Nilim Kumar
Translated from original Asomiya by
Dibyajyoti Sarma
In great secrecy within her bosom
Blooms a red hibiscus
When the driblets of petals
Falls on the ground
Weeping, she informs her mother
For seven days and seven nights she does not show
Her face to sun, moon and stars
For seven days and seven nights she drinks succus of soil
Near her head on an earthen bed waits a clay lamp
Over a pot-full of rice
Women arrive, arrive buzzing females
Chanting, they fill the pots with flowing water
Hiding behind the water ferns the small fishes
Listen to the distaff hymns
Within a holy enclosure a banana sapling converts into a bridegroom
With sesame seed and turmeric the women bathe both
Carrying in each hands pot full of flowing water
She adorns a garland of beads
On the sapling’s neck
Two gust of winds of two hands the banana sapling
Graces her hair
Wearing a red dress she touches the soil
Corn seeds fill her lap
Weeps alone the very bottom of her heart
That night entered some fireflies
Into her heart
Someone takes away
And buries the banana sapling behind the house
Enwrapping wind on the infant leaves
I was a banana sapling
On her puberty
Friday, August 25, 2006
Beastly Tales from everywhere
One of the most famous passages of George Orwell’s Animal Farm reads: ‘All animals are equal. But some animals are more equal than others.’ The novel tells the story of a group of domestic animals, led by a pig called Napoleon, who decide to take over the management of the farm from their human master. In the context of the story, the above sentence talks about the cunning and selfish nature of Napoleon, who started a revolutionary only to satisfy his own ego at the expense of his fellow animals. Probe deeper and another picture emerge. Napoleon begins to look like Stalin and the farm, Russia, and Orwell’s commentary, a criticism against the totalitarian regime. This duel meaning in fiction, especially fiction with animals as protagonists is called 'allegory' or 'fable.'
Take for example, stories from Panchatantra or Aesop’s fables. It was the ‘original fantasy,’ making animals behave like human, giving them thought and speech, and all the follies and foible of human kind. Animals of these stories create a parallel universe of their own, an animal kingdom. As children, we enjoyed them at face value. We loved the innocent deer and hated the cunning fox. As we grew up, we tried to infuse reality to these stories and found that these animals are actually human beings in disguise and all their action resemble a human pattern.
This is how George Orwell’s classic Animal Farm works.
But why animals? It’s a romantic notion that nature’s law is equal to everyone. It’s a search for utopia of equality where human world is pitted against animal world. Therefore, in Chronicles of Narnia, it is the lion Aslan who must overthrow the power of the White Witch. It’s a bunny rabbit that leads Alice into wonderful adventures in Lewis Carol’s Alice in Wonderland. (But what happens when a shark gets murderous as in Peter Benchley’s Jaws?)
However the question remains whether the allegorical aspect to animal actions mars the beauty of the story, or whether all stories about animals must have a duel meaning.
Rudyard Kipling in Jungle Book achieved giving animals a separate identity without any dependency to allegory. Balu the bear, Baghira the leopard are real animals, they do not carry any human aspect in them (except probably their love for Mougly); so are the pack of wolves and their leader Akela, and the tiger Sher Khan. In Kipling’s animal kingdom, human exists, but only on the fringe. And the story starts when a human child comes to live in jungle.
Richard Adams takes animal protagonists in Watership Down to another level. A story about a few talkative rabbits in search of a new warren, in the novel, we meet Hazel, Fiver and Bigwig as rabbits on a perilous journey. Here, human exists too, but as enemies. The novel is a Lord of the Rings of the rabbits. The author describes the rabbit world with detailed authenticity, complete with rabbit talks with a ‘lapin glossary,’ and bunny myths, the myth of ‘El-ahrairah’ the Prince with Thousand Enemies. (In J R R Tolkien’s novels too eagles talk, so does the dragon in The Hobbit.)
The quest theme is a major force in animal faction. Both Black Beauty the horse of Anna Sewell’s novel and Buck the dog in Jack London’s Call of the Wild look for a perfect home which is lost to them. Black Beauty finally finds peace after much toil and suffering while Buck ultimately answers the call of the wild. He turns into a ‘noble savage.’ (Both the novels can also be read as a plea for cruelty against animals).
Animal world fascinates us, for we don’t understand it. The primitive mysticism of the jungle world leads us to a spiritual quest. In Salman Rushdie’s Grimus, Flapping Eagle must find Grimus surrounded by exotic birds if he has to learn the truth. This quest for noble savage takes us to high seas in search of a white whale called Moby Dick in Herman Melville’s novel. Captain Ahab must dies for own hatred, and only the innocence of Ishmael can survive this quest.
This innocence plays a very important role in animal fiction. Innocence is pitted against the miseries of the world, but it always wins. That is why A A Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh makes for such an endearing story.
Take for example, stories from Panchatantra or Aesop’s fables. It was the ‘original fantasy,’ making animals behave like human, giving them thought and speech, and all the follies and foible of human kind. Animals of these stories create a parallel universe of their own, an animal kingdom. As children, we enjoyed them at face value. We loved the innocent deer and hated the cunning fox. As we grew up, we tried to infuse reality to these stories and found that these animals are actually human beings in disguise and all their action resemble a human pattern.
This is how George Orwell’s classic Animal Farm works.
But why animals? It’s a romantic notion that nature’s law is equal to everyone. It’s a search for utopia of equality where human world is pitted against animal world. Therefore, in Chronicles of Narnia, it is the lion Aslan who must overthrow the power of the White Witch. It’s a bunny rabbit that leads Alice into wonderful adventures in Lewis Carol’s Alice in Wonderland. (But what happens when a shark gets murderous as in Peter Benchley’s Jaws?)
However the question remains whether the allegorical aspect to animal actions mars the beauty of the story, or whether all stories about animals must have a duel meaning.
Rudyard Kipling in Jungle Book achieved giving animals a separate identity without any dependency to allegory. Balu the bear, Baghira the leopard are real animals, they do not carry any human aspect in them (except probably their love for Mougly); so are the pack of wolves and their leader Akela, and the tiger Sher Khan. In Kipling’s animal kingdom, human exists, but only on the fringe. And the story starts when a human child comes to live in jungle.
Richard Adams takes animal protagonists in Watership Down to another level. A story about a few talkative rabbits in search of a new warren, in the novel, we meet Hazel, Fiver and Bigwig as rabbits on a perilous journey. Here, human exists too, but as enemies. The novel is a Lord of the Rings of the rabbits. The author describes the rabbit world with detailed authenticity, complete with rabbit talks with a ‘lapin glossary,’ and bunny myths, the myth of ‘El-ahrairah’ the Prince with Thousand Enemies. (In J R R Tolkien’s novels too eagles talk, so does the dragon in The Hobbit.)
The quest theme is a major force in animal faction. Both Black Beauty the horse of Anna Sewell’s novel and Buck the dog in Jack London’s Call of the Wild look for a perfect home which is lost to them. Black Beauty finally finds peace after much toil and suffering while Buck ultimately answers the call of the wild. He turns into a ‘noble savage.’ (Both the novels can also be read as a plea for cruelty against animals).
Animal world fascinates us, for we don’t understand it. The primitive mysticism of the jungle world leads us to a spiritual quest. In Salman Rushdie’s Grimus, Flapping Eagle must find Grimus surrounded by exotic birds if he has to learn the truth. This quest for noble savage takes us to high seas in search of a white whale called Moby Dick in Herman Melville’s novel. Captain Ahab must dies for own hatred, and only the innocence of Ishmael can survive this quest.
This innocence plays a very important role in animal fiction. Innocence is pitted against the miseries of the world, but it always wins. That is why A A Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh makes for such an endearing story.
Subject: Famine
Samir Tanti
Translated from original Asomiya by
Dibyajyoti Sarma
The date is approximately 3500 BC. It happened
Before your birth, before the birth of your birth
Hrikveda was not born then. Like men animals were
Plump, strong, agile. And soil was fertile like
Beautiful women. Making the men boat women of night
Crossed the river of desire. One drop of semen
Even then was women’s potent corp. Drinks of barley, ox’s heart
As if life was an everlasting celebration. Blessed is my
God of animals, Pashupati [1]
Yes it happened. It was destined that it would
Happen. Rainfall of day, night’s moonlight. Lost soldiers
In the city of bricks nights were the luxury of amour. Time
Passed, ebbed in water. One night an animal with long beard
Screeched. And like a ripe orange fell an old woman.
She, who was Shindhu’s [2] mother, the Goddess of Mohenjo-Daro. Looking
Into a cauldron’s face no one knew about food.
No one understood Shindhu. That night was
The night of famine.
