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?’
