The Lost Symbol - Just another page out of Robert Langdon's life

Picking up Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol wasn't an impulse buy. He is no J R Rowling to me. But I still felt the need to stay with the hype and make sure I don't miss anything good in life. Turns out, I wasn't missing anything that good.

To be precise, not giving out any inside details, Lost Symbol is just another typical Robert Langdon journey where he unwillingly unravels a mystery. This time he in Washington D.C. Dan Brown decided to stay in Langdon territory and hasn't tried anything new. It is just a page out of Langdon's life. Or rather 509 pages out of Langdon's one night. It predictably has mishaps, a woman by his side, some old cunning light eyed chaps trying to trick the world and the rest that you've already seen.

It is ideal for fans, who want to read up something with familiar rush, but it doesn't go beyond that. The content and even dialogue seem repetitive after a few pages. It surely doesn't surpass the Da Vinci Code and the average affair kept reminding me of National Treasure's version of Masonic treasure hunt. I also could easily visualize a younger Tom Hanks as Langdon. Tom Hanks always makes sense, anyhow. I'm sure no matter how well the book does, the movie version will be just around the corner.

And personally, I'm just glad it broke my reading pattern, I can peacefully get some work done now that it is over. I expected some kind of rush after finishing the book, but now I'm on a high because of another book. It is a Sony Vaio Netbook. I'm not a fan of vanity but I so loved this model, I convinced myself I needed it. Now till I get some serious work done on it, I won't call it an impulse buy.

Just another day's post...

Sometimes I really wonder if my yearning-for-Ahmadabad posts and poems are becoming more soppy. At least they feel entertaining and overly sentimental in retrospective. But then all good and bad writing comes out of powerful, overwhelming feelings. 

Internet is another overwhelming thing for me. I've not been able to get over the amazement even after all these years of constantly being online. Just like a lot of people around the globe, I've been wired (sometimes on a wifi) for the past whole decade. I've never shied away from putting my pictures or sharing personal details apart from drawing a certain line barring the nuisance. Sharing your identity over the Internet requires a judgment call and common sense like most other decisions in life. 

Recently, I had one of my first bitter unprofessional experience through a website. With more spams and cheaters flooding the net, your real credibility would have a dark cloud looming over it. You may not be good enough if you are present on certain portals. What is too casual or too formal? And what if you haven't updated your profile in a while? What if your boss is following you on twitter? I used to find Shashi Tharoor's tweets pretty intriguing. But then, I was waiting for it to get into news for the wrong reasons. It did, and sooner than expected.

To experience the best side of the web, you sometimes end up with rude shocks. But that is the chance you have to take. But it does make sense to adjust the line to keep your online credibility intact.

I still live here...don't I?

The books I stacked up a few years back are still in the same order.
Remember when you cracked a joke about him and I laughed so hard,
I spilled tea on the floor.
The old fashioned tiles soaked that tea up,
Leaving my footprints.
Does he still get offended when you joke about him?
Please don't change the curtains or this paint without me.
I live in them remember?
When I sleep anywhere at night,
I think of the wall under the book case.
I find my clothes lying around,
As if I still live here,
But... don't I?

15 September, 2009,
At home, Ahmedabad

A little bit of religious passive smoking

Warning: I could easily laugh this subject off, take-it-easy as they say, but thinking about it seemed like a good warming up exercise before I start actually writing.

It is easy to belong to a group. But it is not that easy to not be a part of a group and still be around its members. I generally avoid to touch the subject, but last night, my mind was whirling around religion after some recent conversations.

They say religion is the opium of the people, Marx surely said and seemed to believe in it. When I am faced with a swig, I generally pass it. But I must say I can not help being the passive smoker. And as the side-effect of it all, I' can not help getting the subject. I generally prefer non-committal nods and smiles. But sometimes those on a religious high, end up getting disappointed or impatient with me. I prefer my sanity or the insane version of it. I make my own religion.

Ironically, you would be considered rude, opinionated (there is a lack of swear words for non-religious people) or ungrateful if you do not agree to such religious dogmas. Be thankful to God, what good you have and if you are not well, wait for him to solve your troubles.

Why wouldn't they let you take credit for your hard work, blood boiling, wrong choices and perspiration and spare you the burden. Can't simple 'cause' and 'effects' be good explanations?

I could entirely avoid the subject, but I owe this to my love of analogy. I might be able to throw that smoke from my lungs that I inhaled as the passive smoker remember?

It feels like religion and god as these masses represent them, are functioning like a business or an industry. This industry caters to people's fears, wishes, troubles, other emotional needs or inexplicable circumstances. And the beauty is, this business does not guarantee any results. It is allowed to be ambiguous in the name of keeping the faith. How I wish people could show more faith in themselves, take responsibilities for their actions, the good ones and accept the faults and be done with it? Why are we so egoistic that we need an outer entity to blame or take responsibilities for our actions?

