Listen to this

I've hijacked this song lyrics from Ms Light Bulb. Lightbulb and I date back to 1996 and really became good friends circa 1998 when she coached the rest of us tone deafs to sing Innuendo's Belaian Jiwa on stage. We also had some really bizzare escapades together where we transported around RM20,000 cash to the bank by cab (don't ask, except that it was all legal), watched one of the worst movies I've ever seen in my life together ie Anaconda and ate cold satay in Fraser's Hill.

I love this lyrics by Maliq and d'Essentials (never heard of them before)...but it's just so dense and filled with all the angsty pain that accompanies the heartbreak of unrequited love:

ketika,

kurasakan sudahada ruang di hatiku yang kau sentuh

dan ketika, ku sadari sudah

tak selalu indah cinta yang ada

mungkin memang,

ku yang harus mengerti

bila ku bukan yang ingin kau miliki

salahkah ku bila

kau lah yang ada di hatiku

adakah ku singgah di hatimu,

mungkinkah kau rindukan adaku

adakah ku sedikit di hatimu

bila kah ku mengganggu harimu,

mungkin kau tak inginkan adaku

akankah ku sedikit di hatimu

bila memang, ku yang harus mengerti

mengapa cintamu tak dapat ku miliki

salahkah ku bilakau lah yang ada di hatiku

kau yang ada, di hatiku

bila cinta kita tak kan tercipta

ku hanya sekedar ingin tuk mengerti

adakah diriku, oh singgah di hatimu

dan bilakah kau tau, kau yang ada, di hatiku

kau yang ada, di hatiku

Misc

-I haven't been updating much these days. But life updates itself, work being the primary culprit. Not been doing much otherwise.

-My roses are blooming. Pink, light orange and a deep damask, almost slutty red. But this weather, I tell you is awful. We have been having rain, rain, rain for an interminable period of time now.

-Lots of other things happening as well- long haul trips happening real soon, a wedding and an anniversary. As a unit, M and I turn four very soon. Somtimes, its a great unit but other times, I feel like breaking every bone in his body.

-We are planning on watching the Mousetrap to celebrate. When I tell people, they just say, 'what, you haven't seen this show? I've seen it three/four/five times'. I know. I know. That is why we are actually going, finally.

-The plan was to be in Hereford this weekend beginning with a Baaba Maal concert and some exciting meet the writers sessions. But man plans, and God disposes. So, I am off on a work related *&%* which it seems cannot be avoided. I have reached the stage where I am really enjoying work but I just wish it wasn't so consuming like this. I need to get out of this rut soon. Like a friend mine says, karma will bring you to Hay-on-Wy* if you are meant to go. Some day, some day. Hopefully, friend and I get to go as planned, just that it will now happen in the future. Not this weekend (sniffle).

Cutty Sark in Flames

Isn't it sad that a national icon has been ravaged by an arson attack?





M and I love rambling around the area and further afield where the maritime museum is.

A sad, sad day.

Mid-year Book Audit

Wot, is it seriously going to be June soon?

To be honest, I am quite happy that the first half of 2007 is going to dissipate. It's been an extremely difficult few months and I want to really look forward to June.

XXX
It's an apt time I suppose to do a mid-year review of books read, loved and loathed.


1. Crime and Punishment by Dostoevsky
Full of dark passions. Felt like a criminal at the end of it.

2.The Labyrinth by Kate Mosse
Ho-hum. I wanted to turn the pages to know the propped up secret, which however evolved into a disappointment. I can't quite place this book though. I didn't hate it but it didn't do much either.



3. Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell
This was read while recuperating from surgery and hence had time out from work. I'm probably the last person to have read it – absolutely everyone seems to have devoured it. Verdict? Yeah, mind blowing in ambitiousness but at some level, I am not sure if I enjoyed it as much as I thought I would. There was also this hint of reincarnation thing going on which I think didn't quite work. Still, a writer with great dexterity.

4. Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto
Cute and disturbing (how weird is that?)

5.The Secret River by Kate Greenville
Australian history has been explored in many books but this one has a lyrical beauty to it. Not without its flaws, some bits plod on but overall good writing, capturing the heritage of guilt and sadness with numbing clarity.

6. Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimananda Ngozi Adichie
The best book I've read this year, so far. I cant sing enough praises. The dialogue leaps, the characters are unflinchingly alive and a story that rips your heart out. It explores the Biafra war- the war by starvation which Nigeria plunged into the mid-late 60s by looking at three central characters. My friend Sam who is an Ugwu (the tribe that was massacred) said that he cried reading it. So did I.

7. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck

Currently reading (part of my self imposed requirement of interspersing my reading with classics which have been missed over the years).

Non-Fiction

Lots of re-reading Between Facts and Norms by Jurgen Habermas, The Communitarian Persuasion by Philip Selznick, Global Capitalism (ed by Will Hutton and Anthony Giddens), Bounds of Justice by Onora O'Neill.

Misc

Oh, I also made some lovely tandoori chicken and lamb inspired by Ranjit Rai's delectable book Tandoor.

Photo Blogging

n/b too lazy to write a post.....

Adios Barcelona

So, after a few months being in the country which I believe is sufficient for my carbon offset, M and I were desperate for a holiday and we hopped to Barcelona. Was sad to leave after a lovely, languid holiday involving sun, tapas, paella, seafood, gothic architecture, Gaudi, Picasso, Dali, street dancing, Las Ramblas, Avenue Diagonal, Los Caracoles, more paella (that smelled like the sea).

we move but our words stand become responsible for more than we intended and this is verbal privilege

says Adrienne Rich.

XXX

The Namesake, the movie is better than the book. When I found out that they were making a movie of the book, I wasn't very keen. How would it translate, I thought? For a start, there wasn't much dialogue and most of the book was introspective reflections of the characters, particularly Gogol. But the movie reflects scriptwriting at its best- I loved how the character quirks have been fleshed, especially Ashima and Ashok. And Calcutta was another character as well.

I remember feeling the angst of Calcutta many years ago in Anita Desai's Voices of the City. There it was a city of desperation and pain. Now, in The Namesake, it is a Calcutta of coming and going, heaving and lurching, absence and longing. It's been a long time since I left a cinema hall feeling moved.

XXXX

I have been holed in at home a lot these days, working furiously. Inevitably have fallen into the routine of watching old TV re-runs at lunch time including Ally McBeal and Sex and the City. What strikes me is how male centred these shows are. Sure, the main characters are women and their friends and lives. These women are successful, beautiful and talented. And yet, their lives revolve only around men, the ones that they like, the ones that they think are cute, the ones that got away and broke their hearts. If these shows were such hits, do they reflect how women are wired? That life must revolve only around men?

I think one of the most progressive series on TV ever has been the Golden Girls. Bunch of girls living a full life with or without their men.

Time to reach out for Marilyn French, who talks about chic-lit type of books but the context is the same:

'Male character is less important than male centrality. In a male centred novel, the heroine clearly needs a man; whatever her fate, the male reader does not feel threatened since he knows she could be happy if only she had the love of a good man-one very like himself'

Introduction to the Woman's Room
Marilyn French

I think of my young cousins who read/watch this stuff and the kind of impact such shows and chic lit can have on them and shudder. I am not anti-man. I live with one and they are generally quite fulfilling (emotionally and physically) but the premise shoved to women of all ages in such literature and media is that without a man, life is somehow hollow and meaningless.

Time to burn all that chic lit? Too radical?

Top 10 books of all time

I hate lists of all kinds. I am one of those persons who goes grocery shopping without a list and always forgets the garlic/tomatoes/coriander (and ends up coming home with a horseradish). I am the one who forgets the toothbrush on the weekend away because she didn't make a list. In my final year exam in law school, I forgot to bring the Criminal Procedure Code and realized too late that I should have made a list the night before of all the things to take into the exam hall (one of the lecturers had an extra copy, no doubt in anticipation of nuts like myself).

I know people who make major decisions in life by sitting down and drawing a line marking Pros and Cons on a paper or computer. They are able to make life altering decisions based on such a list. I envy the method and precision that goes into such a task because it is something that eludes me. Most of the biggest decisions I make are ones that remain a congealed mess in my mind until I just decide.

I tried to do it once. I wanted to follow the rational and sensible path. Should I make the big career change that I wanted? A list will get me there, I thought. But as I drew the dividing line with a black marker on a fresh paper, I knew deep down that what I wanted would not be the most sensible thing to do. To leave a well paying job with all the prospects for the great unknown? I didn't know if what I wanted would make me happy or if it was right or where things would head after that. In all probability making a list would urge me to do otherwise. But in the hinterland of my heart, I knew what I wanted. I threw the piece of paper away.

