My Opening to Page 3 -- Ankush's new Book !

It was during the late nineties that I joined the not-so-exclusive club of listless-Delhi-to-Gurgaon-commuters. During those days we had the unprecedented luxury of an employer provided bus which would at reckless and breakneck speeds, ferry us between Gurgaon and Delhi. To distract me from the near death experiences during this roller-coaster-esque ride to Gurgaon and back, I decided to carry some reading matter with me. That is when I discovered Page 3.

The Times of India served the purpose of the above mentioned reading matter. This particular publication had been picked for two reasons. Firstly, I thought that the regular perusal of a newspaper ( the TOI being a newspaper ) would broaden me as a human being, and secondly, it was extremely convenient to pinch the neighbour's copy on my way to work. So there I was, one day, trying to catch up on the latest political developments, whilst being violently jolted from side to side, when my eyes fell on Page 3. I immediately knew that it was the one. It was the only way in which I could ever get my picture into some sort of publication, and if I should fail to do so, the rest of the voyage of my life would be bound in shallows and miseries.

There however was a slight problem. To get my characteristically facile smile flashing on Page 3, I had to be someone, or actually know someone. I am sad to report that despite my sincere efforts, I magnificently failed on both counts. As a result, over all these years, no Page 3 happiness has ever graced my unfortunate life. I am therefore now, extremely happy to deplane the news that at last, the silver lining has appeared. There is hope. I now shall ( most probably ) not be denied my rightful place under the Sunday Supplement anymore !

The news is that my good friend and the possessor of a gigantic brain, Ankush Saikia has unleashed his first book. The book is called Jet City Woman and the prosaic details for the book can be found here. The cover of the book looks like this: (Click to zoom)

Ankush of course, has been previously short-listed for his very clever writing in the Outlook/Picador India Non-Fiction Competition. The short-listed entry is called Spotting Veron and was one of the better travel essays that I had read in some time.

This time around he has published a complete novel. It is an intense, funny, sad and engaging coming-of-age novel set in New Delhi and in north-eastern India. The author also maintains a blog, documenting the happenings and events around his first book. I would therefore urge my scant readership to go visit the blog and also buy the book and in the process, promote my brainy chum.

The Readership, at this point of time, must be raising its collective questioning eyebrow, and asking "Whats in it for you chump ?" Some must be also asking "And what of the Page 3 tish-tosh that you were waffling about ?" The combined answer is -- long awaited Page 3 domination ! Allow me to soberly outline the whole process.

1. Hordes of impatient readers converge in bookstores and start buying Ankush's book like there is no tomorrow.
2. Ankush, as a result, is showered with an insane amount of biscuits, doubloons and accolades.
3. Ankush starts getting invitations to extremely trendy parties and fashion shows.
4. He, in a moment of foolishness, invites me to one of these parties.
5. I appear on Page 3, in the Sunday Supplement, wearing a violently pink shirt and carelessly holding a drink, in a photograph titled -- Ankush and friend.
6. I achieve elusive happiness !

The Rule of Four -- Oh My God !

Never has it happened to me, that I have rushed through the book because it is so bad. This entry is about the mind numbing experience -- The book is markedly forgettable and absolutely nothing to write about.

This was my second grapple with this exercise in self importance. The first time I tried to handle it, I was taken completely by surprise. The sheer enormity of the ridiculousness of the first five chapters floored me. With a meek wave of the white flag, I retreated, curling up with an old volume of Wodehouse. Wodehouse always has a soothing balm like effect on me. A single Jeeves yarn was good enough for the Bourne Ultimatum, but the above mentioned five chapters required the combined powers of three complete books from the Psmith Omnibus. Thus renewed, I returned for a rematch.

I think that the rematch idea was a bad one. I had given up the first time because the book bored me. I never realised, the first time around that apart from being singularly insipid, the book also does not have a point, apart from the dripping pretentiousness. I had been trying very hard to finish it for the last four days, but last night, as I slept I kept having the same nightmare -- I am reading the ridiculous ramblings from the The Rule of Four. Trust me, that is scary shit. I had no option left. Any hot Bene Gesserit would say, "I will face my fear.I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path." Any hot Bene Gesserit would do what I did. I decided to let the damn thing pass over me. I woke up at 3:30 in the morning, and by 7 am I was through the Vapid Volume. I might not exactly be a finer deeper man after doing so but am certainly a much more relieved one.

For those who might be interested, the book is about nothing. Unrelated to the plot, it mentions a bunch of college students who generally trudge the snow and prepare for some thesis thingy about some 16th century text. Also totally unrelated to the plot, it mentions an art collector running amok with a pistol because somebody stole his blueprint or thunder or mojo or something. This art collector eventually sets fire to an alcohol soaked clubhouse and in the process, burns himself to a cinder. Oh yes, there is a girl there also, but again, not really a part of the plot.

Tags: books, bad books, reviews, The Rule of Four