Twistedtales

Chicken Soup for the Indian Soul: On Friendship

2011-08-22T03:04:00.000-07:00

Have one of my pieces published in the recently released Chicken Soup for the Indian Soul: On Friendship, and very, very excited. Below is an excerpt of my piece from the book:

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The first night in my new home, I couldn’t sleep and kept tossing and turning in the bed. I suddenly felt like a child who’d been snatched from the loving arms of his mother and sent to live with grouchy relatives.

The initial months were the hardest. I had no friends and no job. My housemates, all Australians, wouldn’t include me in any of their plans, proving to be exactly like I’d pictured them to be: boorish and stuck-up. They would invite their friends over and have dinner parties, while I’d quietly sit in my room with a bowl of Maggi noodles (one of the thing that was within my budget). No job meant no money to dine at a nice restaurant, or indulge in chocolates, or even a pint of beer (or anything I could do without). I was depressed and would often cry pressing my face against the pillow. I wanted to go home.

To stop feeling sorry for myself I’d take long walks. On one such evening, I saw a group of pigeons pecking at grains strewn around by passersby. Grays and whites, all cooped up in one corner and then, there was a brown one, on its own – much like myself, I thought. It reminded me of the way I had lunch at the University – sitting alone on one of the vacant benches, looking at others who always seemed to have someone to talk to. I bought a pack of popcorn and spilled it http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifin front of the bird. At once, the other birds swooped in, sidelining the brown one again. I stood there awhile wondering whether it too came from India and lost its way.

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You can buy your own copy here: http://tinyurl.com/3jnnxn2

What Happened to That Love: Book Review

2011-08-22T03:01:00.000-07:00

Not for us the regular stands, we will only watch a cricket match in the VIP enclosure. Cattle class is for the herds, we travel business or first. Average is not an option when extraordinary is available as well.

When will this stop? When will this fascination with the remarkable take a turn towards the reality of our situations? When will we realize that we DO lead mundane lives? In fact, almost the same life as the person next to us.

Consider this. Playtime is supreme during childhood and late nights are a mysterious, out-of-reach goal. Then comes puberty and experimentations with our sexuality. And parents begin to turn dictators around this time. Closing the door of your bedroom can raise eyebrows quicker than a naked man on the road. College and university start knocking on that door very soon, setting the tone for future careers. Love happens in the middle of all this or after, and then marriage, kids and family life follow. Death, money troubles, divorce or disease – all make an appearance at some point. Peppering our mundane lives with a little flavor. In some lives, lessons are learnt. In others, they’re bypassed for the road more travelled.

One adjective remains constant, lurking in the shadows, ready to step into the light. Mundane never leaves.

Which is why, Kailash Srinivasan’s debut novel, What Happened to That Love, hits a chord somewhere. His collection of short stories is so commonplace that any of them could be your stories. Or mine. And he tells them too, in the most ordinary narrative.

In Anytime Now, an old couple on the brink of death clutches on to frail existence, each wanting to die before the other so that loneliness does not engulf them. Sounds familiar? How about the next story, Brownies? A man of Indian origin in Australia lives with racial prejudice and the threat of violence, wanting all the time to come back to his motherland. His turmoil and his helplessness at his situation play havoc in his own mind. Or the next – What Happened to That Love? Two people fall out of love and move on to other people. And are then struck with how fast they have been able to move on. Did they really love each other? What was their relationship about?

These are just three of the twelve tales that Srinivasan spins. With the delicate thread of life. His patterns are simple because their content is complicated enough. He doesn’t delve too far or get too creative, choosing instead a prosaic approach. He says things like they are. For instance, the protagonist of What Should I Do is a man whose ex-wife barges into his home and refuses to leave, terrorizing him and his second wife and children. He gets blamed and doesn’t know how to resolve the situation, because he loves both women. If we start counting how many real and reel life situations that have been based on that premise, we’d need several reams of paper!

