What makes a best read Tragedy Vs Comedy

Is there any mortal that exists in this world who is spared by tragedy?

What would be the sane choice of an emotionally devastated reader in the need of catharsis?

A skin-deep comedy or a relatable tragedy?

We read what resonates with our state of mind, gives validation to our emotions, elevates our intellect, invokes empathy and ultimately puts us at peace with our emotions. Comedy is not an answer to most of these. It exists only in the spur of the moment. We read the humorous account, we laugh and then we turn the page. Everything wanes the next moment.

So comedy or tragedy what touches the heart?

From the days of Aristotle and Shakespeare to our modern world, the language of pathos is used to shake the collective conscience of the audience and ultimately to strengthen the moral fabric of society. 

And it works like that. 

When I compare the perusal moments when I was reading Me before you, a romantic tragedy and The Rosie Project, a romantic comedy, the difference was stark. In the former case, I experience a kaleidoscope of emotions, I see the world through the eyes of a paralyzed man who choose death over life, and then through a lover’s eye who is on the verge of losing her love. Also, I see inside myself how I take my full functioning body for granted. By the time I reach the end of the book, there was a growing sense of gratitude in me and valued my relationships more. While in the latter case, I was merely a laidback reader amusing myself with the plot to reach the predictable end. 

Tragedy is embedded in some phases of almost everyone’s life. And through books, we can find a voice for our deep down tragedies, which can stir our emotions, soften our hearts and bring us closer to each other.

*The above post was my contribution to the Costa debate for Emirates Literature Festival in 2020.*

Book Review: The Bastard of Istanbul

Book review of The Bastard of Istanbul.
Asya Kazanci, a bastard child born to Zeliha, is living in an old Ottoman Konak—a house full of women and where all men die mysteriously at the age of forty. In the nuthouse came Asya’s American cousin in the pursuit of digging the turbulent past of Turkey associated with Armenian community. The past of both families are intertwined , shocking and devastating, only to be unveiled in the end. One has to be patient for that.But this is not all. The book is clogged with multicolored characters,starkly different from each other, with their long description and each character has its own story, then the stories are joined by a fine thread to make one big coherent story. Mind blown?

Then in the midst of this dysfunctional family, there is Asya and Armanoush. Both girl are unlike any nineteen year olds, their mature and philosophical dialogues were too much to digest.
Also Mustafa, the only surviving male of Kanzaci family, is left forgotten amid the whole bedlam.
Reading the book was hoping from one estranged segment of Istanbul to another; from the alcoholic tattoo artist to religious clairvoyant with headscarf, from nationalist history teacher to Dipsomaniac cartoonist mocking the President as wolf, from a rebellious Asya to chaste Armanoush.
I liked reading it, although sometimes I was left frustrated, but still I managed to finish it.
Happy reading 🙂
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Fact Vs Fiction

Book lovers across the globe share their common love for books, but when the centuries-old debate of fact vs fiction arrives, they are still at loggerheads.

Being a voracious reader and an aspiring writer, I have no scruples in saying that fiction fascinates me more.

Over the period of time, people are drawn towards books, when confronted with the harsh realities of life and nothing can be a perfect escape than fiction. This is when the intellect trickles down to the wider masses and libraries garner earnest attention.

But fiction is trivialized mostly by regarding it as a narrative based on falsehood and pretension, in comparison to non-fiction, that is on truth and reality.

I staunchly believe that every piece of fiction speaks of writers’ experiences with reality, but with a tinge of creativity to make it more appealing for the readers. Just like non-fiction, which is factual truth conceived through a subjective lens.

In her international bestseller, _Eat Pray Love, Elizabeth Gilbert_ employed literary style to captivate the readers, without which It could be a mundane read.

Saying that fiction is nothing but a pack of lies is to disparage the ingenuity of mankind. With powerful imagination, one can not only strike the right chord within the audience but can also bare the depths of truth at the same time.

For instance, Jojo Moyes in her poignant book, Me Before You, evokes empathy for the handicapped with powerful fictitious characters that make it the International phenomenon.

Dan Brown literary fiction The Lost Symbol gives a kaleidoscopic view of Washington DC along with a mesmerizing plot that glued the readers to the book.

The bottom line is we all need a tinge of fiction in our realities to make our lives more bearable.

The above post was my contribution to the Costa debate of Fact Vs Fiction.

Journey through Europe: My dream vacation

What particularly tempts me when it comes to traveling is to experience the dichotomy this world beholds.

Although a considerable number of events have been passed to dilute the beautiful memories that we spew in those five days, but i still cherish them.

The strangeness in a far off lands, trills me. I see people bustling through streets so familiar yet so strange.

