Six Degrees-Game Of Blogs-Book Review

Six Degrees-Game of Blogs brought back a flood of memories for me. Having been a part of this activity in one of the teams and having made an awesome bunch of blogger friends, reading this book reminded me of the eagerness with which we had participated in this activity. It was a great learning experience and I completely understand how challenging it must have been for the rest of the teams to coordinate across different time zones with fellow bloggers of different tenets.

This book consists of three stories by three teams of bloggers who were randomly grouped for the activity; mind you each story is a collaborative work with the story being written in a couple of days with twists and turns being provided by Blogadda in between. There is a reason why I cite this here, since the characters and a large part of the skeleton of the story was already provided, the teams had to build a story based on it. We did have our limitations.

The stories published in this book are:

1. The Awakening- Team By Lines
2. Entangled Lives- Team Potliwale Baba
3. Missing- A Journey Within- Team Tete-A-Ten


I have an admittance to make here, if this book was not written through this interesting activity I wouldn’t have picked it up to read. All through the activity I had a strong opinion on the various stories that we as teams were weaving up, all of them never felt anything beyond the 'contemporary-below average-Indian-fiction'. Since there was no forum to express this opinion, and we bloggers were busy with our own stories working on the plot and dealing with the tight deadlines I brought this up here. One of the stories in this book in fact rightly cites the pun” Write your college love story and become a bestselling author” well that’s how Indian authors are nowadays. I write this with great trepidation on how this review will be taken.

While ‘The Awakening’ primarily feels like a science fiction, the highlight for me was the amount of research and imagination that has gone into it. Kudos to the team on that, all the inventiveness with the alien world and interesting trivia was the only reason I thought this story was the best among the three.

The second story ‘Entangled Lives’ left me as a reader entangled too, supposedly this was a murder mystery. And of course there had to be a medical disorder to spice it up. What bogged me down was the entire tone of the story, the usage of some words and the bloopers in the plot. All I wanted to know was who killed and why, nothing out of the ordinary!

The third one ‘Missing- A Journey Within’ has everything missing by the way. I still am thinking about the duodenal atresia that two of the characters have, what did this medical condition do to them to make them go missing. I wish there was more research and relevance here. One noticeable fact is the strength that has been added to some characters, especially by bringing up some important social issues like homosexuality and rape. I wish this was dealt with more refinement.

The stories are not by seasoned authors, the stories are not an individual effort and the stories had their boundaries. I think that explains why the book deserves three stars, probably two point five will do.

Rating: 2.5/5

 

Book Details:

 

Title: - Six Degrees by Blogadda

Publisher: -Leadstart Publishing and BlogAdda.Com

Publication Year: - 2015

ISBN:- 9352013891 (ISBN13: 9789352013890)

Binding: - Paperback

Number of pages: -  422

Price: - Rs349

PS: 6 Degrees is India's first book published through collaborative blogging, written completely by bloggers for the Game of Blogs activity at BlogAdda. Know more about Game of Blogs here. You can buy 6 Degrees: Game of Blogs if you liked the review. :)

THE Story

Eliya, this house has a couple of entrances apart from the main door that one can see here. Once upon a time there was this man in his eighties loitering around the katte which is built all around the house, a little elevation or a bench to sit is called so in Kannada. The summer heat of coastal towns of Karnataka ensure that one stays out of the house, sweating yourself out in the sun is better than getting fried like jackfruit chips in a pan of coconut oil inside the four walls. Fit and fine, dhoti clad with a walking stick but very much unlike Gandhi, this man, my Eliya Ajja was a man of swear words. He would walk from one door to the other looking for something outside or eagerly waiting for someone to come. If we were at one door wanting to go out we would find him there, thinking of not to trouble him we would move to the other, lo and behold he would be standing there too tapping his walking stick on his shadow on the floor.

“Ajja!hopale daribidi” [Leave some place for us to go]we would tell.

“Acha bagilinda hogu”[Go through the other door] he would reply. 

Go to the other and he would be there again.

“Ajja!!!” we would scream our lungs out.