[1] Another name for Lord Shiva, meaning Lord of the Animals
[2] Asomiya term for the river Indus
Translated from original Asomiya by
Dibyajyoti Sarma
The date is approximately 3500 BC. It happened
Before your birth, before the birth of your birth
Hrikveda was not born then. Like men animals were
Plump, strong, agile. And soil was fertile like
Beautiful women. Making the men boat women of night
Crossed the river of desire. One drop of semen
Even then was women’s potent corp. Drinks of barley, ox’s heart
As if life was an everlasting celebration. Blessed is my
God of animals, Pashupati [1]
Yes it happened. It was destined that it would
Happen. Rainfall of day, night’s moonlight. Lost soldiers
In the city of bricks nights were the luxury of amour. Time
Passed, ebbed in water. One night an animal with long beard
Screeched. And like a ripe orange fell an old woman.
She, who was Shindhu’s [2] mother, the Goddess of Mohenjo-Daro. Looking
Into a cauldron’s face no one knew about food.
No one understood Shindhu. That night was
The night of famine.
[1] Another name for Lord Shiva, meaning Lord of the Animals
[2] Asomiya term for the river Indus
Telling Films
These films are different because they tell the story differently...
I was going all gung-ho about Rang De Basanti, especially how the film is narrated, how the two stories, the past and the present, are brought together in a cohesive narration, when my friend pointed out a flaw. In the very first scene itself we are introduced to Karan as Bhagat Singh. So, when Sue comes to India, and struggles to find a good cast for her film, don’t we, the audience, already know that Karan and his friends are going to act in her film? Doesn’t this mar the suspense element? Isn’t it a flaw considering how meticulous the RDB script is? For example, in the very beginning, Sue tells us that she’s going to Hindi night classes, just to justify her Hindi dialogues.
Despite this, RDB is a success in telling a film in a different way. There are two stories in the film, told by two narrators. Sue narrates the present story, while the past story is told from her grandfather’s point of view. The two stories run parallel, at times they overlap, and at important junctures they lead to the same conclusions. For example, the way Soha Ali Khan’s character motivates the protagonists, saying, “kill them,” in both the stories. RDB boasts of a smart screenplay and smarter editing. Remember the scene, where Aslam, after the fight with his father, climbs up the stairs. In the next shot, when he opens the door, we see him in the past. The transition between Eastman colour present and sepia-toned past is achieved so effortlessly!
As we talk about story telling in films, here’s a random list of few Hindi films that tell the story differently.
Shyam Benegal’s underrated masterpiece Trikal. The story begins in future. The narrator has returned back to Donna Maria’s house after a long time. The house is in ruin. No one lives here any more. He enters the house, and suddenly it comes to life. He takes us to a guided tour to his memory, telling us the history of the house and then introducing us to the characters one by one. “And that young boy in the corner, that’s me, sixteen year ago,” he tells us. The characters are Goan Portuguese. They interact in Portuguese language. For few minutes, the narrator translates their conversation to us. Then suddenly he says, “How long will I translate their conversation to you. Why not out characters speak in a language that we all understand. And the characters start speaking in Hindi, and it happens so suddenly! A moment ago Lila Naidu was speaking in a different language and now she fluently speaks Hindi. This must be a very special ‘poetic licence!’ Then, the narrator disappears completely leaving Lila Naidu to tell her story. When her story is over, he appears again, but not to add a rejoinder to the previous story, but to mourn his own loss. There are so many stories told from so many points of view that the central focus is lost somewhere in Trikal . Probably that’s what Benegal wanted.
Mani Ratnam’s Yuva . The film begins somewhere in the middle. An ordinary day in Calcutta. Camera focuses on three people, in the midst of their activities. We have no idea what’s going on. Then, the camera freezes over Abhishek Bachchan’s face and two words appear on the screen, ‘Lallan’s story.’ As soon as Abhishek Bachchan’s story is over, we come back to the same place, the Howrah Bridge and Ajay Devgan’s story begins. When his story is over, begins Vivek Oberoi’s story. Interestingly, all the three stories end up at the Howrah Bridge, and from here on begins another story involving all three of them. And problem starts. The three stories are told in such detail that we don’t have any energy or willing left to really care about what happened to them finally. And then, things begin to happen so fast that it leaves us baffled. An over-ambitious Vivek Oberoi suddenly turns into an activist, as a group of city-bred youngsters go on to fight election and even win it. We couldn’t care less!
Nagesh Kukunoor’s 3 Deewarein. Welcome to the house with three walls and a barred door, the jail. Meet three criminals: Jaggu, who accepts killing his wife, Nagya, who vehemently denies the same charge on him, and Ishaan, who thinks, his killing of a pregnant woman while robbing a bank was an accident. Enters a documentary film maker Chandrika, who begins to take unusual interest in all three of them. At last, we find out that there’s only one person who committed all the three crimes. First, it is a sheer co-incidence that all three of them come to live in the same place, not only that, they begin to bond as well. And when everything is cleared out, it’s over. We didn’t have the chance know how they finally reacted. It was already too long and Kukunoor wanted to wrap it up fast.
Rules: Pyar Ka Superhit Formula . The film begins with a series of interviews, of seemingly unrelated characters. Tanuja as the grandmother is the anchor. It’s a typical love story, nothing new. New is the way the set of people comment on love related issues. And as the film progresses, these interviewees become an integral part of the subplot. An innovative idea, granted. But to what purpose? That is left unclear as these comments fail to add anything to the story of a supermodel’s love affair with an ordinary girl.
The same concept was used in a limited way in Nikhil Advani’s Kal Ho Naa Ho. Here, they are just comic relief, like songs in any Bollywood film, just an accessory.
Aziz Mirza’s Chalte Chalte. The love affair between Shah Rukh Khan and Rani Mukherji is told from the point of view of their friends in the first half. It’s obviously a glorified account. But in the second half, when we get a direct entry to witness their marital discord, we feel cheated by their ‘friends.’ They didn’t prepare us for what is to come. Again, there is none to tell us how it all began.
I was going all gung-ho about Rang De Basanti, especially how the film is narrated, how the two stories, the past and the present, are brought together in a cohesive narration, when my friend pointed out a flaw. In the very first scene itself we are introduced to Karan as Bhagat Singh. So, when Sue comes to India, and struggles to find a good cast for her film, don’t we, the audience, already know that Karan and his friends are going to act in her film? Doesn’t this mar the suspense element? Isn’t it a flaw considering how meticulous the RDB script is? For example, in the very beginning, Sue tells us that she’s going to Hindi night classes, just to justify her Hindi dialogues.
Despite this, RDB is a success in telling a film in a different way. There are two stories in the film, told by two narrators. Sue narrates the present story, while the past story is told from her grandfather’s point of view. The two stories run parallel, at times they overlap, and at important junctures they lead to the same conclusions. For example, the way Soha Ali Khan’s character motivates the protagonists, saying, “kill them,” in both the stories. RDB boasts of a smart screenplay and smarter editing. Remember the scene, where Aslam, after the fight with his father, climbs up the stairs. In the next shot, when he opens the door, we see him in the past. The transition between Eastman colour present and sepia-toned past is achieved so effortlessly!
As we talk about story telling in films, here’s a random list of few Hindi films that tell the story differently.
Shyam Benegal’s underrated masterpiece Trikal. The story begins in future. The narrator has returned back to Donna Maria’s house after a long time. The house is in ruin. No one lives here any more. He enters the house, and suddenly it comes to life. He takes us to a guided tour to his memory, telling us the history of the house and then introducing us to the characters one by one. “And that young boy in the corner, that’s me, sixteen year ago,” he tells us. The characters are Goan Portuguese. They interact in Portuguese language. For few minutes, the narrator translates their conversation to us. Then suddenly he says, “How long will I translate their conversation to you. Why not out characters speak in a language that we all understand. And the characters start speaking in Hindi, and it happens so suddenly! A moment ago Lila Naidu was speaking in a different language and now she fluently speaks Hindi. This must be a very special ‘poetic licence!’ Then, the narrator disappears completely leaving Lila Naidu to tell her story. When her story is over, he appears again, but not to add a rejoinder to the previous story, but to mourn his own loss. There are so many stories told from so many points of view that the central focus is lost somewhere in Trikal . Probably that’s what Benegal wanted.
Mani Ratnam’s Yuva . The film begins somewhere in the middle. An ordinary day in Calcutta. Camera focuses on three people, in the midst of their activities. We have no idea what’s going on. Then, the camera freezes over Abhishek Bachchan’s face and two words appear on the screen, ‘Lallan’s story.’ As soon as Abhishek Bachchan’s story is over, we come back to the same place, the Howrah Bridge and Ajay Devgan’s story begins. When his story is over, begins Vivek Oberoi’s story. Interestingly, all the three stories end up at the Howrah Bridge, and from here on begins another story involving all three of them. And problem starts. The three stories are told in such detail that we don’t have any energy or willing left to really care about what happened to them finally. And then, things begin to happen so fast that it leaves us baffled. An over-ambitious Vivek Oberoi suddenly turns into an activist, as a group of city-bred youngsters go on to fight election and even win it. We couldn’t care less!
