A Conversation


It’s 2.30 am at night.

My mother refuses to sleep.

She is a profound Dementia patient and as is common with them she has sleep deficiency,. Her Neuropsychiatrist is of the opinion that she has only a bit of working memory left.

But she does sometimes talk about the remote past.

I resent these sleepless nights as I have to go for work the next morning. But then I think perhaps these are the moments I will miss someday.

So, we continue having this great conversation.

Mother : I had given you ₹ 800/- for the house?

I : Which house?

Mother : 124 No. (Where she used to stay before marriage. Most probably that whole area must have been demolished by now.)

I : I bought this flat with that money.

Mother : Which flat?

I : This one. Where you are now.

Mother : What is the number of this house?

I : 33

She is not satisfied. So she repeats her question about the money that she has given me. I repeat my answer. The same conversation goes on twice, thrice.

The fourth time it’s a bit different.

Mother: I gave you ₹800/- for the house.

I : I bought this house with that money I told you.

Mother : Do you think I am an ass. Who gets a house for ₹800/-?

I : Mother you are making a fool of everyone, including the physician. You know everything. You are up to date. Your memory is intact. And am going to tell this to the doctor tomorrow.

Mother: Who are you?

In our country Dementia patients are known as tertiary patients. Tertiary patients are those who are not medically treated properly. Forgetfulness and loss of memory are taken as signs of old age which just happen with age and do not require medical attention. They are incurable and end only with the demise of the individual. So no botheration need be taken and the oldies talking gibberish have to be either ignored or laughed away because they have the biggest issue and that is they are old and in their second childhood. In my extended family, the father was not allowed to be in social gatherings as he was a huge embarrassment to the so called educated elite family.

It goes without saying that Dementia patients require a lot of care, compassion, love, patience and perseverance. Caregivers are required to take care of themselves more as it is very stressful to deal with such patients.

My mother’s physician always asks about how I am keeping before moving on to my mother’s health condition.

Dementia is not curable but can be slightly contained if diagnosed early. One should not take habitual forgetfulness lightly. However, dementia is different from attention deficit issues. It’s best to consult your medical practitioner if you feel you are not able to remember ordinary day to day details off and on. Though it is very difficult to recognise the early signs. I often regret I could not figure out the signs in my mother’s case when she was suffering from unusual anxiety about little little things, used to unnecessarily worry if guests were expected at home, was fearful of strangers or if the calling bell rang at odd hours.

She would also get very upset if I was late from office, grocery shop, running errands or personal visits to the neighborhood. Once she followed me to the neighbour’s leaving the front door ajar in her house gown and walker. I thought she was being odd and encroaching in my personal space. But it never occured to me that she was traumatized of being left alone. I repent my lack of awareness and the consequent delay in her diagnosis. By the time we realised that there was something terribly wrong with her she was in an advance stage.

In our country even General Practitioners treat Dementia as one of the many old age issues. However, Dementia is a borderline disease which requires neurological as well as psychiatric treatments. It is very difficult to find a physician who specialises in treating the disease. As I said there are very few who view the condition as one which requires specialized care or treatment. But as per statistics available online India has 8.8 million Dementia cases which will increase considerably by 2050.

Unfortunately, we do not even have any support groups who can spread awareness amongst masses and the need and expertise for dedicated care for such patients.

Dementia patients are to be handled delicately. Caregivers need to be adequately trained. Even in hospitals, which call themselves super speciality centres, do not have appropriately trained nurses, attendants and other staff who can handle such patients. As a result, they are badly neglected even in ICUs and HDUs.

Therefore, whenever mother’s attending physician advises hospitalization (other ailments – my mother has a complex medical history) my first reaction is to arrange all facilities at home so that she should be spared the ordeal. In worst cases where it has been unavoidable I have secured special permission for self and her regular caretaker to go feed and check upon her even in ICUs.

The purpose of this post is to implore readers not to ignore Dementia as just an old age issue. Dementia patients cannot express their needs, pains, discomforts and worries. Their comfort zones are very crucial for them and they don’t appreciate any disruption therein. For example, my mother used to get very perturbed if the wall clock in her room stopped working. We had to change the cells in no time. They need patient hearing, loving care , lots of day to day management and diversions and a whole lot of understanding and observations.

