The chennai international film festival just concluded. A plethora of films from various countries spread out over two weeks. Vying with this was the Chennai music festival for which I was commissioned to write a few pieces. I would have managed this and the usual work demands but most worryingly, mother was unwell.
Something that brings things into sharp focus is illness. What is more important? what are festivals of music and films for? What is art? and lastly, why do you watch films, read, hear music????
Still, some memorable films in the festival and I'll write about them here soon...
24 December 2010
08 December 2010
Some Interesting Books
There is a collection of essays about Amitav Ghosh (Amitav Ghosh - a critical companion) which has been edited by Tabish Khair. After a long gap, I am back in touch with Ghosh's work.
The book promises to be a good read which will throw insights into this writer's novels and essays which are born of this curious mix of history, anthropology and fiction. It is fascinating to see experts analyse various theories of anthropology that underlie the construction of the author's major novels.
Analyses of works of fiction always indicate that story-telling is a very conscious art. It only appears spontaneous and is most often carefully thought out and scientifically (in this case) carved out. But there must have been a stage when the story just came out and wrote itself. Are those not the truest stories that need to be told and listened to?
A wonderful addition to this set of critical essays is Ghosh's own piece on Satyajit Ray, his idol of Bengali cinema. A poignant note is struck when Ghosh discloses that despite his obvious near-devotional admiration of Ray, he never actually met the latter and only had extended phone conversations with him... Still it sets a tone of seriousness and sentiment for the book.
I look forward to reading more of this book.
The book promises to be a good read which will throw insights into this writer's novels and essays which are born of this curious mix of history, anthropology and fiction. It is fascinating to see experts analyse various theories of anthropology that underlie the construction of the author's major novels.
Analyses of works of fiction always indicate that story-telling is a very conscious art. It only appears spontaneous and is most often carefully thought out and scientifically (in this case) carved out. But there must have been a stage when the story just came out and wrote itself. Are those not the truest stories that need to be told and listened to?
A wonderful addition to this set of critical essays is Ghosh's own piece on Satyajit Ray, his idol of Bengali cinema. A poignant note is struck when Ghosh discloses that despite his obvious near-devotional admiration of Ray, he never actually met the latter and only had extended phone conversations with him... Still it sets a tone of seriousness and sentiment for the book.
I look forward to reading more of this book.
24 November 2010
Passing of a Friend
A friend from my college days passed away recently. I had not been in touch with him for years - over ten - and got to hear from him very recently and that too, after knowing that he was terminally ill and was fighting to stay alive. A cold sort of empty feeling is what surrounds me when I think of it. His family, loved ones, children... it seems unfair.
Yes I know life is not fair. It has never been so, and in milder ways I have experienced the way it brushes off anyone's feeble attempts to resist being pulled along with its whims and fancies. That does not offer clarity or suggest a way out in a moment like this
Death brings to mind the superficiality of so many things we say and do - even declaration of relationships. It springs on one the mix of feeling and unfeeling which holds the same questions about choosing to be selfish or unselfish, and whether achievements have any significance, in the world patched up with currency streams whirling around power vortices.
My feelings on ram's passing rest only in the memory of very childish laughter and pranks that we shared as friends,it would be a slight and a pain to try and share his family's bereavement. I rest my commmiserations, like a small unnoticeable bunch of petals among the huge wreaths of love that my friend's family offer as a tribute to his memory.
Yes I know life is not fair. It has never been so, and in milder ways I have experienced the way it brushes off anyone's feeble attempts to resist being pulled along with its whims and fancies. That does not offer clarity or suggest a way out in a moment like this
Death brings to mind the superficiality of so many things we say and do - even declaration of relationships. It springs on one the mix of feeling and unfeeling which holds the same questions about choosing to be selfish or unselfish, and whether achievements have any significance, in the world patched up with currency streams whirling around power vortices.
My feelings on ram's passing rest only in the memory of very childish laughter and pranks that we shared as friends,it would be a slight and a pain to try and share his family's bereavement. I rest my commmiserations, like a small unnoticeable bunch of petals among the huge wreaths of love that my friend's family offer as a tribute to his memory.
15 November 2010
dazzled by the heroics
why does one not write ? It's a very very good question isn't it... but one which has no easy answer, or perhaps there just is not point in answering this.
between the nameless formless darkness of the undefined present and the vision of having it out in words, there is only a painful feeling that something must be said, if not for the benefit of the onlookers, then for oneself. Naturally the second person even may have zero interest in what you write...
so the question finally is.. why must one at all write?
between the nameless formless darkness of the undefined present and the vision of having it out in words, there is only a painful feeling that something must be said, if not for the benefit of the onlookers, then for oneself. Naturally the second person even may have zero interest in what you write...
so the question finally is.. why must one at all write?
25 October 2010
Drama Festival at Purisai
There was a festival of traditional dramatic forms organised at Purisai near Vandavasi last weekend. It was a complete treat for any theatre fan...
Some high points in the show:
Muruga Bupathi's - Miruga Vidhushagam was absolutely stunning in its imagery and well thought out content... it was a comment on the stranglehold of consumerism on people which acts through a mixture of greed and lack of awareness and education.
This was followed by Pralayan's group... who really gave life to the verbal satirical style of theatre..
The famous play written by Veerama munivar - Paramaartha Guru - was given life to by artists from Madurai, directed by Shanmugaraj... The play is a master piece in its way, highlighting at the same time the crime of being ignorant and the absurdity of being organised! The actors are to be commended for giving their all into their performances....
Some high points in the show:
Muruga Bupathi's - Miruga Vidhushagam was absolutely stunning in its imagery and well thought out content... it was a comment on the stranglehold of consumerism on people which acts through a mixture of greed and lack of awareness and education.
This was followed by Pralayan's group... who really gave life to the verbal satirical style of theatre..