Srinivasan’s other stories are similar – a village woman sells her body to feed her children when her husband is away working in the city; a couple sacrifice everything they have to educate their son and send him abroad to study and make a fine living, only to have him forget them soon after; a little girl faces physical abuse at the hands of her father; a young girl is so traumatized by her father abandoning her mother that she develops a psychological block against men, remaining a spinster all her life; a cruel and miserly village landlord organizes a feast for the villagers in order to overcome an illness, and then charges them heavy fines once he recovers; the stories go on.http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

There are no frills anywhere, the stories are heart-wrenching enough on their own. Srinivasan’s simplistic and lucid writing becomes his biggest weapon. He stabs you with each word. Quick incisions that aren’t deep but draw blood. The saltiness of the warm liquid fills your senses, as you realize that these stories are nothing new, but their portrayal leaves you dizzy with reaction. Hurting not just for the characters in them, but for yourself. Their mundane-ness is familiar, and you suddenly realize why you run towards the different, the exotic, the special.

It is the mundane that wrenches your gut, churns your soul. Maybe that’s why, you and I want no part of it. Absolutely none.

SOURCE: http://blog.uprack.com/

What Happened to That Love Review

2011-07-07T22:30:00.000-07:00

by Adeena Jamal Ahmad on Jul 8, 2011

what happened love Review: What Happened to That Love? by Kailash Srinivasan
Price: Rs 125
Publication: Pustak Mahal

Verdict: Srinivasan’s understanding of love has many shades and they’re evident in his debut collection of 12 short stories.

Rating: 3/5

Kailash Srinivasan, with his debut novel, has surely created ripples with a collection of twelve stories that pertain to Love. The preconceived notion about the book could be how it will probably deal with cheesy romantic sagas. But no, the book has interpreted a different meaning of love altogether. Srinivasan has seen the several aspects of the word love that has many shades to woo you.

The language of the book is light. No flamboyant writing to show off. Simple words that perhaps express the true meaning of emotions. The beauty of the book is that every short story has touched a different aspect of love. There is no deep psychology that one has to interpret. It just highlights little felt emotions that one feels everyday but doesn’t really realize. Srinivasan has taken a sarcastic look at certain situations, interpreting the irony in many of them.

The only point that might not appeal to a reader is the cover of the book. Keeping in sync with the emotions it deals, the cover could be a little more appealing. However, the page quality and print is fine.

The set up of the book is based alternatively in India and Australia. The stories are breezy. The USP of the book is that it is an easy read. There is no unnecessary stretching. Precise is the operative word.

For a debutant writer, Kailash Srinivasan has hit the bull’s eye. His brief stories have delivered the right emotion. It is a relief from the recent genre of books that fail to click with readers. This quick read will not disappoint you.

New Story in BluSlate Magazine

2011-01-31T02:58:00.000-08:00

BluSlate Magazine, based in Pune, has published one of my short stories, titled, Is Umra Mein. The issue should be out in first week of February. Very Excited!!

Praise for the What Happened to That Love

2011-01-17T03:51:00.000-08:00

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Review by ajay
the cover: brilliantly dark and intriguing.
the stories: deliciously dark. I am still smacking my lips. The synopsis and the cover is what got my attention. I am so, so glad I picked this up. Can't wait to read your second book.
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Wow. what beautiful writing.
Review by kala
I cried my eyes out after I read the first piece, Anytime Now. So moving, so nicely written. I love the way you write. Can't wait to read the other stories in the collection. ; )

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Review by swarita
engrossing...kept me hooked for as many dayz as it took to finish it..each story amazingly different n unpredictable. d only grumble- its a lil stark..a lil bleak. more happy endings plz!

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An excellent read!

Review by Gopi
A fantastic effort. Surprised to see a first time author display such maturity in handling complex themes. A must read and a must have for every short story aficionado.

What Happened To That Love? by Kailash Srinivasan, ISBN: 9788122311617 | Pustak Mahal

2011-01-14T00:54:00.000-08:00

What Happened To That Love? by Kailash Srinivasan, ISBN: 9788122311617 | Pustak Mahal

My first book is finally out

2011-01-07T03:46:00.000-08:00

My short story collection is finally out.

All you folks out there who like to read quality fiction, check out my first book, a collection of short stories.

