Shaving Cream – Do we really need it?

In July 2009, I had gone on holiday to Russia. As I always do when I travel, whether on work or for pleasure, I carried with me a small blue toilet case, which has all the toiletries I need while on tour in “check-in luggage friendly” sizes. However, when I unzipped the case in Moscow, I realised that after my previous trip, I had thrown away the empty tube of shaving gel and hadn’t replaced it. Rather than cry over the missing item, I rather stolidly wet my face, lathered my palms with the toilet soap provided by the hotel, liberally applied it to my face and ...... started shaving. There was no pain or any discomfort. What was more, I thought I could shave better, because unlike traditional shaving creams and gels, which are very foamy, the lather from toilet soap merely covers your face with a thin transparent film. For the whole of that trip, I relied on plain toilet soap to get the stubble off my face.

After that trip was over I went back to shaving the way I usually did – which was to lather my face from a gargantuan can of shaving foam. However, when it was time to buy another ozone-busting can, I took a brave decision, one that I have not regretted so far. I started shaving the way I had in Moscow and St. Petersburg, with lather generated from a toilet soap. And it made no difference to the end result. What was more, the actual shave was easier for reasons mentioned above.

Which brings me to the question posed in the title of this piece. Is shaving cream really necessary for a shave? Can it provide a benefit which toilet soap cannot? Other than being foamy and more fragrant, is shaving cream any different from ordinary soap? Have a few generations of men from all over the world been misled by manufacturers into buying something they don’t need? Come to think of it, adverts for shaving cream don’t really address any of these questions, do they? And finally, if shaving cream is a waste of money, what of shaving brushes which, when I last checked, cost a small fortune?

The Happy Associate by Urja – A Book Review

Spending most of your waking life in an office doing a white collar job is a relatively new phenomenon for human beings. For many thousands of years, our ancestors hunted in forests and tilled the land. The industrial revolution forced many Western Europeans and later North Americans to suddenly adapt to a life regulated not by sunrise and sunset or the crowing of cockerels, but by the factory foreman’s watch. India started industrialising much after the West and most Indian genes (like mine) switched from country-life to a post-industrial lifestyle without having to undergo the trauma of working long hours in a factory’s production line.

Not much creative juice has been spilled in portraying or caricaturing white-collar lifestyles. At least not as much as has been wasted over war or love or crime. There are exceptions of course. Dilbert comes to mind first. And his colleague Asok (sic). Recently I read and reviewed a book “In Office Hours” by the celebrated British journalist Lucy Kellaway which takes a very detailed look at modern day corporate lifestyles

However, there has been a total absence of Indian writing on this subject. Total absence until Urja (a pseudonym) took up the pen and wrote The Happy Associate. A delightful book of 114 mid-sized pages, The Happy Associate shines a light on Kirti, a not-so-delightful metrosexual (male) tax expert in his mid-twenties who works for an accounting firm in Delhi. Kirti has taken the metrosexual train so far beyond that he seems to spend most of his time at the hair dresser’s and cries when he doesn’t have a date for the weekend. The office culture is very much (non-MNC) Indian. First names are rarely used (peers use nick-names), the boss is called Sir and attendance seems to be mandatory at the office Holi-party.

Having worked in offices which demanded near-total sacrifice of employees’ lives and having co-existed with colleagues in an environment where scheming and plotting is a part of daily life, so much so that not only does one take it for granted, but also enjoys it to a limited extent, I immediately recognised various characters and mini-plots in The Happy Associate. Urja’s writing, elegant at all times, is also very smooth and when she slips into Indian office lingo, one hardly notices.

Kirti wants to tame and wed the arrogant Mandira, his colleague at work. Whether he manages to do so forms the main focus of this book, which ends with a surprising twist. However, because Urja puts in so much effort in caricaturing Kirti and telling her readers of his peccadilloes, one (at least I did) ceases to care whether Kirti succeeds or not. In other words, Kirti doesn’t evoke too much sympathy. This is the only notable negative in what is otherwise a very good read.

As mentioned earlier, this book is not very long, a novella more than a novel and can be read in a couple of hours’ time. I would rather not say any further and spoil your fun in reading this for yourself.

“Pakistan” published by Granta: A Book Review

This collection consists of a number of articles, short stories, poems and even photographs of Pakistan. I got a free copy of this book when I attended a Pakistan themed Granta event a few months ago in London, but managed to finish reading it only now.

“Leila in the Wilderness” is a short story by Nadeem Aslam which shows the extremes to which human cruelty and capriciousness can be stretched on account of a deadly mix of religion, ignorance and feudalism. In this case, the villains are a landlord husband and his mother and the main victim is child bride Leila who is subjected to sadistic violence on account of her inability to bear a son. It’s fine writing by Aslam, though Aslam has taken his share of the fiction writer’s licence.

“Portrait of Jinnah” is an excellent sketch of Jinnah by Jane Perlez, Pulitzer Prize winning correspondent for the New York Times, who has covered Pakistan for the last three years. Perlez’s 9 page article does a better job of sketching Jinnah than Jaswant Singh’s 669-page tome on Jinnah. In particular, Perlez gets closer (than Jaswant Singh) to answering the following questions: Did Jinnah really want partition or was he merely bargaining for greater autonomy and concessions for the sub-continent’s Muslims? Could partition have been avoided if the Congress and Nehru had pushed back harder and conceded more? Did Jinnah envisage a Muslim majority Pakistan where all minorities would be free to practice their religions or did he want a theocracy? Please read this excellent article to reach within guessing range for the answers to these questions.

“Kashmir’s Forever War” by Basharat Peer (author of Curfewed Night, a memoir of the Kashmir Conflict and a fellow of the Open Society Institute in New York) is a reasonably fair and even handed account of the agitation in the Kashmir valley, as seen through the eyes of a Kashmiri. In addition to tracing the history of the violence in Kashmir, Peer tries to explain why teenagers have launched a Palestinian-intifada style stone-throwing agitation in the valley.

“Ice, Mating” by Uzma Aslam Khan, is one of those modern stories, set in various parts of the globe, which, though very well written, wasn’t exactly to my liking. “Butt and Bhatti” by Mohammed Hanif (author of A Case of Exploding Mangoes) on the other hand, is a modern story (with a story) which was to my liking. I’ll leave it to you to read these stories and decide for yourselves whether they are any good.

“The House by the Gallows” by Intizar Hussain is an excellent piece on how Zia-ul-Haq introduced fundamentalist thought and values into Pakistan. For those who don’t know (with apologies to those who do and who will be offended by this basic introduction) Intizar Hussain was born in what is now the Indian state of Uttar Pradesh in 1923 and migrated to Pakistan after Partition. He is the recipient of the Sitara-i-Imtiaz, Pakistan’s third highest civilian honour. Hussain writes in Urdu and his piece has been translated into English by Bhasharat Peer. I once read a collection of short stories by Hussain and his writing reminded me of Vaikom Mohammad Basheer’s.

In addition to articles and short stories, there are poems galore. “Trying Tripe”, a poem by Daniyal Mueenuddin, (author of In other rooms, Other Wonders) is the best of the lot. “Life and Time” is a very thought provoking poem by Hasina Gul, almost equally good. “PK 754” by Yasmeen Hameed didn’t impress me as much as the other two.

Bang in the middle of this book, are a number of excellent photographs provided by Green Cardamom, a London based not-for-profit organisation, which specialises in international contemporary art viewed from the sub-continent’s perspective. Titled “High Noon”, these pictures are preceded by a thought provoking foreword by Hari Kunzru.

“Arithmetic on the Frontier” by Declan Walsh (Guardian’s correspondent for Pakistan and Afghanistan) is an exciting narration of how Pashtuns live, feud, fight and die in Lakki Marwat, an impoverished district in Pakistan, close to the border with Afghanistan. The focus is on Anwar Kamal, a lawmaker who hails from Lakki Marwat and belongs to the Marwat tribe, The Marwats are hardcore Pashtuns, but they have elected to not to toe the Taliban’s line. As a consequence, Walsh explains how on 1 January 2009, a suicide bomber detonated himself during a volleyball match causing 97 deaths among the Marwats. As this report shows, such attacks continue to take place in Laki Marwat even now.

“A Beheading” is a very gripping and very short story by Mohsin Hamid (author of the Reluctant Fundamentalist). It is about, ahem, ahem…… a beheading. Do read it, unless you are the squeamish sort, you know what I mean?

“Pop Idols” by Kamila Shamsie is an article about how Islamic fundamentalism has affected music, especially pop music in Pakistan, Interesting stuff, it is.

“Restless” by Aamer Hussein (author of Insomnia and Another Gulmohar Tree, lives in London) is about the author’s restlessness when he moved from Pakistan to London as a teenager in the 1970s.

“Mangho Pir” is an excellent account of the Sheedi (Siddhi in India) community by Fatima Bhutto. Yes, Pakistan is racist towards black people, even if they are Muslims. I do know for a fact that this community faces similar issues in India.

“White Girls” by Sarfraz Manzoor is an account of the narrator’s search for a companion. The narrator lives in the UK and has been brought up to believe that white girls can only bring misery to a man of Pakistani origin. Surely he cannot fall for one?

On 1 May 2010, Faisal Shahzad, an American citizen of Pakistani origin tried to detonate a car bomb at Times Square. He failed. But why on earth did he want to do that? Shahzad was the son of a very senior Pakistani Air Force officer, who was liberal. Lorraine Adams and Ayesha Nasir examine this incident and its background in the “The Trials of Faisal Shahzad”. An incisive piece for sure.

“The Sins of the Mother” by Jamil Ahmad (a civil servant who has served in the Pak embassy in Kabul) is the last piece and the best short story in this collection. Like the current state of affairs in Pakistan, it ends on a very depressing note.

Writing a Spy Novel - When the Snow Melts

I have something exciting to announce:

Amaryllis, an imprint of Manjul Publishing, has agreed to publish my novel ‘When the Snow Melts ’.

When the Snow Melts is a spy novel. A thriller. At least, that’s the expectation – that it’ll thrill.

I have always wanted to write a spy novel, though it took me a long time to screw up the courage to even start thinking about writing one. My first novel Hitchhiker was largely based on what I had observed around me and to be honest, did not require much research. It took me a year to write Hitchhiker. When the Snow Melts took me a year as well. However, the research that preceded the writing took me a couple of years. With a spook as its lead protagonist, I had to find out a lot of things before I could even get a fix on the plot. You see, spies are human beings, but they do things very differently, don’t they? As for the organisations which send them out with a licence to kill, they are secretive organisations and do not really like to divulge much information about themselves.

In the next few months, I expect to be working with Amaryllis and its Head of Publishing Sanjana Roy Choudhury in editing my manuscript and getting it ready for publication. For this reason and because I am changing jobs and moving back to India (after over 8 years in the UK), I expect to be able to blog a lot less than I do currently. Please bear with me.

Book Review: A Tika for Jung Bahadur – Selected Short Stories by Jug Suraiya

There’s a world accessible only to a very small number of Indians, a privileged few whose parents have the money, foresight and ambition to send their children to public schools. No, I am not talking of your convent-across-the-road where lower middle-class and middle class children learn to speak in Pidgin English, but of top of the mill public schools that offer an education unchanged since the days of the Raj. This world is brought to us by Jug Suraiya, leading Indian journalist and cartoonist (Dubyaman) whom Khushwant Singh once referred to as India’s Art Buchwald, in the form of his short stories, a compilation of which has been published by the Times Group.

There are twelve stories in all and each of them is either set in a public school or involves characters who behave like products from a public school. The net effect of this atmosphere is to transport the reader to a world located within India, but is not really Indian. For example, one of the stories, The Word, is set in a small unknown Indian town and its main protagonist is a night watchman. There are unusual events taking place in this town and readers are kept in a state of anticipation till the end. However, Suraiya’s manner of narration (The Mayor said, ‘Good Man,’) makes you feel that either the town is located in the West or the story has been narrated by a Westerner.

The best story in the entire collection is undoubtedly the Badger. I remember reading this many, many (ten or even fifteen) years ago and enjoying it as much as I enjoyed re-reading it now. The story of a teacher at a public school in the mountains, the Badger is narrated by a master craftsman who has spent a considerable amount of time in a public school and does not know of a world outside it. There is drama, there is suspense and there is a happy ending which is realistic without succumbing to the pitfalls of melodrama.

A Premature Ghost is a ghost story with a difference, though the crux of the plot is given away on the back cover (they shouldn’t have done that). I’ll leave it to you to read it and find out for yourself.

The lead story, A Tika for Jung Bahadur, is representative of most of the other stories in this collection. It is well-written in a literary style that is flowery and poetic though at times the narration appears to be contrived. However, the ending is rather tame despite the considerable amount of initial suspense. In a few of the stories, the plots creak and don’t hold water. On balance, this collection is a worthwhile read if only for the Badger and the general ‘public school’ atmosphere.