Focus on the present

This festive season gift everyone experiences rather than things

 

Is your dining table beginning to get crowded with enormous dabbas of mithai and dry fruit? Do you now have a glut of scented candles and diyas littering your sideboard? And are you starting to get inundated with every kind of baked good imaginable? If the answer to any (or all) of these questions is yes, then welcome to the pre-Diwali period, when everyone is so busy sending out celebratory hampers that it becomes difficult not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

 

Finding myself in something of the same situation, I decided (entirely in the public interest, you understand) to draw up a list of all the things that could work as Diwali gifts – and not leave the receiver completely unimpressed. So, here’s just some pointers; feel free to add anything you feel I may have missed out on.

 

·       Books are always the perfect present, though they can get a little tricky if you are not sure of the other person’s tastes (or indeed if they already have a particular book). So, the next best thing is to offer a gift card for your favourite book store or even an Amazon gift card so that the receiver can choose something that works for him or her. 

·       Another thing that you can’t really go wrong with is skincare. Choose a brand that suits your packet and put together a basket of sweet-smelling shower gel, face cream, moisturizer, or whatever takes your fancy. Stick a few flowers on the basket and you have a gift that is both pretty and pretty useful.

·       I love receiving little pot plants on Diwali so I am going to go out on a limb here and say that they qualify as desirable presents. Just one caveat though: please don’t give away fancy bonsai arrangements or terrariums that come with a dozen complicated instructions for maintenance. Just send out plants that are near-impossible to kill and everyone will be happy.

·       Gifting experiences rather than things works as well – especially with close friends and family, whose preferences you are familiar with. It could be a gift coupon for a spa treatment, a haircut or a massage. As long as it feels like a special experience, it is always welcome. 

·       Sometimes it works to be a little utilitarian as well. If you know that your friend has an expensive Nespresso habit, then gifting her a six-month – or yearly, if you’re feeling generous – supply of coffee capsules will earn you plenty of brownie points (and a nice cup of coffee too, for good measure).

·       But if you are the traditional kind and insist on a good old-fashioned Diwali hamper, then here’s a pointer of some things that work well: a nice bottle of extra-virgin olive oil; a bottle of good red wine or whiskey; a small box of kaju katli; a colourful toran for its symbolic value; and a beautifully-designed diya that can do duty even after the festival of lights has come and gone. 

 

The author as rock star

It only ever happens at the Jaipur Literary Festival

A literary festival is where authors come to feel like stars. But when they want to feel like rock stars, they come to the JLF. And if you have ever attended the Jaipur Literary Festival (JLF) you will know why. This is where you will find authors of every ilk (historians, scientists, economists) encompassing every genre (spy thrillers, literary novels, biographies, autobiographies) from all over the globe coming together in the Pink City to paint it (entirely metaphorically) red. 

Last year, I attended as an author-speaker to talk about my novel, Madam Prime Minister, and moderated a few sessions. This year, I was there with my Spectator hat on. And so, for the benefit of those of you who weren’t in attendance, here are some of my impressions. 

• When you are at the JLF, it is hard to feel pessimistic about the future of reading. The place is crawling with young people (some of them still in their school uniforms) who don’t just love books; they live and breathe them. They crowd the bookshop, looking for titles and authors they admire and for those that they have yet to discover. They line up with patient good humour to get their books signed at the end of every session. And they have intelligent conversations about books with everyone who is willing to engage. 

• Actually, truth be told, at the JLF, it is easy to feel optimistic about the future in general. This is a place where the right wing and the liberal wing can debate in a civilised manner; where there is space for every opinion across the political spectrum, so long as it is expressed with respect and decorum. And where disagreements are treated not as mortal threats but as an inevitable part of life, to be both embraced and examined. The JLF proves that civility can and does exist in political debate - even if it is missing in our TV studios. 

• There are all kinds of literary stars  in attendance at the JLF. And then, there is Shashi Tharoor. It would be no exaggeration to say that Shashi is the Shah Rukh Khan of the literary world. And nowhere is this more obvious than here, where Tharoor is surrounded by a ring of over-muscled bouncers wherever he goes, such is the hysteria of the selfie-seekers who hound him. His sessions are always standing room only. And woe betide the author who is unfortunate enough to have a session scheduled the same time as Tharoor. He or she will have to sit in a half-empty hall, while the audiences surges to listen to Shashi. (I should know; last year, I was one of these unfortunate authors!)

• Books are the main attraction here, for sure. But people-watching comes a close second. There is such a cross-section of humanity here that you can be entertained for hours just watching the crowds. There are the grey-haired worthies, who always sit in the front rows and clamour to ask questions at the end of every session. There are the young girls who have turned out in their Sunday best, teetering along on heels that were not made for walking on lawns. There are the journalists, scurrying after ‘celebrities’, trying to coax a ‘quote’ out of them for their papers and digital outlets. And then, there are the authors themselves, trying gamely to navigate the kind of attention they hardly ever get in the real world. It’s as good as watching a show. 

