was at its peak prowess.

The novels follows the lives of two sets of people with contrasting beliefs and how their lives get intertwined with each other because of the a common string in their personalities – the respect for humanity.  The mundane day today proceedings are written in an absorbing way that compels a reader to understand things from the characters’ perspective. Gora, the principle protagonist has a past unknown to him that could send the foundations on which his character is based tumbling down the hill. The novel slowly builds up to a finale, which is simple yet powerful.  The book captures the essence of the religious turmoil happening in Bengal in early 20th century.

Humanity’- above all religion is the core of the classic novel. This is citied with references of a poor Muslim’s wife bringing up a Hindu child, Anandamoyi a Hindu bringing up orphan Gora irrespective his Irish ethnicity and Paresh Babu believer of Brahmo(Christian) taking care of a Hindu girl and her brother, reflects the very basics of humanity, love for each other irrespective of beliefs they were born in. The Indian society which seems to be rigidly divided into many religious beliefs - Hindus, Muslims and Christians when analysed, actually bind together in a common thread of humanity, which super-ceeds all religions known. And Gora learns this with his experiences and a hidden truth.

This novel has many strong points and characterisation should top the list.  It’s a fact that humans are bombarded with in securities, large portion of it stemming from the simple fact we are intolerant to an opinion that we do not agree with. While Gora and Lolita roar with their personality, Sucharita and Binoy are more subtle. Their actions and thoughts, though are influenced heavily by people around, their turmoil is the easiest we can relate to. Strength and compassion are two traits that these two sets of characters embody respectively.  There is Paresh Babu and Anadamoyi who with their wealth experience pave their own middle path. There is Paran Babu, Miss Baroda, Krishnadayal and Harimohini who are totally intolerant to an outside view (Paran babu and Baroda are Brahmos, while Krishanadayal and Harimohini are orthodox). The conversations between them are engaging and take the readers to a higher level of intellectual discussion without choosing sides.  Are we against the traditions because we strongly believe that there is something wrong with the system and is archaic or do we belittle them because it’s easier to do so? Do we follow traditions because we understand what they mean or do we follow traditions because we do just what we were told?   

This is not a book that answers questions regarding religion, society and personal motivation in being part of a society, but something that points us at the right questions we can ask ourselves to understand these subjects.  Though novel was set in early 1900s, it cannot be classified as archaic and out of date.  Human relationships are wonderfully captured,  be it the romance, between Lolita and Binoy or Sucharita and Gora , the bromance between Gora and Binoy, the teacher student relation between Paresh babu and sucharita all leave a mark.  Mutual-respect and dignity are the common traits that hold these relationships together.  The portrayal of strong and independent  women is quite revolutionary, considering the period  and my favorite is that of sucharita. The level of maturity and extent of vulnerability she exhibits belies her age ( Tagore portrays her  as a 13 year old! ).  She along with Lolita, the powerful women characters in the novel constantly affect Gora and Binoy revealing to them the power of women and the love and compassion. The character a common reader can relate to easily is Binoy, a traditionalist who is torn between what he feels right and what is said to be right. His love for Lolita, the change that brings in him and his confrontations with Gora, are two places where the character wins over the reader.   

Accolades for this book can go on and no amount of words would justify how powerful this book is. If you have not read this, pls get a copy and enjoy it.

The Pursuit

There he was, stealthily following her like a distant shadow. The subject to be followed was Sujatha, a 40 year old widow, having a successful business of selling show piece items along with interior designing. He had a two page summery of her life, which was quite inspiring. Sujatha was a straight forward Indian upper middle class entrepreneur, who made it big inspite of loosing her partner at a very young age. Wearing a simple Salwar and Jeans, she was instructing her subordinates, in her neat little factory. The place is in itself a well maintained one. She had her retail outlet in the residential area of the city. From his observation, it was clear that her entrepreneurial success depended on close interaction with the clients and their family. Her clientele mostly depended on good word of mouth.

Standing at an above average height, and gifted with average looks, it was a cake walk for him to camouflage in the crowd. His athletic physic helped him to be nimble and glide across without much muss. Though only 19, he had an ability to observe the minutest of details. Like his father, he was fascinated by people.  Everyone out there had a story to tell. This attracted him to a psychology major and a possible career following his father into private investigation or in the best case scenario, getting into international espionage. For about three years he had been sporadically assisting his father during his breaks in non-critical stake outs, making specific investigations for clients. This was the first time his father had entrusted him with a case all on his own. He could hardly contain his happiness and was determined to show his worth  to his father. The task at hand was fairly routine. Get a detailed report on the subject on her day today activities. He had no idea about the client and it is good not to know. Though sometimes its very hard not to be prejudiced, it was not his place to make judgments. Inspite of not being a necessity, he could not help himself from doing a mental personality profile on his subjects. He knew that for every story told there a few thousands untold.

