Search for a book

They say you can find even god if you seek him properly but today after wandering all around Bhotahity and Ratnapark I could not find a good book of Quantitative Techniques. This is not a book I am searching with a choice but rather with an obligation of a course I am pursuing. They also say to seek god one does not need to wander from one place to another, from one temple to another, god is inside oneself, one just need to concentrate and find that god. My concentration has never been so focused and selfless as I have never found the god inside me. I race between one thing to other when I try to unlayer myself, turn the leaves after leaves inside me. There hasn’t been a long time since I have started believing in god and even that was for selfish reasons yet I believe there he is or may be she is. What’s in gender? God is god after all.

Today was probably just another bad day for me. After visiting one book shop to another I still had found nothing but coincidentally I found so many people I hadn’t seen for years, some people whose images had been wiped up from my faintest of memories. I met my primary school teacher that’s more than eighteen years back at time I hadn’t even hit the double figure of my age. Then I almost collided with one of my father’s friend who I hadn’t seen for almost twenty years. Now one will wonder do I really mean I recognized them and I should say yes I did. At the time when those images where carved into my memories I used to be sharp today I am only outwardly witty nothing close to sharp. In the crowded lanes of Bhotahity the whole city seemed to have come, is Kathmandu really so small was a question I was asking myself in my soliloquies. By the way if I close my eyes something else opens its eyes inside me, it is just another me, who keep whispering into my brain one thing after another. These soliloquies are the reasons why I have not been able to find a god inside me.

I really struggled to come out of my burial. I was buried in works and before I could complete one another work will arrive. If one had to breathe voluntarily I would have died finding no time to breathe. I was thirsty as I walked the littered roads, my mouth parched. There was no water in office today because both the peons were absent. I measured the roads between Thamel to Shahid-Gate in vain. Many book sellers didn’t know what Quantitative Techniques really was. To be true even I didn’t know till few days back, I didn’t know statistics was called Quantitative techniques. When the teacher brought the subject before class, and discussed its role in decision making I was puzzled how could decision be quantified? And now I know it. It is not actually quantifying decision but aiding the making of proper and effective decision. Luckily I am not ashamed of my ignorance and that is why I enjoy the Eureka moments. The transition between complex problems to easy solutions is such a wonderful experience. Problems are problems until we find a solution, (what a silly statement it seems to be but that’s it). Complexity are properties of things, events etc. until a way-out has been found. Possibly simplicity is the fundamental property of every thing, may be we just need to discover it. The ‘Eureka’ moments cherishes us.

I almost ran out of the break time as I wasted all the time running helplessly from one book store to next. I cannot afford staying hungry, my hunger for knowledge would never be satiated with a burger but without a burger I will not be able to stay alive to enjoy the hunger for knowledge. Unfortunately this hunger for Quantitative Analysis is an induced one not a genuine one. Hopefully I will find it somewhere else.

From below the line of poverty

Even with a power cut of 16 hours a day, the city of Kathmandu looked still polluted and noisier. Not only the people who contributed to the hubbub it’s the new range of generator that not only polluted the air but also made irritating sound. My pocket was a little heavier than yesterday since my salary was deposited today. With installment of loans and few more deductions my payroll looked so helpless. I am planning to enroll to a graduate degree but even with all my salary I will fall short by Rs. 3000 (Roughly around USD 45) a month. I have to get a part-time job in the morning. I am enrolling myself to the degree for the sake of interest in spite of the fact that I could have enrolled to cheaper degrees but I didn’t. 

For the first time yesterday I remained almost hungry even after the lunch since my wallet was empty and still three days remained for the end of month in the Nepalese calendar. At home I was so frustrated since I had to compromise the very basic need of a human being, ‘food’.  For those who know me, know me as someone forgetful and rather unpredictable. I ruminated over the expenditures this month since this was the first time when I hadn’t been able to save money when a month ended. I pondered with closed eyes, still frustrated for the way life had turned out to be. Even stressing my head which was already aching for more than ten minutes, I couldn’t find where I had failed. Apart for my allocation for lunch and travel only books are the one where I deliberately spend relatively large sum. I usually allocate around Rs. 1000 (USD 15) for books. I had been to Pokhara where I had over spent but even that shouldn’t have made my situation miserable.  Just then I got an SMS from a friend which said “I won’t be able to return your book before the second week of next month”. OK, that is what I had forgotten, I had spent another Rs. 1000 (USD 15) on that book. I had bought four books this month which summed to Rs. 2500, Rs. 1500 more than regular. No electricity means no computers, no television which means the only time pass, enjoyment I can offer myself are books. I have finished seven books this month.

