Orhan Pamuk at the Jaipur Literature Festival

The Jaipur Literature Festival 2011 is here. Its an annual festival that has been taking place in the capital of Rajasthan since 2006 and happens to be the largest festival of its kind in the whole of Asia ( I wonder if China would catch us soon here as well).

Image Source - www.spitalfieldslife.com
Photograph of Orhan Pamuk by Jerry Bauer

The festival happening in itself is great news, but what caught my attention is the presence of Nobel laureate Orhan Pamuk. I am a die-hard Pamuk and his presence in India is an amazing news. Just his presence is enough to make me visit Jaipur this weekend, but then there is also Salman Rushdie, Vikram Seth, Ian McEvan and Kiran Desai. What an absolutely irresistible ensemble! It would be fantastic to hear these literary greats and know about their future plans, their upcoming books, their inspirations and so on. All of these and more have inspired me over the years, not just about reading, but life itself. That makes Jaipur a sacred city to me right now!

Even if I do not visit the festival, I would certainly follow it regularly online and perhaps update the other fans of books here. But if you are in Jaipur, do visit the festival, the entry for which is free, and leave a comment here as well about your experience.

Can I?

It actually hurts to read any further. I know why am getting so involved with the book now, and that is scary...

I want it to end differently, for it to be a little less painful. But I only see it getting darker ahead...

Can I stop reading it now? Will that stop things, that are already set in motion?

snow...

"With so much to discuss, he knew she would be there soon, but still it wasn't long before he fell prey to a dark pessimism. First, he imagined that she had been delayed because she'd run into her father; then he began to worry that she didn't want to be with him. The old ache returned, spreading from his stomach like poison. If this was what other called love pangs, they held no promise of happiness. As his love for her deepened, these dark panics seemed to descend on him even faster. He was well aware of this, but he was right to assume that these attacks, these fearsome fantasies of deception and heartbreak, had anything to do with what others called 'love'? He seemed alone in describing the experience in terms of misery and defeat. Being unable to imagine bragging about it, as everyone else bragged of love, he could only suppose that his own brand of it was abnormal, and this bothered him more than anything else."

You are Not Really going to Die, Sir, Are You?
Several Rounds of Bargaining in Which Life Vies with the Theatre, and Art with Politics

SNOW, Orhan Pamuk