Friendship in the 2020s

 

To misquote the basis of the Anna Karenina principle : good friendships are all alike; every bad friendship is bad in its own way.

I cannot help but feel a significant shift in the nature of friendships over the years. I am not referring to the manner in which our approach towards these relationships changes as we grow older. That change is natural enough, and therefore, inevitable. Nor am I willing to subscribe to the increasingly common opinion of dystopians who blame the apparent decline in the quality of friendships on social media, which in fact, if used wisely, ends up saving many acquaintances which may otherwise sink into oblivion. Social media is no more a novelty than the telephone was, when it was first introduced to human societies largely dependent on letter writing. Socrates is said to have considered even books (the emerging breakthrough technology of his times) or rather the written word on paper, a threat to human memory. 

In this context, I believe social media is merely a tool and though it may have minor influences, it is not the prinicipal force that decides the nature of human interactions. If one has the propensity to be intolerant, judgemental or abusive, one is going to be so, no matter what means are employed to convey those sentiments.

I remember reading somewhere that Aristotle defined three types of friendship, based on utility, pleasure and virtue. And it is plain enough that the third kind is the ideal, value-adding one to seek. It is plainer still, that in present times, the first and second types are more prevalent as allies are now more sought after than friends. But no, that is not the bone I have in mind to pick with time. I understand that the presence of all three kinds of friendship is essential for human lives to function, and as long as there is an underlying feeling of goodwill, or at least, a lack of wilful malice, I do not mind how or why the connection begins or exists. It is rather the amount of work that goes into maintaining it that I find bothersome.

According to me, once the role of a person in one's life gets stamped as that of a friend, or whatever connection is shared with that person is cemented as being a friendship, then it can have only one meaning - that they wish each other well, that there is an unspoken agreement of eternal benevolence between them and that this mutual amity is not subject to sudden highs and lows based on mere trifles. It is understood that though distance, time and changing circumstances may affect the frequency of communication and the extent of one friend's involvement in the everyday affairs of the other, it cannot have any effect on the basic, underlying feeling of goodwill.

But I find that it is not so in many cases. I find that friendship, these days, comes with more minutely detailed terms and clauses than a rental agreement, and the slightest violation of any of them throws cold water on everything. The result is a connection as capricious as the waves of a turbulent sea, and so volatile that its status at any given time can be understood only if it is reported like the stock market.

Here are some of the silliest and most immatured of the terms and conditions that, through my eyes, with different people over the years, "this agreement has witnesseth": 

The party of the first part, hereinafter referred to as 'Friend1', shall remain on cordial terms with the party of the second part, hereinafter referred to as 'Friend2', if and only if -

1. Friend2 shall always give top priority and preference to Friend1 alone, and shall not consider any other companion to be as close or as valuable as Friend1, or seem to find their company equally (if not more) enjoyable.

Addendum : This stipulation may be eased a little bit if the three of them constitute a trio, but even then, Friend2 shall never spend time with the third party longer, or more frequently than with Friend1.

2. Friend2 shall keep Friend1 informed of every single detail about himself/herself, even if it relates to those aspects of life that Friend2 may choose to keep private, or may find difficult, unpleasant or awkward to discuss. Friend2 shall not show reluctance to disclose all, regardless of the extent of impertinence, ungenerous curiosity or indelicacy that is betrayed by the prying questions of Friend1.

3. Friend2 shall answer every call and reply to every message sent by Friend1 immediately, and never fail to attend any social occasion to which Friend1 has extended an invitation, irrespective of the urgency or complexity of the situation in which Friend2 may be caught up at the moment.

4. Friend2 shall never, God forbid, forget any special date pertaining to Friend1 due to absence of mind. Friend2 may be a genuine well-wisher who, in general, always has true kindness and blessings for the welfare of Friend1 at heart, no matter what date is shown in the calendar. But that shall not count. It shall mean nothing in front of the greetings/wishes that Friend1 actually received on that particular date, most of which may have been sent by other contacts as a mere formality, largely because they possess a digital reminder technology that works superbly.

5. If Friend2 is a parent, and Friend1 is also a parent to a kid of the same age group,  Friend2's kid shall not win any exceptional accolades or prizes, especially in something in which both children participated.

Addendum : Inspite of having this bad example in front of them, the kids must somehow magically manage to grow up into great team players having qualities of excellent sportsmanship.

6. Friend2 shall not always seem to have a completely contented, positive and grateful attitude towards life or have nothing to complain about. He/she shall be able to regale Friend1 with lamentations about some problem or the other, or dissatisfaction with somebody or the other (preferably a mutual friend).

7. Following a bout of Friend1's vociferous bellyaching, even if Friend1 is being unreasonable, pettish or entirely mistaken, Friend2 shall not have the option of voicing his/her true opinion that the former is wrong, however gentle, well-intentioned or sincere may be the manner in which it is done.

Well, there it is. Considering all of which makes me feel supremely thankful and lucky for each of those highly valued and true friends who forms an important part of my life. In their absence, I would probably have been reduced to sift through a myriad of bewildering or ridiculous connections which serve only to exhaust one's energy; or probably have been left to seek the help of some friendship app which would have prompted me to type in a search bar -
"looking for a great friend, a true comrade with whom one looks forward to spending time, the conversations always beginning as if there were no gaps between them, the time spent in witty repartee, laughing (not derisively behind the back at a third person, but together as a team of mutual supporters seeing the humour in the challenges of their everyday lives), exhibiting complete solidarity and acceptance towards each other, leaving one feeling thoroughly refreshed, light hearted, comforted and energized"
- and the app would have probably froze in a deadlock, unable to find a match in the real world, or would have simply resorted to the fictitious world and displayed -
"Congratulations! 1 match found. Your ideal friend is, the Marvellous Mrs. Maisel! "

No stand and stare. Only like and share - Musings on a train

A slow reminiscent smile steals over my face as I walk briskly along the platform, lugging my suitcase. My mind is flooded with memories of the days when the station was still called Madras Central.