The famous play written by Veerama munivar - Paramaartha Guru - was given life to by artists from Madurai, directed by Shanmugaraj... The play is a master piece in its way, highlighting at the same time the crime of being ignorant and the absurdity of being organised! The actors are to be commended for giving their all into their performances....
22 October 2010
Butterflies painted for your viewing - Mr Manohar Devadoss's painting Exhibition
As a nature lover I could not help being moved by my visit to Manohar Devadoss's exhibition. There were about 32 paintings featured there, most of them painted in the last three years. The paintings were in a realistic style. The colours and proportions were so carefully done that the paintings transported the viewer into another world. The stags under a bent tree and butterflies in blue surrounded by bunches of spring flowers walked away with the honours easily --- though one must say it is a matter of taste only and that all paintings were equally evocative and lovely. Just a day after the exhibition started all painting were sold out, in fact even when I reached the hall many of them had a red dot stuck on them to indicate that they had been sold.
The painter suffers from severe impairment of vision. In his own words, his vision was diminishing fast and if I wished to ask for a replica of he butterflies I'd have to make it soon.... I would have committed myself at once, if not for the budget but nevertheless timidly summoned up the courage to ask whether He could make a proportionately smaller one at a tenth of the price!
The proceeds are going to charity - with sankara nethralaya and arvind eye hospital being the beneficiaries.
The painter suffers from severe impairment of vision. In his own words, his vision was diminishing fast and if I wished to ask for a replica of he butterflies I'd have to make it soon.... I would have committed myself at once, if not for the budget but nevertheless timidly summoned up the courage to ask whether He could make a proportionately smaller one at a tenth of the price!
The proceeds are going to charity - with sankara nethralaya and arvind eye hospital being the beneficiaries.
21 September 2010
Review of Secrets and Sins, by Jaishree Misra, Harper Collins
This was published in the New Indian Express (19 September 2010, Sunday) in the Readright Section.
Fractured marriage crossed with a star
Shubashree Desikan
First Published : 19 Sep 2010 09:20:00 AM IST
Last Updated : 17 Sep 2010 07:04:58 PM IST
Secrets and Sins by Jaishree Misra:
It is no mean feat to whip out a story of about a hundred thousand words that hangs together and holds the interest of the reader, but Jaishree Misra manages it. I picked up this book intrigued by the blurb which said that the book was the story of a prize-winning novelist, but there were other captivating elements too, apart from the main storyline.
Riva Walia, born of Indian parents but brought up a Britisher, is a successful novelist living in London. Riva and Ben are about to enter their 15th year of marriage, but all is not well at their home — Ben’s lack of success as an
author coupled with Riva’s fame are acting to ruin the carefully constructed relationship between them. Into this situation walks in the most dramatic character in the story — Bollywood actor Aman, a passionate old flame of Riva’s, whose suit Riva rejected to marry, as she had perceived then, the more reliable and worthy Ben. Riva is invited to be on the panel of judges for the BAFTA awards, which leads to a week in Cannes in the most romantic of settings with Aman, also on the jury. Aman is married, too, but it turns out that he has never really forgotten Riva either… how are they going to find their way out of this romantic maze?
Some aspects of the novel are very interesting. One is the way the main characters in the story are treated. Riva, from start to finish comes across consistently as the polite, well-behaved, always fair and intelligent, intellectual woman with a streak of fierce loyalty; Susan, her childhood friend and Aman are portrayed as more light-hearted; Kaaya, Riva’s sister, with whom she has a very complicated relationship, is also convincingly portrayed — in Riva’s eyes a spoilt, selfish brat, used to taking what she wants with never a care for others — and is perhaps the most interesting character in the story.
The other part of the novel that is well-crafted is Kaaya and Riva’s relationship. The rivalry between the sisters, verging on malice, is dominant, until the later portions where each of them gets to understand themselves and the other better and is a very strong thread in the novel, perhaps more touching than the main storyline. The third interesting aspect is that the story is about Riva and her sister who, despite their Indian origins, have totally merged into their London homes.
There are some gaps: the writer could have paid more attention to the dialogues. One feels this especially in the scenes involving Ben and his father. Though Ben is an important character, the author does not reveal much about him. She could have paid more attention to this. But perhaps it was intentional, as the main conflict in the novel is the tackling of extramarital relationships and not the situation that may have led to them.
It would also have been better to add something to give the novel more substance, since it is an emotional drama that the writer has attempted. For example, more real references to London life, Bollywood and much more detail about Riva’s work in literature (as she is supposed to have won the Orange prize) could have worked magic.
Fractured marriage crossed with a star
Shubashree Desikan
First Published : 19 Sep 2010 09:20:00 AM IST
Last Updated : 17 Sep 2010 07:04:58 PM IST
Secrets and Sins by Jaishree Misra:
It is no mean feat to whip out a story of about a hundred thousand words that hangs together and holds the interest of the reader, but Jaishree Misra manages it. I picked up this book intrigued by the blurb which said that the book was the story of a prize-winning novelist, but there were other captivating elements too, apart from the main storyline.
Riva Walia, born of Indian parents but brought up a Britisher, is a successful novelist living in London. Riva and Ben are about to enter their 15th year of marriage, but all is not well at their home — Ben’s lack of success as an
author coupled with Riva’s fame are acting to ruin the carefully constructed relationship between them. Into this situation walks in the most dramatic character in the story — Bollywood actor Aman, a passionate old flame of Riva’s, whose suit Riva rejected to marry, as she had perceived then, the more reliable and worthy Ben. Riva is invited to be on the panel of judges for the BAFTA awards, which leads to a week in Cannes in the most romantic of settings with Aman, also on the jury. Aman is married, too, but it turns out that he has never really forgotten Riva either… how are they going to find their way out of this romantic maze?