• And then, there are the parties: held in one impossibly glamorous Jaipur location after another every night, culminating in the Writers Ball, which ends the Festival. There is music; there is dance; and so much fun is had by all. And then, it’s time to pack away those glittering outfits, until it’s time to play at being rock stars again the following year. 

Turn the pages

The funny thing about books is that there is one for every mood, every season - and every locale

It has become a ritual of sorts. Before I set off on holiday, I gather all my book recommendations (from friends, newspapers and magazines, or even from social media), make a short list and then download around five or six books on my Kindle in the hope that they will see me through my vacation. 

This time I was heading to the Maldives and needed something that I define loosely as beach reading. In my case, that usually means a cracking murder mystery, with a plethora of suspects, a couple of twists that I don’t see coming, and a killer (sometimes literally) denouement. 

So it was that I settled down on my sun lounger and clicked on a book cover that read The First Day of Spring. It had been highly recommended by two of my favourite authors, Clare Mackintosh and Paula Hawkins, and I was all set to be hooked. A couple of chapters down, though, I began to get a queasy feeling. This was not the comforting murder mystery that I was looking for. This was a horrific story about an eight year old girl who kills a two year old baby boy. As the sun grew warmer on my back, the story in front of me got darker and darker. And even though I could tell this was a good book, it was a bad book to read on the beach. So, I clicked it shut (telling myself I would finish it back home in Delhi) and opened the tried and tested Anthony Horowitz. This one, A Twist Of The Knife, was a story about murder as well but in the Agatha Christie genre in which nothing particularly gruesome happens and the plot is resolved to everyone’s satisfaction after a few twists and turns. 

See, that’s the thing about books. There is one for every mood, for every season and every locale — and indeed for every holiday. 

The last time I visited Venice, for instance, I set myself the task of re-reading every Donna Leon I possessed before I set out. Her murder mysteries are set in Venice and I had the greatest time following her detective, Commissario Guido Brunetti, as he sets out from his home to go shopping in the Rialto, eats tramezzini in small cafes along the way, interrogates suspects in Castello and Dorso Duro and pays a visit to his aristocratic in-laws in their palazzo overlooking the Grand Canal. I pored over the maps of Venice included in the books until I could find my way in the city as easily as Brunetti himself. 

It all paid off once I arrived in Venice. I knew my way around like a local, knew which touristy areas to avoid and where I could find the best food and drink. And all because I took the time to read an author who lives and breathes Venice. 

I had similarly immersed myself in Peter Mayle’s Provence series of books (start with A Year In Provence and work your way up) before heading out there for a vacation. Even though his books are written from the perspective of a man who has moved into a new place and is trying to make himself at home there, there was enough in the books to give me a flavour of the region and to get me in the mood to sample some tapenade and pastis.

I often wonder which books I would recommend to people who were visiting India for the first time and wanted to get familiar with it before they arrived on shores. Well, here’s a short list, if it helps. Those visiting Mumbai can’t go wrong with Suketu Mehta’s Maximum City, which gives an accurate flavour of that megapolis. If you are trying Delhi for the first time then William Dalrymple’s City of Djinns is a good place to start. And if you are heading to Jaipur then get a sense of the history of the place with John Zubrzycki’s The House of Jaipur.

But wherever you are headed, remember to pack some books that are just right for that place. Trust me, it will make your holiday even better. 

The book's the thing

Here are a few titles to take you through to summer

 

There is something so thrilling about a bookshop, isn’t it? There are all those authors waiting to be discovered, all those titles ready to be devoured, and a hundred different worlds that you can lose yourself in. For me, the high point of any trip to a great city is a leisurely trawl through all the book stores it has to offer. And last fortnight, that city was Singapore and the bookstore, Kinokuniya, one of my all-time favourites.

 

The first thing I discovered on the shelves was the latest Elizabeth George, titled Something To Hide, which came out last month, but whose release I seemed to have missed. I snatched it up and eagerly read the synopsis of the plot, happy to discover that this was another Inspector Lynley mystery. This was the perfect read for the flight back to Delhi, I thought. 

 

There was only one problem. This was an absolute doorstopper of a book and lugging it on to a flight seemed a bit of a challenge. So, with utmost reluctance, I put the physical book back and later downloaded it on my Kindle – with due apologies to all good bookstores anywhere.

 

But, I consoled myself later, it was the book that was important, not the form in which I read it. And if it’s reading that matters to you as well, here are some suggestions from among the books I have enjoyed over the past few months. Read them in any format that works for you – satisfaction guaranteed.