If you care please do share this post as much as possible to spread awareness and concern. 🙏🙏🙏🙏

WORDFUL WEDNESDAY


I found this attractive vegetable stall near my office who even sold eggs along with veggies. And that is quite unusual in our country because vegetarians, mostly, do not eat eggs. Only eggetarians do, i.e., vegetarians, with an exception, who eat eggs but not any other non-vegetarian items like chicken, mutton, fish etc.

The vegetable seller was a good salesman, had fresh stock always, a few uncommon vegetables too and was open to taking non-cash payments i.e. payments through apps. Very comfortable indeed in every possible way. But for the rising inflation which has hiked up the prices of every item in the market, day to day shopping for home like groceries would be fun.

I have not visited him for quite some time and hope he is doing well. I just spotted this photo on my mobile and remembered him. Some day in near future I will visit his shop. Till then…

https://panaecea.wordpress.com

We Humans


Human beings are full of contradictions and unpredictable. Therefore, laws governing Society cannot be perfected with certainty .

Human beings are social animals too. They are gregarious by nature. They live in groups. Initially they bunched together in tribes. Tribes occupying a specified territory perpetuated a string of norms and mores which laid the foundation of respective cultures. Civilizations came into existence along with cultural intermingling. And somewhere we lost our originality but perhaps not our primitiveness.

At the same time, humans are selfish, self loving and self centered. All these traits became more prominent with familial bonding.

This preface is to two different incidents.

Incident 1

The other day in the Metro I got a seat which was a rare boon.

I have medical issues and commuting the one and a half hour journey standing is a simple no-no.

A few other passengers boarded who needed seats as much as I did.

I did not want to vacate mine.

I prayed.

Felt guilty.

Decided given my age I had a right to it.

Others offered them theirs.

Issue resolved.

Relieved I dozed off.

Incident 2

Platform lift was almost full.

An old man relying on a stick walked slowly towards it.

A middle aged lady extended her arm to stop the lift from shutting.

The old man took his time to reach the lift.

Everyone waited patiently for him.

On entering, leaving his stick aside he folded his hands and bowed to the lady who had stopped the lift for him.

A silent gesture of genuine thankfulness.

Prologue

Incident 2 humbled me and also made me feel guiltier.

Not because I did not give away my seat to someone who required it more.

But because I had those wicked thoughts which pointed a castigating finger towards me.

We are sinners in our own way.

We pay the price knowingly or unknowingly.

Let’s acknowledge it with honesty.

Just that.

Pic from Google

Suspects Versus Sleuths


Again credit goes to my esteemed friend Rekha Rao of The Book Decoder fame that I came to know about the #ReadChristie2023 challenge wherein every month books by Agatha Christie will be suggested for reading based on a prompt. I know it is not possible for me to diligently finish the monthly challenge within deadline. But I have decided to pick up one of the suggested readings to go through at my own pace just to refresh my memory.

In the month of January 2023, one of the suggested readings was Cards On The Table. I picked this one up as I vaguely remember reading it earlier. However, a few months back I saw the film “based on the book”.

Mr. Shaitana (wonder whether etymologically the source of the name is the Hindi word Shaitan meaning the devil) throws a Party. There are eight guests – four sleuths and four suspects. Post dinner Shaitana purposely divides the invitees in two groups to play Bridge in two different rooms – The sleuths – Superintendent Battle of Scotland Yard, Colonel Race a well experienced Secret Service Agent, Hercule Poirot, the celebrity private detective and Mrs. Ariadne Oliver, the famous crime fiction writer and the suspects – Mrs. Lorrimer, a dignified widow and an expert Bridge player, Mr. Despard, an adventurous traveler, Dr. Roberts, a successful Doctor of rich patients and Ms. Anne Meredith, a young beautiful girl of humble background. Shaitana gets killed in the very room the suspects are playing cards. Now it is the sleuths who have to find out the culprit who did Shaitana in. Perhaps this is the ploy of Shaitana’s making.

All the four suspects have skeletons in their cupboards. But they have never been caught. The misdeeds committed by them are way beyond detection. There are no clues left to pursue. The only way to catch the culprit is to dig their past to establish a connect to Shaitana. Who is so desperate to kill him and why?

This time Poirot takes a very different route of deduction. The process of elimination is based on how the four players play their hands in the game. As I am not into Bridge it is difficult for me to figure out Poirot’s method. But it is the way hands are called and scores are kept reveal a lot about the character of the players.

