Crime And Creativity
On 28 November 2009 i happened to read the Sahitya Akademi Samvatsar Lecture (16) Criminals and Killers: A Personal View, delivered by Vijay Tendulkar in the year 2002. A particular part of the lecture moved me so much that the moment i finished reading the lecture i rang a fried of mine (Vishnu) intending to read out that particular part to him. But I guess Vishnu was busy. He did not receive the call. But i HAD to share the experience of reading something wonderful with someone. And i called up another friend (Divya Lad) and read out a slice of the lecture to her. After listening patiently, in complete silence, to my reading out of a part of the lecture Ms. Lad broke her silence with “Awesome.” Her voice reflected how much that part of the lecture, which is hilarious and serious at the same time, had touched her.
Today on her (Divya Lad) birthday i thought i will type out the part that i had read out to her nearly a week ago and mail, as a birthday gift. And i have typed out a slice of the lecture. But i cant share it with just Divya, so i am sharing it with all of you. Hope you all enjoy this part of the lecture as much as i did, or even the more. Happy reading.
In my fellowship years I met and interviewed several killers and other criminals. Even a serial killer. But one man whom I met in the drawing room of an astrologer fried of mine was the most dangerous. A thoroughly non-violent white collared upper caste middle aged person. Even the memory of that meeting which took place many years ago makes me nervous. I was called by my astrologer friend tome this person one evening. He would send for me when he had a client whom I would find interesting. I was staying within walking distance from his flat. I was not told who I was going to meet. The person I saw sitting in my friend’s drawing room looked indistinct at first glance. He was that type who will not be noticed on the road. A modest build and a face that you feel you have just seen at the corner. He smiled at me and I returned the smile. In the next few minutes I knew that he had a habit of smiling. Before my friend introduced him the man introduced himself.
“I am Joshi. Your respected self?” He sounded very courteous.
I introduced myself.
“Profession?” Joshi asked.
“Writing of sorts. Journalism, plays…”
“Mine if fraud.”
I thought I had not heard right.
“What did you say…?” I asked.
“F-R-A-U-D.” Joshi made it more obvious for me. He was casual and smiling. For a moment I felt completely lost. Did not know what to say about it. My face must have displayed my confused state. Joshi said, “I am sure your friend called you to meet me specifically for this reason. My profession is somewhat odd. Not practiced by many.”
I was still speechless.
“Because the skill involved are not taught in a school or a college and also because it is a profession with a high rate of risk. Risk of being caught and jailed. I am just out of jail on a parole and before I go back I have to get a deal done. I have come to consult this astrologer friend of yours in connection with this deal I want to finalize. No, not whether I should get into it but an auspicious day on which I can clinch it.”
The smile was constant on the face. By this time I had noticed that though the smile was on the face the eyes never smiled. They seemed to dig deep into the other person’s eyes all the time. So much that they made me restless.
“What does a person who writes, earn per- let us say a book or a play?” Joshi put a question to me as if he was interviewing me. I did not like his superior stance. I said, “Depends. Depends on the stature of the writer and the demand for the book or the play. ON how much the book sells or the play runs.”
“Quote a figure.” he pressed me. I quoted a figure.
“And how much time is required to write a book? A play? You can tell me approximately.”
“A year. Two years at times. Depends on the kind of book one writes.”
“Too little.” Joshi quipped and sighed in pity. “Ion my profession I earn this amount in a day. At times in one hour.”
And he had already told me what his profession was. Fraud. Duping innocent people. That he had practiced only this profession for the last twenty years and had been to jail only three times. That too because the time was astrologically bad for him. But business was business and one cannot wait for good times all the time, he said. I felt increasingly annoyed by this man in spite of his courteous tone. He is a criminal and gives me the feel of a superior person. That his profession of fraud is superior to my creative writing. Restraining myself I said, “a respectable profession has other advantages like a respectable life and peace of mind. You don’t harm anyone. You don’t have to worry over matters like being caught and being sent to jail.” “You are right,” Joshi supported my claim. “When you don’t have the guts better stay satisfied where you are and be satisfied with whatever come your way as your earning. My kind of work requires guts. A conviction of mind if I may put it that way. You know I am a believer in certain things.”
“Like?” My tone was uncontrollably sarcastic but he did not seem to mind. “What are your beliefs if I can ask?”
“I claim to be a disciple of Lord Krishna who has authored Bhagawad Geeta. I follow him,” said Joshi.
“What are his teachings according to you?”
“He according to me is the originator of my art. He told Geeta to Arjuna on the battleground of Kurukshetra. Right? What is Geeta? A brainwash. A psychological gimmick. A fine one of its kind. Arjuna did not wish to fight but it was the need of the time that he fought it out with the Kauravas. Krishna knew that what Arjuna felt was right. War is destructive. All wars are. But we fight them. Krishna had to make Arjuna get up and fight. Make him and his men kill and plunder and destroy though in Mahabharata it is described as Sharma-yuddha, a war fought with certain rules. No war is dharma-yuddha. Being extraordinarily intelligent and knowing human psychology as well as the inevitability of human destruction Krishna cheated Arjuna out of his dilemma with great success. What Bhagwan Krishna did was an intellectual trick, a fine fraud, because that war and what happened in it and after it was destiny. Everything was to happen.”
