Book Review: Pather Panchali (Song of the Road)

Title: Pather Panchali
Author: Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay
Translated By: T.W. Clark and Tarapada Mukherji
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers

Anyone in India who is remotely a movie buff has heard about “Pather Panchali” if not watched it. A movie directed by Satyajit Ray which shone as a lone beacon of light for Indian Cinema for quite some time. I had heard the story of ”Pather Panchali” from my grandfather when I was about 8 years old. My grandfather could read Bengali and therefore I had heard the actual translation of the original book in the setting of my village. What a story it was? A village never came to life so well in front of my eyes as I had heard my grandfather reading out the story to me. As a child I imagined seeing Opu in the face of the son of one of the farmers working for my grandfather.

Time has flown and that innocence is lost now. Some weeks back I came to see the English translation of “Pather Panchali” and pounced upon the book. Actually it was Vidisha who had pounced upon the book, but that was only because she was standing near the book :P

“Pather Panchali” is a masterpiece of Bengali writer Bibutibhushan Bandyopadhyay.It was first published as a set of periodicals in 1928 which was later put together as a book in 1929. "Pather" means the path or journey while "Panchali" means a folk poem/song, which can be put loosely as "Song of the Road". The story also glides like a river that's flowing in a pleasant manner with the path that's been beautifully described. The story was originally written in Bengali.. Set in pre-independence India in a picturesque village called Nischindpur, the work is a loose collection of stories from the perspective of Opu and Durga, the children of a poor Brahmin family struggling to survive, plagued by poverty, mother nature and the cruelty of unsympathetic neighbors. We experience rural village life in India through the two young siblings. Though poor and relentlessly teased, Opu and Durga find joy and wonderment in everyday life. Durga, who is constantly derided, often beaten, never quite loved -- is especially heartbreaking. Because she is a girl, she never gets as much food, is berated for not doing housework, is never taught to read, and lives a solitary existence. In other ways, the story plainly captures the ways in which women were powerless and utterly mistreated.

The character of Shorbojoya who is the mother of the two lovely children is very well etched. One can feel the pain of the mother as she walks on the tight rope of life struggling to provide for her two children while her husband Horihor wonders about trying to search for a job as a Brahmin. There are days when Shorbojoya has nothing to offer as food to the children, but just like Devi Annapurna, she conjures up some food which might just be leaves boiled in water for her children. The children are not the epitome of good behavior either but their naughtiness is so lovable that you feel for them. There is the naughty Durga who loiters around the village searching for wild berries, potatoes and fruits. Durga is the quintessential free-spirited girl who refuses to be never bogged down by the difficulties and is presented as a cheerful and happy-go-lucky kind of girl. She has her own shortcomings; especially her propensity to steal things. She doesn't mind taking away the things which she likes very much such as mangoes from trees of other family people of the village; the bead necklace from her neighbors etc. But she has a good and kind heart. Then there is the studious Opu who is good at heart, self-read and shy to an extreme fault. There is a story of Durga offering a berry to little Opu who finds it bitter, but Durga insists that it’s not completely bitter, there is a slight aftertaste of sweetness which according to her qualifies it to be a very good berry. This shows the poverty in which Durga has grown up. A berry which is supposed to be unpalatable tastes sweet to her because she has never tasted anything sweeter than this bitter sweet berry in her life. Similarly when Opu joins his father who is performing Puja in the house of a rich patron and gets offered sweets made with coconut, he cannot believe that something as good as this even exists and initially thinks of gobbling up all of the sweets but then his thought goes out to his elder sister Durga and his mother. He saves some of the sweets because he knows, neither of them would have ever tasted something as heavenly as a coconut sweet.

The book describes the serene setting of the village in an absolute stunning way. I have spent many a summer and winter vacations during my school days in my village and can vouch for the authenticity of the description in the book.

 The people are invariably poor but nevertheless content with their lives. Everyone knows each other in the village. A joy for one family is the source of joy for the whole village. A tragedy for one family is the source of sadness for the whole village. Time is measured not by the tick tocks of a watch but by the position of the shadows of a tree. "Jatra" (Stage Drama) day is the happiest day for each and everyone in the village. Bathing means bathing together with half the village population sharing the pond with you and catching up on all manners of gossip. A rain storm though brings a smile on the face of a farmer also is the reason for an additional crease line on the forehead as it is followed by swarms of children raiding the mango trees for any mangoes which have fallen down. God, I miss my village so much.

I have taken care in writing this review and there are no spoiler alerts needed. This is one book which will remain close to my heart forever. My all-time favorite book until now was “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Fin”....but now I can safely say it is “Pather Panchali”.....In fact I can say, this book is to the Indian child what The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Fin is to an American child.

