I have been travelling like crazy since October so I just thought I'll write down the number of places that I have covered in these 3 months just in case I look back on 2008 some day and then don't believe that I was once that much of a traveller:
London, Bangalore, Kolkata, Patna, Muzzaffarpur, Bhopal, Nairobi, Dubai, Jaipur, Dharamshala, Dalhousie, Chamba, Hrishikesh, Kolkata (again) and Delhi.

And some other notable books that I have read in 2008:

1. The White Tiger: Can't claim this book as great literature but if one facet of literature is also to make an attempt to steer our consciousness towards a life that we pass by on streets everyday but do not engage ourselves with, then yes, Adiga does a great job. I think all of us must read it since its' not fiction. The simmering discontent of a large no of people that the malls outshine is alive beneath the surface, and very much so.
2. The Red Sun:- I am still reading it..my fascination with understanding Naxal movement in India continues to grow with this book, no wonder abetted by the fact that I spent more than two years working in Purulia and West Midnapore. Again a mus read.
3. The Other Bolyen Girl:- History and fiction merge seamlessly..but please don't watch the film.
4. A long way home:- autobiography of a child soldier of Sierra Leone Ishmael Beah-what war does to the best of us.

I have decided to write down the names of books that I am reading currently, in order to keep a tab on my reading habits and make sure that I am reading enough. So here's a list of the last 4 books that I picked up and finished from Eloor:

1. Diary of a Manhattan Call girl: now I dont know in which category exactly to put this..with its often dark undertones of the girl who knows that her career choice would be that of a call girl since she was 8 years old is neither fluffy enough for a chick-lit, nor is it high-brow lit..but a breezy fast read.
2. The Zoya Factor:- How I wish I could be sixteen again and read TZF and have lovely dreams in the night about marrying the super-sexy Indian world cup winning cricket team captain who would look past my beauty (or rather the lack of it) and would actually notice the inner beauty which would mean that he would ignore all Miss Indias and instead would come straight into my arms..sometimes growing up isnt so much fun.
3. Marrying Anita:- a disappointing read..with the author trying hard to establish the fact that due to the amazing recovery done by the Indian economy post 1991 there's no difference between men in NY and Guragon. Didnt we know that already? At least it could have been better written.
4. The Moth Smoke:- Pakistani authors seem to be my flavour of the season..suddenly I want to grab anything written by Mohsin Hamid and Md Hanif and Moni Mohsin. I am itching to read The Reluctant Fundamentalist now. I believe strongly that to understand a country one must read its literature..therefore Afghanistan would always mean the Kite Runner to me, Iran through Persepolis and Reading Lolita, Japan through writings of Haruki Murakami and Turkey through Orhan Pamuk..who else..I liked Moth Smoke

Books I have loved in 2008

It's so hard to keep track of all the books that I have read and loved in this year..but I am trying to put in names as and when they come to me..I just LOVED reading 'The Case of Exploding Mangoes'. its brilliant dark humor had me enthralled, and the book also had one of the most tender depiction of homosexual love that I had come across in the recent times. I was laughing hysterically at many places, and also felt saddened at the fate of a country spinning so dangerously out of control. 

confessions

So the question that I am invariably asked by people these days is ' so how are you liking Delhi?' And frankly, when I look inside myself for an answer I draw a blank. It's strange but my mind remains blank when I think of the city..no emotions..

But I have a confession to make..the city's mall crowd makes me nervous..everyone's so fashionably turned up, in all the latest winter fashion, with matching boots and cardigans, that I end up like an absolute fashion reject walking down every evening in front of the N block market in my over-used brown salwar, black shawl, and scarf wound tightly around my head since I can't take too much of the cold wind that blows across my face. I look at women alighting out of their big silver cars, lovely tote bags on shoulder, a cell pressed tightly to one ear, not even a wisp of that shiny jet black hair out of place, and confidently striding across to the innumerable shops and watering holes that dot N market..and I am once again missing my Cal crowd, with their fashion-may-not-care attitude that mixes and matches anything under the sun, with their loud chatter, and in that moment I know that I don't belong here

ah..the smell of a new book

I was just returning from work when I thought I'll just peep in at Full Circle, the bookshop at GK 1 with the most fabulous book collection in Delhi. And then I saw the bookrack displaying 'The Private Patient', the latest Adam Dalgliesh murder mystery novel, and my heart did a billion summersaults...it coudnt' be true, could it, that PD James has finished one more AD novel (bless her, she's 88)? And it was that single act of going inside the shop and paying Rs.695 for the book that changed the contour of that evening..I was deliriously happy, and quite tempted to shout from rooftops 'I am the queen of the world'..and it was then that my reaction caught me by surprise..what is it about books that gives me such unadulterated pleasure that it can lift an otherwise mundane day into a memorable one? 

What I have understood since then is that books tell me that even if everything in my life goes wrong, i'll still have them to return to, to live them, to smell them, and to experience them. They are probably also the only ones where I'll find answers to my queries which will help me to make sense of the life I lead

zombie

I am in an abolsute unblogging state of mind ever since I have come to Delhi...it's certainly not that I don't have anything to blog about..there was so much that I could just write about my London trip and that itself would fill ages, but it's just that I can't bring myself to type out my thoughts anymore.