I can do with some support:D
You can go to any of these following links to buy your copy:

http://www.pustakmahal.com/books/book/what-happened-that-love-kailash-srinivasan/isbn-9788122311617/zb,,4a1,a,0,INR,0,a/index.html

http://books.rediff.com/book/kailash-srinivasan/what-happened-to-that-love/ISBN:9788122311617/96798188

http://www.flipkart.com/happened-love-kailash-srinivasan-book-812231161x

You should purchase my book: If you are an avid reader and are always on the lookout for quality fiction; if you are tired of "wannabe", atrociously written books by IIM and IIT pass outs who should stop writing and switch to an office job; if you love short stories

I hope you will read my book as I am very keen to know what you think about it.

What Happened To That Love

2010-12-06T23:36:00.000-08:00

“We both are with different people today and are comfortable with them. That bothers me. When we separated and Jim came into my life, I thought my love for him will always be different than it was for you, and I imagined you feeling the same way about Gena. It’s different, yes, but not as bad as I thought it’ll be, and that hurts me. You know what I mean? And it’s not even like one of us died. We’ve moved on so easily, Jake. How?”
Jake looks at her tenderly. Jake and Jill we used to call each other. If Jake was to tumble, Jill would tumble after is what we had agreed on.
“What happened to that love, Jake?”

In the sad, heartbreaking title story, an old couple relive their beautiful moments, while they await the inevitable; in other tales, a mother does the unthinkable to feed her starving children; a father’s blind love for his son causes nothing but anguish to him; an old man in desperate need of answers seeks counsel of a young boy; a child yearns for the love of her parents; a village landlord throws a feast to save his life; two couples struggle to understand love; a woman likes the idea of marriage but is afraid of men.

What Happened to That Love is a short story collection comprising 12 stories set in India and Australia that explore life, death, love, ache, greed, hope, destiny, alienation, fallacies, and the nature of rural and urban life, and the changes that come to us all.

‘Srinivasan possesses the astute eye and sensitive ear to catch the subtle shades of human emotions; his characters are believable and real, his themes engaging and profound. The voice carries echoes of Raymond Carver, but it is distinctly Srinivasan’s: compassionate but detached, probing and ironic, the gentle and sometimes grim humour effectively balancing the pathos. It is a rewarding collection to read.’
Dr. Kim Cheng Boey, Senior Lecturer, University of Newcastle, Australia

He can be reached at kailash.srinivasan@gmail.com

The Modern Imbeciles – us

2010-06-22T03:25:00.000-07:00

Cable TV came to India in the early 90s. It was welcomed with much fun-fare and excitement. Not that Doordarshan was any bad. Shows such as Hum Log, Buniyaad, Nukkad, Ramayan, Mr. Yogi, Karamchand, Byomkesh Bakshi, the ever popular Chitrahaar, and the unforgettable Shaktimaan, the Indian superhero (they could’ve cast Mr. Vajpayee as Shaktimaan as he was just as wrinkled and slow), did rather well.
But our jaws dropped on learning that cable TV offered more than 200 channels. Along came the beautiful world of American Sitcoms. And oh what a wonderful world it was – Brady’s Bunch, Small Wonder, Wonder Years, Dr. Doogie Howser, Silver Spoons, Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, Different Strokes, the wonderful company of Friends and other such great shows. Here, how can I not mention the cult show Baywatch, which forever etched Pamela Anderson and Yasmin Bleeth in my heart? Also, opening our mind and stretching our imagination like never before were the barrage of movie channels like Star Movies and HBO showing everything from sexy Demi Moore in Striptease to Sharon Stone’s bold portrayal of a psychopathic serial killer in Basic Instinct.

For most of us it was like being let loose in the Disneyland of skin-shows. The late night movies became a rage and many a students would stay up on the pretext of studying for exams. Parents were the most impressed. ‘My son stays up till 2 a.m.’
However, when the results came, the first thing they did was to discontinue cable, only temporarily though, because by this time parents were addicted to it too. It was a strong, intoxicating drug overpowering the strictest of principled men and women.

Sex-craved teenagers looking for an appropriate medium to satisfy their raging hormones were showered upon with titillating gifts (like Oprah’s famous Holiday Giveaways) – DVD players were invented (one could rent any damn movie and watch it when parents weren’t home: Shaitan Auntie was one such popular flick that showcased a particularly loose auntie who did all kinds of favours), computers with internet connection came (desibaba.com – the Indian playboy had thousands of hits everyday), international magazines came (oh, penthouse, how we still love thee).

