A very happy Krishna-Janmashtami to us all !!

Its the birthday of the most loved god to have adorned our planet, the naughty and mischievous  Lord Krishna ! Until a few minutes ago, celebrations were in full swing in our hostel . There was music blasting away . Although it bummed me to be sitting here typing away and not being in the thick of it downstairs, I couldn't help but use this time to say this....

Students came out in droves today, ready to let others stand on their shoulders, unified under the single aim of reaching the 'handi' that symbolizes the favourite snack of the beloved Krishna. This entire ritual is  a recreation of how His buddies helped Him steal the jar of  butter when Yashoda wasn't around.
There was water , mud and colour everywhere, there were people everywhere-standing on top of each other, falling, cheering. No one cared about the soiled clothes, the scratches from falling again and again, broken spectacles were cast aside, bruises dusted , friends patted on the back for trying again after falling flat into the ground.
They kept falling and kept coming back. And the cheer kept getting louder each time. It was a strange sense of unity, even those dousing water buckets on the 'gwalas' trying to get at the  'dahi-handi' did not seem like the other side, they cheered the loudest when the 'handi' was finally reached and broken.

Its strange how my mind felt peaceful watching them like this, when people around you are happy it rubs off on you.  This was one moment where there was no animosity towards the one trying to make you fall, they were a part of your celebration when you finally succeeded. Maybe such rituals exist to remind us that no matter what the situation is , if we approach it together we can extract the best out of it and be happy in the process. I have always been a sucker for unity and watching people being merry together is the most beautiful sight in the world. I wish Syria and The United States could have a 'dahi-handi' festival !!

Cheers !

AND THE MOUNTAINS ECHOED : A REVIEW

Anyone who has read the first two literary masterpieces by Khaled Hosseini  can  identify with this book right from the first word . Al- though it has no connection (except Afghanistan) to the other two books , the characters, their losses, their love and their situations will give you a slight sense of Déjà vu.  
This book has outgrown the war that destroyed Afghanistan. Now the characters are not victims of the war literally, but they have been affected in some way or the other by the aftermath. And the characters , though Afghanis , are globally spread.
But unlike the other two, it lacks that soulful connection to the un- fortunate country, and borders on being a medium of encasing the author’s knowledge about whatever has happened there.
The narrative begins beautifully – the relationship of a little boy with his baby sister, the unconditional love he feels for her, and the brutality of fate that tears them apart. But that’s that. After that, it’s just a gallimaufry of storylines.
Too many plots and too many characters kill the show. And the worst part is that when you finally begin to feel connected with the character , after reading 80-odd pages about who they are and how the war affected them , they are done and won’t return as an important part of the central storyline.
Each buildup is heart-touching in itself.  But their relevance to the main characters and their story is lost. Makes the reader wonder what the point was in knowing that character so deeply.
Although its still light years ahead of its contemporary fiction novels in terms of the attention to detail, and emotional content, its still very poor competition to its predeces- sors and in all fairness, stands no- where in comparison to A Thou- sand Splendid Suns.  
This book would have been a treat had Abdullah and Pari been the only focus of the book. But as the spotlight shifted from them, the mountains were lost and all that remained were the barren bland plains with nothing much to keep a reader hooked.
In a nutshell, a good but disap- pointing read.