 

Something To Hide by Elizabeth George

 

This is vintage Elizabeth George, a murder mystery that is about so much more than murder or mystery. The theme that George tackles this time is the harrowing subject of female genital mutilation (FGM) that is ostensibly outlawed but practiced on the quiet by some among the Nigerian and Somali community in London. The murder victim, a police officer, has been ‘cut’ as well as a child though this fact only surfaces after her death. And the investigation into her death reveals so much more than just the identity of her killer.

 

Silverview by John Le Carre

 

Published after its author’s death, this has been touted as the last ‘completed’ masterpiece from Le Carre’s pen. This has all his usual hallmarks: there is a Smiley-type character (complete with unfaithful wife) who has been tasked with ferreting out secrets from an old retired MI6 hand. And there is a young investment banker turned bookshop owner who finds himself caught between these two spymasters. This is a splendid read in the Le Carre tradition but the somewhat abrupt end makes me wonder if the manuscript was ever, in fact, ‘completed’.

 

Apples Never Fall by Liane Moriarty

 

When Joy Delaney, a 60-something mother of four, goes missing, suspicion alights on her husband, Stan. It doesn’t help that Stan looks as if he’s been in a fight, though he insists it was only with a hedge. But as her disappearance lengthens, the children start to questions his protestations of innocence, and old family fractures come to the fore. Domestic drama has always been Moriarty’s strength but this book also works as a study of the everyday violence that women face.

 

The Christie Affair by Nina de Gramont

 

It is the one mystery that Agatha Christie never solved. And that’s because she lived it. In December 1926, the mystery writer packed a small attache case and drove away from her home. Her car was later discovered in a ditch, leading to speculation that she may have killed herself, heartbroken because her husband, Archie, had announced that he wanted a divorce to marry his mistress. Christie was discovered living in a hotel a week later but she never spoke – or wrote – about this period in her life. So, this is the next best thing: a speculative take on what might have happened.

 

Both Of You by Adele Parks

 

Two women, who seem to have nothing in common, disappear in the same week. Both their husbands claim to be distraught, and insist that they know nothing of why their wives have gone missing. So, what went wrong? Did the women leave on their own? Were they taken by someone? When the investigation throws up a link between the two women, the story takes an unexpected turn with a twist you won’t see coming.

 

Page-turners

Here’s a list of the books that have kept me entertained over the last month

The best news I have had in months is that Bahrisons, my go-to bookshop in Khan Market, has opened a new branch in Delhi – yes, in the middle of a pandemic, no less. If this isn’t confirmation enough that the book market is thriving then I don’t know what sign would suffice to convince doubters that reading is a more popular activity than ever before.

I guess we have Coronovirus to thank for that. Having being stuck in our homes for months, with nowhere to go and no one to see, many of us have rediscovered our love of books and of reading. When the world around you is stressful and fatiguing, there is nothing quite as relaxing as opening a book and disappearing into an alternate universe that demands nothing more of you than a willingness to engage.

I should know. I have been indulging in my fair share of escapism over these last few months, finding shelter in old books that have the comfort of familiarity, seeking to expand my horizons by rooting out new and unfamiliar works, and begging friends and family for book recommendations when I run out of titles.

Well, today I am returning that favour by recommending some books that I have read recently. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.

Troubled Blood by Robert Galbraith

This is Book Five in the Cormoran Strike series, written by J.K. Rowling under an assumed name, and it is the best by far. Written at a leisurely pace, as the author takes detours to develop characters and delve into such issues as feminism, this is much more than a murder mystery – even though it revolves around a cold case of a woman who disappeared many decades ago. There is, nonetheless, an urgency to the story that will keep you reading late into the night. For my part, I could not put it down.

The Order by Daniel Silva

Gabriel Allon is back at the Vatican, investigating the suspicious death of a Pope, while being stymied at every turn by a mysterious and powerful cult organization. In case the plot sounds familiar to regular readers of Silva, it’s because it is; we have seen regular iterations of this formula over the years. But this spy thriller ventures into new territory, examining the origins of Christianity and its relationship with the Jewish community. Yes, there are shades of Dan Brown, but this is gripping read that stands on its own merits.

The Spymasters by Chris Whipple

We tend to think of the CIA as some mythic beast with vast powers. But this book shows us that it is like any other government department: often confused, riven with infighting and at the mercy of politicians. This masterly summary of the CIA’s progress over the last 60 years or so captures many of its failures. It did not predict the fall of the Soviet Union and it was wrong about Saddam Hussain’s alleged weapons of mass destruction. Read this, and you will end up feeling more kindly towards R&AW and our own spies.

Melania and Me by Stephanie Winston Wolkoff

The First Lady of the United States has always come off as a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma (with due apologies to Winston Churchill). And even after four years in the White House, Melania Trump remains a mysterious figure, waving robot-like at her rare public appearances but saying very little of note. Stephanie Winston Wolkoff’s book provides us with the first glimpse of Melania in private, revealing her in unguarded moments as the two women negotiate a friendship that goes very wrong. The portrait of the First Lady that emerges in this unrelenting take from an insider is not at all flattering. Which, I guess, comes as a surprise to no one at all.