The memories are so vivid, I can almost smell the tamarind rice my mother used to hand over to me while I sat cross-legged in the window seat with a book on my lap. I marvel at the superpowers with which our  mothers and aunts managed to pack and push around a miniature canteen, complete with all the paraphernalia, no matter how short or long the journey. We seem to have always travelled without ever relying on the expectation of any external provision of amenities and to have roamed about like tortoises with our own self-sufficient little habitat strapped right on to our backs.

And oh, the food! Lemon rice, chapatis with tomato thokku, idlies with generous coats of molagai podi seeping through their pores - dishes that lasted long and tasted better with time. They were always accompanied by those simple potato wafers we used to feast on, before chips in general became glamorous - back when all packets used to be transparent, brimming to the top with flavourful chips that actually tasted like potatoes, as opposed to the puffed up air cushions piled up in supermarkets nowadays. (You get lured by their bright colours into buying one, only to open it and  have a tornado of nitrogen blow past your face as you peep into its dark abyss with one eye closed, while you grope around your pockets, get hold of a magnifying glass and finally spot the chips lurking at the bottom. You think to yourself "no, how could this possibly be a half eaten packet when I just opened the seal?" as you munch on the little corrugated discs that, for their taste, may as well be malleable plastics covered with spices.) 

By the time these ramblings drift past my subconscious, I have settled into a seat. It is vacation time in schools and there are quite a lot of kids coming aboard. I fondly recollect how, as a child, the joy of train journeys used to get doubled when other families with children were present. Once the adults had got a little acquainted and had aided the kids in breaking the ice by asking and answering questions on their behalf about their school and class, the inhibitions used to gradually melt away and after a while only merriment prevailed as the children played, chatted and shared food with each other. Guessing the name of the next station, memorising and reciting in order the names of those already gone by, hollering everytime the train enters a tunnel, climbing on different berths to pretend to be in different houses, antakshari, word games.. the list of things to do on a train used to be so creative. However fleeting train friendships can prove to be, they do form a part of some chapter of our life experiences stowed away in the recesses of our minds. 

Now, there is a seemingly quiet and diffident young fellow sitting across from me, impatiently drumming his fingers on the seat. As I try to catch his eyes in order to greet him, he diligently avoids my gaze and looks as if he is desperately waiting for something. To this end, he keeps repeatedly petitioning his grandfather by pulling at his sleeve and planting hurried whispers in the latter's ear. I understand they are by themselves, and am in the middle of offering my assistance to the kind looking grandfather, when two more kids thunderously tumble in with their parents.

Amidst the clamour, we adults manage to throw in some quick hellos. Remembering my childhood and to what extent the window seat had always been coveted, I sit fully expecting a war to break out any moment now, over the only empty one available. I wonder if the shy grandson will fight his corner when it comes to it. 

A war does break out, and with a knowing  'here-we-go' smile, I glance at the squabbling siblings, only to have my smile replaced with a quiet 'oh!' as I realise that they are rowing over the single unused electrical socket above the window. It turns out that each is in dire need of recharging their personal Tab. 

After some intense bickering, their mother finally steps in and gives the verdict - as the brother is in 10th standard, he may have a greater need for it and gets to use it first . The sister, though unconvinced that a board exam at the end of the year gives anybody the right to use a socket first, detects the sinister tone in her mother's voice and evidently deeming it unwise to push it any further, storms off in a huff and settles with her device on an upper berth. The board exam candidate, with all possible smugness, gets comfortable near the window and soon, computer game sounds reach my ears.

Meanwhile, the elderly gentleman, having arranged his things, offers his grandson a snack and tries to engage him in noticing the names of the stations whizzing past outside. I look at the kid hoping that he finally got what he was waiting for. But he brushes the snacks aside and continues to coax his grandpa, who finally relents and hands him the iPad from his backpack. The kid grabs it, turns to sit facing the back of his seat and is soon oblivious to his surroundings.

It is twilight and a light rain starts pattering on the windows. The train temporarily halts near a beautiful pond covered with water lilies, reeds swaying in the breeze and ducks gliding across the surface. The hues of sunset reflected on the rippled surface of the water together with the rain and surrounding verdure completely mesmerise me. The train starts moving, chugging past distant hills and numerous fields each in its own unique shade of green. When viewed through the raindrops  rolling down the glass, they look like a crayon coloured chess board of parallelograms. It is a sort of meditation in itself to sit and stare out the window of a moving train. How many hours of our childhood have been spent in this manner! It has always had a decidedly therapeutic effect on my mind, and when the train picks up speed and it has grown darker, I peel my eyes off from the outside view with a satisfied sigh. 

But the scene reflected on the glass windows from within shows an indifferent compartment - the grandson on YouTube, the parents glued to their own devices, the now reconciled siblings both on the upper berth playing an online multiplayer game.. 

Sorry, Nature. It's not that we don't have time to stand and stare, we no longer want to. While the woods are lovely, dark and deep, we have notifications that beep, and loads to troll before we sleep, and much to forward before we sleep..

10 comfort reads to turn to after Jane Austen

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that an Austenite who has lost count of the number of rereads, must be in want of an alternative source of comfort.

I write 'comfort', as that is the foremost sentiment, the most prominent and defining feeling I experience while reading her novels. Anyone with an affinity for the classics would vouchsafe his or her love for a hundred different works. But when it comes to the question of the particular set of books to which you instinctively and compulsively reach out while facing adversities, Austen staples have always been my go-to comfort reads.

