Time

 

Time

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘Time is fear. Time is sorrow. Time is pleasure’.

J.Krishnamurti.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My wife and I view time differently. To me it is cast in stone. Non-negotiable. Something to respect. To my wife, it is a general concept. An undefinable idea. A general guideline. Neither is right. Both are wrong.

I am fidgety. The film starts at 8.20 p.m. My mind works like this. The movie starts at 8.20. so one must be there by 8.15; for that one must reach the parking by 8.05; the car must start by 7.50; one should hence leave home by 7.45. And I am ready at 7.40.

My wife has a different logic. The ‘show’ starts at 8.20. the ‘movie’ will start at 8.50 after the advertisements, trailers, public interest messages, etc.… It is enough if you leave by 8.15.

Those 30 minutes (we always leave when my wife decides to leave) are like standing on hot coal for me. I make my discomfort and frustrations clear through not so subtle a body language.

Those 30 minutes are often the difference between leaving after the cinema without paying extra for the parking. As every married man knows, the wife is always right. We know it but we do not accept it.

We see about 15 films at the cinemas each year on an average. So, that is 7.5 hours of the same drama played out each year.

And the best part is my wife is fast asleep at 9.05. A dark cinema hall and a moving car are two things that put my wife to sleep immediately. She will suddenly stir awake and ask me, ‘Who is this?’. She is capable of asking, and she has asked, this question even if the film has only two actors, like Sleuth for example.

In all fairness, she is consistent. She treats all deadlines as indicative. One of the unavoidable aspects of belonging to a society is being invited for social get-togethers. Mostly lunch invitations. I take the mentioned time of 2.30 as gospel truth. Once again, I do the elaborate breaking down by working backwards from the mentioned time and arrive at what should be the time of departure. In those rare instances when I am alone, (Rare on two counts; my wife and I do not travel anywhere on our own, we usually travel together and hence stay together all the time, the second count is no one is stupid enough to invite ME when my wife is not there. I am tolerated in the society because of my wife. ) I usually arrive on time. And find out the host is not happy at all. When a host says 2.30, they really do not expect you by 2.30. Once again, my wife parses the invitation more adroitly and we arrive at 3.45. And no one cares!

And it is considered normal. It is clear that I am the misfit here.

Cinemas and lunch invitations are petty stuff. The grand slam is when there is travel involved. As in the established order of things, here too we have a Clay court and the Wimbledon grass. It is French open, when we travel by our car. Here time is more flexible than it usually is. Of course, we never leave on the agreed time. It matters little on the final outcome. We will reach the hotel maybe an hour or two later than planned. I will be grumpy when we start, will drive in complete silence, at least for the first hour or so, will answer in grunts or monosyllables. Those are my ways of showing that I am disappointed. My wife keeps wondering, ‘Why is Mr. Grumpy so grumpier today than the usual grumpiness’ and chooses to ignore. She does not understand this obsession of mine. Pushed to the limits, she once even asked me, ‘How does it matter if we reach the hotel by 1700 or 1845?’

I did not reply, because I did not have an answer.

Does it really matter? I have no idea. I know it is not correct, but can’t explain why it is not correct.

The Wimbledon is when we have to fly! Once again, the whole shebang of working in reverse (Like a Nolan movie) from the time of departure, boarding start, security and passport control, check-in / baggage drop queue, traffic to the airport, the mandatory stupid check of documents, waiting time for Uber……….

Every 5-minute delay from the agreed time (agreed is loosely used here; It is agreed in my opinion, but only acknowledged from my wife’s point of view) causes my heart rate to go up by 10, but to be fair, the usual elasticity of time normally exercised is kept in restraint and the time of departure does not vary significantly from the ‘agreed’ time (I realized a major component that can influence punctuality is money – a missed flight is surely more expensive, and even more inconvenient, than a late entry to a luncheon or to an auditorium). We have never missed a flight in our life so far. We have almost always reached the airport even before the check-in counters opened, invariably reached our gate 2 hours before the boarding starts, and not infrequently ended up even longer as the flight was delayed ‘due to unavoidable circumstances’. Would the airline accept my excuse of ‘unavoidable circumstances’ if I were to miss my flight!

