Subbu Chronicles - A Series of Adventures

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Keshav Kronicles

            A couple of days back, a package came in. ‘Indiaplaza’ was written all over it. My brain made a connection immediately – the neurons conveyed ‘Sulekha’ when the eyes read ‘Indiaplaza.’ This is a happy connection – as many other bloggers here would also testify. Indiaplaza, to me, is somehow connected to packages of happiness, ‘fruits of labour’ if you would have it or simply said ‘benefits’ of an obsession with Sulekha.com.

            This particular package did not disappoint me – it was a slim, red book. Even before I completely unwrapped the book, the words ‘BS Keshav’ jumped up and walloped me between the eyes. The bloke’s made it! I said to myself. I have to admit, there was jealousy in that thought. But more than jealousy, there was a sense of pride too. For he is one of us.

            As I leafed through the books, I could only recall privileged ‘meet-ups’ with the man himself. Warm, erudite and always accompanied by a book. No wonder that he’s so knowledgeable, I observed and made a mental note to read a book every week. That was a fine resolution – but honestly, this one book a week is a lot of pressure. I can barely find the time to read out Cinderella and Peter Pan to my kids. It’s been 24 weeks since I made that resolution and I have read only five books so far – Cinderella and Peter Pan being two of them!

            But then I digress. This is about the book ‘Subbu Chronicles – A Series of Adventures’ by BS Keshav. The stories are familiar, I have read them, I reasoned and scanned Page No.1. That was a mistake, I was soon reading the entire book (I was surprised that there were 14 episodes chronicled! I thought there were only four or five) – for I couldn’t help noticing that the plots were engrossing and clever, in fact absolutely clever and smartass. The blogs were fun reads, but when put in a book – neatly edited, to preserve continuity, it’s a better read.

            Plus the sketches – that’s a Keshav ‘value addition.’ Neat sketches populate the book – there’s one of a burly Shekhar Marathe on a Bullet. It kind of gives an insight into what the author was thinking. Each sketch tells a story – the underworld, the Bandstand promenade, the bargirl…(I only wish there had been a sketch for the lovemaking episode between Subbu and Sushma, because BSK talks of a ‘perfect breast,’  now how would that be in a silicone world? Unfortunately, the teaser that he is, he conveniently fails to make a clean breast of it).

            Talking of love, I recall how at one point of time, I had pleaded Keshav to write something more on the Subbu-Sushma story. I had even contributed a few words, to goad him to get all syrupy – but the good man that he is, with the wisdom of a life well lived, fortunately spared us that misery. It was a blast though, the extract of my contri is reproduced below for the discerning reader:-

            "Subbu was neck deep in love...he was also neck-deep in water, courtesy the unabated Mumbai monsoons. Bits and pieces of flotsam drifted past his eyes in the swirling water as he waded through clogged SV Road. Subbu then realised that it was not debris...but it was actually bits and pieces of his life that swam before his eyes. Realisation didn't dawn like the steady stream of squatters on Matunga's railway tracks but hit him between his eyes like the first Scud thundering down on a hundred women and children in Iraq...unsuspecting, unwarned and plain friggin helpless!
Sushma had swept into his life and gathered all the bits and pieces of his life and completed him. Subbu plagariased (for the first time in his brief existence) and said aloud, "You COMPLETE ME!) ....and swallowed half a gallon of cholera, jaundice and toxic waste that poured down his lovelorn and parched throat.
A knot gripped his stomach, when he chanced upon the enormity of the moment...a moment later he realised that it was a submerged road divider that had gashed his stomach and had also chanced upon the enormity in his pants...."

            Now you know why BSK didn’t listen to me.

            Then there was this other occasion when I felt sorry for the toughie Shekhar Marathe, who just went about his life – looking all tough but with no woman to call his own. That’s when I borrowed Supriya’s Maya (from a fantastic ‘child of the earth’ series - if you haven’t read them, then I recommend you delve into Supriya’s archives and discover Maya. But do come back and thank me please…)

            So one fine day, when BSK wrote Shekhar Marathe had been shot – I conjured up a scene where he is tended by the nun, Sister Maya. Here’s what transpired:-

            “The cross around Maya’s neck dangled down to Shekhar’s lips, as Maya changed the dressing on Shekhar’s crimson bullet wound. It was a cross, she was finding…with every passing second…difficult to bear. Shekhar’s rugged features did not escape her cloistered vision. Maya had lived her life as a child of the earth…she now wanted more, she wanted to touch the sky, but the faded green ceiling of the ‘safehouse’ in Alibag bound her.

            Shekhar struggled to open his eyes…and shut them quickly. He couldn’t believe what he saw….a penguin from the north pole - tending to his wound…truly, it was an illusion…a mirage….Shekhar’s drugged mind battled to find the word….

            “Maya…,” Shekhar’s lips spoke softly.

            Maya froze. It was a sign. Here was a stranger, in the throes of pain, who had never set his eyes on her….but was uttering her name with such tenderness.

            The cross around Maya’s neck grew heavier and heavier…

            (Maya’s hernia problem aggravated thus, unknown to her…)”

            BSK didn’t heed that too. No marks for guessing why.

            Anyways, I am done with the book. A colleague has now borrowed it. That’s disappointing – I want him to buy it. Because the way I see it, this Book Series is a wonderful initiative – and I wish in the months to come, we’d get to see books by other bloggers too. Such a platform is a rarity in these days of busy publishers who wouldn’t touch you, unless you are a certified celebrity. One can send a manuscript to a publisher and grow a beard waiting for a reply. The beard would soon tickle the chest but the reply – nah! Chances are, you are still waiting for it.

            So for all of us bloggers here who dream of getting their name in print, I must beseech you to support this Book Series initiative. Common sense will tell – the second book will come out only if the first one did well, in a commercial sense – as simple as that!

            But honestly speaking - the book is an entertaining read – no Rushdie or a Gabriel Garcia Marquez. But what the hell, if a Chetan Bhagat can make it (thanks to smart marketing), I find no reason why this can’t or why this shouldn’t! So tell you what, guys, do buy the book and make this a success – else the compilations that we are looking forward to, from the rest of us, won’t see the daylight – all because of what is popularly termed as ‘publicity’ or lack of it. 

p.s. Yep…if you are wondering, I have sent a manuscript to a publisher and I am still waiting for their reply. It’s been over six months now!