This is also precisely the reason for the disapprobatory glance I steal at anyone who brushes the likes of Pride and Prejudice or Sense and Sensibility aside by categorising them as mere commonplace stories of romance. In order to truly and fully appreciate an Austen novel, you need to be able to constantly read between the lines, as, in my opinion, subtlety is what governs her writing.

Those of us who know to peel past the superficies of the main plotline (and the many following layers of implied hidden pointers to the psyche of the characters) alone, can unearth the core, where the author rewards us with her really intended message, neatly wrapped with a surreptitious wink and tongue firmly lodged in cheek.

If this mixture of delicate irony and intelligent humour is not a restorative, then I am at a loss as to what is. I believe that it is the presence of these aspects in her writing that forms the main reason for the widespread popularity of her works, combined with the highly realistic nature of the characters and circumstances she creates and the positive assurance of a happy ending. On top of that, every reread proves to be a veritable turn of the kaleidoscope that brings out something new which slipped away unnoticed the last time.

Nonetheless, if you are an Austenite in the mood for something really out of (but not too far away) from the box, you may find enjoyment in some of the below titles, all of which can be easily found online.
(Expand title to read more)

Agnes Grey by Anne Brontë

Written in first person narrative, this is a coming of age story which follows the life of Agnes, the younger of the two daughters of a country minister. Theirs is a loving, idealistic household, with the sisters living in perfect harmony, respecting and cherishing their parents, but with little knowledge of the outside world, and with everyone being very protective of young Agnes, still seeing her as a child. 

But when misfortune strikes, her father loses his health and the family runs into debt, Agnes, eager to venture out into the world, determined to prove herself and full of the ardour of inexperienced youth, leaves her home for the first time to earn by becoming a governess in a family belonging to the English gentry.

The story illustrates in detail, the cantankerous masters and conceited mistresses who abuse their power, and their spoilt, stubborn and vicious wards. She meets and falls in love with a curate, Mr. Edward Weston, who is more of an Edmund Bertram than an Edward Rochester. The book deals with themes of morality, virtue, empathy, sense of duty, humiliation and oppression.

Yes, I get the irony of mentioning a book by one of the Brontë sisters as the first on the list, given how Charlotte Brontë had always been pitted against Austen, and as a result, had had some scathing remarks to make on Austen's writing. That said, this book does not read like a Brontë at all. It is in quite a different style from, say, Wuthering Heights which screams Brontë all over. It does not have the highly inflammable spontaneity, extremely vivid descriptions, overtly dramatic events or gothic elements that are characteristic to most Brontë books.

Instead, it stays deliberately and resolutely rooted in plain reality (almost as if the author is wilfully keeping a check and refusing to allow her mind to fly away into a fantasy). This must largely be due to the fact that the story is mostly autobiographical - Anne Brontë based it all on her own life experiences, drawing heavily from her own trials as a governess.

Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery

This is the sunniest pick-me-up book you could have by your side. Although technically considered to be a children's classic, it is guaranteed to put a smile on any reader's face, no matter what age. It was published in 1908, and is set in the small fictional town of Avonlea, in Prince Edward Island, Canada.

Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert are siblings in their fifties and sixties, living a quiet, contented, self-sufficient, dutiful and mostly secluded life, in their eponymous farm, Green Gables. They decide to adopt a boy of around eleven years of age from an orphan asylum in Nova Scotia. He is to be given an education and trained to help Matthew in the farm. Through some miscommunication, the orphanage sends the eleven year old, red haired, freckled little waif - Anne Shirley.

A whole book could be written on her vivacious, spirited, intelligent and magnetic persona alone. She is, to me, one of the most impactful fictional characters ever imagined, alongside the likes of Elizabeth Bennett, Sherlock Holmes, Severus Snape, Edmond Dantès and... the Dowager Countess of Grantham!

Having grown up without ever belonging to a guardian to care for and guide her, and therefore having been completely free to exercise her extraordinary vitality, gumption, imagination and romanticism unencumbered by parental instruction, Anne is often given to flights of daydreaming and abstraction of mind. The intensity of her emotions leads her to attach undue significance to otherwise run-of-the-mill matters. Her strong sensibilities and her need for refinement in every situation and every mundane expression, will make even Marianne Dashwood sit up and take notice.

The otherwise painfully shy and reserved Matthew is instantly charmed by Anne and develops a tender, deep affection for her, becoming her first "kindred spirit" in her new life. The prim, proper, stiffly starched and ironed Marilla, who is as tightly wound as the hard knot of a bun she maintains on her head, takes Anne completely under her charge and tries to stifle and contain any rush of 'unwanted' emotions or her hidden wry sense of humour, with equal fervour.

This book is the first of many (many) Anne Shirley related books to follow and stays with Anne till she is thirteen, by which time Green Gables is her established home and she has come to mean the world to a much softened Marilla.

Evelina by Frances Burney

Every writer is born a reader. So which author did Jane Austen read herself? This list would be incomplete without a title from the hands of Frances Burney, who was Austen's precursor, and seemed to have largely inspired and influenced her works.

Evelina is an epistolary novel which unfolds mainly through the letters exchanged between Evelina Anville and her guardian Reverend Arthur Villars. Years earlier, Caroline, a naive but well meaning young woman and daughter of Madame Duval, had eloped and secretly married Sir John Belmont, a dissipated, careless and irresponsible libertine who had later denied the marriage, thereby destroying Caroline's reputation. Madame Duval, a vulgar, loud, stubborn, volatile and ill-bred woman, who was born English, but pretends to be French, had dissolved all connection with her daughter. Caroline had sought refuge and had been offered a home by Reverend Villars, who also became the guardian of Caroline's daughter Evelina after the death of her mother.

