Thursday, August 30, 2012

Small is, the bigger picture

...thus pondered I
 


A raindrop hang

From the red roof

Waiting its turn to fall

And splash

In the puddle

 

The puddle swells

And looks around to find

The small nalluh it can squeeze into

 

The nullah yearns to offload

Its burden to the larger one

While the later aches to join the stream

The stream, the river

And the river to flow into the sea


It starts with a drop

But soon becomes the sea

A grain of sand is the whole beach

Like a drop of water, the sea

 

Small, is and always will be

The bigger picture

                                                                                  © Julia Dutta

 

The ego is the doer, the receiver, the enjoyer of the world. Depending on its evolution, it is seen by others as big or small. But whenever, it looks at itself, like a mirror facing another mirror, both reflecting each other at infinity, it always is lost in the greatness of itself.

Before, we begin to admire others, we admire ourselves. The face that we see most is ours on the mirror. It is only with the same eyes, so trained to look at our own selves in the mirror, that we view others with our eyes. The other reflects the reality in our eyes. The impressions formed are already coloured, because, the first impressions were that of our own selves, and then the world, the other, is but an impression, formed out of the original one. It is tainted thus.

But what is the truth is that unless, there was Light beyond ourselves, we could not have even seen ourselves on the mirror. In fact, the objects of the world are visible because there is light. Similarly, without the Light, it is not possible to see ourselves. When the Light reflects on the ego, small or big, it becomes visible to the onlooker. And if the ego were not to be there, then there would not be any reflection. And no matter how many mirrors were put before it, there would be no face, no impression, nothing to reflect back. The mirror would be empty, because, the object, ego was not there to reflect it on the mirror.

There is a longing in the heart of the drop of water, hanging on the rooftop, waiting for its moment to fall and splash into the puddle. But it needs to accumulate enough momentum to fall. There is a longing of the puddle to mingle with the small nullah, which in turn needs to off load into the river and the river into the sea.

No matter how small or big the ego is, it is only an illusion that it is the doer, receiver and the enjoyer of the world. Because, without the Light it cannot even see itself; it reflects nothing. Like a drop waiting on the roof top to drop, it hangs around only as long as we do not see the larger picture.

Small is, the bigger picture.




 
Picture credit: From the net

Sunday, August 05, 2012

Film review: Chitrangada by Rituparno Ghosh


To begin with, let me warn my readers that I am not a film critique, but write about films which affect me deeply.
Rituparno Ghosh’s Chitrangada is a film which addresses the gender, gender transformation, crossing bodies and boundaries of mind and body, physically, psychologically and emotionally in a compelling way.
The main protagonist in the film are Rituparno (Rudie)  and Partho, who are part of a Drama society and fall in love with each other. Their relationship continues to flourish until Partho becomes a victim of drugs. Thereafter the relationship is rigged with uncertainties and really Rudie wants to set himself free of the relationship, but neither he nor Partho, is actually able to do so. In days when things were better, Rudie and he had discussed living together in a house and adopting a child. Rudie was willing to change his sex to become a woman, in order that they could go ahead to adopt the child, in a country (India) that does not allow same sex lovers to adopt children. The logic was that if Rudie changed his sex, then they could marry and adopt a child. While the plan was being executed by Rudie, to Partho’s distaste, he found himself revolted by the new Rudie, in sex transformation, for he argued, that he loved Rudie just the way he was and he could not really connect with this ‘new’ person, and if he did want a woman, then, he would prefer a real one than an ‘artificial one’. In a way, even as the last steps to complete change over, is almost complete, the film takes the viewer into a journey that is beyond words!

Partho is moving out of Rudie’s life as Rudie struggles with the idea that all that he was doing was to make their relationship, more total and rather like ‘man, woman and child’ like a stereotypical family, despite his coming to terms with his new reality, well almost, he is left with himself only to take that last step to take the final jump and be totally transformed from the body of a man to a woman. But, then, an array of happenings pushes the boundaries of the viewer’s thoughts is the most profound manner.

There is that struggle at the psychological level. The Councelor/friend/alter ego, Shubho, who helps Rudie in his decisions often playing the devil’s advocate, his parents, who through their own struggle to come to terms with the fact that their son is gay, must still have another battle to win - his need to transform his gender to the opposite reality of a woman. Through tears and anger, they are still able to find peace in themselves, knowing that the ‘the nature of a being, has its own desire to express its own reality’ and no matter what, Rudie is their son/whoever else he feels comfortable to be. His mother is profound – I gave birth to this body, which is yours, I have a right to know, whatever goes on in this body. I have a right to know, if it is changing, transforming…”
But as the last day dawns, or as the light of Usha burns close to dawn, the viewer is taken to yet another paradigm, where psychology, body, emotions meet the last gate before one steps over threshold of  ordinary understanding and enters the philosophical.