So, I started with the weight of my pocket. The city doomed in darkness was still displaying its glamour in the sun which will excuse itself for the day anytime from now. Just to avoid climbing the steps over the over-head bridge built by the KMC’s office (Kathmandu Metropolitan City), I cross the road at the zebra-crossing a little earlier but to my dismay the traffic police had blocked the zebra crossing. I looked at the detested over head bridge which seemed to make face to me. I pulled myself but just at the door of a book shop I just took a turn and I found myself asking ‘do you have Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers?’ the expected reply ‘No’. May be this is what they call the power of money. Yesterday I couldn’t feed myself fully and today I was giving me a different treat. I wanted to backtrack right away but the smell of fresh leaves of books was just too irresistible. I was looking at the shelves decorated with variety of books. There were Bestsellers which would have normally landed to my hand anyway and the pages would have been turned but no. All of a sudden it seemed my appetite for fiction seemed to be a passé. I spent a greater part in the management and economics section. I looked if there was any politics and development section but there wasn’t any. I returned empty handed. I cannot wait for the day when I will be enrolled in the college where a good library awaits me.

But then for those who know me also know my love for books may be just temporary. It may be replaced by new one very soon. Albeit, books and movies may decline in the list of my priorities, they will reclaim their position sooner or later. The recently read books has certainly changed and widened my view of this world. These days my subject of choice is economics and development. Luckily these books have made me realize we as a nation are not at any hopeless situation but the recent power crisis has terrified me that we are already in the path of sharp decline. Everyday more and more industries are closing, surplus labor with no jobs in hand is in rise. While I was pleased to know in spite of the civil war the living standard of people in average had risen I am so taken aback the restoration of peace hasn’t been able to do much.

Roots, a book by Alex Haley

After a real long time, a book disturbed my sleep, a character denied to be forgotten even for a while and I spent quite some time turning side. The imaginary cacophony of African tribe didn’t let my consciousness drowse. The drums kept beating and “Kunta Kinte” kept me engaged. I felt sorry for him, my throat choked several times as his story unfolded. I saw him being dragged from his tribe in Ghana, in chains buried in his filth into the slavery. The images of his attempts to run back, the atrocities of whites, the trading of blacks like any other good, barring them from speaking their tongue, barring them from allowing them to inherit the name of their father, their children put to labor at an early age, their women raped. Throughout the book I detested that I am among those who grinded their fellow human being and I kept feeling sorry for the poor men. The small post card of Bob Marley glued in my closet kept singing ‘Buffalo soldier..’. How many times I sang his lines ‘Get up stand up, stand up for your right’ as Kunta Kinte fall prey to brutal atrocities. I had a tough time controlling my tears roll down when he caught the feet of his ‘Massa’ pledging him not to sell his beloved daughter. I was really torn down when his wife’s plea to not sell his daughter reminding him how much had she done to the deaf ‘Massa’. I just couldn’t continue reading and to console myself I had to switch on the TV. My heart wrenched when their 16 year old daughter Kizzy was raped the very first night she was bought by a new massa. The book told a history of a family of people who lived in America. I felt so sad as she told the story of his father ‘Kunta Kinte’, his tongue which became a tradition and every new born generation after generation told the same story to their ‘yunguns’ (young ones) until seven generation later Alex Haley, the author of the book thought about doing a research and wrote the book. I rejoiced when his great-great grand children were freed from slavery and how much respect I had for Abraham Lincoln for abolishing slavery. I understood why a black man had cried when Barrack Obama was elected the new president of the United States. The gaunt, black figure of Kunta Kinte revisited me throughout the day even when I was not reading the book. I admired him for having the courage to share the story of his homeland and his people to his child who set this up as a tradition. Just when one is playing a video game one gets so engaged in the game (racings) that when one has to swerve the graphical car in the screen he bends his entire body, I prayed for Kunte to succeed when he tried to escape. I respected him when other black mates of his called him ‘Toby’ the name given by his massa, and he yelled back at them that his name was ‘Kun-tay’. Probably that protest led his generation to come out with this heart wrenching book and as the book concludes ‘ history is written by winners’ the blacks have really won the battle to freedom and its their history and it has been written with pride.
While reading this book I remembered years back when I went to home of these two girls named Nizu and Rizu once we talked about family name. The former asked me why is family name so important, I had told them it gives one ancestral identity and about lineage. I wish I had read this book back then and had been able to tell them the true story of ‘Kunta Kinte’ of Gambia.
The next book that awaits me is ‘Hot, flat and Crowded’. I hope it leaves me equally fascinated.