We will reach our gate so early, that often the boarding for the previous flight would not have started, and my wife will give me a look that will say ‘what was the hurry and the long face for’ and I will ignore that look and the implied question completely knowing that there is no satisfactory answer.

This does not make the next time any better! We reset and repeat endlessly.

All this preamble builds up nicely to the day in question.

9^th July 2026. France plays Morocco in the first quarter final. The match starts at 2200 hours. A replay of the 2022 semifinal. Expectations are high. Will Morocco upset France? Can they stop the unstoppable? Has France peaked too early? Is another upset on the cards? Will Mbappe win the golden boot and the trophy? The timing is perfect. All the activities that comprise a routine weekday will be over. Office, evening run, a trip to the supermarket, dinner. Everything. 10 p.m. is a nice time for a kickoff.

Of course, there is a catch. There always is. We have a dinner invitation. Unavoidable (as per my wife). This was agreed during the group stages, (During sports events, which is usually throughout the year, football, tennis, F1, I relate events in my life to the sports calendar)  and they are such a nice couple, we accepted their invitation when they visited us, yada yada yada.

Long and short of it – we must go. There is no escaping it.

Sometimes boundaries are drawn. I made it clear to my wife that we will leave their home by 9 p.m. (the usual working backwards from kickoff to the time of departure) and this one time it is non-negotiable. Even my wife knows that there are things that are sacrosanct and football surely sits at the very top. (Fortunately, she also likes football).

The evening is pleasant. They are indeed a nice couple. The crowd is really big, which is good for me as I can easily get lost in a big crowd. I keep looking at my phone discretely reading up on the buildup. My wife keeps sending me those looks that say, ‘Do not be a dick! Behave like a normal human being. It is just one evening, and a few hours at the most. Talk to people. Stay engaged’. I have spent a lifetime in not deciphering specific instructions. So, such indicative signals are usually wasted on me. By usual standards, I behaved well.

Things are normal till 8 p.m. I start to get uncomfortable when dinner is not announced at 8. The rest of the crowd were still drinking and there were some games going on. The main discussions were Hindi cinema, cricket, and politics. I had nothing to contribute to any of them. The crowd is much younger, not surprising when you are 60+. They have no idea about Naseeruddin Shah, Farouk Sheikh or Deepti Naval. Desmond Haynes and Gordon Greenidge drew a blank from them. They thought those two are some politicians from Antigua. No such shocks in politics as I had nothing to offer. P. G. Wodehouse once wrote that even the most meandering river finally unwinds itself into the sea. The same thing happened to the party too. Either the cosmos contrived to look favorably in my direction or even the hosts have had enough. Dinner was served. I have no recollection of  what was there on the menu. I filled my plate mechanically and consumed the contents with such a total lack of interest, it would have caused anguish to the hosts, if they had looked at me. I kept trying to steal my wife’s look to signal that it was time to leave. She kept avoiding my attempts. She was more successful as mine was in desperation while hers was in deliberation. There is something nebulous and indescribable in bringing about a clean exit from a party. Dinner over, say thanks, mouth inanities and exit is my perception of how it should be. However my wife thanks the hosts, meets several people individually, exchanges future dinner plans (shudder), stops to cuddle a few kids – in short she behaves like a normal human being, while I am doing what I am good at; I am nervous, keep pointing my watch (in mime – who wears a watch these days) and position myself close to exit, ready to leave the moment my wife moves in the general direction of the door. Her exchanges and interactions are endless and finally we depart the party at 9.27.

All the 7 signals on the way to my home were red. I grip the steering wheel harder than necessary, keep a face longer than required, tap my leg impatiently at every signal and when I finally arrive, the parking gate does not open at once. I punch on the remote harder, knowing very well that it does not work that way, and finally on the 4^th attempt, the gates part open.