All is impermanence, things are always changing, the reality we know now is no more in the next, everything is in fleeting. Change is the only permanent thing and therefore, if in the body of a man, exists a woman ready to take birth, then in that new body too will be another reality, that will seek its birth and so on and so forth, on and on, because, not that the body is changing, transforming, but reality is forever, changing, and what is ‘natural’ today, may not be the same tomorrow, or even in the next minute, for truth is an ever changing reality. And hence, what then is the meaning of the new realities, for they too are in transition, here, now and gone the next. The wandering soul must find its Home, here and now.
Having travelled though a mire of thoughts, actions, Freudian psychology, for me the film ended in a rather philosophical note and brought home the point that that there is no better ‘home’ than what is available now, and all else is but the mind which must chance upon different domains of reality, in order that it may finally arrive home.

Warning: Before you see the film, be sure your knowledge on gender issues is updated, your sensibility to gay desires of body and mind are progressive, your knowledge fund on Freud and psychology has been greased and oiled and your brush with philosophy is not vague and abysmally low.

Then and then only, the genius of the film which is highly intellectual in nature with an extraordinary display of showmanship, can be relished like an evening out for high tea and discussions thereafter.

Film :
Chitrangada
Starring : Rituparno Ghosh, Jishu Sengupta, Anjan Dutta, Dipankar De, Anasuya Majumdar, Raima Sen & others.
Producer : Shree Venkatesh Films.
Presenter : Shrikant Mohta & Mahendra Soni
Written & Directed by : Rituparno Ghosh.
Language : Bengali & English with English subtitles



To know more on the original Tagore’s Chitrangada
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chitr%C4%81ngad%C4%81


Thursday, August 02, 2012

Reminiscing with Romila Thapar over Tea and Biscuits


The year was 1947, when she passed out of School. Throughout the 40s, across the country there was an air of the impending independence of India. The core of nationalist feeling beat in every heart, just as surely as the fire lit in every kitchen for the day and the lamp burnt to light up the dark hours after dusk.  Mahatma Gandhi was under house arrest in the Aga Khan’s Palace in Pune, but during the time when he was set free, he held prayer meetings in the evening at Dr Mehta’s Nature Cure Clinic, near Wadia College in Pune. A young girl, after class at St Mary’s School, together with her friends, would attend those meetings. On one occasion she paid the mandatory, Rs 5, a princely amount in those days, to ask for Gandhiji’s autograph. As she was leaving, the father of the nation, held the sleeve of her kurta – “Yeh, resham hai?” he asked and she replied, “Jee haan!” “Resham kabhi nahi paheno. Khadi pehena karo!” This was followed by a tantrum with her parents who relented and agreed to her wearing khadi salwar-kurtas, if she so wished.

This young girl was Romila Thapar, still in School, in Pune, having breathed in the air of nationalism. These were the last years of school in Pune. Also brewing in her heart was her love for History and Literature and her love for Botany. And both were because of two lovely teachers – Ms Flemming in History and Literature and Ms Fraenkel in Botany. And while her friends scoffed at her love of Botany, her real love for ancient History was planted only after she completed her Senior Cambridge and she had six months of holidays before the next step to Wadia College in Pune. Having completed two years out of four at College, she then had to follow her father’s transfer to Delhi where Romila Thapar joined Miranda House.  But she finally graduated from Punjab University, with Literature Hons., and with History as a subsidiary subject.

Travelling from Rangoon to Lahore, it was a chance stop over made by her mother at her sister’s home in Lucknow, that saw the birth of Romila Thapar in Lucknow. Her father  Daya Ram Thapar, who was a Doctor in the Army had been transferred to Lahore. Before she joined her husband there, Romila’s mother Kaushalya, pregnant with her third child, Romila, stopped en route  at Lucknow and then found that it was too late for her to travel any further for the moment. Romila Thapar was born in Lucknow, on 30 November, 1931. Subsequently her father was transferred to the North West Frontier Province. The young child Romila soon proceeded with her mother to live at the Thal Fort. Her childhood was spent in six different places, as her father, was frequently transferred, as was the case with Army officers. While her two elder siblings, a brother and sister, spent their childhood and growing years in boarding school, Romila stayed with her parents. This meant changes almost every two years or so, of School, and later College too. The six months holidays, between completing the Senior Cambridge examination in School and her admission to Wadia College, both in Pune, were supposed to have been spent in leisurely reading and in her favourite sports of horse riding and swimming, but instead, along with her father, it turned out to be a journey to India’s past.

Her father had travelled to Madras, and on a free afternoon visited the Museum. The Chola bronze icons made such a deep impression on him that, on his return, he brought back with him many books on this subject. It is the reading and discussion between father and daughter that led to the igniting of the first deep interest in early Indian history, in the mind of Romila Thapar. The search had begun, and the road map became clear, when Romila, asked to go to London to do a degree in History.

