From the Diary of a Snake

Yesterday was a very painful day for me. I had come out in the open for an evening crawl. The hot day of the rainy season had been followed by a light breeze in the evening, which was a perfect occasion for my crawl. I wanted to breathe the fresh air after living in the dark fissures of my underground home for long. I wanted to enjoy every moment of my crawl.

Suddenly I saw a giant looking creature staring at me from a distance. He looked very similar to the kind of species named human beings, about whom my parents had warned me in my childhood. He had covered his body with strange looking materials from neck to the bottom. He could stand like a tree, but unlike us he moved vertically. My parents had conveyed that these humans consider us as their sworn enemies. Whenever or wherever they catch sight of us, they attack and kill us.

So, I immediately crawled for safety and hid myself under a big iron box kept nearby. From there I could see that the human was still standing. It seemed it was speaking to someone with the help of a device in his one hand. Just then I saw that two other humans arrived on a fast moving machine. They were armed will long sticks, the sight of which sent a chill down my whole body.

My grandfather had once told me that though the human beings consider themselves the most powerful creatures on the earth, most of them worship a superpower named God in various forms. They always pray to God whenever in danger. I wished we also had had such a God to whom I could send my prayers.

Anyway these two well built fellows started searching every nook and corner around. Soon they discovered my hiding place. They overturned the box and surrounded me from two sides. I crouched and left myself to the fate. By that time a few more humans had assembled to watch this whole spectacle. They started talking to one another. Probably they were discussing my fate: whether to kill me or to drive me away. I used this as an opportunity to escape from there and run towards the road.

Thus started the game of hide and seek between me and those lathi clad guys. They were trying to lift me on the stick but I would always escape either to the roads or the bushes. I saw that one of the onlookers was using the same small device that I had seen with the first human, to take an aim at me. Probably they were taking my images which they would show and circulate later as a sign of their victory.

I could not continue dribbling and dodging in this life threatening game for long. I was tired and injured. So I gave up. They held me on a stick and threw me away from 'their territory' in the wild of the rice fields across the boundary wall. I fell on an unknown and unfamiliar hard surface with a thud, hurt and humiliated.

I was unable to understand why I had been thrown away from the place where I had lived since my birth. Why do the human beings consider us as their enemies? Why should they kill us or even evict us from the territories which are equally ours? We never offend them or any other species unless provoked. Is it not possible for all the creatures including us and humans to live together in peace and harmony on this Earth? 

Pottery on the fringe

Most students living in the school campus go home during the Diwali holidays. But it has become customary for the small group that stays back to visit the house of Nazeeb Khan, a potter in village Gilpatti near Bathinda, Punjab. The purpose is not just to buy earthen diyas, but also to behold the process of making the age-old source of light. 

So a group of twelve students and three teachers set out on a short expedition on foot on 11th November 2014, the day of Diwali. Early morning they walked for two kilometers to meet Nazeeb, who received them warmly outside the village and escorted them to his house. In the past it was inconceivable that a potter would be free from work on a Diwali day. Nazeeb and his family members would start making diyas several weeks before in those days. Still they could not fulfill the demand of the customers. 

Things are different now. Very few people are interested in earthen diyas these days. 

   Nazeeb Khan giving shape to a diya. 

Photo credit: arun jee

There was excitement among the students. They had come to observe Nazeeb making diyas and also to try their hand at pottery. It may appear simple, but a small diya has to go through various complex processes-- selecting the appropriate clay for kneading, giving shape on the running chak to baking-- before it reaches the hands of its user. Nazeeb is adept at these skills. He did not go to a school to acquire this art. It has come to him naturally by watching his elders. The students enjoyed watching Nazeeb's fingers negotiating with clay dough on the moving chak. They were awed by the way he was able to mould the clay into the shape and size of his choice with a certain fluidity in his movements. Some of them even tried their hand at this creative process, but in vain. Little did they realise that what they were trying to do in one attempt has taken years for Nazeeb to master.

Nazeeb's ancestors were potters who had come to Gilpatti some 300 hundred years back in search of livelihood. Since then the coming generations have been engaged in this profession. The difference between then and now is that pottery was the only source of income for his ancestors, but for Nazeeb and his generation it is just a part time job.