I would have murdered anyone for such an atrocious interpretation of Geeta but Joshi sounded so sure of himself when he said it that I momentarily saw Bhagawad Geeta as a glorious fraud and Krishna, a superior Joshi.
“No, I do not agree with you at all,” I gathered my senses and contradicted him. “On the other hand I now see how you twist facts to suit your purpose. Please don’t compare yourself to Lord Krishna. A cheat is a cheat.”
Of course.” He conceded. “I am not Lord Krishna. I am a small being in front of him. I was only answering your question. You wanted to know about my beliefs. I believe in Geeta and the principles behind it. Very fraud needs to be planned with the utmost care. It must not look like one. Should be worded properly. The one for whom it is meant must feel that the one who dupes him is his benefactor. You must pay attention to psychology. Only then it works. Lord Krishna succeeded because he was God; Joshi fails some times and has to suffer for the failure because he is a human being and capable of making mistakes however hard he tries to be perfect. The best I can do is to keep correcting old mistakes which I do. Never the same mistake for the second time.” I was feeling amused and increasingly annoyed at the same time. What kind of a man was Joshi? I decided not to encourage this man anymore. I turned to my astrologer friend who had called me to meet Joshi and who was watching us both, looking amused. I started a conversation with him side-tracking Joshi. Joshi did not intrude. He waited till I got up and followed me till we were in the open.
“I want to apologize if I have hurt your feelings.” He sounded genuinely apologetic.
“Oh no, nothing of the kind.” I pretended, “It was in the game, Joshi.”
“And I want to make a small request to you if you will not mind.” Joshi said, looking very humble. His hands were folded to emphasize his humble posture.
“You know, my kind of life does not allow one to develop a social circle and keep expanding it and what I need is fresh contacts. I cannot use the same contact again, you know why. Lately I have run out of contacts because of this year in jail.”
“So?” I was half-expecting something terrible to happen. It did. Joshi said next, “You are a writer. Your circle must be large and respectable. Why don’t you introduce me to some of them? Only the moneyed ones.” I was speechless.
“I mean only those who are well off. Not the others. Not writers in any case. Real respectable moneyed stuff.”
“Have you gone off your rocker, Mr. Joshi?” I was trembling with rage.
“No, please don’t misunderstand my request.” Joshi. “You being a writer I expect you to understand what I am saying. If not me, someone is going to do my job these days. Money, after all, has to change hands. Then why not me? I wont involve you after the first introduction. No legal hassles for you, I give you my solemn word.”
“Joshi…” I could not say anything further because of my growing sense of outrage. “It will be absolutely safe, I guarantee. And if you like, there will be money for you. We can make it a nice proposal.”
I left Joshi where he was. Could not sleep that night. For days the memory of Joshi would not let me live my life. This happened in the early seventies.
[Page 21-26, Criminals and Killers: a personal view, Sahitya Akademi Samvatsar Lectures: 16 (2002), by Vijay Tendulkar, published by Shiata Akademi, New Delhi, 2002]
Sanskritization As A Regressive Counter Culture
On 5 July 2009 in Udupi, Karnataka, a seminar on ‘Sanskritization and Vishwakarma Brahmins‘ was organized where i was invited to give reactions to the day long lectures. The organizers, now, have brought out a souvenir where published are all the lectures and the reaction voiced in the seminar. Here i am sharing my paper with you all:
The concept of sanskritization has to be seen as a counter-culture. Sanksritization is in conversation with the hegemony of brahminhood, which all through history has not accepted the people of lower caste as an important part of human civilization, human society. It is the craving among the lower caste people for an acceptance from the higher caste which triggered the trend of following and imitating the rituals and culture of the higher caste. After all who doesn’t need acceptance? Look at the 12th century poet Basavanna. He says: Nudidarey Linga Mechchi Ahudu Ahudu Enabeku, (When you speak Lord Shiva should appreciate it and agree to it) which is a mirror to the fact that man wants acceptance from God too and not just from human beings.
The lower caste people, in their innocence, believed heart in heart that through imitation, they could become one among the higher caste people, stand with them and gain acceptance from them. Hence sanskritization is to be viewed as a counter-culture which is, in a way, trying to counter the hegemony of one caste and the hegemony of one culture.
But the counter-culture named sanskritization is a regressive counter-culture and not a progressive one. Any counter-culture or counter-hegemonic culture becomes progressive and not regressive when the very hegemonic space and icon is challenged and broken. By merging or becoming one with the hegemonic icon or space, a counter culture becomes a partner or replacement of hegemony, which doesn’t inaugurate a new history of and for the world.
To quote example from the 18th century Adivasi revolt in Puri Jagannath temple, Orissa, one can say it was an existential revolt which was progressive in nature. The temple earlier belonged to the Adivasis, which later was hijacked by the higher caste people. The God and the temple which once belonged to the Adivasi’s now became an icon of exploitation of the Adivasi’s. So the Adivasi’s went to burn the idol of Jagannatha and temple at Puri saying “Daaru Pratima Na Poojive.”