Evelina has now grown into a beautiful, artless, kind, innocent and refined young woman. There is a genuinely fond mutual attachment between her and her guardian, who is her guide and confidante. When he learns that Madame Duval intends to return to England to claim Evelina as her relation, he sends Evelina on an extended stay to Lady Howard's home, fearing that a connection with Madame Duval may spoil his ward's future. While there, Evelina writes to him, expressing an earnest wish to accompany the family of Lady Howard's daughter, the Mirvans, to London on a short trip. Villars consents to the plan inspite of all his misgivings, and with great hesitation, as he fears Evelina's naivety and the "obscurity of her birth and situation, makes her liable to a thousand disagreeable adventures".

Evelina is totally unacquainted with London society, and ends up in a number of awkward situations while committing many social faux pas. She meets several gentlemen including Lord Orville and Sir Clement Willoughby. Lord Orville, who is a charming, generous and extremely well-mannered peer, a thorough gentleman (a veritable Mr. Knightley) serves as Evelina's love interest. Sir Clement not only shares his name, but also his character with Willoughby of Sense and Sensibility who was apparently named after him. While he tries to take advantage of Evelina's inexperience, Lord Orville continually tries to protect and guide her as much as is in his power to do so without being particularly overbearing.

As Evelina and her party accidentally run into Madame Duval, she is forced to spend more time in the company of her grandmother and the coarse and unrefined Branghtons, who are (unfortunately) her extended family. While in their company and in the most painfully embarrassing circumstances, she keeps running into Lord Orville, and assumes that a man like Lord Orville would want nothing to do with her and that there is an unsurpassable gulf between them. After many plot twists and the entry of surprising new characters, and the return of a much altered and remorseful Sir John, everything is finally tied up with a neat little bow.

This book is a great example of the influence of Burney's writing style, wit, social satire and the use of dialogue to illustrate characters, on the works of Jane Austen (although Burney is not so mellow as Austen in writing about prevalent crass and crude societal behaviour, and does not shy away from painting a vividly detailed canvas of shocking situations).

Thank You, Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse

"He spoke most highly of you.

Really?

Oh, yes, he thinks a lot of you.
I remember his very words.
'Mr Wooster, miss,' he said, 'is, perhaps,
mentally somewhat negligible,
but he has a heart of gold.'"

One cannot be a complete Austen aficionado without also having an affinity to humour, with which she was always as liberal as children are with sprinkles on a dessert. Her novels are garnished here and there with chuckle-invoking character traits or situations, albeit subtle and gentle.

So it naturally follows that Austen fans may very well turn out to be admirers of comedy writing. If they do, they cannot put themselves into abler hands than P.G. Wodehouse. While all of his books and short stories are gold, Thank you, Jeeves is my top favourite. And for those of us who turn to comedy on paper for refreshment when overwhelmed with reality, it cannot get better than this. It makes the reader literally out of breath with laughter. This is one of many works featuring the popular Wooster-Jeeves duo, set in and written in the language of, pre-World War I England of the Edwardian era, in Wodehouse's spontaneous and charming style, with his hilariously assembled similes, and his unique narratives made of immaculate words meticulously arranged to read like Bach's Prelude in C Major, flowing as smoothly and effortlessly as butter on a hot pan.

For the uninitiated, Bertie Wooster is a well-intentioned, kind hearted gentleman in his twenties, belonging to that set of the idle rich that lives with more style than substance. Though not a very witty, shining, worldly character, he is lovable, naive, loyal and decent. He is always ready to jump to the aid of any of his friends. He has no ambitions, and is perfectly "content just to exist beautifully", taking pleasure from the little things of everyday life, like his morning tea or playing with rubber ducks in his bath. He is quite broadminded and not at all snobbish, and takes delight in the company of people belonging to a wide variety of social standing. Jeeves, Bertie's valet, is a prim and proper man of acute brilliance and taste, a cross between Charles Carson and Sherlock Holmes. He glides in and out with "an expression of quiet intelligence combined with a feudal desire to oblige". He goes above and beyond his required duties to help Bertie out of troublesome tangles, difficult situations or dealing with terrifying aunts. He is repeatedly approached for assistance by Bertie's friends too, and Bertie is always openly and highly appreciative of him, considering him less a valet, more a "Mayfair consultant".

This story begins with Jeeves having had enough of Bertie's latest fad of persistent playing of the banjolele, which Bertie stubbornly refuses to give up, even after complaints from neighbours. Jeeves, more out of pouting annoyance than actual wish, leaves Bertie's employment and gets immediately swept away by Bertie's old school chum Lord "Chuffy" Chuffnell, to work for him at Chuffnell Hall. Chuffy has fallen in love with Pauline Stoker, who was once Bertie's fiancé. But he is too hesitant to propose to her and wants to first upgrade his finances and have more to offer, by selling his manor to Pauline's father. Bertie gets mixed up in this countryside scene when he goes to stay in one of Chuffy's cottages to be able to freely play the banjolele. He learns that Sir Roderick Glossop, the "loony doctor" who has had a hand in the breaking up of his relationship with Pauline, is now in pursuit of Chuffy's aunt, the Dowager Lady Chuffnell.