For surveillance he always preferred 4 days. Thursday to Sunday from 8 AM to 9 PM. He had been following her 3 full days and this is the last day. There has been nothing spectacular happening the last three days. She had a stable life with nothing fishy happening, like most of the cases he was part of.  What interested him more was her personality. She was confident in her steps, self assured at the same time addressing people with a pleasant smile. One particular feature that impressed him  the most was that she had the same demeanor and mannerisms with everyone, irrespective of who they were, right from her watchman to her valued customers. Doing background checks was not part of his work, but he was pretty sure about how that would pan out for her - clean.

Sunday passed along with very little fuss. After her visit to the factory, she did some grocery shopping and it was just like a routine day. In fact he had to spend most of the day near her home. As the dawn broke, she was all dressed up and  took out her car. Some activity finally shook him off his slumber and got going in his two wheeler behind her. There was the first surprise for him. She parked outside his favorite restaurant. He followed her into the the restaurant and sat sat a few chairs behind her facing her. Then came in the biggest shock of all. A man in his mid 40s walked into the restaurant and joined her at the table. The man took out his phone and texted some one. The young detective's phone buzzed. " How do you like your new mother? Come and join us at the table!!"     

A short story contest

Guys, I am taking part in a short story contest.
https://notionpress.com/story/view/539269

If you like it, please vote for my story.

The perfection

There it was - the perfection personified.  The glitter and the internal reflections that startle the beholder's eyes, the affluence that belies the milieu it was placed,  it was a 120 carat perfection.  Yes after 10 years of hard work and sweat, countless ridicule, university loosing its patience, there it was for the entire world to see.  Easily one of the largest diamonds in the world, it was 100 % synthetic. Diamond is just a form of carbon, rather an imperfect one that makes it visually so audacious. As an autodidact analytical chemist, he had set his goal after his doctorate to simplify the process of diamond making.  In reality diamond making requires only two things, pressure and temperature.  Naturally the diamonds take millions of years to harden and acquire the brilliance that distinguishes it from the rest of the mediocrity.  Even the million years of efforts hardly produce a diamond as huge as the one that was lying there.  The accolades, wealth beyond his imagination, he could see them all at a stone's throw.  A quick phone call, and he had decided the destiny of the first diamond he forged.

She was also happy. High school sweethearts who lasted the distance, the amount of trust and companionship each other had was immense, inspite of the lack of affluence.  Two really passionate people in their respective fields - it was almost the perfect marriage till his dream started eating away most of his time. After their daughter was born, he hardly came home.  No festivities, family vacations or even a proper family dinner. She took the responsibility of bringing up the daughter as well as financially managing the household. As she was growing professionally, the communication with him reduced every passing minute. But both, deep down knew that it was just a matter of time before the normality resumed, though it took more than a decade. His success means that he would finally return and make up for all the lost time with the family. And his first gesture was so touching for her, a beautiful necklace embedded with the very first diamond he forged successfully.

But contrary to her hope the next half an year was even more busy than first anticipated. Basically his invention has paved a leeway to simplify the muti-billion dollar diamond business.  The illegal mining, the racketing, as well as the obnoxious pricing of the diamonds, all these will be checked. On the downside, most of the big corporates were vying to make use of his work. The amount of partys and awards thrown particularly for him were simply astounding.  She had been accompanying him as a model showcasing  his accomplishment. It was interesting for her to see her socially inept husband hogging the limelight.

He was enjoying every moment of the attention he was getting. After being in the wilderness this was a welcome change.   But this award he is going to get today, is very special - Country's highest award for scientific achievement. Sitting on the stage, he could get enough of the accolades from dignitaries who went on talking about how wonderful scientist he was. Finally getting bored, he looked at the audience. In the first row, she was sitting calm and vibrant as usual. A sudden fit of rage hit him as he noticed that she was not wearing that necklace. He could not understand he logic behind she not wearing the special necklace, on such an  important occasion. Rather the only jewelry she was wearing was a crappy necklace. On close examination, it was the same crappy necklace that he could afford when they had got married.

That night, they had their first family dinner together in years!!

The solitary Mansion

On a tortuous path,
Oddly filled with filth,
At your hand's reach,
A facade seems above breach.

The steel more than credible,
Protecting the incredible,
Solitary mansion,
Brimmed beyond expansion.

A pair of dove,
Like angels from above,
Merge in the scope,
forming the beholder's dope.

Noise of the merry,
Is like the topping cherry,
And the want of the leeway,
Cannot be subdued midway.

Promise of the greener side,
Lets the time abide,
With a great hope,
The great hope of the warmth.