In this revolt, the Adivasi’s went on to burn the God which was theirs once, for existential reason. The point to be focused here is that though the God and the temple, once belonged to them had become an icon of exploitation. So destroying or burning it down meant destabilizing the hegemony and exploitation too. It did not long to share the space with the exploiter and make space for exploitation to continue. Hence the “Daaru Pratima Na Poojive” revolt can be referred to as a progressive revolt.
Now coming to the matter of Vishwakarma community, according to M.N. Shrinivas, being Sanskritized, it should be noted that the community of Vishwakarmas, during pre-Aryan times, enjoyed Brahminical status because of their association with Brahma who is known as the Srishtikartha (Creator). But with the invasion of Aryan’s Vishwakrma people’s Brahminical status started eroding and finally they lost their Brahminical status with Aryan’s abolishing the worship of Lord Brahma. The study of M.N. Shrinivas unfortunately doesn’t go back so far in history and starts somewhere from the time when the Vishwakarmas have already lost their Brahminical status in the society even while practicing Brahminical life style.
Earlier in the day a speaker in this very same stage made fun of M.N. Shrinivas for having renamed his concept from Brahminisation to Sankritization. The speaker said it reflected his inconsistency. I refute this because M.N. Shrinivas earlier in his study saw that the lower caste people were imitating the life style of Brahmins and called it Brahminization and later in the course of his study he found out that there were evidences where the lower caste people were imitating the life style of non-Brahmincal upper caste people too, who in that given geographical area enjoyed a powerful status. Hence he renamed the concept of Brahminization as Sankritization. Gandhi, in an early stage of his life declared that “God is truth,” which he changed to “Truth is God,” at a later stage of his life. At the end of his life, being witness to communal violence of Indo-Pak partition, Gandhi is said to have expressed his desire that all men turned atheists.
This changing nature of belief system of Gandhi is to be viewed as reinventing truths which is a journey into the heart of truth or to use words of Gandhi himself they are “experiments with truth.” Similarly the renaming of the concept of Brahminisation to Sanskritization is not a mirror to the inconsistency of M.N. Shrinivas but his continuing journey to the heart of truth. But unfortunately the journey of M.N. Shrinivas, with reference to his comments on the community of Vishwakarma community doesn’t reach the heart of truth.Thank You.
Come Take, I Have A Dream For You.
Finally. After searching in all possible places, for more than a year, i have laid my hands on the book UNHEARD VOICES by my senior friend and my teacher Harsh Mander. As one opens the book, in one of the opening pages, one will find a poem, which was written by Harsh Sir’s sister Preet Mander (1952-74) Here i am sharing the poem with you all:
Come take,
I have a dream for you.
A dream of jewelled days.
Of winter passing
on to warmth
And drought quenched
by rain.
Come take,
I have a wish for you.
A wish that teaches
all your griefs to laugh.
That heals your wounds
by proudly baring them
to air and warmth.
That takes your pains
for bricks to slowly build
truth’s safeguards.
Come take,
I have a gift for you
Of love
And love.
A touchstone
Television And Public Space
I woke up and looked out of the window, out of habit, to check how far we had reached. All I saw was foam like clouds everywhere. Oh! I am not on the road I told myself and told myself how boring a journey on air was. While travelling on road or track one can look around at the beauty and ugliness of the world. But while on air all one can see is just the blue sky and foam like clouds.
As I stared at the foam like clouds I realized that the outside environ resembled certain sets of mythological cinema and television serials where either Narada or some other Gods and Goddesses walked and met and conversed. It was with such foam like clouds in the background that the arrows would travel and multiply in the mythological serials. I laughed as I recollected all those images of cinema and television serials. I went back in time and landed in my childhood recollecting these images of mythological cinema and television serials.
My nostalgic flight was interrupted by my neighbor who asked me for The Hindu which I had in my hand. As I passed on the paper I too felt like reading something and picked up the magazine (published by the Jet people themselves I guess) that was placed before me. I flipped through the pages finding nothing interesting till an article by one Charukeshi Ramadurai caught hold of my eyes. Coincidentally it was an article celebrating the golden jubilee of Doordarshan in India.
Speaking about how as a child he waited for the song ‘Miley Sur Mera Tumhaara’ and how religiously they watched ‘Raamayan’, ‘Mahabharath’, ‘Hum Log’, ‘Surabhi’, ‘Rangoli’ Charukeshi mentioned about how his neighbors would assemble at his place every Wednesday evening to watch ‘Chitrahaar’.
It was a common phenomenon during the early days of Doordarshan when not every house had a television set. Whichever house had a television set became a public space. People from the nearby houses came and watched television.
As I read about people from nearby houses coming to Charukeshi’s house to watch Chitrahaar I remembered the days when my sister and I would go to a nearby house in Manipal to watch ‘Mahabharath’. This continued till we got a television set at home. In that house only my sister and I were outsiders and hence it was not a public space in its real sense.
But when my sister and I used to be in Byndoor (grandparents place) we would go to the neighboring Muslim house to watch television. The nearby Muslim families, Hindu families and also Dalit families came to watch ‘Mahabharath.’ We mingled with everyone and made friends with everyone. This was not tolerated by grandfather’s younger brother who would ask us as to why we mingled with ‘other’ people. But we never listened to him and what broke the barrier was the television and the public space that it created.