A must must must read. A definite must read for every fan of Indian literature. It left me in tears as the last pages came to an end. Go ahead and walk the roads of Nischindpur in rural Bengal, while I’m busy kicking myself for not having read this novel earlier. The story is a simple expression of human interactions and emotions that has been presented beautifully and poignantly.

Office Promotion Party - Vivanta by Taj - Fisherman's Cove

The year 2013 had begun with a lot of uncertainties. People were worried about how long would our project MedImmune hold on to its fort after AstraZeneca had decided to merge IT operations of both Medi and AZ.

But the team and all its team members nevertheless gave their best shot and were rewarded by the higher management with a slew of promotions.

The 7 lucky ones were:

•     Rathnaraj
•     Lekshmi Priya
•     Sairam
•     Kiruthika
•     Amalraj
•     Ram Narendran
•     Sarvana Balaji

So they got promoted and get to change their signatures while the rest of us had to be satisfied with just the hike…not fair…

It’s our sovereign duty to make these privileged few regret the fact that they got promoted in the first place…..

How do you make them regret without making it obvious to them…..

Of Course, plan for a party…..feed the goat….before you slaughter it…..

which in our case is….let them feed the team……and then let them get slaughtered by the bill

Taj Fisherman's Cove

The venue was the luxurious resort of the Taj group in Chennai.

The beach with its outcroppings of rocks made it one of the best beaches I have seen in Chennai

The clean waters  and the absence of crowds made each of us connect with nature after a long time.

The beach was strewn with pristine white seashells instead of the litter which is so common in Chennai. However the seashells  made walking on the beach a tough task.

  

Time for some history lessons my friends. The above image is a plaque commemorating the rich history of this area.

Cricket is not a game in India. It is a religion and we boys are religious.

The boys ready to start with a game of hard fought cricket.

Girls can never be far behind us boys. Here are the girls of our team, playing a mixture, of handball, football and volley ball all rolled into one :)

Unfortunately a six hit by one of the MedImmune Tendulkars, caused our ball to be lost in the dense undergrowth surrounding the beach.

Cricket had to be abandoned midway after this. However my team had won the first match courtsey a last ball 4 by who else but me :) :) 

The team back in the dressing room...hmmm the huts :)

Having a cuppa of piping hot coffee and tea along with snacks. We really need the energy before we plunged into the team games soon afterwards.

Two of our Middleware team stalwarts, Sanjay and Dhana overlooking the arrangements of snacks. 

Games committee coordinators Lekshmi Priya and Sridhar checking the last minute details and preparing for the team building games.

Lakshmi seems to be warning her team, "listen guys I am the only lady in this games team, so you better give me chances to play otherwise........"

That's my team comprising of Joseph, Uma, Sanjay, Suganthi and me of course, waiting for Sridhar to explain the rules of the game before we begin.

One of the other teams comprising of Moyeesan, Suganthi, Ram, Saravanan and Rajesh. They seem ready to fight it out to win the games.

Team 3 comprising of Cynthia, Amal, Sridhar, Sarvanan and Sairam. Amal seems to be laughing his guts out....wonder what the joke was :)

 

Don't ask me what in God's name is Suhas trying to explain here .......My guess is some form of wild Jhinga La La dance :P

 

That's Rajesh motivating his team with a stern talk. Guys am gonna explain this once and you better understand. Otherwise you guys are going to get the hell from me......We have to win this game no matter what happens....Give it your best shot....nay..give it your winning shot

 

To all those people who do not understand what Raj seems to be saying.....here's my translation........
"Look everyone....Is it a bird....Is it a plane....nooooo....Its Superman...flying past Chennai......"

Cynthia explaining her long term strategy about Project profitability and Utilization ratio viz a viz the project
to a bewildered looking Suhas 

 

 












 


How can we leave Cynthia out of all this fun :) :)

So here are Cynthia's words paraphrased......

"Every one...look at me..I am going to explain some important management concepts...

Srinam...I hope you are clicking my pictures....

Allright....our project is taking a hit because of all these new client policies...

Project Pyramid needs to be aligned based on the organizational mandates....."

At the end of all the talk.....

Sairam seems to be having a nervous smile....not quiet sure...if he understood the words.....

Joseph is too excited to understand any of this....and 

Suhas....seems to be wondering aloud...."Ehhhh!!!! Pyramids are in Egypt right...Is our base location moving to Egypt"

Now its the turn of SB....Are you asking...what is this....Well my guess...this is a new dance form comprising of the dance moves of Rajnikant, MGR and Vijaykant all rolled into one :)

The best game of the lot...a hilarious version of Blind mans buff.... with used of words like......

