All the beautiful daughters of Mara by Ashok Aatreya (books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕
Excerpt from the book:
A novel written by Ashok atreya is an attempt of embodying the para-psychological, ethereal and day-to-day experiences of the hero. The Key to this novel is very clearly explained in the 54th chapter with the same title " All the beautiful Daughters of Mara", in which Anand, the hero, tells us the story of his previous births, where he visualizes the past and present where his unfulfilled desire for eternal love accentuates with unending lust for life, get freely expressed.
The myth of "All the beautiful Daughters of Mara" existing parallel to his own span of life, of which only present is visible and the rest of the episodes in his previous births, Anand experiences as and when he encounters them.
The overall development of this novel could only be examined with the help of a "Tantrik-based parody", where not only the sequence of Janma-Janmantra is added for an additional fervor, exposing the hero's passion and lust through and through but also his predicament of being a helpless victim in the hands of mystic destiny.
The author has picked up an apparently mystic theme. Unconsciously, as he has inherited the tradition of religion, Indian mythology and Tantra from his ancestors, but the beauty of the work lies in the fact of a secular approach to life omitting the bondages of caste and creed. In this background, this work of fiction becomes para-modern!
The libidinal instinct of Anand in his present and previous births, attaches with himself a number of voluptuous women belonging to various ethnic backgrounds. Tantra, as a distinctive sect of Hindu worship tradition, has very significant role of "Panch-Makars" and, therefore, the Omni-presence of women around the hero is the internal necessity of the theme, which results into many neo-vam-margi experience. This is, thus, a novel-departure in the field of contemporary Indian English writing.
The novelist has very aptly casted valid comment on the degeneration of present political scenario by elevating the police -shooter, an encounter-specialist to the supreme office of the President. (this is just like The then President of Pakistan General Parvez Musharraf (Who started his career as an ordinary military commando) These are not mere fiction fantasies but all around us, we find such absurdities taking shape !
The sub-titles attributed to 58 chapters lucidly establish the internal consistency of unbelievable episodes full of love, lust and crime, tied with an unseen threads of births and rebirths.
Naturally such a theme has interminable prospective of constructing stories -interesting and unending, of which Ashok Aatreya, as a fiction writer, has all the potential.
The myth of "All the beautiful Daughters of Mara" existing parallel to his own span of life, of which only present is visible and the rest of the episodes in his previous births, Anand experiences as and when he encounters them.
The overall development of this novel could only be examined with the help of a "Tantrik-based parody", where not only the sequence of Janma-Janmantra is added for an additional fervor, exposing the hero's passion and lust through and through but also his predicament of being a helpless victim in the hands of mystic destiny.
The author has picked up an apparently mystic theme. Unconsciously, as he has inherited the tradition of religion, Indian mythology and Tantra from his ancestors, but the beauty of the work lies in the fact of a secular approach to life omitting the bondages of caste and creed. In this background, this work of fiction becomes para-modern!
The libidinal instinct of Anand in his present and previous births, attaches with himself a number of voluptuous women belonging to various ethnic backgrounds. Tantra, as a distinctive sect of Hindu worship tradition, has very significant role of "Panch-Makars" and, therefore, the Omni-presence of women around the hero is the internal necessity of the theme, which results into many neo-vam-margi experience. This is, thus, a novel-departure in the field of contemporary Indian English writing.
The novelist has very aptly casted valid comment on the degeneration of present political scenario by elevating the police -shooter, an encounter-specialist to the supreme office of the President. (this is just like The then President of Pakistan General Parvez Musharraf (Who started his career as an ordinary military commando) These are not mere fiction fantasies but all around us, we find such absurdities taking shape !
The sub-titles attributed to 58 chapters lucidly establish the internal consistency of unbelievable episodes full of love, lust and crime, tied with an unseen threads of births and rebirths.
Naturally such a theme has interminable prospective of constructing stories -interesting and unending, of which Ashok Aatreya, as a fiction writer, has all the potential.
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- Author: Ashok Aatreya
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of all age in his bastl.
Anand had to leave many more things behind.A sort of nostalgia:His regular visits to Railway Platform, every evning one hour earlier the departure time of Jaipur-Marwar train with his friends, even if there was nobody of his acqaintance to go...just to take 'vitamin G' for eyes (G for girls or women tavellers ) he and his group of friends would enjoy those twilights beat without fail.That would be the time of diya-batti in every home and her Nani used to clean the glass-cover every evening by a loori, small piece of cloth ,put kerosine in the lantern and another small lamp with the help of a small shining 'musical' tin pump which was kept over the closed water tank near 'Tulsaji'. It was he who gave Tulsi leaves to his Nani every morning before she would go to temple.
