Actually... I Met Them: A Memoir by Gulzar

 

Title: Actually… I Met Them: A Memoir
Author: Gulzar
Publisher: Penguin Random House (2021)
Genre: Non-Fiction, Autobiography 
ISBN: 978-0670096077
Pages: 176

In his memoir, Actually… I Met Them, Gulzar Saab recollects hauntingly beautiful memories of his people ─ mentors, peers, and colleagues who have left an impact on his soul.

‘The artistic landscape is made up of diversity of talents. There will always be those who are nomads, radiant with talent, and transient like comets. We must learn to accept such people on their own terms.’

Basically, this memoir-ish book is a collection of 18 articles. Each chapter is a celebration itself.  It begins with Bimal Roy, his first mentor who eventually becomes a father-figure to him.

Gulzar Saab initiates this chapter by describing his love for Bengali language and how it paves his path into the cinema world, ‘I had a separate personal interest in Bimal Roy’s works. Since most of his films were adaptations of Bengali literature and I was a literature nerd through and through.’ 

He goes on to talk about his Bengali friends, who tempted him to start learning the language. Twist came when he was sent off to Bombay, where his elder brother used to live and ‘it was perhaps to ensure I learnt how to make living and not waste my life away on trivialities’ writes Gulzar. Things were not as they seemed, and he moved out of his brother’s place.

Gulzar Saab illumines about the pivotal moment when he was offered work in films and he refused, but after meeting with Bimal Da, he took a chance. He takes us along on a journey through his experiences. He writes about the first sight of Bimal Da, ‘Such a decidedly simple and unassuming man that for a moment my heart did not know how to react’.

‘He worked on every such sequence with so much attention to detail that they become exemplary. He was a man whose life revolved around cinema, he lived and breathed films,’ he added. 

The moment that moves me the most is when he revisits the last days of Bimal Da, ‘Few days of fever, a few days of being unwell, and then it was as if someone had plunged a dagger into our hearts.’

‘Bimal Da seemed to have shrunk, gotten smaller, like a cushion on sofa, I was not a hero, I could not stand seeing him that way…

…8 January 1966, with his passing, all the pain that I had stowed away for my father seemed for find closure, it was the day of the ritual bath of Purna Kumbh.’ 

I am in awe of words and images that he has picked to depict these real life characters. The second chapter is on Salil Chowdhury, a member of the communist party of India, and a music composer, ‘The kind of intoxication and energy that bursts forth when you shake and uncork a bottle of champagne – Salil Da was that kind of a person.’

Gulzar Saab observed tiniest details that shows his deep affection towards him, ‘I realized that he was extremely indolent. He loved playing carom, could always be found busy around the ping pong table, always ready to do anything except his own work. But then he touched a piano or a harmonium and music would spill over like nectar! Oh! Such a genius, yet how could he live like that?’ 

Hemant Da was a singer, a composer and a film producer as well. Emotion is what oozes through pages while reading about him. The imprints of his memories seem still fresh, ‘Bimal Roy passed away, leaving us, his boys, to fend for ourselves like orphans. And Hemanta Da stepped onto the scene, with that gigantic heart of his that was so full of courage, generosity and love.’

Gulzar Saab firmly believes that you are nothing without your memories. The anecdote he shared from Khamoshi had me in thrall – Hamne Dekhi Hai In Aankhon Ki Mehakti Khushboo – I wrote the song, and Hemant Da composed an exquisite tune for it, and then dropped a bomb as he declared, ‘Lata will sing the song’ ‘the song is about a man’s emotion, how can it be sung by a woman?’ He includes ‘that is the magic of Hemanta Da’s music and his powers of observation.’  

If memories are brushstrokes, then Gulzar Saab paints a canvas full of longing.  He shares a resounding memory, ‘You take this tune, Gullu. No one else will take it, they won’t understand it.’ This dialogue is taken from the chapter on Pancham, and the song is Chhoti si kahani se baarishon ke paani se..’

Rahul Dev Burman, who was famous for making music out of Pawan Chakkis and running trains, ‘Anything different would attract him. If there’s such a thing with Pancham’s gharana then perhaps it would comprise his experimental works.’