Superintendent Battle does the spadework of raking the suspects’ past, jotting down meticulous notes and interrogating people who know them in the past. Mrs. Oliver is more dramatic in her ways. Colonel Race does a thorough verification on Despard’s antecedents. All four exchange notes but it is Poirot who employs his grey cells and imagination to nab the murderer at long last.

The film (TV adaptation), on the other hand, is a surprise as I watched it again after reading the book. Names of characters are changed. The narrative itself is considerably modified to plug in the gaps, perhaps intentionally, left in the book. Sir David Suchet, as Poirot dominates. All the other characters are just how they are in the book. Shaitana is as dark and devilish as in the book. But as Poirot remarks he is stupid too because he invites his end. Major Despard is as handsome and upfront as he is in the book. Mrs. Lorrimer is well bred personified. Anne Meredith is pretty and sweet and “innocent”. Dr. Roberts is the jovial medical practitioner. I was having difficulty in visualizing the character of Dr. Roberts while reading the book. The film gives it a face. Rhoda Dawe’s character has been given a different shade. Colonel Race is Colonel Hughes in the movie facilitating the investigation with his conventional wisdom. The redoubtable Superintendent Battle has been replaced by Superintendent Wheeler with , ahem, a flaw- angle to him. Mrs. Ariadne Oliver is as quirky as ever with her apple cores!

Christie has written this book in a different style. There are scores of assumptions as the past cannot be recreated. There are insinuations which are left to readers’ imagination or interpretation. In a very smart but crooked way the murderer is made to give in whereas it may not have been possible in a straightforward manner because every action of the present is related to the long gone past.

But Christie’s message is clear – the past haunts and returns where you least expect it.

I enjoyed reading the book as much as I enjoyed watching the movie. The altered narrative of the movie does not jar the impact of the book. The book is not overshadowed by the film which often happens in many other cases where the cinematic adaptation takes over the original writing. Both stay in their respective places without competing with each other. After watching the film one does feel “it could have happened that way” as the book is not as explicit as the film is. The way a reader connects the dots while reading the book comes alive in the film.

And that is the beauty of a classic. It lends to a plethora of , I would say, indications. That is why Christie is a class apart. She pointedly brings forth that history is not all black and white. Its a colour grey. Subtle. Undercover. One has to put two and two together to build up what is no more. That’s what we are always doing. Aren’t we?

Fun, Funnier, Funniest


I do not generally write a review of books written in languages other than English if I am not certain that there is a translated version available of the same. But this one has. So I thought I will give a glimpse of this “Tall Tale” which is a landmark in Bengali Children’s Literature. Rarely there is a review of children’s books. I personally feel there is also a dearth of such books which are just pure fun.

The original book is named Manojder Adbhut Bari which in English means Manoj’s Strange House. The book is originally written by legendary Bengali author Shri Shirshendu Mukhopadhyay and translated by Shri Abhijit Gupta.

Manoj, Saroj and Putul are siblings. Manoj has a rambling ancestral property which hosts a horde of crazy people like Dukkhohoron Babu, the tutor, who cannot teach unless he squats on his hinges. Satish Bharadwaj, the family priest, has two pet ghosts, Handu and Bhundu who are at present on vacation. Thakurjhee or Manoj’s aunt is obsessed with cleaning the house. Ganesh Ghoshal, the music teacher, who is chronic suicidal and tries out different ways to murder himself at least twice or thrice every month.

Manoj’s father Rakhohori Babu is a strict disciplinarian. His younger brother Haradhon Babu is a scientist specializing in creating hybrid plants and animals like Goriman which is a combination of monkey and man. Rakhohori Babu’s youngest brother, Bhajohori Babu, is an ace bargainer who has the unique ability of buying everything at half the rate available in the market. He is nicknamed Bajaru. But Bhajohori is also meek and easily cowered by his erstwhile school master who still treats him like a school kid.

But all hell breaks loose when Bhajohori stumbles upon a revolver and the lion in him is awakened. He decides to take revenge on all and sundry who have earlier mistreated him like the fish monger who hides good quality fish from him, the local moneylender who charges high interest rate from his clientele, Shardul Babu who buys everything at market rate without bargaining thereby hiking up the cost.

The revolver actually belongs to the Police Detective Barodacharan Babu who is as eccentric as others. He enters every premise of crime and detection by the backdoor (rather scaling the backyard wall, more precisely) and not through the front door. According to him, that is the sign of an ace detective.