Fifty years ago when the majority of people still used earthen pots and utensils for their daily use, the potters were in great demand. They had to work constantly to meet the requirements of the community in the village. The times have changed now. The earthenware have now been replaced by the metal ones in every household, those of steel the most common. These pots (earthen) have just remained the works of art which may fetch higher prices in some high end markets, if recognized by the connoisseurs. But it is no longer a regular source of income for them. Nazeeb and his community wait anxiously for the season of Deepawali when he and his family would make use of their skill to earn as much as possible.

In the remaining part of the year Nazeeb earns his livelihood as a barber. His elder brother, Anwar, works as a conductor in a bus. His uncle drives a horse cart.

The descendants of Nazeeb's great great grandfather have expanded and have branched out. Most of these families live in close proximity with one another in a kind of ghetto but pottery isn't a full time profession for any. Just as they live on the northern end of the village, their art and profession of pottery is also on the fringe.     

A Voyage to Sea of Poppies

My week-long voyage to Sea of Poppies by Amitav Ghosh was full of excitement, adventure, learning and joy. Set in the historical backdrop of mid-nineteenth century the novel's canvas is as wide as an ocean, carrying in its womb multitudes of stories, characters, themes, locations, languages...... yet remaining placid, cool and calm.

I became interested in the book after reading a reference to the opium factories in Gazipur and Patna in one of book's reviews. I already knew that the main building of Patna College, much before the college was started in 1863, had been used as an opium factory earlier. 

This led me to embark on the journey of Sea of Poppies with the expectation to sail through the history, language and culture of the places, I thought, were known to me. Flipping through the pages of the book was an exhilarating experience. I got an opportunity to observe the places like Patna, Bakhtiarpur, Monghyr, Teghra, Barauni or objects like Barh ka Lai etc through the prism of a master story teller like Amitav Ghosh. 

However these are only a few of the many items available on the plate of the novel. Just as the white Ganga merges with the Hoogly and finally disappears in the Black Water of the Ocean at Gangasagar, the story  continues through the regions of Bhojpur, Bengal, India, China, England, Europe(the list is long); creating in its wake the conflicts of culture, language, politics and economics, evoking in the reader sympathy, love, hate, humour and nostalgia for a bygone era. 

Reading the novel is like having a smooth sail in a dinghy over the surface of a deep sea. 

By the way what happened to Jodu, Kalua, Serang Ali, Neel and Ah Fatt after they escaped in the lifeboat and what was in store for the rest of the characters on the ship named Ibis? I must find out in the next novel of Amitav Ghosh, River of Smoke. My next voyage has already begun. 

Decoding Medical & Non-Medical

The year was 2007. I had just started working as Principal at Delhi Public School, Bathinda in Punjab, a north-western state in India. A student came to seek admission to class 11. 

My usual question to him was, “What is your choice of the stream?

He replied, “Medical”.

I was puzzled to hear this as I had been acquainted with only three streams of subjects available for the students in class 11 till then: Science, Commerce and Humanities. 

In the 10+2+3 system of education widely prevalent in India a student is required to opt for one of these three streams in +2. However I had not heard anything about this new term, 'Medical', as a stream of subjects.

I asked him further, “What do you mean by this term, 'Medical'?

The student stared at me quizzically trying to convey how an educator like me was not acquainted with this term. So the responsibility of resolving this impasse fell on me.

My question became more specific now. “What subjects do you want to choose?” I asked.

He said, “Physics, Chemistry and Biology”.

Then I understood that he had had the dream of taking a medical course after +2 and the group of subjects (Physics, Chemistry and Biology) was the means to fulfill that dream. I was still unable to understand how the means, the said group of subjects, can be called by the name of its end, that is 'a medical course'.

In the same way I discovered another term, 'Non-Medical', in my similar interactions with the students, teachers and parents of the school. 'Non-Medical' was popularly used as a term for another 'stream' which included the subjects like Physics, Chemistry and Mathematics.

'Non-Medical' was more intriguing however. Literally it should have included all other subjects that are not a part of the so called 'Medical'. Even those of Commerce and Humanities. But that is not the case. It is associated with a course or profession of engineering.

Over a period of time it became clear to me that the combination of subjects known as 'Medical' was selected with the primary aim of taking up a course in Medicine and the other combination, 'Non-Medical' was chosen for Engineering. Interestingly 'Medical' was common to both.