The fulfillment of life-long dream can’t be explained in words. So when the day finally arrived and we packed all our belongings. Husband, two toddlers and me.

I still remembered the journey when I saw the mesmerizing snow-capped mountains of Europe from plane window. Those transient appearance of clouds and the shimmering rays of sun playing hide and seek. I just love it.

Brussels, Belgium

We kick-start our tour from Brussels, Belgium along with colors of autumn.

Colors of autumn

The rich heritage in the backdrop of autumn sky.

Grand place

When it comes to traveling within Europe, we opted for train. So from Brussels to Paris we board Thalys and what a beauty it was.

The train journey itself is very fascinating and despite of being sleep deprived for the past 20 hours, I still chose to stay awake.

And there comes the dreamy Paris.

Paris, France

Champs-Elysses

Arc de Triomphe

Place du Trocadero

A brief walk from this place lead to one of the wonder of world- Eiffel Tower.

Panoramic view of the most romantic city of the world.

Took few moments to absorb this stunning cityscape.

We board hop-on-hop-off bus tour, that took us to various attractions of the city. Our next stop was The Tuileries Garden.

And there we hop onto our tour bus to our next destination.

Mont Marte

After two days in Paris, we packed our suitcases to our next destination.

Zurich, Switzerland

On the shores of Zurich lake we had a three night stay in a near hotel. The serenity of this place has no equals.

Lake Zurich

During our two days stay in Switzerland, first day was entirely dedicated to Mount Pilatus. The journey to Mount Pilatus itself is mesmerizing. From the shores of Lake Luzern to Kriens it gets our adrenaline going.

Lake LuzernThe drizzle on the gushing waves makes the view more captivating indeed.

Cruising the Lake Luzern

I can’t help myself brandishing my camera quite frequently for capturing shots.

The trip to Mount Pilatus is a famously called Golden Round trip. It starts from taking a cruise from Lake Luzern that made its way to Kriens. And from Kriens there are cogwheel trains that took the steepest journey to Mount Pilatus.

Kreins station

My eyes were fixated on the carpeted lush green landscape.

Boarding cogwheel-world steepest cogwheel train

On our way to Mount Pilatus

And the snow started to fall.

Summit of Mount Pilatus

We were more concerned about places in the close radius of Zurich, for that next day we opted for Rhine Falls.

The way to Rhine falls.Europe’s largest waterfall

And this marks the end of our trip, and with beautiful memories and huge stock of pictures we headed back to our home.

An adieu to Bahrain

“We are leaving Bahrain”

After exasperated discussions, possible rationales, recurring opinions and indifferent responses -my husband vettoed the decision of staying. Frankly I was glad that the impeding decision is made at last.

So Bags zipped and boxes sealed. After a toil of five hours everthing that we owned from this house is crammed into cartons. And here i am bidding teary eyed farewell to a place that had been my home for more than two and half years.

Humans are complex creatures and so is my relationship with the island. Topsy turvy upon the onset and a deep attachment in the end.

This wee island has been the witness of every flux in my life. I came here heavy with my first baby and now leaving with two kids in tow.

I still remembered my apprehensions when leaving the contempary urban cityscape of Dubai and moving to this remote island. And how my perspective resurfaced while moving across the serene landscape that it offers.

It amused me what my usual retort used to be whenever I was back from vacations to home country or Dubai- its strangely peaceful here.

The tranquility that prevails in the island is a riddle itself. Sitting together with friends, we always pour our opinions what make Bahrain so peaceful from the rest of gulf countries.

Speaking of friends another factor that cemented my attachment with Bahrain was the circle of friends I made with time. What makes goodbyes so terrible is indeed the elusive human connections that we leave behind.

P.S. My awful photography is not doing justice with the beauty it owns.

Why I stopped posting quotes

Dear everyone,

They are everywhere. Snapchat story, whatsApp status, twitter timeline, insta page.  
The sage, philosophical and unmistakably intense stuff.

In this world where people are becoming way too intellectual, I am getting unapologetically defiant.

Everyone around me is either masquerading as Rumi or Stephen Covey. My social accounts are flooded by daily quotes which I now dont even bother to read.

People on social sites swiftly switch to Karl Marx mode from Deepak Chopra mode-ofcourse depending upon the situation. 

 Its literally becoming toxic. 

I read something good posted by someone which is brazenly contradicting his/her persona. 

They flooded everyone’s timeline with motivational stuff but in reality they sucks the last speck of motivation from them. 

Everyday tons of good, deep, motivational and appeasing stuff is posted on social media. People read it, relate it and sometimes internalize it and then scroll down. There it goes down the drain.

Value the words. Embellish your conversations with beautiful words rather than your social sites. 

Thankyou.

