Nestled behind the Qutab Minar, within walking distance from Mehrauli
DTC Bus Stand, is the Dargah of the 13th century, Sufi saint, Khwaja Qutbuddin
Bakhtiar Kaki. This is the venue for the annual Phoolwalon-ki-sair Festival.
Khwaja Qutbuddin Bakhtir Kaki, said to be in the same line of Sufi
Saints from Ajmer Sherif, lies quietly in the dargah. People say about him, “You,
love silence”, the “you” meaning to refer to the Sufi Saint.
The road, to the Dargah is lined with vendors and food stalls. And
people, quintessential as they come. Unlike both Ajmer and the Dargah at
Nizamuddin, in Delhi, the Dargah of Qutbuddin Bakhtiar is quiet and not hounded
by too many people, although, many from India and abroad visit him regularly.
Women are not allowed inside the dargah and must be satisfied to pray
through the exquisitely carved in marble, windows, which allow the women to see
the dargah, without being visible to the men from inside. So yours truly too,
joined the women and prayed holding the marble veiled window.
The dargah complex houses graves
of later Mughal emperors, Bahadur Shah I, Shah Alam II, and Akbar II, in an
adjacent marble enclosure. To the left of the dargah, lies Moti Masjid, a small
mosque, built for private prayer by the son of Aurangzeb, Bahadur Shah I.
The Slave Dynasty ruler of the Delhi Sultanate, Balban's tomb was
constructed here in the 13th century. It is architecturally important structure
as it is the first true arch in Indo-Islamic architecture. Another tomb, that
of Balban's son, Khan Shahid, who died before he could be crowned, is also
located nearby in Mehrauli Archeological Park.
A baoli or stepwell known as Rajon Ki Baoli was constructed in 1506
during Sikandar Lodhi's reign. It was used to store water though it is now
completely dried and is now known as Sukhi Baoli (dry well).
The Jamali Kamali mosque was built in 1528,in honour of the Sufi saint
Shaikh Hamid bin Fazlullah, also known as Dervish Shaikh Jamali Kamboh Dihlawi
or Jalal Khan. The saint's tomb built in 1536 upon his death is adjacent to the
mosque.
The Adham Khan's Tomb was constructed by Emperor Akbar in memory of his
foster brother and general Adham Khan in 1566. The tomb, also known as
Bhulbhulaiyan, as one could get lost in the labyrinth of its passages, it was
later used by the British as a residence, rest house and even as a police
station. Close to Adham Khan's tomb, lies that of another Mughal General,
Muhammad Quli Khan,later it served as the residence of Sir Thomas Metcalfe,
Governor-General’s Agent at the Mughal court. The Mehrauli Archaeological Park
spread over 200 acre, adjacent to Qutb Minar site was redeveloped in 1997.
Much of the matter you have read above is thanks to Wikipedia. What is
not possible to capture in words is the experience of the dargah as well as the
old world feeling that go with this dargah.
My effort has been to capture that for my readers. Enjoy!
Miss not the quiet by lanes of Kolkata, for oft they conceal
great minds; although, if you ask, even the paan-bidi
wala, he will lead you to their home. Nor must your eyes overlook the
aesthetically done with beautiful antique furniture and large paintings, dimly
lit dark rooms, whose walls tell stories, no less than half a century old. In one such home, resides, India’s pride, the
brilliant film maker, Rituparno Ghosh.
His name and work go far beyond the domain of the ordinary to reach out
to the sky, where freedom of expression weds the colours and hues of human
relationships, in its diverse alternate shades.
Engaged with presenting human relationships from two points, loneliness and
companionship, finding a friend in unlikely places, indeed, all of Rituparno
Ghosh’s films talk recurring same subject and bring the viewer to address
realities they do not acknowledge consciously. Questioning the institution of
marriage, it’s happily ever after cover which hide deeper schism between
couple, the film maker’s representation of the urban middle class families is
unprecedented on Bengali screen.
“I was the first at least in Bengali films to deal with the
urban middle class home in a manner that some poignant truths of their lives
came out which have not been spoken of before. For the first time the audience
was watching things that had remained buried within them; in fact, there was a
denial of this truth. So in a way it was some kind of getting into the
unchartered waters, at the same time dealing with loneliness and companionship
and questioning the whole notion of the two.”
In Dahan, the
first film that talked about marital rape, or the National Film Award winner, UnisheApril (19th April) depicting the stressed relationship
between a divorced couple, and the strained mother-daughter relationship, Utsab, which show complex set of
problems in a family who have gathered for the annual Durgapujo, or Shubho Muhurat, showing parallel relationships running from
past to present, a sleuth and a victim find companionship in each other, even
as a medley of human emotions, compassion and empathy come to the fore and
leave the audience with much food for thought, there is no right and wrong, no
judgment made at any time. This reflects Rituparno Ghosh’s own aspiration as
non-judgmental. His films, in Hindi, English and Bengali, are his voice to
artistically reach that destination.
When asked whether he thinks a committed live-in relationship
is better than a marriage, he is wise.
“I don’t condemn marriage nor is it something I am
immediately elated about; it is how you want to conduct yourself, and we can’t
preempt our behavior at any stage. Marriage is not about two individuals; it is
two families. When you are staying together there are certain odds you are
facing. Are you staying together just to challenge the institution of marriage,
or are you really living together happily? Quite often, just because, we have
chosen to live together over marriage, there is an extra effort to prove that
we are happy, which may be artificial at times. In the face of being
marginalized for living lives that do not conform to society, it is entirely
upon our fortitude and patience, our ability to complement each other that make the
relationship last.”
Rituparno Ghosh (49) is blessed with fingers that give away
his parents’ profession as artists. These long, perfectly manicured hands
learned their first lessons in film making with his father, who made low budget
documentary films, converting the family’s dining table into his editing table!
Further, his love of cinema took a serious turn when at 12, in 1975, Doordarshan
Kolkata started airing Hindi and Bengali cinema on Sunday evenings. ‘It was
then only a matter of scale,’ he says when armed with the technique of making films
and ten years in advertising experience, the final push came while shooting a
documentary, Vande Mataram with
Shabana Azmi. She suggested that he take up making films for the larger screen.