All was good in Alice in Wonderland till Censor Board decided to play Krur Singh and started sticking morality into our noses.
‘You should not see that. It is against our culture. Hey ram, ram.’
‘So what if you’re an adult?’
‘So what if you can vote, marry, or book a hotel room without supervision?’
‘You will do as told. No bad TV means, no bad TV.’

So the censor board went around brandishing their scissors like a gardener in an unkempt backyard full of wild bushes and creepers. Snick, snick, snick, they went. Gradually, Star Movies and HBO only broadcasted movies made for 15 year olds and if at all a sex-scene slipped past their Only-for-India eyes, they went for a commercial break just as the hero came too close to the heroine, leaving the audiences’ frenzied heartbeats, and burning loins restless and unsatisfied. FTV modified their content too and gone were the wild days of Rio De Janiero festivals where naked women danced to samba beats. Gone were days of late-night parties where nudity was as prevalent as slum kids shitting on Indian roadsides.

However, cable operators were at that time on the customer’s side and hence sneaked in a Russian beauty called TB6 Mockba, an awesome channel that showed playboy models strutting their stuff, and that too very intentionally, on Saturday nights after around 1 am or so, thinking, Of course Krur Singh must be asleep – but what they didn’t know was, that bugger was up too secretly ogling at the hot models. And soon after, and not without warning, the channel was banned. Of course, we can’t watch shows like these. Our fragile minds are so impressionable, and obviously we have no maturity.

Thankfully, DVDs continued to be produced. Chamiya and Chamiya 2 did rather well. And internet continued to entertain.

Now just when I’d made peace with the fact that yes, any skin-show or dirty words, will either make me jump on women or influence me to add those colourful words to my vocabulary respectively, I noticed a peculiar thing one day as I was surfing channels. Wedding Crashers was playing on Star Movies. The characters were doing their thing, but I realised something was distracting me. Upon close scrutiny I discovered that there were subtitles at the bottom on the screen. I thought, it was a mistake perhaps and switched to HBO. Same shit. I go to WB. Same shit. And this is when I realised I am the modern imbecile. Of course I don’t understand English and their oh-so-hard accents. Cable came to India in the 1990s, and after twenty years of being in this country, they realised it only recently, Shoot. This is India, the poverty stricken nation with illiterates that (just a minor detail) has a booming BPO industry, IT experts, and world-renowned professors and scientists.
Actually I don’t blame them. The entire West is ignorant. Recently, I met with an American Professor with the purpose of interviewing him. As I made to leave he said, ‘Your English is excellent. You must have learnt it abroad.’ I was too mad to say anything, just nodded and left. I encountered the same idiocy in Australia as well, and I said, ‘No, I haven’t lived abroad. I learnt all my “English” in India, my motherland.’

Now if only Star and HBO will stop subtitling their movies, or if we are that stupid, please pack your bags and leave.

Gow thoo China

In the library

2008-11-07T16:15:00.000-08:00

Layers and layers of cobwebs
on the glass window
A tiny maple leaf caught
in the center
Numerous tinier things
digested over the years
Dried insect wings
A pile of dry leaves
A wall with an abstract painting: black, pink, yellow, gray
green, orange, brown and cream.
Crumpled, used tissue paper on table
Book face down, open
Notebook with a blue pen on top
The book opens and someone starts to read
page by page, line by line.
The pen starts moving and writes poetry.
Someone coughs in my ears and
the pista green mucous sticks to the side of my face
The slight rustle of pages being opened
The muffled whispers
Silence in library, ooh that’s the rule,
someone is studying or not;
sleeping or glancing around;
surfing the internet or listening to his ipod, silence…
The drone of the announcement, a bored announcer: Library will close at six
German or French
Instead of “kəm-pyōō'tər” says kom-pyōō'tər.
He’s ready to go home,
People packing to leave
Its 5:45
Fifteen minutes to go
Get up…headbang, lose all clothes, go naked
only if it weren’t so windy outside and
people weren't looking
Coffee feels good,
aftertaste lingers
someone opens a polythene bag;
someone puts a pencil in my ears
deeper and deeper and turns it hard
Someone clears his throat:
about to sing, to say something?
More whispers.
Plans for the evening?