“I have the money, which I have kept aside for you,” her father said, “but it is only enough for either a dowry or a degree from London University, so you must choose.” She chose the latter. In a sense this was in her genes. Her paternal grand-father was initially a school teacher before he was employed to do summaries of the vernacular press for the British administration. Her maternal grand-father, who practised law, insisted that each of his five daughters must be a graduate, Romila’s mother being one of them. This was quite remarkable for a father in the 1920s.

London changed everything for Romila. It opened the flood gates of her mind.   For a girl from an established social background, protected from the world in the culture of army cantonments, the intellectual buzz in London was like the wings of fire that took her to a destination, that was unknown to her but exciting. She was hooked! When she got her B.A degree from London University in 1955, her tutor, A.L Basham, who, is well-known for his book, “The Wonder that was India”, urged her to apply for a London university scholarship to do a Ph.D.  A hesitant, Romila, finally did apply, even as the last date of submission was well nigh. Sitting among a panel of many Professors, from the various branches of historical studies taught at London University, Romila passed through forty-five minutes of grilling, to finally qualify for the Scholarship, giving her three more years in London and a Doctorate from SOAS, the School of Oriental and African Studies, London. Closest to her heart, even to this day, after so many books and papers which she has published is her Ph. D thesis, Ashoka and the Decline of the Mauryas.

Despite many offers to remain in England, the nationalist in her, urged her to return to India, taking up a Readership at Kurukshetra University, which she left to join Delhi University. Seven years thereafter, she moved to spend the next twenty years at JNU (Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi). Here in the august company of brilliant students and an academic environment that urged a new curriculum and new ways of thinking about the subject, she greatly enjoyed her teaching experience.

No article on Professor Romila Thapar, can go without reference to some of her work. Among a vast body of writing that we have in her studies on early India, I would like to draw the attention of the reader to her views on the “idea” that we are frequently confronted with in these times, namely, that India has always been a tolerant, non-violent country. The reader may be urged to look at India as a nation consisting of people from different religious sects among whom we can count Hindus, Buddhists, Jainas and Christians as some of the early ones, to be joined later by Muslims.

In her book “Cultural Transaction and early India” published by Oxford University Press in 1987, we are told that “The term Hindu, is used for the first time in Arabic sources referring to the inhabitants of the subcontinent across the Indus”  For them the term was initially geographical, meaning people who lived on the other side of the Sindhu river. If we include yet another of her erudite papers “Perceiving the forest: Early India”, published in the journal, Studies in History, in 2001, we get to understand one of the possible roots of the intolerance among sects in early India. The essay explores the theme which G. D. Sontheimer , in his study of pastoral activities explored, namely, the dichotomy of the vana/kshetra or the vana/grama, referring to the dichotomy of the forest and the settlement.  Prof Romila Thapar argues that in earliest times the grama, or village, need not have been a permanent settlement as it included a population that migrated from place to place with their domestic animals. Gradually the settlements became permanent.  With urbanization, some among the gramas evolved into nagaras or towns. Sects of Buddhists and Jainas promoted the idea of asceticism, which required people of any age or caste to retreat to the forests to pursue their personal goal to enlightenment. They occupied spaces in the forest close to the settlement  where they went about their daily pursuit visiting the grama or nagara for their bhiksha, or alms.

 When kings started giving grants of land to various religious sects, a competition developed between these sects for royal patronage. This added to the already existing ideological differences between them. It is perhaps this, which encouraged the intolerance of one sect towards the other. Apart from what they believed in, there was also the question of the possession of land and the demarcation of property given as gifts. These could be in the form of agraharas to brahmanas, either in the aranya and wastelands which were uncultivated lands, or in cultivated land.

“The granting of tax-free, cultivable land to special categories of persons – learned brahmanas and professionals working for the state – was also mentioned. This would have been cultivated land in villages, or else large acreages of uncultivated land to be brought under cultivation by the grantee. ....The incidence of this creating what came to be called agraharas can be traced back to the early centuries of the Christian era, when inscriptions attest to kings making such grants.”

“The institutionalization of renunciation developed early among the Buddhists, Jainas and a variety of non-brahminical sects referred to as Sramanas. Individual salvation, it was argued, was more easily obtained through renunciation and joining the Sangha or Order – a parallel or alternative society demanding the termination of social obligations at a personal level. But few of these renounces’ cut themselves off completely. Most lived in the proximity of settlements, for it was enjoined upon the lay follower that he had to support monks with alms and gifts. Such acts would earn merit for the lay followers.”   This led to the strengthening of the Sangha as an institution and also created a sense of community among lay followers. This was a contrast to the idea of varnashramadharma, which segregated and cordoned off, groups of people into castes.