Gulzar Saab holds the wealth of memories of Pancham Da, and he gladly submerges into them, ‘Anger, sorrow, dejection, hurt feelings, a sharp break in creativity – where could one expect to find Pancham during such times? The kitchen.’

The first time Gulzar worked with Pancham was in Parichay. The first song was Musafir Hoon Yaaron, ‘Silent communication existed between us, is that what they call chemistry?’ 

Gulzar Saab captures few hilarious anecdotes in bits and pieces, for instance, while creating Mera Kuch Samaan, Pancham said ‘Gullu, tomorrow you’ll ask me to set the morning newspaper to music’ but he composed the song, and the rest is history.  

‘Pancham left us way too soon, didn’t he? Of course, he used to always be in hurry. He would pour water into the cup of tea to cool it and drink that while tinkering with a tune on the harmonium.’

He secured a place in my heart by telling about his kinship with Pancham Da in such dignified manner. I underlined pages and pages, It would be so comforting to revisit them someday.   

The way this memoir is presented to readers, it seemed more like reading a gripping fiction. Each chapter contains information but with definite structure and stunning prose, just like a short story which engulfs you with its beginning, middle and comforting end.

In the next article, he speaks about Kishore Da, ‘A mad genius – a person evoking feelings of irritation while simultaneously also commanding respect.’ 

Did you know that Kishore Da was all set to play the protagonist in Anand? It didn’t work out though. This chapter is full of giggles and tender moments. Gulzar Saab ends this piece with a pristine thought on him, ‘Perhaps he used to believe fairy tales were real, magic carpets too. And he wished to live his life by those very truths.’  

Reading this memoir opens a window to understand Gulzar as a person. What really stuns me is his gentle way of showing gratitude towards artists. These reflections need to be savoured rather than analyzed. 

Gulzar Saab also includes Sanjeev Kumar, Mahasweta Devi, Suchitra Sen, Sharmila Tagore, Hrishikesh Mukherjee, Pandit Ravi Shankar, Samaresh Basu, Ritwick ghatak  and more. I wanted to cover all personalities as it would kill the charm of exploring this journey. Though, I would like to mention the piece on Pandit Bhimsen Joshi, It touched me the most and filled me with possibilities and hope ‘the speciality of his voice, what we call timbre, was exquisite.’

This memoir is not about filmmaking tools or his formulae of lyrics writing but an honest documentation of reminisces as if Gulzar Saab is speaking to a friend on an evening walk.

Honestly, I am too wrecked to write about such treasure, it surely deserves long-length discussion with G-mitra (A group created by Pavan Jha, for those friends who meditated on Gulzar’s words). 

Here, I would like to mention that Gulzar Saab shared these recollections with Sanchari Mukherjee for a Bengali newspaper. The compilations of those narratives, was first published as ‘Panta Bhate’ in Bengali. Now it has been translated from the Bangla to English by Maharghya Chakraborty, in the first person narrated by Gulzar.  

‘It seems like a dream when I revisit my memories of such great gurus and colleagues, and I feel overwhelmed that I have really interacted with them. I have to pinch myself on realizing that actually . . . I met them.'

P.S. Actually… I Met Them was published by Penguin Random House and I can’t be grateful enough to Gulzar Saab and Pavan Jha (Da) for this gifted copy.

 

______________

This review is written by Ankita Chauhan and edited by Priyadarshini Sharma.  

किताब समीक्षा: बात निकलेगी तो फिर: एक गज़लनामा - सत्या सरन

टाइटल: बात निकलेगी तो फिर – एक ग़ज़लनामा  

लेखक: सत्या सरन

अनुवादक: प्रभात रंजन

शैली: संगीत, जीवनी  

पब्लिशर: हार्परकॉलिंस इंडिया

स्त्रोत: निजी कॉपी
पृष्ठ: 160

रेटिंग: 5/5 

जिस आवाज़ को आप अपनी हर नब्ज़ में महसूस करते हों

जिस आवाज़ में छिपा दर्द अपने स्वभाव से परे जा, आपके दिल को सुकून पहुँचाता हो

जिस आवाज़ को सुने बिना आपकी रातें सुबह का सूरज लांघने में हिचकती हों  

जिस आवाज़ को सुनकर ऐसा लगे जैसे “बस पहुँच ही गए घर” किसी अपने के पास..

