Here it is!!!!

Between Osama and Carly I have read a few more books about Bill Clinton (Giving), Barrack Obama (Audacity of Hope), Neil Armstrong (A Giant Leap), Einstein and a non-fiction by Nelson Demille (Wildfires). The only one I was close to blog about was Wildfires, it had a strange view on Iraq war and was written with humor.

I like reading biographies  and auto-biographies because people interest me. I picked Carly because I was eyeing it sometime ago and now I had a chance to read it. I wanted to know what would a labeled loser like her have to say? How will she be able to self-portray her public-perceived flaws? How does she make peace with the society that hated her? It does take a lot of courage and perspective. I will also definitely give you my word, along the same lines I will read GWB’s book as soon as he writes(??).

The book was a short one, a quick read. I learnt so much about her and how the media was focusing on her looks and gender instead of her performance. All leaders have to pay a price, Carly paid it to press. While her decision of the HP-Compaq merger was highly criticized, there are a lot who believe it laid the foundations for HP to perform better than Dell after she left HP itself. Sometimes, timing is everything. I don’t know if she was a great leader or not, but she was honest and candid, qualities I admire, which ex-CEOs of TYCO, ENRON, and WORLDCOM and Larry of Oracle don’t possess. Even if she did make a stupid decision, the court itself decided in 2002 it was not based on corruption on her part. She did what she truly believed in.

Some excerpts I liked &/or agree with:

My boss was absolutely right (on not taking a hard job), and it was why I wanted to go. It was brand-new. Every one was trying to figure it out. Maybe I could help. It was chaotic - maybe that would be exciting. It was difficult work - I wanted a challenge. It didn’t bother me that it wasn’t a typical move. I was looking for interesting work where I could make a real difference.

xxxx

That night, after I’d cried long enough, I made a decision. I would not cry again over others’ prejudice. Sure, what people thought or said about me might hurt. What people did to me might hurt as well, but I would not carry their narrow-mindedness or bias as my burden…I would accomplish all I was capable of. I would concentrate on doing what I believed were the right things for the right reasons to the best of my ability. Some, perhaps even many, might believe I couldn’t or shouldn’t , do what I chose. That would be their problem, not mine. They would not wound me again. I had decided once that my life was my own. Now I decided my heart would be my own as well.

…since 1986 I have saved my tears for more important things: my family, the beauty of nature, Beethoven, a dear friend, the goodness of people, their wisdom, their tragedies or their triumphs.

xxxx

I love to watch the sun rise and the sun set. I take comfort in the everyday event and feel wonder knowing that it will never be the same. I love the slower, natural cadence of my life. i love to fall asleep at night and awake when I choose. I love to do something on the spur of the moment…I love to spend a day, as I am today, in the company of children with nothing particular to do and nowhere particular to go.

I believe I have been blessed all my life. I feel blessed today - blessed to have had the opportunities and the experiences…

I read this right after Ramanujan, only because I realized Plano library could finally lend it to me without waitlisting to the 32nd position

I could not believe what was being said about all the terrorists and their Islamic beliefs. One moment they seem to be against Colonialism(UK), next, communism (USSR), and then, capitalism (USA). It conveys that these radicals are angry at everything and everyone. They seem to be upset that USA is taking their oil (which of course they are selling) and flourishing much more than the land it comes from.

At one point Osama seems to be mad at King of Saudi for letting Saddam grow his military, soon he is upset with King for letting USA to use Saudi land to defend against Saddam’s Quwaiti occupation.

The book also portrays him to me as a Don Quixote when he leads a group of Jihadis to fire a ‘few’ shots against an already retreating USSR troop from Afghanistan

Author has mentioned Osama as a psychopath / sociopath, also, a character of utter humility.

SOMEHOW, I cannot believe all that the book depicts. I want to know the other side. Why would a human kill so many other humans? What could cause such hatred? What can be done to avoid this in future? Is all that the author is saying really true? If so, Osama is a stupid. But, he can’t be so stupid. At least his stupididty cannot be the reason for people’s death.

ACTUALLY, I DON’T EVEN WANT TO KNOW!!!

It has been a long time since I blogged on books that awed me, the reason being that when I am in awe, blogging is the last thing on my mind

I came to know of this book thru this blog: http://chennaikaran.blogspot.com/2008/01/visa-master.html

LUCKILY, it was available in Davis Library, unlike the looming towers, which I have not been able to get a hold of for more than the past year, 2007.