 “This sense of community may have had something to do with the aggressive hostility meted out to Buddhists and Jainas by various sects of what we have come to call the Hindu religion. This hostility may account for the virtual weeding out of the alternate texts and perspectives, namely, those not in agreement with brahmanical tradition, from what we regard as our cultural heritage”.

Thus going back to early times we have evidence much before Mahmud of Ghazni came to India, of the persecution of Buddhists in Kashmir.  Hsuan Tsang the Chinese traveller in the seventh century A.D refers to the destruction of Buddhist stupas and sangharamas and the killing of Buddhists monks. In the Rajatarangini, (I, p 289, 307), which is a history of Kashmir, the author Kalhana gives an account of the Huna king Mihirakula, who was a Shaiva and gave land to brahmanas as agraharas, but who also killed Buddhist monks. The Kashmiri poet Bilhana, the biographer of the Calukya king Vikramaditya VI makes disparaging remarks about local Gujaratis, but curiously makes no mention of Mahmud of Ghazni who is said to have raided the Shaiva temple at Somanatha, even though the biography was written three generations after the supposed attack. In her book on Somanatha, Professor Thapar refers to inscriptions in Sanskrit of the early centuries AD that record the fact that local Hindu rulers donated land to the Arab traders to build a mosque. Some of this land was from the estates of the Somanatha temple. Encouragement was given to the trade between various local authorities and the Arab traders.  The much acclaimed bringing back of the gates of Somanatha from Ghazni, by the British army, back-fired on the British, since the gates were Egyptian in style, and not the gates of Somanatha. The British wrote the history of India for the period after AD 1200 largely from Persian courtly chronicles, ignoring the fact that there were other data from texts and inscriptions in Sanskrit and in the regional languages.
It appears that there was no pan-Indian Hindu community incorporating all the castes and sects in one common identity in early India. There were , “...a number of segments largely determined by caste, customs, language and region; and only at certain levels were religious identities recognised as being similar. For the rest, caste identities probably were more significant and the religious belief systems and actions of particular castes may have had some common features. “  An obvious example of this would be similarities among the learned brahmana castes.

So we may now recognise two important themes that surface in Indian history : one, there was no single pan-Indian community determined by a religious Hindu identity in early India ;  and second, that tolerance as we understand it today as a Hindu, or Indian phenomenon, did give way on occasion to extreme intolerance. Therefore, we cannot ascribe brutality, destruction and killings only to “the other” ethnic groups who came to India later, known as “Turushka/Turks, or Yavana/West Asian”, or the more generalised mleccha, meaning impure and covering a wide range of non-Muslims as well.”

Professor Romila Thapar’s contribution to early Indian history, upto c. AD 1300, lies also in the fact that she has been a pioneer in the Social History of these times and has brought to the forefront, the understanding that, whenever we chose to speak on any one subject, pertaining to that era or time, there are many interpretations whose value has to be assessed historically. These interpretations influence a larger span of time as well. Her brilliant and thought provoking work on Sakuntala – Texts, Readings, Histories published by Kali for Women in 1999 included the narrative from Mahabharata and Abhijnana – Sakuntalam of Kalidasa, and various other adaptations which are vastly different from each other. These suggest the different times and periods when they were written  thus opening up the text to multiple interpretations, covering even how the play was received in Russian literary circles, not to mention also the Braj and Urdu versions of the same.

Among her other works are A History of India, Ancient Indian Social History, Shakuntala, Lineage to State, Somanatha, to name only a few. There is one thread that runs through all her work that History has many voices, and this multiplicity emanates from the text and from its various interpretations. Hence, it is quite evident that it is not a single voice as we have been taught to believe.

Dr Romila Thapar is Professor Emeritus at JNU, Jawaharlal Nehru University, Delhi, She has also been visiting Professor at Cornell University, University of Pennsylvania and the College de France in Paris. She was the first holder of the Kluge Chair in Countries and Cultures of the South instituted by the Library of Congress, US. But, no honour or coveted appointments from Universities abroad have been able to keep her away from her native soil. It is here she finds her best audience, people who are alive and responsive to her work, both in terms of appreciating it as well as critiquing it and this is her best reward. Whatever she says or writes here, throws up debate and discussion for months on end.
In 2011 she was awarded the Padma Bhushan but she turned it down. When asked to give a reason she said that these awards and not really state awards but government awards, and therefore she preferred to stay away from them. Furthermore, she also felt that academics must give a higher status to professional awards than to government awards.

“We academics do not respect each other sufficiently. As academics, the professional awards we get from our peers have a much higher standing than what any State can give us, and that is why we should respect professional awards.”