मेरे लिए यह आवाज़ जगजीत जी हैं।

एक अरसे बाद जब किताब हाथ में आयी तो आंखे किताब के कवर पेज से उलझ गयीं.. ज़गजीत जी की इतनी तस्वीरें इंटरनेट पर बिखरी रहती हैं फिर भी हर नयी तस्वीर को देखकर लगता है संगीत का अगर चेहरा होता तो तो हू-ब-हू ज़गजीत ज़ी से मिलता.. इतना ही सादा इतना ही संपूर्ण। लबों पर हल्की सी हंसी, चेहरे पर थोडी सी शरारत और आँखे शून्य, आँखें जहाँ हर कोई पनाह पाना चाहता हो, कुछ लम्हें ठहर कर उस आवाज़ को महसूस करना चाहता हो... देखना चाहता हो कि गज़ल गुनगुनाते वक़्त जगजीत जी को दुनिया वैसी ही दिखती होगी जैसी है.. या फिर वो अपने आवाज़ के आयामों में एक नया जहाँ तलाश लेते होंगे जहाँ दर्द भी मीठा लगता हो, किसी बिछड़े हुए रिश्ते की तरह।

यह जीवनी, जगजीत जी की ज़िंदगी के तह-दर-तह सफ़हे खोलती जाती है, जहाँ उस एक आवाज़ से ही नहीं, उस शख्सियत से भी रू-ब-रू होने का मौका मिलता है जिसे संगीत से अलग जानना शायद इतना आसां नहीं होता। जगजीत जी की ज़िंदगी के कुछ पहलुओं को इतना करीब से जानना जहाँ आपको रोमांचित करता है वही दिल में एक कसक रह जाती है की काश थोड़ा और जान पाते.. उनका बचपन, संगीत को लेकर उनका लगाव, जब गज़लें एक श्रोतागण तक ही सीमित थी तब एक परिपाटी से परे जाकर संगीत के क्षेत्र मे अपना ही नहीं गज़लों का भी अलग मुकाम बनाना, अपने लिए गए फैसलों पर, अपने सपने पर विश्वास करना, उस सपने को पूरा करने के लिए संगीत के एक नए युग की शूरूवात करना, माईक के पीछे का संघर्षरत जीवन। जगजीत जी के पारिवारिक जीवन के बारे में जानने का मौका मिलता है जहाँ चित्रा जी से भेंट, कुछ नए रिश्तों से जुड़ाव आदि से संबधित कुछ किस्से है और सफलता के दौर से गुज़रते हुए, अपने सपने के लिए नया आकाश बनाकर... उसपर अपनी आवाज़ से सतरंगी इन्द्रधनुष फेरते जगजीत।

किताब को जगजीत जी की जीवन कथा के अनुसार कई छोटे छोटे पार्टस में बाँटा गया है और बड़ी ही खूबसूरती से उन भागों के शीर्षक स्थापित किए गए। उनके जीवन का हर एक किस्सा उन्हीं की गायी एक गज़ल के साथ शूरू किया गया है, जो कि वाकई काबिल-ए-तारीफ़ है।

जगजीत जी के जीवन से उठाए गए अंशों का चित्रण इतने सलीके से किया गया है कि यह जीवनी.. आँखों के समक्ष चलती डॉक्यूमेंट्री जैसा महसूस करवाती है, जहाँ जगजीत जी थे, चित्रा जी थीं, और उनके अस्तित्व को पूरा करता उनका परिवार, उनका संगीत।

किताब के अंतिम कुछ पृष्ठ चित्रा जी की वर्तमान ज़िंदगी पर लिखे गये है.. उनके अंतर्मन में ऐसी ना जाने कितनी किताबें होगी कितने ही किस्से होंगे...कितना मुश्किल होता होगा उस आवाज़ को सुनना जो आपसे अलग नहीं थी और फिर एक दिन अचानक उस आवाज़ का बस याद बन जाना। आवाज़ जो पूरी दुनिया की रूह को सूकून पहुंचाती है वो शायद चित्रा जी के दिल में एक दर्द एक टीस पैदा करती होगी।