Hirer Angti, a children’s film, was
his first. He was young and hungry for
fame and recognition. With Unishe April,
his second, he rose to become one of India’s best known film-writer and Directors.
From 1994 to 2010, almost year on year,
Rituparno Ghosh won Awards at the national and international level.
With his latest film, Chitrangada
(A), released in Kolkata, in August, 2012, now available across India, on
DVD, from 11th February, 2013, Rituparno Ghosh has ventured upon a
yet again widely discussed subject of same sex relationships and the Sex Reassignment
Surgery (SRS).
“After Article 377, it has actually given visibility to
homosexuality and there is a clear line drawn in the minds of people between
homosexuality and heterosexuality. What lies with the entire gender matrix of
various kinds of sexual desires had not been discussed before on screen. Chitrangada wanted to talk about the
liminality of one’s desire to belong to a particular sexuality and the entire
debate of gender and sex and the need to have an altered body, which everyone
can wish to have. We are all working toward sculpting our own gender identity;
women alter their bodies at Beauty Parlours, men get six packs. No
transformation is actually over, it is a process; it is fluid.”
Clearly,
Rituparno Ghosh’s mind is larger than life. The world will confer, in life and on
the silver screen.
This article by Julia Dutta was first published in Atelier India, March 2013 Issue of the magazine. If you are not in India, write to: Creative Nest Media Pvt. Ltd, M-66, Punj House, Outer Circle, Connaught Place, New Delhi - 110 001 Email:info@creativenestmedia.comAdd caption
You might have looked hard at the Jaipur
Book Festival for her, or even expected her to be seen at book readings in
Delhi, but she is best found in Wikipedia
prominently figuring as the author who created the 17th century, detective Muzaffar
Jang, placed historically in the Mughal period in India. With her debut novel in
The Englishman’s Cameo, Madhulika
Liddle secured her place in the history of the literary world of Indian authors
writing in English, to give India its first detective placed in a period.
Liddle (40) began writing when she was 6
years old!
“My
mother used to subscribe to Femina and I thought it was the perfect magazine, a
story here, a recipe there, some fashion and so I emulated it and had my own Madhu’s Magazine, which had a story, a
grotty recipe, some drawings, it had a bit of fashion with little swashes of
material hanging out...!”
The journey with words had begun but it was
much later, in her late twenties that Liddle began to look at writing more
seriously.
Into her third book featuring Muzaffar Jang,
the latest being Engraved in Stone, Liddle’s
books sell even before the launch. The sheer romance of a period equals the
love and addiction people have developed for her main character. The language
is excellent and the plot so engaging that the reader is kept hooked till the end.
Madhulika Liddle studied Hotel Management. But
it was her historian older sister who became her source of inspiration for
writing in the Maurya period. Besides, when her brother-in-law, passionate about
historical detective novels brought into the family, trunk loads of novels, Madhulika
Liddle got hooked. It is then she decided that she was going to create one
herself.
“When I read these books I found that in
almost every period of history there is a detective - there is a medieval
Chinese detective, a Welsh monk, an Egyptian eunuch and I thought why not one
from India? If there has to be one, then, I must create one.”
And bingo! Muzaffar Jang was born! The
enormous amount of literature and research material available on the period helped
to write stories placed in the Mughal period.
The creation of a detective placed in a
period, is not the only first that has graced Liddle. The first prize at
Femina’s thriller contest with her story, Silent
Fear, now a part of her latest humour short story collection, My Lawfully Wedded Husband was followed by a
first at The Commonwealth Broadcasting Association, with The
Morning Swim; again a first at Sulekha.com, Crossing Paths. A Suitor for Saraswatiwas the
second runner-up in The India Smiles Contest. Also, in Zubaan
21
Under 40 short stories collection All this added a philip to her confidence
and she realised that she could write stories that people liked to read.
“I would like to be known as an author who
writes stories in different genre and not only one, including socially relevant
stories. The story which won the CBA competition is one such. I am hoping to
bring out a collection of stories which showcase this aspect of my writing.”
Liddle follows a strict discipline. She does
at least 1000 words a week day. She reads a lot, does not watch Television and
writes throughout the day. She also writes frequent on her blog on cinema,
before 1970.
She regards her husband, Tarun Bhandari as
her greatest support. It was he who stood by her when she decided to leave her job
to pursue a career in writing.
“He is the sweetest thing in life,” says
Liddle coyly. “Actually I would not have been an author today if not for him. He
is my first level editor, and the in-house marketing person for my books.”
Cheers to Tarun for supporting the lady’s success,
as India’s first historical detective
novelist. Indeed, Madhulika Liddle’s name is engraved in stone for giving
birth to Muzaffar Jang, from India.
The article by Julia Dutta was first published in the March 2013 issue: Atelier Diva, write to: Creative Nest Media Pvt. Ltd, M-66, Punj House, Outer Circle, Connaught Place, New Delhi - 110 001 Email: info@creativenestmedia.com
Amit Chaudhuri is wrong when he says, The Skinning Tree, which won The Tibor Jones South Asian Prize for 2012, is ‘About Calcutta in the 40s’. Indeed, the story is placed in that period, but is not the whole story. Further, the book publisher, Picador India uses Chaudhuri’s brief one-liner to market it, by placing the statement at the back of the book. But the content of the book goes way beyond these narrow confines, to make a compelling read.
I am sure everyone who is a sports buff, would have heard of Srikumar Sen? If not, then, both the Award and his book, The Skinning Tree, have placed him firmly on Top of the reader’s mind.
Written about the historical period in India, mainly Calcutta and Gaddi, The Skinning Tree revives memories of the past, 1940s. It showcases the life of educated, affluent Bengali families, who were closely associated with the British. It tells you about, how, these families needed to keep up with the Jones by ensuring their children went to schools run by the British, although they ensured their own children went to schools, exclusively meant for them. And most importantly, it opens up, perhaps for the first time, the Pandora’s Box, on what went on in these all-boys boarding schools where Indians from affluent backgrounds sent their boys and how they coped with it.