Professor Romila Thapar, lives in a quiet and beautiful locality in Delhi. Her day begins with work in the morning. The evenings are more fluid and you might find her devoting herself to other readings, going out to meet friends maybe twice a week, or having someone over for dinner. Her home is a veritable treasure trove of books, which are her best friends too. She has a lovely Labrador, who can harmlessly bark at strangers, but not bite! A niece and a nephew and their children are her family in Delhi. Age has not had a chance to lay hold of India’s most respected, even loved Historian. The beautiful and gracious Professor holds on to her lifestyle with tenacity and power, not unlike her paternal grandmother, the Dadi, the matriarch, strong and unfailingly rooted in herself. So don’t get carried away by her gentle smile and her soft ways. Behind that is a history of very strong men and women, of brawn, beauty and intellect.

“Resham kabhi nahi pahena. Khadi pehena karo!” – Perhaps, these words from Gandhi had a much deeper meaning for India’s pioneering Social Historian of early India, albeit she has combined both but remained rooted in her homeland, India.




The author wishes to thank, Professor Romila Thapar, for igniting an interest in early Indian History in her, Professor Kumkum Roy, Centre for Historical Studies, JNU, for giving reading material and negotiating for her to meet Professor Thapar, C. N Subramanian, ex- Director, Eklavya, Bhopal, for lending her books by Romila Thapar.  August, 2012


Read the original published version:



Thursday, June 21, 2012

Fear of falling

Big is NOT better, always

Recently, I was commissioned to do a cover story on one of India’s most renowned historian. Since I am not a student of history, before I met her, I did a considerable amount of reading of her works. The fascinating journey to the history of ancient India lead me to realise that when we look at our past, there is a lot of information that needs to be corrected, since we read Indian history written by the British.

For instance, for years I held on to the idea that Asoka, the Maurya king was complete transformation from within after the battle of Kalinga, which he won but the bloodbath changed him and he took to Buddhism. He was instrumental in spreading Buddhism throughout his kingdom, which was as vast as to almost cover the entire subcontinent. In fact, I remember clearly, when I visited Sanchi in 2009, I was overwhelmed with feelings when I walked through the vast remains of what is today a World Heritage Site (see https://plus.google.com/u/0/photos/118112130944380341626/albums/5414704166884978305      )

In the background of such emotional connection, my readings lead me to debunk my previous thoughts and relook at Asoka with a fresh critical eye.

To begin with, his conversion to Buddhism was not all of a sudden after all. During the period he was Viceroy of Ujjain, he had met and fallen in love with one Devi, the daughter of a merchant, in Vidisha, who was in fact an ardent follower of Buddhism. Through her he had had two children, a daughter and a son. However, he did not marry her and when he moved to Patilaputra (the capitol of the Maurya dynasty, which is close to present day, Patna, in Bihar) he married thrice, and his second wife Padmawati gave birth to two other children, again a boy and a girl. On his death in 233 – 232 B.C, the Maurya kingdom which lasted for 137 years, starting from his grandfather, Chandragupta Maurya onwards ended in 181-180 B.C. The Maurya kingdom had been already divided into the west and east zones, which were ruled by two separate monarchs – in the west, with its new capitol as Taxila, his  son from Padmavati, Kunala, and in the eastern zone, continuing to hold Pataliputra as its capitol, by his grandson Dasaratha .

During the reign of Asoka, the Maurya Empire was under the influence of Buddhism, as he propagated dhamma although many other sects including Brahmins lived alongside. Asoka preached tolerance of all religions and directed his people to live in peaceful coexistence.

However, towards the end of his life, he almost became a bigot, and some of his edits literally force people to follow Buddhism, only.

As a religion, in as vast an empire as his, it might have been a good binding force or a strategy that could hold his people together by virtue of a common religion, but as a forced diet it was not palatable to all. This helped the rise of the Shaivites in the eastern zone under Dasarath, while the Greeks took over the western zone

India has always been open to people from other parts of the world, especially the Greeks and the people following Islam, for by virtue of its geographical location with the ocean on all three sides, it was always approachable by sea farers and much trade and interchange of commerce were happening for a long time. This meant that the people coming from outside, were intermingling and taking back with them, the wealth in terms of philosophy, legends and tales, art and architecture from us and leaving back with us, the same from their countries. While there are records of disturbances between sects in India, unless there was an invasion, which is only much later, there was a sense of peace maintained, between at least the people who came to trade with us.

The inappropriate notion that invaders came and ransacked our temples, looted and ran away with treasures, are a mixed bag of facts and fallacy. For example take the case of Somanath in Gujarat. As cited above, available evidence proves the opposite of what we are made to believe. And when we read about the fact that the same temple also had a mosque in the same premises at one time, the land given by the king to the frequent traders who came to trade in Somanath, we really have o re-look at what we have read so far.

We are told that in 1026, Muhamud of Ghazni came and raised the temple Somanath to the ground, plundered its wealth and breaking the idol there. Up until today, sections of the Indian community hold this incident to be the benchmark for continued violence against Muslims.

