A great sense of wealth, ownership and pride floods my being these days. The cause of it is not to be found anywhere near the immediate surroundings of the said being but in the far away capital of God’s Own Country to which it has an umbilical cord connection. God’s Own Country is many times more that now than ever before and I am understandably elated , in the seventh heaven if there is such a place. Ever since the treasure has been tumbling out of the sacred , secret vaults of the Sree Padmanabha Swamy Temple I am transformed beyond words. A terrible beauty is born. I can see a golden ring around my head , whether my fellow Mumbaikars see it or not. The excitement gives me momentary relief from the acute mental and emotional trauma which I have been passing through in the last two and a half months .
My actual acquaintance with the temple is minimal. A passing , by the way visit decades ago. A brief glimpse of the Ananthashayanam. Ditto for the capital city of GOC. A Palghatti goes more often to Chennai than to Thiruananthapuram. But the glory of Travancore , the nobility of its royalty and the loving reverence Their Highnesses still command were brought home to me mainly by my professor at Victoria, Dr.Padmini Nair from TVM whose rented house in Pgt I used to frequent to talk literature and also to bask in her love and affection .
Strangely, Thiruananthapuram became even more real to me when I read C. V.’s classic novel Marthanda Varma. Yes, I did manage it i.e. wading through the heavy prose and following the intricate plot and enjoying the beauties and lighter moments along the way. It turned out to be a fruitful exercise as well ,as much later, I could present a paper on it at a Seminar on ‘The Colonial Impact on Indian Literature’ organized by the English Dept. of the University of Mumbai. Marthanda Varma was inspired by and closely modelled on the great Scottish historical novelist Sir Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe
The challenge for me was to make the novel appealing to an audience of mostly non- Malayalees with nil knowledge of Kerala history or the great names in it. It was the name , ‘Padmanabhan’ my husband’s name coincidently and thus my surname , that helped me make the bridge. I told them of the glory of the name in Kerala, especially in Trivandrum because of the ruling deity, Sree Padmanabha Swami. Marthanda Varma is the story of Padmanabhan versus Padmanabhan – Anantha Padmanabhan on behalf of / for Marthanda Varma against Padmanabhan Thampi alias Pappu for himself . Pappu as in Pappu Kalani, the politician with a criminal background from Ulhasnagar is well known name here. A reference to the Malayalam film ‘Kulam’ was another hook . But the real bomb at which some of the men in the audience woke up and took note was when I dropped the name of Bhanupriya who played the role of Subhadra , the iconic heroine of the novel.
From shoka came the sloka , says Valmiki. Great poetry is born out of pain and suffering or witnessing a scene of pain and suffering. Meppathur Narayana Bhattahiri’s Narayaneeyam is an instance of the first. If I were as divinely gifted as Valmiki or Meppathur I would have written a long ode to You, Sree Padmanabha , a poetic appeal to restore the joy of wellness & cheerful living to all those who, like my husband right now, are suffering from various debilitating ailments and disorientations. But , Lord, as You have not blessed me with the gift of poesy , hearken to my prayer in my poor prose laced a little with borrowed verse and bestow Aayurarogysoukhyam to all of Your creation.
Published in City Journal on 9th July, 2011
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Fun-damentalism - Part II
Food fundamentalisms in India can be classified along regional lines. The North- South divide is becoming less and less pronounced among the younger generations who are born into a more cosmopolitan cuisine not just in the metros but even in the small towns and interiors. But older palates are still very picky. I can speak with a degree of authority only on South , esp. Mallu food fetishes, as I personally suffer from some of them.
The general love of rice and rice and more rice in its myriad avatars morphing into breakfast , lunch, tea time snacks , dinner & supper is the most important of them. In this passion , the annachis are also with us. Rice extremists wont have any truck with chappathi, porotta or any wheat / maida creations. In whichever part of the world they find themselves they will look for idli,dosa, uthappa as they are made in Palakkad , Coimbatore or the original Udipi or Mangalore – not the type served in Udipi restaurants in Mumbai which are mongrels ! They would also condemn any sambhar that does not taste like their traditional fried-ground coconut , coriander, chilli,onion plus, plus masala concoction !
I mention Palakkad specially because that is where the idli had reached perfection in the form of the famous Ramasseri idli, though nowadays Ramasseri idli has only the appearance. The melting in the mouth and the out of the world taste is just a memory. It is just business and material for TV cookery shows, now. But folks raised in PGT have a higher standard in the matter of idlis than others. My Valiettan used to even surmise that we – the typical Palghatties especially of our family, Kenath – were born out of a giant idli ! The same could be said of our Thekkan friends vis-a vis puttu and kappa or about the Vadakkans and their pathiri…Mention of pathiri does not merely cause a craving in me but also triggers memories of my hostel life at Providence College, Calicut.
Next to food, come clothes and personal appearance.
The attraction of jeans and tops and such western wear for young girls is seen as a threat to Indian culture by the traditional Indian male. Hence sartorial and related fundamentalisms about what women should wear. Many Mallu males, for instance, hate lipstick and what they call ‘ the painted look’, abhor the ‘off- shoulder ’ tops, spaghetti straps & short skirts . Their fantasies are only about long hair, oiled and adorned with jasmine , figures fully draped in sarees or ‘set mundus’, and faces fair, shy and coy ! Among women there are the silk fundamentalists – the Kanjeepuram ,Pochempalli ,Benares, Murshidabad types- and the cotton queens, collectors of handlooms from all over the country . They are quite snooty about their taste and look down upon all other females who don’t share their textile theology.
Among the young I notice a new fire for the olden, golden practices, the aggressive championing of what was just routine in ancient / not so ancient times, like Yoga, Ayurveda , organic farming and so on. Last week a Mumbai-raised youngster gave me a sermon on the allopathic evil and the superiority of our own systems of medicine But he doesn’t seem to have heard of Ashtangahridayam on which the preparation of the kashayam he showed me was based ! Home birthing , I think , is the latest female fundamentalism that is catching on. On Amrita TV , I happened to listen to a young mother waxing evangelical about it. Home birthing was the norm some forty/fifty years ago in India and hospitalization was the exception. But now it is coming back , in a more self conscious and sophisticated garb. Very much like organic farming. There was only natural manure and natural farming in the 40s and even the 50s. Chemical fertilizers and insecticides were seen as saviours by farmers , then. But now they stand exposed as the enemies of the good earth and her children . Hence organic farming. Old wines in new bottles. Going back to nature , to the fundamentals of life. Not a bad trend . The only catch is the new bottles are a bit too expensive.
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The general love of rice and rice and more rice in its myriad avatars morphing into breakfast , lunch, tea time snacks , dinner & supper is the most important of them. In this passion , the annachis are also with us. Rice extremists wont have any truck with chappathi, porotta or any wheat / maida creations. In whichever part of the world they find themselves they will look for idli,dosa, uthappa as they are made in Palakkad , Coimbatore or the original Udipi or Mangalore – not the type served in Udipi restaurants in Mumbai which are mongrels ! They would also condemn any sambhar that does not taste like their traditional fried-ground coconut , coriander, chilli,onion plus, plus masala concoction !
I mention Palakkad specially because that is where the idli had reached perfection in the form of the famous Ramasseri idli, though nowadays Ramasseri idli has only the appearance. The melting in the mouth and the out of the world taste is just a memory. It is just business and material for TV cookery shows, now. But folks raised in PGT have a higher standard in the matter of idlis than others. My Valiettan used to even surmise that we – the typical Palghatties especially of our family, Kenath – were born out of a giant idli ! The same could be said of our Thekkan friends vis-a vis puttu and kappa or about the Vadakkans and their pathiri…Mention of pathiri does not merely cause a craving in me but also triggers memories of my hostel life at Providence College, Calicut.
Next to food, come clothes and personal appearance.
The attraction of jeans and tops and such western wear for young girls is seen as a threat to Indian culture by the traditional Indian male. Hence sartorial and related fundamentalisms about what women should wear. Many Mallu males, for instance, hate lipstick and what they call ‘ the painted look’, abhor the ‘off- shoulder ’ tops, spaghetti straps & short skirts . Their fantasies are only about long hair, oiled and adorned with jasmine , figures fully draped in sarees or ‘set mundus’, and faces fair, shy and coy ! Among women there are the silk fundamentalists – the Kanjeepuram ,Pochempalli ,Benares, Murshidabad types- and the cotton queens, collectors of handlooms from all over the country . They are quite snooty about their taste and look down upon all other females who don’t share their textile theology.
Among the young I notice a new fire for the olden, golden practices, the aggressive championing of what was just routine in ancient / not so ancient times, like Yoga, Ayurveda , organic farming and so on. Last week a Mumbai-raised youngster gave me a sermon on the allopathic evil and the superiority of our own systems of medicine But he doesn’t seem to have heard of Ashtangahridayam on which the preparation of the kashayam he showed me was based ! Home birthing , I think , is the latest female fundamentalism that is catching on. On Amrita TV , I happened to listen to a young mother waxing evangelical about it. Home birthing was the norm some forty/fifty years ago in India and hospitalization was the exception. But now it is coming back , in a more self conscious and sophisticated garb. Very much like organic farming. There was only natural manure and natural farming in the 40s and even the 50s. Chemical fertilizers and insecticides were seen as saviours by farmers , then. But now they stand exposed as the enemies of the good earth and her children . Hence organic farming. Old wines in new bottles. Going back to nature , to the fundamentals of life. Not a bad trend . The only catch is the new bottles are a bit too expensive.
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Fun-damentalisms - Part I
You may skip the following 3 paragraphs. They are just by the way , sharing with you, some historical funda I gathered recently on the explosive stuff. The rest of it is about the fun versions, like food fundamentalism for instance.
‘Osama was killed by the U.S.’, screamed newspaper headlines on a May morning ( 3rd , to be precise.) Agreed . But the Osama brand of fundamentalism which has now become somewhat synonymous with terrorism is and will be alive and kicking for God knows how long. I cant begin my next sentence with a ‘Believe it or not’. You have no choice but to believe it as it is very much a part of modern American history. Many of us Indians are in the dark about fundamentalism’s American connection, its American origins.
Religious fundamentalism was a late 19th , early 20th century Christian movement in the U.S., a theological battle against the modern scientific explanations of the origin of man as given by Charles Darwin. The term,‘fundamentalism’ was coined by its votaries to describe strict adherence to the Five Fundamentals of the Christian faith ,namely,
1. The Inspiration of the Bible by the Holy spirit and thanks to it the inerrancy of the Scripture. 2. The Virgin Birth of Christ 3. The belief that Christ’s death was the atonement for sin 4. The Bodily Resurrection of Christ & 5. The historical reality of Christ’s miracles.
Along similar lines , there are fundamentals which the very orthodox and right wing radicals of all other religions swear by. Hence, Islamic, Hindu, Jewish , Sikh , even Buddhist fundamentalisms. Embattled forms of spirituality as they are described, they can be both defensive and offensive. The extreme offensiveness has resulted in the formation of terror outfits that have become a nightmare not only for governments but also for you and me .
Far less offensive and much more interesting to reflect upon and categorise are the other orthodoxies which govern our lives. Foremost among them I would place food fundamentalism.. The broad division is into Veggies and Non veggies. The Veggies can be further classified into 3 fundamentalisms- Religion dictated, Caste dictated and Health oriented. The Jains obviously lead the Pack in the religious category. ‘Ahimsa paramo dharma’ is their credo. They wont shed the blood even of a white ant or a mosquito. Extreme herbivores , they avoid onions. No ban on milk though. Eggs are a no- no. Gujju shopkeepers don’t stock eggs. I wonder whether they know that market eggs generally are unfertilized eggs and therefore eating them doesn’t constitute himsa ( violence or killing ) of any prospective life.
Among Hindus , caste generally decides whether flesh , fish and fowl are eatable or not. The South Brahmins, in general, are vegetarian fundamentalists, the no-eggs, no-onion types. Filter coffee is integral to the Tambrahm life style and milk is integral to FC. So they can’t object to milk. But milk is an animal product . Drawing milk is like drawing blood ! This sub-class of veg. fundamentalism is an offshoot of animal rights activism, ahimsa’s close cousin. Long before Maneka Gandhi was born, saw a cow or a goat, Mahatma Gandhi had boycotted cow’s milk. Only extreme illness persuaded him to agree to take goat’s milk.
Obsession with health cuts across religion and caste barriers. Are humans meant by nature to be herbivores or carnivores ? The question has not been convincingly answered either way. But there is the general acceptance of the idea that somehow plant food is lighter , easier on the digestive system etc. So you have vegetarians by choice or by medical compulsion in all castes and communities.