Nine year old Sabby, is sent away to boarding school in Gaddi, because, his parents fear that the Japanese are going to occupy Calcutta. Established Journalists of those times, the wining and dining that keep the couple busy by day and night, are happy their only son, Sabby is at home with his grandmother and joyously going to his Elementary School. Propelled by their fear, though, they decide to send Sabby away to the boarding school, so he is safe. But this measure is ill received by Sabby who hates his new school and dreams his parents will come as promised during the Easter holidays and take him back, from the harshness of school. Run by the Catholic Fathers, they are strict disciplinarians, who do not spare the rod. His heart breaks when a letter arrives from home saying that his parents, caught up with their lives, now that his grandmother has suddenly died too, would not be able to come to see him after all! This undoubtedly dashes his hope of escape the school. Thanatos takes over the young boy as he runs on top of the high wall that shuts off the world outside from the isolated school, from which, if he fell, there would be only death, the final escape from this hell. Caught by his friend, he has been saved from dying but not from the disciplinarian whip, of the Father, who lashes out on him, for breaking the rules.
At this juncture, Eros, takes over Thanatos, and young Sabby makes another escape from the hell within, by giving himself to the new life he is living in boarding school, altering his perception of it and taking it on, whole heartedly. His home in Calcutta and his dear ones are forgotten / replaced by friends in school. The pages of the book become testimony to what is true friendship among boys, put away in boarding schools. He begins to learn and use the language spoken by the boys, quintessentially punctuated with words, only familiar to them. He begins to participate in acts that indicate how the boys at school have learned to cope with the administration - the rigorous, often, violent disciplinarian actions, teach them to release the anger and violence received from the authorities by giving it back in equal measure, if not more, to things, persons, animals, birds and bees, anything that is vulnerable and cannot retaliate back. Killing and skinning snakes, squirrels and birds, only to dump the dead on The Skinning Tree, which becomes the emblem of destruction. The helpless tree standing just outside the boundary wall, bares the pain and the strife, the misery and the misplaced hatred, from the boys. Finally, though, one day, as if in connivance with young Sabby, she changes her stance from a silent victim to retaliate, by giving way when moments after, Sabby fearing strict disciplinary action for breaking rules, fails to heed a plea for help, and the skinning tree unable to bear the burden of giving support, gives way. Consequently, a lesson from life is doled out to a figure of authority - what goes round, comes around. Violence is met with violence, alright!
The book is autobiographical and bears testimony to an act that remained to trouble the psyche of the writer and while putting the book down, the reader hopes that, by writing it, the guilt so long held close in the crevices of the mind, or the remorse, might have found its peace. Although, it is quite possible to see that Sabby could not have been blamed for his last minute refusal to help, for had he cared to listen to his heart, that evening, the dreadful whip would not have spared him at all.
Throughout the book, the reader is witness to the struggle of life and death, of Eros and Thanatos, at many levels, with many people, but no matter what, victory is always Eros’.
Although it is death that has the proverbial, last laugh.
My observation, not only related with this book, but of late being discussed in many circles, is, it appears to be that most debut novels are autobiographical in nature. So, in a way, the audience is made to read books that are essentially a confession. This is both an advantage as well as a disadvantage. At one level, the author has decided to take pains to externalize events in their lives to make a compelling read for an audience out there. On the other hand, it is quite something to be able to lay one’s life in the hands of readers to be constantly analyzed, critiqued or applauded for.
The life within is like a mirror, which one can hold to see one’s own reflection. At the same time, it is also like a shadow, one can never really get away from, and which stays with the author, like a devoted partner. And if that is shared with many, it is for the reader to judge, what h/she wants to take, or wants to leave out.
I prefer a story that shows me, survival, at its best. The power of the human mind to transform an adversity to an opportunity is for me the most profound moment in a human life. The poignancy of each word that make it the story, well written, is life changing and unforgettable. The Skinning Tree certainly deserved the Tibor Jones South Asia Prize for 2012, and to become a part of your personal library.
Tibor Jones South Asia Prize 2012
Publisher: Picador India Author: Srikumar Sen Price: Rs 499 Hardcover, 222 pages
ISBN139789382616009
Psychologists
have said that parallel thinking is perhaps the most lasting therapy for
survivors of abuse. What this means is that, in order to overcome the trauma of
abuse and look at one’s self in a new light, it is best to reconstruct one’s
identity, change the way one looks and behaves, indeed, change the ideas in the
mind and get into a brand new body of thoughts which finally affect the person,
inwardly, and outwardly. Thus, the guilt and shame carried in the mind of the
abused, which were in any case, the burden carried forward from the mind of the
abuser, is laid to rest in the back burner. And the survivor of abuse lives
happily ever after.
Or
so it seems.
In
another instance, especially in India, one can see hoards of men and women who
leave their homes to join a spiritual path, leaving behind their families,
cities, village or whatever, to start a life of penance with the hope of
ultimate salvation and breaking the cycle of birth and death. The mendicant
leaves behind and never revisits his/her home, village, or even talks about the
past. Ask a sadhu, about the past, the answer is met with silence.
Here
is another instance of putting aside an ‘inheritance’
by birth, to alter the past and accept a new mind and body, shaven of hair and
over indulgence of the body, by care, to focus on altering the mind with severe
and austere spiritual practice. Whether the goal is met, is only known to the
person itself, but having once spoken to a Naga sadhu long ago, it seems it is.
“Where do you come from? Where are your parents?” I had asked, green behind my
ear, for I learned later that, that is not a question one ever asks a sadhu.
“I am from a village in Bengal,” he volunteered kindly, ‘but, neither I
remember my parents and they too may have forgotten me, for it was so long ago,
when I was a boy, I ran away from home.’
