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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1 November 2008
And on the seventh day, he created Hallowali, and it was GOOD
There weren't that many people--twelve at the most crowded--but there was so much alcohol and so much chattering that the party went on till the wee sma's. Plus we played Taboo! (Which I know, sounds really boring and old-people-esque, but it was excellent fun with the drunkeness and the slurring and the cut throat competition in the air.)
Quite a fun week, actually. I went to the Hawaiian Shack one night with Ira and got lobbed onto by many men, whom we fended off valiantly with our light sabres. (Random Guy: What's your name? Me: My name is I Have A Boyfriend. Him: Oh. Okay. So what's your last name, then?) When we got to the bar, the DJ yelled, "Free tequila shots for everybody!" and Ira and I squealed and hung over the bar and opened our mouths as the bartender poured massive amounts of tequila into them (and yes, it spilled everywhere. The next morning I woke up and got drunk all over again with the fumes.)
And JC came home, came home to meeeeeeeee! Of course, he also came home to some nasty food poisoning bug, which I suspect is like malaria or something. What is with me and sickly firangis? I'm being all nurse like (again!) and being the occasional head stroking, Sprite fetching, laundry folding girlfriend of his dreams. Of course, I'm not being appreciated. Even as I sit here, sacrificing time and energy and resources, he is reading this over my shoulder and not only making snarky comments about my nursing capabilities but also correcting my grammar. Seriously. I should leave him alone to ROT, YOU HEAR ME? ROT!! ("You're so mean!" he says, poking my side. Sigh, men and their instablities.)
I also went and saw BB's play yesterday. Called The Shape Of Things, it was on at the NCPA and should be on again in November, and you should totally see it. Then she bought us post-play shots of many things and some champagne and by the time I got home to my (unappreciative) boyfriend, I was all wheeeeeeee and yay and bring on the drunky.
I've also been reading this site today, I love snarky websites such as this one, and I thought a nice, bitchy selection of blog reviews might be fun to peruse because I have nothing else to do. They also reviewed me because SOMEONE (I know you're out there and I will get you) submitted my site and it wasn't all oh-you're-incredible but it wasn't all oh-you-suck either. Fair enough. But sometimes, I think the thing with these review sites, especially if you have the same people on it, they, well, start looking a little generic. I can tell which blogs they like and which they won't, just by clicking on the URLs. My (completely unsolicited) advice to Ask And Ye Shall Receive? Try and match the profile of the blog you're reviewing with the reviewer. For instance, your general mom blog could be reviewed by a mom blogger, a food blog by a food blogger and so on. It would give an interesting perspective, and, it must be said, make you sound less jaded and cynical and oh-we're-so-cool-and-you're-not. (Sadly, I can't find their review of my site, but it's there somewhere.) Admittedly, this does sound a little bit like sour grapes, but eh, I'm all nursed out, I'm beyond sounding politically correct at this point. Make of my review of a blog review blog, what you will.
Back to Sir Grumpalot. Later.