I park my car, reach home, switch on the TV, change into my pajamas and seat myself on my favorite couch.

It is 9.50. I have a stupid grin on my face.

Perfect.

My wife sighs with a helpless shrug and a sad shake of her head.

The phone rings. My brother. I smile. He does not watch much football. But he manages to watch QF onwards when it is world cup time. He usually calls me to ask about which team is the favorite, who will win, which player to watch out for.

Who does not like to show off?

I pick up the phone with a grin on my face, eyes glued to the TV, and say ‘Yes sir, tell me’

He said “ Hi. Mother is dead”

Persistence of memory - By Dali - PC - Google Images.

Mother, do you think they’ll like this song?

I was fed before I knew I was hungry

My hand in her hand was the perfect sanctuary

As my age advanced

My independence grew

She was around, she did not step in

But she knew.

 

In intelligence, I was an Einstein

In fitness, a Bolt

In financial acumen, a Buffett

In strength, an elephant

In fairness, Dharma incarnate

My humor was second to none

My maturity, was the reference to measure others’

All the mothers are of same kind

Proof that love is blind.

 

Now that she’s gone

My cover is blown.

 

The calls were simple and caring

But also routine and boring

How are you?

What did you eat?

What will you eat?

Her day revolved around such calls

The answers were mechanical

I lied when I did not have lunch

Was much simpler than explain much.

The number is still there

But the calls stopped.

 

Now I realize she did not see the world through me

I was her world!

 

A mother is such an enigma

Love is her only dogma.

She can endure her pain

Not when the pain is mine

She may not be perfect

But her only instinct is to protect

Home is her world

Concern is her word

She will ignore her health

Won’t care for any wealth

Her love is abundant

Whether you are near or distant

Faced with her easy demeanor

An atheist becomes a believer

And stays one forever.

 

A believer, of not any falsehood

But the beautiful motherhood.

 

Amma is such a versatile word

I utter it often

A long drawn AmmmMMMAA when I rest

A plaintive AmmmmmmMAAAAAAAAA when I am in pain

A simple AmmMA when something is finished

An affectionate mmaa when I called her

The utterances will continue, but for the last

For she is now past.

I was without her in my life for a very brief period. She left me on the 17th of April and I had her back on my hand on the 30th Of May. 

When Patch Adams met my mother.

In the end, she was free. She left us chained in memories. Her phone number now joins the list of other phone numbers that I can no longer call. Like the other earlier ones, this number also will not be deleted from my contacts.

ЖЖ

September 1982. My parents accompanied me to Mangalore as I was about to start my university life. More daunting than the engineering course to follow in the next four years, was the fact that I would move into a hostel! Though I had stayed with my relatives the previous six years, having left my home at a tender age of 11, it was still……..staying with my relatives, the setting was home.

Hostel appeared strange.

Intimidating.

For the first time in my life, I was going to be alone. I would be responsible for my life, my finance, my budget, my wellbeing, my laundry, my stuff……… MY LIFE! It was scary. But in hindsight, that was the best thing that happened to me. What I am today - my independence, my lack of displayed emotions, taking responsibility for my decisions – is the product of those four years. The youth was also wasted a little, reinforcing what Viet Thanh Nguyen said in his brilliant work, The Sympathizer.

January 2026. My brother and I took my mother to NESTRA HEALTH CARE for assisted living. Life comes a full circle. She needs round the clock care and attention. There had been a lot of debate, mainly driven by the social baggage, around what is right and acceptable. The prevailing wisdom was, the elders must be cared for at home.

Come what may!

I fail to see any logic or even compassion or commonsense in this. We are OK with admitting one’s mother, or for that matter anyone who is extremely unwell, into a hospital. This ailing person can spend a week in ICU, another week in the general ward, and when able, is brought back home. There is no drama or moral grounds on getting this person moved to the hospital and be left in the care of trained professionals. We are not sitting down and having a long drawn discussion on whether the person should move to a hospital; if it is the right thing to do; if we are somehow failing in our moral duties. Yada. Yada. Yada. It is the most obvious thing to do. If the care and health of the person can’t be provided at home, then the person is shifted to a place run and managed by professionals of health care.