His
altered body, with jata, his scanty
clothing exposing a chocolate dark athletic body, tanned by the sun, was not
the body he had earlier I am sure. But, I do remember, wondering about his
obsession with the chillum he smoked
almost at half an hour to forty five minutes causing me to believe, that it
served two purposes, one, to forget his past, or manage the guilt, if any, for
suddenly disappearing from home, and of course, as a Shiva bhakth, a life lived in imitation in pursuance of his goal, single
minded concentration and focus, which is the end of all spiritual practice.
In my recent conversation with renowned film director Rituparno Ghosh (see Atelier India, March 2013 issue),
talking of his latest film, Chitrangada
he believes that the alteration of the body, is a constant, otherwise, Beauty
Parlours would not exist.
“We are all working toward sculpting our own gender identity; women alter their
bodies at Beauty Parlours, men get six packs. No transformation is actually
over, it is a process; it is fluid.”
The question therefore is: does an altered body, mean an altered mind? Does the
external change of the body induce an inward change of the mind? Can one really
change one’s identity and settle for a new, or induce one to become a reality, so
that one can believe that this new identity is the new self? Going back to what
psychologists say, parallel therapy has met with success, is it possible to be
and live an altered self?
The
recent release of the book by Dr Kanchana Natarajan, (see http://juliadutta.blogspot.in/2013/03/book-release-transgressing-boundaries.html
) brings to light, for the first time in English, the life of a woman saint, in
17th Century, Tamil Nadu, India, the fact that it is possible to
leave one’s painful, Brahminical widowhood, to pursue the path of salvation.
Would she ever face the same question I am posing today, does an altered body
make for an altered mind?
Does
not the past lie in waiting, in the subconscious mind, waiting to raise its
head at any given moment? If not, then why the tautness of the body, which
speaks for itself, hiding its struggle to release itself from the demons of the
past?
Would
sitting silently, doing nothing, but allowing the thoughts to rise and pass,
developing the habit of not holding on to those thoughts, or allowing them to
take hold of one’s mind, not silence the thoughts in time, thus, not having to
alter bodies, but remaining in the same? Does the mind hold the body or is it
vice versa, or both? Is effort really necessary?
Even
sitting silently, doing nothing is an effort. But, submitting, resigning to acceptance
is not.
What is the answer then? What is the real face of truth – an altered body
results in an altered mind? Or an altered state of mind causes the
nullification of the body? And everything attached to it, good and bad
experiences?
Or as Bertrand Russell once said, no matter, never mind!
Transgressing Boundaries: The songs of Shenkottai Avudai Akkal
Shengottai Sri Avudai Akkal, a remarkable eighteenth-century
woman saint from Tamil Nadu, was a self-realised advaitin who sang passionately
about the spiritual union with the Absolute.
A desolate and stigmatized Brahmin child-widow, she was initiated
into Vedanta by the great Master Tiruvisainallur Shridhara Venkatesa Ayyawal.
Her songs, a radical elision of the metaphysical sublime and personal devotion,
are narrated through existential tropes sourced from daily life, and also offer
a powerful critique of the oppressive orthodox socio-religious practices of the
period.
Composed in simple, colloquial Tamil, and bringing hope and
solace to women in general and widows in particular for almost three centuries,
these songs by Avudai Akkal were preserved within the oral tradition by Brahmin
women of Tirunellveli District of Tamil Nadu, who sang them on all occasions.
The songs were documented in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and have
appeared in many Tamil publications. However, they appear in English translation
for the first time in this book.
Each song is accompanied by annotations and themed essays.
The book, dedicated to all the anonymous widows and other
women of Tirunelveli and Madurai districts who sang and still sing Akka’s
songs, preserving and sharing a sublime spiritual treasure, has been handled
with some excellent editing by Smriti Vorha. The book will be available on
bookstores in India, by March end.
To book your copy(s), you may also write to the publishers of the book.
Author: Dr
Kanchana Natarajan Publisher: Zubaan an imprint of Kali for Women
128 B, Shahpur Jat, 1st floor
New Delhi 110 049
Email: contact@zubaanbooks.com
Website: www.zubaanbooks.com Price: INR 695
About the author:
Dr Kanchana Natarajan teaches Indian Philosophy at the Department of
Philosophy, University of Delhi, India.
Also read: Avidai
Akkal, the 18th Century woman Vedantin saint in Tamil Nadu, short review in 2010
I have never been fond of the renowned singer, Saigal, with
his nasal voice which reminded me of a man struggling with his ablutions! More
so, after I was told and then heard with my own ears, my dear father’s voice which
was just like him.
The man sat with his harmonium in the company of his
friends, all playing different musical instruments. The saga started with the
musicians first, tuning up and then setting forth with a medley mix of sounds
that blended into each other, to make some musical sounds, until my father let
out a sound emanating from somewhere deep, which probably was his large
intestine and allowed it to find relief in the vocal exhalations, punctuated by
a few ups and downs, like the choir singers at the Vatican.
This practice made me ponder on the meaning of deep itself,
as to the physiological origin of the word, in a man’s biology. Arising out of
this contemplation, came the realization that in so far as anything is
concerned, which has to do with my father, my efforts would match his voice, to
produce what I termed as the ‘SaigalEffect’. This meant that I would have to
let out a similar pained sound out of my gut, or wherever, every time, I dealt
with anything to do with him.
Now, I am not exaggerating I can assure you. Most of the people who know me,
are aware of the strained relationship between my late father and mother and
how there was no taalmil,
compatibility between the two which resulted in one writing her own story and
the other singing his own song! I stood on the periphery watching the tamasha, circus, as most children do in
such cases and decided to take to my mother’s passion, which was words of
poetry and story, precisely why I am here now to tell you the story of the
latest version of the ‘SaigalEffect’ which took over my life, only recently.
On my way to visit his place to sell a plot of land, which he so kindly left
behind for me, only in his death, I was told at the eleventh hour, that the
sale was not going to happen after all, because, the buyer, a man of the soil,
who had been working on many other acres of my father’s land, when he was
alive, did not have the money ready. But had he not told me, only in the
morning and many times over in the last two months that the money was ready?