I am a resolute non-list maker married to an assiduous one. The ever methodical M has lists for everything including a master list for travel which is filed according to event-weekend away, annual trip, short trips. I am kind of used to it though-I grew up with a whole load of Virgoans who made lists for everything under the sun.

It didn't daunt me then when Sharon Bakar put her loyal readers (me! me!) to task with the Star challenge for their Top 10 favourite books of all time. Here's mine:

The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

Lolita by Vladimir Nabakov

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie
Possession by A.S.Byatt
The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro
Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce

The Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger

There are a few must haves on the list like Old Man, Lolita, One Hundred Years of Solitude and Anna Karenina. Beyond that, Catcher in the Rye may be a bit esoteric but if it has touched so many young people and continues to do so, surely it must feature? Midnight's Children because it changed the feel, sound and soul of English as a language.

Portrait of the Artist was tossed around with other stream of consciousness novels notably To the Lighthouse but I chose this simply because it is my personal favourite. The Unbearable Lightness of Being had to be mentioned, being a paean to post-modernism. Possession because of its mastery and expanse. And the one book that leads me into the heart of nobility and restraint -The Remains of the Day.

Thinking Blogger

Kak Teh has given me a Thinking blogger award!!! I am not entirely sure if I deserve such an honour (suddenly I am gripped with thoughts of the quality of this blog. The thinking bit is often nothing more than a repository of rants and random spiel). But I am deeply touched that she thought this blog worthy enough to be mentioned. Hers is a friendship that emerged from blog-world and spilled easily into the real one. We exchanged a few emails and discovered that at that time, we worked in adjacent buildings in the Bloomsbury area. I was a bit apprehensive about the first meeting as I had seen her by-line many times in leading publications, a known no-nonsense, respected journalist. But all was quelled when I found her to be warm, kind, opinionated and fairly mad. And I also discovered in her a master storyteller who kept us mesmerized with anecdotes of her various adventures over the years. This is a friendship that continues to be cultivated over many a curry mee, nasi goreng and nescafe tarik.

So now I must set about tagging five more bloggers. This is a difficult task though a few names popped in my mind immediately. The problem is that I don't know some of these bloggers that I am going to mention- I have just started reading their blogs and haven't left a comment or exchanged any kind of contact. I just hope that they don't think of me as a random weirdo- I genuinely love these blogs and they also leave me with brain fodder.

1. Starlight : Starlight and I have become virtual friends. I always feel a sense of lightness emanating from her entries, how she is always striving to learn from all the life lessons that are thrown to her and the inner contemplativeness to always check herself, her thoughts and views. Of yoga journeys, introspections and always, exhaling.

2. Masalachaii: If there is one thing that strikes me about Ms Chai, its her infectious upbeat, fiery and kick-ass attitude. She is always doing doing something, going somewhere and learning something . Of maximum living and joie de vivre.

3. Amir Muhammad: He doesn't know me but through his blog, which has been a repository of his film work, I read about the trials and tribulations of making Komunis and Kampung, the political brouhaha and the ban on the movie as well as the new one, Apa Khabar Orang Kampung. I love that he never loses his sense of humour in all this and that he remains undefeated, moving on with his next project. Of history, sense of self and a certain up your a***

4. Nursamad: I've just started reading 3540 Jalan Sudin but it is such an addictive blog-opinionated, passionate and honest. The biggest draw are the stories about her father's imprisonment, the emotional journeys and the intersection with the larger political background during that period. Of politics, passion and family.

5. Ms Blabs : We have become firm friends now. What I love about her is her honestly written posts. Through her, I have traveled vicariously to Egypt and shared all the angsty adventures of moving to a new country. Of travels, learning and always, cats.

This award was started here:
And now my dear recipients, your award comes with a price. You have to award five others whose blog you think deserve this award.

Should you choose to participate, please make sure you pass this list of rules to the blogs you are tagging. The participation rules are simple:

1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think

2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme

3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote.

Please, remember to tag blogs with real merits, i.e. relative content, and above all - blogs that really get you thinking!

If you shed tears when you miss the sun, you also miss the stars

says Tagore. Writing is a catharsis of sorts.