A near by house was of a relative with whom our family in Byndoor was not in talking terms. It has been so from the time I have known Byndoor and my grandparents. The elders of the two houses would never talk to each other. The children of that family also came to watch television in the Muslim house where we went to watch television, for it was the only house in the immediate environment. They spoke to us and we spoke to them in the public space that the television had created. But we never dared to speak about this friendship back at home. When we interacted with them we realize that the so called enemy was also more or less like us who laughed and cried and also watched ‘Mahabharath’ like us. But we dint say ‘Hi’ or ‘Hello’ to them if we were to cross paths while with elders, in the village. Our friendship was created by and around the television set and the public space it created.
Soon our grandfather brought a television set at home and the even the enemy family had a television set at their home. The television set had started entering every house and was creating private space and no more public space. But still there were certain families which did not own television sets even after we got a television set in Byndoor. Most of them were the Dalit families. They either continued to go to the Muslim houses to watch television or would watch television in our house standing outside the door but never coming in. It appears like even technology couldn’t break the Brahminical hegemony. Technology had its own limitations. Or rather Brahminical hegemony had swallowed technology too.
Today almost every house has a television set. Some have more than one- one for every room. The public space that television once created has vanished. In many places, where every room has a television set, it creates just individual spaces and not even family spaces.
Lakshmi At Vishnu’s Feet
Listening to music on his mobile he smiled. I returned the smile. He was one of the service boys. The old couple who were there had got down from the train at some ungodly hour. The seat now was empty and he taking a break from the neighboring pantry car occupied the empty seat and was listening to music.
I could hear the music he was listening to as I was moving my mind and my eyes on the book my hand was holding. All of a sudden the music stopped. The man was not in his relaxed state and was looking into my eyes. I could read in his eyes that he had something to say. As I waited for him to say something he breathed deeply. Breaking the silence after a while, he said, “I have observed this. Girls are not the same after their marriage.”
Even before I could ask myself as to why he was telling me this and what was making him voice this question stopping the music, he continued to say, “The light on their face vanishes once they get married.” Quoting the example of his own sister he said, “I feel the chain around her when I see her now. But it was not so when she was not married.” He stopped his flow of words the way he had stopped the music. He went back to the pantry car but I could not go back to my book. Instead I went back to Bangalore where a week ago I had met Divya on my way back home.
It was after a year that I met Divya and like always we spoke about the books that we had read, the movies/plays that we had watched, the music that we had listened to. The rivulet of our conversation made its own way beyond our guidance. It reached the issue of women and marriage after a while. Speaking about how women are not treated as ‘subjects’ but as ‘objects’/ ‘things’ she asked me, “Why do parents feel relieved after they get their daughter married?” I couldn’t stop myself from recollecting the various instances where my mother had told me that she would sleep peacefully only when she would get my sister married.
There was something seriously wrong with the collective unconscious which did not treat women with dignity, it appeared to me even the more when Divya raised this question.
Divya later narrated an incident where a colleague of Vinu (Divya’s husband) said “I will give full freedom to my wife.” Divya raised objection about this whole idea about men “giving” freedom to their wives. “Have we women deposited our freedom under your shoes for you people to give it in installment to us?” she asked. I was silent. “Did men give ears, eyes, hands, nose to their wives? We were born with it. And we were also born with our freedom. What do you mean by you people giving us our freedom?” she continued. My silence also continued.
“Once while I was cooking in the kitchen my husband came and said that he would help me in my work,” recollected Divya. “What did he mean by helping me in my work?” she raised objection and pointed at the patriarchal mind set operating behind the statement. The mind set believes that cooking is women’s work and if men lend their hand then it is a work of generosity and help.
As we continued to speak another friend Rajesh came home. I introduced Divya to Rajesh and Rajesh to Divya. And as one can expect they asked one another about other details about each other. Rajesh asked Divya “Where are you from?” and Divya said “My native is near Siddapura but Dad settled in Udupi and I was brought up there. My husband’s house is also near Siddapura but he is settled in Bangalore.” As she gave this piece of information she turned towards me and asked, “Where is my house?” I was struck by this question. Her house of childhood was her ‘father’s house,’ her native is her ‘grand fathers house’ and her current house is her ‘husbands house.’ I guess every woman would come up with similar answer if asked where they were from. The identity the roots of a women is rooted in the male soil. Divya who was raising objection about this patriarchal mentality, which had seeped into the collective unconscious and sensibility of women also, could not escape from it completely.
Now when I sit and recollect these conversations I ask myself if what the service boy said is true. Yes he was true. But partially and not completely, it appears to me. Because there is a “chain around the neck” even when a girl says “My native is so and so” as much as it is when she says “my dad settled in such and such a place so I belong there,” and “after marriage we shifted to such and such a place so I belong to such and such a place now.” Everywhere one can see that the woman is not free. Not even free to claim that the house of which she is the homemaker as her own house. It is either ‘fathers place’ or ‘husbands place.’
Patriarchal mind set, as I said earlier, has seeped into the collective psyche of woman too.