Yes, of course, he had, but who can ever escape the long term adverse results
of the ‘SaigalEffect’? Plans must be foiled; the family must do its bit to
protect the land from going out to people who were merely labourers on my
father’s land; how could they become owners; I who grew up with other pursuits
of life must learn the hard way, that the zamindari
system, the private ownership of land, is here to stay, as much as the caste
system is, and that all efforts to sell the land, will meet with negation. And
I must pay with time and money for being challenged enough not to understand
that even my inheritance from my father, is necessarily, not mine, but belongs
to my paternal house and all or a few male members of the family.
Yes, at these times, the ‘SaigalEffect’ does hit me hard and I know,
where the frustrated, constipated sound came from – not from the gut, nor the
intestine, nor what one might have held sacred as to cause anal retention, but
way, way beyond that. The ‘SaigalEffect’ has its origin in a lost battle
with sense and sensibility, fought by me and my mother, our whole life, with
our counterpart, that being my father and his family.
RA: Hi Julia, I'm
reading "Until Death Do Us Part". What a wonderful, bold collection!
You should seek out more reviews for your book. It deserves more visibility.
Julia Dutta:
Thank you! Be the first to review, especially if you can put it up on Amazon
itself. It counts there. You know, I do my job; it is for others to review/talk
about it etc. But even a note from you, fulfills the purpose of writing. The
book has touched one heart. I believe it has many. My job is over.
RA: Amazon's been
discouraging reviews by fellow authors, which is why you should seek out other
book reviewers. They've taken down quite a few of these even for me.
Julia Dutta: I
know that they have been refusing to allow those who downloaded the book in the
Kindle Free Download Offer to comment. The book will find its destiny, as they
always do. Somehow, I feel very strange about promoting my own work. Finally, I
am advertising professional - have you seen people in that profession scream
and shout about their campaigns? I am grateful for your suggestions. I do take
them very seriously and tweet about them.
RA: Even
mainstream authors are required to promote their own books now, and you and I
are self-published. I promote my book by offering it to book bloggers who blog
in my genre. Have you ever seen me tout my book on any groups? I hate
in-your-face marketing, as well.
One thing I would recommend for your book is the hiring of a
professional editor next time before you send your work to a publisher. The book is very well written, though.
Also, the readership for your book will be necessarily
limited because the shades of lesbianism will make people uncomfortable. I see
you have not listed a category for your book. Want to try gay and lesbian
literature/romance to see if you can find more readers/reviewers?
Julia Dutta:
Thank you so much for your engagement with my book. The book has been published
by Xynobooks LLC, USA. I have not
self published. Regarding the editing, I agree with you totally; next time I will send in the text for professional editing before I send it to a publication. What I have
found in this one is, like all good Editors, the publisher/Editor interferes very little with the manuscript
and they do not add much to the text. So on my next one, I have been careful,
done a lot of work myself. I can suggest to my publisher to add, Lesbian, gay,
CSA etc. As you can see the Publishers have targeted Women as a category, to
market to. "Stories of women from India" they said. Some of the
stories are as old as 1985! Others are as new as 2011.
I am part of LinkedIn writers group and everyone there seems
to have Self-Published and they do market their books very well. My publisher
has said that the comment on Amazon is BEST and also talking about it on
Twitter, as the book is naturally targeted to reach the hungry for India
stories, NRI possessing Kindle, iPad, Tablet etc. In India, it is yet a far
cry, the Kindle I mean.
RA: Btw, The formatting could have been better. The text being centered in my Kindle, is very hard to read. I format books, so I know this can be done better. People
often will not read a book if the formatting is bad.
Julia Dutta: Do
you mind if I told my publishers about the formatting? Perhaps they need
feedback too to improve on their software too! Thanks a ton for talking to me.
On
the 11th February, 2013, as I stepped out of the train at 12.30 pm,
I received a call from someone living in a village in West Bengal. She was in a
state of panic. “Mita (name changed) has just got murdered by her nephew, at
12.15!”
At
first, the words did not sink in. But once on the way to my Office, I called
back again and listened to the events that lead up to the murder. The nephew,
just married a year ago, was living in Mita’s house with his widowed mother,
when recently, the family was asked to leave the house, because, Mita wanted to
sell the house. Having risen from abject poverty, Mita, had made a living for
herself, which fetched her enough money to own two small houses, one in her
village and the other in Pune, Maharashtra.She also had a comfortable income
and had become a celebrity in her village, because of the power of her pocket.
People in her family vied with each other, to be named the nominee of her
wealth. I suspect, no less, this nephew may too have nursed the same greed in
his heart.
On
the fateful day, Mita had returned from two days away from her house in the
village and was countered by her nephew, as she entered her house. A spurt of
violence ensued between the two and at 12.15, that afternoon, he picked up the
vegetable cutter called ‘bothi daa’
and struck her neck with it, causing her to die instantaneously. Suddenly
realizing what he had done, he hid inside the house, till the rest of the
neighbours broke open the door and pulling him out, beat him to death, with
their bare hands. In a span of one hour, two killings had taken place; the
police were called in only later.
Mita was an exceptionally bright woman. In ’73, she came to stay with us, to
look after me, when I came to Bombay, to stay with my maternal aunt. We were
very close to each other, quite naturally. She learned her letters while
staying with us and later went to Hong Kong, and earned herself a lot of money.
In her early teens, she had been married to a transvestite, who tortured her
and forced her to leave himher. She later took diksha from Asaram Bapu and lived in Pune, in her own flat. In all,
she spoke 5 languages, English, Hindi, Marathi, Gujarati and her native tongue,
Bengali. She taught herself to read the Gita, the Hindu religious book; she
read English minimally and wrote it for Banking purposes. She was an
enthusiastic learner and it was a joy to teach her.
Ashis
Nandy, in his chat with Moushumi Bhowmik and Sukanta Majumdar (The Hindu, Saturday, February 16, 2013, The
archive of separation) says, referring to the Delhi gang-rape, “I don’t see
anything as disjunctive but as part of a continuity. Murders, the gang rape,
the protests, all are part of a continuity. To me those youth at the India Gate
shouting for death sentence for the rapist, suggesting death by torture, there
is continuity. There is violence in the air in India, even those who were
protesting displayed the culture of violence.”