Veg fundamentalists look down upon the Non Veggies , sniff & show disapproval of kitchens , dining rooms , homes, restaurants where non veg items are cooked , served , eaten…Some housing societies in Mumbai do not allow Non –Veg eaters to become members. Non Veg affianadoes use equally vehement retaliatory tactics. But they are mainly confined to words and attitudes. They pour utter scorn on their antagonists. Veggies are just vegetables in their eyes, incapable of human passion, action and high heroics. Just breathing corpses in other words ! Thus the bloodless war goes on between the carnivores and omnivores on the one side and the herbivores on the other.
-------------------------
‘Osama was killed by the U.S.’, screamed newspaper headlines on a May morning ( 3rd , to be precise.) Agreed . But the Osama brand of fundamentalism which has now become somewhat synonymous with terrorism is and will be alive and kicking for God knows how long. I cant begin my next sentence with a ‘Believe it or not’. You have no choice but to believe it as it is very much a part of modern American history. Many of us Indians are in the dark about fundamentalism’s American connection, its American origins.
Religious fundamentalism was a late 19th , early 20th century Christian movement in the U.S., a theological battle against the modern scientific explanations of the origin of man as given by Charles Darwin. The term,‘fundamentalism’ was coined by its votaries to describe strict adherence to the Five Fundamentals of the Christian faith ,namely,
1. The Inspiration of the Bible by the Holy spirit and thanks to it the inerrancy of the Scripture. 2. The Virgin Birth of Christ 3. The belief that Christ’s death was the atonement for sin 4. The Bodily Resurrection of Christ & 5. The historical reality of Christ’s miracles.
Along similar lines , there are fundamentals which the very orthodox and right wing radicals of all other religions swear by. Hence, Islamic, Hindu, Jewish , Sikh , even Buddhist fundamentalisms. Embattled forms of spirituality as they are described, they can be both defensive and offensive. The extreme offensiveness has resulted in the formation of terror outfits that have become a nightmare not only for governments but also for you and me .
Far less offensive and much more interesting to reflect upon and categorise are the other orthodoxies which govern our lives. Foremost among them I would place food fundamentalism.. The broad division is into Veggies and Non veggies. The Veggies can be further classified into 3 fundamentalisms- Religion dictated, Caste dictated and Health oriented. The Jains obviously lead the Pack in the religious category. ‘Ahimsa paramo dharma’ is their credo. They wont shed the blood even of a white ant or a mosquito. Extreme herbivores , they avoid onions. No ban on milk though. Eggs are a no- no. Gujju shopkeepers don’t stock eggs. I wonder whether they know that market eggs generally are unfertilized eggs and therefore eating them doesn’t constitute himsa ( violence or killing ) of any prospective life.
Among Hindus , caste generally decides whether flesh , fish and fowl are eatable or not. The South Brahmins, in general, are vegetarian fundamentalists, the no-eggs, no-onion types. Filter coffee is integral to the Tambrahm life style and milk is integral to FC. So they can’t object to milk. But milk is an animal product . Drawing milk is like drawing blood ! This sub-class of veg. fundamentalism is an offshoot of animal rights activism, ahimsa’s close cousin. Long before Maneka Gandhi was born, saw a cow or a goat, Mahatma Gandhi had boycotted cow’s milk. Only extreme illness persuaded him to agree to take goat’s milk.
Obsession with health cuts across religion and caste barriers. Are humans meant by nature to be herbivores or carnivores ? The question has not been convincingly answered either way. But there is the general acceptance of the idea that somehow plant food is lighter , easier on the digestive system etc. So you have vegetarians by choice or by medical compulsion in all castes and communities.
Veg fundamentalists look down upon the Non Veggies , sniff & show disapproval of kitchens , dining rooms , homes, restaurants where non veg items are cooked , served , eaten…Some housing societies in Mumbai do not allow Non –Veg eaters to become members. Non Veg affianadoes use equally vehement retaliatory tactics. But they are mainly confined to words and attitudes. They pour utter scorn on their antagonists. Veggies are just vegetables in their eyes, incapable of human passion, action and high heroics. Just breathing corpses in other words ! Thus the bloodless war goes on between the carnivores and omnivores on the one side and the herbivores on the other.
-------------------------
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
The Imperial PowerSoft
I missed the actual ceremony but I did watch a lot of the scenes before and after , like many of my fellow countrymen and women. I also read the report that more Indians watched the Kate -Will wedding on TV than the Brits. Which is understandable . There just are more English knowing Indians than there are Brits. There just are more TV viewing Indians than English folk. All because there just are more Indian men , women & children on the planet than English men, women & children.
We easily outnumber them and, despite the Independence struggle and the Independence, we are still overwhelmingly in love with them, their Queen, their Prince of Wales, their People’s Princess and her sons who are like our princes . We follow anyone they date, marry or not marry. Given a choice , we would all want to be them, the British i.e. In the second decade of the 21st century with so many Indians living out there in London, Oxford and various other parts of Britain the two centuries old secret fantasy of Indians has become a reality .
The answer to why Indians , all post-colonials for that matter, are so enamoured of everything British lies in the one expression which is now made so much of by thinkers and speakers on international relations, namely ‘Soft Power’. Long before Harvard Professor, Joseph .S. Nye coined it and developed the concept in 1990 , the British rulers had perfected the art of using soft power ‘to attract and co-opt’, as Nye puts it, the subject nations to want what they (the British ) wanted.
The introduction of English education in India and making English the official language of the country were master strokes in the power play of the soft variety. Beginning with the nursery rhymes which elite Indian parents took pains to teach their children, English poetry and literature worked as weapons of mass conversion of the Indian psyche to an English way of thinking , feeling and imagining. British history from its very origins and the English language from its origins in the the Anglo Saxon times were part of the syllabus for students majoring in English literature. I know it from the inside as I had gone through it all. And I must add I have benefited by it, both materially and psychologically.
Various other British systems and practices, manners, cuisine, cricket et al which can be put into the soft power basket made their way into the subcontinent’s physical as well as mental space. More than one hundred years of such infusion could not be shaken off at midnight , August 1947. We continue/d to be part of the Commonwealth of Nations . The British Council ensures the maintenance of the influence, though the libraries, alas, are in the withdrawal mode right now.
We have out-Britished the British in our passion and flair for cricket. We write more innovative fiction in English than the English novelists and beat them at the prize winning game . In parliamentary democracy, strangely, reverse osmosis seems to be taking place. Reports suggest their MPs and Ministers out there are as as bad as ours in the matter of spending and thieving public funds.
But they have the monarchy still, far removed from muck of this kind. The Queen , personally , is above board, despite her siblings and progeny turning Buckingham Palace into F.....gham palace. I suggest that the Commonwealth of Nations honour her with a medal for standing the Duke Of Edinburgh, his foot ever in his mouth, for 63 long years. That is Right Royal Endurance . We, Indians salute that regardless of any power, hard or soft !
We easily outnumber them and, despite the Independence struggle and the Independence, we are still overwhelmingly in love with them, their Queen, their Prince of Wales, their People’s Princess and her sons who are like our princes . We follow anyone they date, marry or not marry. Given a choice , we would all want to be them, the British i.e. In the second decade of the 21st century with so many Indians living out there in London, Oxford and various other parts of Britain the two centuries old secret fantasy of Indians has become a reality .
The answer to why Indians , all post-colonials for that matter, are so enamoured of everything British lies in the one expression which is now made so much of by thinkers and speakers on international relations, namely ‘Soft Power’. Long before Harvard Professor, Joseph .S. Nye coined it and developed the concept in 1990 , the British rulers had perfected the art of using soft power ‘to attract and co-opt’, as Nye puts it, the subject nations to want what they (the British ) wanted.
The introduction of English education in India and making English the official language of the country were master strokes in the power play of the soft variety. Beginning with the nursery rhymes which elite Indian parents took pains to teach their children, English poetry and literature worked as weapons of mass conversion of the Indian psyche to an English way of thinking , feeling and imagining. British history from its very origins and the English language from its origins in the the Anglo Saxon times were part of the syllabus for students majoring in English literature. I know it from the inside as I had gone through it all. And I must add I have benefited by it, both materially and psychologically.
Various other British systems and practices, manners, cuisine, cricket et al which can be put into the soft power basket made their way into the subcontinent’s physical as well as mental space. More than one hundred years of such infusion could not be shaken off at midnight , August 1947. We continue/d to be part of the Commonwealth of Nations . The British Council ensures the maintenance of the influence, though the libraries, alas, are in the withdrawal mode right now.
We have out-Britished the British in our passion and flair for cricket. We write more innovative fiction in English than the English novelists and beat them at the prize winning game . In parliamentary democracy, strangely, reverse osmosis seems to be taking place. Reports suggest their MPs and Ministers out there are as as bad as ours in the matter of spending and thieving public funds.
But they have the monarchy still, far removed from muck of this kind. The Queen , personally , is above board, despite her siblings and progeny turning Buckingham Palace into F.....gham palace. I suggest that the Commonwealth of Nations honour her with a medal for standing the Duke Of Edinburgh, his foot ever in his mouth, for 63 long years. That is Right Royal Endurance . We, Indians salute that regardless of any power, hard or soft !
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Help thou, Mine Unbelief !
‘Heaven lies about us in our infancy’, said Wordsworth. One sort of heaven is when you are able to have complete trust in someone/ something.. The infant trusts its mother blindly , unquestioningly , fully. The same trust it is able to transfer to the concept of God for a few more years. Lucky and blessed are those who can retain this blissful, childlike state throughout their lives. Well, I don’t think I am one of them. I have been oscillating between belief and unbelief all my adult life. I do need belief to carry on with life even on a day to day level. I do pray , beg for this and that. My petitionary prayers spring not out of a love of God but out of a love of myself. And when my prayers are answered I thank the Lord like anyone else does .
But faith of the kind that moved the millions who wept at the passing away of Sathya Sai Baba is alien to me. I have seen Baba once . I forget the exact year. It was a balcony appearance in the palace near Govt. Victoria College, Palakkad. I wasn’t too moved, to be honest . I didn’t know much about him , then. Baba was young , in his forties , may be. And I was a lot younger, an adolescent very much under the influence of rationalistic writings like those of Bertrand Russell. In those days of utter ignorance and vainglory, I enjoyed sporting an atheistic/ skeptical façade.
Do I know better now ? Not too sure . But certainly , I have stopped being cynical and dismissive about the spiritually evolved souls like Baba. Magicians assert that the miracles that Sai Baba performed can be replicated by them. They could be right, too. Quite likely , the residual rationalist in me whispers , that he was an adept illusionist , who could , reportedly, produce gold chains and vibhuti from the air. But Puttaparthi is no illusion and no magician can replicate that miracle. That ultra modern township which he crafted out of a humble village in the back of beyond is the monument to the Satya or the Truth of Satya Sai Baba.
In fact, all the institutions and projects that have been functioning under his inspiration bear witness to that Satya. The Dharmakshetra in Mumbai is one such centre . Baba’s devotees conduct various programmes for students there. I was privileged to accompany a few of my students to this centre , along with my colleague , Prof. Rajasree who is a Sai Bhakta. The experience was memorable on two counts. One was, of course , the spiritual high that was ensured by the music and the talk. The other was the taste of the food - breakfast & lunch- all home cooked and brought to the venue by the women devotees. I mention this in all solemnity.
To the hungry, God comes in the form of food. It was a cardinal rule with Baba, explained my friend, that his disciples should see to it that all those who come to his programmes anywhere should return with their stomachs’ need met satisfactorily. The way to the heart is through the stomach ! The practical saints know this. Satya Sai Baba was a practical saint who empathized with the hunger and thirst of ordinary mortals. After tasting that manna at Dharmakshetra , I must have become half a devotee. Otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this.
Total devotion which would mean total surrender , as I had confessed at the outset , is, alas, beyond me. It is one of the beautiful ironies of the religious life that total surrender to God or the god-like Guru is liberation. The liberation from doubts that Arjuna attained in Kurukshetra when he witnessed the Cosmic Form , the Viswa roopa , of Krishna. The liberation that St. Thomas , the Doubting Thomas , experienced when he could see and touch Jesus after the Resurrection couldn’t have been different. I am still waiting for that ‘ Lord, my God!’moment.
Published in the City Journal ( title changed to the somewhat tame Make Me Believe ) on 4th May ,2011.