Nagesh Kukunoor’s 3 Deewarein. Welcome to the house with three walls and a barred door, the jail. Meet three criminals: Jaggu, who accepts killing his wife, Nagya, who vehemently denies the same charge on him, and Ishaan, who thinks, his killing of a pregnant woman while robbing a bank was an accident. Enters a documentary film maker Chandrika, who begins to take unusual interest in all three of them. At last, we find out that there’s only one person who committed all the three crimes. First, it is a sheer co-incidence that all three of them come to live in the same place, not only that, they begin to bond as well. And when everything is cleared out, it’s over. We didn’t have the chance know how they finally reacted. It was already too long and Kukunoor wanted to wrap it up fast.
Rules: Pyar Ka Superhit Formula . The film begins with a series of interviews, of seemingly unrelated characters. Tanuja as the grandmother is the anchor. It’s a typical love story, nothing new. New is the way the set of people comment on love related issues. And as the film progresses, these interviewees become an integral part of the subplot. An innovative idea, granted. But to what purpose? That is left unclear as these comments fail to add anything to the story of a supermodel’s love affair with an ordinary girl.
The same concept was used in a limited way in Nikhil Advani’s Kal Ho Naa Ho. Here, they are just comic relief, like songs in any Bollywood film, just an accessory.
Aziz Mirza’s Chalte Chalte. The love affair between Shah Rukh Khan and Rani Mukherji is told from the point of view of their friends in the first half. It’s obviously a glorified account. But in the second half, when we get a direct entry to witness their marital discord, we feel cheated by their ‘friends.’ They didn’t prepare us for what is to come. Again, there is none to tell us how it all began.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
The Mythology of 7
Numbers always play an important role esoteric learning, especially odd numbers 7 and 9. A cat is supposed to have 9 lives, and so on.
In the Hollywood movie Se7en, Brad Pitt investigates about a serial killer who kills his victims according to the 7 Deadly Sins prescribed in Christianity. These 7 Deadly Sins are pride, envy (including malice), wrath, lust (or lechery), gluttony, avarice (or covetousness), and sloth. They are called deadly because they mean spiritual death until they are atoned for by repentance. Pride is the evil of all; it was the sin of Satan for which he was banished for heaven.
As opposed to 7 Deadly Sins there are 7 virtues. 4 of these virtues come from Greek, also called temporal virtues: justice, temperance, fortitude (courage), and prudence (wisdom). Other three virtues are Christian or theological virtues: faith, hope and love (charity). Greek philosopher Plato in the book Republic discussed temporal virtues. The Purgatory section on Dante’s epic Divine Comedy is based on these 7 virtues. In his poem The Fairy Queen, Spenser attributed these 7 virtues to his hero Arthur.
Apart from vices and virtues, there are 7 Liberal Arts. Liberal Arts according to the Greeks are those subjects which add to moral and intellectual excellence. The Roman scholar Marcus Terentius Varro first technically discussed it in 1st century BC. These 7 Liberal Arts as included in ancient and medieval curriculum are grammar, logic, rhetoric, geometry, arithmetic, astronomy, and music. These subjects are distinguished from other subjects which are merely useful.
The Greeks seem particularly fond of 7. The ancient Greek and Roman compiled a list of 7 Wonders of the World as the most extraordinary structures of antiquity. These are: the Pyramids of Egypt; the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, built by King Nebuchadnezzar II about 600 BC, a mountain-like series of planted terraces; the 12-m (40-ft) Statue of Zeus (mid-5th century BC) by the Greek sculptor Phidias, now lost; the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus in Greece (356 BC), destroyed in AD 262; the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus (c. 353 BC) for King Mausolus of Caria in Asia Minor of which only fragments remain; the Colossus of Rhodes, a 30-m (100-ft) bronze statue of the Greek sun god Helios, erected about 280 BC and about 55 years later; the Pharos of Alexandria (c. 280 BC), a famous ancient lighthouse standing more than 134 m (440 ft) tall; it was destroyed in the 14th century.
The Greek mythology takes us to the story of the 7 Against Thebes, the ill-fated expedition against the city of Thebes undertaken by 7 chieftains and their followers Polynices, the son of Oedipus, the former king of Thebes.
When Oedipus resigned, he decreed that each of his sons take a turn to rule the kingdom for 7 years each. Therefore after losing the throne after 7 year to his younger brother, Eteocles, Polynices fled to Argos and married the daughter of the king Adrastus. The Argive king then organized a great army to march against the Thebans and restore Polynices to the throne. The epic battle that followed each of the 7 warriors was killed except Adrastus, who fled with his broken army to Athens; Polynices and Eteocles slew each other, thus fulfilling the curse of their father.
The ancient mariners divined the world’s body of water into 7 Seas. These are the North and South Atlantic, the North and South Pacific, the Indian, the Arctic, and the Antarctic oceans. Presently, however, 7 Seas is the name of a code-liver oil brand.
Religion has also its concerns for the number 7.
7th-Day Adventists are the largest group of the Adventists who are the Protestant denominations that stress the doctrine of the imminent second coming of Christ. It had about two million members worldwide in 1990. Two tenets are prominent in the Church's theology: belief in the visible, personal second coming of Christ at an early but indefinite date and the observance of Saturday as the sabbath. Members accept the Bible as their sole religious authority, placing special trust in the literal interpretation of prophetic passages.
Japan however has 7 Gods of Good Fortune (Japanese, Shichi-fuku-jin). These are Japanese deities traditionally thought to bring good luck, wealth, and a long life. They are: Ebisu, a Shinto god of fishing and trade, who carries a lucky sea bream; Daikoku, a mixed Shinto-Buddhist god of wealth and agriculture, with a rice bag and a wish-granting mallet; Bishamon, a Buddhist guardian deity and god of good luck, dressed in armour; Benzaiten (or Benten), a Buddhist goddess of water, music, and wealth, who plays a lute; Hotei, a fat-bellied Chinese Zen monk who brings good luck; Fukurokuju, a Chinese immortal with a large head who grants longevity; Jurojin, a Chinese sage and god of long life, often accompanied by a deer. Placing a picture of the gods under one's pillow on the night of January 1 is supposed to ensure a lucky first dream for the New Year.
Regarding war, T. E. Lawrence popularly known as Lawrence of Arabia (immortalised in a David Lean movie by Peter O’ Toole) wrote a book called The 7 Pillars of Wisdom (1926), an account of his adventures among the Arabs.The phrase 7 Years Itch talks about married life where love remains only for the first 7 years, after that itch begins. It also reminds us a Marilyn Monroe film of the same name.
In the Hollywood movie Se7en, Brad Pitt investigates about a serial killer who kills his victims according to the 7 Deadly Sins prescribed in Christianity. These 7 Deadly Sins are pride, envy (including malice), wrath, lust (or lechery), gluttony, avarice (or covetousness), and sloth. They are called deadly because they mean spiritual death until they are atoned for by repentance. Pride is the evil of all; it was the sin of Satan for which he was banished for heaven.
As opposed to 7 Deadly Sins there are 7 virtues. 4 of these virtues come from Greek, also called temporal virtues: justice, temperance, fortitude (courage), and prudence (wisdom). Other three virtues are Christian or theological virtues: faith, hope and love (charity). Greek philosopher Plato in the book Republic discussed temporal virtues. The Purgatory section on Dante’s epic Divine Comedy is based on these 7 virtues. In his poem The Fairy Queen, Spenser attributed these 7 virtues to his hero Arthur.
Apart from vices and virtues, there are 7 Liberal Arts. Liberal Arts according to the Greeks are those subjects which add to moral and intellectual excellence. The Roman scholar Marcus Terentius Varro first technically discussed it in 1st century BC. These 7 Liberal Arts as included in ancient and medieval curriculum are grammar, logic, rhetoric, geometry, arithmetic, astronomy, and music. These subjects are distinguished from other subjects which are merely useful.
The Greeks seem particularly fond of 7. The ancient Greek and Roman compiled a list of 7 Wonders of the World as the most extraordinary structures of antiquity. These are: the Pyramids of Egypt; the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, built by King Nebuchadnezzar II about 600 BC, a mountain-like series of planted terraces; the 12-m (40-ft) Statue of Zeus (mid-5th century BC) by the Greek sculptor Phidias, now lost; the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus in Greece (356 BC), destroyed in AD 262; the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus (c. 353 BC) for King Mausolus of Caria in Asia Minor of which only fragments remain; the Colossus of Rhodes, a 30-m (100-ft) bronze statue of the Greek sun god Helios, erected about 280 BC and about 55 years later; the Pharos of Alexandria (c. 280 BC), a famous ancient lighthouse standing more than 134 m (440 ft) tall; it was destroyed in the 14th century.
The Greek mythology takes us to the story of the 7 Against Thebes, the ill-fated expedition against the city of Thebes undertaken by 7 chieftains and their followers Polynices, the son of Oedipus, the former king of Thebes.