Then there is a miserly king, Gobindo Narayan, who keeps on hording currency forgetting that even money loses its value if not used in time. His favourite past time is counting the mountain of notes stacked in a secret cellar. His only son, Kandarpa Narayan, got lost when he was very young. Detective Baradacharan is still looking out for him and believes that the clue to finding Kandarpa is somewhere to be found in Manoj’s strange house.

In the meantime, Bhajohori lands up amidst the local goons who loot at night and do odd jobs in the morning. The leader of the bandits is a young boy who looks and behaves differently. The goons captivate Bhajohori and decide to behead him because he tries to punish one of them (Kanai, the fishmonger) brandishing the revolver. However, the young leader has a unique plan. That night they are going to rob the king’s palace and Bhajohori is going to lead them. Bhajohori happily agrees under the effect of a glass of sharbat he is forcefully made to drink.

In the meanwhile, receiving a bunch of complaints from the localites about Bhajohori’s weird behaviour with a revolver, the Head Constable Nishi Babu lands up in Manoj’s house to arrest the errant Bhajohori. However, thakurjhee will not let the police force enter the premise with their muddy boots. Thus ensues a battle led by Manoj’s aunt armed with a wooden stick against the police who are soon defeated.

Amidst all this maddening chaos, will Baroda be able to find the king’s lost son? Will Bhajohori get caught by Nishi Babu? Will the dacoits be able to loot the king’s devalued wealth?

You have to read Mad & Madder to get answers to all these questions. I like reading children’s books. They are de-stressing and also steeped in ancient wisdom and values which adult fiction sometimes overlook. Also, these are books full of pure, unadulterated humour at times with an undercurrent of satire. You have to scoop out the deeper meanings while having hoots of laughter at the comical behaviour of all the characters who are in their own quirky ways highly relatable and even sometimes locatable around us.

I have read the book in original, i.e., in Bengali. So I cannot comment on the translated version. But translations are sometimes equally good and open the window to worthy literary works in other languages to the world.

I recommend this book to all parents who have little kids at home because laughter does not have any language or geographical barriers. They are just health boosters.

Kali and Chuk Chuk


Being the godmother of all the strays in my Block, I had to take care of Kali and Chuk Chuk in the freezing cold of the Capital last year. Yes, all of them have names. We also know who is related to whom like Yellow is Chuk Chuk’s maternal uncle whereas Bhalu is just a family friend. Kali is Chuk Chuk’s mother. When she was expecting Chuk Chuk and her brothers we were all very worried whether she would be able to survive the physical and mental trauma of giving birth to her puppies as she herself was extremely weak and fearful of all other dogs. But her elder sister took care of her, I suppose, pre and post delivery, and three siblings were born on a blessed day in the winter of 2022.

As soon as forty five days (post birth) were over, Chuk Chuk’s brothers were picked up by unknown foster families and I hope they are getting the love and care they deserve. But Kali, being possessive of her offsprings, felt their absence very keenly and would keep looking around for them and cry bitterly.

Mind you, she herself was underage when she became a mother of three healthy infants. So, we had to give her the emotional and psychological support in addition to saving her from the bitter cold of December. Sorry, I do not have a picture of Kali and will post as soon as I get an opportunity to click.

Our neighbourhood is dog friendly and we took it in turns to give shelter to the mother and daughter in our homes from November and December of 2022 to January 2023.

https://panaecea.wordpress.com

However, Chuk Chuk was a growing and very energetic and inquisitive kid. She destroyed three pairs of shoes of our kindly neighbour. She attacked my Skechers but I saved the pair with minor injury in time. Thereafter, the furnitures were her target which I wouldn’t allow.. She was not toilet trained and did not hesitate to pee or poop anywhere she felt like. But the worst was when she became playful in the middle of the night and nudged and nibbled my pet Rinky or tried to occupy her bed.

Rinky is puppy friendly but she is also very particular and possessive about her own things. And mind it, she doesn’t like to be disturbed during her dreamtime. So frictions began. An irritated Rinky would frighten Chuk Chuk off who would break into a loud cry of protest , wake us all up and wet the floor in mortal fear. Chaos….chaos….

https://panaecea.wordpress.com

We were unable to understand Chuk Chuk’s nocturnal needs. Then one fine night when both Chuk Chuk and her mother were safely ensconced in my house we knew why Chuk Chuk would become so fidgety at night. She was with her mother in one makeshift bed and as the time came she suddenly took to her mother’s breasts and started suckling though she was past that stage. The sound she made in the silence of the night was chuk…chuk…chuk. Her mother was also not bothered by her this behaviour. She welcomed and hugged her. I guess it made them both warm and comfortable. Perhaps Chuk Chuk was in the habit of doing that at night though she was too well fed by the residents of our Block.