Some aspects of the novel are very interesting. One is the way the main characters in the story are treated. Riva, from start to finish comes across consistently as the polite, well-behaved, always fair and intelligent, intellectual woman with a streak of fierce loyalty; Susan, her childhood friend and Aman are portrayed as more light-hearted; Kaaya, Riva’s sister, with whom she has a very complicated relationship, is also convincingly portrayed — in Riva’s eyes a spoilt, selfish brat, used to taking what she wants with never a care for others — and is perhaps the most interesting character in the story.
The other part of the novel that is well-crafted is Kaaya and Riva’s relationship. The rivalry between the sisters, verging on malice, is dominant, until the later portions where each of them gets to understand themselves and the other better and is a very strong thread in the novel, perhaps more touching than the main storyline. The third interesting aspect is that the story is about Riva and her sister who, despite their Indian origins, have totally merged into their London homes.
There are some gaps: the writer could have paid more attention to the dialogues. One feels this especially in the scenes involving Ben and his father. Though Ben is an important character, the author does not reveal much about him. She could have paid more attention to this. But perhaps it was intentional, as the main conflict in the novel is the tackling of extramarital relationships and not the situation that may have led to them.
It would also have been better to add something to give the novel more substance, since it is an emotional drama that the writer has attempted. For example, more real references to London life, Bollywood and much more detail about Riva’s work in literature (as she is supposed to have won the Orange prize) could have worked magic.
14 August 2010
Review of "Sprint of the Blackbuck"
This review was published in The New Indian Express; Readright section; 8 August 2010.
26 June 2010
BirdsofNIlgiris]
Though I am unable to state definitely, let me try to guess what these birds are by consulting the birdman. Those of you - readers - who may know are welcome to add your comments -
This bird was about 20 cm - Is this a female BLUE ROCK THRUSH?
This bird you see below was on the bough of a tree just above my head. We had parked within a plantation to study the birds that were flying about and I caught sight of this one on the nearby tree. This photo has been turned upside down in fact to make it clearer, the bird was actually clinging on to the tree and moving from the bottom of my field of view to the top. The bird was very close to me and looked about 15 cm long.
It looks slate grey here but as I was seeing it against the light and against the bough of a tree, from below that too,I can stretch the colour to greyish blue or indigo - So - is this a Nilgiri Verditer Flycatcher or a Male Blacknaped Blue Flycatcher?
Below is a photograph of two Rufousbacked Shrikes, about 25 cm with notably rufous rumps...I presume Male and Female.
Is the bird you see below a redwinged crested cuckoo or a whitebellied tree pie or a female Paradise Flycatcher? From the photo the bird appears small about 20 cm- but it was really far from where I stood - nearly 30 metres away, and on a tree - so it could easily have been twice that size. Say, it was anywhere between 20 cm and 40 cm long, esp with its tail hidden... My guess is it must have been about 20 cm and a female paradise flycatcher bending its head to peck itself on the chest...
Yellow vented bulbul
Baybacked Shrike - this was close - about 7-8 metres away - and definitely smaller than the pair displayed above - about 15 - 18 cm like a bulbul...
This bird was about 20 cm - Is this a female BLUE ROCK THRUSH?
This bird you see below was on the bough of a tree just above my head. We had parked within a plantation to study the birds that were flying about and I caught sight of this one on the nearby tree. This photo has been turned upside down in fact to make it clearer, the bird was actually clinging on to the tree and moving from the bottom of my field of view to the top. The bird was very close to me and looked about 15 cm long.
It looks slate grey here but as I was seeing it against the light and against the bough of a tree, from below that too,I can stretch the colour to greyish blue or indigo - So - is this a Nilgiri Verditer Flycatcher or a Male Blacknaped Blue Flycatcher?
Below is a photograph of two Rufousbacked Shrikes, about 25 cm with notably rufous rumps...I presume Male and Female.
Is the bird you see below a redwinged crested cuckoo or a whitebellied tree pie or a female Paradise Flycatcher? From the photo the bird appears small about 20 cm- but it was really far from where I stood - nearly 30 metres away, and on a tree - so it could easily have been twice that size. Say, it was anywhere between 20 cm and 40 cm long, esp with its tail hidden... My guess is it must have been about 20 cm and a female paradise flycatcher bending its head to peck itself on the chest...
Yellow vented bulbul
Baybacked Shrike - this was close - about 7-8 metres away - and definitely smaller than the pair displayed above - about 15 - 18 cm like a bulbul...
22 June 2010
Visit to Nilgiris - The Birds
Clouds were floating about noiselessly seeming menacing in the distance and misty when close. Our visit was full of beauty and a dynamic silence. Strangely, I felt as if I breathed in quanta of unclassified knowledge along with gulps of the cold, misty, pure, clean air. There was a curious self-transforming magic there, I realised later.
But alongside drinking in this intoxicating presence, I kept registering subconsciously the birds that flew in and out of the white, blotted-out vista and storing their pictures in my mind.
Here is a list of birds that I spotted. Though I have no pictures, I thought I'd mention them here just to share the information with like-minded readers.
(1) Crested Serpent Eagle
(2) Grey Partridge
(3)Grey Jungle Fowl
(4) Spotted Dove
(5) Nilgiri Wood Pigeon
(6) Blue-winged Parakeet
(7) Alpine Swift
(8) Hoopoe
(9) Indian Goldenbacked Three-toed Woodpecker (well! not sure about the number of toes, that looked like the most-probable option after consulting Salim Ali's book, but definitely goldenbacked.)
(10) Rufousbacked Shrike
(11) Scarlet Minivet (One Red Male and One Yellow Female/young one)
(12) Redwhiskered Bulbul
(13) Yellowbrowed bulbul
(14) Nilgiri Laughing Thrush
(15) Pied Bush Chat
But alongside drinking in this intoxicating presence, I kept registering subconsciously the birds that flew in and out of the white, blotted-out vista and storing their pictures in my mind.
Here is a list of birds that I spotted. Though I have no pictures, I thought I'd mention them here just to share the information with like-minded readers.