A friend of mine who got engaged recently is discovering the ‘manly’ side of her fiancée. The man who was broadminded till the engagement was fixed was rediscovered as a narrow minded person after the engagement was fixed. Once they exchanged rings her fiancée was rediscovered again as not narrow minded but more or less mindless. She expressed her suffocation with her fiancée. But when some of her friends ask her to come out of the relationship immediately, saying it is not late even now, she takes shelter in statements like “His ego will get hurt,” “If I come out of this how will my parents face the situation?” “He has helped me,” and “I am already dependent on him.”
Is the man’s ego more important than the life of the girl? Is the dignity of the family more important than the life of the girl? Should the girl repay the help of a man by giving away her freedom and peace of mind? But the question what pricks me the most is “Why is it that always we hear about women/ wives being dependent on men/husbands and why is it that we don’t get to hear the other way round?”
This friend of mine has discussed feminism and “fight patriarchy” issues several times with me and our friends circle over our chai sessions. But today I have a feeling that she has not still fought the patriarchy within her. The ‘enemy’ which she saw everywhere also resides within her and she must have failed to recognize the enemy inside who had, through the patriarchal environment, seeped into her subconscious and unconscious.
One of the important writers of Kannda- Vaidehi- once told me, “After opening the seven doors of heaven what we see is Godess Lakshmi sitting at Lord Vishnu’s feet. The day our minds eye, our subconscious, our unconscious, our myths, our mythologies see Lord Vishnu and Godess Lakshmi sitting together and not as Lakshmi sitting at Vishnu’s feet that women would be liberated. Vaidehi was referring to the hidden patriarchal image in our mythology in our myth and our collective unconscious. When we fight the patriarchy inside the patriarchy outside will also be conquered.
As I sit and muse over this and analyze these I attempt to look within myself and try to locate the patriarchy within me. I know it exists within me too. It has, for sure, seeped in, through the patriarchal environment, into my subconscious and unconscious too. I need to fight it. We need to fight it.
Hind Swaraj- 100 Years
New Delhi: Lines written in Gujarati on two plain sheets, one tilting towards right and the other towards left. The right tilting words have more breathing space between the lines and the latter with left. The earlier one was written with right hand and the latter one with left hand, but both were written by the same man in one stretch as a part of a single text. The year 2009 is being observed as the centenary year of this text titled Hind Swaraj or Indian Home Rule which was penned in 1909 by M.K. Gandhi.
Courtesy: amazon.com
To commemorate the centenary year of Hind Swaraj, National Gandhi Museum has organized an exhibition titled ‘Hind Swaraj-100 year’ at the National Gandhi Museum. The exhibition opens with the photo of the ship R.M.S. Kildonan Castle which sets the physical context of the writing of the text. It was while travelling by this ship from England to South Africa, between November 13 and 30, that Gandhi penned the text of Hind Swaraj. Next to this opening photo of the exhibition is the photo of the handwritten sheets of Hind Swaraj, one written with the right hand and the other with the left hand. This reflects the intensity of the involvement of Gandhi and the uncontrollable overflow of thoughts in him while writing Hind Swaraj.
The exhibition from here continues to go into and take, the viewers, into the heart and soul of Hind Swaraj. Photos of pocket watches, popularly known as Gandhi watch, Gandhi looking through a microscope, the S.S. Rajputana ship which Gandhi took to attend the round table conference in the year 1931, his photo at the Safdarjung airport, which are supported by texts of Hind Swaraj on machine era and machinery in general, which are critical in nature.
The flow is suddenly interrupted with several recent newspaper paper cuttings carrying headlines and reports on H1N1. This photo is supported with the text from Hind Swaraj: “The railways, too, have spread the bubonic plague. Without them, the masses could not move from place to place. They are the carriers of plague germ.” This collage of H1N1 report and the text of Hind Swaraj appear like reinventing and re-reading of Hind Swaraj in a different time period where Plague has to be replaced with H1N1. But the underlying meaning of the text Hind Swaraj remains the same despite the change in the name of the disease.
The photos of war tanks and women being trained to use weapons are juxtaposed not just with the Gandhian non-violent methods of protest lead by Gandhi but also about his comments on war and violence in his text Hind Swaraj. This is followed with the display of Khadi handkerchief and photos of people spinning Khadi and C. Rajgopalachari working the field using a plough. This set of photos is titled ‘Production by the masses.’ This is followed by a set of photos under the title ‘Mass production,’ including a photo of Nehru on a tractor. This placing of photos and naming them puts forth, before the viewers, the debate of Gandhi in his work. The ‘Mass production’ photos are juxtaposed with the lines, “We cannot condemn mill owners; we can only pity them,” from Hind Swaraj.
The exhibition ends with Gandhi’s views on education and the photo of Kishore Sinhji Primary School at Rajkot where Gandhi studied and photos of certain rural experiments of Self-Rule in the rural parts of India which has given birth to the Gandhi’s after Gandhi.
Interestingly the book Hind Swaraj which was first published in the columns of Indian Opinion, edited by Gandhi, was banned by the then Bombay government. Today it is one of the most important texts for people involved in the works of alternative development and also political science. The celebration of its centenary through a collage of photos and quotes from the book appears meaningful.
Born to a dewan in an urban family, getting city education and going to London for higher studies, the working in South African cities, mainly Durban, Gandhi even after returning to India started operating in the cities. It was only after being advised by his political teacher Gopalkrishan Gokhale that Gandhi goes to explore the village. Later he started appearing like a man from the village. This was when he was in his late forties. But the book Hind Swaraj was written when he was forty.