It’s her habit of suckling and making that funny noise in the silence of the night which gave her the name Chuk Chuk. Earlier she was called out by various other names. Ajay, the dogkeeper of the Block, called her Chawanni which means twenty five paise or four annas (very small coins) because of her miniscule size and her determination not to grow. My mother’s attendant named her Chingri which means Shrimp. But now the girl has got a proper and respectable name – Chuk Chuk.

With the change in weather now she is up and about and always on the look out to come nside and encroach upon Rinky ‘s bed. Rinky, being the occasional saintess that she is, now treats her with dispassionate detachment and allows her a small portion of her huge mattress. Chuk Chuk has still not been able to control her peeing habit and does it more when excited and delighted to see us. However, Rinky, being the eternal mother, has all of a sudden started milking. For her both Kali and Chuk Chuk are like her children being so small.

Kali’s health has improved and we are thinking of getting her sterilized in a bid to control the stray population in our area. Kali is absolutely black….jet black. That’s why the name. But what we have not been able to figure out till now is how come all her pups are pure white or light beige in colour. Who is the culprit ? I think I will put my sleuth-ish neighbour on the trail to unravel this mystery.

Till then….

This is Chuk Chuk and Bhalu

The “Lost” Thread


When a film picks up issues which are usually sidelined, raises questions which make us ill at ease and rakes up premises which are conveniently ignored , it is time to talk, discuss and debate about it without being depreciative and brusque.

Lost (2023) pivots round an investigative journalist, Vidhi Sahni (Yami Gautam Dar) who lives with her retired grandfather or Nanu(Pankaj Kapur). Vidhi is investigating the case of a missing Dalit boy Ishan Bharti (Tushar Pandey). As she delves deeper she is certain that there is more to it than just an everyday missing report. The local police is giving it a Maoist colour whereas Ishan was an apolitical person and merely an ardent street theatre artist. He was into a serious relationship with an over ambitious girl named Ankita Chauhan (Pia Bajpayee), who is being used by the local politician Ranjan Varman (Rahul Khanna) for his personal political benefits. Ishan was last seen in her flat (gifted by Varman) before he goes missing. There is huge pressure on police not to interrogate Ankita in the case. Vidhi, on the other hand, is also being threatened to keep off the investigation. Varman’s goons also hit at Vidhi’s Nanu but to no avail. The spunky old man proves to be more than a handful for them. There are two possibilities in this case – either Ishan has been kidnapped by Varman and killed or he has been brainwashed by the Maoist Leader Bhim Rana and gone rebel. It is for Vidhi to get to the right trail and find Ishan.

Vidhi is wedded to her profession which affects her personal relationship with her parents as well as her boy friend Jeet (Neil Bhupalam). She is very close to her Nanu who is not only her friend, philosopher and guide but also the voice of rationale when she gets overly emotional and involved in her work. Vidhi’s idealism at times borders on activism. Her boss has to constantly mentor her not to cross over the lakshmanrekha where her career and life can be endangered. But Vidhi gives more importance to her conscience than protocol which may be a downside of how she is built. But don’t you need people like that in your stereotypical world who think differently, act differently and function differently?

Lost is all about Vidhi seeking the truth following clue after clue in the myriad gullies of old Kolkata where the city itself becomes a character pregnant with mystery given its sordid political history, it’s laidback wakefulness and it’s complex cultural miliue.

Lost very convincingly portrays the hard work behind authentic investigative journalism sans the sensationalism which has become easy avenue of revenue grossing these days. Again there is painful realism intercepting every now and then where straightforward journalism is kick boxed by heavily laced ideology. Should a journalist be only a non partisan reporter? A bystander? A spectator recounting a story? What if he or she is also a humanist ? An idealist? What is the ultimate motto of “clean” journalism? To build and influence public opinion? If yes, which way?

Lost tries to scoop up too many issues. It’s the film’s flipside. It questions patriarchy. It questions the rationale behind extremism – their dubious claim of giving a “dignified life” to the underdogs of the society. A woman’s dedication to her profession which in our society is seen through suspicion tinted glasses, more so, if it comes in the way of expected course of life. But to me the most significant amidst all this labyranthine mess is finding that wee bit of soul satisfaction which at the end of a gruelling task brings in. When Vidhi hugs her Nanu, out of sheer delight, after her story comes to a justified end.