His other silent memories had impressions of Hauman temple, every afternoon visit to nearby cenotaph eating grapes and winter dry-fruis with a very fast friend who left his studies and took to job earlier due to his family circumestances...going to Shivbari by cycles many times with him crossing black-yellow thunderbolt.
Anand could not forget his last day meeting with Shaheen in the library.The lady Librarian had some hint of their affairs as she often kept a supervisory eye whenever they craved to go beyond rare-books section.Actually that section was reserved for researchers and not for students of undergraduate classes.But as Anand was a promising cricketier and played good cricket for his college , the Librarian lady had some bonus points and concession for him and allowed them to ' enjoy' the liberty,Which perhaps she could not enjoy in her life. She became a widow in her very early age.It was a routine that after his entry in the library, he would directly go to the rare-books section and that too would be Shaheen's move.It was also a fact that plant texonomy section was adjucent to that part of library and that too perchance was their previlaged area .
It was also a matter of coincidence that the cricket ground of the college was adjacent to the library building and the librarian lady developed deep interest in cricket too and particulaly she was impressed by stylistic batting of Anand who always played glorius ennings.From the window of her room she would see cricket matches often played with other colleges in that ground and enjoyed every stoke of Anand's batting who was a fast scorer and always supported his team by his sixers and fours. The boundary wall was the far end touching the library...and perhaps Anand's that sport'sman and his glaring youth thrilled the lady who started feeling a sort of intimacy with him too.From the wall of books shelves and store proper she would watch his movements and made him her mental hero in her otherwise borring dry and detached widowhood .It was just a chance that one afternoon when she was taking her tea in the winter time, from her steaming tea kettle,Anand just entered in her chamber with Shaheen and he himself asked for tea which she very happily offered to both of them...and that evening the lady became the 'Barometer of their love.For some space of time when the Librarian lady had to go to issue some books in the counter and after that turned her back just entering in her room she found both of them in cudle. She stopped for a while in between the door, could not stop her smile which she did not show to them by putting palm on her face and then joined them in tea. She did not know that that tea would be the last tea of Anand and Shaheen in the library because after that the love birds never appeared in the library premises .The lady very soon heard the news that their lustful conglutinations ended in the wildeness of sin which pressurised Anand to leave the city.For many days the window of her library opening towards the Gajner road also reminded her of Anand's adventurous journey, set out for unknown, remained a memory of 'her' great cricketor.The lady anyhow collected two rare short love letters written to Shaheen by Anand in the white spaces of one Plant Taxonomy book which was last issued to Shaheen as the letters had very clearly ended with the letter''s'' and ''A''.That book was issued again and again to them only and was rotated between Anand and Shaheen for three months.
Leaving kernels of his heart desires Anand left his all time 'sporting city' rather a hunting sanctuary…gone to Mumbai…lived there for one year, tried to disconnect with difficulty himself from anything of his old town. Even from his best passion of Shooting, his illustrious cricket career he became a humble student of J.J. School of Arts.He wanted his future map very clear...at least that time no 'scupper'.
He still remembered , how much supportive was his Nani in his worst phase of life.As was her daily habbit she would read Gita at the time of twilight and only after completion of two chapters everyday she would call him and advise for his next moves of life.She also told him that he should not feel ashamed of what had unfortunately happened in his life.In young and innocent days anybody can commit mistakes but for future he must be true to his carreer.He must not divert from the path of righteousness in the coming time. She also assured him for all possible guide-lines but also reminded him that God also helps them who helped themseles.At that time she put off her spectacles and rubbed her eyes...they were not wet but helpless.
22/NEW LIFE
In the attempt to forget bad days he reached Bombay -the financial capital of the country. The moment he touched the Bandra Terminus, he had the intense feeling of meeting his college day’s friend from business community Chopra, who had promised to receive him and help him find proper place for his stay. His eyes were searching him here and there in the crowded station and to his surprise his friend caught his suitcase from his back and told him to follow. They came by taxi from Bandra terminus to Bandra local station to catch local train for Goregaon where his friend Chopra lived.
It took no time in setting in Bombay for Anand. He studied paintings in the J.J.School of Arts and completed two years diploma in Applied Arts from this well known institute then he was confronted with a dilemma: should he live there for a limited time as decided by his parents or choose this ‘Alma mater’ his final destination for his future living.