When Oedipus resigned, he decreed that each of his sons take a turn to rule the kingdom for 7 years each. Therefore after losing the throne after 7 year to his younger brother, Eteocles, Polynices fled to Argos and married the daughter of the king Adrastus. The Argive king then organized a great army to march against the Thebans and restore Polynices to the throne. The epic battle that followed each of the 7 warriors was killed except Adrastus, who fled with his broken army to Athens; Polynices and Eteocles slew each other, thus fulfilling the curse of their father.
The ancient mariners divined the world’s body of water into 7 Seas. These are the North and South Atlantic, the North and South Pacific, the Indian, the Arctic, and the Antarctic oceans. Presently, however, 7 Seas is the name of a code-liver oil brand.
Religion has also its concerns for the number 7.
7th-Day Adventists are the largest group of the Adventists who are the Protestant denominations that stress the doctrine of the imminent second coming of Christ. It had about two million members worldwide in 1990. Two tenets are prominent in the Church's theology: belief in the visible, personal second coming of Christ at an early but indefinite date and the observance of Saturday as the sabbath. Members accept the Bible as their sole religious authority, placing special trust in the literal interpretation of prophetic passages.
Japan however has 7 Gods of Good Fortune (Japanese, Shichi-fuku-jin). These are Japanese deities traditionally thought to bring good luck, wealth, and a long life. They are: Ebisu, a Shinto god of fishing and trade, who carries a lucky sea bream; Daikoku, a mixed Shinto-Buddhist god of wealth and agriculture, with a rice bag and a wish-granting mallet; Bishamon, a Buddhist guardian deity and god of good luck, dressed in armour; Benzaiten (or Benten), a Buddhist goddess of water, music, and wealth, who plays a lute; Hotei, a fat-bellied Chinese Zen monk who brings good luck; Fukurokuju, a Chinese immortal with a large head who grants longevity; Jurojin, a Chinese sage and god of long life, often accompanied by a deer. Placing a picture of the gods under one's pillow on the night of January 1 is supposed to ensure a lucky first dream for the New Year.
Regarding war, T. E. Lawrence popularly known as Lawrence of Arabia (immortalised in a David Lean movie by Peter O’ Toole) wrote a book called The 7 Pillars of Wisdom (1926), an account of his adventures among the Arabs.The phrase 7 Years Itch talks about married life where love remains only for the first 7 years, after that itch begins. It also reminds us a Marilyn Monroe film of the same name.
Monday, August 21, 2006
You’re Lake, Blessed Peace: A poem
You’re Lake, Blessed Peace
Hiren Bhattacharya
Translated from Asomiya
By Dibyajyoti Sarma
1.
Without bidding good bye the river leaves
That’s the rule of river’s leaving
You’re lake, blessed peace
Below the water
Blood
Sparkling
2.
The small pigment is covered with blood lotus
Your all scented girl body
Surprised
The broken house of my heart!
On the shadow of the scintillating masculine day
Dries
The royal robe of love
3.
Breeze, don’t create a ripple, don’t break the focus of love
Long breathe of peace
On illiterate sky-slate the black letter of cloud
Tonight it’ll rain
Placid rain
The friction of art reverberates the soil of creation
Soil water will cover me
Let it cover
The cropless, seedless nature and the foetus of my ruined poem
Tonight it’ll rain
Exorbitant rain
Hiren Bhattacharya
Translated from Asomiya
By Dibyajyoti Sarma
1.
Without bidding good bye the river leaves
That’s the rule of river’s leaving
You’re lake, blessed peace
Below the water
Blood
Sparkling
2.
The small pigment is covered with blood lotus
Your all scented girl body
Surprised
The broken house of my heart!
On the shadow of the scintillating masculine day
Dries
The royal robe of love
3.
Breeze, don’t create a ripple, don’t break the focus of love
Long breathe of peace
On illiterate sky-slate the black letter of cloud
Tonight it’ll rain
Placid rain
The friction of art reverberates the soil of creation
Soil water will cover me
Let it cover
The cropless, seedless nature and the foetus of my ruined poem
Tonight it’ll rain
Exorbitant rain
Sunday, August 20, 2006
At Howrah: A story
Meet Rajan, my husband…
Rajan was sure he would not react. But before he could compose himself words burst out from his mouth.
…and he? Is he your lover? Rajan feels sorry after putting forth the question. He wants to disappear from the scene.
No actually. He is the father of my son. Mira answers politely.
There is no sign of discomfiture in her gait. She has gained some weight. But her hair is still jet-black, long and smooth.
Rajan shakes hand with the thin man next to Mira. He has a firm hand.
Let’s go and sit somewhere. Mira insists.
Without a word Rajan follows the couple: the thin man and the bulky woman. Rajan is not sure if anyone would ever believe that this woman is his wife. Why is, she was, of course, it is ‘was,’ not ‘is’. They settle down on the corner table of the Railway Cafeteria.
Are you still in your diet of black tea, or would you like to have some coffee? Mira asks and Rajan nods ambiguously.
Mira gets busy with the waiter, caressing her hair, letting her big earrings jingle. Rajan looks at the man in front of him. The man grins.
Sorry, did not catch your name… Rajan mutters.
Oh, I’m Rajdeep. I work in Tata Tea, currently in Calcutta…
Going for a trip somewhere?
To Bangalore. He grins again. To see our son…
He turns toward Mira keeping his grin intact.
She is free now. She fiddles with her handbag.
And you Rajan, where are you going?
Coming. Rajan corrects her.
From where? Mira cries. Don’t tell me you don’t live in Badarpur anymore. They are going to miss you.
Rajan doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want to answer. He doesn’t want to tell Mira that he left Badarpur just a few months after her disappearance. It was impossible for him to continue there with so much rumours going around. He doesn’t want to tell her that he is coming back from Bombay after meeting his doctor, that both of his kidneys are now defunct, that he is…
So, what’s you son doing in Bangalore? He asks Mira.
A big group of youngsters jostle around them looking for empty chairs. The waiter in his dirty chocolate-coloured uniform arrives with coffee. The question is lost on Mira.
You are not taking care of your health, Rajan. Mira pushes the cup towards him.
Rajan picks up the cup and looks at Rajdeep. What about your lover? He wants to ask.
Don’t compare. Mira snaps.
My God, nothing escapes from her. She is the same old bitch. Rajan thinks.
Don’t compare. Mira repeats smiling sweetly, adding, he was always thin.
Hereditary. Rajdeep chimes in, very smartly.
But you have put on weight.
Rajdeep looks at her from the corner of his eyes, hinting, see, I told you.
Happy women are always fat. Mira laughs heartily, nudging Rajdeep.
I hope you are telling the truth Mira. Rajan thinks. He doesn’t like the idea of Mira being happy with this thin man. When she could not be happy with him, how can she be happy with any other man? And this poor fellow, he’s totally a henpecked bastard. His body-lingo shows.
You said you are coming from… I missed that…
The noise in the cafeteria increases. Mira bends down toward Rajan to make herself heard.
Where do you live now?
Rajan moves his head in a circular motion without moving the muscles of his face.
In Cal? Just imagine? The world is really a small place, isn’t it, Raj? We are in Cal for last 7 years. In Bullygunj. Been there ever? Now that you are here, you must visit us soon, as soon as we are back from Bangalore. Why don’t you give him your card, Raj, how would he know the address?
The thin man fishes out a fat purse, picks up a card and offers it obligingly to Rajan. From the gloss and the minimalist look, Rajan can read that this Rajdeep guy is a rich customer. Where did Mira find him?
Mira is chatting away: Listen, Rajan, give me a call just after 2 weeks from now. We’ll be back on 27. I want to stay more, but Raj does not have time. I can never get enough of Ranjan. Oh my, just imagine, you are in Calcutta all the while and I did not have a clue.
And I did not have a clue where have you been all the while, you bitch. Rajan thinks. He smiles politely, knowingly. He is not angry which he imagined he would. But he is not sure what his feelings are either. He’s confused.
When is your train? He asks.
At 12 midnight. Rajdeep answers, adding, still 3 hours to go. We had to come early because Mira was worried that she’ll miss the train and won’t be able to see her son. He explains; he is a gentleman.
But that was a good thing, isn’t it, meeting Rajan suddenly after so many years? Imagine he was in Calcutta all the while.
She fiddles with her purse again.
It’s a long time since I have seen you. She adds.
Yes, Rajan wants to say. It’s been 23 years 6 months and 18 days. He looks at the youngsters in the table next to them.
But darling, what about food? The gentleman enquires.
Why, we can have our dinner here, with Rajan to give us company. This place looks ok to me. You cannot have a better place in Howrah station anyway, what do you say, Rajan?
Rajan opens his mouth. He wants to excuse himself. He wants to say he’s tired. He wants to say his wife would be waiting for him at home, or any damn lie. He wants to get rid of this place. He wants to excuse himself from the happiness of Mira.
Please stay for the dinner. I will be obliged to have your acquaintance. The gentleman pleads.
Rajan shuts his mouth without uttering a single word.