Lost ends abruptly and leaves a lot many loose threads untied. As I have often said earlier the story begins where it ends because life is never simply living happily ever after. We humans have a tendency to make it complicated as we choose to exploit every situation our own way like Varman, like Bhim Rana, like Ankita Chauhan. But the silver linings in our overcast life-sky are people like Nanu, outstandingly performed by the veteran Pankaj Kapur, Vidhi, a role smartly chosen by Yami who carries the entire movie on her shoulders and Ishan, who does not buckle under killing pressure and is able to make a choice of his own. To give the devil it’s due Rahul Khanna as the suave but deadly politician, like many times before, swept me off my feet. Director, Aniruddh Roy Chowdhury, has again taken up an unusual and difficult theme after Pink. Kudos to him for that. A tighter and unidimensional script would have added more credibility to the message of the film. Last but not the least, Avik Mukhopadhyay’s stunning cinematography brings Kolkata alive once again after Kahani wherein the city itself becomes an integral part of the narrative and one cannot think of dissociating the plot from the backdrop.

Trivia – The film premiered at the Chicago South Asian Film Festival and received a standing ovation. It was selected to be the closing film of the Atlanta Indian Film Festival. In Asia it premiered at the 53rd International Film Festival held in Goa. Lost is now streaming on Zee5. All those who wish to see meaningful mainstream movie can watch it now.

A No-Body-Murder Mystery


I have a swollen, painful throat, feverish feeling, blocked nose. The only thing I can do is read. So I finished reading Lies by T M Logan. I will not say its the perfect book to read when you are down with so many physical ailments. But as Logan is, it rushes you along. After The Holiday, I have more or less, understood his style of writing. The protagonist is a man or woman of values, loving, caring and of principles. But as it happens with this world, good people are always entrapped, without their knowing, in vicious grips of deceit and deviousness.

The same happens with Joseph Lynch (Joe), an English Teacher of a respectable school who cares deeply for his only kid William (Will). He is kind of a house husband who goes to work three days a week. His beautiful wife, Melissa (Mel), is an ambitious corporate. Joe loves his wife and does not mind her career mindedness or busy schedule which also includes her regular sports activity (tennis). Joe, Mel and Will are a threesome having a decent, happy, normal, routined life. Its their exclusive club as Joe believes.

Mel’s college mate Beth is just the opposite in nature. She is graceful, poised, dignified, always contented to be in the shadow of her go-getter, multi millionaire, alpha male husband Ben Delaney. Ben Delaney is a computer genius – he breathes and lives computer. During their family get togethers, Joe has felt the difference between himself and Ben in more than one way. But it does not bother him much because he is very satisfied with his wife and kid.

One fine day, picking up Will from school, Will and Joe spot Mel’s car. They want to give her a surprise but unfortunately Joe catches her having an animated conversation with Ben. Joe’s instincts say that Mel is not safe. He follows her back but loses track. However, he comes across Ben in the car park. Ben seems angry. Their conversation turns into a heated argument giving way to a fight. Joe pushes Ben. Ben falls and loses consciousness. In the meantime, Will, sitting in the car, has an asthmatic attack. Joe rushes him home for nebulization. Later, settling down Will, when he comes back to the car park to find Ben, he cannot locate him or his car. Joe realizes that earlier he has dropped his mobile somewhere there which is also missing.

When Mel comes home she at first denies having met Ben during the day but later confesses that Ben has been having a huge crush on her and is determined to continue having a relationship with her at the expense of both their marriages. Mel wants to put an end to this mad obsession. That is why she met him this afternoon to make him understand. Soon after, Beth arrives with more bad news. Gradually, Joe and Mel learn that Beth is having issues with her marriage. Ben is temperamental and carries a shotgun, He is also abusive and cannot rest in peace till he wins a situation. But Beth, being a devoted wife, wants Ben back who has left the house in an inebriated state in the middle of the night.

Thereafter Ben is missing. But Joe is aware that he is hiding somewhere near because he is constantly spying on him. He has hacked his Facebook Account by posting photographs of his altercation with him in the car park. He is sending insinuating messages to him from anonymous account. He is watching him on his web cam. He is nowhere but everywhere.