The very second day of his arrival in Bombay he completed the formalities of his admission in J.J School and wanted to see Jahangir Art Gallery…he was advised by his college friend Chopra that the entire Fort area is very monumental and it is centre of art activities of Bombay…Beside Jahangir Art Gallery the hotel Taj , Gateway of India, V.T station ,famous Nariman Point and choupati and lot of other good hotels are at walking distance to each other …but he should not move much initially for a month and should try to come home early in the evening…Anand tried to follow his friend’s advice but when he was moving from Churchgate to Nariman point just to have a glance of the seascape of Bombay, he found a big brass- plate of some ‘Puzo-Studio’ on the opposite site of station while walking through the closed veranda near Brebon Stadium…Anand ascended the broad brown colored wooden staircase and pushed the call-bell over the gate of the studio.
A girl in her thirties with long slender legs and bobbed hair opened the door…she was in
long pink skirt up to her knees and with a soft smile in her face asked him –‘whom you want?’
I want to meet Mr Puzo…
Do you know him?
No this is my first meeting
O.k please wait…and she gone beyond the side room and disappeared…after waiting for around five minute a middle aged man with French cut beard appeared before him…He was Mr Puzo.
You want to see me…how you know me?
I have taken admission in J.J. School and after seeing your studio sign plate I became interested to see you…I thought you should be a big artist…
Oh that’s it…you perhaps don’t know I rarely meet people these days…I remain busy with my pending plans…O.k ..No problems…come… come in my studio…and
Anand followed him …In his life time Anand had seen for the first time such a big art studio of any professional sculptor. The windows were opening over a vast lush green ground …and in such a beautiful environment Mr Puzo had his residence cum studio…Anand felt himself very lucky to meet such a big person in Bombay on third day of his existence in this grand city…Puzo gave him a seat and remained busy in some sketch work for another twenty minutes…During this space and time he was feeling himself again and again lucky. The large spacious room was decorated by antiquarian maps, engravings, lithographs, water colours and rare photographs all set beautifully on the walls of studio…Anand was looking out of window when the same graceful lady ,who opened the door for him, brought a glass of water in a small tray and told him to wait little more as her father will be coming after finishing some outline of his new sculpture…
‘Mr Puzo is a sculptor?
‘Yes you can imagine, all his studio’s sculpturs have taken his entire life…He is still getting orders from his old dealers…The entire studio was filled with busts, standing and sitting marble and bronze works of art...the sculptures were gracefully covered by transparent linen and silken cloth’s.
‘His medium is stone…?
‘Yes mostly marble from Italy or black granite from South Africa although he had used silver,bronze,ceremics for his wide range of subjects…but I have forgotten to ask you…are you also artist..?
‘Well I wish to be an artist…presently I have taken admission in J.J.
‘Oh that’s wonderful All of my parents- my father also are J.J’S products…My father was in the J.J in old times. He was a senior faculty member….’
As Anand and Puzo’s daughter were interacting with each other, the grand master entered in the studio…Anand stood in his honor…but Mr Puzo told him to be comfortable. He then pointed towards his daughter-‘ Mira…now you can oblige me and our young guest by hot…hot pot of tea.’
Anand first of all could not believe his ears…what he heard was correct..?then out of curiosity and innocence he asked Mr Puzo- How you are calling your daughter…her name is Mira sir.?
‘Yes young boy…She is Mira …and I have one son also his name is Gandherva.’
‘This is really wonderful sir…I like both the names…Anand was little bit excited by these Hindu names…
‘But … are you Christian sir..?
‘I am an Indian first…for me religion comes next…cast… creed …colors are all man made…’
‘Yes sir…Anand was unable to argue in favor or against the subject…as he was already overwhelmed by the grand master’s personality.
But slowly and steadily he tried to express himself…Now all three of them were enjoying tea…Anand was highly impressed by Mr Puzo’s past contributions in the field of realistic sculptures and deep study of international scenario of modern as well as tradional arts…He also told him about his past days experience as a teacher in J.J and his personal relations with the established contemporary artist of India. He shown him the real sketch of Mahatma Gandhi who gave him personal sitting for making a historical sculpture of him (Bapu) He really enjoyed each and every moment with the artist and her daughter .It was a
Anand had to leave many more things behind.A sort of nostalgia:His regular visits to Railway Platform, every evning one hour earlier the departure time of Jaipur-Marwar train with his friends, even if there was nobody of his acqaintance to go...just to take 'vitamin G' for eyes (G for girls or women tavellers ) he and his group of friends would enjoy those twilights beat without fail.That would be the time of diya-batti in every home and her Nani used to clean the glass-cover every evening by a loori, small piece of cloth ,put kerosine in the lantern and another small lamp with the help of a small shining 'musical' tin pump which was kept over the closed water tank near 'Tulsaji'. It was he who gave Tulsi leaves to his Nani every morning before she would go to temple.