He had other plans for tonight. The doctor has given him the final result, 2 months at the most. He has many things to do within this short period of time. He has to windup everything. He has already fixed up an appointment with his lawyer for tomorrow. He had to get his paper ready by tonight.
Gitanjali Express was right in time. He wanted to get away from the station fast. The crowd always gave him a nauseating feeling. Then someone dashed him, forced him to make a halt and asked him if he was Rajan. It was Mira. He recognised her instantly. Who can ever forget these cat eyes?
By the way, Mr. Moitra, are you still with the Birla’s? The gentleman asks.
These days Rajan suddenly goes out of breath. He drinks some water from the glass and answers:
No. I own a spare parts shop in Bau Bazaar. It’s a long time that I quit Birla Cement.
He gulps another mouthful of water.
Mira is busy playing the host, instructing the waiter, asking all those silly questions that only women are capable of asking.
Rajan puts down the glass. The group of youngsters has already left. The place is decently quiet now.
Seems you know quite a lot about me.
Oh, no. The gentleman apologizes. Only that much that Mira would tell me. And she has all good things to tell about you.
A sudden gust of nausea fills Rajan in. He twists his mouth and asks politely:
If you don’t mind asking me, are you happy with Mira.
Rajan inspects the thin man’s face intently. The hair of his moustache is graying.
Oh, very much. She is my life.
There is a tiny black spot on the white of the thin man’s left eye. The thin man averts his eyes.
If you would please excuse me…
Rajdeep gets us jerkily and makes away for the loo, leaving the two long estranged people together.
To what end and to what purpose? Rajan can’t fathom it. He feels strangely calm. All the bitterness he had for Mira for all these years suddenly disappear from his mind. He doesn’t know about Mira, but for him, he feels nothing, absolutely nothing.
Mira has finished placing the order. She fiddles with her handbag, again. She looks up, smiles at Rajan and asks almost inaudibly:
How are you?
So you have told him everything about me.
I had to. You cannot start a relationship based on a lie.
And you also told him that you run away from your husband.
No, I did not run away. I walked away. There is a difference between the two. Yes, I have told him that.
What do you mean by ‘walk away?’ You disappeared.
But I left a note there on the table asking you not to look for me.
Your young wife disappears and you expect the husband not to look for her! Do you know how much trouble I had to face on account of you?
Rajan wants to add, you bitch, you destroyed my life. But he does not feel sufficiently angry. It does not matter to him anymore.
Yes I know. Mira answers in a low, clear voice. Once I met Sanyukta many years later. She told me how you used to run from one police station to another looking for me.
She halts. The clutter around the cafeteria continues.
I am sorry Rajan. But that was the only thing I could do.
You could have told me. We could have discussed it out.
I tried. You know that I tried. Anyway, it’s already done. Let’s not talk about it anymore. How are you doing? When did you leave Badarpur?
Seriously, Rajan does not remember anything anymore about Badarpur, that small, sleepy town covered with the white layer of dust from the cement factories where he began his married life. It all feels like a memory of a film he saw long time ago. He does not remember anything particular about Badarpur, except one, a passing comment doubting his virility: “woh toh hijra hoga, that’s why…” should Rajan tell this to Mira? How would she react? Would she say that it is not true? She knows.
The waiter arrives with the food. The thin man too returns looking fresh and terribly fragile. Mira bids the waiter to leave and begins to serve them.
…sorry, I got late. The gentleman apologizes. They have caught a pickpocket there. There was a big mob around.
The poor boy must be a novice. Rajan comments.
Why?
The pickpockets around here are very smart. You can never catch them.
It seems you know all about Calcutta. As for me, I’m always confused.
Rajan mixes the daal fry with jeera rice, swallows a mouthful and comments: Cities are like monograms written in an esoteric language, Mr…
Rajan looks enquiringly at the thin man and chews the mouthful.
Bhandari.
Mr. Bhandari, cities are esoteric languages. If you know the language it is very easy, if not kaali akshar… you know what I mean?
Mr. Bhandari knows. He’s a smart guy.
Even Mira knows a lot about cities. She has already written a book. Mira, why don’t you tell Mr. Moitra about your book?
What book? Rajan looks at Mira, and then turns to his food again. Your Ph. D. thesis? You always waned to complete your doctorate degree.
She has done it already.
The smart guy informs beaming all over, making the daal spill in his chin, the proud husband.
She is now Dr. Mira Moitra.
Rajan is not sure if he has heard it right. He gives a quick glance to Mira. She is busy eating. There is no sound except for the clutter of plates and spoons. Rajan drinks some water. Did he hear it right?
What did you say, Dr. Mira…
Yes, Dr. Mira Moitra. Author of the book, “Skyscrapers of Shialdah.”
For the first time in the entire evening, Rajan is surprised. Why? Why, Mira has still kept her marriage identity, her long abandoned husband’s name?
Congratulation. Rajan glances at Mira for a fraction of a second. He doesn’t dare to read her reaction. Trying to make his voice as caustic as he can he continues:
Congratulations. Dr. Mira Moitra… But why Moitra, why not Bhandari, or Sarkar.
The smart guy Bhandari can sense that something is amiss. He adds jocularly:
It sounds sweet, isn’t it?
Rajan can feel that he is beginning to get angry. The whole thing looks like a very bad joke to him, a very obscene, but well planned joke. He does not like the idea of being the butt of a joke. He pushes his plate aside, drinks some water and wiping his mouth with a napkin looks at Mira, this time glaringly.
Why?
Mira keeps the spoon on the plate, moves her long fingers along her hair and smiles: Because, Rajan, you are still my husband.
Are you insane? It is all Rajan can ask this moment.
No. I am talking complete sense. We ain’t divorced, are we? You are right; I could have gone back to my maiden name Sarkar. But it was easier for me to carry the burden of your memory then the memory of my father.
What nonsense.
Rajan cannot stand the way Mira is explaining things. This woman is sick. She doesn’t have a heart. You bitch, first you destroy my life, and now you explain to me why you are still keeping my name. How dare you? Rajan drinks some more water. He calms himself. He does not want to create a scene. Anyway it does not matter to him anymore. Nothing about Mira matters to him anymore.
Memory of a runaway wife…
Words slip involuntarily from his mouth. He sadly observes that he’s beginning to get involved. He must curb himself.
No, I didn’t run away, Rajan. Probably it would have been easier for you if I had informed you. But you know what happened. I did not have any other options. I did not want you to find me again.
She halts. A faint smile plays around her lips.
I did not trust you then.
Rajan wonders if it is the same Mira with whom he had spent 25 months together.
And now, do you trust me?
This daal is very tasty, want some more?
Mira asks first Rajan then Mr. Bhandari. For a thin man this guy is a voracious eater.
You should take care of your health, Rajan. You look ill.
I am ill, sick and tired. Rajan wants to scream. He smiles politely.
Oh, my, it’s already 11. Raj, please hurry up. We’ll be late.
As the thin man cleans the plate of food, Mira summons the waiter and asks for the bill. Rajan reclines back in his chair and watches the couple, openly and blankly, the entire scene looks surreal to him as if it is a dream and he will wake up soon. As if he has just eaten in dream.
The thin man finishes his food. Mira moves her fingers in her hair. Rajan looks at the seashell bangles on her hand. Are those the same bangles she wore when she became his bride? Rajan thought that the question would be impolite. And then how these two people are managing without marriage? How come there is a son? How old is he? What is he doing in Bangalore? Rajan thinks these questions would be too personal to ask. He lets his curiosity ebb away.
The waiter arrives. Before the poor chap can place the bill on the table, Rajan jumps up from his chair and snatches it.
The bill is on me please.
The thin man wants to say something. But Rajan watches Mira’s hand pinching the thin man’s thigh asking him not to interfere.
As you wish. Mira obliges amicably.
Rajan pays the bill and all three of them come out of the cafeteria. A rowdy female voice announces the departure time of some unknown train. Rajan clutches his air bag under his arm. Mira rearranges the plaits of her sari. The thin man beams self-consciously and looks around.
So, that’s it. Rajan says. I wish you a very happy and uneventful journey. Events are always cumbersome. Rajan tries to be funny.
It was nice meeting you. Mr. Bhandari offers his hand to Rajan. Do keep in touch. He says politely. He has a very strong hand.
You don’t mind my being the husband of your lover? Rajan curses himself after uttering the sentence.
Mr. Bhandari grins meaninglessly.
I told you Rajan we are not lovers. We are just living together without giving our relationship a name. At the most he’s my son’s father. Our relationship is open. I can leave him any time I want and the same goes for him too. She caresses her hair. That is why I won’t leave him. I won’t leave him because I can leave him. And I am sure he would not leave me either.
Do I have a choice, darling. This time Mr. Bhandari tries to be funny.
And you left me because…
Because we were married. I did not like being dictated by someone whom I barely knew. I did not have options…
Mira extends her hand to Rajan.
I don’t know what I did was right or wrong. I had to do it, you know.