यह गज़लनामा उस शक्स की ज़िदंगी का क़तरा भर है.. जगजीत जी की हर एक गज़ल में, अल्फाज़ों के बीच उठती गिरती सांसे, ठहराव पाते लफ्ज़ और उस ठहराव पर अपने सुनने वालों की धड़कने बांध लेने वाले जगजीत जी को कुछ सफहों में समेट पाना, चंद लम्हों में बयां कर पाना उतना ही मुश्किल है जितना इश्क का दर्द की लौ से दूरी बनाए रखना।

सत्या सरन जी का बेहद शुक्रिया। आपके इस खूबसूरत प्रयास के लिए हार्दिक शुभकामनाएँ। 

किताब से कुछ अंश: 

“गुलज़ार ने खुलेआम उनकी तारीफ करते हुए कहा था “मिर्ज़ा गालिब, जगजीत से परे के जगजीत हैं।“

बात निकलेगी तो फिर दूर तलक जाएगी

जगजीत जी ने इन आलोचनाओ को अपने ही अंदाज़ मे लिया “मेरी आलोचना इसलिए की गई  क्योंकि मैंने गज़लों की धुन बनाने मे कई साज़ो का प्रयोग किया। लोग कहते हैं यह भी कोई गज़ल है इसके जवाब में, मैं उनसे पूछता हूँ आप बताएँ गज़ल कैसी होती है?

अगर आप कहते हैं कि बेग़म अख्तर की शैली गज़ल गायकी की अकेली शैली है तो मैं उसे नही मानता। उनकी शैली उनके महौल को बताती है, लेकिन इसका मतलब यह तो नही हुआ कि ये कोई फॉर्मुला है जिसे दूसरे भी अपनाएँ। उससे पहले बरकत अली की अपने शैली थी। यह मेरी अपनी शैली है, अब देखना यह है कि किस शैली को लोग स्वीकार करते हैं जिसे स्वीकृति मिलती है वही आगे चलकर परम्परा बन जाती है। अलग-अलग शैलियाँ साथ-साथ चलती रह सकती हैं।“

मुझको मुझसे अभी जुदा न करो

(अपने बेटे विवेक की असामयिक मृत्यु के बाद..)

“दुर्घटना के बाद एक तरह से वह संलग्नता पहले से मजबूत हुई, लेकिन एक तरह से उन्होंने खुद को मुझसे दूर भी कर लिया। पहले की तरह एक-दूसरे से वह रिश्ता नही रह गया। 

पहले कुछ हफ्तो के बाद जगजीत ने अपना तानपुरा उठा लिया। वे घंटों उसे बज़ाते, मानो संगीत की तान उनके दर्द की परतो के पार जा कर उनके दिल को फिर से जगा रही हो”

स्मृतियाँ, दर्द और आँसू सब अपनी जगह थे लेकिन उन्होंने उन सबको अपने अन्दर थाम लिया उस ताकत के बल पर जो संगीत ने उनको दी थी।“

यह किताब एक बेहद खूबसूरत ज़रिया है उस शख्स की ज़िंदगी के बारे में जानने का जिसकी आवाज़ ने आपकी कई रातों को शायद ज़िंदगी दी हो। 

Affiliate Link (Buy Online) : Baat Niklegi Toh Phir

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Book Review: The Day I Stopped Drinking Milk by Sudha Murthy

Title: The Day I Stopped Drinking Milk

Author:  Sudha Murthy

Genre: Anthologies, Non-Fiction

Publication: Penguin Books

Source: Kindle Edition

Pages: 223

Rating: 4/5

Extraordinary stories about ordinary people’s lives

The work of Sudha Murthy always fascinated me, the way he weaved characters while writing fiction. Past days I got a chance to read her nonfiction anthology. Basically It is a collection of her life-stories, she visited almost whole world, either it is small village or the foreign countries.  She grabbed few lessons from the person she met, the place she visited and shared with us in a form of book.

Literally first story “Bombay to Bangalore” of that book is amazingly surprising. Book is all about How one’s life can changed with your little help.