What follows is a series of delightfully funny mix-ups, with Bertie planning to pretend to kiss Pauline in front of Chuffy in order to kindle jealousy and hasten Chuffy to propose, the act being witnessed instead by Pauline's father, a tiff between Pauline's brother Dwight and Chuffy's cousin Seabury causing Mr. Stoker to break the deal with Chuffy and return with his family to his yacht, Jeeves helping Pauline to escape from the yacht, her taking refuge in Bertie's room hoping to get to Chuffy, who happens to drop by himself and mistakes their intentions, and Mr. Stoker meaning to hold Bertie prisoner in his yacht to force him into marrying Pauline, resulting in Bertie trying to escape with boot polish in his face and spend some hilariously written hours in search of butter to wipe it off. Everything ends well, and most importantly, Jeeves returns to Bertie.

This book can put you in the mood to say, as Bertie once did, "I marmaladed a slice of toast with something of a flourish and I don't suppose I have ever come much closer to saying 'Tra la la' as I did the lathering for I was feeling in mid season form this morning."

Middlemarch by George Eliot (Mary Anne Evans)

This is not exactly a "happy" book or a breezy read. But readers who like that aspect of Austen novels which is to do with the study of human nature and realism, may find enjoyment in the in-depth analysis of the well-crafted characters beautifully presented in this book.

The narrative does not have a specific protagonist, instead, it is like a chronicle of the happenings in the fictitious small town of Middlemarch, set in the early 1830s. It follows four different parallel storylines, deftly interwoven from time to time - the marriage and subsequent changes in the life of the idealistic Dorothea Brooke, the rise and fall of the career of the highly talented and ambitious doctor Tertius Lydgate, the relationship of Fred Vincy and Mary Garth, the ignominy of selfish and wealthy banker Bulstrode.

Dorothea is an extremely pious and righteous young woman with high moral and philanthropic ideals and a strong urge to lead a life devoted to the sacrifice of oneself and one's wealth for the good of humanity. Against the advice and misgivings of everybody around her, she chooses to marry the 45-year-old, ugly, "dry", stilted and selfish Rev. Edward Casaubon, hoping to put her life to good scholarly use by helping him in his lifelong great work of theology - The Key to All Mythologies. He means to marry her only because she seems submissive and idolizing enough, and he is annoyed later when he discovers the firmness of her strong-willed nature, and suspects that she has got an inkling of the fruitlessness of his endeavour, as he cannot read German, and is unable to keep up with the current developments in theology. He grows bitter and jealous of the good understanding between Dorothea and his cousin Will Ladislaw, but inspite of his will stating that Dorothea will lose all his property if she ever marries Ladislaw, she has her happy ending with Ladislaw after the death of her husband.

Lydgate is an intelligent doctor who has bright ideas and formulated great plans to modernise and reform medical practices in the country, being very passionate about his chosen field. He makes the grave mistake of marrying Rosamond Vincy, a vain, superficial young lady who is governed by pure self-interest. She fancies herself to be in love with him as he is handsome and known to be of good birth, her sole motive in life being marriage which will raise her social status and allow her to live a life of luxury and style among the aristocrats. Lydgate tries to please her and ends up in deep debt and is forced to leave Middlemarch.

Mary Garth, a sensible, plain, good hearted young woman is in love with her childhood companion Fred Vincy, a well-meaning young man who is devoted to her and is sincerely attached to her family and interested in its welfare. But being a spendthrift, he ends up becoming the sole cause of her father's financial problems and debt. This pains him, brings about a thorough change in his ways and through constant effort he gains the respect and the hand of his beloved.

Bulstrode, Fred's uncle, is a self-proclaimed devout protestant who is supposedly working to advance the welfare of the community, but in reality is a ruthless, two-faced man with a dark secret in his past, which returns to bite him in the form of John Raffles who blackmails him. Raffles falls ill and is in the charge of Bulstrode who wilfully disregards Lydgate's instructions and causes the man's death. But truth somehow leaks through Middlemarch society and Bulstrode quits shamefully.

North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell

This is, in its core, Pride & Prejudice set in the eye of the storm of the Industrial Revolution. The title, originally suggested by Dickens, is apropos to the journey (both literal and metaphorical) of the protagonist Margaret Hale - from an elegant London drawing room full of intellectual vacuity; through the traditional, rural South with its landed gentry and tenant farmers, full of verdant vastness; to the modern, industrial, smoky North with its newly rich social climbers and toiling labourers, full of verve, if not verdure.

Margaret Hale, eighteen, has been living with her mother's sister in the fashionable upper-class society of Victorian London. Following her cousin's marriage, she returns to her own beloved home in a country parsonage in the south, only to learn that her father has been struggling with religious doubts and does not want to continue as a minister of the Church of England. To avoid social ostracization Mr. Hale decides to move far away to Milton-Northern, an industrial town full of cotton-mills, and become a private tutor to John Thornton, the young, rich, self-made manufacturer and owner of Marlborough Mills.

Thornton has a very forceful and resolute personality which conceals a nature capable of warmth and generosity when called for. His immovable ideas and beliefs are owing to the fact that he lost his father when he was quite young and has had to fend for himself providing for his mother and sister, and meticulously working his way up to prominence. This leads him to find the character of those unable to do likewise, wanting in essentials. Margaret, having received her education among the fashionable, has inherently elegant manners and a very dignified deportment that comes across as haughty in the eyes of Thornton, even though he admires her beauty. Margaret, meanwhile, resents his seemingly cold and patronizing approach to the master-labourer relationship although she admires his rise from poverty. The turning point happens when the antagonism simmering below the surface of the class division erupts as a workers' strike, during which Margaret gets injured while trying to shield Thornton from an angry mob.

As Margaret delves deeper into the lives of the working class, making friends among them, she comes to better understand and appreciate the complexity governing industrial politics. Thornton learns to evaluate and adjust his beliefs and reaches out to individuals of the working class to exchange ideas and treat them as intelligent beings.