Diary of an MP’s Wife by Sasha Swire

It is safe to say that Sasha Swire was dispatched to social Siberia from the moment the advance copies of this book began circulating. This gossipy, occasionally cruel, always snobby account of the doings of David Cameron’s inner circle (while he was Prime Minister) is astonishing in its frankness and candour. Which is exactly what makes it such delicious reading – best devoured with a glass of wine after the day’s work is done.

Page-turners

There’s nothing quite like a good book to get you through these trying times; so here are some recommendations

As the days go by and I remain confined at home for the most part, I seek solace in other worlds. Sometimes it is through travel and food shows that take me to destinations I can’t visit. At others, it is by scrolling through the Instagram feeds of friends who share my passion for travel, and revisiting their old posts. But more often than not, I venture into different worlds by simply picking up a book and reading.

Okay, make that picking up my Kindle and reading. Over the past couple of months, when bookshops and physical books have not been available to us, I have taken to downloading the latest titles and reading them on my devices (I even have the Kindle app downloaded on my phone). And unlike book snobs who insist that they need the actual feel, touch, smell and whatever else of a book, the printed word on a screen serves me just fine.

As I have written earlier, I started off the lockdown by trying to read worthy books, which required oodles of concentration, so that I could make best use of the stretches of empty time that I now had to negotiate. That didn’t last long. As my anxiety about the pandemic grew, so did my inability to digest new and complicated information. So, I fell back on my comfort reads, the books that have sustained me for years now, seeking refuge in the words of my favourite authors.

Well, that phase – lovely though it was while it lasted – ended a few weeks back, once I realized that lockdown was going to be a way of life now. And slowly and cautiously, I dipped my toes into the waters of new releases, starting off with some light fiction, graduating to memoirs, and taking in biographies along the way.

So here, based on my own recent reading, is a list of books that I enjoyed reading – and that you may want to read as well.

Rodham: A Novel by Curtis Sittenfeld

What if Hillary Rodham had turned down Bill Clinton when he asked her to marry him? How would her life and career have developed if she hadn’t been weighed down by her husband’s serial infidelities? Would Bill Clinton still have become President of the United States if he didn’t have Hillary by his side? This book tries to answer these questions, retelling the story of Hillary from the time she met Bill in college. The first half of the book can get a bit tedious because it goes over events we know all too well. But the second half, in which Sittenfeld’s imagination takes flight, more than makes up for it.

The Art Of Her Deal: The Untold Story of Melania Trump by Mary Jordan

Melania Trump, the First Lady of the United States of America, has often been described as the most famous unknown person in the world. Mary Jordan, in this painstakingly researched biography, tried to fill in the portrait of Melania with details from her childhood in Slovenia, her modeling days in Milan, her arrival in America as a little-known model, and how she finally made it to the White House, on the arm of her husband. Even if you’re no fan of the Trumps, this insightful book, written in a relaxed, easy style, should keep you entertained.

The Mirror And The Light by Hilary Mantel

Okay, it pains me to say this but say it I must. This last installment of Mantel’s trilogy – after Wolf Hall and Bring Up The Bodies – is not a patch on the two earlier books. Unlike the two others, which were sparkling and effervescent, this one seems stodgy in parts and entirely too weighed under by extraneous details about the Tudor court. But don’t give up after a couple of chapters. If you persist, you will be rewarded by a book that not only brings Oliver Cromwell to life but takes him to his death as well.

Lady In Waiting: My Extraordinary Life In The Shadow of the Crown by Anne Glenconner

I picked up this book thinking it would be a light and easy read, written as it was by the lady in waiting to Princess Margaret, Anne Glenconner, whose husband, Colin Tennant was the man behind the development of the island of Mustique. But what I found was a searing tale of love and loss, written by a woman who has endured more adversity and bereavement in her world of privilege than you could possibly imagine. That she remains optimistic and upbeat despite all she has gone through, and that she has managed to write a book that sings and soars is a remarkable achievement.

The Mothers: Five Women. Five Secrets. One Missing Husband by Sarah J Naughton

If you are looking for a nice, light read, that delivers a few surprises along the line, then you can’t go wrong with this one. The Mothers refers to five women who meet in their antenatal group but remain good friends even three years later, catching up with each other’s lives during boozy evenings. Everything falls apart, however, when one of their husbands goes missing and the police are called in. The ladies band together as the investigation begins but cracks soon start showing up as the book builds up to a surprising reveal. If you liked Big Little Lies, you will love this (as will Reese Witherspoon, if she hasn’t already bought the film rights!)

  

The book's the thing

How to turn your child into a reader

Last week, my eldest niece’s daughter turned 13 (in case you’re wondering, my sister is 16 years older than I am!) and all our thoughts turned to buying her the perfect present to mark her transformation into a teenager. After being presented with a plethora of choices – Handbag? Shoes? Earrings? Clothes? – Hitee made her decision. 