But faith of the kind that moved the millions who wept at the passing away of Sathya Sai Baba is alien to me. I have seen Baba once . I forget the exact year. It was a balcony appearance in the palace near Govt. Victoria College, Palakkad. I wasn’t too moved, to be honest . I didn’t know much about him , then. Baba was young , in his forties , may be. And I was a lot younger, an adolescent very much under the influence of rationalistic writings like those of Bertrand Russell. In those days of utter ignorance and vainglory, I enjoyed sporting an atheistic/ skeptical façade.
Do I know better now ? Not too sure . But certainly , I have stopped being cynical and dismissive about the spiritually evolved souls like Baba. Magicians assert that the miracles that Sai Baba performed can be replicated by them. They could be right, too. Quite likely , the residual rationalist in me whispers , that he was an adept illusionist , who could , reportedly, produce gold chains and vibhuti from the air. But Puttaparthi is no illusion and no magician can replicate that miracle. That ultra modern township which he crafted out of a humble village in the back of beyond is the monument to the Satya or the Truth of Satya Sai Baba.
In fact, all the institutions and projects that have been functioning under his inspiration bear witness to that Satya. The Dharmakshetra in Mumbai is one such centre . Baba’s devotees conduct various programmes for students there. I was privileged to accompany a few of my students to this centre , along with my colleague , Prof. Rajasree who is a Sai Bhakta. The experience was memorable on two counts. One was, of course , the spiritual high that was ensured by the music and the talk. The other was the taste of the food - breakfast & lunch- all home cooked and brought to the venue by the women devotees. I mention this in all solemnity.
To the hungry, God comes in the form of food. It was a cardinal rule with Baba, explained my friend, that his disciples should see to it that all those who come to his programmes anywhere should return with their stomachs’ need met satisfactorily. The way to the heart is through the stomach ! The practical saints know this. Satya Sai Baba was a practical saint who empathized with the hunger and thirst of ordinary mortals. After tasting that manna at Dharmakshetra , I must have become half a devotee. Otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this.
Total devotion which would mean total surrender , as I had confessed at the outset , is, alas, beyond me. It is one of the beautiful ironies of the religious life that total surrender to God or the god-like Guru is liberation. The liberation from doubts that Arjuna attained in Kurukshetra when he witnessed the Cosmic Form , the Viswa roopa , of Krishna. The liberation that St. Thomas , the Doubting Thomas , experienced when he could see and touch Jesus after the Resurrection couldn’t have been different. I am still waiting for that ‘ Lord, my God!’moment.
Published in the City Journal ( title changed to the somewhat tame Make Me Believe ) on 4th May ,2011.
Friday, April 15, 2011
A Day with O.N.V. Part II - Killer English & D(r)ying Mother Tongues
The Multi- lingual Seminar organized by Maha- Keraleeyam as part of its programme of felicitation of O.N.V. held a mirror upto all the ironies in our lives as Indians. The theme of the seminar was : ‘ Drying Regional Languages And The Challenges Confronting The Indian Cultural Identity.’ Papers were presented by eminent people from five regional language organizations - The Karnataka Sangha , Mumbai , The Marathi Abhyas Kendra , The Bombay Tamil Sangam, The Andhra Mahasabha, Mumbai and Maha Keraleeyam.
In multilingual Mumbai, the papers had to be in the one & only link language, English. An irony that we will be living with for all time to come. All the speakers, except one, bowed to ‘this inevitable compromise’ as O.N.V. himself did in his concluding speech. Only the Tamil Sangam President, Prof. Jayakanteepan read his paper in Tamil. Arumaiyana Tamil for those who could follow it. But worse than Greek & Latin to the rest ! President of the Andhra Mahasabha , A. Mallikarjun Reddy,on the other hand , showed that a solution is possible if Indians have the will, by speaking in all 5 languages plus English.
English has always been with us ever since the famous Macaulay’s Minutes. But despite the dominance of English in the 19 and early 20 th centuries English language & literature actually nourished writing in regional languages. This was a point made by the Malayalam poet and spokesperson Sri. K.S .Menon . O.N.V. himself amplified it.
The IT revolution and globalization have changed the equations drastically. English language has become, as Prof.Deepak Pawar,of the Marathi Abhyas
Kendra put it , the default tool of cultural globalization. Besides being the vehicle of the culture of a people, language has an economic and political aspect. Now these aspects alone seem to matter for the aam janta and the sarkar. Both Prof. Pawar & Dr. Prakash Parab of MAK stressed the need to offer economic incentives to people, Marathi-speaking or not, who take the trouble to learn Marathi. Mr. Rammohan Khanapurkar spoke of technological solutions which can make the IT revolution more inclusive. He blamed the State Govt. for not aggrsseively implementing Unicode which is the standard encoding for Indian Languages Computing. Dr. Gurunath D. Joshi , President of the Karnataka Sangha, Mumbai also opined that the Karnataka govt. should persuade the soft ware companies to develop all the technical infrastructure.
Next to English, Hindi is seen as another carnivore in the Indian language jungle. Bollywood has made Hindi so delectable. And the various Central Govt. iniatives in popularizing it have really worked well. Thus a big area of our mindspace or tongue space is cornered by either or both these languages in the metros and even the interiors.
How does O.N.V. view the language/ culture scene ? He expressed deep respect and gratitude to the English language which had thrown open the windows to the intellectual ideological treasure houses of the West, including Marxism. Quoting Arnold Toynbee, he said the most effective weapon that the British wielded was an unseen weapon . It was the English language. But the subdued people acquired that missile and used it against the Empire. The poet’s advice was to treat English as an honoured guest. Entertain it as you would a guest, in the drawing room and dining room. But don’t take it to the bedroom !
The fears of the death of our languages and the emergence of a boring , uniform culture are not unjustified. But I find certain counter forces emerging which can see to the flourishing of local cultures and languages. These Samajams, Sangams and Kendras are themselves a hopeful sign. I
spoke about the oral tradition through which I acquired the beautiful poetic fragments of my mother tongue as well as of Sanskrit. Oral tradition of the tech kind is being established by the cassette industry now. One of the three youngsters who recited O.N.V.’s poems had learned ‘ Amma Vilikkunnu’ from the cassette.
The regional channels with their music reality shows and poetry recitation contests are attracting the youth towards their linguistic traditions. The cinema is another force which can keep the linguistic communities connected. Some parents are , with a will, passing on their love of the mother tongue to the children. Ancient rites and rituals like the ‘ Athirathram ’ in Panjal, the popularity of Poorams , Vedies , Melas and the fesivals seem to promise the survival of some cultural diversity .
Published in City Journal on Monday 11th April, 2011
In multilingual Mumbai, the papers had to be in the one & only link language, English. An irony that we will be living with for all time to come. All the speakers, except one, bowed to ‘this inevitable compromise’ as O.N.V. himself did in his concluding speech. Only the Tamil Sangam President, Prof. Jayakanteepan read his paper in Tamil. Arumaiyana Tamil for those who could follow it. But worse than Greek & Latin to the rest ! President of the Andhra Mahasabha , A. Mallikarjun Reddy,on the other hand , showed that a solution is possible if Indians have the will, by speaking in all 5 languages plus English.
English has always been with us ever since the famous Macaulay’s Minutes. But despite the dominance of English in the 19 and early 20 th centuries English language & literature actually nourished writing in regional languages. This was a point made by the Malayalam poet and spokesperson Sri. K.S .Menon . O.N.V. himself amplified it.
The IT revolution and globalization have changed the equations drastically. English language has become, as Prof.Deepak Pawar,of the Marathi Abhyas
Kendra put it , the default tool of cultural globalization. Besides being the vehicle of the culture of a people, language has an economic and political aspect. Now these aspects alone seem to matter for the aam janta and the sarkar. Both Prof. Pawar & Dr. Prakash Parab of MAK stressed the need to offer economic incentives to people, Marathi-speaking or not, who take the trouble to learn Marathi. Mr. Rammohan Khanapurkar spoke of technological solutions which can make the IT revolution more inclusive. He blamed the State Govt. for not aggrsseively implementing Unicode which is the standard encoding for Indian Languages Computing. Dr. Gurunath D. Joshi , President of the Karnataka Sangha, Mumbai also opined that the Karnataka govt. should persuade the soft ware companies to develop all the technical infrastructure.
Next to English, Hindi is seen as another carnivore in the Indian language jungle. Bollywood has made Hindi so delectable. And the various Central Govt. iniatives in popularizing it have really worked well. Thus a big area of our mindspace or tongue space is cornered by either or both these languages in the metros and even the interiors.
How does O.N.V. view the language/ culture scene ? He expressed deep respect and gratitude to the English language which had thrown open the windows to the intellectual ideological treasure houses of the West, including Marxism. Quoting Arnold Toynbee, he said the most effective weapon that the British wielded was an unseen weapon . It was the English language. But the subdued people acquired that missile and used it against the Empire. The poet’s advice was to treat English as an honoured guest. Entertain it as you would a guest, in the drawing room and dining room. But don’t take it to the bedroom !
The fears of the death of our languages and the emergence of a boring , uniform culture are not unjustified. But I find certain counter forces emerging which can see to the flourishing of local cultures and languages. These Samajams, Sangams and Kendras are themselves a hopeful sign. I
spoke about the oral tradition through which I acquired the beautiful poetic fragments of my mother tongue as well as of Sanskrit. Oral tradition of the tech kind is being established by the cassette industry now. One of the three youngsters who recited O.N.V.’s poems had learned ‘ Amma Vilikkunnu’ from the cassette.
The regional channels with their music reality shows and poetry recitation contests are attracting the youth towards their linguistic traditions. The cinema is another force which can keep the linguistic communities connected. Some parents are , with a will, passing on their love of the mother tongue to the children. Ancient rites and rituals like the ‘ Athirathram ’ in Panjal, the popularity of Poorams , Vedies , Melas and the fesivals seem to promise the survival of some cultural diversity .
Published in City Journal on Monday 11th April, 2011
A Day with O.N.V. Part I
The 27th of March , 2011. It was a Sunday with a difference for an incredible
number of Mumbai Mallus like me when they got the opportunity to spend the whole day with Jnananpeeth awardee, PadmaVibhushan ,Ottaplakkal /plavil Nambiadikkal Neelakandan Velu Kurup. I ferreted out this full name of our beloved poet from the Net. Mea culpa ! Strange that I didn’t know it before nor felt the need to know , considering that O.N.V. has been so much a part of my consciousness , growing up as I did to the echoing music of his KPAC songs & film lyrics .
Perhaps it isn’t so strange after all, as I had got to know them all mainly through oral tradition. ‘Ponnarivalambiliyilu kanneriyunnole …….’ is the earliest memory. My father would sing it and explain the metaphor not only for us in the family but also the workers on our land.
What I realize now is that all these heard melodies are only the tip of the iceberg. They are what make him a cult figure of popular culture, a poet of the masses. Those unheard or less heard ones , the more meaning-laden poems of oceanic depth & cosmic breadth which form the iceberg are what make him a true successor to his illustrious predecessors in Malayalam poetry. A poet of the classes, too,in other words, though he might not like this sort of differentiation of people into masses and classes.
The Keraleeya Kendra Sanghatana , Bombay or Maha – Keraleeyam had organized this grand meet at the Manav Seva Sangh Hall in King Circle. The event had 2 parts. The morning was for the celebration and the felicitation. The afternoon’s highlight was a Multilingual Seminar. Maha Keraleeyam, by the way, stands for Maharashtra Keraleeyam. So local MLA, Eknath Gaekwad was the VIP guest. Well he was bowled over when he heard himself
being welcomed in chaste Marathi by the Malayali hostess. Gaekwad was all praise for the Mumbai Malayalis who try to preserve not only the Malayali culture but are also thoughtful about furthering the cause of Maharashtrian culture.
Then it was a rain of roses for O.N.V , roses from various organizations and individuals….The flowers were followed by something even more amazing - a musical rendering of three of his poems, ‘ Pengal’, ‘ Sooryageetham’ and ‘ Amma Vilikkunnu’ by three Mumbai youngsters of the school-college age group… I shall be reverting to this beautiful experience later .
The most memorable part of the forenoon was , of course, O.N.V’s speech, his response to all the affection and adulation showered on him by Mumbai Malayalees. “Amidst all the difficulties and sorrows which beset all of us nearly always , there are certain moments when we feel that it is nice to be alive. This is one such moment for me. ”, he began thus, in typical style , establishing rapport with common humanity instantaneously and covered a lot of ground in a brief while. He spoke of his intimate connection with the city, the innumerable visits after that first visit to Mumbai in the company of P.B. Sreenivas & Devarajan in 1952 when they were received at the station by the Titans of the Indian People’s Theatre Association , K.A.Abbas & Balraj Sahni.