The narrative deals with themes of power, questioning established customs and rising against authority. It is full of poignant moments and meaningful dialogues. Margaret Hale is as outspoken and fearless in stating her opinions as Elizabeth Bennett; is as sensible as Elinor Dashwood in compartmentalizing her emotions, putting sorrow or mental disturbance aside to focus on the practicality of the duty at hand; and is as quietly and unobtrusively efficient as Anne Elliot in managing affairs.

In short, this is one of those books where you close the last page with a satisfied sigh and feel unable to get yourself to open another right away, as you are still reeling from inertia.

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Set in Massachusetts in the 1860s, this simply and beautifully written book is an honest, realistic and warm coming-of-age novel that has the power to heal a careworn mind, with the balance it manages to strike between flouting conventions, refusing to give up one's true essence and sacrificing self by adjusting and prioritising interests in order to achieve higher goals like the welfare of family and loved ones. Readers who derive comfort from the portrayal of strong female friendship in literature may find ample joy in the life story of the March sisters. Austenites who have relished the true friendship of Jane and Elizabeth Bennett, will certainly love the similar bond shared by Jo and Beth March. (I write 'friendship' and not just sibling love, as I do not believe the strength of the affection between these characters had only to do with blood relation - Elizabeth may have loved Lydia, Kitty and Mary because she had to, but she loved Jane for being, well, Jane.)

During the American Civil War, Mr. March volunteers to serve in the Union army as a chaplain, leaving his wife and four daughters at home - gentle, traditionally 'good' Meg, tomboy Jo, timid, angelic Beth and vain, manipulative Amy. The narrative is in two parts. The first follows their life events over the course of a year with the sisters forming a close friendship with Laurie, the grandson of their wealthy neighbour Mr.Laurence, Laurie and his tutor Mr. Brooke becoming a fixture at their home, and Mr. Laurence becoming a father figure to them. The girls are left on their own when their father falls ill and their mother travels to Washington D.C. to take care of him, aided by Mr. Brooke. Beth falls ill with scarlet fever, but recovers, and the first part ends with their parents returned home, and Meg engaged to be married to Mr. Brooke.

Part II deals with Meg's married life and Jo's departure to New York to pursue writing where she meets the steady and kind German professor Friedrich Bhaer who is her love interest. Following the heart-rending death of Beth, Laurie, who was earlier infatuated with Jo, ends up falling in love with Amy.

The character of Jo is extremely refreshing, considering the kind of stereotypical heroines of that time period. She seems to have been deliberately created to break every single feminine prototype. She is fiercely independent, genuine, quick to speak her mind and full of rebelliousness. Her fiesty impetuousness and short temper are flaws that make her more real, and lovable. Her choice of partner especially avoids conforming to the romantic ideals of the time. Instead of swooning over Laurie just because he has traits similar to hers (Laurie shares her passionate nature, struggles with being 'manly enough' to suit his grandfather while Jo struggles with being 'ladylike' and feminine enough for the world), Jo makes a sensible decision regarding her future by accepting Friedrich who is older and seemingly unsuited for her, but actually has a nature to exactly compliment, soften and nurture hers - much like Colonel Brandon and Marianne.

It is a feel good book with wholesome characters having infinitely more substance than the spineless "heroines" lurking inside some young adult fictions nowadays.

Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

“There was a long hard time
when I kept far from me the remembrance
of what I had thrown away when
I was quite ignorant of its worth.”

Charles Dickens needs no introduction. He was such a prolific and influential writer that he has an official adjective named after him. Of all his novels, Great Expectations comes closest to a comfort read. Although his style is usually broadly classified as satirical social commentary, this book is a deep, meandering, intricate and powerful work that encompasses almost all literary genres from satirical humour to gothic romance. Outwardly a bildungsroman, in its depths it is a wholesome book that is poignant, stirring, thrilling and thought-provoking, all at the same time.

Pip, the protagonist, is both the narrator and the main actor. The author beautifully distinguishes the mature voice of the older Pip telling his own story with much more perspective, from the emotions and mental state of the younger Pip while the events of his life are in progress. He is an orphan, with innate kindness and goodness, but misled by his romanticism and attraction to sophistication. He is brought up in the Kent marshes "by hand" by his petty and stern sister Mrs. Joe, who does not think twice before using her cane on both her husband and her brother. Joe Gargery, Pip's brother-in-law and the village blacksmith, is the most touching character of the book. Pip's relationship with him comes a full circle when he initially looks up to him, later becomes repulsed by his unrefined ways, and finally comes to realise that Joe's loyalty and quiet dignity are much higher and valuable endowments than superficial "polished" manners.

The turning points in Pip's life come when he encounters an escaped convict who forces him to steal food and a file from home, and when Pip's taken to help entertain at an old dilapidated manor. It is occupied by an eccentric old maniac called Miss Havisham who, after being jilted at the altar years ago, has since then lived frozen in her wedding dress. He meets and falls in love with Estella, the most ironical, cold-hearted heroine ever written. She has been raised by Miss Havisham as a revenge against men, to be cruel and manipulative towards them. Estella, who embodies Pip's attraction to the upper class, is used badly by Miss Havisham and her future husband, both belonging to that class.

“So, throughout life,
our worst weaknesses and meannesses
are usually committed for the sake
of the people whom we most despise.”

A secret benefactor (who Pip assumes to be Miss Havisham) gives him a large fortune and a gentleman's education in London, where he finds true friendship in Herbert Pocket, another endearing creation of the author. Pip's life becomes like the idle rich for a while and he incurs debts. The author skilfully leads Pip to revelations of shocking truths, hard facts and great personal growth.