Still I kept wondering whether these words are used only in the casual, informal speech or they are being used even formally by the media and the organisations like schools or colleges. Accordingly I took the samples of news reports related to class 12 Board examinations from different newspapers in India. 

The results of the survey were revealing. The use of these terms is limited generally to north-western parts of India. All the newspapers from Chandigarh like The Tribune, The Indian Express or TOI make liberal use of these two terms. But they are not being used by the newspapers in other parts of India. They use Science in place of 'Medical' or Non-'Medical'. 

Interestingly a newspaper like The Indian Express uses 'Medical', 

'Non-Medical' for the reports of its Chandigarh edition, whereas it uses 'Science' for its Raipur edition.

The indiscriminate use of these terms remain limited not just to the schools or the newspapers in this region. It gets extended even to the colleges and universities that grant certificates of BSc Medical or BSc Non-Medical to the Science graguates.

The evolution of a language is closely associated with the aspirations of the people using that language and the high aspirations of the youth in India to rise the ladder of social mobility by choosing these two professions of medical and engineering is also a well-known fact. But why only the people in the north-western India choose to ascribe names to these aspirations as 'Medical' and 'Non-Medical' is indeed a puzzle. 

The native users of English might be amazed to see the new words that are being formed in their language in a far off region in India. Whether these words are making English still richer or not, but they do represent the voice of the changing times and culture

If Shakespeare was alive and he had observed the coinage of 'Medical' and 'Non-Medical', he would probably have changed one of his famous statements of The Twelfth Night and said, if language is an expression of culture, then carry on.

The Gunshots in Lodhi Garden

Set in the backdrop of 1984 Riots in Delhi, The Gunshots in Lodhi Garden is a thriller full of suspense, love, romance and violence. Once you enter this novel's world of characters and its racy sequence of events you do not rest content till you reach its very end. This is the second work of fiction by the Delhi based Chartered Accountant and Educationist turned writer, Pramod Grover. His first novel, The Wedding Gift, was published some twenty years back, in 1992.

The main plot of the story is woven around the novel's chief protagonist, Sonali Chand, and the events related to her marriage, love and her close encounters with Death. The conflict between the other two characters, Shaukat Ram; a powerful Delhi based politician and Jaggu, a riot victim turned terrorist forms an important sub-plot that runs parallel to the main plot. The 1984 anti Sikh Riots loom large over the canvas of the novel.

Like any other novelist Pramod Grover also uses story, plot, character and technique as the building blocks for The Gunshots in Lodhi Garden. However his strong preference for the element of character in the novel seems quite apparent. He creates his characters with such sensitivity and detail that they remain etched in the memory of the reader. One cannot forget the names of Sonali, Shaukat Ram, Andy, Jaggu so easily.

A Book of Memory - Sudhir Kakar

One of India's most celebrated psychoanalysts, Sudhir Kakar, may have analysed the psyche of scores of men and women in the course of his practice of 36 years. However his recent book, A Book of Memory, is an attempt to examine his own self on the couch. Through this book of autobiography he has tried to present and analyse the journey of his life.

Kakar's childhood coincides with a period in history when the twin nations-- India and Pakistan-- were born and when they were both taking the baby steps with all their pain and predicament. It was in the backdrop of the tumultuous period of partition that he grew as a child. So the story of his childhood also relates the pangs of unwanted and unpleasant separation of the people from the innocent view of a child.

Son of a senior bureaucrat and the grandson of a leading surgen of Lahore he enjoyed special care as a child. He attended some of the well known public schools in Delhi and Shimla and finally took up a conventional course in engineering that his parents had already decided for him in the mid fifties in Ahmedabad. Ironically it was this period of his stay in Ahmedabad in the company of his aunt and her charmed circle that shaped the course of his future career as a practising, researching and writing psychoanalyst in the years to come.

Sudhir Kakar is living in what he calls the 'Vanprastha' of his life in Goa at present.

The Story of a Great Chinese Painter

This is the story of a painter named WU DAOZI who lived in the eighth century in China. He lost his parents at a very early age but by dint of sheer hard work and talent he earned a good reputation for himself at a young age of 20. When the Tang emperor Xuangzong came to know about him, he invited him to become an imperial painter in the court.

Wu was a man of open mind and liberal ideas. He had lived a life that was free from restrictions till then. Now as an imperial painter he could create a work only according to the desires of the emperor. Inspite of the restrictions he painted many great works of art-- about 300 murals and 100 scrolls.