In addition, I needed the meditation effect reading brings on me, me, book, me thinks, me reads, me reads, me thinks,…wow!

Author Robert Kanigel has done a great job in detailing the backdrop of Ramanujan’s life. Detailed Indian caste and political system, mathematical series, human psychology, inferences, etc. Job well done, no one else could have done more justice in recreating this past.

All previous times when I read biographies I was inspired and wanted to be the personality I was reading about. Ramanujan - I don’t want to be. I can feel the pain of being a genius in his life.

Look at his cover picture ya(chennai slang), grumpy, serious kind, cannot even imagine me like that..

To me, life is fun when I have warmth of friends & relatives, romance, frankly, hugs & kisses. Ramanujan did not have it. That makes his entire life a waste to me, sad. PERIOD.

When I try not to be so judgemental, I remember a short, real sharp conversation I had with a friend very recently. He said his work, and his work-out are his passions in life. Soon, very soon - it felt like, I disconnected the phone, not because I was mad at what he said, or did not believe it, but because I could not relate to it at all. How could a human be so devoid of emotions? He did tell me that the object of emotions/interests can be relatively individual. That is, in his words, what gives me happiness doesn’t have to evoke same feelings in him. Later, I REALIZED THE TRUTH in his statement, bitter as it was.

And as fate would have it, I am reading the great Mathematical genius who was detached of everything till 2 years before he died. I am sorry for him. I am sorrier for his wife who married him at age 9.

Of all the 423 pages I read, I enjoyed this the most:

"Where is she?" asked Ramanujan of his mother as he stepped off the ship into the maw of Bombay on March 27, 1919. She was Janaki.

….

And there, on August 11, 1919, at the time of the Sravanam ceremony that marked the annual changing of the sacred thread, Ramanujan openly rebelled against his mother.

Trouble had been brewing for weeks between the two of them, from even before they’d arrived in town; Ramanujan had wanted to travel first class, but his mother insisted on second or third class. Now, Ramanujan was heading down to the river to bathe, as part of the Sravanam rites. Janaki wanted to go with him. Ramanujan said yes. Komalatammal said no.

And Ramanujan insisted, yes. 

….

He told her, more than once, "If only you had come with me to England perhaps I would not have fallen ill."

Ramanujan’s own Mentor at Cambridge, Hardy, seems to think like me

Hardy’s Mathematician’s Apology…

It is undeniable that a good deal of elementary mathematics…has considerable practical utility. [but] these parts of mathematics are, on the whole, rather dull; they are just the parts which have least aesthetic value. The "real" mathematics for the "real" mathematicians, the mathematics of Fermat and Euler and Gauss and Abel and Riemann, is almost wholly "useless."

Hardy went on to pity the mathematical physicist who might use mathematical tools to understand the workings of the universe; was not his lot in life a little pathetic?

If he wants to be useful, he must work in a humdrum way, and he cannot give full play to his fancy even when he wishes to rise to the heights. "Imaginary" universes are so much more beautiful than this stupidly constructed "real" one; and most of the finest products of an applied mathematician’s fancy must be rejected, as soon as they have been created, for the brutal but sufficient reason that they do not fit the facts.

Yes, Ramanujan knew Infinity, real well too. But, he failed to see who he was inside.

Postscript: I can imagine Ramanujan smiling slyly at me, "buddhu, idhu ellaam enna pesuthu, nalla velai, ithai kekka naan uyiroda illa!" Laughs apart, I am sure Ramanujan should be proud of himself for achieving what anyone else subject to his poverty and race cannot even dream of. I am proud of him too, as he is an Indian, Tamil, Chennaite, but if he were my family, I will only feel sad, again.

Harry Potter’s new book, 7th one in the series, is coming tomorrow to stores worldwide. I am glad to live at this age when kids look forward to reading books with such devotion. My own daughter is a fan of Cam Jansen and her mystery series, she turned 5 a week ago

It reminds me of my own younger days.

I started reading Tamil books at 4 (Rani comics, Diamond comics) and English ones at 5 (Amar Chitra Katha, Tinkle). To date I have never read a Hindi story outside of textbooks , mostly because I did not have access to it.