His other silent memories had impressions of Hauman temple, every afternoon visit to nearby cenotaph eating grapes and winter dry-fruis with a very fast friend who left his studies and took to job earlier due to his family circumestances...going to Shivbari by cycles many times with him crossing black-yellow thunderbolt.
Anand could not forget his last day meeting with Shaheen in the library.The lady Librarian had some hint of their affairs as she often kept a supervisory eye whenever they craved to go beyond rare-books section.Actually that section was reserved for researchers and not for students of undergraduate classes.But as Anand was a promising cricketier and played good cricket for his college , the Librarian lady had some bonus points and concession for him and allowed them to ' enjoy' the liberty,Which perhaps she could not enjoy in her life. She became a widow in her very early age.It was a routine that after his entry in the library, he would directly go to the rare-books section and that too would be Shaheen's move.It was also a fact that plant texonomy section was adjucent to that part of library and that too perchance was their previlaged area .
It was also a matter of coincidence that the cricket ground of the college was adjacent to the library building and the librarian lady developed deep interest in cricket too and particulaly she was impressed by stylistic batting of Anand who always played glorius ennings.From the window of her room she would see cricket matches often played with other colleges in that ground and enjoyed every stoke of Anand's batting who was a fast scorer and always supported his team by his sixers and fours. The boundary wall was the far end touching the library...and perhaps Anand's that sport'sman and his glaring youth thrilled the lady who started feeling a sort of intimacy with him too.From the wall of books shelves and store proper she would watch his movements and made him her mental hero in her otherwise borring dry and detached widowhood .It was just a chance that one afternoon when she was taking her tea in the winter time, from her steaming tea kettle,Anand just entered in her chamber with Shaheen and he himself asked for tea which she very happily offered to both of them...and that evening the lady became the 'Barometer of their love.For some space of time when the Librarian lady had to go to issue some books in the counter and after that turned her back just entering in her room she found both of them in cudle. She stopped for a while in between the door, could not stop her smile which she did not show to them by putting palm on her face and then joined them in tea. She did not know that that tea would be the last tea of Anand and Shaheen in the library because after that the love birds never appeared in the library premises .The lady very soon heard the news that their lustful conglutinations ended in the wildeness of sin which pressurised Anand to leave the city.For many days the window of her library opening towards the Gajner road also reminded her of Anand's adventurous journey, set out for unknown, remained a memory of 'her' great cricketor.The lady anyhow collected two rare short love letters written to Shaheen by Anand in the white spaces of one Plant Taxonomy book which was last issued to Shaheen as the letters had very clearly ended with the letter''s'' and ''A''.That book was issued again and again to them only and was rotated between Anand and Shaheen for three months.
Leaving kernels of his heart desires Anand left his all time 'sporting city' rather a hunting sanctuary…gone to Mumbai…lived there for one year, tried to disconnect with difficulty himself from anything of his old town. Even from his best passion of Shooting, his illustrious cricket career he became a humble student of J.J. School of Arts.He wanted his future map very clear...at least that time no 'scupper'.
He still remembered , how much supportive was his Nani in his worst phase of life.As was her daily habbit she would read Gita at the time of twilight and only after completion of two chapters everyday she would call him and advise for his next moves of life.She also told him that he should not feel ashamed of what had unfortunately happened in his life.In young and innocent days anybody can commit mistakes but for future he must be true to his carreer.He must not divert from the path of righteousness in the coming time. She also assured him for all possible guide-lines but also reminded him that God also helps them who helped themseles.At that time she put off her spectacles and rubbed her eyes...they were not wet but helpless.
22/NEW LIFE
In the attempt to forget bad days he reached Bombay -the financial capital of the country. The moment he touched the Bandra Terminus, he had the intense feeling of meeting his college day’s friend from business community Chopra, who had promised to receive him and help him find proper place for his stay. His eyes were searching him here and there in the crowded station and to his surprise his friend caught his suitcase from his back and told him to follow. They came by taxi from Bandra terminus to Bandra local station to catch local train for Goregaon where his friend Chopra lived.