(1) Crested Serpent Eagle
(2) Grey Partridge
(3)Grey Jungle Fowl
(4) Spotted Dove
(5) Nilgiri Wood Pigeon
(6) Blue-winged Parakeet
(7) Alpine Swift
(8) Hoopoe
(9) Indian Goldenbacked Three-toed Woodpecker (well! not sure about the number of toes, that looked like the most-probable option after consulting Salim Ali's book, but definitely goldenbacked.)
(10) Rufousbacked Shrike
(11) Scarlet Minivet (One Red Male and One Yellow Female/young one)
(12) Redwhiskered Bulbul
(13) Yellowbrowed bulbul
(14) Nilgiri Laughing Thrush
(15) Pied Bush Chat
21 June 2010
Visit to Devashola Tea Factory in Coonoor
Fresh Tea Leaves
Fresh Leaves being Taken for steaming
Steaming of Tea Leaves
Steamed Leaves are Ground to form Small Threads
Ground Leaves are collected and moved to a Roasting Machine
Ground Leaves Being transported to Roaster
Weight-Sorting by a Centrifugal Method - Grades of Tea being collected
Grading by Weight in Progress
Roasted Tea Leaves - Sorted by size quality but not in colour
Last stage of Grading - Grading by Colour Selctor
Fresh Leaves being Taken for steaming
Steaming of Tea Leaves
Steamed Leaves are Ground to form Small Threads
Ground Leaves are collected and moved to a Roasting Machine
Ground Leaves Being transported to Roaster
Weight-Sorting by a Centrifugal Method - Grades of Tea being collected
Grading by Weight in Progress
Roasted Tea Leaves - Sorted by size quality but not in colour
Last stage of Grading - Grading by Colour Selctor
07 June 2010
Book Review of 'The Scar'
The Scar - is an autobiographical novel penned by Dr KA Gunasekaran, Tamil Scholar and Theatre Activist. You can find on this page my review of the novel and a part of the interview with the author - Published in The New Indian Express - Sunday, 6 June 2010.
25 May 2010
Interview with Diana and Michael Preston - "Alex Rutherford"
An interview I did of the authors of "Brothers in Arms" -- the second in a five-part history of the mughal empire in India.
The review of the book "Brothers in Arms" was also published alongside. You can see a print below.
The review of the book "Brothers in Arms" was also published alongside. You can see a print below.
21 May 2010
பானுபாரதியின் - பிறத்தியாள் - கவிதை தொகுப்பு வெளியீட்டு விழா
நேற்று மாலை இலங்கை கவிஞர் பானுபாரதி அவர்களின் “பிறத்தியாள்” கவிதை தொகுப்பு வெளியீட்டு விழாவில் நண்பர்களை சந்திக்க நேர்ந்தது. கறுப்பு பிரதிகளின் புது வெளியீடு...
கவிதைகளை பற்றி கவின் மலர், யாழினி முனுசாமி, சுகுணா திவாகர், வ கீதா, மற்றும் பிரபஞ்சன் கருத்துக்களை வழங்கினர்.
இதில் மிகச்சிறப்பாக இருந்தது கீதா அவர்களின் பேச்சுதான். பொதுவாக ஸ்ரீலங்காவை பற்றி அவருக்கு தெரிந்த விஷயங்களையும், இலக்கியத்தில் அவருக்கு இருக்கும் அறிவையும் வைத்துக்கொண்டே ஒரு மணி நேரம் மேடை பேச்சை நிகழ்த்தியிருக்க முடிந்தும் அவர் அப்படி செய்யாமல் இந்த பேச்சிற்காக செலவிட்ட சில நாழிகைகள் அவருடைய பேச்சில் தெளிவாக தெரிந்தது.
கூட்டங்களிலே யார் எதை பேசலாம், தன்னை தானே எப்படி அடையாளம் காண்பிக்கலாம் என்றெல்லாமே பேசி பேசி சண்டையில் முடியும் விழாக்களுக்கு நடுவில் கீதாவின் பேச்சு கவிதை வாசிப்பின் பல கோணங்களை முன்னிறுத்தி கூட்டததிற்கு வந்தவர்களை உத்வேகப்படுத்துவதாய் அமைந்தது.
கவிதைகள் பற்றி அடுத்த பதிவில்....
(தொடரும்)
கவிதைகளை பற்றி கவின் மலர், யாழினி முனுசாமி, சுகுணா திவாகர், வ கீதா, மற்றும் பிரபஞ்சன் கருத்துக்களை வழங்கினர்.
இதில் மிகச்சிறப்பாக இருந்தது கீதா அவர்களின் பேச்சுதான். பொதுவாக ஸ்ரீலங்காவை பற்றி அவருக்கு தெரிந்த விஷயங்களையும், இலக்கியத்தில் அவருக்கு இருக்கும் அறிவையும் வைத்துக்கொண்டே ஒரு மணி நேரம் மேடை பேச்சை நிகழ்த்தியிருக்க முடிந்தும் அவர் அப்படி செய்யாமல் இந்த பேச்சிற்காக செலவிட்ட சில நாழிகைகள் அவருடைய பேச்சில் தெளிவாக தெரிந்தது.
கூட்டங்களிலே யார் எதை பேசலாம், தன்னை தானே எப்படி அடையாளம் காண்பிக்கலாம் என்றெல்லாமே பேசி பேசி சண்டையில் முடியும் விழாக்களுக்கு நடுவில் கீதாவின் பேச்சு கவிதை வாசிப்பின் பல கோணங்களை முன்னிறுத்தி கூட்டததிற்கு வந்தவர்களை உத்வேகப்படுத்துவதாய் அமைந்தது.
கவிதைகள் பற்றி அடுத்த பதிவில்....
(தொடரும்)
03 May 2010
Sculpting the Fourth Pillar - ACJ convocation 2010
A new batch of journalists were all set to march their baby feet down the road to democracy, today, as the 2010 graduates from Chennai’s famous J school - Asian College of Journalism received their certificates from none other than Dr Binayak Sen, at the year’s convocation ceremony.