“In a word, I was too cowardly to do what I knew to be right,
as I had been too cowardly to avoid doing what I knew to be wrong.”

However much screen adaptations may have tried to sensationalise the work by focusing on its gothic elements and selling it off as a romance, true book lovers who relish and devour literature can never fail to recognise that at its heart, it is a book on morality, abandonment and guilt that places conscience above erudition and sophistication. The comfort in reading the book lies not in its genre or style, but in the intense character development that makes the readers so emotionally invested in its people as the story  progresses, that they cannot help but stick with them and be deeply interested in the outcome of their decisions or actions and how their lives shape out to be, in complete acceptance of whatever end may come - black, white or grey.

The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton

This brilliant novel was written by Wharton following World War I, and is a minutely detailed portrayal of the manners, lifestyle and ways of the inflexible upper-class society of New York City in the 1870s - the society in which she spent her childhood. Although the title is an ironical comment on the not-so-innocent inner workings of the East Coast society during the American Gilded Age, it also seems to carry a feeling of fond reminiscence.

When the narrative begins, young and fashionable lawyer Newland Archer is engaged to be married to the beautiful debutante May Welland who is the picture of well-bred innocence. Archer inwardly beams with complacency and looks forward to being the life guide of a model wife to be enlightened by him. Acceptance by their own social circle and the approval of the upper-class elite is extremely important to members of their set, and considered by them to be even more indispensable than personal happiness. With both of them coming from old wealthy families belonging to the highest social strata, they seem to have a perfect life cut out for them. This rosy status quo is shattered by the entry of Countess Ellen Olenska.

Although she is May's cousin and part of her influential family, she has been raised in the Continent, and has returned to her people seeking solace and a kind reception after suffering through a devastating and neglectful marriage to a malicious Polish count. Ellen wants nothing but a respite for mental healing, but though the Mingott family decides to reintroduce her into society, they are still highly judgemental and scandalized by Ellen's decision to divorce Count Olenska. Archer is given the task of gently persuading her to be content with a separation.

As Archer gets better acquainted with Ellen, he becomes enamoured of her. The stark contrast between Ellen and May, who are polar opposites, hits him with painful clarity. He grows increasingly disenchanted with May, now seeing her for what she really is, an ignorant, artificial product manufactured by mothers and aunts to fit a certain mould of unrealistic purity with monotonously uniform behaviour and completely unoriginal. Ellen embodies everything that is refreshingly lively, spirited, boldly unconventional and exotic. He is sorely tempted to escape a stifling married life of emptiness and dullness with May.

The intense imagery and the complex psychological analysis in this book, presented in the simple but powerfully realistic style of Wharton, makes this work worthy of being read multiple times without losing its enticement.

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett

This book is meant for young readers, but it has an undeniably comforting charm for all ages. Although it begins in a rather bleak atmosphere, once the reader gets past the initial introductory stage, the narrative blossoms like the garden itself.

Ten-year-old Mary Lennox is orphaned by a cholera epidemic in British India and is sent to live in a sprawling Yorkshire country house owned by her maternal uncle, Archibald Craven. He spends most of the year wandering abroad in a state of perpetual depression following the loss of his wife, and avoids the sight of even his son and his estate, as they remind him of her. Misselthwaite Manor is therefore left in limbo and a state of morbid stupor, and entirely under the care of the staff, headed by a robust and unbending Mrs. Medlock. Mary learns about the existence of a secret garden that belonged to the late Mistress Craven, but has been left shut up and abandoned. As Mary's curiosity leads her to the discovery of a way to enter the garden and the existence of a sickly cousin, the young Master Colin Craven, her life begins to change for the better.

The book is rife with symbolism and the garden itself is one of the protagonists. Mary and Colin both share a stubborn, short tempered, surly, difficult and imperious demeanour, which is not their inherent nature, but an unfortunate byproduct of circumstances. Much like the garden, they have not had the nurturing care of a loved one, but have grown wild after being abandoned to be overseen by servants whose duty is restricted to obedience, and not guidance.

The introduction and influence of the Sowerby family in their lives acts as the much needed elixir of water and nutrients to the foliage of their minds. Martha Sowerby, Mary's maid, is the most endearingly soothing character in the novel. Her simple and straightforward rusticity and kindness are like a balm to Mary's scarred childhood. Her sensible, practical approach to all the intricacies of everyday life keeps Mary rooted firmly to the ground. The peace and contentment reigning the lives of the Sowerby family which is governed solely by principles of honesty and hard work is obviously much more enviable than the hollow wealth of the master of Misselthwaite Manor, whose emotionally impoverished life is as barren as the moor on which his house stands.

Martha's brother Dickon, who symbolises the Missel Moor itself, acts as a medium for the transformation of Mary and Colin. Notwithstanding the occasional over-the-top melodrama, there is something immensely satisfying in the way the author brings about the rejuvenation and restoration of both the garden and the lives of the Craven children.

6 ways to get your child to read

To read or not to read - that can never be the question. The habit of reading regularly IS vital. Which is why I think we should never give children the idea that reading is nothing but another hobby. It is not like collecting stamps or playing chess, for us to have the option of not pursuing it if we are not interested. It is like brushing our teeth - we simply cannot be allowed a choice. 

I observe many parents wondering how to get their kids to spend more time reading books. So much so that the complaint "my kid throws away the book in five minutes, nothing but the smartphone or the TV can engage his or her attention" has become as common as "my child does not like vegetables" used to be. 