One day the emperor asked him to create a painting to decorate the palace walls. Wu put his heart and soul in the work to create a landscape painting. When the king saw it, he was very impressed. He started appreciating the mountains, river and the other features of the landscape. However the painter interrupted and said, "Look Sire, at the cave that lies at the foot of the mountain. A spirit lives in this cave." After that he clapped his hands and the door of the cave in the painting opened. He further said, " The inside is so splendid! I wanted to show you the way." Then the painter entered the cave and the door closed behind him. Before the astonished emperor could say anything, the painting, the brush , everything had vanished along with the painter. WU DAOZI was never seen again in this world.

Sources: 

1. Nathalie Trouveroy, Landscape of the Soul, Hornbill, NCERT, 
2. India; http://www.chinaculture.org/gb/en_artqa/2005-  12/27/content_77521_2.htm

Aganiparv: Shantiniketan

Agani Parv Shantiniketan(अग्नि पर्व शान्तिनिकेतन) is the Hindi translation of a book written by a Hungarian author named ROZSA who lived in India between 1929 and 1932. The book is in the form of a diary which she wrote when she had lived with her husband in Shantiniketan during those years.

The husband had been working there on an assignment of teaching and she, as someone coming from a European country, was observing the environment and activities of Shantiniketan and India with wonder and jotting down the observations in the pages of her diary. She had also travelled the other parts of India like Jammu & Kashmir etc. during that period.

This was the period when the Freedom Movement in India was at its peak. Gandhi had led Salt satyagraha while Nehru was emerging as a national leader. Gandhi and Ravindranath were in regular touch. They also had their differences on various issues of national & international importance. It was also the time when literary and cultural resurgence was taking a concrete shape in Bengal with Ravindranath's Shantiniketan in the driving seat.

The book touches upon all these issues and activities and I am looking forward to reading it. It can also serve as a good source of history. I must thank Prof. Namvar Singh, an eminent critic of Hindi literature, who introduced this to me through his regular Book Review programme that comes on DD every Monday morning.

Summer Vacation 2009: The Experiences

Often I used to hear people say that Banglore is an air-conditioned city. However I experienced it firsthand when we went to the city in the first week of June. In spite of the increasing traffic congestion and pollution the weather of the city was very cool and pleasant. It was indeed a great respite from the oppressive heat of Bathinda. The mornings and evenings were cooler but the nights were cold and you needed a blanket to cover yourself with.

Living in a residential colony of Banglore was another experience. The residents were mostly IT professionals from multi lingual backgrounds. And the common language for interaction among them was English. It was interesting to watch their children using English with their friends in the park.

From Banglore we made a short trip to Mahabalipuram and Pondichery, two well known coastal towns in the south, against all the established wisdom of travel and tourism.

Mahabalipuram is one of the ancient towns of India which is famous for its temple architecture. According to the historians it was an important port on the southeastern coast in the early times. The town is also known as an open air museum as it is dotted with a number of old temples, some of which are the living specimens of our temple art and architecture. Normally the temples in India have been found to be of three types --cave temples, those made of single rocks and the perched ones. Interestingly Mahabalipuram can boast to have all the three types. 

The one that struck me the most was the awesome Shore Temple, which as the name suggests, lies exactly on the shore. This majestic perched temple that was built over a thousand years years back during the period of the Pallavas is a living testimony of our rich cultural heritage. In spite of the regular onslaught that it faces from the wind, rain and the sea itself, it speaks volumes about the people’s belief, knowledge and skills in the past. The other structures depicting traditional Indian mythology are also very striking.

Near the Shore temple we came across a number of shops where stone statues of various shapes and sizes are made and sold. This brought to my mind several questions--- What is the history of temple architecture in Tamil Nadu and India? How some of the beliefs of the people are linked over a large part of the country? Are their some families living in Mahabalipuram that have been associated with this art for more than thousand years?

We also had an opportunity to see a classical singer singing devotional music in one of the temples there. It was indeed a reminder of the association of Carnatic music with the temples in south India since the early times.

Pangs of Separation

Adnan came to see me in the office today.

He was a student from Nepal
whose Exams of class XII had got over
And who was leaving the hostel for ever.