Dr Binayak Sen’s work in alternative healthcare in Chattisgarh has taken healthcare to the poorest of the poor in the state. Yet as a reward from the state, he was only accused of non-bailable offences and jailed for two years, even though the things he was accused of did not fall into the non-bailable category. He works with Rupantar, an NGO, whose activities centre on alcohol abuse, violence against women and food security, in twenty villages in the state. The Indian Academy of Social Sciences awarded the R.R. Keithan medal to Dr Sen , citing him ‘one of the most eminent scientists in India.’
Dr Sen’s talk entitled, ‘Hunger, Dispossession and Quest for Justice,’ must have touched the hearts of fledgling journalists gathered there, as it quickly ran through some of the most important
“Globalization is the current avatar of actually existing colonialism” and “keeping inequity in place requires diligent and sustained international effort, supplemented where necessary by military intervention” were the key notes of dr sen’s talk this evening.
He recalled the greatest party of all times – the celebration of queen victoria’s ascension as ‘kaiser-i-hind’ just a week after which 100, 000 people in India died on the streets of Chennai due to the refusal to release grain stocks by the viceroy. If that was a heartless act, what do we call the happenings in the present-day democratic state, as revealed by valid studies in healthcare?
A census carried out Rupantar using body mass index as a marker in tribal villages of chhatisgarh points out that by WHO standards these villages may be regarded to be in a state of famine. A related study by economist Utsa Patnaik further quantifies this famine state as “getting worse”. Other chronic problems in chhattisgarh were expropritation of common property and dispossession of tribals in the name of development, as global financial capital greedily flowed into this resource-rich region. This was due to the power vested by the doctrine of eminent domain on the State giving it ultimate ownership of all land and natural resources.
Land acquisition by the state was not always a peaceful affair, the authorities gad to do a lot of work and acquire it “literally at gupoint” in Bhansi in south Bastar when Essar and Tata needed the land for proposed development projects. ‘Yes, Bastar had a long history of popular resistance to oppression’, said dr sen, recalling Praveer Chandra Bhanj Deo – the ruler of Bastar in 1960, who resisted and was killed in an unfortunate incident during the chief ministership of DP Mishra.
Anyone who questions the state gets labeled ‘Maoist’. In chhattisgarh, the term includes even self-confessed Gandhians like Himanshu Kumar of the Vanvasi Chetna Ashram, the PUCL, which is only a human rights group, and other ‘pesky PIL-wielding academics’.
Speaking of the disheartened state of resistance movements, as even the NBA – the most vociferous movement witnessed so far - he quoted Prashant Bhushan. ‘Those who are going to become homeless … in this race of so-called development…will be forced to accept the bitter truth that they cannot stop the loot of their lands and resources by any democratic any non-violent means’.
‘…the creation of “physically and mentally hazardous conditions which could put the survival of particular communitiea at risk’ would also come within… genocide’ is the conclusion of Convention on the Prevention of Genocide, 1948. So what is happening in Central India is tantamount to this, we infer.
Even scientific methods to implement a dialogue with the State fail, as evidenced by the case of work on Tuberculosis in Central India. A study done by Jan Swasthya Sahyog (people’s health support group) in 53 forest-relatred villages in central India report an association of low body weight with occurrence of tuberculosis and also to famine conditions. The study urged the State to take an urgent imperative to look into the needs of food for the concerned people, in a scientific manner. However, this study and its recommendation was not incorporated into the fundamental architecture of the National Tuberculosis Programme.
Hearing about these incidents gave the audience an excellent grounding on what journalism could deal with and what were the aspects of politics that journalists would need to look into if they wished to justify the prestige of being called the ‘fourth pillar of democracy’.
Dr Binayak Sen’s work in alternative healthcare in Chattisgarh has taken healthcare to the poorest of the poor in the state. Yet as a reward from the state, he was only accused of non-bailable offences and jailed for two years, even though the things he was accused of did not fall into the non-bailable category. He works with Rupantar, an NGO, whose activities centre on alcohol abuse, violence against women and food security, in twenty villages in the state. The Indian Academy of Social Sciences awarded the R.R. Keithan medal to Dr Sen , citing him ‘one of the most eminent scientists in India.’
Dr Sen’s talk entitled, ‘Hunger, Dispossession and Quest for Justice,’ must have touched the hearts of fledgling journalists gathered there, as it quickly ran through some of the most important
“Globalization is the current avatar of actually existing colonialism” and “keeping inequity in place requires diligent and sustained international effort, supplemented where necessary by military intervention” were the key notes of dr sen’s talk this evening.
He recalled the greatest party of all times – the celebration of queen victoria’s ascension as ‘kaiser-i-hind’ just a week after which 100, 000 people in India died on the streets of Chennai due to the refusal to release grain stocks by the viceroy. If that was a heartless act, what do we call the happenings in the present-day democratic state, as revealed by valid studies in healthcare?
A census carried out Rupantar using body mass index as a marker in tribal villages of chhatisgarh points out that by WHO standards these villages may be regarded to be in a state of famine. A related study by economist Utsa Patnaik further quantifies this famine state as “getting worse”. Other chronic problems in chhattisgarh were expropritation of common property and dispossession of tribals in the name of development, as global financial capital greedily flowed into this resource-rich region. This was due to the power vested by the doctrine of eminent domain on the State giving it ultimate ownership of all land and natural resources.
Land acquisition by the state was not always a peaceful affair, the authorities gad to do a lot of work and acquire it “literally at gupoint” in Bhansi in south Bastar when Essar and Tata needed the land for proposed development projects. ‘Yes, Bastar had a long history of popular resistance to oppression’, said dr sen, recalling Praveer Chandra Bhanj Deo – the ruler of Bastar in 1960, who resisted and was killed in an unfortunate incident during the chief ministership of DP Mishra.