It is important to remember that the word Hindu was first mentioned in Arabic texts to mean people who live on the other side of the Sindu river. It had no religious connotation attached to it. It is we who are a nation divided by caste/sect where Brahmins are touted to be the highest, a self-given position, which has defied all rationality. The rigidity of the community and its practices has caused the birth and spread of more tolerant religions like Jainism and Buddhism. Indian history has proved that it is not Hindus, but the sect called Brahmins, who have over and over pushed their way around, and forced themselves over all other religions wiping out their history, burning their texts and forcing them to leave the country, as they did in the case of Buddhists.

If one looks carefully, one is bound to see, there is a method in this madness. It is always, burn, kill, massacre, obliterate.  A body of thought that cannot tolerate or is not open to another point of view, is a dogmatic one, no matter by what name you call it. So pointing fingers at others and blaming them for the violence in our country, is like blaming your neighbour for breaking your house when you yourself have been doing it yourself.

The truth is, we are presently, positioned for another major turn in our country, which mixes politics with religion and many of us fear that the democracy we so happily tout as the world’s largest democracy, may soon be lost to fascists if we are not careful.

What if the people running the country make bigger blunders than Godra in the name of wiping out the Muslims? What if, we lose our nation to foreign countries again, who propagate Christianity? What if our personal beliefs are threatened and we have to wear our kastis tied around our arms and not our waists, in order to hide it under the shirt, as they did when Parsis were faced with having to protect their holy thread in Hyderabad, to hide their religion, against the forces of a state that was majorly dominated by Muslims? We have seen at the beginning of this article that even a tolerant practice, such as Buddhism, will not do, if it becomes a fanatical point of view.

The great dilemma we are in at this moment is, can we ever be a nation governed by religion? Can we even tolerate a position of “religion is the opium of the people”? We in fact, must now realise, that we are standing at the threshold of an enormous challenge, that being, to find the way out of this impending mess of caste based, voter Bank politics in the name of democracy.
 
It calls for a complete makeover of a society which has been placing too much attention to the saffron tikka on the forehead and making much ado about a set of “personal rituals”. Such practices can never become a Rule applicable to all. And if we think it can, then we must admit we have become megalomaniacs.

Even the gentlest of rulers as Asoka, would in such a case make way for a nation to fall apart, once again. The dreaded fear of falling is looming over us.



Note: The views expressed here are entirely my own
Photo credit: Unknown but possibly from the net.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Book review: Behind the beautiful forevers

Katherine Boo with her first book

To really understand the labour of love that has gone into this book, it is more than essential to know who the author of this book is: Katherine Boo.

Katherine Boo is a staff writer at The New Yorker and a former reporter and editor for The Washington Post. Her reporting has been awarded a Pulitzer Prize, a MacArthur “Genius” grant, and a National Magazine Award for Feature Writing. For the last decade, she has divided her time between the United States and India. This is her first book. In her own words, she has been writing and reporting on people living on the other side of affluence, under the poverty line, in her own country, the United States. Since the last ten years, after she fell in love and married her Indian husband, Sunil Khilnani, she has been dividing her time between India and US.  Since, 2007 upto 2011, she has been working on this project of trying to find how those who live on the very edge of megacities like Mumbai, trying to make both ends meet, take to the changes that globalization has brought to India. It is with this keenness of observation, painstaking work of interviewing, re-interviewing, observing, collecting data and collating them, writing out a journal of events and talking to the persons all of whom feature in the book, finding and working with translators, government archives, police and many other bodies, that she finally wrote a book, which is a true story, as raw as raw can get. Because it is about those people who live just behind a massive wall on the beautiful Airport Road, to Mumbai’s Sahar Airport, a cluster of peoples who came mainly from Tamil Nadu, UP and Vidharbha, who make up the meat, the blood and the society called Annawadi, just Behind the beautiful forevers. In the book, Katherine has gone deep under the skin of all her characters, as if she had inherited India, in her bloodline and her birth. It is her shadow self, as it were. And given a taste of the reality to even those who live, love and sweat it out in Mumbai.


About the book:


Annawadi is a small strip of land, about 200 yards, just behind the high wall that hides the scum from the high class jest set, global Indian in and out of Sahar Airport, Mumbai.