A few years ago, Prof Amartya Sen, called Kolkata the safest city in India,
based on a study of Government generated crime report, which showed that
Kolkata seemed to have the least crime. Needless to say, as we all know, most
crimes against women go unreported and hence, the above statement does not hold
water. Furthermore, in cases like the one cited about Mita and her nephew,
which is not a case in isolation, what are we supposed to believe?
Does
violence exist as an integral part of our society? Can we take the law into our
hands? Does, an eye for an eye, serve a purpose, without the intervention of
law enforcing agencies? After all, if the Government’s machinery is slow to
act, or indecisive, then can we say that acts of violence may best be met with
violence, tatastu, here now?
The
dreadful news has still not sunk in. I regret that there is futility in the
conversation, except for only reasoning purpose.
And
for coming to terms with the fact that Mita is no more. Does it really matter
how she died?
Read also:
Violence
Against Women in India: Three Things to Know
She is what
dreams are made of: beautiful looks, elegant, mysterious with a mind that has
inherited the best of both worlds, where east meets west and blends perfectly,
creativity flows from theatre and cinema, and a vibrant intellect pursues what
only passion, perseverance, imagination, rigor and discipline can achieve. Yes,
her name is Sanjna Kapoor, India’s most loved diva of the world of theatre.
Recently, her
resignation as Director of the very elite and intellectual Prithvi Theatre in
Mumbai, caused a flutter in the industry, but as she says, she needed to move
on to do something more, to add more fuel to her already existing passion, to
impact the environment in more ways and to begin her own trist with destiny, Junoon
Theatre. For more than 22 years she had carried the challenge of Prithvi
Theatre, started by her parents, Shashi Kapoor and Jennifer Kendal. It was both
her passion and her learning grounds. When she put the sceptre down, she felt it
needed other eminent people to carry the work forward, while she took the
experience of Prithvi Theatre, to hoards of Indians out there that wanted and
dreamed of making theatre an integral part of their daily lives, as natural as
taking a walk in the park.
Contemporary
theatre, which is all of 200 years, exists mainly in urban and semi-urban areas.
Inaugurated on February 29, 2012, Junoon Theatre, with a core team of four, wants
to break that trend. It desires to create multiple platforms of creativity by
using the large network of people in the field and make theatre accessible,
welcome and engaging to a wider mass of youth, children and adults across
India, through workshops, Plays, interaction, discussion and going beyond that
space. Like what exists in many countries abroad, Junoon Theatre hopes to increase
the total theatre ‘experience’ from booking to finale, and raise it to another
level, never experienced in India before. It envisages involvement of masses by
building capacity, through its network, so that the experience becomes a social
movement, a junoon, as it were. She
dreams of an India, where theatre is woven into the very fabric of society in a
manner that it becomes a way of life.
This creative
unrest to affect the total experience of theatre has its root in her
grandfather, the late Geoffrey Kendal, whose Shakespeareana Company brought the
bard, William Shakespeare to Indian schools, who had never heard of him before.
For thirty years, the extraordinary theatre personality along with his wife Laura
and daughters, Filicity Kendal, and Sanjna’s own mother, Jennifer Kendal,
toured the country taking Shakespeare to schools, public halls, places of
maharajas and every nook and corner of the country. It can be said quite accurately,
that Junoon Theatre is not only a transition as Sanjna calls it from Prithvi
Theatre, but an urgent compulsion of her genealogy to spread the fire of
imagination across the country, widely.
Sanjna Kappor,
the theatre and film personality is an able administrator; she may have the
fire of her grandfather and the history of Indian cinema in her DNA, but she is
careful, diligent, patient, slow, but sure. Her footsteps are small and
gradual, and while she has big dreams for Junoon Theatre, she is careful not to
go, so fast that she can trip on her own ghagra
skirt. Through the India Theatre Forum,
of which she is a founding member along with six others from the same field,
she undertakes, legal, copyright issues, food and nutrition, insurance, Policy
decisions affecting theatre personalities.
Going out to
the theatre has become as lucrative as going for a movie, because nothing comes
close to a stage performance, for both audience and dramatist - so intimate, so
engaging and responsive, such a fulfilling experience is live performance. As buying
power of the people increases, Universities, parents, children are looking
seriously at making a profession of Management in Arts and Theatre.
Finance is
always a concern though. Sanjna is working on a Sustainable Economic Model,
which will cater to premium pricing, and go to make the 25% reserved for the
masses, possible. While there will be ongoing smaller shows and workshops in
schools, and Plays, the yearly major event will bring in the best talent from
across the globe and India, and tour India in true Shakespeareana Company style.
Sanjna Kapoor
admits she has no life outside theatre. Perhaps she means what Sheakespeare had
said - all the world’s a stage – for there is her 10 year old son Hamir,
who is the apple of his mother’s eye, presently passionately engaged with Sports
cars, a far cry from his mother’s passion for theatre or his father’s passion
for tigers! Her husband Valmik Thapar, is a prolific well-known writer and
tiger enthusiast, with many books to his credit.
In a way,
both Sanjna Kapoor and her husband are engaged with the eco-system around them,
the former with the world inside, the power of imagination of the human mind to
create, sustain and evolve newer ways of evolving itself, while the latter with
the preservation of India’s national animal, the tiger. And their little one is
on a fast track, but loves drama and must approve all stories his mother tells the
world outside.
Such a cute
drama queen!
The article written by Julia Dutta was first published in the January 2013 issue of Atelier Magazine. To buy write to: Creative Nest Media Pvt. Ltd, M-66, Punj House, Outer Circle, Connaught Place, New Delhi - 110 001 Email: info@creativenestmedia.com
It
is often cited that in many countries and of course in India, the rule of dynasty
is played to the hilt. So, why is only the Nehru-Gandhi family targeted when
across states of India, the rule dynasty is prevalent? The answer is of course
quite simple: except for a very short spell, they seem to be leading our
country ever since independence.