He touched upon the current crazes and curses. Jeremiah-like, he cautioned us, his people against the false gods of big money and material wealth , against the arrogance of tall towers and big structures which belittle the human being. He had an answer , a concrete answer to the age old question – (as old as Plato !) : Of what use is poetry ?. English poets Sir Philip Sidney and P.B. Shelley had answered this question in their own ways.
O.N.V.’s answer is “ Go and see the Silent Valley National Park. That is the monument to the power of poetry.” The voices of a handful of poets like
Sugatha Kumari, Ayyappa Panicker, Kadamanitta and O.N.V . were heard and listened to in Delhi and this treasure house of nature was saved.
Time flew as we sat enjoying the poetic meal for the soul. Soon it was time for the sadya for the stomach. And it was, indeed, a lavish feast !
Published in City journal on 4th April, 2011
A Day With O.N.V.
[ Part I ]
By Lakshmi Padmanabhan
The 27th of March , 2011. It was a Sunday with a difference for an incredible
number of Mumbai Mallus like me when they got the opportunity to spend the whole day with Jnananpeeth awardee, PadmaVibhushan ,Ottaplakkal /plavil Nambiadikkal Neelakandan Velu Kurup. I ferreted out this full name of our beloved poet from the Net. Mea culpa ! Strange that I didn’t know it before nor felt the need to know , considering that O.N.V. has been so much a part of my consciousness , growing up as I did to the echoing music of his KPAC songs & film lyrics .
Perhaps it isn’t so strange after all, as I had got to know them all mainly through oral tradition. ‘Ponnarivalambiliyilu kanneriyunnole …….’ is the earliest memory. My father would sing it and explain the metaphor not only for us in the family but also the workers on our land.
What I realize now is that all these heard melodies are only the tip of the iceberg. They are what make him a cult figure of popular culture, a poet of the masses. Those unheard or less heard ones , the more meaning-laden poems of oceanic depth & cosmic breadth which form the iceberg are what make him a true successor to his illustrious predecessors in Malayalam poetry. A poet of the classes, too,in other words, though he might not like this sort of differentiation of people into masses and classes.
The Keraleeya Kendra Sanghatana , Bombay or Maha – Keraleeyam had organized this grand meet at the Manav Seva Sangh Hall in King Circle. The event had 2 parts. The morning was for the celebration and the felicitation. The afternoon’s highlight was a Multilingual Seminar. Maha Keraleeyam, by the way, stands for Maharashtra Keraleeyam. So local MLA, Eknath Gaekwad was the VIP guest. Well he was bowled over when he heard himself
being welcomed in chaste Marathi by the Malayali hostess. Gaekwad was all praise for the Mumbai Malayalis who try to preserve not only the Malayali culture but are also thoughtful about furthering the cause of Maharashtrian culture.
Then it was a rain of roses for O.N.V , roses from various organizations and individuals….The flowers were followed by something even more amazing - a musical rendering of three of his poems, ‘ Pengal’, ‘ Sooryageetham’ and ‘ Amma Vilikkunnu’ by three Mumbai youngsters of the school-college age group… I shall be reverting to this beautiful experience later .
The most memorable part of the forenoon was , of course, O.N.V’s speech, his response to all the affection and adulation showered on him by Mumbai Malayalees. “Amidst all the difficulties and sorrows which beset all of us nearly always , there are certain moments when we feel that it is nice to be alive. This is one such moment for me. ”, he began thus, in typical style , establishing rapport with common humanity instantaneously and covered a lot of ground in a brief while. He spoke of his intimate connection with the city, the innumerable visits after that first visit to Mumbai in the company of P.B. Sreenivas & Devarajan in 1952 when they were received at the station by the Titans of the Indian People’s Theatre Association , K.A.Abbas & Balraj Sahni.
He touched upon the current crazes and curses. Jeremiah-like, he cautioned us, his people against the false gods of big money and material wealth , against the arrogance of tall towers and big structures which belittle the human being. He had an answer , a concrete answer to the age old question – (as old as Plato !) : Of what use is poetry ?. English poets Sir Philip Sidney and P.B. Shelley had answered this question in their own ways.
O.N.V.’s answer is “ Go and see the Silent Valley National Park. That is the monument to the power of poetry.” The voices of a handful of poets like
Sugatha Kumari, Ayyappa Panicker, Kadamanitta and O.N.V . were heard and listened to in Delhi and this treasure house of nature was saved.
Time flew as we sat enjoying the poetic meal for the soul. Soon it was time for the sadya for the stomach. And it was, indeed, a lavish feast !
---------------------------------------------------------------------
A Day With O.N.V.
[ Part I ]
By Lakshmi Padmanabhan
The 27th of March , 2011. It was a Sunday with a difference for an incredible
number of Mumbai Mallus like me when they got the opportunity to spend the whole day with Jnananpeeth awardee, PadmaVibhushan ,Ottaplakkal /plavil Nambiadikkal Neelakandan Velu Kurup. I ferreted out this full name of our beloved poet from the Net. Mea culpa ! Strange that I didn’t know it before nor felt the need to know , considering that O.N.V. has been so much a part of my consciousness , growing up as I did to the echoing music of his KPAC songs & film lyrics .
Perhaps it isn’t so strange after all, as I had got to know them all mainly through oral tradition. ‘Ponnarivalambiliyilu kanneriyunnole …….’ is the earliest memory. My father would sing it and explain the metaphor not only for us in the family but also the workers on our land.
What I realize now is that all these heard melodies are only the tip of the iceberg. They are what make him a cult figure of popular culture, a poet of the masses. Those unheard or less heard ones , the more meaning-laden poems of oceanic depth & cosmic breadth which form the iceberg are what make him a true successor to his illustrious predecessors in Malayalam poetry. A poet of the classes, too,in other words, though he might not like this sort of differentiation of people into masses and classes.
The Keraleeya Kendra Sanghatana , Bombay or Maha – Keraleeyam had organized this grand meet at the Manav Seva Sangh Hall in King Circle. The event had 2 parts. The morning was for the celebration and the felicitation. The afternoon’s highlight was a Multilingual Seminar. Maha Keraleeyam, by the way, stands for Maharashtra Keraleeyam. So local MLA, Eknath Gaekwad was the VIP guest. Well he was bowled over when he heard himself
being welcomed in chaste Marathi by the Malayali hostess. Gaekwad was all praise for the Mumbai Malayalis who try to preserve not only the Malayali culture but are also thoughtful about furthering the cause of Maharashtrian culture.
Then it was a rain of roses for O.N.V , roses from various organizations and individuals….The flowers were followed by something even more amazing - a musical rendering of three of his poems, ‘ Pengal’, ‘ Sooryageetham’ and ‘ Amma Vilikkunnu’ by three Mumbai youngsters of the school-college age group… I shall be reverting to this beautiful experience later .
The most memorable part of the forenoon was , of course, O.N.V’s speech, his response to all the affection and adulation showered on him by Mumbai Malayalees. “Amidst all the difficulties and sorrows which beset all of us nearly always , there are certain moments when we feel that it is nice to be alive. This is one such moment for me. ”, he began thus, in typical style , establishing rapport with common humanity instantaneously and covered a lot of ground in a brief while. He spoke of his intimate connection with the city, the innumerable visits after that first visit to Mumbai in the company of P.B. Sreenivas & Devarajan in 1952 when they were received at the station by the Titans of the Indian People’s Theatre Association , K.A.Abbas & Balraj Sahni.
He touched upon the current crazes and curses. Jeremiah-like, he cautioned us, his people against the false gods of big money and material wealth , against the arrogance of tall towers and big structures which belittle the human being. He had an answer , a concrete answer to the age old question – (as old as Plato !) : Of what use is poetry ?. English poets Sir Philip Sidney and P.B. Shelley had answered this question in their own ways.
O.N.V.’s answer is “ Go and see the Silent Valley National Park. That is the monument to the power of poetry.” The voices of a handful of poets like
Sugatha Kumari, Ayyappa Panicker, Kadamanitta and O.N.V . were heard and listened to in Delhi and this treasure house of nature was saved.
Time flew as we sat enjoying the poetic meal for the soul. Soon it was time for the sadya for the stomach. And it was, indeed, a lavish feast !
---------------------------------------------------------------------
number of Mumbai Mallus like me when they got the opportunity to spend the whole day with Jnananpeeth awardee, PadmaVibhushan ,Ottaplakkal /plavil Nambiadikkal Neelakandan Velu Kurup. I ferreted out this full name of our beloved poet from the Net. Mea culpa ! Strange that I didn’t know it before nor felt the need to know , considering that O.N.V. has been so much a part of my consciousness , growing up as I did to the echoing music of his KPAC songs & film lyrics .
Perhaps it isn’t so strange after all, as I had got to know them all mainly through oral tradition. ‘Ponnarivalambiliyilu kanneriyunnole …….’ is the earliest memory. My father would sing it and explain the metaphor not only for us in the family but also the workers on our land.
What I realize now is that all these heard melodies are only the tip of the iceberg. They are what make him a cult figure of popular culture, a poet of the masses. Those unheard or less heard ones , the more meaning-laden poems of oceanic depth & cosmic breadth which form the iceberg are what make him a true successor to his illustrious predecessors in Malayalam poetry. A poet of the classes, too,in other words, though he might not like this sort of differentiation of people into masses and classes.
The Keraleeya Kendra Sanghatana , Bombay or Maha – Keraleeyam had organized this grand meet at the Manav Seva Sangh Hall in King Circle. The event had 2 parts. The morning was for the celebration and the felicitation. The afternoon’s highlight was a Multilingual Seminar. Maha Keraleeyam, by the way, stands for Maharashtra Keraleeyam. So local MLA, Eknath Gaekwad was the VIP guest. Well he was bowled over when he heard himself
being welcomed in chaste Marathi by the Malayali hostess. Gaekwad was all praise for the Mumbai Malayalis who try to preserve not only the Malayali culture but are also thoughtful about furthering the cause of Maharashtrian culture.
Then it was a rain of roses for O.N.V , roses from various organizations and individuals….The flowers were followed by something even more amazing - a musical rendering of three of his poems, ‘ Pengal’, ‘ Sooryageetham’ and ‘ Amma Vilikkunnu’ by three Mumbai youngsters of the school-college age group… I shall be reverting to this beautiful experience later .
The most memorable part of the forenoon was , of course, O.N.V’s speech, his response to all the affection and adulation showered on him by Mumbai Malayalees. “Amidst all the difficulties and sorrows which beset all of us nearly always , there are certain moments when we feel that it is nice to be alive. This is one such moment for me. ”, he began thus, in typical style , establishing rapport with common humanity instantaneously and covered a lot of ground in a brief while. He spoke of his intimate connection with the city, the innumerable visits after that first visit to Mumbai in the company of P.B. Sreenivas & Devarajan in 1952 when they were received at the station by the Titans of the Indian People’s Theatre Association , K.A.Abbas & Balraj Sahni.
He touched upon the current crazes and curses. Jeremiah-like, he cautioned us, his people against the false gods of big money and material wealth , against the arrogance of tall towers and big structures which belittle the human being. He had an answer , a concrete answer to the age old question – (as old as Plato !) : Of what use is poetry ?. English poets Sir Philip Sidney and P.B. Shelley had answered this question in their own ways.
O.N.V.’s answer is “ Go and see the Silent Valley National Park. That is the monument to the power of poetry.” The voices of a handful of poets like
Sugatha Kumari, Ayyappa Panicker, Kadamanitta and O.N.V . were heard and listened to in Delhi and this treasure house of nature was saved.
Time flew as we sat enjoying the poetic meal for the soul. Soon it was time for the sadya for the stomach. And it was, indeed, a lavish feast !
Published in City journal on 4th April, 2011
A Day With O.N.V.
[ Part I ]
By Lakshmi Padmanabhan
The 27th of March , 2011. It was a Sunday with a difference for an incredible
number of Mumbai Mallus like me when they got the opportunity to spend the whole day with Jnananpeeth awardee, PadmaVibhushan ,Ottaplakkal /plavil Nambiadikkal Neelakandan Velu Kurup. I ferreted out this full name of our beloved poet from the Net. Mea culpa ! Strange that I didn’t know it before nor felt the need to know , considering that O.N.V. has been so much a part of my consciousness , growing up as I did to the echoing music of his KPAC songs & film lyrics .