It is the book you should gift your kids. In fact it should be involved in school syllabus. The lesson she was trying to bestow upon us, that is what today’s generation needed. In this techie world where child lost the feeling of innocence, compassion and love… each story of this book making us understand that no matter how much we succeed we need to be loved at last.

As title suggests Sudha Ji described an incident while she was travelling to a village and somehow she stuck in the middle, there was a house where milk seemed a kind of luxury.  It is strange to know that people still yearn for the basic things, needed for living.

“Understand that life is a short journey. In that short journey, if you can show compassion to others, show it now”

Like this there are many stories she collected from all over the India, the story of simple, mango people who contributed our society in their own way. That simply shows that Intention matters. Like a milk-maid arranged a pond for her village while British people ruling over India.

On the other hand Author shared a story of a person who forgot the meaning of gratitude. One story tells about the group “Helping The Dead” It was quite amazing to read such people who often remain anonymous but helping the world, without any expectations. Real humanity saviour!

The last story reveals few life lessons, most basic still Important for living. 

• Lessons- 
• Children tell the truth and are the real judges of one’s talent.
• You cannot substitute many things in life with money.
• Money changes a person completely. Very few people can withstand the lure of money and they are difficult to find.
• If we keep collecting material things, it becomes a burden to the next generation. It is better that we reduce our cache while we are alive
• Be patient and to recognize people’s intentions.
• I must always stand up for myself and follow my heart, even if other people do not always agree with me or like it.

If you have kids around and you want them to read, Surprise them with this book. they would be thankful to you forever. 

About Author
Sudha Murthy is an Indian author and social worker.

Other books by Sudha Murthy - Grandma's Bag Of Stories, The Bird With Golden Wings : Stories Of Wit And Magic, Gently Falls the Bakula, Dollar Bahu, and The Day I Stopped Drinking Milk: Life Stories from Here and There.

Sudha Murthy was born in 1950 in Karnataka. With a BE in Electrical Engineering and an ME in Computer Science, she was a gold medalist at both the graduate and postgraduate levels. She was the first woman engineer to be employed by TELCO. She married Narayana Murthy, who is one of the founders if the IT company Infosys. Sudha Murthy was one of the initial investors in the company. She is now the Chairperson of the Infosys Foundation. She has been awarded the Padma Shri, and also been given honorary doctorate degrees. 

Book Review : And Then One Day : A Memoir by Naseeruddin Shah

Title: And Then One Day 

Author: Naseeruddin Shah
Publisher: Penguin Books
Genre: Memoir, Non-Fiction
Source: Kindle Edition
Pages: 369
Rating: 5/5

Autobiographies have their own charm. These are not merely inked words but a person, a compelling tale of someone’s whole life.

I was super excited when I started this memoir of Naseeruddin Sir; He did loads of movies, left us jaw-dropped. So, it was kind of treat to read him, to know him in his own words, This book gave me a feeling that Naseer Sahab   Reiterating  without any fear , he tore up pages of his life with such an honesty like it a sort of game. Must say he played elegantly.  Respect!

In his memoir he talked about his family members how he was so connected with his mother, about his school days fun, addiction for movies since childhood. His struggle while he was trying to make a space for himself in that Dreamy world, Bollywood.  His love life and failures.The way he called himself ‘raw boned face’. Where his damn classic humor make you laugh, on the other way his dark side left you amazed with a bit tears. When he mentioned his time with Om Puri, Shabana Azami, Gulzar Saab and Shyam Benegal, You try hard to imagine behind the scenes.

Sharing Few Lines here...  This made me surprise “is he a professional writer?”

·         First wonder goes deepest; wonder after that fits in the impression made by the first.

·         There can be this kind of exchange of energies between actor and audience. The finest definition of theatre that I have come across is ‘one actor-one audience’. Implying of course that any meaningful interaction between two people anywhere fits the definition of ideal theatre, with the same qualities needed of both participants as are required from them in an actual theatre. Theatre really is a one-on-one experience.