Anyone who questions the state gets labeled ‘Maoist’. In chhattisgarh, the term includes even self-confessed Gandhians like Himanshu Kumar of the Vanvasi Chetna Ashram, the PUCL, which is only a human rights group, and other ‘pesky PIL-wielding academics’.
Speaking of the disheartened state of resistance movements, as even the NBA – the most vociferous movement witnessed so far - he quoted Prashant Bhushan. ‘Those who are going to become homeless … in this race of so-called development…will be forced to accept the bitter truth that they cannot stop the loot of their lands and resources by any democratic any non-violent means’.
‘…the creation of “physically and mentally hazardous conditions which could put the survival of particular communitiea at risk’ would also come within… genocide’ is the conclusion of Convention on the Prevention of Genocide, 1948. So what is happening in Central India is tantamount to this, we infer.
Even scientific methods to implement a dialogue with the State fail, as evidenced by the case of work on Tuberculosis in Central India. A study done by Jan Swasthya Sahyog (people’s health support group) in 53 forest-relatred villages in central India report an association of low body weight with occurrence of tuberculosis and also to famine conditions. The study urged the State to take an urgent imperative to look into the needs of food for the concerned people, in a scientific manner. However, this study and its recommendation was not incorporated into the fundamental architecture of the National Tuberculosis Programme.
Hearing about these incidents gave the audience an excellent grounding on what journalism could deal with and what were the aspects of politics that journalists would need to look into if they wished to justify the prestige of being called the ‘fourth pillar of democracy’.
16 April 2010
Kite and Sparrow
Kite and Sparrow
There is a story you may have heard before, of how a tiny sparrow won a race against an kite. But the end of the story is usually not narrated and I have tried to do this here. To summarise the first part …
Once Kite and Sparrow got into an argument about which of them can fly the highest. Though the answer seemed obvious to most onlookers, Sparrow was persistent in challenging Kite and so the race began, and the birds settled in very reluctantly to watch, what they thought of as, the foregone conclusions of this impetuous challenge.
Kite was in no mood to waste time – he wanted to close the game and raise his left wing and show that he had won – asap – as they say today!
So he swiftly flew to mid-height and looked around, the sparrow was flying too, just some distance below him. Irked by this, Kite decided - to hell with humility, I will also show this chit of a bird that there is no hope of winning over me. He surged upward to the full, maximum possible height – and drew to a halt, panting with what had been an effort even for such a strong body. He thought he had won – but to his surprise and chagrin the sparrow fluttered above him to finish first!
In his desperation mania to win - he had not noticed that cunning Sparrow had sat on his back all the time, taken a free ride, and when he could do no more - had gone forth to vanquish him!
That is what we know, but the story goes on. To tell it further like it happened…
Kite had spent all his energy in getting to the highest point. He was very tired and was now feeling rather let-down at the thought that this slight creature should have overtaken it.
He glanced balefully at the sparrow and accused, ‘You Cheat!’
As Kite was too breathless to say any more, he made do a cold glare to finish up the accusation. Anyway, the journey to the ground was awaiting now. So, silently, he spread out his wings straight and started dropping to the ground in spirals. He noticed that Sparrow was struggling to glide down. Stopping, Kite said to Sparrow, ‘You know – you are out of your league here! I am king and you had no business to challenge me, and worse cheat me! If I did not let you get away now you could not on your own!’
To this Sparrow replied, ‘I know! But I was tired of having you lord over other birds and dominate the show all the time. We don’t really want to rule, but neither do we want to be your slaves. It’s a free country – and you ought not to brag and bend us to your wish everytime!! You are just a boastful, brawny, bully!’
Kite had been tired out by the flight. That was the only reason he had listened to Sparrow for so long. Now that he had rested a while, his anger grew and made as if to attack Sparrow. He said, ‘You had no business to cheat – whatever be your reason for doing so.’
Sparrow cringed in the face of Kite’s anger and said – ‘Look! My aim was never just to win this race! The only thing I wanted to win was some time with you so that I can have your attention and tell you to stop bragging and chasing and defeating people like us, breaking our spirits and always trying to appear to be a TOSBYPE - The Only Smart, Brave, Young Person on Earth! We never interfere with your plans, so why should you, too, not just let us live the way we want?’
Kite was now a bit confused but still listening. He tried to figure out how much effort Sparrow had put into flying and at what level she had resorted to cunning. Could it be that she was speaking the truth and that she had only wanted to deliver the message of liberty and peace as she professed?
Sparrow noted the doubt bubbling over Kite’s face expressions and knew she would never succeed in convincing, or even just communicating with, Kite whose only aim in life was to be Numero Uno – the winner – always.
She also knew that from this height in the skies, there was no way she was capable of descending to the ground without being vanquished by the squally winds and rough return flight. So in a last-ditch effort, she said, ‘I know that in truth I have lost this challenge – really – because I have lost my main goal – of getting you alone and telling you to let live. But I will show you that I meant every word – I am now going to go down, and I am not going to even attempt a safe return. To concede my defeat, I am going to drop from here like a stone’. Saying this, she mutinously folded her wings tightly about herself, and holding her breath like a stubborn child, fell, before the stunned Kite could say as much as, “wha...”!’
She dropped, dropped and further dropped, her speed increasing as she gained momentum. The skies fell behind and the ground, and sure death, approached quickly.
Kite could not believe his eyes, but all in a flash, something broke inside his mind. His heart was struck by a bolt of emotion and the bird equivalent of tears rushed to his head! Springing from his inactive state, he swooped down to the falling sparrow’s level. Being a bird of prey, Kite had sharp eyes to spot falling target prey and had no difficulty in spotting where Sparrow was heading. In a second he plunged below the tiny Sparrow and scooped her up swiftly but softly, too, on his feathery back.
