Thursday, July 6, 2017

Arundhati's Ministry of Utmost Happiness

Arundahati Roy's title of her new novel The Ministry of Utmost Happiness should be read upside down to make the  utmost sense, since the novel is a constant somersaults of laughter and tears bound together by the mysterious force of 'Khuda Bharose ka juggad' (Faith on God and his contingents) that runs a vast sub-continent.

Its a novel surveying a widespread canvas, bircolaging varied elements to a delicious smorgasbord of a delicious 'kichda' of a dish that combines the disparate elements on an another level altogether, with utmost skill of a creative artist, playfully at serious work.

The Novel is profound and cathartic. Let is hope it reaches many.



The narrative intertwines a Chaos called India positioned on the virgule between opposing forces, thus symbolizing subversion of knowledge based on binary structural opposition. Despite the fractured and fragmented narrative, the containment of the Chaos is amoeba like, which although having a constantly changing shape, still possesses a shape at every second of its nomadic movement. Also, like the amoeba, the narrative fits into every 'gali'(lane) and 'kooncha'(by lane) that it chooses to flow in, never spilling out of control or dispersal. The various threads are looped together in a magical realism knot on the shaky ground between the multiple protagonist's feet, namely the graveyard which becomes populated by both the living and the dead.

That is today's India. We live, both with the dead and the death constantly close at hand. With the ever growing insurgencies and intolerance of a nation where Politics drives a constant wedge and splits the nation in the name of religion and sectarianism for its expedient mileage and profit;  we are a nation heading towards implosion.

The author, with the use of various devices that include the epistolary and diary entries, as well as the various voices of numerous protagonists. Poses several question for the readers to mull over and realize the futility of waging losing wars. Not only that, the novel is a stark revelation about doublespeak, exposing the shame of a nation that is happily, like a content cat, lapping the lies fed to them by both the media and the politicians.


Sunday, July 2, 2017

The Immortal cows of India





Following is the conversation which was heard by some passersby, as they came across some cows chatting by a Coodah Container:
COW 1:  Arey Behno! Have you heard the best news ever, one which has been flashing on the TV screens of Indian Humans, these days? It seems that our patience has finally paid off. We are going to be near ‘immortal here’ soon, replacing the ‘soon hereafter’ that we have been up till now.
COW 2:  What are you saying Behen! This is such an udderly exciting news! Since when did the milk of human kindness begin to flow in our direction? I thought that we were the only ace milk givers to this nation long before since “Amul doodh peeta hai India”!
COW 3: Arey pagli! You talk like a mad cow. It seems that all that plastic and bones that you ate from that garbage mound last week, has im-poroused your brain. Milk flows only out of our udders towards them, not the other way round! Vaise badi Behen Cow1 ji, I feel that the news is only a partial truth. We will only cease to go into cans while out astitva in the poly-bags remains  status quo. But I must say that chalo, in this country justice (albeit in a twisted sense) does get served. We are as much u[i]nto polybags as polybags are u[i]nto us. The ‘Ooper Wala’ of this nation has finally been kind enough to send us cow police or our guardian gaurakshaks, so what, even if more people have a ‘shak’ about our protection and upkeep.
COW 2: But sisters, come to ruminate about this, don’t you think that ever since the Carnivore’s carving knife fell silent, the current cow crusaders still fail to provide us the ever promised, yet always elusive Cosy Corner? After all, we deserve our holy space, what being the Matas that we are! I mean, just look at us, we have been perched precariously on these wobbly mounds of poly-bags, paper and our own shit day in and day out as the speeding vehicles and times whizz by!
COW 3: Pagli, you are such an Allah Mian ki Gai. Arey these people are justice loving and fair to most, especially more- equal- than- other forms of creation. So much so, that they treat us exactly like they treat their own mothers. Don’t you see all those old women begging on the streets? These are their Maas, set out by them on the roads to earn their own garbage!
COW 2: What is a Allah Mian ki Gai Behen 3?
COW 3:  Perhaps the same as Shiv Ji ki Gai, for all I know. But this I know for sure that all the baying for our blood has finally stopped while the marketing of our milk has increased. They say that no one has to worry about our population explosion, even though our nature conservation massacre has been put an end to. Also, they says that we don’t have to worry about our population boom despite those permanently randy- out- of- season foreign bulls, that were brought in from Europe to impregnate us with their supposedly alpha sperms. I tell you Behno! These fellows, when they are let loose, are as loose charactered as their countrymen! They have no Laaj- sharam or Lihaz of our traditional seasonal practice! (Sigh!) But how can you expect these Angrez bulls to know. I tell you! I have no interest in these White Hides. I am white enough myself. No need to hanker after them. Why! The other day, this foreign fellow was lowing at me in heat. But I tossed my head away giving him my grand ignore. My poor sisters, who have been ravished by these blue blooded imperial bulls fall into bovine blues, suffering permanent pregnancies all the year round. This really makes me see red!!
COW 2: You are so right my Bovine sister. All that copious European science and engineering does seem to have turned their bulls into lewd and licentious libertines; which is being used on us and has made our population go haywire by rising so exponentially. Also, with our recent mortality rate come down to near zero, under the guardianship of the vigilantes, our number has seen a noticeable rise. So much so, that our ex- khasai-slaughterers have developed a fear psychosis of seeing themselves as being trampled into Kheema under our largely multiplying hooves!
COW 1: So true Behen. Still, they have nothing to fear, they should know. What with our calves being plucked from our udders all the while so that humanity can receive their hisse ka milk. Our poor babies are going to die a natural death from starvation, quite rapidly in the near future; since these humans, our protectors now need every drop of our milk to Maha- bathe their postmodern dieties like Rajnikant , blown to mega- proportions in their paper-forms.
COWS2 &3 : Hmmmm..... (Chew Chew Chew)
Long Silence


Thursday, March 23, 2017


Tuesday, July 26, 2016

looking out of my window
i see green streaks
on my boundary wall

it's moss from the
rains last week

looking at my boundry wall
i had often wondered
about the black streaks
on the white wall

now i know they are not dirt
but mere signs
of what once had been
life.