The
Nehrus are originally Kashmiri Brahmins, but their genealogy is now a pot pouri
of many caste and communities from India and abroad. Hence, there is no reason
to believe that the ‘purity’ of the original genes has remained, which the
others may claim, in other dynastic families in India. Yet, the striking
resemblance of the dynastic rule of the Nehru-Gandhi family, urges us to
believe that it is similar to the Mughal period in India.
If we believe that the young, often compared to the Amul baby, Rahul Gandhi is
pitched to be a Prime Ministerial candidate in the 2014 elections. If this is
the case, we must look at one factor, that has gone unnoticed so far, in Indian
politics, that being, the Prime Minister of the country, from the Nehru-Gandhi
lineage have mostly been undergraduates, if not Metric pass only. In many
cases, there is a controversy on the matter and even the RTI (Right to
Information) body fails to do justice to questions about the academic
qualifications of a few in the family.
Let
us look at the qualifications of the esteemed PMs of the family. Nehru had been
to Cambridge but did not finally get the degree, although his father, Motilal
Nehru was a Barrister who was much favoured by the British. His only daughter,
Indira Gandhi, too went to Cambridge and joined the Trinity College, but was a
miserable failure there and had to return empty handed, making her then, only a
Metric pass. Her son, Rajiv Gandhi, studied Engineering at Cambridge, but it is
doubtful whether he finally came home with a Degree. He joined the airline
services and flew aircrafts until his mother’s assignation in the hands of her
own bodyguards. His wife, Sonia Gandhi, who took up the sceptre after the
assignation of her husband, Rajiv Gandhi, is only a High School pass, although
she went through some English learning course at Cambridge where she worked
both as a salesperson and coffee shop waitress, until she caught Rajiv Gandhi’s
eyes and a marriage with India’s so called first family, changed her life
completely. It is a known fact that when she filed in her ticket for Ameethi,
which was her mother-in-law’s captive ground of procuring votes without ever
doing any work there for the people, Dr Subramaniam Swamy had challenged the
candidature in Court. Please read below the links that lead to the facts on
this case and others as well. Her children Rahul Gandhi though contested,
appears to have a M.Phil from Cambridge, breaking the dreadful precedent of his
ancestors of leading a country, without any education worth speaking about. Sonia
Gandhi’s daughter, Priyanka Vadra (ne Gandhi) has a Bachelor’s degree in
Psychology, in which she majored. Indeed, she has shown more promise in both
emotional and spiritual quotient. She is the one, who finally made peace with
her past with the jailed and convicted to be hanged assassin of her father,
Rajiv Gandhi, by going to meet her and forgiving her, for her acts, thereby
releasing herself from the burden of anger and guilt. She follows the path of
Buddhism and Vipassana as taught by S N Goenka. In fact, it is worth mentioning
here that it is after she met the jailed Nalini Sriharan, Sonia Gandhi intervened
to convert the death sentence to life imprisonment, for the sake of Nalini’s 5
year old daughter (Readers are encouraged
to look at links below for all data above).
So,
this piece does try to look at facts, as they are – educational qualification
has never been the forte of the Gandhi-Nehru family, until they came to the
present generation. However, starting from the generation with Sonia Gandhi,
the emotional quotient has shown an upswing and if Priyanka Gandhi Vadra is to
be considered as someone who might finally followed in her grandmother’s
footsteps, India would have gained by spiritual quotient too in Prime Ministers
in India, although her grandmother too was in the habit of keeping the company
of spiritual leaders, for reasons entirely different. She liked them as crowd
pullers for which she paid with her life, finally.
In
the last words of the emotional speech made by Rahul Gandhi in Jaipur,(see link below) only recently, after he
was selected Vice President of the Congress Party, he recounted that many
people congratulated him, but his mother cried in the privacy of his room. She
had indeed in her heart a burden of many memories, good and bad, attached to
the role her son would play in the 2014 elections. If he passes the test, then
the dynasty would go on with business as usual, although he will still fail
miserably to compete with the qualifications and experience of our outgoing Prime
Minister, Dr Manmohan Singh. We can only hope that he will perform better in
implementation. Dr Manmohan Singh sleeps on a peaceful, guiltless pillow each
night, for lack of intent to act, on many issues based on the fact that his
hands are securely tied by the dictates and the orders coming from ‘The Top’. The young Rahul will have to show
more mettle by way of action, even if he continues to exercise his vocal cords.
To
start with, he can push hard on a subject he has kept a deathlike silence on,
the horrific rape and subsequent death of Jyoti, Nirbhaya on 16th
December, 2012. He can work towards looking at the Justice Varma Report and
recommendation made by him and his team and affect change in Laws ASAP. He
could make the revolution he so easily talks of by putting protection of rights
of women, first on his agenda for a new India.
Let us see if his discourse on positive politics has women in India, from all
sections, in mind. Or is it baby blabber, goo-gooo,
gaaa, gaaa et cetera.
The hurried exchange of addresses and
stolen glances hid my destiny for the next sixteen years of my life - our lives.
In the first ever national three days conference held in Mumbai, 1996, in
between, talking politics of love between same sex women, watching films,
discussing, making new friends, I fell in love with a woman from Delhi. She was
the sole reason why I left everything behind me in Mumbai, to start from
scratch in Delhi.
Yet, it was not a fairy tale story right from the start.
Our letter crossed and in each, in indelible ink was written the same story in
five words – I am attracted to you. Then onwards, our love was a journey fraught
with difficulties, doubts and deliberations, in spite of over powering love for
each other. At the end, having held the torch for over three years, in
November, 1999, we met finally in Delhi. The physical sparks went off
immediately and we were on the carpet, making love before the welcome lunch had
time to settle in my stomach! After fifteen days of bliss, I went back to
Mumbai, knowing I had to return, to the first major love with a woman in my life.
It’s now thirteen years that we have been together. There is no contract between
us, no written or spoken document that says that we are in a committed
relationship. I prefer, therefore, to acknowledge our same sex relationship as companionship;
we are sakhis. We do have many things
in common and lots where we are differ from each other.
