Message:)

Dear all,

Writing is a priceless gift that helps us to showcase our innermost thoughts, ideas, desires and dreams be it in the form of poetry, fiction, non-fiction or an article ; and reach out to a host of readers, far and beyond, in an attempt to capture their attention and kindle their literary buds.

I have often heard people say “anybody can write.” This is true but I would go on to add that those with passion and perseverance tend to write better. It is really important to keep honing this skill and discover the hidden talent and our inner voice.

Some of us may have had that vague scribbling habit and lost it to the cacophony of humdrum life. But we can always rediscover and reinvent ourselves, as I have, and try to write and most importantly, keep at it.

Make a start and never ever give up, is the tip I imbibed from my writer friend.

I wish to pass on this message to you all, especially those who have been making the effort to read my blog titled “Expression of Pearls” on chirminey.blogspot.com and feel inspired.

Thank You!

 

Book review

    Revathi Raj Iyer: Hrishikesh Joshi’s Checkmate      

Hrishikesh Joshi
Checkmate
Fiction
Mumbai: Frog Books/Leadstart. 2015
ISBN: 978-93-81836-94-1
Pages 158 | Rs 150 | US$ 6

A bold novella with violence, passion and wildness

When I read the author's background, it made me wonder as to what sort of thriller a 21 year old "reluctant engineering student" could come up with. A few pages into it, I realised that this boy is a good story-teller with a well-hatched plot. He seems to have drawn inspiration from certain true-life events. The story also reflects the cult of terrorism in the present period, under the guise of Islam and holy war, which in reality may not end in an optimistic manner as depicted in this novella, though one would wish it does. Even then an ugly head may cast its shadow to continue the terror, as rightly pointed by Hrishikesh Joshi.

After a fairly tepid introduction of Muhammad Zia Ul Afridi, the most dangerous man on the planet after erstwhile Osama Bin Laden, I quite liked the portrayal of Justice Ramkrishna Shastry. He is a person with high ethical standards and held in high esteem as a Judge, although his character is not flawless. The Judge has a clandestine affair, realises his folly halfway through, is guilt-ridden and then becomes a loyal husband, which is not really relevant to the context of the story, but conjectured to make the character more realistic and suited to present times, perhaps?

This character kick-starts the whole plot. The author has well-thought of minute details including the judge's prosthetics, which is critical, as he is used to circumvent airport security. The story begins with the Judge and his dilemma, why and how he is being blackmailed into hijacking the plane with innocent passengers.

I could not help but notice a sardonic touch by the author of the jihadis or fidayeens – and quote, "They were Allah's favourite sons and would continue the great work and build a world which shall one day say namaaz five times a day and live under the sharia law, no matter how many lives may have been sacrificed."

Hrishikesh Joshi has touched upon real life happenings and fitted them as a backdrop to take the story further. This also serves as a refresher for things we may have forgotten over time.

As the hostage situation intensifies with the usual demand to release the terrorists from our jails, the intervention of the Prime Minister becomes necessary. It is hilarious to read the introduction of this character, "turban-clad Oxford veteran, who given a choice would gladly retire from politics and spend the rest of his life with his family, quietly and contently away from the public eye."

The writer has shown a knack for introducing characters who seem real life like, be it Vikram Roy, the stud agent of RAW, a la Bond style, or his girlfriend Romila or Abhishek, his deputy in command. At the same time, he has attempted some intelligent writing on the Research and Analysis Wing (RAW) and its functions, the line of demarcation between Intelligence Bureau (IB) and RAW and so on.

There are moments in the novella when your own imagination kicks in as you start to think if the Judge's wife Sudha's voice was recorded or was she still alive and speaking? This amply shows the author's deftness as a story teller.

As the plot thickens the violence increases and so does the raucousness, be it the love making of Vikram and his girlfriend Romila, or the sickening reminiscences of the gangster Asif Khan whilst interrogation or the ruthless torture of the stewardess whereupon the story takes an unexpected twist. The author has described the barbarism and horrors of the underworld vividly.

In a lighter vein, Hrishikesh Joshi does not forget to include lines to the effect that, "they bought condoms along the way."

Soon after the action packed scene, a chapter opens up with a spine chilling dream of Afridi and a passing reference to Genghis Khan, the founder of the Mongol Empire in the 12^th century, "who poured molten silver down the throats and eyes of the Generals of the defeated army."

The author has inserted flashbacks in a manner easy to understand which is extremely important; else it can have the reader confused.

Hrishikesh Joshi's penchant for the Himalayan treks is evident, particularly whilst describing agent Vikram's initial posting in the Himalayas or when Romila narrates her life story.

As the truth unravels, this short book is indeed a page turner that keeps building the pace of the story and captures the reader's interest with a dramatic sequence of unexpected twists and turns till the finish.

I must not reveal anything more about this novella except that it has been a good attempt by Hrishikesh Joshi, a promising writer; a few brush strokes on editing would have served well.
                                                                 Published in Muse India July/August, 2015                                                                               Thank You Atreya Sarma - Editor (fiction & reviews)                                                            
 

The Silent Voice {Revathi Raj Iyer}

She watched the clouds yonder;
and let her thoughts wander;
her lips part in wonder;
he stood there to bewilder.

She was desperate to chatter;
her mind filled with natter;
but she failed to gather;
her mind and body together.

Who was he she knew not;
she closed her eyes and thought not.

She gazed at the clouds in surrender;
the painful memories that torture;
not wanting to be tortured;
but he stood there to bewilder.

Who was he she knew not;
she closed her eyes and thought not.

She lay still in her cot;
waiting to bid farewell;
never return to a world;
where truth is damned;
and traitors flourish.

The child was gone;
and now it was her turn;
to return to her destiny;
in a world yonder…

• Published in yourstoryclub on 27th May, 2014. Thanks:-)

http://yourstoryclub.com/poetry-and-poem/poem-bewitched-silent-voice/
 

Timeless Friendship {Revathi Raj Iyer}

He and She, joyful and so full of life…
Destiny took a walk in their lives.

Friendship turned to love, they knew not when;
Love lit up a desire with a yearning to be together, they knew why then;
One starry night in each other’s arms, they unite, mind, body and soul;
Passion bore fruit and not before long, they brought to life lovely girl twins;
He and She, joyful and so full of life….
Destiny took a walk in their lives.

The call of the siren! War had just begun!
Brave men like hers just had to go, for they could never say no;
“Who is my papa?”
“I am,” she said.
“But you are my momma!
“Yes,” she said.
Her beloved girls were bewildered;
She bit her lip to the taste of her own blood;
Destiny took a walk in their lives.

The war seemed endless, he never came back or wrote;
He hated to kill and bury, but he had to do so;
Love, hatred and fear, he had seen it all;
Lost a limb and paralysed, yet he survived;
He knew he could never be the same;
The man that he once was;
A heart filled with desire, love and warmth.

Time flew, seasons changed;
Destiny took a walk in their lives.

Two wrinkled faces lit up like stars;
As their eyes met within the walls of an asylum;
Tears of joy and sorrow mingled;
Words choked up within the depths of their past;
A timeless friendship comes alive albeit in a world of silence.

Destiny stopped dead in its tracks!
He and She, joyful and so full of life ………….

• Published in The Hans India Daily on Sunday, the 14th June, 2015. Thanks to Atreya Sarma for presenting my poem. This was also appreciated by Estrade e-zine's writers' club at British Council Library. Thanks to you all for the kind words:-)

 

 

 

Bewitched {Revathi Raj Iyer}

The majestic mountains loomed large, as if supported by the seamless ocean;
The tiny houses neatly stacked, as if a row of cards;
The clouds dispersed in an array, as if gently blown by the wind;
The sun shone radiantly, as if a veil lifted off a beautiful bride;
The slight drizzle that sprayed, as if the aftermath of a heavy downpour.

The little girl waited and looked at the skies;
Oh! It then emerged out of the mountains;
Splash of vivid colours, as if enveloping the skies;
Reflecting in the ocean, as if intermingling with the orange rays cast by the sun;
What an unabashed display of royal splendour!

Bewitched…

The little girl ran as fast as her tiny feet could carry;
Leaving imprints on the wet sand, as if asking the moment to wait;
“Fluff”, she cried out and clapped her hands, with hardly any sound;
The poodle came running to her, as if the girl was in danger;
She pranced until he got close and hugged him tight.

Fluff knew not the beauty, yet looked at the sky;
She could not see the beauty, yet looked at the sky;
Both bewitched !!

• Published in yourstoryclub on 27th May, 2014. Thanks:-)

http://yourstoryclub.com/poetry-and-poem/poem-bewitched-silent-voice/



 

An evening to remember {Revathi Raj Iyer}

An evening to remember

 

Her eyes darted like a frightened deer;
Twinkling blue eye balls as if two tiny stars;
Scouring the bay front frantically;
as she waited for her dear one and only...

Tarsha was proud, bold and ruthless;
Killer looks, lovely gait, women hated her;
She knew this and couldn’t care less;
as she waited for her dear one and only...

Tarsha stood motionless, as she enjoyed her last smoke;
Her smoky eyes searched desperately;
Her mind raced, heart pounded;
Will he or will he not? she mused;
as she waited for her dear one and only...

The Limousine came to a halt, a man in white took a bow;
Tarsha saw the shiny shoes, there stood her dear one and only;
She could not see his face well hidden by a hat;
Was it deliberate she wondered?

Her heart missed a beat, as she saw her hero walk towards her;
Tarsha’s eyes lit up, her heart swelled with pride;
as she stubbed her cigar and ran towards him, straight into his arms

Her son, her dear one and only beloved little master;
For whom she had struggled, determined to make him ‘the man';
Her dream had come true, the smile lasted forever;

Oh yes! She was free now and ever;
This was an evening to remember...

• Published in Woman's Era 2nd fortnight of December, 2014. Thank You :-)

http://www.readwhere.com/read/397649/Womans-Era/December-Second-2014#dual/1/1

 

 

 



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