She shakes Rajan hands. Rajan recognises an old silver ring on her finger. He picks her hand up and examines it closely.
Oh, this, I decided to keep it, you know… memory of a runaway wife…
Do visit us at our home. Mr. Bhandari invites Rajan again before turning to leave. They disappear among the mob.
Rajan fishes out the thin man’s business card from his pocket and throws it in the dustbin. Then he proceeds towards the magazine stand. He has to buy some magazines. He does not want to spend the whole night thinking about Mira and the thin man.
Rajan was sure he would not react. But before he could compose himself words burst out from his mouth.
…and he? Is he your lover? Rajan feels sorry after putting forth the question. He wants to disappear from the scene.
No actually. He is the father of my son. Mira answers politely.
There is no sign of discomfiture in her gait. She has gained some weight. But her hair is still jet-black, long and smooth.
Rajan shakes hand with the thin man next to Mira. He has a firm hand.
Let’s go and sit somewhere. Mira insists.
Without a word Rajan follows the couple: the thin man and the bulky woman. Rajan is not sure if anyone would ever believe that this woman is his wife. Why is, she was, of course, it is ‘was,’ not ‘is’. They settle down on the corner table of the Railway Cafeteria.
Are you still in your diet of black tea, or would you like to have some coffee? Mira asks and Rajan nods ambiguously.
Mira gets busy with the waiter, caressing her hair, letting her big earrings jingle. Rajan looks at the man in front of him. The man grins.
Sorry, did not catch your name… Rajan mutters.
Oh, I’m Rajdeep. I work in Tata Tea, currently in Calcutta…
Going for a trip somewhere?
To Bangalore. He grins again. To see our son…
He turns toward Mira keeping his grin intact.
She is free now. She fiddles with her handbag.
And you Rajan, where are you going?
Coming. Rajan corrects her.
From where? Mira cries. Don’t tell me you don’t live in Badarpur anymore. They are going to miss you.
Rajan doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want to answer. He doesn’t want to tell Mira that he left Badarpur just a few months after her disappearance. It was impossible for him to continue there with so much rumours going around. He doesn’t want to tell her that he is coming back from Bombay after meeting his doctor, that both of his kidneys are now defunct, that he is…
So, what’s you son doing in Bangalore? He asks Mira.
A big group of youngsters jostle around them looking for empty chairs. The waiter in his dirty chocolate-coloured uniform arrives with coffee. The question is lost on Mira.
You are not taking care of your health, Rajan. Mira pushes the cup towards him.
Rajan picks up the cup and looks at Rajdeep. What about your lover? He wants to ask.
Don’t compare. Mira snaps.
My God, nothing escapes from her. She is the same old bitch. Rajan thinks.
Don’t compare. Mira repeats smiling sweetly, adding, he was always thin.
Hereditary. Rajdeep chimes in, very smartly.
But you have put on weight.
Rajdeep looks at her from the corner of his eyes, hinting, see, I told you.
Happy women are always fat. Mira laughs heartily, nudging Rajdeep.
I hope you are telling the truth Mira. Rajan thinks. He doesn’t like the idea of Mira being happy with this thin man. When she could not be happy with him, how can she be happy with any other man? And this poor fellow, he’s totally a henpecked bastard. His body-lingo shows.
You said you are coming from… I missed that…
The noise in the cafeteria increases. Mira bends down toward Rajan to make herself heard.
Where do you live now?
Rajan moves his head in a circular motion without moving the muscles of his face.
In Cal? Just imagine? The world is really a small place, isn’t it, Raj? We are in Cal for last 7 years. In Bullygunj. Been there ever? Now that you are here, you must visit us soon, as soon as we are back from Bangalore. Why don’t you give him your card, Raj, how would he know the address?
The thin man fishes out a fat purse, picks up a card and offers it obligingly to Rajan. From the gloss and the minimalist look, Rajan can read that this Rajdeep guy is a rich customer. Where did Mira find him?
Mira is chatting away: Listen, Rajan, give me a call just after 2 weeks from now. We’ll be back on 27. I want to stay more, but Raj does not have time. I can never get enough of Ranjan. Oh my, just imagine, you are in Calcutta all the while and I did not have a clue.
And I did not have a clue where have you been all the while, you bitch. Rajan thinks. He smiles politely, knowingly. He is not angry which he imagined he would. But he is not sure what his feelings are either. He’s confused.
When is your train? He asks.
At 12 midnight. Rajdeep answers, adding, still 3 hours to go. We had to come early because Mira was worried that she’ll miss the train and won’t be able to see her son. He explains; he is a gentleman.
But that was a good thing, isn’t it, meeting Rajan suddenly after so many years? Imagine he was in Calcutta all the while.
She fiddles with her purse again.
It’s a long time since I have seen you. She adds.
Yes, Rajan wants to say. It’s been 23 years 6 months and 18 days. He looks at the youngsters in the table next to them.
But darling, what about food? The gentleman enquires.
Why, we can have our dinner here, with Rajan to give us company. This place looks ok to me. You cannot have a better place in Howrah station anyway, what do you say, Rajan?
Rajan opens his mouth. He wants to excuse himself. He wants to say he’s tired. He wants to say his wife would be waiting for him at home, or any damn lie. He wants to get rid of this place. He wants to excuse himself from the happiness of Mira.
Please stay for the dinner. I will be obliged to have your acquaintance. The gentleman pleads.
Rajan shuts his mouth without uttering a single word.
He had other plans for tonight. The doctor has given him the final result, 2 months at the most. He has many things to do within this short period of time. He has to windup everything. He has already fixed up an appointment with his lawyer for tomorrow. He had to get his paper ready by tonight.
Gitanjali Express was right in time. He wanted to get away from the station fast. The crowd always gave him a nauseating feeling. Then someone dashed him, forced him to make a halt and asked him if he was Rajan. It was Mira. He recognised her instantly. Who can ever forget these cat eyes?
By the way, Mr. Moitra, are you still with the Birla’s? The gentleman asks.
These days Rajan suddenly goes out of breath. He drinks some water from the glass and answers:
No. I own a spare parts shop in Bau Bazaar. It’s a long time that I quit Birla Cement.
He gulps another mouthful of water.
Mira is busy playing the host, instructing the waiter, asking all those silly questions that only women are capable of asking.
Rajan puts down the glass. The group of youngsters has already left. The place is decently quiet now.
Seems you know quite a lot about me.
Oh, no. The gentleman apologizes. Only that much that Mira would tell me. And she has all good things to tell about you.
A sudden gust of nausea fills Rajan in. He twists his mouth and asks politely:
If you don’t mind asking me, are you happy with Mira.
Rajan inspects the thin man’s face intently. The hair of his moustache is graying.
Oh, very much. She is my life.
There is a tiny black spot on the white of the thin man’s left eye. The thin man averts his eyes.
If you would please excuse me…
Rajdeep gets us jerkily and makes away for the loo, leaving the two long estranged people together.
To what end and to what purpose? Rajan can’t fathom it. He feels strangely calm. All the bitterness he had for Mira for all these years suddenly disappear from his mind. He doesn’t know about Mira, but for him, he feels nothing, absolutely nothing.
Mira has finished placing the order. She fiddles with her handbag, again. She looks up, smiles at Rajan and asks almost inaudibly:
How are you?
So you have told him everything about me.
I had to. You cannot start a relationship based on a lie.
And you also told him that you run away from your husband.
No, I did not run away. I walked away. There is a difference between the two. Yes, I have told him that.
What do you mean by ‘walk away?’ You disappeared.
But I left a note there on the table asking you not to look for me.
Your young wife disappears and you expect the husband not to look for her! Do you know how much trouble I had to face on account of you?
Rajan wants to add, you bitch, you destroyed my life. But he does not feel sufficiently angry. It does not matter to him anymore.
Yes I know. Mira answers in a low, clear voice. Once I met Sanyukta many years later. She told me how you used to run from one police station to another looking for me.
She halts. The clutter around the cafeteria continues.
I am sorry Rajan. But that was the only thing I could do.
You could have told me. We could have discussed it out.
I tried. You know that I tried. Anyway, it’s already done. Let’s not talk about it anymore. How are you doing? When did you leave Badarpur?
Seriously, Rajan does not remember anything anymore about Badarpur, that small, sleepy town covered with the white layer of dust from the cement factories where he began his married life. It all feels like a memory of a film he saw long time ago. He does not remember anything particular about Badarpur, except one, a passing comment doubting his virility: “woh toh hijra hoga, that’s why…” should Rajan tell this to Mira? How would she react? Would she say that it is not true? She knows.
The waiter arrives with the food. The thin man too returns looking fresh and terribly fragile. Mira bids the waiter to leave and begins to serve them.
…sorry, I got late. The gentleman apologizes. They have caught a pickpocket there. There was a big mob around.
The poor boy must be a novice. Rajan comments.
Why?
The pickpockets around here are very smart. You can never catch them.
It seems you know all about Calcutta. As for me, I’m always confused.