Perhaps it isn’t so strange after all, as I had got to know them all mainly through oral tradition. ‘Ponnarivalambiliyilu kanneriyunnole …….’ is the earliest memory. My father would sing it and explain the metaphor not only for us in the family but also the workers on our land.
What I realize now is that all these heard melodies are only the tip of the iceberg. They are what make him a cult figure of popular culture, a poet of the masses. Those unheard or less heard ones , the more meaning-laden poems of oceanic depth & cosmic breadth which form the iceberg are what make him a true successor to his illustrious predecessors in Malayalam poetry. A poet of the classes, too,in other words, though he might not like this sort of differentiation of people into masses and classes.
The Keraleeya Kendra Sanghatana , Bombay or Maha – Keraleeyam had organized this grand meet at the Manav Seva Sangh Hall in King Circle. The event had 2 parts. The morning was for the celebration and the felicitation. The afternoon’s highlight was a Multilingual Seminar. Maha Keraleeyam, by the way, stands for Maharashtra Keraleeyam. So local MLA, Eknath Gaekwad was the VIP guest. Well he was bowled over when he heard himself
being welcomed in chaste Marathi by the Malayali hostess. Gaekwad was all praise for the Mumbai Malayalis who try to preserve not only the Malayali culture but are also thoughtful about furthering the cause of Maharashtrian culture.
Then it was a rain of roses for O.N.V , roses from various organizations and individuals….The flowers were followed by something even more amazing - a musical rendering of three of his poems, ‘ Pengal’, ‘ Sooryageetham’ and ‘ Amma Vilikkunnu’ by three Mumbai youngsters of the school-college age group… I shall be reverting to this beautiful experience later .
The most memorable part of the forenoon was , of course, O.N.V’s speech, his response to all the affection and adulation showered on him by Mumbai Malayalees. “Amidst all the difficulties and sorrows which beset all of us nearly always , there are certain moments when we feel that it is nice to be alive. This is one such moment for me. ”, he began thus, in typical style , establishing rapport with common humanity instantaneously and covered a lot of ground in a brief while. He spoke of his intimate connection with the city, the innumerable visits after that first visit to Mumbai in the company of P.B. Sreenivas & Devarajan in 1952 when they were received at the station by the Titans of the Indian People’s Theatre Association , K.A.Abbas & Balraj Sahni.
He touched upon the current crazes and curses. Jeremiah-like, he cautioned us, his people against the false gods of big money and material wealth , against the arrogance of tall towers and big structures which belittle the human being. He had an answer , a concrete answer to the age old question – (as old as Plato !) : Of what use is poetry ?. English poets Sir Philip Sidney and P.B. Shelley had answered this question in their own ways.
O.N.V.’s answer is “ Go and see the Silent Valley National Park. That is the monument to the power of poetry.” The voices of a handful of poets like
Sugatha Kumari, Ayyappa Panicker, Kadamanitta and O.N.V . were heard and listened to in Delhi and this treasure house of nature was saved.
Time flew as we sat enjoying the poetic meal for the soul. Soon it was time for the sadya for the stomach. And it was, indeed, a lavish feast !
---------------------------------------------------------------------
A Day With O.N.V.
[ Part I ]
By Lakshmi Padmanabhan
The 27th of March , 2011. It was a Sunday with a difference for an incredible
number of Mumbai Mallus like me when they got the opportunity to spend the whole day with Jnananpeeth awardee, PadmaVibhushan ,Ottaplakkal /plavil Nambiadikkal Neelakandan Velu Kurup. I ferreted out this full name of our beloved poet from the Net. Mea culpa ! Strange that I didn’t know it before nor felt the need to know , considering that O.N.V. has been so much a part of my consciousness , growing up as I did to the echoing music of his KPAC songs & film lyrics .
Perhaps it isn’t so strange after all, as I had got to know them all mainly through oral tradition. ‘Ponnarivalambiliyilu kanneriyunnole …….’ is the earliest memory. My father would sing it and explain the metaphor not only for us in the family but also the workers on our land.
What I realize now is that all these heard melodies are only the tip of the iceberg. They are what make him a cult figure of popular culture, a poet of the masses. Those unheard or less heard ones , the more meaning-laden poems of oceanic depth & cosmic breadth which form the iceberg are what make him a true successor to his illustrious predecessors in Malayalam poetry. A poet of the classes, too,in other words, though he might not like this sort of differentiation of people into masses and classes.
The Keraleeya Kendra Sanghatana , Bombay or Maha – Keraleeyam had organized this grand meet at the Manav Seva Sangh Hall in King Circle. The event had 2 parts. The morning was for the celebration and the felicitation. The afternoon’s highlight was a Multilingual Seminar. Maha Keraleeyam, by the way, stands for Maharashtra Keraleeyam. So local MLA, Eknath Gaekwad was the VIP guest. Well he was bowled over when he heard himself
being welcomed in chaste Marathi by the Malayali hostess. Gaekwad was all praise for the Mumbai Malayalis who try to preserve not only the Malayali culture but are also thoughtful about furthering the cause of Maharashtrian culture.
Then it was a rain of roses for O.N.V , roses from various organizations and individuals….The flowers were followed by something even more amazing - a musical rendering of three of his poems, ‘ Pengal’, ‘ Sooryageetham’ and ‘ Amma Vilikkunnu’ by three Mumbai youngsters of the school-college age group… I shall be reverting to this beautiful experience later .
The most memorable part of the forenoon was , of course, O.N.V’s speech, his response to all the affection and adulation showered on him by Mumbai Malayalees. “Amidst all the difficulties and sorrows which beset all of us nearly always , there are certain moments when we feel that it is nice to be alive. This is one such moment for me. ”, he began thus, in typical style , establishing rapport with common humanity instantaneously and covered a lot of ground in a brief while. He spoke of his intimate connection with the city, the innumerable visits after that first visit to Mumbai in the company of P.B. Sreenivas & Devarajan in 1952 when they were received at the station by the Titans of the Indian People’s Theatre Association , K.A.Abbas & Balraj Sahni.
He touched upon the current crazes and curses. Jeremiah-like, he cautioned us, his people against the false gods of big money and material wealth , against the arrogance of tall towers and big structures which belittle the human being. He had an answer , a concrete answer to the age old question – (as old as Plato !) : Of what use is poetry ?. English poets Sir Philip Sidney and P.B. Shelley had answered this question in their own ways.
O.N.V.’s answer is “ Go and see the Silent Valley National Park. That is the monument to the power of poetry.” The voices of a handful of poets like
Sugatha Kumari, Ayyappa Panicker, Kadamanitta and O.N.V . were heard and listened to in Delhi and this treasure house of nature was saved.
Time flew as we sat enjoying the poetic meal for the soul. Soon it was time for the sadya for the stomach. And it was, indeed, a lavish feast !
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday, March 28, 2011
Christian Brothers , Indeed !
The title triggered great expectations of Innichan style humour , ‘Kanjirappallikkaran Christiani’variety of dialogue or at least a large joint family of achayans with an old world ammachi replete with kavuni & kunukku. So , we ,the couple took time off one Saturday evening and landed at Arora Theatre ,one of the last surviving old world cinemas in Mumbai , at King circle, Matunga where Malayalis watch Malayalam movies. Good we came here and not to one of the multiplexes which were also showing ‘ Christian Brothers’ . One look at the poster with Mohanlal holding a gun and Vijayaraghavan scowling fore told the whole story. ‘Abandon all hope , ye who enter here ’ I remembered this famous line written on the Gates of Hell in the great 14th century Italian poet Dante’s magnificent poem, ‘The Divine Comedy ’. No point in going back after making the journey and buying the tickets for Rs.200. So we entered the hall , hoping against hope !
And discovered that it is another gangster-police- minister-mafia –mahila tangle with the routine paraphernalia of Malayali muscles & brains trained in Mumbai’s underworld imported to Cochin/kerala to sort out the tangle there.The Mumbai- Cochin underworld link has become a staple of our films. Even writer Salman Rushdie could not resist its allure.
Christian Brothers has an impressive star cast . But it doesn’t have either a riveting plot or even a single memorable character. Frankly, I have forgotten the names of the characters already. I recall a few strands of the plot. They are : Strand 1. The conflict over a beautiful bit of unused church property in Munnar between the land mafia , the Thampi family headed by Vijayaraghavan and the Christian Brothers/ family headed by Sai Kumar. Big relief for Sai . Of late , he has been granted Moksha & allowed to be a
good man on screen. Strand 2. The feud between Christie – Mohanlal, Christian Brother 1 and his brother-in-law , Suresh Krishna who is a pimp in Mumbai using even his own wife ( Christi’s sister, the beautiful Lakshmi Gopalaswami ) in his trade. Strand 3. The kidnapping of the Home Minister’s( Devan’s i.e) daughter , Meenakshi - Kavya whose main jobs are a) deflecting Dileep from his pursuit of the Holy orders b) inadvertently making him commit homicide & c) helping the convergence of characters and plots by being kidnapped . Another detail connected to the kidnapping is the Home Minister taking money from Thampi Senior to get the daughter released. Strand 4. Christie’s efforts on behalf of his younger brother, at proving his innocence to his Appachi , at generally throwing his weight behind everyone who needs it.
Now to the other villains and heroes. Biju Menon, a Thampi son is the bad police officer. Jagathi Sreekumar , a Christian brother – more uncle than brother, methinks -is the honest village officer who refuses to destroy the documents on Thampi’s orders .My hopes rose as JS’s face lit the scene but were put out immediately as the poor guy was shot dead soon after he had passed on the documents to Sai K for safe keeping . To offset the bad Christian brother-in-law ( Suresh Krishna) there is Suresh Gopi alias Vadakkan, the good Christian brother-in-law & honest police officer. There is one more Christian brother , adopted from Mumbai – karim Lala aka Andrews , Sarath Kumar ( Kunkan of Pazhassi Raja) being the flavour of the season.
In all this macho, dishum-dishum desert , there are oases, some sweet moments. There is that wonderful Kaithapuram – Deepak dev song sequence where all the mohinis come and their beaus too shine. The cats drink milk . There is the subtle , underplayed romance acted out quite befittingly by the perky, pouting Kaniha and the Gentle giant , Suresh Gopi. Flashes of humour from Dileep and Venjaranmood . As for Mohanlal, all my sympathies. 1/1000 th of him is not required for the role of Christie. But you watch it only because he is playing it. My dear Mallu directors, for heaven’s sake , don’t insult this Thampuran by making him a mere gun-totter & muscleman. Don’t trap him in a repetitive rut ! Don’t rob him of his rhythm, his music, his Mohini !
From the perennial classics , socially relevant , avant- garde triumphs and sheer rib-tickling entertainers ( Thulabharam, Chemmeen, Swayamvaram, Yakshi, all the 80’s& 90s movies,Devasuram, Dasaradham , kamaladalm, Bharatham, Aaram thampuran et al of the iconic Mohanlal, Desadanam, Chintavishtayaya Shyamala and just a few of the recent hits , one Classmates, one Veruthe oru Bharya , one Udayanaanu Tharam, to name a few of a humongous list of greats ) to Christian Brothers , Malayalam cinema’s descent into banality is tragic.
Published in City Journal, March 28, 2011
And discovered that it is another gangster-police- minister-mafia –mahila tangle with the routine paraphernalia of Malayali muscles & brains trained in Mumbai’s underworld imported to Cochin/kerala to sort out the tangle there.The Mumbai- Cochin underworld link has become a staple of our films. Even writer Salman Rushdie could not resist its allure.
Christian Brothers has an impressive star cast . But it doesn’t have either a riveting plot or even a single memorable character. Frankly, I have forgotten the names of the characters already. I recall a few strands of the plot. They are : Strand 1. The conflict over a beautiful bit of unused church property in Munnar between the land mafia , the Thampi family headed by Vijayaraghavan and the Christian Brothers/ family headed by Sai Kumar. Big relief for Sai . Of late , he has been granted Moksha & allowed to be a
good man on screen. Strand 2. The feud between Christie – Mohanlal, Christian Brother 1 and his brother-in-law , Suresh Krishna who is a pimp in Mumbai using even his own wife ( Christi’s sister, the beautiful Lakshmi Gopalaswami ) in his trade. Strand 3. The kidnapping of the Home Minister’s( Devan’s i.e) daughter , Meenakshi - Kavya whose main jobs are a) deflecting Dileep from his pursuit of the Holy orders b) inadvertently making him commit homicide & c) helping the convergence of characters and plots by being kidnapped . Another detail connected to the kidnapping is the Home Minister taking money from Thampi Senior to get the daughter released. Strand 4. Christie’s efforts on behalf of his younger brother, at proving his innocence to his Appachi , at generally throwing his weight behind everyone who needs it.
