A bit of Bond and... book cricket

Uneventful, it indeed, had been over the past days. Reading restricted to the dailies - and nothing really catching my fancy. The National brought out their glossy 'Ultratravel' - felt it was a little sister imitation of FT's 'How to Spend it.' Even the design.

Reading on travel is now getting wearisome - may it is time we got back to good ol' Eric Newby. Oh yes, there is always, Tim Mackintosh-Smith to fall back on. Those who have missed 'The Hall of a Thousand Columns,' it is a must read. Will especially appeal to Malayalis, as he gives profound insights on Kerala's history.

Amongst all the clamour of support for the Allied intervention in Libya, this story was a refreshing read; it provided a sane perspective.

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For a quick read, it was Ian Fleming's 'The Living Daylights.' Stunning, page-turner.

It is hard to believe how the murder of one person could have caused such jittery for the establishment (fictional, of course), when now the UK goes about in utter glee bombing Libya, not having learnt from Iraq and Afghanistan.

Perhaps in the 60s, the world had a better and more introspective moral code.

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The best came from Suresh Menon, who wrote about 'book cricket' in this Tehelka column.

Took me straight to my own book cricket days with a dog-eared Oxford dictionary. Suresh's fav included Gundappa Vishwanath. My own favourite combo was Gavaskar and Chetan Chauhan.

Like the author, I cheated too - Chauhan invariably got limited opportunities to be at the crease; the last ball of the over invariably ended in a single (in book cricket, the page number corresponding to 8) and Gavaskar volleyed the balls for 4's, 6's and an occasional single to give Chauhan a batting life.

(Pic: From Hinduonline; no copyright violations intended)

Aadu Jeevitham and then some...

Long-delayed, yes, but finally finished Benyamin's 'Aadu Jeevitham' recently. My biggest issue in reading the book was with film director Blessey, who had announced he is making the novel a film with Prithviraj in the lead.

I simply couldn't shake Prithviraj off my head as I tried to identify with the protagonist Najeeb, who happens to live for three years and some, virtually confined in a remote (as remote as the world ever could be) farmhouse.

For some reason, I see Prithviraj as a gross misfit to play Najeeb. Najeeb, to me, is one of those countless (faceless) Malayalis who are forced to slog for a living in the Gulf. They cannot be this flamboyant young actor, who (again personally speaking) seems to have just a permanent scowl on his face than anything else. (Well, happy to be proved wrong).

Once I cast aside Prithviraj, and gave Najeeb the face I fancied (a wiry man with a thick moustache and curly hair; dark brown and short), the reading was easier.

Yet, the novel, somehow didn't work for me to the extent I expected. Maybe my expectations were sky-high, having read Benyamin's brilliant interview in Mathrubhumi weekly (that floored me and made my a slavish fan of the author). Perhaps I expected the magic of an Alchemist in 'Aadujeevitham.'

For me 'Aadujeevitham' was an extended reportage - with some powerful visual elements (the snake procession in the desert, for example). In the intial pages, it was author over protagonist. But yes, a must read for all Gulf Malayalis.

Incidentally, the other day, spoke to a Malayali taxi driver in Dubai, who told me of coming across several such 'goatherders' in Saudi Arabia. The driver used to supply materials for a farm, not much different from the settings of Najeeb.

I asked him about 'Aadujeevitham.' He wasn't interested at all. "Oh there are hundreds like him in Saudi Arabia," he said. But yes, it took one Benyamin to bring that tale to our midst.

****

Also read this spectacular obit on Warren Christopher, in FT.

It concludes:

"'My task, he wrote, 'has been the serve as the steward, not the proprietor, of extraordinary public trust.'"

Nice one, that!