All she wanted for her birthday was books. And not just the kind that you can download on Kindle. She wanted actual, physical books made of paper and glue, the ones that come with beautiful covers that you can gaze at admiringly, and the smell that transports to mythical worlds far away from your everyday reality.

So, that’s what all of us gave her: books. And her joy as she laid eyes on each one was quite something to behold.

Truth be told, it took me back to my own childhood and teenage years, when I lived for the times when I could get hold of a new book. In my case, the few books I owned were supplemented by the school library, and those in turn were supplemented by the lending library that my mother had signed me on for. So, it felt good to see that the Goswami reading gene had been transmitted to another generation, even if it had skipped one generation in the process (the only reading my niece does is Whatsapp forwards; I exaggerate, of course, but only by a bit). 

But more importantly, it made me delirious with joy to see that at least some young people were still into books and treated reading like a pleasure rather than a chore. I can only hope and pray that their tribe increases year after year.

But that increase won’t happen in the absence of effort on the part of the responsible adults in the lives of these children. The joy of reading needs to be inculcated at an early age, and then fed on a steady diet of good books if it is not to die out by adulthood. And parents and family members can play an important role in this regard.

So, what should you do if you want the child in your life to grow up to be a reader? Well, here are a few pointers that have stood me in good stead all these years. Maybe they would work for you as well.

Start them young

And by that, I mean very young indeed. Read to your baby even if it seems as if she doesn’t understand anything at all. Sing aloud to her from books of rhymes. Introduce her to the different animals in the books you read. As she grows older, this routine will be so familiar to her that she will regard books as an integral part of playtime. And she will soon be clamouring to be read to, not just at night as a bedtime ritual, but also during the day. 


Make reading fun

When your kids are younger, you can keep them amused with pop-up books, so that they can physically touch the castles they are reading about and gaze at the princesses who live within them. When they learn to read themselves, make them read one page while you read the next. As they grow older, you can involve them in the storytelling itself. Break off at an interesting point one evening and ask them to come up with their own version of what happened next by the morning. That will not just make them more invested in the stories but will also boost their imagination and enhance their creativity.

Bond over shared favourites

Half the pleasure of reading to your children stems from the joy of rediscovering your own childhood favourites – and seeing how they speak to you now that you are all grown up. There will be plenty of books from your own childhood that will not make the cut in this era of political correctness, but some perennial favourites are just the thing to bond over (as in, if Noddy seems too racist, then stick to the Five Find-Outers). There is no greater satisfaction than seeing your kids fall in love with the fictional characters that were your own best friends growing up. And in seeing them immersed in the same stories that were the staple of your childhood reading. 

Broaden their horizons

That said, the world has now expanded far beyond Enid Blyton and Nancy Drew (yes, yes, I know, one is an author, the other a fictional character) and there is an entire new universe of children’s fiction out there. Explore that along with your child, discover new worlds together, marvel at the plethora of diverse characters that exists in kids’ fiction today. Introduce them to mythological tales from all across the world. Buy them translations of children’s books from other countries and cultures. It is never too early to teach them that we live in a big, wide world, in which people of all shapes, colours, creeds and beliefs exist. But that, no matter what their differences and however diverse their stories, they are all united by the universal themes of love, peace and acceptance.

Homing In

It’s a house when you move into it; you have to turn it into home

What makes a house into a home? That is a question I have grappled with over the last couple of decades, ever since I moved to Delhi and began living in an endless succession of teeny-tiny apartments. 

I still retain the fondest of memories of the first house I moved into in the capital, a small barsati in Defence Colony, where the enormous terrace was more than adequate recompense for the cramped rooms. But despite my love for my first Delhi home, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of achievement when I could finally afford a ‘proper’ flat, even if it was rented. And moving into a house of my own came with its own sense of joy – and relief (as anyone who has had to shift homes every two years when the lease is up will understand only too well).

Looking back now, I often wonder what was the moment when these living spaces went from being a ‘house’ to becoming my ‘home’? Was there a magic moment when that transformation occurred? Or was it a slow and steady process that crept up on me while I was busy doing something else? And what were the elements that went into this process?

What, to go back to my original question, makes a ‘house’ a ‘home’? 

In my case, the process begins with paint. Every house I ever moved into had its walls painted that regulation, anodyne off-white. A nothing shade, it depressed me just to look at it. So, the first thing I did was splash some colour on the walls. Dusky rose pink for the drawing room. A bright sunny yellow for the den. A brooding blue for the bar. Soothing tones of grey and lavender for the bedroom. And the odd splash of lime green to add interest to a boring corner. 

Everything looks so much better once the walls come alive with colour. The house is on its way to begin looking like a home – my home.