"Aailye, Maayile, Kilyie, Aayieo...Eeiyuo...Aaloo..Bonda "

 All of the above being codewords for different directions....

This was a game you had to play to enjoy...I am not able to do justice to the game by writing about it :)

 

Team MedImmune

But as all good things come to end, our wonderful evening out had to come to an end. I am sure each one of us enjoyed the outing a lot and would love to have many more such parties in the future.

Kudos to Raj for the extensive planning in choosing the five star venue which was the Taj Groups Fisherman's Cove resort in Chennai.

Kudos to the games committee consisting of the affable Sridhar and ever smiling Lekshmi who had meticulously planned some great team games for all of us.

Kudos to our manager, Cynthia for getting the requisite permissions from the higher bosses so that the team could take off post lunch on a working day.

Kudos to the gr8 country called US of A for celebrating its Independence on 4th of July which allowed the team to have a relaxing day.

Kudos to all the members of Team MedImmune who participated so enthusiastically in the party and the games.

Kudos to our 7 generous patrons who forked out 35000 bucks for this extravaganza.

Last but not the least kudos to the blogger, Maverick, who took the day off to write this blog post :)

As always mentioned in all my posts containing images of other people....here's the warning.....

"All the images and comments have been pre-approved by Rajnikant Sir.....so you cannot raise objections" 

Book Review: Between Clay and Dust

 

Title: Between Clay and Dust

Author: Musharraf Ali Farooqi

Publisher: Aleph Book Company

 

Musharraf Ali Farooqi is a Pakistani author of considerable repute. His writings are sensitive and portray human emotions in a beautiful muted way. Nothing garish and never too loud. They are written with so much politeness that you almost feel you are watching the story unfold in front of you.

Between Clay and Dust is set in an unnamed city in Pakistan and the plot revolves around a wrestler trying hard to save the dying art of wrestling and a middle aged courtesan whose "kotha" once welcomed lords of the land but is now in danger of being shut down. The period is just after independence i.e. circa 1947.

 

The main characters are:

Ustad Ramzi is the no nonsense, hugely respected champion undefeated wrestler who is fast slipping into middle age. His life’s mission is to find a worthy successor who will protect the title of champion wrestler for his clan’s “akhara”.

Tamami is the hard working younger brother of Ustad Ramzi, a wrestler in his own right but never up to the high standards expected by his elder brother. He tries hard almost too hard to meet the expectations of that one person he adores the most, his brother, but slips into oblivion.

Gohar Jan is the beautiful and large hearted courtesan who is fast slipping into the wrong side of age. She is the owner of the one of last remaining Kotha’s which is the haunt of the lords of the land. A singer par excellence, she is lonely at heart and knows that her Kotha might shut down anytime.

 

The relationship shared between champion wrestler Ramzi and the beautiful Gohar is heartwarming to say the least. Old school romance at its best. The reader bears witness to this unusual, unspoken bond that grows between the celibate wrestler and the elegant courtesan, both past their prime.

The setting for the plot is perfect and the characters so well etched that you feel for each of them. The words are eloquent, the style is fluid and the story really heartfelt.

 

Highly recommend the book.

Innocence At Its Best

I call up my mother everyday as I know she feels restless if she does not speak with me. Yesterday I had called her up as usual at 8:30 PM and to my surprise my niece picked up the phone (she must have won the race to the landline telephone beating my mother to it). My niece, Titiksha, is three and a half years old and seldom talks to me over the phone except whenever she feels like reciting the latest poem she has learned at playschool.

After first complaining that "Maa, is not allowing me to see Chota Bheem on TV", she asked if she can ask a question. When I replied in the affirmative. Pat came the query, "Where is the new little baby, who was supposed to come to your house?"

The question was asked with so much of innocence that I could not help smiling. She must have been thinking about asking this to me for quiet sometime, however she must have been asked never to ask this question  to either me or Vidisha by my brother and sister in law after our daughter Mayra passed away.. Finally she had got the opportunity to ask this question and her curiosity got the better of her.

I had still not replied to her, when she repeated the question again. I told her, the baby went back away as she did not like our house.

Hmmm!! She mulled over my answer for a couple of seconds before telling, "Don't worry a new baby will come over soon who will like your house".

Innocence at its best...I sure hope her words are true.

A Father's Obituary For A Daughter

Life has a way of passing by silently leaving you open mouthed and speechless sometimes. I have been away from my blog for quite some time now because of something similar in my life. 