Pointing out at these details from Gandhi’s life Ashis Nandy asks, “How did a finished product of the city begin to speak and even look like a villager? Was there latent in Gandhi a retrievable imagination of the village which he could revive when he physically countered the village? The answer may well be that the village was never dead within him. Its survival within him was ensured through rituals, folklores, epics, legends and myths to which he was exposed through the tradition of his family peer group, caste, sect and language. That imagination was waiting to be reclaimed. When Gandhi reclaimed the village within him, he could easily slip into the role of a larger than life Indian village headman. He had been only apparently an outsider.”
Gandhi himself once said that as he was writing Hind Swaraj, Hind Swaraj wrote him. The village within Gandhi was surfacing while he wrote Hind Swaraj it appears. If the exhibition, which will go on till September 2010, can reclaim the villages within at least a few of the visitors who are “apparently an outsider”, it is worth it.
Dr. U R Ananthamurthy’s Statement In Response To The Invitation To The People’s Audit Of The Mangalore SEZ
I think the British used a cruder but more dangerous version of SEZ to capture India. Madras, Calcutta and so on, one by one. “Development” has become a word for dis-empowering common people making their languages, food habits, even taste trivial.
We need a great woman like Medha Patkar who tirelessly agitates against this SEZ.
Even when we were poor in the past, I remember my mother found some jackfruit, and some tasty and nutritious leaves of plant to feed us. Now in these SEZs only some have plenty of imported food and the poor are not only poorer, they are hungry and under nourished for there are no more backyards with hidden food and sweet water wells. There will be nobody for the poor to gossip with and no innocent entertainment like Yakshagana.
SEZs are money making hells, We must fight them
U.R.Ananthamurthy
07-11-2009
Familiar Strangers
I saw him this morning again and I was delighted. We dint exchange smile, as usual. But we crossed paths again, as usual. He was not to be seen during the past few days and I during his absence I kept telling Faizan, “I guess, he is ill.” I said this to Faizan several times and once Faizan asked me “Who?” and I said, “I don’t know his name. But people refer to him as Sharma Ji.” Yes, I did not know the name of this man with whom I crossed paths everyday and whose absence did matter to me.
Sharma Ji, is a chai-wala near here, from who has been serving me chai whenever I felt like having chai. His tea stall has no shelter. He sits by the road, under a tree, and with a hand pump stove makes tea. I have never spoken to him other than the usual dialogues of “ek chai… bade cup mein” and “kitna hua?” and he has not replied anything but, “chaar,” or “khulle nahi hai?” As I said, I don’t know his name nor does he know my name. I have overheard people, who like me come to him for a cup of chai, referring to him as Sharma Ji and I have learnt that his second name is Sharma. What made me feel this man’s absence and worried if he was ill? It is a speechless bonding that has been created between us in our silent trysts over some period now.
The last time I saw him, before today, as he saw me, he bent the tea pot to pour chai into a cup and before the chai flowed out of the tea pot he stopped. Yes, he stopped and kept down the tea pot. He had realized that he was pouring tea not into the “bada wala cup.” He stretched his hand to the “bada wala cup” and handed over the chai to me in the “bada wala cup.”
The moment Sharma Ji stopped and stretched his hand to the “bada wala cup,” I was moved deeply. He knew me and my taste, though we had never interacted with each other. He has many customers, like me, who come to him everyday but still he knew what my taste was. May be he knows that of every regular customer of his.
Press Cart and the Wisdom Tree (Photo Courtesy: Pankaj Gupta)
I was reminded, as I sipped tea in the “bada wala cup,” of Press Cart of Manipal. Press cart, for those who don’t know, is situated in Manipal between our institute (Manipal Institute of Communication) and Udayavani (a leading Kannda daily) press. It serves mainly the pres workers who work on nigh shift. The shop opens at around 4 in the evening and is open till 2 in the night. Ever evening after classes (as a student and also as a faculty in MIC) we would go sit under the tree (which we called ‘wisdom tree’) and order something to eat and several cups of tea from the press cart and discuss various serious and not so serious matters under the tree sipping the press cart tea. We shared an intimate relationship with the cooks of Press Cart, though we interacted less with them.
Once Shipla (Sunil Sir’s wife) and I were sitting at Press Cart waiting for Sunil Sir to come out of MIC. Shilpa suddenly felt like hacving chakkuli (a fried item round in shape) and asked the cook of Press Cart to get “two” chakkuli. And the cook came towards us and handed over one chakkuli to Shipla and said “he,” pointing towards me,” doesn’t eat chakkuli.” I was surprised that evening to know that the cook at Press Cart did know my taste and also the items which I eat and I don’t. The cook there would never fill the cup completely for Varadesh Sir for he knew that Sir always has only half a cup of tea.
After I resigned from MIC, still I would go to press cart, at times and always the cook there would ask me “where are you these days? Not to be seen around.” And I know that he asks me this not because he lost a customer but because he too, unknowingly, has made me a part of his world. Like I felt the absence of Sharma Ji, the cook of Press Cart too felt my absence.