Now to the other villains and heroes. Biju Menon, a Thampi son is the bad police officer. Jagathi Sreekumar , a Christian brother – more uncle than brother, methinks -is the honest village officer who refuses to destroy the documents on Thampi’s orders .My hopes rose as JS’s face lit the scene but were put out immediately as the poor guy was shot dead soon after he had passed on the documents to Sai K for safe keeping . To offset the bad Christian brother-in-law ( Suresh Krishna) there is Suresh Gopi alias Vadakkan, the good Christian brother-in-law & honest police officer. There is one more Christian brother , adopted from Mumbai – karim Lala aka Andrews , Sarath Kumar ( Kunkan of Pazhassi Raja) being the flavour of the season.
In all this macho, dishum-dishum desert , there are oases, some sweet moments. There is that wonderful Kaithapuram – Deepak dev song sequence where all the mohinis come and their beaus too shine. The cats drink milk . There is the subtle , underplayed romance acted out quite befittingly by the perky, pouting Kaniha and the Gentle giant , Suresh Gopi. Flashes of humour from Dileep and Venjaranmood . As for Mohanlal, all my sympathies. 1/1000 th of him is not required for the role of Christie. But you watch it only because he is playing it. My dear Mallu directors, for heaven’s sake , don’t insult this Thampuran by making him a mere gun-totter & muscleman. Don’t trap him in a repetitive rut ! Don’t rob him of his rhythm, his music, his Mohini !
From the perennial classics , socially relevant , avant- garde triumphs and sheer rib-tickling entertainers ( Thulabharam, Chemmeen, Swayamvaram, Yakshi, all the 80’s& 90s movies,Devasuram, Dasaradham , kamaladalm, Bharatham, Aaram thampuran et al of the iconic Mohanlal, Desadanam, Chintavishtayaya Shyamala and just a few of the recent hits , one Classmates, one Veruthe oru Bharya , one Udayanaanu Tharam, to name a few of a humongous list of greats ) to Christian Brothers , Malayalam cinema’s descent into banality is tragic.
Published in City Journal, March 28, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Caesar's wife & other Roman stories ( Published in City Journal ,March 14,2011
Caesar’s Wife & Other Roman Stories
By Lakshmi Padmanabhan.
Prime Minister Manmohan Singh has resurrected Caesar’s wife , a woman who lived, married , had her being and lost her being a few decades before the Birth of Christ. He has unleashed her into the consciousness of his unsuspecting and suspecting countrymen and women. The countrywomen have more cause for concern though the PM is positioning himself in the place of Caesar’s wife and not of Caesar himself. His illustrious but distant predecessor , Jawaharlalji had done that. In a beautiful piece of writing the great Nehru gave vent to dark doubts about his own dormant dictatorial dreams. Plainly he was asking himself whether he wanted to be Caesar ! The name of Caesar is now synonymous with political ambition of the despotic kind.
This is not the first time that the PM has quoted Julius Caesar. I have it on the authority of Arun Jaitley’s article in The Times Of India( March 5,2011) that when P.V Narasinha Rao was removed from the party presidency after losing the 1996 elections , MMS, who was FinMin under him had publicly commented : “ Caesar’s wife must be above suspicion.”
It is amazing to see the continuing connection of Roman history with current Indian politics. Julius Caesar , Roman general ( 100 BC – 44 BC) conquered many lands including Britain & France. But he had not come to India. So how come Indian politicians hark back to him and his wife ? It is , I feel, entirely because of Will – William Shakespeare and the English language and its idioms that came with the Empire. Shakespeare’s ‘Julius Caesar’ used to be a staple in the English curriculum . But the Caesar’s wife in that play is /was not the Caesar’s wife in the idiom.
Lemme clear the cobweb around Caesar’s wives. Julius Caesar had 3 wives. Biwi No.1 was Cornelia who died in childbirth. The child Julia
survived. No.2 was Pompeia Sulla and No.3 was Calphurnia who got all those bad dreams about her husband’s end .
Pompeia Sulla whom Caesar married for political reasons is the character who inadvertently led to the famous pronouncement by Caesar- Caesar’s wife must be above board . Pompeia hosted the Feast of the Good Goddess which was meant strictly for women. But a notorious profligate called Clodius allegedly disguised himself as a woman and seduced Pompeia. He was prosecuted . But during the trial Caesar did not give evidence against Clodius, though several members of his family did.. Clodius was aquitted. Caesar divorced Pompeia. When the court asked him why he had demanded a divorce when so much uncertainty surrounded the incident, Caesar replied : “Caesar’s wife must be above suspicion.”
Our own mythology has a parallel story. A washerman cast aspersions on Seetha Devi’s chastity and the King of Ayodhya, Sree Ramachandra bade goodbye to his beloved. These famous incidents highlight the dilemmas of leaders , of men ( now, women, too ) in public life. Hard choices between reality and perception , between personal happiness and public probity/ acceptance /fame , between woman , defeat/failure on the one side & war , victory and empire /power on the other.
Another equally famous Roman, Caesar’s protégé was quite unCaesar like in his hour of trial. Mark Antony lost an empire for Cleopatra. And happy to lose it , too. Again, Shakespeare had made the romance so memorable for us. We have our own Mark , mutatis mutandis ( with necessary changes, modifications i.e. ) in a Malu , our incorruptible MP from TVM, the incorrigible romantic, the absolutely adorable Shashi Tharoor.
“ The charm of history and its enigmatic lesson ,” wrote Aldous Huxley,
“ consist in the fact that from age to age nothing changes and yet , everything is completely different.” Everything in 21st century A.D. India is vastly different from everything in Rome in the 1st century B.C Yet everything is the same, too.
-------------
By Lakshmi Padmanabhan.
Prime Minister Manmohan Singh has resurrected Caesar’s wife , a woman who lived, married , had her being and lost her being a few decades before the Birth of Christ. He has unleashed her into the consciousness of his unsuspecting and suspecting countrymen and women. The countrywomen have more cause for concern though the PM is positioning himself in the place of Caesar’s wife and not of Caesar himself. His illustrious but distant predecessor , Jawaharlalji had done that. In a beautiful piece of writing the great Nehru gave vent to dark doubts about his own dormant dictatorial dreams. Plainly he was asking himself whether he wanted to be Caesar ! The name of Caesar is now synonymous with political ambition of the despotic kind.
This is not the first time that the PM has quoted Julius Caesar. I have it on the authority of Arun Jaitley’s article in The Times Of India( March 5,2011) that when P.V Narasinha Rao was removed from the party presidency after losing the 1996 elections , MMS, who was FinMin under him had publicly commented : “ Caesar’s wife must be above suspicion.”
It is amazing to see the continuing connection of Roman history with current Indian politics. Julius Caesar , Roman general ( 100 BC – 44 BC) conquered many lands including Britain & France. But he had not come to India. So how come Indian politicians hark back to him and his wife ? It is , I feel, entirely because of Will – William Shakespeare and the English language and its idioms that came with the Empire. Shakespeare’s ‘Julius Caesar’ used to be a staple in the English curriculum . But the Caesar’s wife in that play is /was not the Caesar’s wife in the idiom.
Lemme clear the cobweb around Caesar’s wives. Julius Caesar had 3 wives. Biwi No.1 was Cornelia who died in childbirth. The child Julia
survived. No.2 was Pompeia Sulla and No.3 was Calphurnia who got all those bad dreams about her husband’s end .
Pompeia Sulla whom Caesar married for political reasons is the character who inadvertently led to the famous pronouncement by Caesar- Caesar’s wife must be above board . Pompeia hosted the Feast of the Good Goddess which was meant strictly for women. But a notorious profligate called Clodius allegedly disguised himself as a woman and seduced Pompeia. He was prosecuted . But during the trial Caesar did not give evidence against Clodius, though several members of his family did.. Clodius was aquitted. Caesar divorced Pompeia. When the court asked him why he had demanded a divorce when so much uncertainty surrounded the incident, Caesar replied : “Caesar’s wife must be above suspicion.”
Our own mythology has a parallel story. A washerman cast aspersions on Seetha Devi’s chastity and the King of Ayodhya, Sree Ramachandra bade goodbye to his beloved. These famous incidents highlight the dilemmas of leaders , of men ( now, women, too ) in public life. Hard choices between reality and perception , between personal happiness and public probity/ acceptance /fame , between woman , defeat/failure on the one side & war , victory and empire /power on the other.
Another equally famous Roman, Caesar’s protégé was quite unCaesar like in his hour of trial. Mark Antony lost an empire for Cleopatra. And happy to lose it , too. Again, Shakespeare had made the romance so memorable for us. We have our own Mark , mutatis mutandis ( with necessary changes, modifications i.e. ) in a Malu , our incorruptible MP from TVM, the incorrigible romantic, the absolutely adorable Shashi Tharoor.
“ The charm of history and its enigmatic lesson ,” wrote Aldous Huxley,
“ consist in the fact that from age to age nothing changes and yet , everything is completely different.” Everything in 21st century A.D. India is vastly different from everything in Rome in the 1st century B.C Yet everything is the same, too.
-------------
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Corporate Wives
Every Friday changes your life. Not my observation, this. I am just quoting Bobby Deol , son of his father , the great Dharmendra. Bobby uttered the oracular words after the success of ‘ Yamla, Pagla, Deevana’. Haven’t seen the movie despite being surrounded by multiplexes screening Hindi films. That is not the point. The point is about Friday. Is Friday as life-changing to everyone as it is to the fillum folk ? Not really. Last Friday , 25th of Feb 2011, for instance, did not change my life.
But it did bring me face to face with the current profile of the educated, female workforce in Mumbai and their corporate credentials. The magic word is ‘corporate’. Globalization has endowed it with a halo and I had a close encounter with it at the Women Leadership Summit organized by Siliconindia . I have already mentioned the day and the date. The lead speakers , the panelists were women entrepreneurs ,CEOs of their own companies or women in management positions of new age corporates like Wipro,or of older giants like Bharat Petroleum. All properly suited and booted except for the Malus and Bengus who chose to be in the Indian corporate formal, the silk saree. The Malu, I must mention , was Gita Ramachandran of Bharat Petroleum, a senior artist in the work-life balancing act who gave the most commonsensical tips to meet the dilemmas to the younger delegates. The delegates , too were mostly from the corporate world. I was , perhaps the only one from academia, a profession next in ancientness only to the oldest, I suppose. Felt the difference and the isolation very acutely indeed.
The summit was a sharing of the various challenges and risks faced by the species of women I choose to call ‘corporate wives.
‘Corporate Wives’ can be any of the 4 classes of women. ‘Wife’ was not wife always. ‘Wife’ meant only woman in the early days of the language. So corporate wives are corporate women, i.e women working in or for corporates. Some of these corporate women are also wives in the modern sense,with husbands , children ,mother-in-law et al. Then there are the stay at home wives/marital partners of men who work in corporates. and the last category are corporate wives of corporate husbands. Together they may be called corporate couples. The last 2 categories were not represented at the meet.
The problems aired were not basically different from those faced by women working outside the home in general. Only they are more compounded these days by the nature of the new jobs that have come into being . Glass ceilings are being broken. Women are in key positions. With the coming of MNCs women are on the move and required to be away from the home for longer periods than before. They sometimes spend more time with male colleagues or bosses than with their husbands or families. The corporate wife’s most trusted advisor or mentor cannot be the husband always. She might tend to remember the TA’s birthday more than the husband’s ! All these create stresses and strains. One delegate touched upon a most delicate point, that of how ‘ Not tonight , darling’ is not taken well or sympathized with by the husband.
Families in India are so used to taking the woman’s services of all kinds for granted that they cannot stand any rocking of the boat. Parents, parents –in-law , husbands and children need to become aware of the new demands on the mental, emotional and physical resources of the woman professionals and learn to respect them. It was sad that Women Leadership Summit was attended only by women. A few male delegates, corporate or otherwise, could have made the Friday far more exciting and fruitful.
But it did bring me face to face with the current profile of the educated, female workforce in Mumbai and their corporate credentials. The magic word is ‘corporate’. Globalization has endowed it with a halo and I had a close encounter with it at the Women Leadership Summit organized by Siliconindia . I have already mentioned the day and the date. The lead speakers , the panelists were women entrepreneurs ,CEOs of their own companies or women in management positions of new age corporates like Wipro,or of older giants like Bharat Petroleum. All properly suited and booted except for the Malus and Bengus who chose to be in the Indian corporate formal, the silk saree. The Malu, I must mention , was Gita Ramachandran of Bharat Petroleum, a senior artist in the work-life balancing act who gave the most commonsensical tips to meet the dilemmas to the younger delegates. The delegates , too were mostly from the corporate world. I was , perhaps the only one from academia, a profession next in ancientness only to the oldest, I suppose. Felt the difference and the isolation very acutely indeed.
