The Outsider & Sadequain - Happy Birthday Albert Camus!

Death, execution, and religion are the dominating themes as Meursault comes to term with the consequences of his action. He is an outsider at his mother’s funeral, at his trial and remains one till the end. 

These were my thoughts when I first read The Outsider (read complete review here). And these feelings are beautifully captured in the illustrations by Sadequain which I stumbled upon while browsing through a copy of the book, Mystic Expressions by Sadequain, published by the Sadequain Foundation.  These lithographic illustrations were made by the artist in 1964, four years after the death of the author. 

The Scene of the Crime

Meursault's girlfriend, Marie, as visualized by the artist. 

Today marks the 100th birth anniversary of Albert Camus and to celebrate his birth month I'm going to be reading his book, The Myth of Sisyphus, which is considered a 'brilliant explanation of the central idea of absurdity which was developed artistically in The Outsider'. 

Quite an existentialist celebration!

Note: All images were taken by me from the book 'Mystic Expressions by Sadequain'. 

Covered in dust and waiting to be rescued!

"The book was thick and black and covered with dust". (Possession – A.S.Byatt)

The above description holds true for my blog, except that you can’t see the layers of dust on the internet. 

The layers of dust that settle down between the pages of a book that lies dormant, waiting to be read and handled.

"Its boards were bowed and creaking; it had been maltreated in its own time. Its spine was missing, or rather protruded from amongst the leaves like a bulky marker. It was bandaged about and about with dirty white tape, tied in a neat bow". (Possession - A.S.Byatt)

[Beanbag tales is going to complete its fourth year on the blogosphere in November. A good time to reflect and analyze if its actually been worth the effort. You can read about its creation in 2009 here].

The Secret Compartment in a Writer's brain...

"In a radio interview in 1970, Roald Dahl described the utmost sensual delight he got when he went up to his hut, closed the door and sat down in his chair.

You become a different person, you are no longer an ordinary fellow who walks around and looks after his children and eats meals and does silly things, you go into a completely different world. I personally draw all the curtains in the room, so that I don't see out the window and put on a little light which shines on my board. Everything else in your life disappears and you look at your bit of paper and get completely lost in what you're doing. You do become another person for s moment. Time disappears completely. You may start at nine in the morning and the next time you look at your watch, when you're getting hungry, it can be lunchtime. And you've absolutely no idea that three of four hours have gone by. So when you meet a musician or a writer, you shouldn't be surprised that they look exactly like ordinary people, because in that part of their lives they are...All the best artists that I've known, like Hemingway and Steinbeck and EB White and Thurber, behave very normally in their private lives...They are ordinary people who have a secret compartment somewhere in their brain which they can switch on when they become quite alone and go to work."

Tomorrow, 13th September, is Roald Dahl's birthday. And the celebrations are going to go on all this month on the beanbag. 

Source: Storyteller - The Life of Roald Dahl by Donald Sturrock

Picture: Google Images

What did The Bad Girl do?

Some naughty book spine poetry....

Greene in Thailand

"I doubt if one ever ceases to love, but one can cease to be in love as easily as one can outgrow an author one admired as a boy".

Holiday or otherwise, Greene always makes for a GREAT read.

This Woman's Day is all about Aunts

In literature, aunts are the most unappreciated and yet, some of the most memorable characters. More often they are villains who try and create problems for the protagonists in every possible manner. At the same time, there are aunts who change the lives of their nieces and nephews with their own courage, ingenuity and spirit of adventure.

Among the books I’ve read (which is a pitiful number) the most adventurous of the lot is, without a doubt, Aunt Augusta, Henry Pulling’s crazy aunt and the woman of Graham Greene’s entertaining novel, Travels with my Aunt. This 75 year old woman has the spirit of a 20 year old and is not just young at heart but also in possession of great wit. Her adventures take Henry from the serenity of his home (and his dahlias, which are his one great obsession of retired life) to Paris, Turkey, and finally to Paraguay. Suitcases stuffed with money, gold ingot hidden in a quaint candle stand, investments made for fugitive friends, stories of lovers, Scotland Yard and the CIA feature in Henry’s mundane life, all thanks to his Aunt Augusta. It is not difficult to fall in love with Aunt Augusta’s vitality, zest for life, love of travel and her eccentricities (and to wish for her too).