It interests me as to how these familiar strangers become a part of our life and how we strike a bond with them, to the extent that the absence of one person really matters to the other.
Recently while coming back home I took a cycle rickshaw and as I got down I realized that I did not have the required change but had only a hundred rupee note. I went to the nearby electrical shop and asked if he had two fifty rupee note and his reply was negative. Then I went to the small grocery shop near by from where we (Faizan, Shoaib and I) usually buy bread and noodles. I asked him if he had change for Rs. 100. He said he dint have. I got worried because I dint know what to do and immediately I hear the shopkeeper’s voice. He asks me, “You have to pay the rickshaw fellow is it?” and I nod my head indicating “yes.” The shopkeeper asked me, “how much?” “Twenty,” I said. He pulled is table drawer and gave me a twenty rupee note and said “you can repay me later.” I took the money paid the rickshaw fellow and returned to the shop thanked the shopkeeper and said “I will return the money soon.” With a warm smile, holding my hand, he said “you are like a family member I trust you.” I was moved by the expression “family member” which this shopkeeper, another familiar stranger, used to refer to me.
How did I become his family member? Why should he have given me the money to pay the rickshaw fellow? Why should have the cook of press cart feel my absence and why should have I felt the absence of Sharma Ji? We are all familiar strangers to each other. But something bonds us. This bonding is beyond speech and expression to me.
Musing over the bonding I share with these familiar strangers, I wonder is such a bonding can be struck with shopkeepers of a big shop or a branded shop? Even if we start recognizing each other and pass smile whenever we meet, in the big and branded shops, would we feel each others absence? Would that shopkeeper consider me as his family member?
I guess globalization, which has been contributing a lot to branded shops, has robbed something beautiful from our civilization. But we still have some Sharma Ji in a corner of a road preparing chai, with his heart, for several familiar strangers like me. There are still some like the cook of Press Cart who feel the absence of a familiar stranger like me. There is still a shopkeeper, whose name I do not know, who tells me that I am like his family member. May these small shops survive in the age of globalization. Amen!
Liberation Through Theatre
Dakxin Bajrange, founder member of the Budhan Theater in Charanagar, Ahmedabad is all set to leave to U.K. for his studies in Theater with the help of the fellowship he has received from the Ford Foundation.
Shifting the focus from himself to his community members, at this point, Mr. Bajrange said, “Chharanagar now enjoys a distinct identity as an ‘actor’s colony’. Many of its inhabitants are employed in reputed places of work; and two of its artists have made entries into prestigious National School of Drama, earning name for themselves as well as for the city of their birth. Another member of their community is a casting director in a Hollywood film production named Patang. Yet another is studying drama at a local college, and one of its major actors is a journalist, and crime reporter for a national daily called DNA. Another youth is working for TV 9, a Gujarati news channel, anchoring a programme on crime; whereas a female counterpart has made her name into Gujarati film industries.”
It is but natural for anyone to ask what is so great about all these. Mr. Bajrange and the people of Charanagar belong to a de-notified tribe called Chara.
What is de-notified tribe?
Britishers tagged million of People of India named them ‘Born Criminals’ to create ‘Criminal Tribes Act – 1871′. An inhuman act, branded 192 tribal ‘Born Criminals’ and make worst life of such communities, put them into different settlement (like Nazi – concentration camps) and restricted their movements who were traditionally nomads and performers.
The British policy makers, baffled by some indigenous itinerary ways of some of the tribes and nomad groups of India, transfixed them in the category of hereditary criminals. Such unnatural legislation coupled with newly imposed forest laws and revenue policies deprived many of the itinerants of their livelihood, which led them into petty crime for sustenance, which reinforced the idea of ‘hereditary criminal traits’. This piece of legislation called the Criminal Tribes Act was enacted by the British Government in 1871 and was periodically revised to vest the police with more power.
The Act authorized the local governments to establish industrial, agricultural or reformatory schools and settlements for the ‘Criminal Tribe’ members. In such cases, the members were not allowed to venture outside the enclosure without a pass, which was issued at the discretion of the manager of the settlement. The law not only restricted their movement to certain area, but made them venerable to all sorts of brutality and excesses.
Let’s look into this act’s page no 356: “Any eunuch so registered who appears, dressed or ornamented like woman, in a public street or place, or any other place, with the intention of being seen from a public street or place, or who dances or plays music, or takes part in any exhibition, in a public street or place or for a hire in private house may be arrested without warrant and shall be punished with imprisonment of either description for a term which may extend to two years, or with fine or with both”
This is an ideal example that how British dominated traditional talents of nomadic communities and seen as criminals. Due to tainted history as nomads social stigmas have developed about the DNTs situating them at considerable disadvantage in competing for employment and education. They have become scapegoats and usual suspects for police, placing them in constant uneasy relation to authority and that has resulted in an extremely high rate of incarceration.
Charas
The Chharas of Gujarat, also known as Sansis in Punjab and Kanjars in Rajasthan, were indigenous and nomadic people of the Punjab region who were “notified” and settled by an order of the British colonial government in the 1930s, in a colony called Chharanagar and rehabilitated as industrial and agricultural labor.