And then, come the books. Only once I have unpacked the many cartons containing what I rather grandiosely term my ‘library’ and arranged its contents on the shelves according to my preferred scheme (thrillers in one section, biographies in another, food books in a nook near the kitchen, and so on), do I start feeling truly at home. It’s like when you are surrounded by old friends in a new, unfamiliar place; their presence alone is enough to make you feel more at ease. That’s how books make me feel in a new house.

But that is just the starting point. The circle is only complete once I have identified a favourite corner (or a favourite chair or couch) to read in. Once I’ve found that little nook, spent a day (or two) ensconced in it, a steaming cup of coffee at hand, I know that I have found another home for myself.

Next comes the kitchen, which is – when you think about it – the heart of the house. So, the third step in turning a house into a home is to get the kitchen up and running. The spice rack must be stocked with everything from fresh haldi to Herbs de Provence, from Chinese five-spice powder to Mexican seasoning, from powdered lemon grass to sachets of bouquet garni. All my pots and pans – the cast-iron ones for cooking meat, the non-stick ones for healthy sautéing, the large one for making a cassoulet, the small one for the perfect omelet, and so on and on and on – must be within easy reach. The fridge and freezer must be heaving with cold meat, Greek yoghurt, cheese (the smellier the better), and ready-to-cook frozen aloo tikkis (don’t ask!).

Once all of this is in place, and more importantly, I have used all my pots and pans and assorted ingredients to cook a meal in that brand-new kitchen, well that’s when I begin to feel at home.

The last and final step has nothing to with the house, and everything to do with the neighbourhood. Strolling on the streets to get the lay of the land; walking in the local park every evening; buying vegetables from the subziwallah around the corner; getting a takeaway cappuccino from the nearby coffee-shop. A couple of weeks of this and the area – not just the house – begins to feel like home.

Of course, the process is different for everyone. And each one of us has his or her own criterion for deciding on what makes a house a home. A friend of mine insists that it’s only when the newly-painted walls start showing a stain or two, the kids spill some stuff on the sofa and the dog chews up one end of the carpet, does she feel that she’s finally made the home her own. 

For others, making a home means having friends and family over for an evening of food, drinks and laughs. Some feel at home only after they have an elaborate Grihapravesh puja. And then, there are those who need to generate enough clutter before they can call a place ‘home’.

But whatever the process, it invariably involves putting our own special stamp on the space we occupy. At the end of the day, like all animals, we need to mark our territory to truly make it our own.

On your knees!

When the chaos of the world threatens to overwhelm, it is time to count your blessings

My guess is that this Sunday morning, as you sit down with your first cup of chai/coffee, you are a wee bit fed up of all the bad news that seems to be playing out on surround sound in our world. The Sensex has crashed, Pakistan persists in sending terrorists across to India, onion prices keep soaring into the stratosphere, the monsoon is failing, and murder mysteries get murkier and murkier with every re-telling. 

But in case the universe seems to have stopped making sense, pause for a minute, breathe in, exhale, and take a minute to count your blessings. For that’s what I intend to do this morning: tot up all the many things that I have to be thankful for. Feel free to join in; trust me, it will make you feel much better about yourself and the world we live in.

Okay, first up is health. If you are on the wrong side of forty, you may have a few niggling worries on that score. Your cholesterol count may be high, your blood pressure may be elevated slightly, your knees and back giving you a bit of trouble, and sore on and sore forth. But step back and look at the bigger picture. You are still alive and kicking. You haven’t lost the use of your limbs or indeed your brain. The rest of it is just detail, which can be ironed out with a new fitness regime. So render thanks for the fact that you are still around – and still standing (if only just!).

A close second comes family. It doesn’t matter how big or small this is, whether it is extended or nuclear, dysfunctional or perfect, related by blood or marriage. As long as there are people in it who love you and are, in turn, loved by you, there is a lot to be thankful for. You may be in daily touch with them; or you may not have spoken to them in months. But so long as you know that there are people out there who care for you and will drop everything to be by your side if you need them (as you would for them) then you are blessed indeed. 

Next up are your friends. No, not the ones you list on Facebook, whose status updates and pictures you faithfully ‘like’ every time you log on. Not the ones on Twitter who respond to your every sally with a smiley face emoji. Not the ones you meet on the cocktail circuit, all air kisses and false intimacy. Not the ones who are cultivating you for whatever benefit they can leech off you, all the while telling you how absolutely amazing you are. No, not those ‘friends’.

The friends you should be grateful for are the ones who see you for what you are, accept you with all your flaws, and love and support you regardless. These are the ones who will answer truthfully when you ask if you ass looks enormous in these jeans. They are the ones who will pick up the phone at 3 am in the morning if you find yourself in a spot of bother. They are the ones who will attack you to your face and defend you behind your back (rather than the other way round). If you have even one of those then consider yourself truly blessed.

