BOOK REVIEW : by Dr Sunil Kaushal

 

                                          Dr Santosh Bakaya’s :

     ‘Flights From My Terrace: The Boy In Yellow Knickers

And Other Essays

 

                                                  

Dr. Santosh Bakaya, based at Jaipur, is an academician, poet and author who
 
started writing limericks while in the sixth standard.

Her father, himself a writer, greatly influenced her love for writing.

Writing mystery novels for young adults, she went on to a book of essays- ‘Flights From My Terrace,’ a book of memoirs and some essays. She has been critically acclaimed for her poetic biography – ‘Ballad Of Bapu.’ She has also won the Reuel  International Award for her long poem, ‘O Hark’ in May,2016. The Pentasi b friendship Poetry group and the Ghana Government conferred her with the Universal Inspirational Award. Many of her poems have made it to the highly commendable category of Destiny Poets, a UK based poetry website, besides having figured in many international anthologies. Her book, 'Where are the Lilacs', a collection of peace poems, is also winning international laurels. Her other books are ‘Under the Apple Boughs,’ besides she has co-edited a compilation of prize winning ghost stories, ‘Darkness there, but Something More,’ and two anthologies- one of contemporary women poets and the other an anthology on parents, ‘Umbilical Chords.’ Her stories in the anthology, ‘Silhouette I &II’ are captivating.   

                                                      

 ‘Flights From My Terrace’ is a delightful collection of 58 essays, mostly memoirs and ‘The Boy in Yellow Knickers’ an endearing experience during her trip to Accra, Ghana. The narrative not only captures the interest of the reader but amuses and excites as well, being full of real life. The bite sized chapters make for great reading for those on the go. It is a book I would recommend for all reasons and all seasons, all ages and all stages.  

First my eleven year old grand- daughter - grabbed the book as soon the courier was delivered in my hands, and had hopped onto Santosh’s chariot (the wings of her imagination), before I could get a chance myself. Off and on I would surreptitiously lay my hands on it, read a chapter or two, when the little scamp did not lock it in her cupboard, before going to school !

With a great sense of loss, I shut the book ‘Flights from my Terrace’ as I finished reading it. It took me much longer than the time I’ve ever spent reading such a readable and compelling book as this one. Halfway through, I deliberately slowed down, taking it in slowly, savoring it like the last piece of my favorite chocolate, not wanting it to finish. But one day it finally did.

The book awakens emotions, sensibilities and ignites a curiosity about the minutest aspects of everyday life. She paints it with a brush of keen observation, an identification and connection with lives of all colours and hues, the rich and poor, the master and worker, parents and children, siblings and friends, students and teachers—in fact there is no aspect of life she does not touch, in the way we think or believe, how we form relationships and what we ask for in life.

That truly sends the reader too on a journey of nostalgia and introspection as she chronicles her mind’s meanderings into nostalgic lanes, replete with memories of her childhood, her parental home, the loss of her grandmother and later her beloved father, including the loss of her homeland. She grieves as deeply for her longtime aged helper Mitthu Khan and Nipper, her pet.  Her own childhood reawakens as she takes trips back and forth into her daughter, Iha’s childhood.  Throughout, her daughter and her husband, Lalit’s tugs and pulls keep bringing her back to the reality of the present or she would perpetually be on flights into time and space like the colourful kites that make a frequent appearance in her writings.

One feels that the world only revolves around me and that there is no room for anything else beyond what is in and around my life. Just extend your vision with Santosh and see the world with eyes meant for a wider canvas. She reminds me of the time I saw the first cinemascope movie in color - was it Mother India or Navrang, I don’t remember, but my view of the cinema world changed forever. That is what she does to her readers.

Her stories make you ask ….what is life?

Everyday what she experiences, sees or hears becomes fuel for her creative          mind. Every interaction, item, and event inspires her into writing, prompts her imagination, and entices the reader into exploring her world as she travels in her chariot from her childhood to her present life as a prolific writer.

She waves her pen like a magic wand, as she describes heady men, headless mannequins, birds that fall to the ground to be healed by a family of compassionate souls, be it her father, her daughter and husband or Santosh herself; the same birds soaring again into the limitless skies having been tended to, by their loving and caring hands; Nipper and Lazy, as much her family as her merry band of siblings and friends, with her as a ring leader and eager participant and prankster in all the escapades they undertook; sunrises vying with sunsets in descriptions of their glorious beauty, the sands and storms of arid Rajasthan juxtaposed against the splendorous  and scintillating beauty of her ‘heart land’ Kashmir where the placid waters of the Dal lake, the lilacs, the cuisines spiced with the heart warming love of her homeland’s people, tug at the heartstrings as she is pulled towards her roots, yet sees no hope of a return, feeling a stranger in her own home.

Her emotions range from the excited screeching and yelling of a youngster, the grief of losing loved ones, the warmth of maternal love as she delights and at times gets exasperated at the different stages and moods as her daughter grows from infancy to adulthood, the struggles of living life as the common man, travelling to and from Bharatpur to Jaipur in ramshackle buses with all sorts of climatic challenges, but all the time writing, writing and writing. I wonder if anything ever escapes her keen eye as it takes in more than is visible to most of us. When she takes us along on her travels, she is not showing us new lands or new experiences – all she does is show us our everyday life with a new pair of eyes.

The words and phrases that slip off her pen, like ‘so much of a muchness’, facebooker prize, to-ing and fro-ing or pighling’ lend a delightful newness to the English language, adding to her already vast and astounding vocabulary be it metaphors, similes or alliteration.

 I cannot sign off without mentioning the comments of my eleven year old grand- daughter, Mishti –‘ Nancy (her endearment for me) this book is awesome. I read many chapters but you know, today I read that story Daughter’s Day.’

 ‘So, did you enjoy it?’

‘I was overwhelmed to realize that every day is Daughter’s Day for a mother !’

Profound observation gleaned by a little child, for Santosh has woven many such philosophical thoughts into her writings which are full of bonhomie, camaraderie and lighthearted humour as well.

 ‘Yes, another request Naani - can I please have this book autographed by Aunty?’