This small space is rife with activities that almost run all across Mumbai is terrains one may call, spaces where those who live below the poverty line, as the cities scum and slum dwellers, making a day to day living, by collecting, organizing, selling stolen goods and rich people’s waste and throw away – the scavengers. Dirty, diseased, depressed, despondent, the inhabitants of Annawadi, make their living, by close knit neighbourhood all of whom are involved in making two ends meet by competition, squabbles, fist fights, daggers, knives, curses and daring, a life so different from those who live on the other side of the wall.
The central story revolves around two families, one of Zehrusia, her husband and her children, the most handy and helpful being Abdul. They share the tin wall with the One Leg, whose backside protrudes and lips are lustrous red, as in the afternoons, when her husband is at work, she entertains one lover after another, only for a few rupees. Yet, it is not her wayward behavior that caused a flurry of events to follow, that brought life to a stand still for Zehrusia’s family. It was in fact, the latter’s desire to have a kitchen of her own, a mere wall made of brick which could hold a shelf or two. But this ignited a sequence of events that play out themselves, exposing the rot that stinks in the whole system – call it the police, hospital or whatever. But did we not know all about it all? Not, it’s one thing to read about it, it is quite another, to sit there with the with all the characters in the book and go through it ourselves! So vivid it the experience!

But what was the great Asha doing while the two families were driven to disaster? Asha, from drought driven, Vidharbha had at twenty seen poverty and lack of education. At forty, she had used her charm to get herself ahead and while she was a teacher by profession, she had been taken to warm the beds of some politicians and policemen, including the local politician of the Annawadi. She didn’t mind; after all she was able to cater to higher dreams in her heart – her daughter Manju was going to college and studying Psychology, while holding a hut school in her own hut.  She was hoping to give her in marriage to a highly placed groom in the near future. As the custodian of Annawadi, she tried her best to be a good Council to Zehrusia. But the cost of freedom was too much to pay for mere scavengers!

Through out this book the reader is faced with life that is forever on the edge and yet life that never loses hope and the struggle, despondency, even death, all are part of a hope that never leaves the heart that one day, they will see a life, on the other side of the beautiful forever.

What then is the Beautiful Forever? Read it all, in what I deem as one of the best book I have laid my hand upon, a book, everyone, who lives in Mumbai, or loves Mumbai or ever has lived there, must read.

Last but not the least: A sure BIG Literary Award to Ms Karharine Boo, I predict. Or I will be dashed!


Title
: Behind the beautiful forevers
Publisher: Hamish Hamilton (Penguin Group)
11, Community Centre,
Panchsheel Park, New Delhi 110 017
Author: Katherine Boo
Pages: 252
Price:
` 374
Buy: http://www.flipkart.com/behind-beautiful-forevers-0670086096/p/itmczyzpv9xbzgxy?pid=9780670086092&_l=gWxQa0snNjHUHKJhnj_y0w--&_r=rTZvC09ZGewtWga5620Bng--&ref=1ed13560-96ae-4e93-92a7-acef38692764

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Thursday, February 09, 2012

The literature of the elite

Sunil Gangopadhyay

The literature that is being created in our country through the medium of the printing press, is still primarily the literature of the elite. We have a country where only an average of 60% of the population is moderately educated. It is fair to assume that no more than 15 – 20% read literature. We have, therefore, a literature for which 80 – 85% of the country’s population is totally absent. Should this literature not be considered utterly unreal?” – Sunil Gangopadhyay in a memorable speech delivered at the 2010 Sahitya Akademi Award Presentation Ceremony in New Delhi.
Taking it from there, he went on to cite the example of a poor boy and his father who came to his house regularly to beg by singing songs. In fact, they came so often and sang songs, three in all, that Sunil Gangopadhyay too had learnt the lines by listening to them. On enquiry, it was found that the songs had been taught to the father by his Guru and later he taught the son the songs. Gangopadhyay had even learnt of the name of this guru from them, but had not heard of this guru, or a poet, writer by this name. He did not ask of course, if his guru was a beggar too.

Strangely, one of the songs even crept into the movies but of course the credit of the lyrics went to the composer and not the original poet/guru who had composed it.
Hundreds and thousands of poets have concealed their identity and not made much ado about their creations he went on to say, perhaps because they were too modest to “show” off their lines. Besides, only after the printing press came into being, words could find a name attached to the person who had created those lines. Many poets took advantage of this, many did not. Therefore, there is and was a huge base of the unsung poets who did not care to be out in print and that does not feature in what is called literature of today.
Going on to speak of Jean Paul Satre denouncement of Saint Jean Genet, whose writing of his Autobiography from the prison gave him a place in French Literature, Gangopadhyay, cites an example of the elite rejection of literature that does not meet their pre-decided criteria, as Genet was an anti-social, a lout but he wrote in an act of self-expression, a book which he himself hardly believed would create such a revolution in French literature. The right to self-expression is universal. In countries like India, where poverty may be one of the most critical reason why literature of those who are not publishing through the printing press are shaded out, we have a bigger monster here called the caste system, which adds insult to injury, by preempting that literature of the upper caste may prevail over let us say the Dalits whose voices are unheard, except for a few like Dilip Chitre. There may be a wealth of literature under the poverty line and on the other side of the LoD ( line of  discrimination) based on caste.
This has then given rise to religious groups which consist mainly of the downtrodden. In Bengal Sri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu’s movement which has grown to a humongous size now, called Hare Rama, Hare Krishna movement was essentially a movement of the poor and impoverished, although Sri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu belonged to a high Brahmin caste. He became a Master of the deprived, because he did not believe in the caste system. He drew to himself a huge crowd of people, hungry for a let up from their condition, by embracing a movement that gave them equal status, in the love of the Divine Krishna.
Gangopadhyay went on to say that from time to time some writers do write about the impoverished peasants and working class, and the uneducated. Yet, we are still very far from reflecting the true colour of these neglected segments of our society and although their lives are rich with poetry and music, only a fraction reaches us, the elite readers and writers of literature.
However, whatever may be the case, Gangopadhyay, had ended his remarkable speech with the observation that Radio, TV had reached every corner of the country and the resurgence of Dalit literature was heartwarming, because, this indicated that the times, they are a changing.
( Abstract taken from The Indian Literature, Sahitya Akademi’s Bi-monthly Journal, March/April 2011  issue, pgs – 21-27)