XXXX

We sit in the half light of dusk. A few birds streak the purple-blue sky, rapidly disappearing from view. The crisp evening air chills the room. Somebody should get up and turn the heating on. But nobody does.

I hold on to my cream cable sweater, not thinking of putting it on. The tea my mother made has gone cold. The liquid that slides down my throat is unpleasant. It tinges my mouth with the slight acidic aftertaste of tea that has been left undrunk for too long.

Grief-numbed silence engraves the room. Opaque, dumb eyes stare at each other momentarily. We are still figures slumped on brown cushion chairs, watching the day sinking away. A few hours ago, a phone call comes through bringing results that breaks each one of us.

I place the phone down the receiver. It takes time for the news to be coherent. A numbness sets. An almost detached, clinical logic to the information. I am familiar with viable research projects. One that wins you grants, funding and jobs. Here, it is a question of a viable pregnancy. Of not being viable that is.

Suddenly, like a burst of molten lava, reality explodes. The tears come in a wrenching profusion.

Spring Again

"Suffering is not holding you. You are holding suffering. When you become good at the art of letting sufferings go, then you'll come to realize how unnecessary it was for you to drag those burdens around with you. You'll see that no one else other than you was responsible. The truth is that existence wants your life to become a festival."
-Osho

Spring brings with it renewed vigour, succour for the maligned heart and always, hope. The weather has been erratic but there have been days, even weeks, of glorious, honeyed sunshine. Spring's largess is the rebirth of colour after the grey starkness of the winter months.

Spring days are ones that are beautifully warm as you wake up. 'It's a T-shirt and skirt day', I decide, and throw in a flimsy cardi for good measure as I head out to the high street. A few hours later, the deception is done and I have foolishly fallen for it. The wind nips my nose. I shiver and cling on to the sorry excuse of a cardi and rush home freezing.

The evenings stave dusk away a little longer. The lightness is filtered with a prism of scents emanating from the garden, cajoling me to stop work and just be. The unfurling leaves and peeping flowers are a riotous medley. What have I done to be bequeathed days as beautiful as these?

Pause Mode and Weird Things

Life has been on pause mode for awhile now. You think it's a mad, crazy race. And then one day it gets on pause mode. Just like that.

But unpause now.

XXXXX

So, I must get around to this 6 weird thing meme that has been plastered on almost every blog. Thank god I got tagged- I dawned on me that what if nobody tags me (although I don't like tags)- does that reflect on my unpopularity in blogworld? Goodness. Almost feels like school again. But some nice people ie Blabs and Demonsinme did tag me and have therefore done my list:

1 The imaginary parallel lives I tend to live sometimes is quite mind boggling. Yesterday for example, I wondered how delectable it would be to live with Nigel Slater. I have a feeling that he is a bit of solitary nut, more in love with plants and his kitchen then people but how joyous would every meal be! It's not only about the taste but about the pure love for food. My recurring parallel-life dream is to be good friends with Zadie Smith, where we sit and have coffee in dinky little cafes while discussing our mutual love for Antonio Gramsci. I know. This one is weird-pathetic.

2 . I have certain food related weirdness. We all know that the grand food love of my love is the humble, hawker fare-char kueh teow. I can eat a plate everyday and never tire of it. I always order the whole she-bag, cockles, prawns and bean sprout or taugeh. Yet, before eating, I would sit and pick out every single strand of taugeh in sight. Only then will I tuck in. The aversion to taugeh started because I had an allergic reaction to it as a child. I think I've worn out of the allergy now but the ritual remains. 'Why not just order sans taugeh?' asks an exasperated M each time. 'But that would mean detracting the taste' I argue back, not very convincingly I think.

3. This one is weird bordering on obsessive compulsive-with minyak cap kapak...how do I describe it to non-Malaysians? Basically its a eucalyptus oil type of thing which has calming properties-I use it for headaches, tummy aches, backaches and even when there are no aches, I need a dash of eau de Minyak Cap Kapak everyday. What can I say?

4. I have to read every night before sleeping. I know I read a lot of work related stuff the whole day but I absolutely have to read on the bed. However dead exhausted I am. At least for 5 minutes. Otherwise, I feel that I've wasted my day away.

5. A personal hygiene related weirdness is this need to wash hands. I am very particular about the hand wash we use at home and have tested most products in the market to tell you that I don't think any of it meets my stringent requirements. Yes, I probably wash hands more times a day than I care to admit and carry one of those spray on hand cleaning things whenever I travel.