·          I have been grappling for years with the question of whether experiencing difficulty dealing with real life is what drives people to become actors. Though it is far from resolved in my head, looking back at some very worthwhile actors I have known closely, almost every one of them seems to conform to this pattern. It does seem like an aberration of behavior to want to be someone else all the time, and I think it happens to people who, like me, can find no self-worth early in life and thus find fulfillment in hiding behind make-believe.

·         Now I was actually standing behind the curtain. I was there! I took a long while savouring the feeling that there were people out there who were curious about what we were doing, about what I was doing. I kicked the hem of the curtain to make it billow and make them wonder even more. That’s what the inside of a mother’s womb must feel like. Warm, safe, comfortable. You have no weight, no cares. The outside world is outside. It can get to you only when you let it. Then the curtain opened. Suddenly, the womb was gone and I was staring into a black void. Never having been onstage before, I was blinded by the intensity of the lighting, but then I felt the boards under my feet.

·         the opportunity to lead their lives the way they had chosen to. Seldom have I encountered such contentment in people at the end of the road; the complete satisfaction of knowing you have done whatever you could with your life.

·         The only thing that interested me about life, I remember, was watching how people behaved. If I had been blessed with any ‘gift’ at all, it was an ear for the spoken word. I can still actually recall the grains in a voice I have heard fifty years ago.

·         An actor’s output hinges totally on being cast right, on how the scene is written, what the character is asked to do, how he is guided to do it, often even on how he is lit.

·         I have always had doubts about the existence of God but I do believe in the power of prayer; praying not as in groveling for something but exuding positive energy, and the prayer is answered by receiving it in return.

·         But though I have to live with the knowledge that the scar tissue of my earlier indifference will never disappear.

A classic Read!

Book Review : The Accidental Prime Minister: Sanjaya Baru

Title: The Accidental Prime Minister

Author: Sanjay Baru

Publisher: Penguin Books

Genre: Autobiography

Pages: 320

Rating: 5/5

First of all  I do apologize if I ever said/Rted something about Mr. Manmohan Singh because after reading this book of Sanjaya Baru, I’m only left with a word “ Respect “. The image of Manmohan singh which had crushed brutally by media and social activists ( because of wrong reasons )  has revived again,

For me atleast !!

It tells you how an honest man faces obstacles to maintain his dignity, his moral values.. and How he restricted by many illegitimate powers. If Readers could manage to see behind the mirror The picture would be clear, The PM-Manmohan was a person with lack of authority, punished for his goodness in amidst of dirty politics.

Thanks to Sanjaya Baru Sir.It’s a  Worthwhile Read !

Sharing few striking parts of book..

1.      One senior leader told a senior editor, ‘ What does Baru think ? He think doctor sahib ( Dr Singh ) can win us election ? we have to project Rahulji’s image “

…… the PM sat stiff in  stony silence I broke the silence by adding the party wants to give the entire credit for this decision to Rahul but both you and Raghuvansh Prasad deserve as much credit.’

I don’t want any credit for myself he snapped,” after many seconds of deafening silence the PM said “ let them take all the credit. I don’t need it. I am only doing my work. You just write my speeches for me. I don’t want any media projection"

2.      Pranab was never so transparent either in expressing his disagreement or support. After returning from an important visit to Washington D.C , Pranab chose not to brief the PM for three days. He had gone to see Soniya Gandhi but had not sought an appointment with Dr Singh. On the third day I asked Dr singh what had transpired at Pranab’s meetings with president bush. ‘ I don’t know ‘ his plaintive reply .

I was taken aback. How could the foreign minister not have briefed the pm immediately on return?

3.      ‘ I dream of a day when, while retaining our respective national identities, one can have breakfast in America, lunch in Lahore and dinner in Kabul, that is how my forefathers lived. That is how I want my grandchildren to live’ – Manmohan singh, FICCI annual genral meeting 2007.

4.      Within a few minutes I was summoned by the PM. When I met him at home, he looked unusually relaxed, clearly the burden was now off his shoulders. Yes, he told me, he had spoken to Sonia the previous day and told her that his position had become untenable. He also explained what had led to his offer to resign. The Indian side had been all set to go to the IAEA to negotiate an Indian-specific safeguards agreement but the left wanted the draft agreement to be shown to them before they authorized the government to go to the international body. This was impossible, said the PM.  As a secret document, the draft agreement could not be shown to those not in government until the negotiations with the IAEA has ended. Moreover, India would be placed in an embarrassing position if, at this stage, the government chose to stay away from IAEA, on account of the left’s arm twisting.