It took a while for Sparrow to even open her eyes. She was in shock, trembling and sobbing silently at the near-death experience she had undergone. For a long time, she did not realise that she had been saved, and one can only guess whether she was wondering if she was dead or alive, in heaven or hell… Kite had brought her to the ground and gently deposited her on top of a haystack. Having done this, he had settled on the branch of a thick-trunked tree which grew at the level of Sparrow’s haystack. He now stood there with a strangely fearfilled expression in his kite eyes, awaiting Sparrow’s recovery.
Sparrow came to, finally, and eyed Kite unblinkingly. It was now Sparrow’s turn to be puzzled. She had never before been this close to Kite, to any kite, for that matter, and to have the latter watching her with such strange concern was simply mind-boggling and even a little soul-stirring! Sparrow was a sensible bird, though, and quite had her feet on the ground. She told itself not to imagine problems that did not exist. Yet, she was unable to trust the strong bully completely and put on a grim expression, which she hoped mirrored her inner strength of conviction. ‘Why did you have to rescue me?’ she asked coldly, ‘I am just one of many who fall under the strenuous race you guys make us run!’
Kite was totally regretting having got into this. He was now almost embarrassed at having done this insignificant creature a good turn. He had a thousand other things to do – places to visit, countries to explore, stories to collect, and so on, even apart from eating and living, which was all these little birds ever did! ‘I suppose I was not too tired to watch you fall down and shatter to silly pieces. I see now it was probably a silly and thankless effort. Now, you just forget it, and I have to go’. Though he spoke these words, he did not immediately take off. He still felt there was something left to be said and tilted his head to one side, looking down with one eye and wondering what it was he wished to say.
Sparrow could see that the big bird was really tired, despite his boastful attitude of strength. She observed the other silently and took in the lines of dust weaving through his feathers and even saw some imperfect broken tips to the wing and tail feathers. From here, Kite looked older and very much wiser than she had thought, as if he were meditating on something very profound.
Sparrow lost her belligerence as it saw Kite this way – to her mind – appearing somewhat vulnerable.
‘Well!’ said the ever-cunning Sparrow, deciding to strike when it was hot, ‘Thanks for saving my life! Now you know, don’t you, that there are good things to be brought about, other than flying high, being alone and proving that Only You Can?’
Hearing the edge to Sparrow’s voice, Kite made a speedy recovery! ‘I am sure you are about to enlighten me. Tell me, what matters more than winning – whining??’ He asked, almost knowing what her reply would be.
‘Look around you! There is so much to do in this world! You can grow stuff, you can build stuff, you can care for stuff, nurture others! There’s friendship and community! You can teach! You can empower! You can share your knowledge and the fruits of your success! Make everyone happy!’
‘M..hm…’ was the kite’s back-to-laconic response, ‘Let’s go and do that, by all means!’
‘Let’s? That’s a new word I’m hearing from you!’ Said Sparrow cheekily, knowing now that she had an audience.
Kite may have felt it was best to strike a deal now when he still had a chance to commit to as little as he needed to. Anyway, what followed surprised Sparrow as much as it did the other birds!
Kite said, ‘Yes, let’s do that together! Both of us and more of us! Let’s find a beautiful spot and I’ll do what I do best – fly high and teach other birds how to do that. I will teach every bird my secrets of achieving a great flight, conquering fear, handling sudden emergencies, whatever it takes to go far and gain knowledge and wisdom! You teach us the meanings that you are speaking so profoundly about! Speak to us about sharing our world. Tell us how people live and what communities are all about. Let us build – like you said and not bicker with each other for the first place… Okay?’ The kite was unable to stop speaking, having started. The normally laconic king-bird was looking almost bubbly, like a teenage mynah.
‘Right-ho let’s be neighbours by all means’, said Sparrow cautiously, as she was wont to be.
And at this point, a slow, cool, breeze set in, which ruffled the leaves of the tree, as if to welcome this, new, bonding.
There is a story you may have heard before, of how a tiny sparrow won a race against an kite. But the end of the story is usually not narrated and I have tried to do this here. To summarise the first part …
Once Kite and Sparrow got into an argument about which of them can fly the highest. Though the answer seemed obvious to most onlookers, Sparrow was persistent in challenging Kite and so the race began, and the birds settled in very reluctantly to watch, what they thought of as, the foregone conclusions of this impetuous challenge.
Kite was in no mood to waste time – he wanted to close the game and raise his left wing and show that he had won – asap – as they say today!
So he swiftly flew to mid-height and looked around, the sparrow was flying too, just some distance below him. Irked by this, Kite decided - to hell with humility, I will also show this chit of a bird that there is no hope of winning over me. He surged upward to the full, maximum possible height – and drew to a halt, panting with what had been an effort even for such a strong body. He thought he had won – but to his surprise and chagrin the sparrow fluttered above him to finish first!
In his desperation mania to win - he had not noticed that cunning Sparrow had sat on his back all the time, taken a free ride, and when he could do no more - had gone forth to vanquish him!
That is what we know, but the story goes on. To tell it further like it happened…
Kite had spent all his energy in getting to the highest point. He was very tired and was now feeling rather let-down at the thought that this slight creature should have overtaken it.
He glanced balefully at the sparrow and accused, ‘You Cheat!’
As Kite was too breathless to say any more, he made do a cold glare to finish up the accusation. Anyway, the journey to the ground was awaiting now. So, silently, he spread out his wings straight and started dropping to the ground in spirals. He noticed that Sparrow was struggling to glide down. Stopping, Kite said to Sparrow, ‘You know – you are out of your league here! I am king and you had no business to challenge me, and worse cheat me! If I did not let you get away now you could not on your own!’
To this Sparrow replied, ‘I know! But I was tired of having you lord over other birds and dominate the show all the time. We don’t really want to rule, but neither do we want to be your slaves. It’s a free country – and you ought not to brag and bend us to your wish everytime!! You are just a boastful, brawny, bully!’
Kite had been tired out by the flight. That was the only reason he had listened to Sparrow for so long. Now that he had rested a while, his anger grew and made as if to attack Sparrow. He said, ‘You had no business to cheat – whatever be your reason for doing so.’