“Entha upadra ningaladu makale!“ [What trouble you give me kids!] he would shout back with a 'nayi inde mone' [son of a d** in Malayalam] and continue to stand there.

 Eliya Ajja strolling in the front yard

As far as I know Ajja was not much into reading and writing, knowledge during his days was beyond all that. So when I thought of letters and books of mysteries of life my ancestors have left me only one person came to my mind. And it had to be him, my Ajja, a man of shadows. There is this interesting story I have heard during night time from his dear wife, my Ajji with whom he has had the best of arguments and also his life. She would always add this nice prologue.

‘Aaaringu heleda!’ [Do not tell anyone!]

The story would then begin.

Dakshina Kannada is a land of ‘Adike Thota’ [areca nut farms]. Monsoon skies and greenery, mango trees and sunshine, peacock calls and tender coconut water, cashew fruits and small rivulets, ah! This experience deserves another post. Well Ajja being a farmer took the best care to ensure he had a decent crop every year. There were a couple of servants in the thota working for him; ‘Aalu’ as they are called, of course the caste system is now abolished. This incident was to do with one of them. Areca nut markets were in rich business during that time, and where there is money there is bound to be some theft.

On one dark night Ajja was out for his rounds guarding his thota with his ‘bedi’ [rifle].

Apparently he heard some movement, thinking it was a ‘kudka’ [wild fox]

who was a frequent visitor to his thota at night he pulled the trigger and fired a shot in the air. Far away, he heard a noise, like the deep ripping growl of a thunder. He walked some distance, after only a few lapsed heartbeats he understood someone was hurt and wailing. It was one of his ‘Aalu’ Rama, he was shot dead. Ajja thought he was probably there to steal some areca nuts like he had done previously, unfortunately it was his bad day and he paid a heavy price. Not knowing what to do Ajja pulled him into a cave, he hid his body behind the bushes and returned back home. The next day, Rama was not to be found anywhere and news spread. "Rama has run away to the ‘Ghattas’ " so people were told and thought, it usually happened with Aalus during those times, they would run away in search of work to the Western Ghats and beyond.

The story would end here, and life continued.

What Ajji narrated is something hard to believe. I wonder how much of this is true. Ajja was a hero definitely but how can anyone escape a murder even if it is accidental? Or is it possible for a man as frail as an old areca nut tree himself to do this?  Look at him, look at the picture. Can it be him? Did Rama really die? Or did he run away? This kind of furtiveness is interesting, it does not let me move on. It has been years now since I heard this story, as a child I did not think much of it. But when I visit my uncles at Eliya now, I think of whatever Ajji told me. In the lull of the noon when Ajja’s clock is ticking or when the rest of the house full of his children and their children are gorging on telavu [dosa made of rice batter] with kai[coconut] chutney or when the raindrops fall from the edge of the roof at night  I become aware of the voices coming from somewhere up. It feels like Ajja wants to tell me something.

I wish he wrote down something somewhere about what exactly happened, about Rama, about his escape and most importantly how did he feel about the entire incident. I wish there was a letter or a diary. Such thoughts compel me to search the atta[attic] or the old cupboards and trunks hoping that there is something. I do this every time even now whenever I visit Ajji mane. On the flipside I am sure Ajji is up there somewhere watching me and laughing ;-) After all what is life all about? You and your loved ones, little mysteries about each other, some truths and lies, some stories and experiences, some memories and moments, some learning and sharing, some love and hate, some satisfaction and guilt, sometimes just being there for each other and living your life to the fullest. I wish this was all in a letter or a book. Their funda of how they went about doing it so graciously along with raising nine children! That would definitely not be any cock and bull story. I would be the happiest if these beautiful mysteries are revealed and that would be my higher calling to follow and live by.

Love and miss you both, two of my most favorite people in this world.

The best love story is not about 

Romeo and Juliet who died together, 

but of Grandpa and Grandma 

who grew old together :-)

PS: I am participating in this creative activity organised by makers of The Path of Zarathustra in association with BlogAdda.