In the meanwhile, Detective Naylor is on the lookout for Ben and building up a case against Joe for a no-body-murder. Joe’s missing mobile is found in the shrubs where the earth seems to have been “recently disturbed”. Joe seeks his Solicitor Larssen’s advice who opines that he should cooperate with the Police which also implies a probable custodial remand till found innocent. Joe, the gentleman that he is, feels extremely sorry for Beth and protective towards his wife, Mel. As a result of Ben’s online stalking, Joe has also been suspended from his job. Giving in to the Police means a prolonged wait in jail, losing his social prestige, whatever is left of that, and more importantly losing his face as a father before his son.

So Joe decides to find out where Ben is hiding. Against Larssen’s expert opinion, he heads towards the suburbs where Ben’s mother lives. He is sure Ben is somewhere there, lurking, mocking Joe, making fun of his inferiorities, jeering at his incapabilities and playing hide and seek. But in doing so Joe is now a confirmed fugitive. Although, his motive is to discover the actual culprit behind this bizzarre game, its only a matter of time whether he will come across the ultimate truth or uncover more lies which may disintegrate his entire life forever.

This time Logan did not surprise but sadden me. How far can you go in the name of love is the key question behind this edge of the seat chase intercepted by suspicion, deviousness, lies, deceit and bloody encounters. After reading the book, the only thought that comes to mind is that the premise on which the suspense thriller is based, may have been resolved in a different, more calm and undisruptive, manner. We live in an age where things which are not routine are also in the long run acceptable. In this case also, without disclosing any spoiler, coming to terms with life in a more mature way, if not for yourself but at least for the sake of your family, may have been more judicious.

Lies disappoint you because it slays the values which are foundational to a congenial family life and memorable childhood. A joyful, secured, supportive and comfort driven formative years are the bedrock of a strong, steady, decent overall growth towards adulthood. Lies hacks that. (Perhaps it also makes way for a sequel, who knows?)

My prime concern here is not bringing to book the wrong doer but the murder of innocence. What is Will going through in all this – when he sees his father, his “matey”, losing everything in life one after the other? He is an intelligent kid. He absorbs what is going on around him. Asks direct questions to his mother. What will happen to him when the truth is spilled before him? Or you patch the truth up with another pile of lies for the sake of your only child? Sad, isn’t it?

Last but not the least, Lies definitely makes one scary and wary of social networking, online search engines and apps and all electronic functioning which is the life line of today’s living.

I wish writers of suspense thrillers will pay a little attention to the fact that just to dish out a multi million grosser bestseller, in addition to being maddeningly racy, overwhelmingly red herring ridden and a hose pipe gushing adrenaline flow, should also not disregard the basic values of life, the ancient wisdom on which this world is believed to exist and progress and the eternal thread of love, care, compassion and faith by which humans are bonded and civilizations survive. Though it may be an anathema but surely something to hold on to even when the world around you is crumbling down in a nightmarish downslide.

Also shared on Goodreads

My Two Bit Gyaan On Gaan Part III


Those who have not read Part I and Part II can read them here and here

As we grow older the past becomes more and more clear in our memories and dear to our hearts. However, when I look back I find my entire life has been a never ending journey of recreating the past. Here by past I mean my formative years. I love re-reading the books which I used to read in school. I love to listen to the songs which I would hear on radio when I wan in my early and late teens. I love to fill my home with those artifacts which we were in habit of using in days of yore. For example, the earthen pot for storing portable water. The water in the pot used to be cool and carry the earthy fragrance of the pot. My father would mix a tiny pinch of alum to purify it which further added to its flavour. I still buy an earthen pot beginning of each summer notwithstanding the refrigerator at home. Chilled water from the fridge is a cause of sore throat and generally avoided.

But this post is not about earthen pots but all about songs. At 9.00 PM sharp, me and my sister would sit by to listen to the radio after studies. My sister was fond on English songs. On certain days of the week a Program was aired which played the popular songs (Western) of those days. I have forgotten the name of the Program but the songs I have not. The other day I came across one of those which made our hearts soar. I shared the You Tube link with sis on WhatsApp. She was overjoyed as she was also searching for the same song for quite sometime.

The deep sonorous voice of British Song Writer and Singer, Roger Whittakar is charming enough. The beautiful lyrics weaved in wistful notes still hold the same magic. Do listen in.

The next song tells a story. I liked its beat and catchy tune. First heard this song at my cousin’s who had an enviable collection of Long Playing Records and the shorter ones (45 rpms). Pat Boone was an American singer and actor of the 50s and 60’s. Sharing one of my all time favourites sung by him.