That’s the big stuff. But there is also a lot of small stuff that makes us feel truly blessed, if only we would stop to think about. In my case, the list goes something like this:

• A room of my own: That was something I longed for growing up as the youngest in a joint family. The ability to retreat into a space that was completely my own, where nobody could intrude without my express permission. A place where I could be alone with my thoughts, my books, my music, or simply with myself. When I finally moved to another city to live on my own, the sense of freedom I felt was something quite indescribable. Even today, when I no longer live alone, it feels like a blessing to be able to retreat into my own space when I want to.
• Books, books, and books: I often think that if I were ever to wash up on a deserted island, I would be quite content so long as it had a stash of my favourite books and a soft pillow to rest my head on! But more seriously, while I could easily cope without a TV or even an internet connection, even the thought of living in a world without books sends a shiver up my spine.
• An evening at home: The social whirl is not for me. My idea of the perfect evening is pottering around in the kitchen to make something simple for dinner, eating it with family as we chat about the day, following up with some quality time with a box set of one of my favourite TV shows, and then reading myself to sleep. And, of course, counting my blessings, as the lights go out.

Book your break

Here’s a list of cracking reads for when you finally take off on your summer vacation

So, we’re into the month of May, that time of year when our thoughts inexorably veer towards that most-longed-for vacation: the summer break. But banish that glazed look in your eyes for a moment. I am not going to lecture you about how to get the perfect beach body or hold forth on how best to pack those long dresses that take you effortlessly from day to night. Nor am I going to dazzle with all the names of the must-visit destinations that you simply must visit. And I certainly have no advice on how to get there, or what to do and where to eat once you do.

What I have for you instead is something that is simply vital for every holiday: a list of books to take along and dip into as you sit for hours on an airplane, sunbathe on the beach, relax by the pool, or laze in bed. And no, I am not going to mention the usual suspects. By now, I am sure anyone who has any interest in reading has gobbled up Gone Girl, The Girl On The Train, or whatever the bestseller du jour is. 

Instead I present, in no particular order of importance, a short list of all the authors that I love, and whose books you might enjoy reading during your break. (The fact that they are all women is just a happy accident.)

• Nora Ephron: There is no way you can possibly go wrong with Nora Ephron. If you enjoy fiction, you can kick back with the classic that started it all, Heartburn, the witty and sometimes darkly humorous chronicle of the end of a marriage. If you prefer non-fiction, you can immerse yourself in Ephron’s sparkling essays like the one that explains why I Feel Bad About My Neck. No matter what book you choose, your can depend on Ephron to keep you suitably entertained (not to mention entranced). 

• Harper Lee: Now that the reclusive author is about to publish her second novel, Go Set A Watchman, a sequel to her first that came out 55 (yes, that’s right, 55) years ago, it may be time to pick up your tattered old copy of To Kill A Mockingbird and refresh your memories of Atticus Finch and his daughter, Scout. You can then catch up with the adult Scout in the new book as she journeys back to visit her father in the new book (which was actually written before To Kill A Mockingbird but then put away and forgotten).

• Elizabeth Jane Howard: She is probably the most underrated novelist of her time, her fame eclipsed by her one-time husband, Kingsley Amis. But don’t let that deter you. Howard is a masterly storyteller and her tetralogy of novels, five books making up the Cazalet Chronicles, tracing the life of an upper-class English family over three generations, is a fantastic read.

• Kate Atkinson: She does family drama too, but so very differently. There is sometimes a gentle elegiac quality to her writing, which draws into you into the story, but it is always leavened with wit and humour. And sometimes there is a darkly brooding atmosphere that can be truly unsettling. If at all possible, try and read her trilogy of crime novels featuring ex-policeman Jackson Brodie, in order.

• Jodi Picoult: As regular readers of this column will know, she is an old favourite of mine and a reliable standby when it comes to page-turners that don’t demand too much of you (my definition of a holiday read, when it comes to that). Her latest, Leaving Time, was a bit patchy but if you haven’t read some of her earlier books – Change Of Heart, Perfect Match, Keeping Faith – you are in for a treat.

• Philippa Gregory: If historical fiction is your thing, then Gregory is your woman. And her novels set in the Tudor and Plantagenet period are quite unique for being written from the perspective of her principal women characters, who have been quite ignored by history. But whether it is Elizabeth Woodville or Elizabeth of York, they all come alive in her books, as fully-rounded, fleshed-out characters who influence the course of medieval English history from their vantage points behind the throne.

• Hilary Mantel: We’re still in historical fiction territory with her two latest bestsellers, Wolf Hall and Bring Up The Bodies. But Mantel’s is a far more literary take on the subject than Gregory’s, though she manages to write page-turners just the same. She is the first person to tell the turbulent story of Henry VIII and his ill-fated love affair with Anne Boleyn from the perspective of the much-reviled Thomas Cromwell. And it is entirely a tribute to her writing skills that you begin to have a sneaking admiration for a man who was, by all historical accounts, a thoroughly nasty piece of work.