It was clear to him that the left would never support the government. The choice before the government was, in his mind, obvious: ignore the left and proceed, and agree with the left and stay put. Explaining this to Sonia Gandhi, the PM had then told her that if the UPA chose the second option, it would have to find another prime minister to lead the coalition. Sonia requested Dr singh to sleep on this issue. When she realized he was serious, she summoned Pranab mukherjee.

5.     Several weeks later, after I joined business standard, I was invited for a function at 7 RCR. We talked about many things finally he turned to the subject weighing in both our minds.

He said, ‘ I am sorry about what happened. You see, you must understand one thing. I have come to terms with this. There cannot be two centres of power. That creates confusion. I have to accept that the party president is the centre of power. The government is answerable to the party.’

I saw no point in disagreeing with him or contesting his thesis. But of course, I did disagree with it.  The prime minister was answerable to the parliament and the government was governed by the constitution. The party president was only the leader of the party. The PM is the leader of the country as a whole and head of the government.

Each one of us finds our own rationale for what we do and do not do. He has found his.

6.      He was charged not with the corruption, but with turning a blind eye to the corruption of others.

7.      There are questions that will probably haunt Dr Singh too, most of all, why did he not quit when he has realized he had lost all the vestiges of control over his own government ?

About the Author

Sanjaya Baru was chief editor of the Financial Express and Business Standard. He is currently director for geo-economics and strategy at the International Institute of Strategic Studies.

 P.s – A special thanks to that person who actually bought this book and allowed me to read.

Book Review : The Test of My Life by Yuvraj Singh

Title: The Test of My Life

Author: Yuvraj Singh

Genre: Memoir, Autobiography, Self-Help

Publisher: Random House 

Source: Kindle Edition

Pages: 151

Rating: 5/5

Recently India lost the T 20 world cup (2014)  and the worst news was that Yuvraj singh’s house pelted with stones after that. It is a big shame not because we lost but how few bumpkins treat  that person who is responsible for that biggest win world cup 2011 too.

And this incident propels me towards Yuvraj singh’s memoir ‘ The Test of my life ‘. When we read a memoir, we not only jus’ read it but watch their life closely via rear-view mirror. In case of  this book .. it is very lenient still heartfelt .

 Its not like a novel we generally read .. “ Jaise Yuvi khud Hamara Haath pakad kar dikha rahein ho’n -  apna Childhood , match-winning moments , odd times and how he fought his battle, The Cancer “  Its really inspiring to see  how could he able to smile when life gives him every reason to cry .

And when I end this book with few photos of him, I can feel that emotional cord. In simple words Tremendous writing, Brave heart !!

Wanted to share  inspiring part of this book .. Here It Is . . .

1. Hope, even if its answers are ridiculous and vague, is a very powerful emotion. We all hope to find solutions to our most difficult problems, our worst nightmares.Your mind lurches for its Solution.

2. There were days during the second cycle that I wanted to walk from my chemo station to the taxi but had no legs. Inside them there was no bone, no muscle. My legs felt like empty bags of tired skin. I fought the wheelchair. I would tell everyone I’ll walk. A few steps and my knees would begin to fold and I would have to sit down in a corner. In my mind I would consider crawling on all fours to the centre’s front door. When I couldn’t get up someone would go fetch a wheelchair and, as we went through the corridor, I would feel as if everyone’s eyes were on me and they were thinking: who is this young man who needs a wheelchair? The judgement however is only going on in your head.

When you have cancer, you just have it. You are not old or young, you are simply a cancer patient. You collapse, you puke, you get angry, you cry, you bombard your caregiver with requests for this dish or that, and the moment it is produced turn away from it, you throw up the dish so carefully prepared seconds after eating a tenth of it.Then as you lie in bed at night, your face burns with shame. What must they be thinking of me? Why am I behaving like this? How can I do this to the people that love me? The tears come flowing out and soak your pillow. During such moments all you can hope for is that ‘this too shall pass’.