Travelogue - Italy

Day 0: Amsterdam -> Milan -> Verona -> Trento

Meeting a school friend after a long gap is always quite  enjoyable. Add to that the sight of southern Alps, some beautiful old castles, Milan and Verona, a delicious recipe for an extended weekend is effortlessly concocted. The journey started on a rainy Thursday evening from the Schipol airport, final destination being Trento, a beautiful small town located near the southern Alps. Travelling with Aswin, it was a gentle reminder of the day we landed in Amsterdam three years ago. The first part was to Milan. We reached Milan airport with minimal fuss (mainly because we were sleeping throughout the journey). The plan initially was to spend the night at a bed and breakfast place and travel to Trento the next day.

But as we checked in at the gargantuan Milan central station, we surprisingly found a train to Verona.  And thus, started our first unplanned detour and was the norm throughout the journey. We reached Verona by 2 30 in the morning and the train to Trento was a good 3 hours away, which was spent exploring an empty Verona in the cold and catching up some sleep in the train station.  We were yet to open our cameras.

Trento Welcoming us, far better than kamali I should say.

Day 1: Trento

Trento welcomed us with a brilliant cappuccino and croissant. Located midst a valley, the huge mountains were staring with an inherent awe, making the beholders elated with a faulty sense of satisfaction that a monstrous structure is out there to protect him. As we came some 4 hours earlier than anticipated, we were greeted with mixed emotions, by a rather grumpy kamali. Waking up some one 6 30 when they are not expecting you is

First and only castle we visited

not pleasant. After catching up a bit and having our second breakfast at a hostel canteen, we set out for our first destination, Buonconsiglio Castle, a 13^th  century Gothic structure of Trento. 2 hours well spent on learning about the medieval history.  After numerous photos, a sumptuous meal followed in the university Trento canteen. 

Next we stopped at the picturesque Trento University of Engineering. Think of  a place of study, on the top of a hill, majestically looking

Yours faithfully enjoying a view

down on a green canopy. Its so much entangled into nature that all the cutting edge technology in the midst look so petty and trivial.  Kamali, I pity you. You can never concentrate fully on studies living in such a beautiful place. 

Our next stop was at a park in front of the central station. Completely tired from the day’s travels, we

A view from the top.

postponed our planned trek and simply feel asleep on lush green turf. Recharged, we went up a nearby hill. Next 2 hours , we trekked, pleaded the lord, learnt nitau from kamali and last but not the least posed for pictures. I wish we had spent more time there. Predinner followed at a restaurant in the centre of the city. We watched the closing ceremony of international cycling championship and had a delicious pizza for dinner.  And finally to sign off an awesome day, we had a 3 hour long nostalgic chat discussing almost everything, literally killing off our chance to wake up early and leave for Venice. It was quite a philosophical talk (read gossip), contents of which are too profound for mere mortals to understand.

Day 2 - Trento -> Verona and Verona. Verona -> Milan

We managed to wake up and get ready by 9 30 am, and had the initial plan of visiting Venice. After a rather low profile breakfast, we zeroed in on a couple of nightclubs that we would want to visit in Milan, in case we decide against Venice. The train ride from trento to Verona is an absolute joy to behold.  The journey through the valley is filled with brilliant peaks and  motley of gothic and post gothic architecture. This train ride is one of the must from people visiting southern alps. After lot of deliberation, we decided against going to Venice, as 7 hrs is hardly the right amount of time to appreciate the beauty of Venice. Sometime in the future maybe.

By noon we reached Verona, the city of Shakespeare's great epic Romeo and Juliet. We were lucky that we visited the city on the festival of games. Some really unique games. More on

Our Photographer taking a break at the opera house.

that if I remember later. Visiting the same place where we spent the night two days back in the light of a sunny warm afternoon was a welcome relief. It was around 25 C. In Euopean terms this is the scorching heat.  A sumptuous lunch followed at a local restaurant. The brilliant Italian city center, its vibrancy and beauty is a joy to behold.

The first stop in Verona was the famous opera house, size of which is comparable to the eden gardens or the san siro. We spent a good hour or two there. Next we set on foot to a hill top that aswin had visited in his previous trip. Delicious Italian Gelato added a wonderful flavor to the quest. Since it was he day of games, every street housed a competition of its own. Another enjoyable trek followed, less picturesque than the Trento trek, but more

One of the many games

flamboyant.   Another characteristic of the trip was the short but effective photography lessons that Aswin regularly gave me. 

After coming down, we made full full use of the day ticket travelling far off to have an espresso, just for the heck of it. And traditional wine and food followed in a local festive setting, that night part of the day's celebration in Verona. If that

Another view from the top

wasnt sufficient, we had a brilliant cello concert happening in the background. One could clearly see that people were enjoying the food and wine more than music. Eventually we left the place to catch the last train from Verona to Milan. Another enlightening talk followed, once again too profound for mere mortals to understand.