The first Amar Chitra Katha I got was Velu Thampi, a freedom fighter from Kerala who at the end hid in a temple where the British troops found him, if my memory serves me right! I bought it at Maharaja Departmental Stores in Besant Nagar, actually made my dear uncle buy it for me for Rs. 10/-

I never bought a lot of books, mostly borrowed it from friends or library or from friends who got it from their library. I was very fortunate in that I was studying with kids who were into reading too and whose parents traveled outside of India and hence I got access to US & UK books. Enid Blyton was my favorite primary school times author.

I did develop a really bad reading habit, I realized it just 2 years ago. I will only read books referred to me by friends. If it is a new author’s book, I will finish the entire line by the same author until it is exhausted. After that I will go through a phase where I wouldn’t read anything for a while, a long while. Pretty much a feast or famine scenario. It went like this:

Elementary:Tinkle, Amar Chitra katha ->

Upper Elementary: Enid Blyton [Famous Five, Secret Seven]->

Middle: Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys -> Agatha Christie [Hercule Poirot, Miss Marple] ->

High: Sidney Sheldon [the first one being Stars Shine Down]

Senior High: Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the wind, Alexandra Ripley’s Scarlett, Mario Puzo’s Godfather and the Sicilian.

Once my dad caught me reading Barbara Taylor Bradford, that was the end of it. Also, my dad had this really annoying bad habit, he will suddenly read parts of books I am in the process of reading, that was an irritating CONTROL he had over me. That is how I felt about it. Now that I have a daughter and I try to keep a a watch on the tiniest things she does, I know he was just being protective.

A dear friend suggested that I read ONE novel of the author I presently like, make a mental list of things I would like to read next of the same author BUT move on to a different author. At least read his/her one book before I return to the previous author. Try more authors in between if I can. I have tried this, and this is wonderful. This way I get exposed to different kinds of wrtings and never find myself searching for books since i always have a mental list.

Too bad I have developed a new bad habit , I have been reading books about Bill Clinton by various people, all good:

Living History - Hillary

First in Class - forgot

My Life - Bill

This book, written by Yann Martel, has won many literary awards, including the Booker Prize. Yann Martel is a Canadian traveler who has visited India a couple of times. I read the book as a substitute to "Looming Towers," which I have reserved as the 31rst person in Plano Public Library at this point.

Contrary to my intuition, and people who are planning to read this might want to stop precisely at this point, Pi is the name of the main Character. He defines faith, belief, love, and strength. Most importantly, describes God, accurately.  This person is from India, the sacred land that gave birth to me.  There are so many instances I could recognize with Pi. His acceptance of all religions and curiousity towards spirituallty is all a part of establishing individuality during the Teen years.

The greatest gift of believing in God / divine power is just that: Belief.

Without faith and belief, nothing can be accomplished.

An Excerpt:

I must say a word about fear. It is life’s only true opponent. Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. It goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unerring ease. It begins in your mind, always. One moment you are feeling calm, slef-possessed, happy. Then fear, disguised in the garb of mild-mannered doubt, slips into your mind like a spy.  Doubt meets disbelief and disbelief tries to push it out. But disbelief is a poorly armed foot soldier. Doubt does away with it with little trouble. You becom anxious. Reason comes to do battle for you. You are reassured. Reason is fully equipped with the latest weapons technology. But, to your amazement, despite superior tactics, and a number of undeniable victories, reason is laid low. You feel yourself weakening, wavering. Your anxiety becomes dread…

…Quickly you make rash decisions. You dismiss your last allies: hope and trust. There, you’ve defeated yourself. Fear, which is but an impression, has triumphed over you.

The matter is difficult to put into words. For fear, real fear, such as shakes you to your foundation, such as you you feel when you are brought face to face with your mortal end, nestles in your memory like a gangrene: it seeks to rot everything, even the words with which to speak of it. So you might fight hard to express it. You must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it. Because, if you don’t, if your fear becomes a wordless darkenss that you avoid, perhaps even manage to forget, you open yourself to further attacks of fear because you never truly fought the opponent who defeated you.

While reading this, I was mildly reminded of my fav Tom Hanks performance in Castaway. However, it was evident once again that the pen is mightier than the silver-screen and, Spielberg’s direction.

It has been alleged that this work is Plagiarized. I care not, as long as it serves my purpose.