Rajan mixes the daal fry with jeera rice, swallows a mouthful and comments: Cities are like monograms written in an esoteric language, Mr…
Rajan looks enquiringly at the thin man and chews the mouthful.
Bhandari.
Mr. Bhandari, cities are esoteric languages. If you know the language it is very easy, if not kaali akshar… you know what I mean?
Mr. Bhandari knows. He’s a smart guy.
Even Mira knows a lot about cities. She has already written a book. Mira, why don’t you tell Mr. Moitra about your book?
What book? Rajan looks at Mira, and then turns to his food again. Your Ph. D. thesis? You always waned to complete your doctorate degree.
She has done it already.
The smart guy informs beaming all over, making the daal spill in his chin, the proud husband.
She is now Dr. Mira Moitra.
Rajan is not sure if he has heard it right. He gives a quick glance to Mira. She is busy eating. There is no sound except for the clutter of plates and spoons. Rajan drinks some water. Did he hear it right?
What did you say, Dr. Mira…
Yes, Dr. Mira Moitra. Author of the book, “Skyscrapers of Shialdah.”
For the first time in the entire evening, Rajan is surprised. Why? Why, Mira has still kept her marriage identity, her long abandoned husband’s name?
Congratulation. Rajan glances at Mira for a fraction of a second. He doesn’t dare to read her reaction. Trying to make his voice as caustic as he can he continues:
Congratulations. Dr. Mira Moitra… But why Moitra, why not Bhandari, or Sarkar.
The smart guy Bhandari can sense that something is amiss. He adds jocularly:
It sounds sweet, isn’t it?
Rajan can feel that he is beginning to get angry. The whole thing looks like a very bad joke to him, a very obscene, but well planned joke. He does not like the idea of being the butt of a joke. He pushes his plate aside, drinks some water and wiping his mouth with a napkin looks at Mira, this time glaringly.
Why?
Mira keeps the spoon on the plate, moves her long fingers along her hair and smiles: Because, Rajan, you are still my husband.
Are you insane? It is all Rajan can ask this moment.
No. I am talking complete sense. We ain’t divorced, are we? You are right; I could have gone back to my maiden name Sarkar. But it was easier for me to carry the burden of your memory then the memory of my father.
What nonsense.
Rajan cannot stand the way Mira is explaining things. This woman is sick. She doesn’t have a heart. You bitch, first you destroy my life, and now you explain to me why you are still keeping my name. How dare you? Rajan drinks some more water. He calms himself. He does not want to create a scene. Anyway it does not matter to him anymore. Nothing about Mira matters to him anymore.
Memory of a runaway wife…
Words slip involuntarily from his mouth. He sadly observes that he’s beginning to get involved. He must curb himself.
No, I didn’t run away, Rajan. Probably it would have been easier for you if I had informed you. But you know what happened. I did not have any other options. I did not want you to find me again.
She halts. A faint smile plays around her lips.
I did not trust you then.
Rajan wonders if it is the same Mira with whom he had spent 25 months together.
And now, do you trust me?
This daal is very tasty, want some more?
Mira asks first Rajan then Mr. Bhandari. For a thin man this guy is a voracious eater.
You should take care of your health, Rajan. You look ill.
I am ill, sick and tired. Rajan wants to scream. He smiles politely.
Oh, my, it’s already 11. Raj, please hurry up. We’ll be late.
As the thin man cleans the plate of food, Mira summons the waiter and asks for the bill. Rajan reclines back in his chair and watches the couple, openly and blankly, the entire scene looks surreal to him as if it is a dream and he will wake up soon. As if he has just eaten in dream.
The thin man finishes his food. Mira moves her fingers in her hair. Rajan looks at the seashell bangles on her hand. Are those the same bangles she wore when she became his bride? Rajan thought that the question would be impolite. And then how these two people are managing without marriage? How come there is a son? How old is he? What is he doing in Bangalore? Rajan thinks these questions would be too personal to ask. He lets his curiosity ebb away.
The waiter arrives. Before the poor chap can place the bill on the table, Rajan jumps up from his chair and snatches it.
The bill is on me please.
The thin man wants to say something. But Rajan watches Mira’s hand pinching the thin man’s thigh asking him not to interfere.
As you wish. Mira obliges amicably.
Rajan pays the bill and all three of them come out of the cafeteria. A rowdy female voice announces the departure time of some unknown train. Rajan clutches his air bag under his arm. Mira rearranges the plaits of her sari. The thin man beams self-consciously and looks around.
So, that’s it. Rajan says. I wish you a very happy and uneventful journey. Events are always cumbersome. Rajan tries to be funny.
It was nice meeting you. Mr. Bhandari offers his hand to Rajan. Do keep in touch. He says politely. He has a very strong hand.
You don’t mind my being the husband of your lover? Rajan curses himself after uttering the sentence.
Mr. Bhandari grins meaninglessly.
I told you Rajan we are not lovers. We are just living together without giving our relationship a name. At the most he’s my son’s father. Our relationship is open. I can leave him any time I want and the same goes for him too. She caresses her hair. That is why I won’t leave him. I won’t leave him because I can leave him. And I am sure he would not leave me either.
Do I have a choice, darling. This time Mr. Bhandari tries to be funny.
And you left me because…
Because we were married. I did not like being dictated by someone whom I barely knew. I did not have options…
Mira extends her hand to Rajan.
I don’t know what I did was right or wrong. I had to do it, you know.
She shakes Rajan hands. Rajan recognises an old silver ring on her finger. He picks her hand up and examines it closely.
Oh, this, I decided to keep it, you know… memory of a runaway wife…
Do visit us at our home. Mr. Bhandari invites Rajan again before turning to leave. They disappear among the mob.
Rajan fishes out the thin man’s business card from his pocket and throws it in the dustbin. Then he proceeds towards the magazine stand. He has to buy some magazines. He does not want to spend the whole night thinking about Mira and the thin man.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Exodus
My mother had an umbrella
With ocean blue and maroon patches
Which she carried everywhere she went
Especially when she escorted me to the art school
On sultry summer afternoons
The umbrella with my mother’s lean frame
Created a rolling shadow on the melting tar
And I marched strides with that shadow
For the shade of my mother’s comfort
Now, at midnight, in this middle-aged city
Among the desecrations of an old civilisation
I stand bereft under a glowing street light
My skin cannot hide the shame of my body
There’s no shade here: and I
Bargained for my skins for a packet of love
Which I left behind among the Bedouins
And my aged soul, too tired even to
Finish it all, too scared to finish it all
A glimmer of hope flickers –
A shade!
Oh, my mother!
When I was born no drums beat
My parents were disappointed with their harvest
They wanted a baby girl
With my mother’s beauty and my father’s intelligence
Then
I was given a girl’s name
On the third day father brought for me a girl’s dress
My hair was grown long and was
Tied into two plaits with yellow ribbon
In short I was a girl
Except for my pee-pee
The days were stuff of dream
Like air bubbles boys in our neighbourhood
Created from the juices of Akan tree
And one day the bubble burst and
She was born
A real daughter for my parents
I was awaken rudely of the dream
They chopped my hair short,
Tore away my frock
And gave her my name
Leaving me exposed with my pee-pee
In broad daylight
I cried and it rained
I was born that day
The falling rain was my father
And the soggy soil My mother…
With ocean blue and maroon patches
Which she carried everywhere she went
Especially when she escorted me to the art school
On sultry summer afternoons
The umbrella with my mother’s lean frame
Created a rolling shadow on the melting tar
And I marched strides with that shadow
For the shade of my mother’s comfort
Now, at midnight, in this middle-aged city
Among the desecrations of an old civilisation
I stand bereft under a glowing street light
My skin cannot hide the shame of my body
There’s no shade here: and I
Bargained for my skins for a packet of love
Which I left behind among the Bedouins
And my aged soul, too tired even to
Finish it all, too scared to finish it all
A glimmer of hope flickers –
A shade!
Oh, my mother!
When I was born no drums beat
My parents were disappointed with their harvest
They wanted a baby girl
With my mother’s beauty and my father’s intelligence
Then
I was given a girl’s name
On the third day father brought for me a girl’s dress
My hair was grown long and was
Tied into two plaits with yellow ribbon
In short I was a girl
Except for my pee-pee
The days were stuff of dream
Like air bubbles boys in our neighbourhood
Created from the juices of Akan tree
And one day the bubble burst and
She was born
A real daughter for my parents
I was awaken rudely of the dream
They chopped my hair short,
Tore away my frock
And gave her my name
Leaving me exposed with my pee-pee
In broad daylight
I cried and it rained
I was born that day
The falling rain was my father
And the soggy soil My mother…
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Gods and Lovers: Apollo & Co
DO gods make better lovers than we mortals? Stories of gods in love with mortals are an integral part of Greek mythology; most of these love stories coming to a sad ending.
The arch-loser was Apollo, the god of prophesy and later the sun god, a great archer and a handsome youth.