6. Talking about travel, I am always a last minute traveler. I think I am programmed to be unable to pack early so no matter how much time I have, will pack a few hours before leaving. This does mean that I am always rushing to airports and sprinting to boarding gates. The record was 30 minutes before take off once on a Malaysia airline flight to Bangalore. Trust me, I lost all dignity running around like a banshee to get there. And I never learn I think.

Joy and Sorrow

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, 'Joy is greater than sorrow,' and others say, 'Nay, sorrow is the greater'.
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

K.Gibran

You, Me and Tomato Chutney

Why this tomato livery?
a glance, a smile, a blush
and butterflies doing somersaults
add a dash
of adrenaline rush,
season with chemistry masala,
and there- tomato chutney for you.


Ah, Valentines day! A surge of superficial hallmark expressions, shops decked in tacky plastic

hearts and florists laughing their way to the bank.

Nevertheless, I know of a new couple and want to dedicate this post to my sister G and her Mr. R. The early throes of love with all its hourly phone calls, beating hearts, door slamming rows, dancing the night away and hot, opalescent tears in succession. Enjoy your days, it is something to remember after a few years of bed hair, duvet farts and love handles.

A Christmas Card day

There's a romance about a snow-clad day like today. A carpet of fresh snow greets my morning. A sudden hush envelopes the world. There's not a stir on the road outside, not even an intrepid squirrel. The reverential silence fills my heart with an inexplicable gladness.

The garden is a layer of white icing. Benevolent cotton clouds glisten on the shrubs. The old shed at the corner sits revived with a fresh white canopy. I saunter around, admiring the Christmas-card effect.

M and I use the transport chaos to work from home. At about 11ish, we get into a snow fight while making an out-of-shape snowman.

Then, I hear the laughter of children. A car or two zooms by.

It's one of those God's in His heaven, all's right with the world day.

A Red, Red Rose

For Burns Night

O, my Luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my Luve's like a melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair as thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:
I will love thess till, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run:

And fare thee well, my only luve!
And fare thee weel, a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho' it ware ten thousand mile.

No Method in Madness

Aye. It continues.

It's been sometime now since bloggers have launched a campaign against books that have been banned in Malaysia. The whole saga is a bit complex (there appears to be a few lists floating with different requirements) and it appears that Spongebob Squarepants, Vagina Monologues and Midnight's Children will cause mental depravation (and other various moral problems) to polite Malaysian society.

My friend Toro has quite another opinion about this whole thingamajig.

'Really no need for outragelah. The government-fella is really being clever. Now everbody is going to beg, borrow or steal a copy of any Salman Rushdie book. Maybe they will even start reading something like Things Fall Apart.'

'Don't you see?' continues Toro. 'It's the best reading campaign run by the government. Ever.'

Hmmm...does make sense in a way.

Things Fall Apart

as Malaysia turns 50 in 2007. Instead of sitting and celebrating like a regal doyen, there's an increasingly farcical accumulation of drama.

Bloggers being sued poses questions of constitutional freedom of speech and larger question of independence of the media. From what I gather, the New Straits Times (NST) is suing 3 political bloggers for defamation. What baffles me is that the NST is media. Old media suing new media.

I think a lot of us Malaysians have already resorted to reading news online because the print one has just become a political mouth piece. It saddens me because I grew up reading the NST everyday. I feel so cheated that a once august institution has to resort to such cheap tactics.

Of course, this doesn't mean that bloggers are not bound by the law. Surely bloggers cannot use the anonymity offered by the internet to write anything they want. The constitution protects fundamental liberties within reasonable limits. There are boundaries. But within these boundaries lies the future of the country. Freedom of press and speech is suspect in Malaysia. This is no secret. Political blogging and the internet has been a natural spill over in this climate, an attempt to bridge the need for information.

Until there's political will to change, the boundaries by which Malaysia's future resides will be very bleak indeed.

Brown paper packages tied up with strings

Two books arrived on a crisp morning in a brown package. My New Year cum Birthday gift to myself. Utterly perfect.

In Feast, Nigella says this:

Feast is not just about the way we cook and eat at the great religious festivals or big-deal special occasions, but about how food is the vital way we celebrate anything that matters-a birthday, a job, an anniversary; it's how we mark the connections between us, how we celebrate life.

Nigel Slater makes food, the buying, cooking and eating a homage to earth and to life:

There is a single rose out in the garden, a faded bundle of cream and magenta petals struggling against grey boards. A handful of snowdrops peeps out from the ivy that has taken hold amongst the fruit trees. The raspberry canes are bare save the odd dried berry I have left for the birds, and the bean stems stand brown and dry around thier frames. A withered verbena's lemon-scented leaves stand crisp against a clear, grey sky. January 1st is the day I prune the tangle of dried sticks in the kitchen garden, chuck out everything over its sell by date from the cupboards, flick through seed catalogues and make lists of what I want to grow and eat in the year to come. I have always loved the first day of the year. A day ringing with promise.

I bought these two books to remind myself that in 2007, I want to celebrate life every day. So often, I am caught up with the whole grind of living and working that I end up forgetting to LIVE. Forget all this c'est la vie business. The journey, as they, say is the best part after all. That's kind of resolution cum birthday dictum for the year.

So, I turned 31 quietly. Feels awfully grown up. I made 31 wishes and sent them out to the universe. At the end of the day, life is about balance and I do think everything has a way of finding its own rhythm. So, there's also a sense of letting go because you always get what you deserve.

I think each of us have our own word for the principle behind this, whether we call it serendipity, karma, justice, kismet. Same thing to me.

10 Books in 2006

In Paris, I managed to spend a few hours at Shakespeare & Co. It was as higgedly piggedly and quirky as I imagined it would be, oozing with books on every crevice. You have to take a creaking, narrow wooden stairs to get upstairs for the library and where so many bibliophiles, homeless and waywards have sheltered over the years. The walls bear the signature and pictures of the many famous persons who have been there.

Now, for my annual book audit.

I didn't read many non-work related stuff this year but here are my best reads, more non-fiction though. None of these books are new 2006 editions by any chance but these are the ones that I picked up. Some really old books, some which was one last years hit list, some which I always wanted to read and finally managed to. Here are the memorable ones that I particularly enjoyed:

Non-Fiction

No Logo by Naomi Klein. I finally get hold of this and she doesn't disappoint. We are assaulted by logos- Nike, McDonalds, Tesco, Shell. The corporate hegemony sneaks into our lives and affects us in much more sinister ways than we think says Klein. Not without flaws but at many levels, compelling.

Development as Freedom by Amartya Sen. Poverty is not so much a matter of low income as deprivation of human capabilities says Sen. Deep exploration of liberal economics with real, stark examples. Although I don't always agree with him, it is a remarkable book because Sen takes developmental economics out of theoretical quagmire and places it within communities and asks searing questions.

The Silent Takeover by Noreena Hertz. If you want to read one book about how corporations are perversely changing the world, this is it. How many of us vote? Not many argues Hertz. But we are all consumers driven by multinationals that have taken over the world. Scary but true.

Capitalism and Slavery by Eric Williams was a former Prime Minister of Trinidad & Tobago and wrote this book depicting the profits made through the slave trade. What made slavery end in Britain was not so much awareness of human rights but a matter of cutting losses. You know the fancy Lloyds building in the City? That's built on slave sweat.

Bali, Jawa in my Dreams by Christine Jorges. A travel book with humour and pathos.

Toast by Nigel Slater. I remember buying this in Heathrow out of desperation as the book in hand (I can't remember what now) was driving me insane. Bittersweet memories of growing up angst and the food that accompanied over the years. Absolutely delish. I heart Nigel Slater.


Fiction

Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami. Weird, quirky philosophy spanning analysis of Adolf Eichmann, talking cats to raining mackerals. Vintage Murakami.

What the Body Remembers. I absolutely had to read it, after the glowing recommendation of Ms 30in2005. Partition seen from a woman's perspective, from a Sikh viewpoint and a human face. Shauna Singh is a delicate writer and I will look forward to her other books.

On Beauty by Zadie Smith. The best book I read this year. There are some comic loose ends that are a tad too perfect but overall, its such a nuanced book deserving many superlatives. With Gramscian undertones, philosophical tug-of-war and mostly, dysfunctional families.

The Sea by John Banville. Written in a languid, immaculate style. Heart rending.

Book related resolution: Read more fiction and make an attempt at reading more books from the banned books list.

Now, have to contemplate and do some emotional audit.

Happy New Year everybody. See you in 2007!!!