Released from the forced labor camp which had been their prison for the past forty years, the Chharas were resettled at the outskirts of Ahmedabad, in Chharanagar. Roughly three square miles, with a population of over twenty thousand, Chharanagar is primarily known for its home brewed liquor – illegal in the dry state of Gujarat. The government of Gujarat gave them provisional land in front of the settlement, but also set up a police station to keep a close watch on them.
Accustomed to being imprisoned, beaten, extorted and humiliated over the decades, a cumulative anger always burned in the Chharas. The educated among them were denied employment after the name ‘Chharanagar’ was discovered on their resumes, and earnest students were shunted from good schools. Punished once by the past, and twice by a people who maliciously remember it, the Chhara youths were desperately seeking a remedy to break through this vicious circle. With faith in education and inspired by Mahasweta Devi, a literary figure and activist of repute and Ganesh Devi, a scholar-writer committed to the cause of the adivasis and de-notified tribes of India, they decided to jettison the life of crime lived by their parents.
Liberation through theatre
“Theatre Art is used by our forefathers for thieving. Sorry I can’t explain it in detail as it is still survival of our some of people. It was Invisible Theatre. This art was in our genes. We used it for social change and community development. We didn’t inherit our ancestor’s crimes but we did retain that artistic strain. And a play group by the name of ‘Budhan Theatre’ was founded on 31st August 1998 in commemoration of the day when India’s first Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, lifted the stigma of criminality from the settled tribes in 1952. 5 years after Independence,” recollects Mr. Bajrange
What is Budhan Theatre? Is it concrete made Theatre or auditorium? Is it practicing conventional plays? Or what kind of plays? Who are the performers in it? Why they are performing Theatre Art since last 11 years? Where it is? Let’s glance in the Art who changed identity and lives of Stigmatized Group.
Budhan Theatre is Tradition, Culture, Transformation, Weapon to Protest on a Non- Violent way and medium of development which began in 1998 in the infamous area known as Chharanagar in Ahmedabad City. People had a mindset that it is a ghetto of ‘Thieves’ and Bootleggers. The Charas were always ‘Forever Suspect’ in the eye of legal and judiciary system.
In 1998 with the help of Dr. Ganesh Devy and Mahasveta Devi Theatre journey began and the Charas performed a play Budhan, a play based on the custodial death of Budhan Sabar in Purulia District by West Bengal police. The play was penned by Mr. Bajrange. The play performed over 300 shows in schools, collages, institutes, seminars and festivals. In fact Budhan Theatre has strong relation with violence as most of plays of Budhan Theatre based on the atrocities on de-notified tribes. Through Theatre art, the youth of Budhan Theatre are fighting but on a non violent way.
Budhan Theater made and performed 21 plays among them 8 plays were performed by Chhara children. Now they learn how to express themselves through Theatre Art and develop Theatre. They are writing, directing and composing plays.
Budhan Theatre has performed street plays to raise awareness about the condition of their likes. Their goal is to demonstrate that Chharas are not “born criminals,” they are humans with real emotions, capacities, and aspirations. Each of their productions has dramatized the events surrounding custodial deaths, abductions, beatings and torture of such tribes across the map of the country. At present, a matured Budhan Theatre is reaching out to other similarly stigmatized communities and including their stories in its repertoire.
“By Practicing Theatre in Budhan Theatre, I can see the transformation of performer, community and place where people did not want to come. And now Chharanagar is being identified as a Theatre Activity Centre and slowly, people are coming to Chharanagar,” said Mr. Bajrange with great satisfaction.
In fact, Budhan Theatre is reviving tradition art of Chharas in a positive manner for social change and community development and being develop as a potential cultural platform to raise voice of Denotified Tribes against all odds and atrocities. Budhan Theatre is trying to remove a Criminal Stigma on Chhara Tribe. Through theatre the Charas are sensitizing mainstream societies for social acceptance and to the system for our fundamental and human rights.
“On 31st Aug. 2008, the Charas celebrated Budhan@ten and performed play ‘Ek Aur Balcony’, inspired by French playwright Jean Genat’s La Balcon. In last 10 years we had performed specifically focused ‘Violence’ depicted real life plays and when we were opening Ek Aur Balocy on 31st Aug. 2008, we did not expect that too much audience because we were first time performing in the heart of town. But, when curtain went up we saw entire auditorium was over crowded,” recollects Mr. Bajrange and adds to it, “It’s proved that Violence on Denotified Tribes accepted by wider audience and it is day by day increasing. To perform violence is becoming an Acceptance from the rest of world and acceptance is opening various kind of livelihood options and slowly the stigmatized community is transforming from Past to present and that is all due to THEATRE.”
This write up is majorly based on the paper that Dakxin Bhai presented in Udupi (December, 2008) and partial on my recent meeting with him in Delhi. I have merged the both and tried giving a feature like look to it
The Men
The Truth Of My Prologue Is This: Down With Sleazy
Romanticists!
With Experts In The Ineffable!
I Am Just Like The Others: The Colombian Lady Professor,
The Philadelphian Rotarian, The Drummer
From Paysandu Who Cashed In A Bundle
To Get Here. In A Mishmash Of Languages,
By Dissimilar Routes We All Come Upon: Silence.
- Pablo Neruda
(Late And Posthumous Poems. 1968-1974)