How can the list be complete without Frank Sinatra and Nancy Sinatra. So here it is.

I hope you all will also love these songs. Let me also know your yester year favourites.

Harbinger of Spring – 2023


Yesterday, i.e. 26th January 2023 was a day of double celebrations.

On this day every year we celebrate as Republic Day – the day on which the Constitution of India came into effect in 1950 replacing the Government of India Act, 1935, as the governing document of the country, thereby, establishing the Republic of India separate from the British Raj. The Constitution was adopted by the Indian Constituent Assembly on 26th November 1949 and came into effect on 26th January 1950. 26th January was chosen as Republic Day because on this day in 1930 Indian National Congress had proclaimed the Declaration of Indian Independence. India got independence on 15th of August 1947. Yesterday was our 74th Republic Day.

Yesterday was also Basant or Vasant Panchami , the fifth day of the month Magha of lunisolar calendar which earmarks the preparation of arrival of King of all Seasons – the Spring. the Vasanta Utsava or Spring Festival is celebrated forty days before Spring as it takes forty days for any season to come into full bloom.

In Northern part of India it is still winter while in Central, Eastern and Western parts of India Spring almost sets in. Every region celebrates this day in its own way. It is a Hindu Festival. Sikhs celebrate it too. On this day everyone dresses in yellow to mark the ripening of the yellow flowers of the mustard crop.

We Bengalis celebrate the Saraswati Puja on this day. Saraswati is the Goddess of Knowledge and Creativity. She is draped in white which symbolizes purity in its highest form. She holds the Veena, a musical instrument similar to the Sitar, on one hand and gives her blessings with the other hand. On this day we keep all our books, copies, note books and text books at her feet to seek her blessings.

We worship the beautiful deity with flowers and mantras. The mantras are repeated after the priest with flowers in hand. This is known as Pushpanjali. Later we partake of the Bhog Prasaad which generally consists of khichdi made up of yellow lentil and rice, pakoras or deep fried vegetables marinated in thick chick pea floor, laabra, a very tasty vegetable curry, sweet and tangy tomato chutney and paayesh made of condensed and sweetened milk and rice. The making of Maha Bhog is a very elaborate process. The ladies who cook cannot taste the Bhog in between. But all the ingredients put in it have to be in the right quantity and measure so that the cooked meal turns out perfect in taste. Also, since the Bhog Prasaad is made with great concentration and focus (so that nothing should go wrong) it always tastes outstandingly delicious.

Rangoli or Aalpona in Bangla is drawn to decorate the dais on which the deity is placed. In earlier times, Aalpona (in white) was drawn with powdered rice soaked in milk. But nowadays acrylic paints, water and other colours are being used. Aalpona or Rangoli making is an art in itself. Only a few are gifted with the grace of the Goddess to create it to perfection.

Before distributing the Bhog Prasaad it is customary to take the deity’s blessings by calling out in chorus -“Saraswati Mai ki Jai” thrice which means Hail Mother Saraswati.

Yesterday, being Thursday, for Bengalis it was also the day of Lakshmi Puja. Lakshmi is the Goddess of Riches in all material forms. Mythologically speaking, Saraswati and Lakshmi are siblings and it is said that they are not in good terms with each other. In olden times, it was believed that the two siblings have a love hate relationship- those who are devotees of Saraswati or Seekers of Knowledge are never blessed with worldly riches and those who are devouts of Lakshmi only go for material well being not giving enough importance to learning and knowledge seeking.

But these are all folklores to teach people that both are important – education as well as material success – and one cannot thrive without the other.

Here are some pics taken at the Kali Bari or Kali Temple where Saraswati Puja took place yesterday. We attended the Puja with our family on the special invite of the Temple priest. It is also an opportunity for community gathering and bonding as everyone, dressed in white or yellow traditional dresses, come to the Temple ground to attend the Puja, worship, eat Bhog and bond with each other.

We spent a good three and a half hours together in the afternoon and left as the clouds started hovering and the temperature dropped considerably.

Way back home, at the traffic signal, we saw a papadwallah (street hawker selling papad made of lentils or potatoes quite similar to large chips) taking a selfie on his smartphone. As I was going to click the funny scene the lights changed and we had to move on.

We all smilingly admitted that a street hawker now affording a smartphone is really indicative of India Shining!!!

The Goddes on the Dais

Rangoli or Aalpona