Saturday, 3 March 2018

The Best Asian Short Stories 2017 - A Review

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2297442575?type=review#rating_153810108


Madhulika Liddle's Reviews > The Best Asian Short Stories 2017

 
by 
16294266
's review
Feb 22, 2018

really liked it

Several years back, I was talking to a European journalist who’d travelled fairly extensively across Asia. During our conversation, she said, “One thing that strikes me as a big difference [between Asia and Europe] is the emphasis on family here. Back home, once you grow up and move out of your parents’ home, there’s only occasional contact. Here, family is very important.”

The Best Asian Short Stories echoes that sentiment in many, many stories. In some way or the other, both good and bad. There is the mother visiting her son in Tokyo and slowly beginning to adjust to an alien lifestyle in Geetanjali Shree’s March, Ma and Sakura; there are the horrified parents, trying desperately to break up their son’s ill-advised (to their way of thinking) marriage to an American divorcee in Soniah Kamal’s Jelly Beans. There are mothers: the frighteningly biased and cruel stepmother of Farah Ghuznavi’s Big Mother; the self-sacrificing mother who hides her poverty from her son in Park Chan-Soon’s Ladybugs Fly From the Top; and the unforgettable Samar, fleeing war-torn Aleppo with her ten-year old son in Amir Darwish’s Samar. There is love and affection, but in equal measure (perhaps more) there are the other things that make families: the rifts, the anger, the hatred that festers in us but which is mellowed by the ingrained belief of blood being thicker than water, and family being paramount. There is nostalgia, there are the warnings passed on, born of experience, to the younger generation. There are chilling secrets that stay hidden for years before bursting forth.

Not that family is all the theme there is to these stories. There are others, very different ones: a Brit expat in Thailand, with a trophy wife in tow, discovers he’s accidentally bought himself a yakuza in Mithran Somasundrum’s darkly hilarious The Yakuza Under the Stairs. A poor schoolboy finds himself in a tight spot while trying to smuggle matches in Farouk Gulsara’s Damp Matches. And, in the vivid and almost lyrical Free Fall in a Broken Mirror(Hisham Bustani), a woman expected to stay veiled all her life tries desperately to break out—to let her spirit free.

It is hard to rate an anthology, and that too one with so many stories: some will appeal more to a reader and some less. For me, too, some stories stood out with the sheer brilliance of their storytelling, their language, and their appeal to the heart (these include the ones I’ve mentioned above, though there are others too that I liked a lot). Some stories were a little less appealing. A handful, it seemed, had escaped editing or proofreading and had typos that got in the way of my enjoyment of them. On the whole, though, this was a collection I liked: a varied bunch of stories, in varied styles, and presenting an intriguing picture of the diverse nature of Asia, its cultures and societies and values.

Thursday, 1 March 2018

In hindsight...

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017)

Some will say, "Get over it already!". Others would say, "Put your past behind, there is so much more to look forward to life." Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag (and smile, smile, smile). Perhaps it is the guilt of doing or omitting to do certain things brings shame to the living. Certain unsavoury or inappropriate jokes preceding the event send shivers down the spine every time the deceased's memory resurfaces. Our secret wish maybe, "if only I could re-live that moment!" Sadly, it is just in our dreams can we author our narratives. In an alternative realm, we can re-live every day on a daily basis.

Frances McDormand, whom we saw giving a sterling performance as a straight-thinking pregnant police officer in chilling cold Minnesota in the black comedy 'Fargo' and won an award for that, is seen here in the lead-belt white state of Missouri. She assumes the role of a grieving mother whose teenage daughter was brutally raped and murdered. The events preceding her mishap probably hurt her more. Bringing up two rebellious teenagers as a single parent is no easy task, especially when her abusive estranged husband is very much in the same town with a pretty young thing. When her deceased daughter left her home, the mother and daughter had a tiff when the girl insisted on going for a night-out unaccompanied.

The local police never managed to solve the case. To keep the heat on the law to continue the investigations, the mother rented three billboards at the edge of town to personally attack the police chief on his inefficiency. To be fair, the head had really tried and was inflicted with terminal cancer.

The rest of the story brings out the police brutality, racism, bullying, town politics as well as painting another picture at the other end of the seemingly insensitive police chief. Interesting enough to win many accolades under its belt.

https://asok22.wixsite.com/real-lesson

Tuesday, 27 February 2018

Lonely at the top!

Becoming Cary Grant (Documentary; 2016)

It is tough being on top of the pecking order. Your every move and omittance are hawkishly scrutinised and publicised. People in the lower end of the food chain, without an iota of a clue of what it is to set the trend for tomorrow's society, sit in their armchair to pass judgements on the appropriateness of their leaders' moves.