Anna Karenina

Just a few minutes back I finished Leo Tolstoy’s ‘Anna Karenina’. I read the book after reading ‘War and Peace’ and after reading that Tolstoy considered Anna Karenina as the only novel he wrote obviously because he liked it. Though both his books ‘war and peace’ and ‘Anna Karenina’ are very popular, I liked the former. After reading ‘Anna Karenina’ I wondered why the book was titled thus when Anna’s account is lesser as compared to Levin. Like in ‘War and Peace’ there is elaborate description of parties that used to take place in Tsarian Russia, but I found the book rather dull in the beginning. I loved it towards the end when Anna starts loosing her sanity, she starts living in a fear that Vronsky, the man for whom she left her husband, her son and became a subject of despise to the society has stopped loving her. She puts question and answers the questions on behalf of Vronsky herself. It is such a wonderfully written. One cannot remain without feeling pity for the woman. It’s obviously the story of love if Anna is to be considered but as in War and Peace, Tolstoy ends up with his philosophy about life, religion and the whole world.
While reading ‘War and Peace’, I thought the author is sharing so many things, sufferings of his own through his character Pierre. I was so surprised that what I thought happened to be true. It is written that Pierre is a portrait of Tolstoy himself along with his alter-ego Prince Andrew. Now after reading ‘Anna Karenina’, I am again thinking the character Levin might share resemblances with the author. Even I could associate myself with Levin, the way he thought about death, about religion, about his doubtfulness of his own position if he could change the world.
When Anna leaves her husband, I wondered if that was right thing to do. Isn’t that a cheating, infidelity? Has anyone right to ruin others life. May be it depends upon the circumstances. The instincts of man surprise himself at times owing to the fact that we are selfish by nature. To observe things as a spectator is completely different than actually experiencing the arduous circumstances. It was a pity for Anna who saves the matrimony of her brother in the beginning of the book ruins her own married life and eventually ruining herself. At one end her husband and her son suffers while at others Vronsky suffers for loving her, for fighting the world with might which turns completely against him. Anna a self-confident, lively woman all of a sudden is pushed into never ending suffering.
I have read many books, watched many movies I have thoroughly enjoyed in the beginning but have been let down at the end. When we read a book or watch a movie, we want the zeal to be on the rise. I feel I found many good books insipid because of the way they ended, while there are books that have been dull towards the beginning but highly engaging as it approaches its end. Personally I like books that engages me from its very beginning till its end however if such books are not available I would go for books that might be a little dull in the beginning but progresses eventually. Many people dump a book after reading few pages because they don’t find the book interesting, I on the other hand rarely dump a book once I get hold of it, so for me I like the books which progresses as one turns pages. Anna Karenina is one of such book. The last few pages that deal with Anna’s confusion, restlessness makes the book exquisite.
Though a wonderful tale, I found it dull at times and it was not something I would have repented for not reading.

War and peace

Wow I have finished reading the epic War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy after putting it off twice earlier in my life. The first time I denied myself the treat of reading the book was when I was in class 12, I had brought it home from library but those days the studies used to be so tough that I just gave up the idea. Then I tried again three years back but the names were so confusing to me at that time that I again gave it up for the second time though it was always in the list of ‘books I want to read’ and I am so glad that I finished it. The book is simply amazing. In spite of being a canvass of almost five hundred characters, one is never entangled in conflicts or looses the track of the character. There is love, patriotism, hatred, war, self-conflicts, politics. It portraits the human life so well and one feels so much for the characters. To a wonder one does not loathe any of the characters; the enemies are given the due credits for the bravery.
Surprisingly I finished the epic of 1315 pages in mere six days thanks to no works at office and enough free time at home as well. Luckily no work has been pending because of the book. The epilogue is too beautiful the way it tries to deal with life, happiness, destiny, and rise and fall and so on. What a book?