A few of my points:
The recent uprising of Literature Festivals reiterates the fact that Literature is for the elite, the educated, widely travelled and ready to flaunt their work, at the same time, it has been instrumental in creating more awareness and accessibility of the wider audience to the authors as well. 

The literature of those who chose not to make much ado about their work and not chase publishers has still not been tapped. They will go without recognition, or the pleasure of our eyes ever going through their thoughts.
Many, who have made it to feminist literature, will continue to disown, literature by women who also chose to keep a low profile. Indeed, they will not be called India’s Women, who created a stir in other people’s heart, when they sang or wrote out of their own. They will continue to be considered not among those, approved by a select society of feminists, who are in the same category as the elite who see their works printed and who attend Literary Festivals. I say this with profound sadness when a well-known person from one of Bengal’s well known literary families said about my mother, who indeed, had been too shy to publish and yet, magazines like Desh, published her work called Janini,  which brought stalwarts like Bhibutibhushan Bondhopadhyay to our door in search of this writer, who was my mother,  - “But we don’t consider your mother, excuse me for saying it, one among the woman’s voices in Bengal. If that was the case, there are hundreds and thousands of such voices in Bengal.”


RIP Sunil dahttp://news.oneindia.in/2012/10/23/bengali-novelist-sunil-gangopadhyay-passes-away-obit-1087916.html

Orbituary: The Hindu, 24 October, 2012: http://www.thehindu.com/news/the-man-who-carried-the-modern-consciousness-of-bengal/article4026398.ece

Monday, January 02, 2012

A moment of satori


As the only child of separated parents, throughout my life I held a grouse against my father, who had failed to participate in my life altogether.

He was indifferent to everything except his music. My mother and I suffered immensely due to his absence from our lives. Though we covered it up with stoic strength, yet in my heart I bore pain and anger towards him.

According to my grandmother, my father, her second son, showed early signs of detachment. His temperament was withdrawn – staying away often from the family, with only his flute for company. She feared he would join the monastery. She therefore arranged to have him married.

Her endeavour, however, met with failure. My father emerged from his shell for a while, just enough to beget me, after which he withdrew into his own.

I was born in my maternal grandparents’ house. The only difference was, that my mother stayed back and did not return.

But quite by chance something happened a couple of days ago.

A voracious reader, I came across a blog post which spoke about a place called Comilla in Bangladesh.

I knew that my forefathers came from Comilla.

The blogger, Reema Islam, wrote, “Known as Samatata between 6th-13th century AD, Bangladesh fell under the region called Vanga which was in close proximity to Magadha. Magadha was a powerful state since the time of Asoka (304-232 BC). Buddhist traveler Huien Tsang, (7th-8th century AD) wrote in his journal that he found an institution called Kanakastupa Vihara in Samatata. The newly excavated Salban Vihara in Comilla is, in all likelihood, the same institution he mentioned.”

At once, like a sudden flash of light, a shift in perspective happened. I understood for the first time where my father came from. Who is to say that he had not inherited the reclusiveness of the monks? That he himself was not a monk reincarnate, from his past lives in that land? Maybe, he just came to fulfil a past karmic connection with my mother and as soon as that was over, they separated. Maybe there was nothing of any karmic baggage that we, as father and daughter, carried around each other. Maybe, we were always free of each other and hence, we had nothing to do with each other. No great exchange, nothing to carry forward.

It was a moment of satori. A paradigm shift happened in my understanding of the relationship with my father. The anger and hurt dissolved as my heart opened up closing the door to the past.

I was free.


Julia Dutta, New Delhi




First published in Life Positive January 2012 Edition

http://www.lifepositive.com/Lifemag/full_story.asp

Published again in The Mustard Seed, a journal of creative faith August 2012 issue