My latest book is The One Who Swam With The Fishes.
"A mesmerizing account of the well-known story of Matsyagandha ... and her transformation from fisherman’s daughter to Satyavati, Santanu’s royal consort and the Mother/Progenitor of the Kuru clan." - Hindustan Times
"Themes of fate, morality and power overlay a subtle and essential feminism to make this lyrical book a must-read. If this is Madhavan’s first book in the Girls from the Mahabharata series, there is much to look forward to in the months to come." - Open Magazine
"A gleeful dollop of Blytonian magic ... Reddy Madhavan is also able to tackle some fairly sensitive subjects such as identity, the love of and karmic ties with parents, adoption, the first sexual encounter, loneliness, and my favourite, feminist rage." - Scroll
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21 May 2005
A Series Of Unrelated (and some rather unfortunate) Events
The lizard has become quite a regular fixture now. He comes out around three, scurries up the wall and sits there for a while looking at us. Then he retires behind the old newspapers taped up against the window to keep the sun out. He usually comes out later in the evening too, but then there are so many people there and someone will invariably squeal, "Oooh, yuck! It's a lizard!" and then he will leave; a hurt expression on his face.
"We should name him," I said the other day.
"Yeah," said another not-squeamish colleague, "He looks like a Shrikanto."
So Shrikanto he is, despite Colleague One going, "Not Bengali! He is so not Bengali! Why have you given him a Bong name?" She's Bengali herself, by the way, in case you hadn't guessed and her lizard trauma dates back to when she and her family unwittingly consumed a lizard that had fallen into a hot rice cooker and then had to get their stomachs pumped. Oh dear. It's not a pretty story and I think Shrikanto overheard it because he avoids her dutifully, this Lizard Cannibal.
We also had a grasshopper the other day, which made me squeal, not liking flying insects. But she was named Tun-tun and I fervently hope Shrikanto has consumed her somewhere.
I was at Hookah tonight, for some new band they had just gotten--Arabic sarangi type. Actually I was there to interview the disciple of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and very excited I was too, because I've had Afreen Afreen on repeat in my car for ages now. I've reviewed Hookah before, way back when it first opened and I had taken New Boy with me and he spent the entire evening flirting with Hot PR Chick. Tonight I figured since New Boy wasn't around anymore, it was a good oppurtunity for me to flirt with the Hookah owner who is very cute. So I did, we even giggled about star signs and all that and then I noticed that Hot PR Chick and Hookah Guy were giving each other long looks over my head (which was pretty easy, considering they were both GIANTS).
So then I asked Hot PR Chick, very sweetly whether she and Hookah Guy were an item. And she blushed and nodded. And I wanted to impale myself on the stirrer that came with my LIT. But I drank it instead.
Then I interviewed the band and the band leader was pretty damn cute. I mean, a) he's a musician and b) he had long hair and that pretty much finished me. So I batted my eyelashes and grinned very widely and he got chattier and chattier, telling me all about the belly dancer instructor who told him she didn't drink and then downed two martinis and did unmentionable things. (Well, he refused to mention them. If I knew, I would've told you, I promise). And then he turned to the young shy sarangi player and said how at some concert a girl climbed onto stage and kissed him. And the young shy sarangi player blushed and I gave him a "oh-how-nice-for-you" nod and turned back to the band leader and saw *sigh* his fingers entwined with the sarangi players, rubbing across the knuckles. Firmly, without a doubt entwined.
(Here's a question: Where do you look when someone's holding hands in front of you? Is it rude to let your eyes drop or do you have to stare, like I did, for fear of appearing homophobic, zombie-like at the wall between their heads? Honestly, I had a crick in my neck from not bending it for so long)
(ps: that Nusrat Disciple never showed. Fever or something.)
This must be said. Even though I normally don't make public announcements on this blog, I assume some of the people who read it must be women in Delhi. The other day I was driving to a friend's house and it wasn't even that late, only about 9.30 and my turn was right after the bus stop. So I waited behind the bus for it to move so I could move and I was aware of this creepy looking middle aged man staring at me. And just as the bus started to move and I put my car in first gear, so I could move too, he tried to open the back door and get in.
Luckily, my doors were locked and my windows up, but imagine if they hadn't been? I wouldn't be writing this for one. And so please, please, please invest in a weapon. Pepper spray is your best bet, you get it in Defence Colony Market for about 395 and from what friends tell me, it really works. You totally should. I'm going to, tomorrow.