-R.

Prescriptions That Heal And Feel

“I do not know what is wrong with her!” said Amma.

“Give her some gripe water” opined someone in the room.

This incident happened sometime during the 1980s when our family was settling down in the ‘then Bangalore’, somewhere in a quiet street of Wilson Garden. Back then when the greenery was at its lust best and the weather was that of a hill station’s things were a lot different in this city, but for one person. Appa was entering the house after a long tiring day at work; he was working as a clerk in a bank back then. While he was at the door and was about to remove his shoes, he heard the hullabaloo. He looked around and saw his little daughter in her mother’s arms turning apple red and restless, crying like the world has come to an end. I must have been around eight months old. His heart must have twitched, and how am I so sure about it now, well I shall explain that later.

What happened after that is a hilarious anecdote recited in our household even today. Only a father could do such a thing, and when I ask or tease Appa about it now he gives me the widest grin. Seeing me cry he rushed in with his shoes on and snatched me literally, while everyone could do nothing but look at him rush out. Amma enacts it quite dramatically anytime we ask for, like it happened just yesterday. Within a moment he was gone, running out in the street.

He returned in the night having tried everything to console me, our favourite spot was a medical store named ‘Bharat Medicals’, not knowing what is wrong with me he would take me there thinking some medicines might help. But finally I would end up sitting on the counter, looking at the vehicles and passer bys and playing with the shopkeeper which somehow worked according to him! That day it so ended up that I had a bad ear infection, so the doctor diagnosed after a consultation which happened after he returned back home with me.

“He did not even let me check why you were crying!” says a miffed Amma. I have always been a child with cough, sneeze and wheeze. Needless to say, Vicks has been my constant companion, she used to rub it on my nose and chest to put me to sleep, she laughs about this weird practice of hers now saying:

“Most mothers sing lullabies, I rubbed Vicks!”

“Vicks kittu, kammi akku!”[Apply Vicks, it will come down!]

More than any poem or mantra, I have heard this from Appa. Some relationships are a blessing, you would have never asked for it but still they turn out to be one of the best things in your life. Having a father who treats you like a princess all the time in all the places and also expects others to treat you so maybe is one. But having a father who treats you like you are his world, well that is God sent, sans pareil. Anyone who knows our family knows about me being his total darling, people do pull his leg about it but he is proud about the same.

What we as father and daughter share is beyond this post. We have our moments; happy, sad and the usual like everyone else but today inspired by this prompt by Vicks and Blogadda, with a thought about what might be his reaction I hugged Appa in the morning as soon as I woke up. He was sitting on the sofa with the lights off and I was at my ‘running nose’ best rubbing my nose on his tee, the early morning allergic rhinitis episodes that I usually have. Believe me it was magical, it really did take me down the memory lane. He is a retired man in his sixties now, very young at heart doing everything possible for his daughter.

"You are a doctor now, why don’t you take care” he scolded.

“Appa...”

I mumbled and hugged him tighter knowing how gratified he is about this one particular fact, someone who had to visit the doctor every other week during her childhood is actually one now. What he said while he hugged me back made my day:

“Why this special love today, Vicks kittu, kammi akku!”

Adorable! Ain’t he? I am going to give him a special hug this Father’s Day and every day. His heart does twitch when I am not well even now, and his prescription for his daughter who is a doctor always does include ‘Vicks’. Some joys of life are given to heal and feel.

#HugYourDad

PS:“This father’s day, I am expressing my love towards my dad by participating in the #HugYourDad activity at BlogAdda in association with Vicks.

-R.

Love Black-No Lack

“Hmmm…do you have it in black?”

