… I hear a collective sigh of relief. But wait till you see the pictures! (Click here to read the whole post)

So on Thursday 11th evening, I got on the other side of the fence, err, the other side of the mike. Metaphorically of course. I was asked to moderate a “Fresh off the Shelf” discussion among a truly eclectic cast of characters: a Britisher, a TV anchor, a freelance writer, an Italian and a newspaper editor.

That’s, respectively: Melvin Burgess, author of some acclaimed “young adult” novels, Nicholas Dane being his most recent one; Amrita Tripathi, author of the soon-to-be-out novel Broken News; Annie Zaidi, blogger and once Frontline reporter, author of one of the essays in the book India Shining, India Changing; Gioia Guerzoni, editor and translator of the aforesaid India Shining, India Changing into its original Italian edition; and Soumya Bhattacharya, editor at the Hindustan Times and author of the novel If I Could Tell You.

I ran into Soumya a few minutes before we started, and after greeting each other he asked me how my book was doing. I mentioned that it had had a couple of positive reviews, a couple of critical reviews. He promptly warmed the cockles of my heart by saying, in a vehement whisper, four words and four words only: “F**k the reviews!”

(That “**” stands for “uc”). (And sorry, I meant three words and three words only. I’m numerically challenged).

(Click here to read the whole post)

What was it that was so dissatisfying about A Decade in Books, a presentation by Nilanjana Roy followed by a discussion with Anita Roy and Amit Varma? It was a sharp presentation – Ms. Roy went through each year in as much detail as possible, she mentioned plenty of interesting facts about the publishing industry and even offered short analyses and thought-out predictions. But at the end of it, I felt that the whole event had been more concerned with the state of publishing – and how to improve that – than with literature.

It was telling that almost all the books and writers she mentioned were mainstream – good or bad, ‘literary’ or ‘popular’, they were almost all published by the big corporate publishers. It was assumed that what constituted books/literature was what the mainstream publishers published and what the mainstream reviewers and critics commented on; the assumptions too were obviously mainstream – the books nominated for the Booker were considered literary in spite of the fact that for the last many years, the Booker has been giving its prize to entirely unremarkable, ‘realistic’, middlebrow books, many of which are aesthetically still stuck with Flaubert. Such as? Hilary Mantell, Aravind Adiga, Anne Enright, Kiran Desai, Ian McEwan. I think somebody even referred to the Booker as the “citadel of high literature”. Yes, the Booker considers itself that. Should we? (Click here to read the whole post)

In recent times, I have come across so many writer-photographers, who seem to deftly swing one from avatar to another, that I had begun to feel pretty unidimensional. (Since, when did the arts start merging this way?) But that was about to change. I had enrolled for a Photography Workshop by Shirish Karrale and I was going to be a multifaceted artist too. (Click here to read the whole post)

Less than 24 hours before it was to happen, I was volunteered into “being in conversation with” (what a strange expression that is, and yet with what felicity I use it) the singer/songwriter Biddu (the name behind such song standards as “Kung Fu Fighting” and “Aap Jaisa Koi”). The guilty party knows who s/he is, and will remain nameless except to say that s/he shares her/his first name with an actor who played Lawrence of Arabia, and his/her last name with most of the moniker of a Harry Potter school house. (None of Slitheryn, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff).

But if I sound ungrateful, I am not so at all. Really. Thinking about it for a few minutes after the late night phone call, I started getting to like the idea. And then I got a copy of Biddu’s book, “Made in India”, and read over half of it in the hours leading up to the event. It is a charming book, easy to read and like. A TimeOut Mumbai essay described Biddu — admiringly, I think — as having a “penchant for silly similes”, and it’s true, and I’m admiring too. He tosses them out left and right, with the ease of a guest flinging rice at a church wedding (there, I’m doing it too). And they work, because they leave you with a smile and a nod of the head. (Click here to read the whole post)

My fourth year at Kala Ghoda. The roads were buzzing with people, the kurta-clad, jhola-bearing individuals outnumbering the others by about 5:1. Not that I was complaining.

The Kala Ghoda festival is a nine-day long mela for a large section of Mumbai’s population. This year, as most years before it, the district came alive with art installations, pavement galleries, a hundred small kiosks selling quaint knickknacks and hordes of people ambling through the main thoroughfare, pausing every now and then to cast puzzled looks at the installations, or exclaim at the quirky thing they just spotted.

The opening performance this year was by the South African Drum Café, who call themselves South Africa’s premier interactive drumming company.

What is complicated about being the opening act for any event, is that it puts you in the unenviable position of doing three things:

1. Discovering the (unavoidable) technical kinks in the setup
2. Working around them
3. Warming up an audience who for the most part, has just wandered in and has very little idea of what to expect. (Click here to read the whole post)

When I looked at the Kala Ghoda schedule on Saturday night, I read that three bands were playing the next day -The Other People, Dischordian and Full Moon Rising. The first two in the morning and Full Moon Rising in the afternoon. Since these were the only rock music-like bands performing at the festival – apart from Nandu Bhende this Sunday – I was keen to attend the performances. Too lazy to go in the morning, I went for Full Moon Rising’s performance that afternoon. When I got to the amphitheatre – on time – Daniel, who seems to be the sole steady member of the band, was already playing a love song to test the sound. It was conventional stuff and dull at that but it was just the beginning of the show and people around me – including a man who’d cut out the ‘Love’ in ‘I Love Mumbai’ and written ‘hate getting ripped off in’ instead – were tapping their feet, moving a bit so I joined in. It had been a few months since I’d heard live music; I was expectant. Daniel wasn’t dressed in black, he didn’t have an electric guitar; I was optimistic.