"A Thousand Splendid Suns", a wonderful story

The last book of Khaled Hosseini ‘The kite runner’ had brought lumps on my throat while his ‘A thousand splendid suns’ gave the final stroke. Last evening sitting in my low bed with one hand holding the book, I saw the papers wet, it had brought tears. I had felt the pain a little earlier but when I finally couldn’t stop I didn’t know. I didn’t know when did the tears roll but there they were in the book. I realized the cup of tea which had been brought earlier had become cold, it had entered my room an hour earlier. I do not remember who had brought it, I only remembered I had asked him/her to put the tea in the table near by. I had been reading the book from Wednesday morning and couldn’t postpone the pages to be turned; I had finished it in two days.
I hadn’t picked the book intentionally. I had in fact gone in search of another book and when the seller said he didn’t have that book, I just took a walk in the store to fall upon something interesting where I picked Khaled Hosseini. I read the reviews and it was probably the book I had yearned to read.
The book is about an Afgani child Mariam, who grows into a girl and a woman, its story of her struggle, of her hardships. She establishes a special relationship with another girl Laila. The story is also about Laila and her hardships. It shows the picture of a country battered in war against the monarch, then against the Russians, against the Mujahiddins and finally against the Taliban. It tells a story of country where the life has no value, right has no value and where women are cursed and loathed. How in the name of religion, the Sharia law forbids women to get education, to walk freely, to get a job even to speak in public and to talk with strangers.
Had I been a woman I might have cried lot earlier but it was towards the end I broke. The exploitation of women, her treatment like an animal is painful. When one thinks it might be the last incident where the heart moans and pains, the incidents that come later become harder and more painful. The sacrifices a woman makes will leave the reader appreciating the greatness of woman being. “How much can she tolerate?” we keep on asking. “How low can a man go?” to worsen the life of his wife or any other female part leaves us torn apart.
After reading the book, the face of Mariam, her sacrifices denied to leave me. I sat almost an hour, staring the ceiling of my room as I lied on my back in my bed. I believe the women still live in situations worse than described in the novel, her greatness is more than shown in the book. Mariam will be with me for a real long time with me. I wouldn’t have regretted if this book had cost me more than thousand. A thousand splendid suns is a splendid story. Those who like reading will love this and for those who do not like reading it will spring love for books and to read more.

A wonderful book to read

I do not clearly remember the first story that had my eyes drowned in tears but I guess it was the story of Nicholas and Jacapo, I listened time and again sitting on the lap of my father. The last that had me choked was Mitch Albom’s Five People you meet in heaven just few months back. Then just day before yesterday I sat with lumps in my throat in my bed as the curtains flapped across the wind that was invading my room from the open window. I looked at the night searching for the moon just to see if it has seen lives as portrayed in the book. I knew it has been and will be spectator to so many hardships but the book was really harrowing. The book ‘The kite runner’ by Khaled Hosseini was something I picked by sheer coincidence. The other book I picked next also happened to be his. Both the stories from Afghanistan. I had read and heard about Taliban but just as a news just like any other news. One thing aroused my interest in the country when I saw the statue of Buddha in Bamiyan being destroyed by the Talibans. The issue had raised world wide concern and it had made me desire to know about them. A country I have always felt sorry for, people I have empathized and the cover page of a torn National Geograhic Magazine where a girl with eyes of cat looks into the camera in awe, fear and distress.
The book is a heart rending journey that brought lumps to my throats once again. The book is so simple, yet so penetrating and painful. I wanted the book to lull me sleep yesterday, but it left me awake wandering within my thoughts for a long time. Whenever we read a story we usually bring the characters to life, we form an image of their look and their expression, throughout my struggle to fall asleep the characters refuse to get away from my brain. I felt sorry and I felt betrayed. My heart was completely with one of the character. I have been a kind of escapist lately or should I say overly optimistic I have learnt to live with belief that everything will be fine in the due course and everything that is happening is happening because it has to. When there is something I don’t want to see I just turn away from it, hide my face, and I believe whatever I don’t see is fine and good. Probably this has been my approach with life lately. I might be living in hallucination so when I came across the first bitter experience in the book, I wanted to postpone the whole book. I was not prepared to feel bad not prepared to loose my sleep but I did. The book is so engaging that I can’t postpone it. There is one difference between a story and a novel, in story end comes after an incident but in novel such incidents come and go to be followed by another. A story is a pond while a novel is a river and this book ‘The kite runner’ is a holy one. I have yet to complete a book but I have already slipped it into the list of my best books. I am convinced that the story will unfold more wonderfully but even if it doesn’t whatever I have completed makes it my best book.
Many times good writings go un-noticed because they are so inter-twined but this one has a smooth flow. It is also one of the simplest books I have read, even a school going student in pre-secondary level will understand the book. It has a story of a country ripped by war and imperialist movement. A friendship springs in the backdrop, politics in the country changes the lives of its citizen but more than that its an incident that takes the story forward. It is such a convincing piece a must read.