For the leader who had spent a lifetime trying to get to the top, he would find it increasingly difficult to perch on the top savouring the fruits of his endeavour. Then he would ask himself the meaning of it all. He would ponder on what he is actually seeking for and when does it all end? Roosting a lonely high up on a pedestal where most of his contemporaries are out-of-league, he explores realms less travelled for answers.

In the 60s, LSDs were in vogue to search the answers to these intriguing questions in the hidden crypts of our gyri and sulci. Correctly or otherwise, this medically sanctioned psychoanalytical psychotherapy dug deep into the repressed memories of a person's past to find answers to the present listlessness and behavioural maladaptations.

This documentary is a product of the findings of actor Cary Grant's weekly LSD therapy with his doctor. Through this and his collection of home-made videos and photographs, we get a composite picture of the actor's early life in Bristol as a boy in a working-class society, of a mother who was institutionalised after his father's recommendation that his mother was 'not right in the head', of a death sibling from a gangrene thumb after his mother accidentally slammed the door against it and his indulgence in a travelling acrobatic troupe.

Living with his paternal grandmother after his father remarried, he started working and landed in America when his troupe performed there in the 1930s. From then on, the lure of the big lights of Broadway and Hollywood drew him to the celluloid screen. Archibald Alec Leach became Cary Grant.

All through the documentary, the director is trying to portray Grant as one who is trying to find his real self. Archibald, not knowing who he really is, seeks to build a persona for himself through a fictitious name with no past in Cary Grant. He is a private man who loves the company of the four walls. Even though it seems far-fetched, the documentary seems to suggest that the various directors that he worked with helped him to discover his true self. Perhaps, Cary Grant was just a good actor who could fit snuggly into any shoe, a suave hero, a cunning conman, a devious agent or a comic.

https://asok22.wixsite.com/real-lesson

Sunday, 25 February 2018

On the passing of Sri Devi...

http://www.riflerangeboy.com/2012/07/12-year-old-my-stepmum.html

A 12-year-old, my stepmom? 

Moondru Mudichu (3 Knots, Tamil; 1976)


Before fame and ego took over the best of them, Kamalhasan and Rajnikanth used to act together in many memorable films. Of hand, comes to mind are Avargal, Aval Appadithaan and Apoorva Raagangal.
Sridevi's debut as heroine at the age of 12+
Child abuse or what?

In that vein, Moondru Mudichi showcases sterling performances by this duo and another talented actress from the south, Sridevi, a debutante then as a heroine at the age of 12+ (born 1963).

Kamalhasan and Rajnikanth are soul mates and roommates. Kamalhasan falls in love with a college student Sridevi, but the chain-smoking devious Rajni has both his eyes fixated on the lass and has no qualms expressing his desires to her behind his back.

During a boat outing, Rajni lets Kamal drown after he fell overboard in full view of Sridevi. During police interrogation, he denies knowing to swim although he was a strong swimmer.
Disappointed, she leaves town to work as a nanny to a widower with kids. As fate has it in a typical Tamil movie, Rajni is the eldest son of the widower. Rajni tries to woo Sridevi again. As revenge, Sridevi marries his father and becomes Rajni's stepmother. Rajni gives an outstanding performance as a mean chain smoking villain complete with his trademark cigarette tricks. Tit for tat continues further with the arrival of a girl whom Rajni impregnated and absconded.
Smelling a rat, his father stages a near drowning scenario, and one thing leads to another, and everything is sorted out.

As usual K. Balachander who is known to belt out stories with extraordinary socially awkward themes and he does the same here. Rarely you see a lover turning to be a stepmother! Indeed Rajni came out tops here with his meatier and challenging role. The film was shot in black and white as the director felt it brings out the artistic sense of a story!

An excellent nostalgic flick that brings old memories of RRF as the songs from this movie used to be heard over the airwaves quite so often, no thanks to Iyer of Block D! We also had a radio cartridge player with this song in our family car Austin Mini. We heard this song, again and again, all the way to Kuala Lumpur in 1977.


https://asok22.wixsite.com/real-lesson

Our laurels paved with sin?

Credit: orangjohor.com
Lest we forget that the building of civilisation is paved with a bloody trail of heartaches, violence, injustices and loaded with double crossings, mutiny and vices.

No matter how much we try to whitewash and sugarcoat our history, the fact remains. The victors and losers are equally culpable to take the blame for the mayhem that put us all in a quandary in the first place.

No one party can put their fingers to accuse the other of drawing first blood.