The summit was a sharing of the various challenges and risks faced by the species of women I choose to call ‘corporate wives.
‘Corporate Wives’ can be any of the 4 classes of women. ‘Wife’ was not wife always. ‘Wife’ meant only woman in the early days of the language. So corporate wives are corporate women, i.e women working in or for corporates. Some of these corporate women are also wives in the modern sense,with husbands , children ,mother-in-law et al. Then there are the stay at home wives/marital partners of men who work in corporates. and the last category are corporate wives of corporate husbands. Together they may be called corporate couples. The last 2 categories were not represented at the meet.
The problems aired were not basically different from those faced by women working outside the home in general. Only they are more compounded these days by the nature of the new jobs that have come into being . Glass ceilings are being broken. Women are in key positions. With the coming of MNCs women are on the move and required to be away from the home for longer periods than before. They sometimes spend more time with male colleagues or bosses than with their husbands or families. The corporate wife’s most trusted advisor or mentor cannot be the husband always. She might tend to remember the TA’s birthday more than the husband’s ! All these create stresses and strains. One delegate touched upon a most delicate point, that of how ‘ Not tonight , darling’ is not taken well or sympathized with by the husband.
Families in India are so used to taking the woman’s services of all kinds for granted that they cannot stand any rocking of the boat. Parents, parents –in-law , husbands and children need to become aware of the new demands on the mental, emotional and physical resources of the woman professionals and learn to respect them. It was sad that Women Leadership Summit was attended only by women. A few male delegates, corporate or otherwise, could have made the Friday far more exciting and fruitful.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Occasionally Yours ........
I am extremely grateful to certain adjectives and adverbs in the English language. They help me to describe myself and others who are made of truly indescribable fluff. Last week while I was waiting for Godot at the Coimbatore airport I looked around and saw that my fellow passengers were taking a 5 hour delay without much of a sense of disquiet . I found myself fidgeting despite a deep dip into an engrossing novel named ‘ Fools Die’ authored by the father of ‘ The Godfather’ , Maria Puzo himself. The occasional nature of my air travel explained my lack of composure. It was equally a lack of exposure, gawar that I am,long years of urbanization notwithstanding, upcountry as sophisticated folks might call me. . The moment this thought and the word ‘occasional’ flashed across my mind’s screen( mind’s eye , inward eye etc. are discarded as they don’t reflect the current times when everything is on the screen and the screen is everything ) I was at peace…and l could settle down to devouring more of the Puzo !
Parts of speech can be played around with, these days, thanks to liberalization of rules everywhere. Hence my coinage‘Occasionals’.Occasionals are a recognized category. In most fields there are occasionals floating around , unbound by rigours , deadlines and expectations. Even well- established writers seek the safety of the ‘occasional’ tag. The particular well-established writer who is on my mind is Kiran Nagarkar who writes brilliantly both in Marathi and English. I haven’t read his Marathi, I must confess. Read his English ‘ Cuckold’ and you will see my point. ‘Occasional’ stalls questions from interviewing pests and their “ when is your next novel coming / are you at work on something ”sort of querries. It is a sort of anticipatory bail. It allows you to operate at your own pace. I wonder whether Arundhati Roy would accept the ‘occasional ’title. More a semi - retired novelist but a regular activist and spokeswoman, daring the arch devil himself. In CVs you find the sobriquet ‘ Occasional contributor to journals and magazines’ which is a euphemism for a defunct scribbler, a plain ex- , one who had written, used to write and so on.
Occasionalism ( of this mundane kind, not the philosophical one) is rampant in the arts and entertainment arena, occasional painters, singers, composers, lyricists,actors, one-film wonders. Could be doing something else to make a living. There in is the rub. The freedom is fine. But where will the food come from ? The old aristocrats who didn’t have to work for a living could afford the luxury of the dabbler enjoying brief flirtations with the fashionable arts. Remember the character in the movie, Nakhakshathangal , so brilliantly essayed by Jayettan ( Occasional actor !) in his heyday as a singer ?
Occasional smokers and drinkers are a different story. If only they remained occasional S’s and D’s ! Nearly always there is progress / regress in their status. It doesn’t take much time for them to be regulars. Chain smoking and alcoholism are just a few steps away. Progress in negative habits comes effortlessly. You don’t have to work at them. Getting established in positive activity is a steep climb.
The personal sphere , so far, has shied away from accommodating occasionalism at least in our part of the world. But if more and more marriages become telegamous ( long distance) and parents and children live apart, families distributed all over the world and so on you cant be too sure. Definitions could change. With a slight expansion or elaboration in meaning, you could be an occasional husband , wife, daughter, son, dad, mom, dad-in-law, mom-in-law…….
Parts of speech can be played around with, these days, thanks to liberalization of rules everywhere. Hence my coinage‘Occasionals’.Occasionals are a recognized category. In most fields there are occasionals floating around , unbound by rigours , deadlines and expectations. Even well- established writers seek the safety of the ‘occasional’ tag. The particular well-established writer who is on my mind is Kiran Nagarkar who writes brilliantly both in Marathi and English. I haven’t read his Marathi, I must confess. Read his English ‘ Cuckold’ and you will see my point. ‘Occasional’ stalls questions from interviewing pests and their “ when is your next novel coming / are you at work on something ”sort of querries. It is a sort of anticipatory bail. It allows you to operate at your own pace. I wonder whether Arundhati Roy would accept the ‘occasional ’title. More a semi - retired novelist but a regular activist and spokeswoman, daring the arch devil himself. In CVs you find the sobriquet ‘ Occasional contributor to journals and magazines’ which is a euphemism for a defunct scribbler, a plain ex- , one who had written, used to write and so on.
Occasionalism ( of this mundane kind, not the philosophical one) is rampant in the arts and entertainment arena, occasional painters, singers, composers, lyricists,actors, one-film wonders. Could be doing something else to make a living. There in is the rub. The freedom is fine. But where will the food come from ? The old aristocrats who didn’t have to work for a living could afford the luxury of the dabbler enjoying brief flirtations with the fashionable arts. Remember the character in the movie, Nakhakshathangal , so brilliantly essayed by Jayettan ( Occasional actor !) in his heyday as a singer ?
Occasional smokers and drinkers are a different story. If only they remained occasional S’s and D’s ! Nearly always there is progress / regress in their status. It doesn’t take much time for them to be regulars. Chain smoking and alcoholism are just a few steps away. Progress in negative habits comes effortlessly. You don’t have to work at them. Getting established in positive activity is a steep climb.
The personal sphere , so far, has shied away from accommodating occasionalism at least in our part of the world. But if more and more marriages become telegamous ( long distance) and parents and children live apart, families distributed all over the world and so on you cant be too sure. Definitions could change. With a slight expansion or elaboration in meaning, you could be an occasional husband , wife, daughter, son, dad, mom, dad-in-law, mom-in-law…….
Don’t Wash !
To wash or not to wash is not as overwhelming a question as ‘ To be or not to
be ’. But it is one of the great existential dilemmas for the votaries of the Sloth Goddess who would like to burn incense at her altar had they been a little less slothful. Washing , as you all know, is classifiable into a) washing of the self b) washing of other individuals far older or far younger to you, sometimes your age or slightly older but more slothful than you c) washing of possessions & utilities like your clothes , your car, your vessels and d) certain washings of the clinical/pathological /technical kind about which I cant say much. As far as the layperson that I am, is concerned, each one of the first three is enough of a botheration to say the least. Each , by itself or in combination with one of the other or both can destroy joie de vivre which is French for ‘ joy of life .’
I have nothing against the hydromaniacs who wash and wash and wash and become godly through cleanliness. I admire them. But I can’t be like them. It may be due to a sort of hydrophobia, fear of water . Not, God forbid, the sort that is caused by the bite of rabid dogs. But just a horror of handing over , however temporarily, of the beloved body, one’s own, to one of the panchabhoothas, resembling somewhat the other fear of having to hand it over to another bhootha or element after the ghost is given up ! Giving kids or disabled elders a bath is however, not impacted by the phobia. I have done it out of the goodness of my heart and also out of the desire to earn Punya.
There are other more compelling reasons that I can urge against the daily bath habit( hairwash included…no Malu would acknowledge mere body wash as bath) of the squeaky clean.My environmental conscience is outraged by the thoughtless overexploitation of such a scarce natural resource as water. Besides lemme point out that washing is not the equivalent of keeping yourself clean, not any more.. We must learn to look upon the water of the 21st century with suspicion. Kaliyug’s Ganga , Pampa & Kaveri are all ‘myly’and can wash away neither your dirt nor your sins.
Washing clothes & vessels falls under the category of necessary evils. I have never had to wash cars which is the big positive about not owning them. Prime Minister Manmohan Singh had washed vessels when he was in the U.K with his wife in their youth. Mrs. Singh herself had said so somewhere. George Fernandes had washed his own clothes until he fell a victim to Alzheimers. The fact that even the big folks are not spared the irksome chores helps me check my own tears when I am obliged to bend over vessels and bear their clang-clang and refusal to shine with my scrubbing. As for clothes , I have my own style of handling them. I don’t injure them with too much aquatic contact. But attachment to stiff and starched clothes has been my Achilles heel . How I wish the great Greek hero, I mean Achilles whose heel alone was weak, were reborn as my neighbourhood washerman ! My utopian wishes are endless …Clothes requiring no washing, dishes who will look after themselves, Chitty like attendants who give you a perfect wash , without your having to stir… . The first of these, dirt resistant & stink resistant clothes will soon be a reality according to one report. My eyes are ever alert to such reports. My prayer is : May the ultimate solution be found to the physical and psychological problems connected with washing.
Washing is an inexhaustible topic. A whole book is required to cover the past, present and future of washing in various parts of the world. In fact , such a book is already there . It is written by a writer amed Katherine Ashenburg titled , ‘The Dirt in Clean : An Unsanitized History Of Washing.’ A priceless nugget from it I would like to share with my dear readers. Napoleon Bonaparte and his wife Josephine lived at a time /phase when the typical, aristocratic Frenchman changed his linen shirt daily, dabbled his hand in water but never touched his body with soap or water. NB & J were an exception to this . They took a long hot bath daily. Despite this meticulous pursuit of cleanliness , the great Bonaparte wrote to wife Josephine from a campaign : “ I will return to Paris tomorrow evening. Don’t wash.” Emphasis mine.
be ’. But it is one of the great existential dilemmas for the votaries of the Sloth Goddess who would like to burn incense at her altar had they been a little less slothful. Washing , as you all know, is classifiable into a) washing of the self b) washing of other individuals far older or far younger to you, sometimes your age or slightly older but more slothful than you c) washing of possessions & utilities like your clothes , your car, your vessels and d) certain washings of the clinical/pathological /technical kind about which I cant say much. As far as the layperson that I am, is concerned, each one of the first three is enough of a botheration to say the least. Each , by itself or in combination with one of the other or both can destroy joie de vivre which is French for ‘ joy of life .’
I have nothing against the hydromaniacs who wash and wash and wash and become godly through cleanliness. I admire them. But I can’t be like them. It may be due to a sort of hydrophobia, fear of water . Not, God forbid, the sort that is caused by the bite of rabid dogs. But just a horror of handing over , however temporarily, of the beloved body, one’s own, to one of the panchabhoothas, resembling somewhat the other fear of having to hand it over to another bhootha or element after the ghost is given up ! Giving kids or disabled elders a bath is however, not impacted by the phobia. I have done it out of the goodness of my heart and also out of the desire to earn Punya.
There are other more compelling reasons that I can urge against the daily bath habit( hairwash included…no Malu would acknowledge mere body wash as bath) of the squeaky clean.My environmental conscience is outraged by the thoughtless overexploitation of such a scarce natural resource as water. Besides lemme point out that washing is not the equivalent of keeping yourself clean, not any more.. We must learn to look upon the water of the 21st century with suspicion. Kaliyug’s Ganga , Pampa & Kaveri are all ‘myly’and can wash away neither your dirt nor your sins.