Sparrow cringed in the face of Kite’s anger and said – ‘Look! My aim was never just to win this race! The only thing I wanted to win was some time with you so that I can have your attention and tell you to stop bragging and chasing and defeating people like us, breaking our spirits and always trying to appear to be a TOSBYPE - The Only Smart, Brave, Young Person on Earth! We never interfere with your plans, so why should you, too, not just let us live the way we want?’
Kite was now a bit confused but still listening. He tried to figure out how much effort Sparrow had put into flying and at what level she had resorted to cunning. Could it be that she was speaking the truth and that she had only wanted to deliver the message of liberty and peace as she professed?
Sparrow noted the doubt bubbling over Kite’s face expressions and knew she would never succeed in convincing, or even just communicating with, Kite whose only aim in life was to be Numero Uno – the winner – always.
She also knew that from this height in the skies, there was no way she was capable of descending to the ground without being vanquished by the squally winds and rough return flight. So in a last-ditch effort, she said, ‘I know that in truth I have lost this challenge – really – because I have lost my main goal – of getting you alone and telling you to let live. But I will show you that I meant every word – I am now going to go down, and I am not going to even attempt a safe return. To concede my defeat, I am going to drop from here like a stone’. Saying this, she mutinously folded her wings tightly about herself, and holding her breath like a stubborn child, fell, before the stunned Kite could say as much as, “wha...”!’
She dropped, dropped and further dropped, her speed increasing as she gained momentum. The skies fell behind and the ground, and sure death, approached quickly.
Kite could not believe his eyes, but all in a flash, something broke inside his mind. His heart was struck by a bolt of emotion and the bird equivalent of tears rushed to his head! Springing from his inactive state, he swooped down to the falling sparrow’s level. Being a bird of prey, Kite had sharp eyes to spot falling target prey and had no difficulty in spotting where Sparrow was heading. In a second he plunged below the tiny Sparrow and scooped her up swiftly but softly, too, on his feathery back.
It took a while for Sparrow to even open her eyes. She was in shock, trembling and sobbing silently at the near-death experience she had undergone. For a long time, she did not realise that she had been saved, and one can only guess whether she was wondering if she was dead or alive, in heaven or hell… Kite had brought her to the ground and gently deposited her on top of a haystack. Having done this, he had settled on the branch of a thick-trunked tree which grew at the level of Sparrow’s haystack. He now stood there with a strangely fearfilled expression in his kite eyes, awaiting Sparrow’s recovery.
Sparrow came to, finally, and eyed Kite unblinkingly. It was now Sparrow’s turn to be puzzled. She had never before been this close to Kite, to any kite, for that matter, and to have the latter watching her with such strange concern was simply mind-boggling and even a little soul-stirring! Sparrow was a sensible bird, though, and quite had her feet on the ground. She told itself not to imagine problems that did not exist. Yet, she was unable to trust the strong bully completely and put on a grim expression, which she hoped mirrored her inner strength of conviction. ‘Why did you have to rescue me?’ she asked coldly, ‘I am just one of many who fall under the strenuous race you guys make us run!’
Kite was totally regretting having got into this. He was now almost embarrassed at having done this insignificant creature a good turn. He had a thousand other things to do – places to visit, countries to explore, stories to collect, and so on, even apart from eating and living, which was all these little birds ever did! ‘I suppose I was not too tired to watch you fall down and shatter to silly pieces. I see now it was probably a silly and thankless effort. Now, you just forget it, and I have to go’. Though he spoke these words, he did not immediately take off. He still felt there was something left to be said and tilted his head to one side, looking down with one eye and wondering what it was he wished to say.
Sparrow could see that the big bird was really tired, despite his boastful attitude of strength. She observed the other silently and took in the lines of dust weaving through his feathers and even saw some imperfect broken tips to the wing and tail feathers. From here, Kite looked older and very much wiser than she had thought, as if he were meditating on something very profound.
Sparrow lost her belligerence as it saw Kite this way – to her mind – appearing somewhat vulnerable.
‘Well!’ said the ever-cunning Sparrow, deciding to strike when it was hot, ‘Thanks for saving my life! Now you know, don’t you, that there are good things to be brought about, other than flying high, being alone and proving that Only You Can?’
Hearing the edge to Sparrow’s voice, Kite made a speedy recovery! ‘I am sure you are about to enlighten me. Tell me, what matters more than winning – whining??’ He asked, almost knowing what her reply would be.
‘Look around you! There is so much to do in this world! You can grow stuff, you can build stuff, you can care for stuff, nurture others! There’s friendship and community! You can teach! You can empower! You can share your knowledge and the fruits of your success! Make everyone happy!’
‘M..hm…’ was the kite’s back-to-laconic response, ‘Let’s go and do that, by all means!’
‘Let’s? That’s a new word I’m hearing from you!’ Said Sparrow cheekily, knowing now that she had an audience.
Kite may have felt it was best to strike a deal now when he still had a chance to commit to as little as he needed to. Anyway, what followed surprised Sparrow as much as it did the other birds!
Kite said, ‘Yes, let’s do that together! Both of us and more of us! Let’s find a beautiful spot and I’ll do what I do best – fly high and teach other birds how to do that. I will teach every bird my secrets of achieving a great flight, conquering fear, handling sudden emergencies, whatever it takes to go far and gain knowledge and wisdom! You teach us the meanings that you are speaking so profoundly about! Speak to us about sharing our world. Tell us how people live and what communities are all about. Let us build – like you said and not bicker with each other for the first place… Okay?’ The kite was unable to stop speaking, having started. The normally laconic king-bird was looking almost bubbly, like a teenage mynah.
‘Right-ho let’s be neighbours by all means’, said Sparrow cautiously, as she was wont to be.
And at this point, a slow, cool, breeze set in, which ruffled the leaves of the tree, as if to welcome this, new, bonding.
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