It took no time in setting in Bombay for Anand. He studied paintings in the J.J.School of Arts and completed two years diploma in Applied Arts from this well known institute then he was confronted with a dilemma: should he live there for a limited time as decided by his parents or choose this ‘Alma mater’ his final destination for his future living.
The very second day of his arrival in Bombay he completed the formalities of his admission in J.J School and wanted to see Jahangir Art Gallery…he was advised by his college friend Chopra that the entire Fort area is very monumental and it is centre of art activities of Bombay…Beside Jahangir Art Gallery the hotel Taj , Gateway of India, V.T station ,famous Nariman Point and choupati and lot of other good hotels are at walking distance to each other …but he should not move much initially for a month and should try to come home early in the evening…Anand tried to follow his friend’s advice but when he was moving from Churchgate to Nariman point just to have a glance of the seascape of Bombay, he found a big brass- plate of some ‘Puzo-Studio’ on the opposite site of station while walking through the closed veranda near Brebon Stadium…Anand ascended the broad brown colored wooden staircase and pushed the call-bell over the gate of the studio.
A girl in her thirties with long slender legs and bobbed hair opened the door…she was in
long pink skirt up to her knees and with a soft smile in her face asked him –‘whom you want?’
I want to meet Mr Puzo…
Do you know him?
No this is my first meeting
O.k please wait…and she gone beyond the side room and disappeared…after waiting for around five minute a middle aged man with French cut beard appeared before him…He was Mr Puzo.
You want to see me…how you know me?
I have taken admission in J.J. School and after seeing your studio sign plate I became interested to see you…I thought you should be a big artist…
Oh that’s it…you perhaps don’t know I rarely meet people these days…I remain busy with my pending plans…O.k ..No problems…come… come in my studio…and
Anand followed him …In his life time Anand had seen for the first time such a big art studio of any professional sculptor. The windows were opening over a vast lush green ground …and in such a beautiful environment Mr Puzo had his residence cum studio…Anand felt himself very lucky to meet such a big person in Bombay on third day of his existence in this grand city…Puzo gave him a seat and remained busy in some sketch work for another twenty minutes…During this space and time he was feeling himself again and again lucky. The large spacious room was decorated by antiquarian maps, engravings, lithographs, water colours and rare photographs all set beautifully on the walls of studio…Anand was looking out of window when the same graceful lady ,who opened the door for him, brought a glass of water in a small tray and told him to wait little more as her father will be coming after finishing some outline of his new sculpture…
‘Mr Puzo is a sculptor?
‘Yes you can imagine, all his studio’s sculpturs have taken his entire life…He is still getting orders from his old dealers…The entire studio was filled with busts, standing and sitting marble and bronze works of art...the sculptures were gracefully covered by transparent linen and silken cloth’s.
‘His medium is stone…?
‘Yes mostly marble from Italy or black granite from South Africa although he had used silver,bronze,ceremics for his wide range of subjects…but I have forgotten to ask you…are you also artist..?
‘Well I wish to be an artist…presently I have taken admission in J.J.
‘Oh that’s wonderful All of my parents- my father also are J.J’S products…My father was in the J.J in old times. He was a senior faculty member….’
As Anand and Puzo’s daughter were interacting with each other, the grand master entered in the studio…Anand stood in his honor…but Mr Puzo told him to be comfortable. He then pointed towards his daughter-‘ Mira…now you can oblige me and our young guest by hot…hot pot of tea.’
Anand first of all could not believe his ears…what he heard was correct..?then out of curiosity and innocence he asked Mr Puzo- How you are calling your daughter…her name is Mira sir.?
‘Yes young boy…She is Mira …and I have one son also his name is Gandherva.’
‘This is really wonderful sir…I like both the names…Anand was little bit excited by these Hindu names…
‘But … are you Christian sir..?
‘I am an Indian first…for me religion comes next…cast… creed …colors are all man made…’
‘Yes sir…Anand was unable to argue in favor or against the subject…as he was already overwhelmed by the grand master’s personality.
But slowly and steadily he tried to express himself…Now all three of them were enjoying tea…Anand was highly impressed by Mr Puzo’s past contributions in the field of realistic sculptures and deep study of international scenario of modern as well as tradional arts…He also told him about his past days experience as a teacher in J.J and his personal relations with the established contemporary artist of India. He shown him the real sketch of Mahatma Gandhi who gave him personal sitting for making a historical sculpture of him (Bapu) He really enjoyed each and every moment with the artist and her daughter .It was a
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