A gift to my baby

• 

Once in the sultry month of May

In the arms of the angel from the sky

Arrived a little bundle of joy
Seeing her delicate dainty doll

Said her mother overwhelmed as she was

“I name her my little Shanzay girl”
Amazed and excited and little bit shy

His big brother welcomed her like a goodboy
Togather they play togather they cry

Thats how the days went by
From diapers, wipes, cerelac and cuddling toys

To turning twisting and and creating noise

Everthing was like a rollar coaster ride
Amid yawning, beaming and shedding tears

Oh how quickly she turns to one year
Once again its the sultry month of May

And today is her birthday!!
What is the best thing a mother can give

Love care and lots of prayers
Wherever you go whatever you become

“You will always be my apple of the eye”.

Untold fables

When spirits are killed…
You taught me to hate myself.

You made me worst than a beggar – who is earnestly seeking your benevolence in every matter.

You have distanced me from my every relation and made this world an isolation for me.

You have stolen my most coveted possession and made me a living dead.

You have given me grave thoughts and unasnwered questions.

Yes you are a criminal as you killed my spirits.

When a sinner is waiting to be damned…

Sitting in the far end of a dark room, face buried beneath the burden of the sins. The only illuminance that the sinner has allowed is the thin beam of moon falling on his face, making his tears sparkle in the dark and quiet room. Now when he had done to his fullest all the questionable deeds, he still is seeking the soft place from his Master, whom he had long time before annoyed.

When love is not requited…

At last the sight of him soothes her sore eyes. she wants to scream her heart out. She wants to tell him that she has conceded her defeat and has succumbed herself to the voice of her heart. She wants to see his eyes blink with gaiety upon hearing that she was thinking about him last night. She was restless. She was oblivious that she is standing among the crowd full of people.

Every passing moment mounted her anxiety. He seems oblivious of her appearence- rather purposefully. She knows that mere a galance of him on her will seal all the seams of the previous days. But her heart rang alarms when he drifted forward just ignoring her completely. The vibe game that always worked failed her today.

These are simply the moments that happen everyday to anyone at anytime. But we move on considering that this fuss is too innocous to consider, too crappy to behold and an overly ubiquitious phenomena thus profoundly ignored.

And the days that shall seal all the seams of the obscure times-actually never come.

The irony of Valentine’s day in the land of pure

The nation wide ban on valentine’s day is not as ridiculous as the people protesting it. Let us not demean the ban at national level-if its implemented in the wake of useless spending that has commercialize the whole thing . To  harness such the mindless binge spending then ban comes a good step indeed but let us think that way. The money that would have spent in buying a flower or a heart shape balloon is no way going to bring a smile on the face of destitute ones. 

But what actually seems ludarious is the bunch of people who are protesting it. They are embarking themselves to the epitome of hypocrisy. Yes.

Holding a playcard with hacykened phrases, these men are in reality those folks who forgot to bat an eye when a woman passes by. Who objectify them, dishonour them and harrass them. 

But see this is something that acceptable. They can do that but they cant see the two people sitting to gather or sharing flower or eating chocolate.

They are vehemtly displaying to celebrate Haya day instead of v-day but do they have haya in their eyes?

The irony doesnt ends here. The valentine day ban is followed in spirit by those spouses who proclaimed that its against our religion. So they restrictedly ban themselves from saying “love you”to their better halves. But it doesnt matter because its restricted to say this the other 364 days whatsoever. 

Pangs of a dud soul

Things went wrong when I realized that my mind and body are not synced.

I was deeply exhilarated about their auspicious union as it will produce the type of results I was yearning for ages. But somehow they choose to remain apart.

“Mind is a terrible thing to waste”.
Yes these piercing words struck in my mind while my sleepless eyes were shut tight. There was a sea of thoughts encircling me slowly. Their grip was getting more profuse and impactful on my mind.I tried to escape these influxes of thoughts, as once I get trapped in their vastness turning back was impossible.

I was waiting for the lady luck to come and rescue me from this labyrinth of apathy.

This was how my life lingers on. Morning, an unwelcome thing illuminates everything except my inner self.

I fathom where things went wrong or perhaps they were wrong from the very beginning its just my dormant conscience didn’t wake up to realize this.

You moan. You curse yourself for the nihilism. Then you move out of the box and search things to put blame on.

First always comes the most loved ones. The more we love the more we expect. Your parents. No matter how old you get on in years your parents are always the number one receiver. Then you blame yourself. Its just like the vicious cycle goes on until a meek sound of consciousness muses ”its you”.

You peeked in past more often, re-live the old self of yours to discern the grey areas. Then an epiphany struck that electrifies your mind.

Your mind is shouting but the body is in invisible shackles. The urge to put an end to this apathy went more earnest and it was like you are going to burst.

But body and mind still are not sync.