Washing clothes & vessels falls under the category of necessary evils. I have never had to wash cars which is the big positive about not owning them. Prime Minister Manmohan Singh had washed vessels when he was in the U.K with his wife in their youth. Mrs. Singh herself had said so somewhere. George Fernandes had washed his own clothes until he fell a victim to Alzheimers. The fact that even the big folks are not spared the irksome chores helps me check my own tears when I am obliged to bend over vessels and bear their clang-clang and refusal to shine with my scrubbing. As for clothes , I have my own style of handling them. I don’t injure them with too much aquatic contact. But attachment to stiff and starched clothes has been my Achilles heel . How I wish the great Greek hero, I mean Achilles whose heel alone was weak, were reborn as my neighbourhood washerman ! My utopian wishes are endless …Clothes requiring no washing, dishes who will look after themselves, Chitty like attendants who give you a perfect wash , without your having to stir… . The first of these, dirt resistant & stink resistant clothes will soon be a reality according to one report. My eyes are ever alert to such reports. My prayer is : May the ultimate solution be found to the physical and psychological problems connected with washing.
Washing is an inexhaustible topic. A whole book is required to cover the past, present and future of washing in various parts of the world. In fact , such a book is already there . It is written by a writer amed Katherine Ashenburg titled , ‘The Dirt in Clean : An Unsanitized History Of Washing.’ A priceless nugget from it I would like to share with my dear readers. Napoleon Bonaparte and his wife Josephine lived at a time /phase when the typical, aristocratic Frenchman changed his linen shirt daily, dabbled his hand in water but never touched his body with soap or water. NB & J were an exception to this . They took a long hot bath daily. Despite this meticulous pursuit of cleanliness , the great Bonaparte wrote to wife Josephine from a campaign : “ I will return to Paris tomorrow evening. Don’t wash.” Emphasis mine.
Left - Right Reflections
Left- Right , Left- Right , Left- Right …..the mantra echoes in my mind of a long-ago march in white salwar kameez in a parade on an Independence Day or Republic Day at Fort Maidan , Palghat ( Palakkatte Kottamaidanam for the plain, unvarnished Malu– I would like to add ‘ unwashed,’too, for, contrary to widely held belief, many Malus don’t wash , or do so only once in a blue moon -) as part of my brief association with the NCC unit of Govt. Victoria College, Palghat. A highly elastic and extended teacher of English from the dawn of time, I peddle in words, meanings ,origins of words, synonyms and antonyms. As such I find the terms left and right very fascinating , full of history & potential, elastic and extensible. So here I go into their histories , mysteries , their extensions & elasticities
Right from its very origins the words indicating left have been under a cloud. The Old English word for left was ‘winstra’ meaning euphemistically ‘more friendly.’ To call the left more friendly was an attempt to propitiate the evil forces residing in the left hand side of the body. Latin, ever the boon and the bane as well, to English looms menacingly over the left side . The word in the mother of all European languages is ‘sinister’. The opposite is ‘dexter’, a word with all the most desirable associations. Call a person dexterous . He/she will bless you. Anglo-Saxon ( Old English resembling apna Sanskrit in many ways was the language of Britain in the Dark Ages ) had the word, ‘ lyft’, a close look-alike but again with the meaning ‘weak’ or ‘foolish’. It was only in the 13the century did it get its rightful place as the partner of left.
And it has been a very unequal partnership. Evil intentions lurk behind making Right the antonym of Left . As Right has another antonym, ‘Wrong’, syllogistically left becomes wrong ! But ‘Left is Right’ is the slogan of at least two schools of thought, two groups of warriors who have emerged as powerful defenders of everything ‘sinister’! One school is of the lefties, the southpaws or sinistrals as they are called…I wish I could say ‘we’ instead of ‘they’ for reasons that will be made obvious in the course of this paragraph itself. The charge of the southpaw brigade is led by American author and celebrity lefty, Rae Lindsay( the same dame with interesting titles like ‘ How to be a Perfect Bitch’ to her credit). Her iconic book, ‘ Left is Right : The Survival guide for Living Lefty in a Right Handed World ’ reveals how to be left-handed is much more than just right .It is greater than great as some of the greatest of the past from Biblical times to the living present – from David of the David and Goliath story of the Bible , Alexander , the Great, Michael Angelo, Leonardo da Vinci to the two Bills ( Clinton and Gates) ) and Oprah were/are southpaws. To the list we can add our own Shah en Shah of the acting world, Amitabh Bachan and sundry other well-known and less known individuals of your neighbourhood.
The declaration of war against right majoritarianism is long overdue. Lefties have been victims of prejudices and superstitions , leave alone the practical problems of handling the scissors, latches, doors , tools and machines of the righthanded world. It has been a world of the righthanded, for the righthanded and by the righthanded. The right hand has enjoyed a privileged position always, in nearly all cultures. Give or take with the right hand is the accepted behaviour. The lefty is obliged to artificially comply, against her/his grain. Many idiomatic expressions mirror the belief system of the right-handed 80 percent and insult the sensibilities of the sinistrals. No one likes a left-handed compliment, for instance. But that is the only compliment worth its name for the lefthanded person. ‘ Right hand man ’ is another hurting usage. The wife is ,vama or vamabhagam , the one whose position is on the husband’s left side , with insinuations of inferiority of both the position and the woman . Another matter, of course, if the husband is a lefty ! Or both are lefties !
Even in the right handed , the role of the left hand is unique. It does the dirty work sans demur. It plays its supportive role without any protest, shares all the work very co-operatively. But its services are not acknowledged in prose or verse. Work of the left hand ( daye hath ka khel ! in the sense of child’s play ) is how language dismisses &underplays the contribution of the left hand. Well, the lefties are out of the closet now , wearing the badge proudly and commading the admiration of the destrals.
The other worthies for whom Left is Right are the Leftist politicians. The origin of the use of the word for anything radical or revolutionary is more literal than ideological. All things revolutionary started with the French Revolution, not with Russia or China or even Karl Marx as some leftists might like to believe. In the National Assembly of France in 1789, the anti-monarchists sat on the left of the President and the Royalists sat to his right. The right wingers and left wingers came into being, were born in this flat , prosaic manner . No blaring of horns or beatings of trumpets . If the Left heard a Panchajanya, it was purely imaginary. But if I were to write the script of the story, I would definitely add it, because the transformative ideology that leftward thinking spawned deseve it. Lal Salaam ! In the same breath I must add that the transformation and the triumph of revolution were short-lived. The state did not wither away. It only became more authoritarian and Big Brother who symbolized the state, an out and out dictator. The communist experiment in governance only replaced one oppressive regime with another. The residue of the revolution has done workers of the free world, God’s Own Country, being the freest, a power of good. The power of collective bargaining is that residue. Shikshakaancha Ekjudice Vijayaaso !…..Teachers’ Unity zindabad !! I have shouted slogans along with my colleagues at Azad Maidan in Mumbai. Been part of boycotts, strikes, demonstrations called by unions often of the Left….sometimes of the Middle &, too. Somewhat like Lib Dem .
Which turn do I, should I take , right or left ? At strange crossroads in Mumbai or anywhere else I stand confused and often take the wrong turn , walk a little and return to take the right turn. But what I consider the wrong turn could have led me to a different , greater destination. You cant, of course , take all the turns. But when you walk forward it is always a march in response to the command Left- Right, Left- Right , Left- Right…..great moral there. Without Left there is no Right and without Right there is nothing Left.
Right from its very origins the words indicating left have been under a cloud. The Old English word for left was ‘winstra’ meaning euphemistically ‘more friendly.’ To call the left more friendly was an attempt to propitiate the evil forces residing in the left hand side of the body. Latin, ever the boon and the bane as well, to English looms menacingly over the left side . The word in the mother of all European languages is ‘sinister’. The opposite is ‘dexter’, a word with all the most desirable associations. Call a person dexterous . He/she will bless you. Anglo-Saxon ( Old English resembling apna Sanskrit in many ways was the language of Britain in the Dark Ages ) had the word, ‘ lyft’, a close look-alike but again with the meaning ‘weak’ or ‘foolish’. It was only in the 13the century did it get its rightful place as the partner of left.
And it has been a very unequal partnership. Evil intentions lurk behind making Right the antonym of Left . As Right has another antonym, ‘Wrong’, syllogistically left becomes wrong ! But ‘Left is Right’ is the slogan of at least two schools of thought, two groups of warriors who have emerged as powerful defenders of everything ‘sinister’! One school is of the lefties, the southpaws or sinistrals as they are called…I wish I could say ‘we’ instead of ‘they’ for reasons that will be made obvious in the course of this paragraph itself. The charge of the southpaw brigade is led by American author and celebrity lefty, Rae Lindsay( the same dame with interesting titles like ‘ How to be a Perfect Bitch’ to her credit). Her iconic book, ‘ Left is Right : The Survival guide for Living Lefty in a Right Handed World ’ reveals how to be left-handed is much more than just right .It is greater than great as some of the greatest of the past from Biblical times to the living present – from David of the David and Goliath story of the Bible , Alexander , the Great, Michael Angelo, Leonardo da Vinci to the two Bills ( Clinton and Gates) ) and Oprah were/are southpaws. To the list we can add our own Shah en Shah of the acting world, Amitabh Bachan and sundry other well-known and less known individuals of your neighbourhood.
The declaration of war against right majoritarianism is long overdue. Lefties have been victims of prejudices and superstitions , leave alone the practical problems of handling the scissors, latches, doors , tools and machines of the righthanded world. It has been a world of the righthanded, for the righthanded and by the righthanded. The right hand has enjoyed a privileged position always, in nearly all cultures. Give or take with the right hand is the accepted behaviour. The lefty is obliged to artificially comply, against her/his grain. Many idiomatic expressions mirror the belief system of the right-handed 80 percent and insult the sensibilities of the sinistrals. No one likes a left-handed compliment, for instance. But that is the only compliment worth its name for the lefthanded person. ‘ Right hand man ’ is another hurting usage. The wife is ,vama or vamabhagam , the one whose position is on the husband’s left side , with insinuations of inferiority of both the position and the woman . Another matter, of course, if the husband is a lefty ! Or both are lefties !
Even in the right handed , the role of the left hand is unique. It does the dirty work sans demur. It plays its supportive role without any protest, shares all the work very co-operatively. But its services are not acknowledged in prose or verse. Work of the left hand ( daye hath ka khel ! in the sense of child’s play ) is how language dismisses &underplays the contribution of the left hand. Well, the lefties are out of the closet now , wearing the badge proudly and commading the admiration of the destrals.
The other worthies for whom Left is Right are the Leftist politicians. The origin of the use of the word for anything radical or revolutionary is more literal than ideological. All things revolutionary started with the French Revolution, not with Russia or China or even Karl Marx as some leftists might like to believe. In the National Assembly of France in 1789, the anti-monarchists sat on the left of the President and the Royalists sat to his right. The right wingers and left wingers came into being, were born in this flat , prosaic manner . No blaring of horns or beatings of trumpets . If the Left heard a Panchajanya, it was purely imaginary. But if I were to write the script of the story, I would definitely add it, because the transformative ideology that leftward thinking spawned deseve it. Lal Salaam ! In the same breath I must add that the transformation and the triumph of revolution were short-lived. The state did not wither away. It only became more authoritarian and Big Brother who symbolized the state, an out and out dictator. The communist experiment in governance only replaced one oppressive regime with another. The residue of the revolution has done workers of the free world, God’s Own Country, being the freest, a power of good. The power of collective bargaining is that residue. Shikshakaancha Ekjudice Vijayaaso !…..Teachers’ Unity zindabad !! I have shouted slogans along with my colleagues at Azad Maidan in Mumbai. Been part of boycotts, strikes, demonstrations called by unions often of the Left….sometimes of the Middle &, too. Somewhat like Lib Dem .
Which turn do I, should I take , right or left ? At strange crossroads in Mumbai or anywhere else I stand confused and often take the wrong turn , walk a little and return to take the right turn. But what I consider the wrong turn could have led me to a different , greater destination. You cant, of course , take all the turns. But when you walk forward it is always a march in response to the command Left- Right, Left- Right , Left- Right…..great moral there. Without Left there is no Right and without Right there is nothing Left.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Eunoia: A Blogger at last !
Eunoia: A Blogger at last !: " I feel all the excitement of a first time..."
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Eunoia: A Blogger at last !
Eunoia: A Blogger at last !: " I feel all the excitement of a first time..."
A Columnist , too. Friday edition of City Journal , an English Daily from Trissur , Kerala carried my ' Left-Right Reflections' yesterday (14, Jan)
A Columnist , too. Friday edition of City Journal , an English Daily from Trissur , Kerala carried my ' Left-Right Reflections' yesterday (14, Jan)
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