Bookaholics ahoy!

NewYork Times' selection of 100 noteworthy books of the year, here! There's also a link to similar lists for all years back till 1997.

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The price of development

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There used to be a strecth of road on my way to work, which had an enormous(by Trivandrum standards) paddy field on one side. From the Terrace of Bhavani, it looked beautiful, the light green patch among the otherwise darker green canopy. And it was green all year round. I don't know what was peculiar about that particular crop, for I have seen such paddy fields change color with seasons. In the evenings the place would be swarming with small flying insects, which hit our faces like missiles when we rode through the stretch. On friday nights, while returning from the routine carouse sessions, we used to stop by the place, releive ourselves, talk and watch the stars, before getting convinced ourselves that the ground is not moving beneath our feet, and the bed back home would be a much cozier place to spend the night. The whole place is red now. No, paddy fields can't change color. But the land is getting filled. We can see Tipper lorries bearing "Emergency: Technopark work...
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A night's tale

It was really uncharacteristic of me to wake up in the middle of the night. I mean, I dont usually get up in my sleep even to piss. But here I am, having woken up like a shot bang in the middle of deep sleep. Wondering what was it that caused the sudden rush of adrenalin, I try to close my eyes and retrace the fading realms of any dreams I might have seen... or more likely, nightmares. No, there isn't any. I am wet. Err, I mean, I am sweating. I sharpen my ears to listen to the drone of the ceiling fan, which has a habit of melting in your ears once it goes on for a while, pretty much like the tick of the clock. You cant hear it unless you really strain your ears and concentrate. No, I dont hear any. The power must have gone off. And that explains all the sweat. I scrambled up, almost stumbled upon the bean bag, but found my way to the blacony door and opened it. Ah! what a relief. It was so cold and crisp outside. There was no moon but I could see the silhouettes of trees. And the...
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A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away....

I’ve been toying with the idea of writing about a movie for the past 3-4 days. But it scared the hell out of me. Ok, so what’s the big deal? Both the People’s Council of China and the junta in Cambodia have expressed through written communication that they’re okay with the idea of me writing about another movie. Then? It’s the name of the movie which is setting me back, because the name is, so unnervingly for any connoisseur of the silverscreen art, “Starwars”. Now you get the magnanimity of the problem at hand. There are two extremes of people who’ve seen the movie. The guy who sat in the next row to me; a forty something chap wearing a lungi and carrying a three-fold popy umbrella, desperately hoping to catch some sleaze in the Engleeeshu-padam. The poor chap had his moment of Nirvana when at the end of the second half, Natalie Portman appeared wearing what looked like a super-mini. That’s one end. And on the other extreme, we have people who know every single character in the movie ...
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