To all parents with similar worries on their minds, this page offers a list of suggestions that you could try. But before we get into that, I would like to state that I claim no expertise, but only experience, in this area. I am merely sharing some tips that I have followed and benefitted from myself. So here goes:

Begin at the earliest

A child's mind is like a sponge. It will soak up anything you offer it. Why set a limit to its capability based on our estimation of what it can or cannot do? A baby learns to start saying words on its own, does it not? We do not enroll babies in a 'Learn-Your-Mother-Tongue-In-30-Days' online course. Reading, too, should start as early as possible. 

There are books that can be read aloud even to babies, so that they can learn to be soothed by the steady rhythm of our voices, if not by the meaning of the words. There are touch and feel board books that toddlers can handle themselves, without the book getting torn (only getting licked and drooled on quite a lot).

Read at bedtime. Every. Single. Night. 

Read together, or read aloud to them. It can be anything - excerpts from picture books, stories found online, articles, plays, poems or encyclopaedias.  Each day, we can read a couple of chapters of a book and leave it off at a cliffhanger, thereby enticing the kid's curiosity. If possible, we can make it more enjoyable for them by dramatic reading, using voice modulation to get the characters to come alive from the pages.

Keep reading yourself 

We all know children observe and emulate. If they see us frequently engrossed in reading something, even those of them who are the most indifferent to books will, someday, take notice and wonder what it is that keeps engaging our attention so much. If we force a book into their hands while we sit glued to a screen ourselves, it isn't quite fair on them, don't you think?

Be the means through which they are made aware of the joy of losing oneself among the pages of a book. 

Discuss what they have read

If you have not already read the same book, at least give it a glance to understand its object, message, style or important characters. And then talk to the kid about it. You could ask them which part of the story affected them the most, which character is their favourite and the reason for it, how they would have the ending or any other part of the book changed if given the chance. Tell them your views too and let them see that you are very much interested in it yourself (at least feign it, if you don't feel it). 

Respect the kid's taste

Now this is where most of us seem to get on a slippery slope. As parents, it is natural for us to have a preconceived notion of what we feel our children ought to read. It could take great restraint on our part to withold from directing their choice, but we simply have got to swallow it. As long as what they choose is not inappropriate for their age, I think we must let them explore and settle into their own niches. After all, there's got to be some difference made between studying a  textbook and reading for pleasure.

Explore different options

• You could take the kids to spend time in the library where they may be motivated by the sight of other people reading.
• Audio books are a great option as children can listen to them anytime, anywhere, and  even when they refuse to sit and hold a book. 
• Encourage older kids to find reading buddies among their friends and let them read together. They can do this even when they are physically apart, by connecting online through meeting rooms and sharing the same page on the screen (in which they must have all become specialists post COVID anyway). 
• Ask children to role-play a story they have finished reading. 
• Quote from books in everyday life. 

In short, don't let a school textbook be the first book your children read, and make books their friends, not their tasks.

Good luck!

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Vowels are the new Voldemort

Yes, you read that right. Vowels are now  They-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Or so I am given to understand, by most of the text messages I receive. No matter what age group the sender belongs to, nobody seems to be using vowels anymore. 

I can understand people who are totally preoccupied with their online identity doing this. They simply have got no time to waste on typing vowels. They have at least ten social media accounts to maintain simultaneously. Posts of their own to edit and upload, that of others to check, follow, like and 'heart'; several selfies to edit, 'filter', touch up and enhance to an extent that would shock somebody who meets them in person for the first time as they would look nothing like their picture; many comments to write and numerous things to scrutinize and find politically incorrect. 

If they start focusing on proper spelling, they might not be left with any time to spare on other trivia like sleep, a disciplined routine or, God forbid, a few moments of complete idleness and silence. 

But I am surprised and amused at other people following suit. Like those of us who were around in the 80s and knew life before everything became digital, or those belonging to our parents' time. Haven't we grown up with the beauty of fully formed words and complete, grammatically correct sentences? Are we worried about being perceived as too ancient if we wrote properly? Or are we finding everything moving, growing and changing at a dizzying pace that we are desperately scrambling to shorten things wherever possible in order to catch up? What could be the reasonable explanation for us to start dropping the poor Messrs. A, E, I, O and U?

I feel sorry especially for sad 'E', who once enjoyed being the most commonly occurring letter in the language, now in danger of extinction. The others, at least, have a chance. Human egoism will ensure the survival of 'I'. 'U' will enjoy frequent usage as a substitute for 'you'. 'A' will manage to sneak its way into sentences, and everything being always rushed, everybody being always in a hurry will make 'A' confident of the term 'ASAP' never getting old. 'O' has the guarantee of 'LOL' and 'OMG'. But what about our old Mr. E, who has lost the last shred of hope in the word 'e-mail', now that there is no other commonly used form of letter writing and 'mail' has automatically come to mean the electronic one? 

Maybe future humans will not even have the necessity to learn spelling. They will be surrounded by Autocorrects and AI to ensure that they can be as lazy as they like, never having to do anything they are not in the mood for. Maybe they will be shown pieces of text written on paper in whole sentences and lengthy words during museum tours, like we are shown clay tablets, birch barks or papyruses. And they will wonder how we ancient humans belonging to the "slow" era ever had the time to sit and spell out every word.

But I sincerely hope it doesn't happen anytime soon. I still love long messages. When I get a 'sry' from someone, I long to tell them that the fact that there are missing letters is harder for me to forgive than what they are actually apologizing for. Or when they send a 'thx' my way, I long to let them know that I am willing to help them in any way I can, if they will only annex 'anks' in place of the 'x' in exchange. 

thrws my nxt rtcl wll b wrttn n ths wy nd s wll ll th txt mssgs I snd n rspns. 

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PS

Okay, I cannot do this. That was: 

'Otherwise my next article will be written in this way and so will all the text messages I send in response.'

Phew!

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