Another aunt who comes to the rescue of her niece is Fatima Phuppo, the very confident, sari-clad, bold aunt who takes a stand for Zeba in Shazaf Fatima Haider’s debut novel, How It Happened. She is the perfect example of a modern, successful woman who is not afraid to express her viewpoint even if it entails taking a stand in front of her domineering mother (and Zeba's dadi). Fatima Phuppo is a character we should all aspire to be, whether as an aunt or as a woman.

But there is no lack of aunts who aren’t afraid to express their views. They call at all hours, expect their instructions to be followed to the T and scare the living daylights of their nephews. One such tyrant aunt is no other than Bertie Wooster’s Aunt Agatha. ‘The one who eats broken bottles and turns into a werewolf at the time of the full moon…’, or ‘..the one who kills rats with her teeth and devours her young…’. Of course Aunt Agatha doesn't do any of these things. She may be a bully but she’s no vampire.

Bellatrix Lestrange, on the other hand, is an aunt to put fear in the hearts of all and sundry, what to talk of nephews. Aunt Petunia pales in comparison to her. At least she tried to keep Harry safe (even if it was only out of fear) while Lestrange was ever ready to sacrifice her own nephew if it meant earning brownie points with the Dark Lord. And it’s not just in her evil ways that Bellatrix towers above Aunt Petunia (hint: weird hair-do).

And while on the subject of aunts, I cannot complete my tribute without mentioning the two evil aunts of poor little James; Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker. Even though their reign of evil was short (they meet their end quite early), they caused enough misery to force James to move into a giant peach.

Aunts in literature often play a small yet pivotal role in the story line. Sometimes they try to exert their influence on their nephews. Who can forget the stern and haughty Lady Catherine de Bourgh who tried to stop Mr. Darcy from marrying Elizabeth (and failed miserably). There are some aunts, though, who can both exercise influence and get their way too. Bertie Wooster, I’m afraid is the poor nephew who, on the bidding of his Aunt Dahlia (yes, he has two aunts) actually stole the silver cow creamer from the antique collection of Sir Watkyn Basset. That he managed to get away with it is another story for another time. 

This woman's day I shall pay a tribute to the crazy, evil, stern, and strange aunts. Of literature, of course!

The Hijra with a Cleft lip

Tonight, while out doing some quick shopping at Zamzama, a hijra (transsexual) walked up to me asking for money. I quickly walked into a shop to avoid him. When I walked out a few minutes later, the hijra was still there and on spotting me came forward again. I walked towards another shop and kept saying no to all his requests. Before stepping into the shop, I turned around and said to him: 'You are able bodied. Why don't you find some work instead of begging like this'.

The horror of my statement hit me within minutes. I went through my purse, took out a fifty rupee note and decided to give it to him. But when I stepped out of the shop, the hijra had left.

I still haven't been able to forget the expression on his face. I don't remember many details of his appearance except that he was quite decent, unlike the ones who are begging at the Teen Talwar signal. He had a cleft lip which he had tried to cover up as much as possible with white powder. 

Have I become so indifferent to my surroundings that I told him off with instructions to find a job? I mean, in all seriousness, who will give this person a job? Me? You? I understand that handing out money to them is not a solution. Maybe even the hijra I met today might have just blown the money on booze or drugs. But maybe, just maybe, he might have bought some food for himself and some friends. 

It is easy for us to walk away from them in shopping areas or turn a deaf ear when they tap on our car windows at traffic signals. But the truth is that they are as much a part of this society and this city as we are and as humans, they have an equal right to live. Just because we were born normal and in a good household doesn't make us better or superior. And even though doling out money is not, like I said, a solution; I will be on the lookout for this hijra tomorrow evening.