Day 3: Milan and Milan -> Eindhovan -> Delft

We reached Milan around midnight and with great expectations, tried to enter some of the biggest night clubs there. The bright flare of expectations was subdued in its infancy at the entrances of not one but three night clubs.  So here is the message, never try to enter a Milan night

Duomo at Milan

club if you are not wearing an Armani, without a girl and worse -unshaven. And in truth, I have personally never felt more out of place ever. The unreal extravagance that surrounded that place somehow felt alien to the middle class semi-conservative pseudo-intellectual mind. So we were forced to spend another night aimlessly wandering, this time in Milan. And sadly for us we had the rain station completely closed, forcing us to sleep outside the station.  

Recharged with an hours sleep, we set on foot to the last destination - the humongous Duamo of Milan, on foot. We had the opulent Armani street decorating our path to the Duamo. Another gargantuan Gothic structure that blows you off your feet. We spent some time exploring it and another photo session followed.  Ironically we had good Italian pastry and coffee in Mcdy for breakfast.  Completely drained, sumptuous foods were no more

A journey to remember

recharging and sleep was the ultimate prize we yearned for.  All good things do come to an end and so did our Italian safari.  If the trip was not real enough, I returned home to the news that Arsenal bet Stoke City via three set piece goals. I truly must have been dreaming.  

                                                                          

The Gift.

Having seen his daily pocket money slashed, Raju was getting frustrated. His daily amount was so dear to him and his trophy. Not even his type of mornings, the autumn ones after a night of continuous downpour force the chirpy birds out of their slumber, carrying that fragrance of nascent rain wetting the parched earth and clouds attired with cool breeze trivialising scorching sun not more than a week ago, could cheer him. His pride had no limits when he got his first cricket bat, with all the money he successfully saved. And the first shot he played in it felt like heaven. He would do anything to have that feeling again, the feeling of complete satisfaction with a boundless satisfaction that mutes all thoughts and keeps one  floating in a heaven. But with the penny pinching beginning from his parents, his small dream and the elation surrounding it was beginning to disappear and this was making his pleasurable 20 minute walk to school dreary. His enthusiasm to proceed further simply sprouted from the unbearable consequences, absence from the class would bring. Definitely not the right kind of motivation to do something.

As he meandered along, he saw a photo of mahatma ghandhi laughing at him. Its was no sarcastic smile, but an earnest smile coming out of a 100 rs note. Raju kept staring at the smile and did not know what was to be done. The note, quite drenched from the night's downpour was lying in the plain-sight. Quick glances to either side of the road assured him that there was no other human in the vicinity. He casually bent down with a thumping heart which was acting like a caveat, and a nonchalant exterior turning deaf to the inner doomsday predictor, picking it up. He folded the wet note in this hand kerchief and placed it in between the largest book he could find in his bag and hoped all the water would be soaked off by the time he would leave the school in the evening. All he had to do was to wait for the next 8 hours listening to his gabby teachers and cantankerous class mates. 

He could not concentrate to anything going on in the class. Even teacher asking him to stand outside for not dong the homework could not distract him from running and rerunning the possibilities his 100 rupee note would bring. This brain was working overtime to optimize the route he would take after the school  and he had started faking his stomach ache, while regularly checking the degree of wetness of the folded note. And right in time for the last PT (playing time) period, his fake stomach ache was severe enough for him to be excused for, and leave for home early!!  He was lucky that the no body from the school offered to take him home. He quickly packed his bags and set out for the market pacing slowly to begin with and then hitting a top speed an Olympian would be proud of.

Ice cream, cricket stumps, Sachin tendulkar poster, a fountain pen, new china watch, overdose of pastries and cakes from the bakery, sweets from the north Indian sweet shop - the choices were so confusing. He wished he had got one of those on the road rather than the 100 rupees note.  Suddenly the sound of  shattering glass disturbed his thought process.  To his left he saw a feeble old woman, a few feet away from him looking at the shattered set of tea glasses. A few boys came running from the adjacent narrow street turned cricket pitch. The guy holding the cricket bat started hanging his head in shame and tears started rolling down from his eyes. The old lady growing visibly agitated moved towards that boy in anger. But seeing him cry, she stopped for a moment and taking a deep breath, lifted his face, and wiped his tears off. She bent down, picked the red ball that was near by and gave it to boys saying they should be more careful while playing. The boy still sobbing, got the ball from her. Raju could not listen clearly what they were talking about.

After the children were off, the old lady started slowly cleaning the glass, laboring through the process, with a small drop of tear coming out of her eyes. She collected all  the broken glass pieces and slowly walked to the end of the dustbin around the corner. Slowly returning she continued attending her customers. That night when she started clearing the tables, below one of the table she found a new set of glasses and a small chocolate bar next to it!!

P.S. the story is from a short film i saw. I was so  impressed by it that i wanted to write it again in my own words. Sadly i could not find the movie again. I someone knows the short film pls do share.