The very idea of his absence from the hostel
from tomorrow gave me the pangs of separation.
I couldn't express it to him but I was restless.

I came home but I wanted to meet him again.
After an hour I went towards the boys' hostel.
My eyes were searching him constantly,
I saw him with Yam
taking the snaps of the students playing in the ground.

The pictures of his two years' stay
were passing through my mind throughout the night.
My recent playing badminton with him,
the most memorable.
His moving from side to side to recieve my shots were indeed striking.

Adnan was bright, cheerful and positive ----
had all those qualities symbolic of the young generation.
His leaving the hostel
filled my eyes with the pangs of separation.

arun

The Da Vinci Code : A Review

The Da Vinci Code is one of the best known novels of the contemporary literature.The author of the novel, Dan Brown, has deftly woven a plot that integrates some of the conflicts that exist between religion and spirituality, tradition and modernity in the society today.

The story of the novel begins with the assassination of the curator of Louvre museum, Jacques Sauniere who leaves several clues to reveal the enigma that the genius of Leonardo Da Vinci stands for in the west. Leonado Da Vinci may be called the hero of the novel as he is the pivot around which the story is centered. However the main characters are Robert Langdon, Professor of symbolism at Harvard and Sophie Neveu, a French cryptographer.

On the basis of the clues left by Sauniere these two characters try to decipher such mysteries in the novel that have stirred the whole western world today. Ironically professor Langdon is not only chasing these mysteries along with Sophie, he is also being chased by the police as a suspect of the murder.

Through the unfolding of these clues Dan Brown has tried to relate the great works of Da Vinci to the life and times of the society in which he lived. The author must have done an exhaustive research in this regard as the facts given in the novel seem to be very accurate. Moreover the list of these facts is long.

The great paintings of Da Vinci, Mona Lisa and The Last Supper, are the two of the many cases in point. The background of Mona Lisa's painting and the presence of a lady in The Last Supper reveal the perception of the great artist on the equality of sex. By portraying this perception of Da Vinci Dan Brown has tried to indicate how a particular section of religion has tried to lower the status of women in the society over the ages.

Dan Brown is a great artist who has integrated all these elements of plot, character, facts and techniques in such a way that the world of the novel seems more a reality than fiction. In fact at several points the boundary between the facts and fiction gets blurred.

- Arun Jee

Sevagram to Shodhgram

"Sev agram to shodhgram" is a book that narrates the story of a doctor couple who are rendering yeoman service to the people living in the  remote villages of Maharastra.

Dr Ajay Bang and Dr Rani Bang completed their education in medicine from a prestigious university in the USA and, instead of going along with prevailing tide of brain drain,they decided to settle in the tribal ares of Gadchiroli district in Maharastra.

Influenced by the ideals of Gandhiji, this model couple has been able to prove that if you have the will and commitment you can surely bring smile on the countless faces of the suffering humanity in those villages which constitute the heart of India. Working against all odds of financial strain, illiteracy and the rigid traditions of the tribal people they are able to provide the medical treatment and training to them on basis of the constant action research that they are doing in these villages. Many of their articles have been published in the leading international journals of medicine. Their work has been recognized by the WHO and other international organisations.

The Bangs have been successful in their mission not just by their knowledge and skill but also by involving and winning the people for whom they are working. They have done some commendable work on the diseases related to women, children and men with a high degree of success. Some of the diseases of those areas are malaria, pneumonia, filaria and those related to malnutrition etc.

The tireless and unflinching efforts of this couple are a great source of inspiration for all of us. Dr Ajay Bang,who is also the narrator in this book, seems to be making a call to the countrymen at the end when he says, "Friends, you can make the difference."

arun jee

Impressions of Childhood

I remember, I remember

I remember I remember
The four o'clock bell at school When I would come home rushing by

swelling with joy

to let the kites go high,
very high in the sky
There was no fear then
of the rays of the sun
Be they violet-ultra or red-infra.

I also remember
the days of the summer evenings
when I would enjoy to the brim, hours on end
the dipping, splashing and playing
in the river that was flowing.

I remember, I remember
how I would pick
a few lines of a song
and keep on humming the whole day long
Then there was no restriction
of time, place and action.

When I look back now
at those good old days
when ignorance was bliss
and innocence was joy

I understand that
I have come a long way
from that state of heaven
that is known as childhood

--- arun jee