What is OK for a hospital admission is apparently not OK for continued living.

What is complicated in this equation is, that at times the elders themselves are unreasonable. They feel that they have been “ dumped” at a place. That their children do not care for them anymore.

Fortunately, my mother is not one of them. She, in fact, wanted to move and made it clear that this is her choice and also not to nurse any thoughts of one day taking her back home.

“I go from here” is what she said.

She meant her trip to the crematorium.

There is another inane argument offered by the society. Your parents took care of you when you were young and you need to take care of them when they are old.

Absolutely correct.

Non-negotiable.

But who gets to define what is “ caring”. And who gets to define the “ quality” of the care.

Let us also factor in certain biological aspects. Your parents were young when you were a child. You are now in your 60s (probably) when they reach this stage of complete dependence.

It is OK for a Rajni to carry a Pandari Bai in his arms and sing a song, but real life is different.

PC: Google Images

Let us visualize the life of an elderly. A widow or a widower, especially. They have their room. With their meagre needs. A cot, a tab, their YouTube Vishnu Sahashranamams, Hanuman Chalisas, Kanda Sasthi Kavachams, their daily or weekly calls with their relatives, food at regular times, mostly consumed alone, as the others in the household are either away or their times do not match, their offspring(s) spending about 10 mins in the morning and 15 minutes in the evening with them. They spend most of their time lying down as sitting up is taxing and takes up too much efforts. They do not go out with the rest of the family for the same reason. They live in dread of falling down and breaking a bone or two. They know that this would be an additional burden to the family, more than their physical strain. They slow down.

This is applicable if they are mobile.

What should they do, should their dependency increase? Let us look at a situation where the person is bedridden, or mostly confined to bed, needs someone’s assistance to move about. They need oxygen virtually round the clock. They need additional machines that help them live. Put yourself in their place.

·       Every unassisted breath is a struggle

·       Every step is an eternity

·       A simple trip to the washroom becomes an act without dignity

·       The ever present fear that something will go wrong and that you will become an additional burden

·       Heightened sensitivity that exaggerates everything around you (usually in a negative way)

When such a position comes around and round-the-clock professional care is inevitable, the society and the relatives chip in.

“ All of this can be provided at home”

“ Why send her to assisted living”

“ They are flesh and blood people, not things, to use and discard after their usefulness”

There is a general reluctance to send an elderly to professional care, away from home. In all this deliberation and debates, the person who needs the care is not consulted. One takes a decision not to send them knowing very well that keeping them at home is at best a compromise and in reality a stupid one. People often take this decision to keep them at home with the conviction that solitude is unbearable.

On the contrary solitude is beautiful.

It is indifference that kills.

In my mother’s case, she knew her condition and she also knew the impossibility of continuing at home. She knew the risks she is exposing herself to as well as the demands on the others in the household.

A thousand things can go wrong.

·       There can be a power failure

·       There can be a fall

·       There may be no one around when an emergency occurs

The naysayers will argue that power can fail in the assisted living institute too, she may fall there too, she may be alone when an emergency occurs. It is quite possible but the probability of it happening is rather low. They are professionals.

Let me give you an example.

You are sitting down for dinner at home and tell your husband that you would like to have “ Methi Malai Mutter”. And you order the same dish in a restaurant. In which place are you likely to get the item on your table?

Professionals manage their operations differently and hence lesser chances of a mishap compared to an ordinary setting.

Twenty routine minutes each day in the known environs of home will look so insignificant when you spend two quality hours a week when you visit her. She will have a healthy routine, professional care, less guilt, more of the same routine. After all, what is/has been her routine? Get up, coffee, ablution, breakfast, flirt with her gods, lunch, sleep, calls to/from the regulars, special calls on specific days, an evening with Sai Baba, dinner and sleep.

Repeat.

None of this will change. She will make new friends. Young nurses will learn about her rich life. She will impart wisdom and she will learn from them.

This is not to say that she will not miss home. Of course, she will. At least initially.

With comfort comes vacillation.

When her needs are attended to, and when life falls into a predictable routine, she will start missing having the familiar surroundings, and people. Family by definition involves people, and that familiar connection of seeing the usual faces, or those festivals, gatherings will be missed. One’s mind at such an advanced age will not be able to assess and conclude that this is the best option available. If anything, human beings are adaptable. Her body will get used to the comfort and her mind will still long for undefined, undefinable emotions. Emotions are tricky. She herself will realize that any other option will be a compromise. Her heart will overrule her head. Only time could heal this conundrum. This is where we come in. To talk with her as frequently as possible. Visit her as much as we can. The care home and its staff play a vital role here. Her needs are meagre. And if the staff understands this and treat her with care and respect, she will have nothing to complain.

She may still need medical intervention. She may have to be shifted to a hospital for extra care that the home is unable to provide. This should not come as a shock. She may have to be shifted and brought back. We agree on certain basics. She will not be kept alive like a vegetable. We agree to a DNR, DNI and no ventilator.

We abide by what David Clayton-Thomas sang in “When I Die” – ‘ If it’s peace you find in dying, well, then let the time be near’ and ‘all I ask of dying is to go naturally’.

When a WhatsApp forward comes that says “ In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years” , we agree and immediately forward it to others in our contacts. But we will not allow the dignity of an older person to go and live in the way they would prefer. We will make their decisions for them. We will convince them that they are happy at home. We will convince ourselves that we are doing the right thing. They are likely to be sad and in pain. We are likely to be impatient and irritated. But we are doing the right thing because that is how the society is going to judge us. Like Kevin Simler said in his fantastic book, - The elephant in the brain -  “we deceive ourselves in order better to deceive others”.

Patch Adams said it most succinctly “Our job is improving the quality of life, not just delaying death”

Video from YouTube

We know we have done the right thing by moving my mother to assisted living. This is what she deserves in her last days. We are only glad that we could make it happen. She may have a few more months or years left. We have no idea. We count every additional day as a blessing.

One should be prepared to accept that every message (our care home made a WhatsApp group to post updates) and every phone call makes your heart race. When your time is coming to an end, the inevitable will happen one day, and not knowing if that day is today or has already happened is nerve wracking. One had to endure. There are no easy way out here.

I am talking to her more regularly than ever. Two calls a day. Not just me, her schedule is loaded like a calendar of a fortune 500 CEO. At least six daily calls, few weekly calls, and about two or three visits a week by my friends and relatives who live in the city or visiting the city. My wife , who has now become an expert in remote monitoring, has been busy with the cook and in explaining to him some specific recipes.

There is truth in the saying that absence makes the heart grow fonder even if proximity breeds contempt does not apply here.

Moving an elderly person to assisted care is more difficult in India (and may be in Asia in general) than in many of the western countries. Not because of lack of facilities. There are plenty. They are professionally managed too. It is true, that the services offered are not exactly what they are “advertised-as” in many places. But, overall, one could have no complaints. The hurdle is social and behavioral. There is a general reluctance to opt for such facilities, when commonsense screams it loud as the only logical option, mainly due to societal baggage. One is worried about what the society will say and how they will judge you. This was never relevant nor is it relevant today. But surprisingly it is a single major point of contention in opting for a logical option against a misplaced compromise that makes life difficult for everyone concerned.

Please choose the place well. There are the usual compulsions of cost and proximity. I would recommend the following checklist.

1.       Visit the place in person – do not go by brochures.

2.       Look at the facilities that are on offer

3.       The following are the top ones.

a.       Food

b.       Quality of the attendant

c.       In-house doctor

d.       Qualified nurses

4.       If the person can soak in the sun

5.       Small walks

6.       Proximity.

7.       Wi-Fi connectivity

8.       Visiting hours – are they flexible or too formal.

One will not visit them every day. But when one wants to, the procedure should not be too bureaucratic. 

As if to vindicate our stand, she has been going on a regular walk on the terrace where she gets the sun, or along the corridor if it is too cold outside. She even goes down a floor and visits the small Ganesha Temple inside the gate of the premises.

Photo shared by a Nestra Staff.

Many will not agree with our decision. They have their reasons.

We were clear and so was our mother. And that’s all that matters in the end. All hysteria around providing expert care to the elderly need to die down.

If a hostel to a college going student is accepted, a care home for the elderly should not raise eyebrows or pass judgments on character.

Care home for elderly should be normalized.

It should be the norm and an obvious choice when keeping them at home is a strain on them and you.

If this article helps even one person in making that decision, my purpose is served.

And finally, a shout out to Nestra and the people there. On a macro scale, this was service. It could have remained that way, impersonal, clinical and matter of fact. But the staff at Nestra treated our mother with passion, kindness and care. She was pampered. And to that, I say a big THANK YOU to all at Nestra. You made sure her final days were pleasant and as less painful as possible. You were firm but were also kind. Bless you!

Mother once said “These children take care of me so much. They keep me engaged, ask me what would I like to have for breakfast, lunch and dinner. They force me to eat even when I am not inclined to eat. “

You people are indeed great.

Here I name you all. Please know that my family is forever indebted to you.

Thanks Ganga, Smrity, Swarna, Deepa, Rubina, Simran, Rubi, Ratan, Palani, Dr .Hajira, Dr. Malathi, and Veena!

I shudder to think how we would have managed her at home. The care provided by Nestra was exemplary and exceptional. Our heart would have willed, but we would have been severely handicapped in our ability to manage her needs. Both physical and medical.

This was her family in the last few months of her life. And to that, we are eternally grateful.

Photo shared by a Nestra staff

And in the end, a salute to my cousin, Manju Meena who is a perfect definition of selfless, dedicated, complete, and pure love.

 

 

 

Books Read in 2025.

Hello, a happy 2026 to everyone.

Continuing the habit, here is a list of books I read in 2025.

1.    Postwar – A History of Europe Since 1945 (Non-Fiction) by Tony Judt; This must rank as one of the best books I have read. Ever. I have not been this impressed by a book since The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich. As a matter of fact the two books must be made compulsory reading in every curriculum. The book seamlessly and in an easily readable way, documents the shape of Europe after the second world war. The initial shock, the slow rebuilding, the loss of Eastern Europe to communism (what the author calls as " Communism was the wrong answer to a right question"), the recovery, the setbacks, cultural transition and cultural appropriation, fall of communism, the gaps between the rich and the poor, internal conflicts, needless wars, glaring discrepancies, doctored history that each nation found suitable to remember (or conveniently forget) its past, how collaborators played victims, and how long it took for the Jews to get acknowledged. A massive read. The scope and research is daunting to even contemplate. And he has delivered them all in such elegant prose. Superlative work.

a.    Started on 24^th November 2024 and finished on 4^th March 2025

b.    Recommended by Self

2.    Orbital (Fiction) by Samantha Harvey: A decent read. But am not sure if it is a booker prize material. This one statement was wow “ Companionship is our consolation for being trivial”

a.    Started on 5^th March and finished on 7^th March

b.    Recommended by Self.

3.    Freezing Order (Non-Fiction) by Bill Browder; Having read Red Notice, this was on the list for a long time. Bought it while traveling and ended up starting the book immediately as I finished Orbital while on the road. Fast read and it comes as a surprise that someone like Putin is still free in this world. Though, at times it does appear that Browder comes across as someone who slips into hyperbole while describing the Russian depravity.

a.    Started on 7^th March and finished on 13^th March

b.    Recommended by Self

4.    Invisible Women – Exposing Data Bias In A World Designed For Men (Non-Fiction) by Caroline Criado Perez; A pertinent book. We all know about the disservice to women in society and in medicine. This book delves deeper and exposes so many atrocities. From badly designed cars, ignoring women’s needs while designing solutions, disaster relief (hilarious and sad account of kitchen less homes built after a Gujarat earthquake), sexual exploitation, the Catch 22 situation of ignoring women, downplaying them, and marginalizing them after making token concessions. How women who can’t swim, or climb a tree are victims during the routine Bangladesh floods, and often they not only wait for men to come and escort them to safe places, but they need them to come and tell that there is a cyclone coming! The situation needs to change and now! They have been ignored for long and it is time to change the default human from a male. Not to forget the sarcasm dripping from every page. If women are angry, they have a valid reason to be angry.

a.    Started on 13^th March and finished on 20^th April

b.    Recommended by Self.

5.    Sarajevo Marlboro (Fiction) by Miljenko Jergovic; A nice collection of short stories. First hand experience of having gone through the war. The story Diagnosis is certainly the best in the collection. One can relate to the absurdity and admire the capacity to slip into humor in the middle of all that sadness. These statements from the collection will live rent free in my mind forever. “ If it wasn’t for faithlessness, there probably would not be so much unhappiness in love” and "Everyone knows the speed of light, but few know that of darkness"

a.    Started on 22^nd April and finished on 26^th April

b.    Recommended by a Sarajevo shopkeeper

6.    Beloved (Fiction) by Toni Morrison; A huge disappointment. Expected a lot from the book and the disappointment is complete.

a.    Started on 27^th April and finished on 15^th May.

b.    Recommended by self

7.    Migrants – The Story Of All Of Us (Non-Fiction) by Sam Miller; A disruptive book. Throws a new idea that sedentarism is the outlier and the migrant is the norm. The current world’s polarized version of demonizing migrants and equating them with problems is laid bare for a thorough introspection. Written in an easy to read manner, and flitting between ancient Athenians to modern Mexicans, a timely read for the time we live in.

a.    Started on 16^th May and finished on 9^th June

b.    Recommended by Shilpa

8.    The Wager – A Tale Of Shipwreck, Mutiny and Murder (Non-Fiction) by David Grann; I had to check once again to see that it indeed is a Non-fiction. Imagine a shipwreck account written by Robert Ludlum and Desmond Bagley, this is one such. Fast narrative and it painted each scene as if you are watching a film already. The end – the deviousness of the Brits! A compelling read. Almost Lord of the flies in places and the scene where Byron’s dog is killed will leave you sleepless.

a.    Started on 10^th June and finished on 17^th June

b.    Recommended by The Guardian and Mihir.

9.    The Covenant Of Water (Fiction) by Abraham Verghese; Ever since I gifted this book to Mihir in 2023, I have been waiting to get my hands on the same. Bought one for myself in 2024 and got around to reading it now. A fan of his writing since the exemplary Cutting for Stone, this one did not disappoint either. Vast in scope and captivating prose. The last 5 chapters where everything comes together and the shattering climax that no one saw coming! A master at work. The dog Caesar is the only slip in my opinion.

a.    Started on 18^th June and finished on 22^nd July

b.    Recommended by Self

10. Mao – The unknown story (Non-Fiction) by Jung Chang and Jon Halliday; A must read to anyone interested in history. Butchers like Kang Sheng and Mme Mao; acolytes like Lin Biao and Chou En lai who traded their souls and paid the price. Countless others who were all used by Mao, elevated to impossible heights and then sacrificed to fuel his growth. Everything he touched turned to ashes. Only he could have converted unmitigated disasters like The Long March, The Great Leap and the Cultural Revolution into monumental milestones. Impossible to believe how heartlessly he created wars and famines, used USA against the USSR and the USSR against USA. Even more difficult to believe that those were naïve to assist his ambitions. A real MONSTER! Even if the authors do come across with an evident bias which reveals itself in many places, the full context can’t be faulted. If you are holding someone accountable for 70 million deaths, what could be the margin of error?

a.    Started on 23^rd July and finished on 23^rd November

b.    Recommended by Arko

11. Estuary (Fiction) by Perumal Murugan (Translated by Nandini Krishnan); We were shifting from Bosnia to Poland and the prompt packers packed away the Mao that I was reading and I started this while waiting for our luggage to arrive. An unusual Perumal Murugan book. Light hearted and with humor! The last three chapters blow your mind away. This man can write so real life, you often wonder if he spends his life observing someone else’s life as an invisible man. He is so spot on. The parody of the coaching institutes was hilarious. I found a new Tamil word for cheers. The translator has done a magnificent job in translating the words and the spirit. Perumal Murugan keeps delivering one stunning work after another.

a.    Started on 15^th September and finished on 27^th September

b.    Recommended by Self.

12.  Mother Mary Comes To Me (Memoir) by Arundhati Roy; Was traveling and having finished a book that I was reading, and with the luggage yet to arrive, it was an easy decision to pick this one up. A satisfying and a wonderful read. Such a complicated mother-daughter relationship. On reflection, I do feel that most relations are more than unidimensional. Her writing is so effortless and so “in-your-face”. She writes clearly conveying she owes nothing as an explanation to anyone. Already gifted it once. There will be a few more recipients for sure. Now, time to get back to Mao.

a.    Started on 28^th September and finished on 9^th October

b.    Recommended by Self.

13. Gods, Guns and Missionaries – The making of the modern Hindu identity (Non-Fiction) by Manu S. Pillai; What a precocious talent. And at such a young age! A book daunting in its scope but executed so effortlessly. The language is top notch and the wit, precious. Tracing the modern Hindu identity is a daunting task as one has to tiptoe carefully around potential landmines. Tracing them in a scholarly way, jumping between political movement and social movements (often against each other), starting from how missionaries identified an opportunity as well as how the same came to unite the Hindus later, gradually building the base and reaching conclusively to Tilak and Savarkar all have been done in an impeccable fashion. A historian with an eye on the details and wit at his disposal. Exceptional read.

a.    Started on 23^rd November and finished on 25^th December.

b.    Recommended by Self

14. A short history of tractors in Ukrainian (Fiction) by Marina Lewycka; It has been a long time since I read a good comedy novel. This one was hilarious. Read an article about it on The Guardian, found it on Allegro and it was delivered the next day. Outrageously funny, cleverly mixed Ukraine / Stalin / and family secrets. A satisfying read. This is not just a comedy novel but a clever laying of a complex history and another proof that laughter is often a means of tackling a complex family history. And in just 6 pages of War Baby and Peace Baby, the author explains more than volumes can possibly do. “ You see, Nadezhda, to survive is to win” is said so effortlessly towards the end, and it captures so much so beautifully.

a.    Started on 26^th December and finished on 29^th December.

b.    Recommended by The Guardian

15. The story about Vizier’s elephant (Fiction) by Ivo Andric; Bosnia is a lovely country, with a complex history and interesting people. I happened to spend 8 months of 2025 in that country exploring its many mountains and waterfalls. Ivo’s much acclaimed bridge on drina is bought and waiting to be read. This one is a sweet little book. He is a great observer of human behavior. A short and a quick read. This one description about people in general “those invisible multitudes who represent nothing, possess nothing” is so apt and timeless. Applies to any nation.

a.    Started on 29^th December and finished on 31st December

b. Gifted by Armina and hence counts as her recommendation.

This year too I merged my hobby of sketching to give an additional layer of personalization to my blog. The idea was given by my daughter who in fact picked it up from a random Twitter post. Thanks to Akshaya and the twitter handle @mrs_g_rider. Spend some time and zoom in on those names and sketches and characters……

See you all again in 12 months’ time.