I somehow feel it is possible to have faith, respect, integrity, honour, self-respect and a lot of good and bad things in life, even if you do not have any particular form of God, demanding your time, money (oh you would need a lot of it in this business), emotional and physical involvement.

While making ample use of words like 'pray', 'touch wood', 'keeping fingers crossed', 'best of luck' and more from that family, I wonder if in desperation to seek solutions to all our troubles, are we mistaking 'chance' with 'almighty' and it has been all snowballing into one entity of Mr. God? And I should refrain from suggesting if God could be a woman. Perhaps at the end of the day it is all just a matter of perspective.

It is a gray area. But I am glad a decent part of world population has experienced this gray area where reason is more threatening than religion. It gives me the freedom to chose not to smoke and avoid passive smoking as well.

It's the story of my life yaar!

... well that is how we feel when we open and skim through the self-help, diet, positive thinking, inspiring success kinda books.

My favourite people have been bringing these books to me and sometimes, I pick them up as part of my reading experiments.

When my favourite professor gifted me M Scott Peck's Road Less Travelled, it had the same old format, people in trouble, getting over it all through positive spirits, determination and all the ingredients you need to be firm and successful. I learnt a few lessons, or so I thought.

Mum and Dad, over many many years, have got me Zig Ziglar to Secret to lots of other useful bestsellers which have been very handy in knowing why these things are so popular.

Often when one is in a soup, A Chicken Soup for whatever Soul might not be the way to cop through any of it. But the thing is, these book are like instant gratification for the troubled souls. I'm starting to feel that the self-help books are the junk-f00d or dark chocolate for these souls which gives instant pleasure while you are in pain, but the effect lasts till the next trouble comes along. And if these books are helping you cop with them, trust me, you will need another book for the next problem.

To think of it, the genre has a varied target audience which is constantly going to be hungry. I wouldn't mind keeping some of those inspiring diet books (not the really useful ones) into the same category where they almost make you believe that eating the book is going to help you lose weight. Ironically, their target audience is also confused about religion and faith. Some self-help books disguise themselves as mini-biographies, describing lives of successful people (business, art cinema, corporate, sports, politics et el). The overfed, success and confidence starved readers are all game for it.

A frustrated journalist friend of mine wondered with a lot of 'fake positivity' floating around, aren't we just nurturing fake ego into a young generation which believes in positive thoughts but would read about them than act on them. It is just like praying to a God to solve your problems and do nothing about them.

Some are so addicted to the genre that they start believing as they've recovered from their fall, they can advise more people. I once came across an insurance agent who told me he had published a 'positive thinking' book and when I asked him to show it to me. He pulled out a spiral bound book printed on his computer where mainly, he had compiled list of hopefully positive words starting from each letter of alphabet.

I recently became member of the Bookmark library (ironically the franchise owner's son sits at the counter watching episodes of Friends loudly, calling the place a library), I was browsing through the titles. And half of the library is occupied by Danielle Steel and Nora Roberts, the rest is all self help with some occasional classics thrown in.

Well, a rampant generalisation of the genre through a blog doesn't seem like a good idea either. The genre does have some rare few really inspiring books as well. But I've been bugged by the 'fake positivism' for a very long time now. I want to see more reality. I want to see more fiction, more wit, more fun, more poetry and thinking.

Gawd, I'm asking for too much. I am gonna need to find a self-help book on how to get over that. Perhaps I should write one too.

Phew!

Before something happens (like my internet crashes, or electricity goes puff, I think of a book and get away, BJP gets more damaged, another stupid comedy releases in Bollywood after Daddy Cool, Life Partner, Love Khichdi or something like that, I get distracted... you get the point...) I need to finish this blog.

Before I end up writing another Hotch Potch kinda thing, I need to get to the point too. I did seem to have one. Meanwhile I was caught reading Deathly Hallows and watching Half Blood Prince again. But after that I'm reading some other beautiful books worth separate posts.

Pune and I were almost struggling to like each other. We've entered the mutual admiration stage now it seems. Builders and Rickshaw wallahs are the kamineys for me along with the flu virus that seem to be tainting the otherwise beautiful city. Yup, builders cause got an awesomely beautiful house here. In fact the surroundings are so breathtaking if you've made it to Mulshi dam or Lavasa. Glad I made it there at least.

Nature made a divine intervention and the city started growing on me. A few night outs, lots of good food and I can already pictured myself writing an I-Love-Pune blog.

A lot is brewing along with my new found addiction to Oats (How did I reach there?). Stay tuned, if you are tuned here at all, the place is about to explode with posts...