But while I was right about Daniel not being of the Devil’s party’s, it turned out that he was of the other party. Not religious perhaps but “repair your own mind for the sake of earthkind” and “…cause in our reach, is an open flight - into a world in which WE design - and NOW is the time…”. With lyrics like “come together right now…” (which is okay) and “we made a world war/we can make world peace” (which is not). (Click here to read the whole post)

After missing out on the festivities for three days, I was eager to make up. As I got off the cab, the Parking Lot-turned-Art Display area beckoned lovingly. But Visual Art would have to wait, I had an appointment with Literature. And, I was late.

On stepping into the intimate gardens of the David Sassoon Library, I saw speakers getting off the stage. So much for trying to make-up!

The launch of Sumit Mullick’s ‘Fairyish’ had just wound up. On the plus side, I got a front row seat for the next session. Turns out, I didn’t have to ‘almost get myself killed’ by sprinting across the street, ‘Fresh off the shelf’ - a discussion by four authors about their most recent books - was a good half-an-hour away and there were hardly any takers for the front row. (Click here to read the whole post)

Nilanjana Roy, who made several appearances on the Literature stage, in Business Standard, on The lure of the local litfest:

Many of us here — writers, publishers and readers — have come to Kala Ghoda post-Jaipur, and we find ourselves easing into the more laidback space, not lamenting the absence of the big-name international stars in the street-circus atmosphere over here. Chetan Bhagat causes a brief flurry and a slight swell in crowds when he makes a pitch in favour of writing that is accessible and that doesn’t intimidate the first-time or insecure reader. But even the Big Bhagat isn’t mobbed the way he was in Jaipur. Which leads Peter Griffin, one of the friends of the festival, to ask: “Will there still be space for festivals like Kala Ghoda.”

I ask local writer Amit Varma, fresh from his Galle Literary Festival experience, what he thinks. “Big festivals can feel a little rushed,” he says, thinking back to his visit to Jaipur as a blogger and reader some years ago. “This is a charming local festival that needn’t aspire to be a JLF: it works for local readers, local writers and serves a different purpose. At the smaller festivals, everyone is drawn together for the love of books and reading. I don’t think it needs to be either/or: why not more Kala Ghodas? Why not a Kanpur festival, or a Vizag festival?”

Spread over nine days, what Kala Ghoda offers is a chance to drop in and pick up on a reading or writing conversation at any time; and it also offers an odd kind of continuity. Three years ago, the poet Adil Jussawalla spoke with passion about the changing ethos of Mumbai; the year after him, Kiran Nagarkar picked up the thread by commenting on the rising culture of intolerance in his city, an intolerance that he felt was alien to the spirit of the city. This year, MS Sathyu departs briefly from his tribute to the late Habib Tanvir to make a point: “This is my Mumbai too. I’m Kannadiga, but I lived here and worked here for years. Cities can never belong to only one section of people.” This is the kind of continuing conversation — or heated debate — you could only have at a city festival, not at a more international festival.

Read the whole article here.

The Kala Ghoda Art Festival 2010 kicked off to a rollicking start on Saturday. After sampling a bit of literature, visual art, music and food through the day, I finally settled on theatre for my final course in the night. The play ‘Dance Like A Man’ was being staged at Horniman Circle at 7.30 p.m.

I’ve attended music events at Horniman Circle before, most of them Kala Ghoda Art Festival events. It is an unconventional setting, a stage in the center of a park. But it works really well, more so for a play than a music concert given the intimate interaction that is possible between audience and performer.

A bench-painting event had been conducted earlier in the evening owing to which all the seating en route to the stage bore ‘Wet Paint’ signboards. It was too dark for photography and I was eager to get to the stage before the play started but I passed some interesting art on the way. (I hope one of us will be able to post photographs soon).

Just as well, I suppose, since we got there just about five minutes before the play began. All the seats were taken so we sat down on the grass and that’s how we watched the entire play. Normally, I would not consider squatting on the ground for a play but like I said, this was an unconventional setting.

The stage and seating area were edged on one side by ‘Lotuses of the Floating World’, an art installation by Sabrina Mascarehas. As I approached the area, I first thought they were diyas floating in a pool. But I soon realized that there is no water body inside the park and the temperature was the uncharacteristic cool of February rather than the heat of a hundred lamps. (Click here to read the whole post)

Confession: I am not a foodie. I have never been interested in trying out new restaurants, nor in making an effort to check out the food typical of places I’ve travelled to. So for me, it was an hour of wonder, listening to a panel discussion on food writing. I will freely also confess, what drew me was that two of the panelists (Nilanjana Roy and Shoba Narayan) have been on panels over the last few weeks discussing my recent book, Roadrunner, with me. (Shoba in Bangalore, Nilanjana in Delhi). And in November, this session’s moderator, Vikram Doctor, moderated me in another discussion. He’s invariably knowledgeable and engaging, which only made this panel more appealing still.