• Liane Moriarty: I came to discover her late, after she had written four books, but it was her fifth, the international bestseller, The Husband’s Secret, that really got me hooked. It begins with a suburban Australian wife stumbling upon a letter written by her husband with the exhortation that it only be read after his death. He is very much alive, but can she possibly resist opening the envelope? Read it to find out. Meanwhile I will be busy, delving into Moriarty’s new book, Big Little Lies, which I have earmarked for my own vacation.

Fine print

The story of our lives is intricately bound with the books we read along the way

There are some people who find cooking therapeutic. They love the mechanical peeling, chopping, cutting, grinding that allows them to switch off from the work day. They enjoy the meditative process of stirring the pot and watching their labours evolve into a dish that their family can enjoy. They love the rituals involved in putting a meal together.

I am not one of these people. What I find therapeutic is rearranging my bookshelves ever so often. Well, okay, now that you mention it, I do suffer from a mild form of OCD, but that’s neither here nor there (not there! Move it an inch to the right. Ah, that’s much better!) I find joy in going through my books, cataloguing them under categories and arranging them according to size or subject matter depending on my mood.

But ever so often I find myself distracted by a book I haven’t picked up in years. I start to leaf through it, and before I know it I am engulfed by memories: of the time I bought it, where I was when I first read it, the friend I lent it to, the discussions we had about it.

See, that’s the thing about books. They don’t just tell a story, they become stories in themselves. A whole history develops around them in your mind. They spark memories, they evoke emotions, they make you happy, they make you sad. They become the stuff of nostalgia.

And that’s before you even start to re-read them. Then, there’s the pleasure of coming across a line that made such an impact on you the first time you read it. There’s the added bonus of concentrating on language, style, characterization and plotting, because you are not intent on galloping to the end (you already know how the story goes). There are those rare moments when an oft-read book yields up new gems of wisdom because you are now in a different stage of your life. And then, there’s the added poignancy of reading an author who is now dead, but still speaks to you from beyond the grave. (Picking up a P.D. James at random, I stumble upon her meditations on the best kind of death, and I start to wonder if she achieved that in her own life.)

I glance through the memoirs of Cherie Blair and am struck by the impermanence of politics; less than ten years after it was written Speaking For Myself already seems dated and of little historical relevance. I start reading Jodi Kantor’s book on the Obamas, and wonder why this collection of tittle-tattle once removed made such an impact at the time.

And then, there’s the ‘What was I Thinking’ section. Did I really pay good money to buy a hardback copy of Judith Krantz’s Dazzle? It’s hard to believe that I was so young and so stupid at any time? Why on earth do I have so many Jackie Collins paperbacks, when I have no recollection of reading a single one? I must have done so, since my motto is to leave no book unread on my shelves. But, as I glance briefly through one, I can’t comprehend why I ever wasted my time on this drivel.

But I am happy to report that I wasn’t always stupid when I was young. My well-thumbed copy of To Kill A Mockingbird stands testament to that, as do the tattered pages of Gerald Durrell’s My Family and Other Animals (which still reduces me to tears of laughter, no matter how many times I read it). My copy of Truman Capote’s Breakfast At Tiffany’s may be falling apart but the tale of Holly Golightly remains as fresh and effervescent as ever with every re-reading.

I wander into the next room to visit my collection of Agatha Christie (every book she ever wrote) and I am transported back to the high ceilinged room that was my school library, where I first discovered the queen of mystery writing. The book was The Ordeal of Innocence, and I still remember the edge-of-the-seat suspense I felt as I raced to the utterly-unexpected end, reading by torchlight in my bedroom so that nobody could tell I was up way past my bedtime.

It was my early love for Christie that led to my subsequent discovery of – and pleasure in – such suspense writers as Val McDermid, Elizabeth George, Donna Leon, Minette Walters, and yes, P.D. James. The lone copy of Dorothy L. Sayers bears mute testimony to the fact that I tried – and failed – to get into the adventures of her creation, the perfectly named Lord Peter Wimsey.

I made much the same journey with the spy thriller genre, and that is dutifully recorded on my books shelves. I came to it via John Le Carre, starting with The Spy Who Came In From The Cold, written before I was born, and going on to such classics as Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, and Smiley’s People. My appetite suitably whetted, I went on to feast on Charles McCarry’s tales of super spy Paul Christopher (if you haven’t read him yet, do read the books in order; I didn’t and still bitterly regret it), and then went on to revel in the tales of Israeli spy/assassin Gabriel Allon (though I must confess I am now beginning to tire of Daniel Silva’s increasingly formulaic take on the spy novel).

But whatever my current views on authors and books, I could never bear to give away a single title. These books don’t just tell the stories that the authors wrote; they are also the story of my life so far.