The year 2013 began on a happy and expectant note for the both of us. Vidisha and I were expecting our first child and we were a bundle of nerves. I had sent away Vidisha to Kanpur so that she would be taken care off at my in-laws place. After all the first pregnancy of a woman is a time when she needs the utmost care and what better place to be taken care off and pampered than in your own home.

They say, a man learns about parenthood when he holds his first child in his arms while a woman learns about motherhood when the child kicks for the first time in her womb. Vidisha gave birth to a baby girl on 6th March 2013. I had missed the birth of my child because I was stuck in Chennai with office work. However, I booked my flight ticket and landed in Kanpur a day later on the 7th of March. I could not take my eyes off my little bundle of joy. She was so pretty. So tiny. So cute. So very special.

Vidisha was very tired but both of us could not help smiling and crying at the same time as we saw our first born sleeping there peacefully. I was the happiest MAN on the planet then and I am sure Vidisha was the happiest WOMAN.

We named her ‘Mayra’ which meant loved by everyone and gave her the nick name ‘Sia’. We were weaving dreams around our child and were looking forward to bringing her to Chennai in a couple of month’s time. I had planned to paint the spare bedroom pink for her. Buy tons and tons of toys for her. Leave office early everyday just to watch little Mayra sleep. I wanted to watch her crawl, standup, stumble and walk in front of my eyes.

But alas, life has its own strange way of playing cruel games with us, of shattering our dreams and leaving us disillusioned with our own life. I had taken a flight from Lucknow to Chennai early morning at 5:00 AM on 13th March. I had hugged my child lightly and my wife tightly. I had taken care not to wake little Mayra before I bid adieu to her. It was the most difficult goodbye of my life. I simply did not want to leave sight of Mayra.

I landed in Chennai at 3:00 PM and turned on my phone after getting off the flight. I was stunned and could not believe the words which were being spoken to me by Ashok uncle. "Mayra is no more" How could that be possible? She was hale and hearty in the morning barely 10 hours ago. But it was the truth. The bitter truth. The wail that escaped Vidisha when I spoke with her a minute later was heart rending. Her tears of anguish, that afternoon, is something which will haunt me forever the rest of my life.

Mayra had breathing problems earlier that afternoon and by the time she was rushed to the hospital it was all over.

Vidisha came back to be with me almost immediately after this unfortunate event. Her tears every night burned my cheeks. I could not cry like her for I had to remain strong for the sake of both of us. I used to wait for Vidisha to cry herself to sleep every night before I could allow the luxury of silent tears to myself.

Life has lost its sheen for us. Our dreams have been shattered. However life must go on. We have picked up whatever remains of our shattered life and decided to place our belief on the adage, "Whatever happens, happens for the best."

It is nearing 3 months now since she left us. I could not summon myself to write about her up until now. However I have realized that life is like a book which has a new story to tell when we turn over the page.

We miss you....We really miss you Mayra....

 Dear God,

Please take care of our little girl,

The one with big eyes and soft curls.

She was special, as you should know,

We really didn't want to let her go but we had to....

R.I.P Mayra Misra

March 6, 2013 - March 13, 2013

We hold you close within our hearts,

and there you will remain,

to walk with us throughout our lives

until we meet again...

Book Review: Ayodhya: The Dark Night

Title: Ayodhya: The Dark Night

Summary: The Secret History of Rama's Appearance in Babri Masjid

Author: Krishna Jha & Dhirendra K. Jha

I just finished reading this book titled Ayodhya: The Dark Night. I would recommend this book to every Indian for the very simple reason to understand about the politics which we are experiencing now.

In fact how many of us actually know about some of these facts:

•  Ram Lalla never appeared miraculously in side the Babri Masjid, as held in popular belief. It was a vairagi by the name of Abhiram Das who actually placed the statues clandestinely.
• BJP was created by members of Congress Party who were Hindu Fundamentalists against the secularism preached by Gandhi and Nehru.
• The Hindu Mahasabha was the organization behind the Mahatma's assassination although for some strange reasons it could never be proved.
• People in the Mahasabha were opportunists whose only fundamental thought process was to make Muslims in India second class citizens.
• Nehru had the guts to kick the behinds of the perpetrators and was never weak as commonly understood by modern day Indian youth.

That was the Anti- Modi side of me ranting about facts. Anyways the book  throws some much needed light on the true history of the Hindu parties of India.

The systematic planned degradation of Muslims  in post -partition India and especially Ayodhya is really eye opening. The narrative is breathtaking and has been painstakingly put together by the authors Krishna Jha and Dhirendra k. Jha who have interviewed the survivors of that clandestine plan.

