See Paris for me...

I pick up a few books from a local bookstore everytime i go home. Last week i returned to kuwait with 4 new titles and one among them is 'See Paris for me' authored by Preeti Aisoli. I have never heard about her or read any review about the book. I picked it up for the namesake. From the back cover i assumed it would dvelve into the intriacies of a mature passionate relationship outside marriage.

The narration is more or less a diary entry narrating a forbidden relationshp between two mature individuals. The story is set in Paris and takes you through almost all major museums, concert halls and works of painters.  Its about Sadhvi, wife of a diplomat posted in Paris who gets intensly attracted to a scholar teacher.

The story is set in Paris, Budapest and hydrebad. Both of them are mature, inteligent with a common interest in arts, musuems and concerts. Readers need to have patience for loads of narrtive on music and art. Her yearning for him and the emotional struggle to let go of it forms the underlying narrative. They occcasionally meet at her home for lunch with other friends or chance meetings at museums or on the numerous romantic parisian streets.

They rarely talk freely about their relationship. But their meetings can be best summarised by " deprived of the will to move they sat next to each other in unquiet silence. The unspoken swirled around them in dizzly 
circles".

This novel celebrates the silent yearning at times the soul craves for and is painted in a canvas that sketches the struggle to let go of it too.

Strictly for moody romantic art lovers.

From Kabul to Paris...just to be alive!

She is a widow in her late sixties living with her youngest unmarried daughter in Paris. Its a small house with minimal furniture a dire contrast from her palatial bungalow in Afghanistan. She looked frail but there was nobility in her eyes and in her weak hunched gait.

She is the wife of a former general and minister of the erstwhile Rabbani government. The family sought asylum in Paris soon after Taliban deluged the power corridors of Kabul leaving behind countless bodies that warmed the power seats of government, military and royalty.

She along with her husband six daughters and a son lived a quiet life in the suburbs of Paris. There were no more servants to house keep or to prepare lavish Afghani menus the family was used for generations. Dusty albums- the only reminder of their days in a pre-taliban kabul opened up on my lap.

I was stunned at the beauty she was in her engagement picture. She wore a dark green short sleeve dress that revealed her legs from the knees. She was seated with her head tilted towards the right showing the flowers arranged on the silk hat she was wearing. Hard to imagine that Kabul had once adorned naked legs and flowery hats that would put any Jane Austen character to shame.

There were numerous pictures of the couple visitng Russia, Azerbeijan, Pakistan, India and parts of Europe. They were mostly pictured with army generals and ministers. From the hectic political and socilite life adjusting to a life of a refugee took its toll on the family. but they were content to be alive.

This was a family who lost all their wealth, belongings and roots but managed to survive Taliban. But not many were as lucky as she was.