(Click here to read the whole post)

Moderated by Vikram Doctor- featuring Nilanjana Roy, Shoba Narayan and Rushina M Ghildiyal .  

Food writing is sizzling! Across the world the interest and amount of food writing in books, newspapers, magazines, and blogs has been exploding. It is a subject with almost guaranteed reader interest - everyone eats! everyone is hungry! Everyone has opinions on where to get the best vada-pav!

Food writing spans the spectrum from serious academic research on the role of food in societies to food as a way of discovering family histories. Food writing is now less a specialised category, than a style that cuts across genres, so you have food and history, food and science, food and crime fiction, food and romance fiction, food and politics… plus, of course, there are cookbooks!

Vikram Doctor is the Editor - Special Features at the Economic Times, but the features he writes are really excuses to support the two regular columns on food that run in the paper along with other articles on food that come in ET, the Times of India and Times Crest. His main focus is on Indian food and the many meanings it has in society and culture, both in India and the Diaspora.

Actively blogging since 2002, Rushina M. Ghildyal has been a food writer for 6 years and written thousands of articles on gastronomy in reputable international publications. She continues to be a prolific blogger and is currently working on two book projects of her own. In her career she has found the perfect cover for her obsession with all things food and brazenly uses it to legitimise her foodie idiosyncrasies; such as an obsession with getting a perfect bite - every time, shamelessly discussing food with anyone, anywhere, and going to any length to get her hands on new and exotic ingredients! Rushina began as a blogger, but quickly grew into a food writer and today heads her own consultancy company (also called A Perfect Bite). Rushina also spearheads her own consultancy firm. Called ‘A Perfect Bite’, this is a fresh new company, that offers a wide range of turnkey solutions in gastronomy related consultancy to clients in the food publishing, hospitality and restaurant businesses. A strong core team of individuals, led by Rushina specialize in identifying and putting together ensemble casts of experienced, creative professionals to best serve a projects requirements on a project to project basis.

The Kala Ghoda Art Festival 2010 kicked off this morning (yesterday morning, technically, since its past midnight as I’m writing this).

My favorite time during the entire of this annual event (Click here to read the whole post)

Saturday, 06 February 2010
20:00 - 21:00
David Sassoon Library Gardens, Kala Ghoda

What did India and the world read between 2000 and 2010? Boy wizards and vampires may have dominated the bestseller lists, but this was also the decade of Roberto Bolano, the return of the short story and the reworked spy thriller, the graphic novel and the forensic thriller. India’s translators discovered a new readership; pulp fiction in languages apart from English found countrywide fans. Though celebrity memoirs dominated the headlines, three surprising topics–climate change, food ethics and evolutionary biology–held sway over the charts. By the end of the decade, we were also debating how we would read and how reading would change, as ebook readers made an entrance.

A brief presentation celebrating and analysing the Decade of Books will be followed by a discussion between Ms Roy and critics Anita Roy and Sanjay Sipahimalani.

Nilanjana S Roy is a book reviewer, food writer and literary columnist with the Business Standard, and has worked extensively in the worlds of media and publishing. As chief editor from 2007-2009, she was part of the team that started up Tranquebar, a Chennai-and-Delhi based publishing house. She edited A Matter of Taste: The Penguin Book Of Indian Food Writing; some of her short stories have appeared in the Scholastic anthologies of science fiction, horror and fantasy writing for children. Her journalism has appeared in publications from Outlook to Biblio to The Hindu and Le Monde, and can be found online at Akhond of Swat.

Sunday, 07 February 2010
18:30 - 19:30
David Sassoon Library Garden
M G Road, Kala Ghoda

The Kala Ghoda Lecture seeks to set the tone of the festival, to focus on the opportunities and challenges ahead of the community that loves books and reading. The inaugural Lecture was delivered in 2009, by Urvashi Butalia, founder of Zubaan Books.

This year, the very popular author Chetan Bhagat will speak about Reaching Out To New Readers.

Mr Bhagat’s first three books, Five Point Someone (2004), One Night @ the Call Center (2005) and The 3 Mistakes of life (2008), have done just that. They have each sold in the neighbourhood of 700,000 copies, redefining the idea of a bestseller in English. While they continue to fly off the shelves, his latest, 2 States (2009), aims to do even better.

From his website:

Chetan also writes op-ed columns for leading English and Hindi newspapers, focusing on youth and national development based issues. Many of the issues raised by Chetan’s columns have been discussed in Parliament and among the top leadership of the country.
Chetan quit his international investment banking career in 2009, to devote his entire time to writing and make change happen in the country. He lives in Mumbai with his wife Anusha, an ex-classmate from IIMA and his twin boys Shyam and Ishaan.