The Hindu Mahasabha which had been linked to the Mahatma Gandhi assassination's had its back broken post that ghastly act by the combined effect of the Nehru/Patel led investigations and the popular discontent of the masses. I mean look at their thought process. They were under the impression they would first kill Gandhi ji and then follow it with a pogrom against the Muslims and in turn make India a Hindu "only" country. This was supposed to endear them to the masses and win them the elections. However their plans were decimated but they were not to be kept quiet for too long. They then hit on the golden plan of converting the mosque into a temple and strike the communal chord again. The book details the plans of how this was all done.

The book doesn't touch on the fact whether there was a temple originally there or not. 

But hell, who cares, there was a place of worship there and it was desecrated on 22 Dec 1949 and later razed to the ground in 06 Dec 1992.

 All in all a nice book to read if you want to know about the truth about Indian politics.

Book Review - Dozakhnama: Conversations in Hell

Title: Dozakhnama: Conversations in Hell

Author: Rabisankar Bal

Translator: Arunava Sinha

To be honest the book had me just after I read its name, "Dozakhnama: Conversations in Hell"....Dozakhnama....what an interesting sounding word.

I had mixed feeling of should I buy this to read or look for something else to read in Landmark, Chennai. The reason for the mixed feelings were unambiguous.....the book was a translation from the original Bengali to English by a guy called Arunava Sinha.....Hmmmm translations I have come across those....and some of them are seriously crap. I had once purchased an English translation of Nirmala by Munshi Premchand....Believe me the translator had RAPED English language in the book.... I had put down the book after reading just 2 pages even after I had spent 200 bucks on it..Till date I haven't read Nirmala :(

But when I read the book's jacket....I knew I cannot miss this one...It had the names of two of India's greatest ever writers in it....One who's ghazal's these days seem to be remembered only by alcoholics and the other ....well modern India doesn't even know that he was an Indian.

Mirza Ghalib

I am talking of Mirza Ghalib and Sadat Hasan Manto. One who was ridiculed during his living days as a writer of incomprehensible poetry and the other who was hounded throughout his life for writing and had the temerity to order his epitaph to read "....Under tons of earth he lies, still wondering who among the two is greater short-story writer: God or He.”

Let me confess here, I am a huge huge HUGE fan of Sadat Hasan Manto....I will definitely write an essay on him, whenever I get the time

Sadat Hasan Manto

Well back to the book review, the book begins with an old man handing a young journalist a manuscript which according to him is the last writing of Manto. The journalist cannot read Urdu and therefore takes the manuscript to a well-read young lady to translate to English.....

Here begins the story....

Manto has died and decides to talk to the one person he looked up to all his life.....Mirza Ghalib....Yes, my friends, they are two human beings who died 100 years apart and they are having a conversation....from their graves and let me tell you the conversation is witty, intellectual, peppered with historical true facts and describes the life and times of 1840's as well as 1940's India.

The book tells the story of the Mirza Ghalib who lost his father in a war thereby leaving Mirza and his mother without a house. Mirza grows up without a father figure in his life as he lives with his maternal grandparents. The obsession of owning a house can be felt throughout the novel with Mirza ultimately dying without owning a house himself. The book paints a very different picture of the 1857 revolt which had been witnessed first-hand by Mirza. Peppered with ghazals and small anecdotes the writing is exquisite.

Now coming to Manto's part of the book. Manto shows his irascible self. His obsession with prostitutes and his justification of "there needs to be someone there to write down a dream of a prostitute" makes him all the more endearing. Manto had an equally interesting life and describes life in pre-partition India and then Pakistan. The stories and anecdotes including intercepts from his banned story, "Thanda Gosth",are each a gem worth treasuring for life.

The book has alternating chapters with Mato followed by Ghalib talking to each other. Each chapter carries forward the timeline with short stories and anecdotes. So in a way it can be said to be an anthology of stories too. However a word of advice, the book is heavy reading and not something which can be considered to be popcorn fiction. How I wished I knew Urdu to read the ghazals written in the book. Although trust me the English translations are equally well written. The stories in the book grow on you as you read them...

If I needed to choose sides, then my choice for obvious reasons will be the Manto part of the book. As according to me, Sadat Hasan Manto was one of the greatest storytellers of pre-partition unified India. An author whom India consciously removed from its consciousness and an author whom Pakistan never accepted as one of its own.

The book as I have already mentioned was written in Bengali and translated to English by Arunava Sinha. While we need to bow our heads before the author, Rabisankar Bal, for having the vision to write this...I would like to doff my hat to Arunava Sinha, the translator of this book. Let me put down in writing, never ever has a translation from a regional language to English been done so beautifully.

This is a book I will treasure throughout my life and will definitely be reading again and again.