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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3 August 2005
The Seduction Of Men
By the way, the original poem is The Naming Of Cats, over here, set to music by the marvellous Andrew Lloyd Weber which you should totally download.
The seduction of men is a difficult matter,
It isn't just one of your holiday games,
You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter,
When I tell you to focus solely on your aim(s).
First of all, there's the make-up, applied slowly, applied well,
Such as Yves St. Laurent, or Revlon, or Maybelline,
Such as Lakme or Gerda Spillman or Chanel,
All of them guaranteed to make your face look clean.
You can use some perfume to make yourself smell divine,
Such as Tommy Girl, or Cool Water or Escada or Isis,
Such as Pleasures or J'Adore or Bvlgari or Calvin Klein,
And all of them available for fixed prices.
But (and this is tricky) a man needs attention,
More than your perfume or your make-up brands,
So be assertive, ex-boyfriends do not mention,
And he'll soon be eating out of your hands.
I may have stretched the truth and the rhyme,
But really, I have nothing further to say,
These days I have very little, sometime no, time,
And blogging simply can't be done every day.
Parodies are not something I do well,
I'm the first to admit it, but don't too heartily agree,
I wish the race of men whom I encounter would burn in hell,
Or at least, think twice, think three times, before they fuck with me.
[Oof. That was harder than I thought it would be. Really. I'll stick with prose, now, thank you very much. Prose is totally the way to go. Oh, and please don't take my advice in this poem, I was experimenting with poetic license. I never wear make-up, except for a little kajal. Be yourself (actually, that's crap because if everyone GOT everyone else just by being themselves, there would be no single women in this world. I hate this whole "be yourself" bullshit.) Let me rephrase: be smart, be sexy and be comfortable. Okay? It should work. Either way, let me know how it goes :)]