Winners always sanitise their ascent to power through mutual consent as though the conquered willingly embraced their intruders with open arms. People do many things to escape torture and fear of death to themselves or loved ones.

Towns did not flourish the God-sanctioned ways. Without fail, thuggery, vices condemned by religions, sex, intoxicants and threats helped. Skyscrapers did not sprout through teachings of the book but via earnings of the unholy kind.

Once conquest is complete, the victors are at liberty to pen their history as and how they want the future descendants to see. They can start mixing the solution for the eyewash.

These, one must remember, whenever one reads the developments of townships of Penang, Ipoh and Kuala Lumpur. Sure, Sutan Puasa must have had the foresight to see the confluence of Sg Klang and Sg Gombak as a potential site to prosper his tin mine business. But it was also Yap Ah Loy and his boys, with the money extorted from sojourners who crossed the Gombak river at the vicinity of Masjid Jamek, who rolled in cash to spur various businesses to take KL to its current metropolitan status.

Ipoh became the capital of the silver state with its tin business through the blessings of the secret societies, Ghee Hin and Hai San. The royalty did not oversee Ipoh's scaling greater heights from the sidelines but by taking sides cunningly. The British did not genuinely act as the peacemaker with the purest of intention but with a carrot, a stick and lots of backhand manoeuvres.

Thus are the cases too how religious influences must have spread. Rare are instances when the masses suddenly saw the wisdom of a particular religion and converted en masse. There must have surely been lots of goodies passed around, if not fear of the unknown.

Friday, 23 February 2018

Freedom and liberation?

traveldigg.com
Everybody yearns to be free. They want to be liberated. They dream of eudaimonia. Sadly, their search for bliss is anything but fulfilling.

When we are young, we long for the time when we are adults and do not have to play to the whims and fancies of our parents or to bow to societal pressures. We thought we had to conform, as a payback measure to our parents to all the food, accommodation and care rendered in our teething years.

Then we get our keys at 21, and we thought that is it - our path to unleashing the caged animal within us. With education came conformity and decorum. With a life partner came mutual respect, reciprocity, tolerance, empathy till death do us apart. With the expansion of the family tree, came commitments, responsibility and leadership by example.

The elusive freedom and liberation just slither us by. We tell us that is just the circle of life. We still bear hope of release from the shackles in the horizon, and we straddle along.

Cornered at a wall, we ask questions, when will rescue come? At senescence, perhaps? We seek solace with people who possess wisdom, supposedly. They raise more queries with their elusive double-tongued talk. Maybe, they themselves are equally in the dark. They escape embarrassment via their non-committal double-headed didelphian speech.

We tell ourselves to suck it up, for the uncertainties were sins of past doing and that we still had time to rectify the next birth. We labour through. More trials and tribulation are hurled at us. We accept graciously. It is an appraisal to probe our conviction and faith. We falter, and our partner does. We take it in our stride. Oh freedom, oh liberty, where art thou?

Will they come when we are free from our worldly duties? Or is it when we separate from our earthly bodies? Perhaps only when we are free from the cruel cycle of rebirth?

Wednesday, 21 February 2018

The entity called God!





Pujiyathithukkule Oru (Film: Valar Pirai, New Moon; 1962)
Singer: T.M. Soundarajan

The wisdom of Nature (Fibonacci numbering!)
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Tamil movies and songs have been a constant companion to the Tamil diaspora the world over to spread the age-old Vedantic and Puranic teachings about life, living and the divine forces that control our day to day activities. Their lyrics transcend religion but is secular in outlook and applies to all, irrespective of one's theological conviction. 

It can boldly be said that in no other songs written in any other languages anywhere in the world can anyone see so much of philosophy and wisdom extruding from its lyrics. 

This song, sung by the undisputable leading Tamil cinema playback singer, TMS, is a gem with pearls of wisdom sounding like angels' lullaby to one conversant in refined Tamil language. It explains, in simple terms, the concept of divinity to our nimble minds. Kudos to the premier lyricist and poet of the bygone era Kannadasan whose imagination has no boundaries. So far no other poet has come close to his ability in expressing multiplex concepts in simple words referring to examples in our daily lives.

My simpleton's translation of the song goes like this.
Within an emptiness, he rules a kingdom,
He stays unassuming,
One who understands him is God.
Within the fluid of a young coconut, inside the hard shell,
He stays like a coconut,
One who understands him is God.
When life is bitter, and he has to break his bond,
He stands by your side,
If you seek Him, that is God.
He left an egg within a chicken and a chicken within an egg,
He kept an offspring in a banana tree,
The name of the poor soul on Earth is God.
‘Tamil a beautiful language and I regret I don’t speak it,’ Modi.

Don't talk to strangers?