Savia's Song Sung Blue: a Carmona primer

 It is nearly seven months since we moved to Carmona in Goa. And somehow it has brought me back to books. 

Perhaps it's just a fact of new beginnings. I remember that moving to Pune had reignited a reading and writing spree. But, unlike Pune, Carmona has rapidly introduced me to at least three writers. I've covered one in my last post and remain in close touch with the author, a kind and interesting person. 

Interestingly, it was when I was with him at Rosie's pub, just outside the gate of the complex in which we live, that I found Savia's book. Since I'm now fairly indigent, I made him buy a copy. 

That was months back and, the other day, when I dropped in on him, I saw the book and borrowed it. 

Before I move on to my journey through Song Sung Blue, I have to tell you about the third author that I met here. Jacqueline is from Kenya, married to a man from Vienna and they both play a medley of musical instruments. Jacqueline makes games and books for children and she also takes things like ropes that the sea washes ashore and under her deft fingers they metamorphize into beautiful trinkets. She's made a bunch of tiny books for children 

I do hope I'll be able to do a post about those but am yet to get a chance to flip through them. So let's get back to the book that brings Carmona to life. 

At first flip it brought Marjane Satrapi to mind but, unlike Persepolis or Chicken with Plums, Song Sung Blue is not a graphic novel.

Or is it? From the first page on it is graphic and not merely because it has pictures. The descriptions of events and people leap out from the pages splashing visuals on the mind's eye. 

Song sung blue

Everybody knows one

sang Neil Diamond back in the day. 

But hardly anybody, alas, knows about Savia's Song Sung Blue. I wonder why? 

Diamond croons on

Song sung blue

Every garden grows one

Nope. A Savia sprouts rarely here as anywhere. 

Why, we wonder. when Goa appears to be slightly more favourable to books than many another Indian state? Most vacation places in Goa keep a smattering of books in the reception area. As do the eateries. And there are frequent book events too.

A quick look at the types of books reveals a part of the why. A good many of the books at the hotels and restaurants are left there by tourists from other, mostly European, countries. Most of these tourists come from a certain class. A class whose reading tastes rarely venture outside random detective or romantic fiction. Now and then one can spot a classic or serious work of nonfiction but it's more a then than a now. 

Neil Diamond sings

Song sung blue, weeping like a willow

I soon ended up weeping like a willow as the book rapidly plunged into painful truths of the here and now. Perhaps that's why Song Sung Blue is in the red? 

Me and you are subject to
The blues now and then
But when you take the blues
And make a song
You sing 'em out again

- Daimond's take on dealing with the blues.  

Song Sung Blue is a kind of Carmona primer. 

From the start where we encounter turtles and cobras, we're soon rushing down Carmona roads in a bus, listening to Goan songs. 

It's be a pity to come to Carmona without this book. But, alas, I don't know where you can get a copy. 

  "To order Song Sung Blue, please contact saxtti@gmail.com." says a book review by Augusto Pinto 

Encountering an Author: Aliens in Goa?

 Moving to Goa was much like transitioning to another dimension. Each day brought new encounters and new experiences. One such was meeting Dr Ashok Saxena. 

One morning when I went to the little shop near where we now live, I was introduced to a dapper gentleman with an elegant goatee. And was thrilled to learn that he was a doctor. An orthopaedic surgeon by profession, Ashok turned out to be a man of many interests. That morning I only got a glimpse of one of the many facets of this versatile soul.

He very candidly told me, an utter stranger, that he had written a book - a story about an encounter with an alien. 

Dr Saxena very kindly gave me a preview and I was thus plunged into an exciting world of adventure, scripture and science.

The book has 14 chapters, two appendices, a glossary and a bibliography - all that we must expect given the author is a medical professional. And yet this is a book for the layperson, for the masses so to speak. 

Where the idea of a preface can be such that many tend to skip the section, in this case it is a must read - an essential part of the narrative structure. 

And then there is the first chapter that has the appropriate shock value to get you hooked to the story: I FOUND MY FATHER DEAD ...

After that it is an exciting journey through Europe, from the high Alps to all the famous monuments of the continent and more - all the while keeping the reader glued to the tantalising thread of the story of a human-alien relationship of sorts.   

After consuming this exotic tale, you have the two appendices that are rich in resources and insights. Appendix A covers calculations with explanations while Appendix B takes the reader through concepts  from India's historical past that could possibly relate to science as we now know it. 

All in all, the book is the author's attempt to reach out to the masses to make it easy to engage with the worlds of science and scripture.    

Buy the Book

The Man from Motihari - a need of the hour

The Man from Motihari comes as a need of the hour. The novel speaks in the almost now – we are surrounded by the kind of historical events which form the background of the story. Though set in a small region of one particular nation, such unfortunate happenings are being echoed around the world in our now. In a sense, Abdullah Khan captures this universality by sending his protagonist across the globe in the later part of the story.

The story serves another and much more reasonable function then telling us about these times. I use the word reasonable in the sense of a thing which can be reasoned out and which can thus prove functional. The Man from Motihari wants to write. He writes across all possible challenges of his circumstances. And his foray into this profession so unlikely in his world exposes him to all the steps and tips and traumas of writing. The book thus becomes a valuable guide or manual for those who want to write.

 The value of a book increases with the number of functions which it serves. The Man from Motihari, besides giving us history in the making, and telling us what it takes to be a writer, goes on to offer an anthropology and sociology of Bihari Muslims as well as anthropology and sociology of a section of our youth who seek education for jobs – the community of Indians of a certain age who struggle through bank and civil services exams.

As mentioned, novels with many dimensions sparkle like diamonds with every facet they task themselves to bring to light. So Abdullah Khan has well-honed his work and besides all the robust functions I’ve discussed above, he brings to the reader the clarion call for good quality education especially for girls.

Lest you imagine that since this book is so diverse in what it covers it might be boring, let me hasten to reassure you. It is a most delightful entertainer and a page turner feast. It has all the spicy delight to tickle the Indian palate and enough cosmopolitan garnish to please the epicure from elsewhere.