A same sex relationship is different from a
heterosexual one.
First things first, the sex is fantastic as long as the 18-months major
invasion of hormones in your body is there and then you have to work at it.
This is common to both. And sexual intimacy is not about penetration, but being
there for each other, sharing, touching, loving, kissing, fondling and of
course, the big ‘O’ which in the case of heterosexual sexual contact may just
be one sided, or result in women faking it and men asking that dreadful question:
how was it? However, I am told by some that many ‘hets’ do make it, to the orgasmic oneness, not one after another,
but together. I must confess, I haven’t been able to match the ‘het’ claim to cosmic contractions, together in my same
sex relationship. Nor have sexual encounters given rise to pregnancy, thank
god!
In our relationship, the political power lies with Tamil Nadu, but if you ask
her, she will say, that all Bengali Didis are dominating and hold the feudal
sceptre as if they were born holding one. But I ascertain power politics in a
relationship by the cuisine that dominates the kitchen. Ours is kapi in the
morning, followed by sambhar, rasam,
paparam.
Naturally we fight a lot! We suffer spouse deafness, malicious gossip sessions
with our friends and family. It’s in fact just as ‘het’ as it can get!
However, the big difference is, there
are no laws in the land that can save a drowning same sex
partnership/relationship, and very little family intervention to save it too,
in most cases. Thankfully, gender driven roles, don’t plague our partnership – cross
dressing, emotionally and otherwise is highly appreciated.
Our relationship is governed by never sleeping on an augmentative pillow,
talking things through, if possible, and if we don’t sound like all the
utensils in the kitchen falling on the floor with a loud clatter, which is
increasingly becoming a trend, by the way! No wonder then, we have taken
recourse to yet another strategy, that being, maintaining silence on the
subject of argument and making as many spiritual trips together.
For me, all relationships are part of a self actualisation process. We are
constantly changing. In thirteen years, our needs have changed, our priorities
keep changing. We have some commonalities which are timeless, but change is
permanent and finally, even if we are like our bel tree rooted in one place and branching out in different
directions, or do take our togetherness to another level, we will still say, we
are sakhis, emotionally, physically
and spiritually.
Julia Dutta is author of this piece and author of Until death do us part and other books available on Kindle version from Amazon.com
The article was first published in December 2012 issue of Atelier Diva
To buy write to: Creative Nest Media Pvt. Ltd, M-66, Punj House, Outer Circle,
Connaught Place, New Delhi - 110 001 Email: info@creativenestmedia.com
People are streaming in. The Kumbh mela is just around
the corner. Delhi is still burning with the question of what will it do to the
six rapists. Opinions are divided – should we hang them? Or should we find some
other way to punish them? Should we use chemical castration? Time is passing by
speedily. India stands still, in the
midst of a severe cold wave sweeping over north India and other parts of the
country. This wind is chilling metaphorically too; it has frozen the hearts of
many across the globe. Yes, the capitol of the country can ill afford to show
its face to the world and it needs to now hang its head in shame.
75 million people visit China yearly; only 5 million visit India during the
winter seasons from other countries. Incredible India, the Government’s Travel
wing, travels abroad yearly and sells India as a destination for travel, what
with the beach, the mountains, the spiritual/mystical side of India, marketable
to the gullible and the ill informed, as of now.
Why not? Only on the 31st night, traveling on
Tamilnad Express from Chennai to New Delhi, a Canadian woman, sleeping on the
top berth, on the side, was woken up with a rude shock. A man, drunk inside the
train, where neither alcohol nor smoking is allowed, had grabbed her private
part and was rubbing her, as she slept. She woke up with a start and yelled
STOP IT, where upon he disappeared into the toilet or some such place.
Passengers and her Canadian companions asked the ticket collector to act; bring
in the complaint book, but he refused to do either, asking them to go back to
their berths!
This is not unnatural in India. The country touted to be
spiritual is hardly one. It might be religious and bigoted, it is certainly not
spiritual. Tens of thousands of people will descend on the Kumbh Mela in
Allahabad, which is now a multi-dollar Event and think they are coming to a
country known for its spirituality.
Indeed, India is a palace of illusions! One can be deluded and lose one’s way
here, forever!
Renowned writer and poet Abha Iyengar, states in her
Facebook profile: “I remember many years ago when I visited Germany and
experienced the freedom of being able to lie on the grass, a young woman alone
with herself and nature and of course, other scattered foreigners also
embracing the sun's winter warmth, how free and delightful it felt. The point
is, I was alone and a woman and young and a foreigner and I could lie in the
sun on the grass without being stared at or accosted. As a woman in India I
have never experienced this freedom. I think even now were I to lie alone on the
grass in Lodhi gardens with a book , minding my own business, I would be stared
at or accosted. I know I would not be comfortable. When will we women in India
have this freedom to just be?”
The answer is never! Unless you wish to take things in
your hands!
If you are visiting India, remember, your safety is in
your hands! You may travel with your boyfriend, or a group of friends, or even
catch an Indian ‘chokda’- Boy guide – while in India, but the woman’s body is
not respected at all and do not be surprised if a man thinks and feels that
your body is his possession without your
permission. After all, he is a man! He is God! He can and will do anything
to you as a woman, and you are supposed to lie low and not scream.
Chemical castration cannot make a man impotent. Even a fool knows that! Sex and
power trips originate in the mind. How, is India going to castrate its century’s
old habit of trying to save the linga,
the penis in the head which extends like a canon between his legs? Especially,
when women too have been worshiping it?
Therefore, if you are visiting India, do so at your own risk. Also, have no
illusions about how long the hideous organ may be (not an orgasmic joy for
sure, this one), how much it can take you for granted and how unsafe you can be
in a country, better known for arm-chair thinking and lack of will to act. A
million reasons may be cited for inaction, lack of implementation, thinking
things over, etc., etc, even if it be over someone’s dead body! Even yours!
Take care! Ensure your own safety! Take charge!
Delhi women only cab: 91 931 384
4015
Police
across India: Dial 100
Also
read: Much ado about six inches stick of muscle:
