Ladies on and off the court

Passion India (Full Circle, Rs 295) by Javier Moro is “the story of the Spanish Princess of Kapurthala”. Anita Delgado was seventeen when she got married to the wealthy Maharajah of Kapurthala, albeit under not-so-normal circumstances. The journey from Madrid’s Puerta del Sol to Kapurthala — both literally and figuratively — was a long, and eventful, one. It is easy to see why Moro could not resist the urge to produce a novel out of his material, primarily Anita’s diaries. The fascination with the Maharajah myths, however, cannot be missed.

The Penguin-Landmark Quiz Book (Rs 199) by Derek O’Brien, Gautam Padmanabhan and Navin Jayakumar compiles the questions asked at the Landmark quizzes in 2004 and 2005, both in Bangalore and Chennai. Clearly, the format has changed, since 2004 has main, buzzer and speed rounds, while 2005 has questions under various specialist subjects and mixed bag. Some of the questions on the specialist subjects are a bit of an insult to the intelligence of the quizzard who has read reams and reams to gain a fair amount of expertise on these subjects. One example, from “Shakespeare’s Tragedies” will suffice: “Which tragedy of Shakespeare deals with the children of the feuding Montague and Capulet families?”

A Life Less Ordinary (Zubaan and Penguin, Rs 195) by Baby Halder is a book that inspires readers in an age that habitually churns out “inspirational books”. But to call Baby Halder’s tale — originally published as “Aalo Andhari” in Hindi — as merely inspirational will not do. It has almost every element of the subaltern life of 20th century India, and as such, is more insightful than several tomes of scholarly work put together. Like all true tales of struggle, there is no attempt to sentimentalize, not even while relating the harrowing case of Panna’s wife, whom Panna set on fire in a fit of drunken rage. Baby’s love of the written word makes her defy all odds. But it also makes us realize that most of subaltern India has stories to tell which are far from ordinary.

No Onions No Garlic (Penguin, Rs 295) by Srividya Natarajan is a hilarious romp through Tam-Brahm life on and off the campus of Chennai University. Amandeep, Murugesh, Rufus and Sundar are young lads who are cast as fairies by Professor Ram in the college production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. When the bard meets caste-conscious, Hindu-till-we-die Tam-Brahms, the encounter can only be compared to the Jagadambal Jump-Start Your Day instant idlis that Mrs Ram believes is the answer to a housewife’s prayer. Professor Ram — or for that matter any prof who happens to teach Shakespeare to Chennai brats — is sure to be the butt of class jokes. The novel is full of such harmless high-school nonsense: “On Professor Ram we are depending/ His efforts are never ending/ To save our precious Indian culture/ From all who attack it like a vulture.

He will restore our Hindu glory/ And reconstruct each Sanskrit story./ In sport, art and refluxology,/ We’ll hold our heads up without apology.” Difficult to imagine, but there’s a tiny mystery thrown in too.

Homemakers Without the men (Indialog, Rs 195) by Wasbir Hussain is the fruit of a media fellowship during which the author worked on “Assam’s widows of violence”. Hussain gives a short yet comprehensive background of Assam’s “little wars” (or low-intensity conflicts) within which he locates his subjects — Anita Mashahary, Kamrun Nissa, Lakshi Hembrom, Miliki Baruah, Bharati Kalita and others — and their larger-than-normal share of suffering. Their silences speak louder than the rattle of guns in battle.