All you ‘black-is-so-me’ people like me out there remember this question you ask every time in a reflex? I have lost count of the number of mumbles and stares I get when I go “Give me anything, but make sure it’s in black!” I do not intend this to be just another post on dresses and suits, shoes and belts, kajals and eyeliners, wallets and purses, cars and bikes, canines and felines. I am of the opinion that for anyone who lives with this colour it is an obvious choice for all his wants and needs, and I bet there WILL be more than five! Since the time Blogadda came up with this question I have been a little uneasy, frankly for a week I had not gone beyond thinking “Only five? Why Blogadda? Why?” :-) 

And then I get this little black bookmark inside a book from them which I had the chance to review! :-)

‘Desiring’ something in black? Well it had to be genuinely intense. I love and prefer this colour over the others not because it makes me feel classy, good, beautiful, smart or unconventional. I have seen, heard, read and learnt about the colour from people and characters who have carried it more than in their attire or accessories in their heart and soul. I relate to this colour that way, something more than ‘Black- is-my favorite’. You know somehow one cannot stop noticing certain things, how a colour which half the world considers a bad omen or sign adds to the magic something or someone can bring, that’s my only reason for wanting these awe inspiring stuffs in BLACK:

·         For BLACK brings me SMILE when it is much needed!

“I thought I would dress in baggy pants, big shoes, a cane and a derby hat. Everything a contradiction: the pants baggy, the coat tight, the hat small and the shoes large”

-Charlie Chaplin-

The happiness Chaplin has brought to this world cannot be put in words. Above is just one of my favorite scenes from his movie ‘A Dog’s Life’. Such was the man and such was the colour he chose. No bows, no ties. No trim, no grim. A jolly good fellow in the truest sense. If anyone can get me CHAPLIN’S HAT, I promise to watch his movies full day with you ;-)

·         For BLACK brings back my CHILDHOOD when I think I have grown up!

“All ducks are black Amma?” I used to ask my mother and she used to convince me by answering “No the crazy ones are Raksha!” I cannot imagine those times of watching ‘The Looney Tunes’ on Cartoon Network without this black bird. What wit, what wisdom and what timing! If anyone can get me all the DAFFY DUCK LOONEY TUNES VIDEOS compiled together I promise to watch them too ;-)

One of the daffiest moment of this bird here:

“Daffy Duck he had a farm, E... I... E... I... O.

And on this farm he had an *igloo*

Ee... ayyy... ee... ayyy... dohhh? “

·         For BLACK brings bitter for good!

“Tea is like a hug in a cup”

-Patrick Jane-

Whoever called this beverage ‘liquid wisdom’ must have been wise. I have never seen anything loose itself and spread all its colour and flavor in a cup of hot water so instantly. I have survived many days and nights gulping BLACK TEA, more than water in fact, those examinations I tell you in medical school in the last ten years of my life! This desire isn't any addiction, it has done more good than harm. Anyone willing to make a cup for me, I assure you a great deal of conversation while we have it and of course lots of love.  By the way I like it earl grey without sugar ;-)

·         For BLACK brings me FANTASY when I am done with reality!

“We've all got both light and dark inside us.What matters is the part we choose to act on.

That's who we really are.”

- Sirius Black  -

Siriusly!!! For any HP fan this spelling may seem more than right. You know characters such as these in stories teach a reader so much about loyalty and life. There were moments when I had thought “Who is this freaky man?” about Sirius Black while I read the earlier pages of the book ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban’. By the end of the HP series I was of the opinion that after James and Lily, his parents, Sirius Black was the next best thing that has happened to Harry. Who can forget the scene when he punches Malfoy and says “Get away from my Godson!” such selfless care and love. True to his name, ‘Sirius’- the brightest is always in the darkest. If anyone can get me his FLYING MOTORCYCLE which Hagrid used to drop little Harry at the Dudley's, we could go for a ride around the skies after our black tea ;-)

·         For BLACK brings satiety to my heart  more than my sweet tooth!

"I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream"

-Riley Weber-

Who wouldn’t say yes for an ice cream? The joy that it brings especially during the winters, nothing like it. ‘Kuro-Goma’ or BLACK SESAME ICE CREAM so called in Japan looks a little different. The flavour and obviously the colour interests me, we could have this for the dessert on our way back. What say? Anyone game? For black in simple pleasures of life? ;-)

PS: This post is a part of #WhatTheBlack activity at BlogAdda.com