Apollo fell in love with Cassandra, daughter of Priam, king of Troy. But Cassandra was a difficult damsel to please. When Apollo gallantly declared his love to her street smart Cassandra Replied: “But dear Apollo, you are a god. I am but just a mortal beauty. Is this a good match? Love-struck Apollo immediately asked: “Cassandra, my love, what do you want?” The Princess was waiting just for that moment. She answered: “Apollo, you are a god of prophesy. Make me a prophetess. Then only I will return your love.” As love was always blind, Apollo granted the boon without delay. As soon as Cassandra received her power of prophesy, she informed: “Apollo, dear god, wise people always advice never to trust a god. Tell me, how can I trust you that you love me? Besides, after this power of prophesies, we are equal, you see. Now, I’m worthy of Zeus’s love, not yours.”
Apollo got intolerably angry at Cassandra duplicity. He could do nothing about her power of prophesy; the boon was already granted. But the jilted lover gave Cassandra a terrible curse: She will retain her power, but none will believe in her prophecies.
Cassandra suffered her fate to the hilt. In the Trojan War she informed her people what was impending, coming of the Greeks, Hector’s death, the Trojan horse. But none did believe her. Such was Apollo’s curse. After the war was over, and she was given as booty to Agamemnon, she advised the Greek general that he should not return to his kingdom lest his wife murdered him. Agamemnon did not take hid of Cassandra’s mad mutterings and in the process got himself and Cassandra killed by Clytemnestra, his vengeful wife.
As a god of prophecy did Apollo know that Cassandra was going to refuse him? Did he know that poor Daphne would turn into a laurel tree?
Daphne, the beautiful daughter of river god Peneus, dedicated herself to Artemis, goddess of the hunt, and, refused to marry. One day, Apollo, while riding his chariot of sun from east to west, saw Daphne roaming among the woods and, as was his habit, fell instantly in love with her. He descended upon the wood and proposed his love to Daphne, but his object of desire would not listen. Desperate and love-struck, Apollo tried to force her physically. Daphne ran towards the deep jungle to save her izzat. But Apollo would not leave his prize so easily. He pursued her relentlessly. As she ran, she prayed her father to save her from the lusty clutches of Apollo. He father granted her prayers and as Apollo was about to reach her, the river god turned her into a laurel tree (Urvashi too turned into a tree while pursued by her mortal lover Pururuvas). Shocked and devastated, Apollo sat under the tree and wept for his lost love. Finally he decided to give Daphne his final tribute of love by wearing a twig of laurel leaves into his golden crown. Poor Apollo!
Goddesses as lovers suffered even greater tragedy. The Trojan king Priam’s nephew Tithonus, a handsome young man was loved by the goddess of dawn Eos. She also bore him a son, the hero Memnon, king of Ethiopia. But as a goddess, she was not permitted to marry a mere mortal. Eos went to Zeus, king of Gods and prayed for Tithonus’s immortality, which Zeus granted. But in her happiness and in her state of love, Eos forgot to ask for another boon, eternal youth for her lover. Gods were genetically ever-young, men were not. As time passed, Eos remained the same voluptuous and beautiful whereas Tithonus withered away to a decrepit and shrivelled old man who could never die. He was no longer a match for his divine wife and the only thing he could ask for was death. Finally Eos took pity on him and turned him to a grasshopper.
Apollo’s sister Artemis however was smart. She fell in love with the beautiful shepherd boy Endymion and made him sleep eternally so that he could never change and grow old. Adonis was another handsome shepherd loved by two goddesses, Aphrodite, goddess of love and Proserpine, goddess of the underworld. Then poor Adonis was killed by a wild boar. Aphrodite pleaded with Zeus to restore him to her. Zeus decreed that Adonis should spend the winter months with Persephone in Hell and the summer months with Aphrodite.
The tragic chemistry of divine and mortal love in Greek mythology found a happy ending in the Roman myth of Cupid and Psyche. Jealous of Psyche's beauty, Venus, goddess of love, ordered her son, Cupid, to make Psyche fall in love with the ugliest man in the world. The hunter however turned hunted, and Cupid fell in love with Psyche. He carried her off to a secluded palace where he visited her only by night, unseen and unrecognized by her. Although Cupid had forbidden her ever to look upon his face, one night Psyche lit a lamp and looked upon him while he slept. Because she had disobeyed him, Cupid abandoned her, and Psyche was left to wander desolately throughout the world in search of him. Finally, after many trials she was reunited with Cupid and was made immortal by Zeus.
The arch-loser was Apollo, the god of prophesy and later the sun god, a great archer and a handsome youth.
Apollo fell in love with Cassandra, daughter of Priam, king of Troy. But Cassandra was a difficult damsel to please. When Apollo gallantly declared his love to her street smart Cassandra Replied: “But dear Apollo, you are a god. I am but just a mortal beauty. Is this a good match? Love-struck Apollo immediately asked: “Cassandra, my love, what do you want?” The Princess was waiting just for that moment. She answered: “Apollo, you are a god of prophesy. Make me a prophetess. Then only I will return your love.” As love was always blind, Apollo granted the boon without delay. As soon as Cassandra received her power of prophesy, she informed: “Apollo, dear god, wise people always advice never to trust a god. Tell me, how can I trust you that you love me? Besides, after this power of prophesies, we are equal, you see. Now, I’m worthy of Zeus’s love, not yours.”
Apollo got intolerably angry at Cassandra duplicity. He could do nothing about her power of prophesy; the boon was already granted. But the jilted lover gave Cassandra a terrible curse: She will retain her power, but none will believe in her prophecies.
Cassandra suffered her fate to the hilt. In the Trojan War she informed her people what was impending, coming of the Greeks, Hector’s death, the Trojan horse. But none did believe her. Such was Apollo’s curse. After the war was over, and she was given as booty to Agamemnon, she advised the Greek general that he should not return to his kingdom lest his wife murdered him. Agamemnon did not take hid of Cassandra’s mad mutterings and in the process got himself and Cassandra killed by Clytemnestra, his vengeful wife.
As a god of prophecy did Apollo know that Cassandra was going to refuse him? Did he know that poor Daphne would turn into a laurel tree?
Daphne, the beautiful daughter of river god Peneus, dedicated herself to Artemis, goddess of the hunt, and, refused to marry. One day, Apollo, while riding his chariot of sun from east to west, saw Daphne roaming among the woods and, as was his habit, fell instantly in love with her. He descended upon the wood and proposed his love to Daphne, but his object of desire would not listen. Desperate and love-struck, Apollo tried to force her physically. Daphne ran towards the deep jungle to save her izzat. But Apollo would not leave his prize so easily. He pursued her relentlessly. As she ran, she prayed her father to save her from the lusty clutches of Apollo. He father granted her prayers and as Apollo was about to reach her, the river god turned her into a laurel tree (Urvashi too turned into a tree while pursued by her mortal lover Pururuvas). Shocked and devastated, Apollo sat under the tree and wept for his lost love. Finally he decided to give Daphne his final tribute of love by wearing a twig of laurel leaves into his golden crown. Poor Apollo!
Goddesses as lovers suffered even greater tragedy. The Trojan king Priam’s nephew Tithonus, a handsome young man was loved by the goddess of dawn Eos. She also bore him a son, the hero Memnon, king of Ethiopia. But as a goddess, she was not permitted to marry a mere mortal. Eos went to Zeus, king of Gods and prayed for Tithonus’s immortality, which Zeus granted. But in her happiness and in her state of love, Eos forgot to ask for another boon, eternal youth for her lover. Gods were genetically ever-young, men were not. As time passed, Eos remained the same voluptuous and beautiful whereas Tithonus withered away to a decrepit and shrivelled old man who could never die. He was no longer a match for his divine wife and the only thing he could ask for was death. Finally Eos took pity on him and turned him to a grasshopper.
Apollo’s sister Artemis however was smart. She fell in love with the beautiful shepherd boy Endymion and made him sleep eternally so that he could never change and grow old. Adonis was another handsome shepherd loved by two goddesses, Aphrodite, goddess of love and Proserpine, goddess of the underworld. Then poor Adonis was killed by a wild boar. Aphrodite pleaded with Zeus to restore him to her. Zeus decreed that Adonis should spend the winter months with Persephone in Hell and the summer months with Aphrodite.
The tragic chemistry of divine and mortal love in Greek mythology found a happy ending in the Roman myth of Cupid and Psyche. Jealous of Psyche's beauty, Venus, goddess of love, ordered her son, Cupid, to make Psyche fall in love with the ugliest man in the world. The hunter however turned hunted, and Cupid fell in love with Psyche. He carried her off to a secluded palace where he visited her only by night, unseen and unrecognized by her. Although Cupid had forbidden her ever to look upon his face, one night Psyche lit a lamp and looked upon him while he slept. Because she had disobeyed him, Cupid abandoned her, and Psyche was left to wander desolately throughout the world in search of him. Finally, after many trials she was reunited with Cupid and was made immortal by Zeus.
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