3. The world was moving along fast but my life had come to a standstill. I was in an island of silence, no longer a part of the team I had once belonged to. Indian cricket had moved on and I had been left behind.

4. {  His come back to cricket world }

I hated being thought of as a charity case selection. What annoyed me was that the people who were throwing the words ‘emotional selection’ around had not tried to find out what I had been doing.

I know it is a waste of energy to wake up every day and try to prove yourself worthy to the whole world. And so the anger ebbed away. I decided to live in the moment and enjoy the fruits of my labour.

I knew. I would be ok. I would play, I would be hurt, I would be happy, but I would play and I would be ok.

5. { At last, Short message by Yuvi which motivates me }

When I was ill I had felt that hope is the rescue rope out of the disease. When the chemical sadness hit me and I cried, when my scalp and skin was covered with the stinging sensation of a billion hairs trying to fall off and I cried, when I had to use a wheelchair and would have preferred to crawl and cried, it was only the hope that this would get over and life would come around again that took me out of those moments of despair.

Once the Test call came the guy I was earlier would have immediately disappeared into the cricket bubble, grateful for its noise and fast-paced life But this time cricket—the cricket life—did not displace everything else. It did not edge out the memory of the battle against cancer and the battle for confidence after that. I did not hold on to the madness of cricket to run from the memory of cancer. Instead I held the legacy of cancer close and got my strength and inner peace from it.

P.s. - Thank You  Yuvi for sharing Your life with us which truly inspires, Love You  !!

Book Excerpt : Levels of Life by Julian Barnes

Title : Levels of Life
Author: Julian Barnes
Publisher: Random House
Genre: Literary Fiction
Source: Kindle Edition
Pages: 74
Rating: 5/5

Books are the real saviour. They heal us. Reading a book is like exploring a new world which is hidden behind those beautiful words.

Past days, I read a book “Levels of Life by Julian Barnes “.

Frankly speaking, it was hard to enter into it but in the end that book left me speechless, spellbound with Teary-eyed. This book is all about Photography, Ballooning and most importantly love, grief, Pain, variety of emotions and Silence. No, I’m not going to summarize it because it would kill that magic or you can say I don’t have that much sensible vocabulary To express it. 

It is a ‘Must Read Book’ especially for those who have lost their loved ones and suffered a lot. Here I want to share few catchy lines of this book, Beyond our imagination.

-Money couldn’t have saved her so what good was money.

-What doesn’t kill us making us stronger !

-Grief snatches the breathe from you, makes stomach turn. Cuts off the blood supply to  the brain

-She was alive in my memory

-If she was anywhere she was within me.

-Let’s concentrate on the essential.

-Dreams are more reliable more secure than memory. in dreams she arrives  looking and  acting like herself. Dreams are always a source of comfort.

-I could not kill myself because i would also be killing her. she would die a second time.  So the question arises how am I to live. I must live as she would have wanted me to.

-I still think of Sara everyday of life. Every hour of the day.Someone is dead may mean they are not alive but that doesn’t mean that they don’t exist. So I talk to her constantly. This feels as normal as necessary.

-I keep alive our lost private conversations.Her voice calms me gives me courage

 The paradox of grief. I have survived what is now four years of her absence. It is  because I have had four year of her presence. she always answers when I talk to her.

-I always miss her on some occasion .no silent sleepy presence. no hand in mine.

-She exists not really in the present not wholly in the past but in some intermediate tense  the past present.

-Sorrow is a kind of rust on the soul. which every new idea contributes in its passage to  scour away

-The image is lost for ever , available only for memory turned into anecdote.

-I live alone the habit grows

-The cure for loneliness is solitude. Marianne moore advises

-Pain shows that you have not forgotten. pain enhances the flavor of the memories , pain is  a proof of love ,if it didn’t matter it wouldn’t matter.

-There are moments which appear to indicate some kind of progress when the tears the  daily unavoidable tears stop.

-When possessions can be disposed of.

-You put together two things that have not been put together before. And the world is changed…’ 

 P.s. – Read It, Feel it and Breath It.