Saturday, November 28, 2015

ding dong!

Checking to see if my blog is still alive. Coming to tell I still am! :) I miss my blogging friends. Hope to get back soon enough and drop by your home! Love you loads!

Sunday, November 2, 2014

Hi guys!

Hope you have been moving and healthy and good.

And I am here embroiled in my tryst with Harold Pinter and got infected with the Pinter disease whose major symptom spells like "nausea with words" and where language spells like 'cliched' 'platitudinous' ' trite' and 'meaningless'.

Therefore I am still enjoying my own 'Silence' while I've taken this 'Pause'.

Just dropped by to see ya all without comments et al.

Sometimes , just listening is good...

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Orbituary







You win some and then you lose some... With an ambivalent feeling, I would like to announce the sudden tragic demise of my brother in law ( husband of my late sister Zainab) . Rest In Peace Noman .

Sunday, April 28, 2013

Some Miles to go ...

Some trying times... It happens, thought I wouldn't call it shit exactly...maybe a shade lighter...or darker

There are experiences that are so tiring that you wouldn't dare go into recalling them again, the thought itself is ...yawn...

to list roughly, the patch has been pretty rough, with seemingly mundane activities like passport renewal...falling sick... getting new tenants... falling sick...legal work...study work...falling sick...visitors...helping visitors in their legal work...falling sick...social obligations (that some call partying)...falling sick...filthy hospitals...

The month of April seems unending! Still a few more days to go I suppose...before may day...
Indian summer...boiling blistering and the blues...

Will get back to you all, after I getting the work, that I promised myself  getting done, done.

Miss ya all!


Friday, February 22, 2013

Verbose Dispose

There are times I vegetate. I know I have been in that mode more often lately than ever.

I must be getting old.

 I remember the old matriarchs 'doing' that when I was a child. Every home had a matriarch then, who would just sit idly fanning her face with a jute fan , chewing endlessly on tobacco or maybe it was the cuss words that she wanted to spit out on the endlessly moving family around her, but didn't for reasons best known to herself.I am pretty sure that they were abuses, since most of the time when her mouth opened to speak, the sentence would be prefixed and then suffixed with some kind of grotesque obscenity that was so original , that it was more frightening than funny.

At least in those days it seemed like that. Maybe we as children felt so because we knew that everywhere, the old matriarch  wielded a mysterious power over all the elders; and her one complain would fetch us either a reprimand or a spanking, depending upon the volume of our giggles in her presence. So we would stifle our laughter as best as we could and the cuss words seemed to relegate themselves into some deep recess of our subconscious and stayed like concussions in the brain .

I know they did, because now, sometimes when I vegetate, the not so vegetarian words begin to surface which makes me feel that I must be on the brink of turning into 'the matriarch' sooner than expected.If the words threaten to spill out from my mouth, surely I must be turning into one.

As they say, in these times everything matures and decays faster than they did before : the times of disease and science.

Speaking of disease, we in India live in a septic environment, which paradoxically turns gangrenous specially at times when  the 'safai abhyan' ( cleaning operation) in the city is in progress. One morning you wake up to the clanking sounds of the bulldozers and the cranes at work scooping out sewerage from the gutters and dumping the muck on the roads besides the drains. The reason they give for not carting it away immediately is because the muck is 'too heavy while it is still wet'. So they leave it on the road to dry for a week or months depending upon the memory of the cleaners. If we are lucky and there is no rain in the meantime, the muck would cake and solidify and leave half of the road for the passerby to edge forward on the edge. But, if it rains, then you find yourself right in the middle of drains full of sewerage right from your doorsteps to everywhere, and the sickening stench would permeate your nostrils and hit the brain in such a manner that would make you gasp and spew ( not necessarily in that order) off and on.

Such a time is upon my town these days, so in lieu the cuss words threaten to spill out more often than not.

That is how I realized that I must be turning into' the matriarch'!

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Just a thought...

Yea....I have neglected blogging and my favorite crew of people here for quite some while now. It has been quite a quagmire ...you know the kind, when you turn back to "real" academics after a long break and you find a big hole between you and the last page you left at, and then you start picking up lose threads and start darning up the hole in your attempt to build the bridge and get some sort of foothold back into the field . A lot was written, a lot theorized and a lot researched after the liberal humanism at which I had left, and have since been picking up again ; rolling in 'structural' maze on to 'deconstructing' and stepping over 'interpellation' and 'hegemonic' 'discursive practices' I have started to 'culturally materialize' into the ever vast postmodern era , which itself is again a transgressive resistance to specialized categories.

So I am somewhere which is actually nowhere (technically speaking). Now I won't elaborate on that one guys; if you need an elaboration, please go and read Baudrillard and about the fight that ensued between Lyotard and Habermas !

We has a lecture in our department today, that threw us back somewhere in 1611, where the visiting professor ( Prof. Gordon) from England was elaborating on the beauty of the rhythms and the monosyllabic simplicity of the authorized version of King James Bible. He read quite a few passages stressing the intonations with an up and down wavy movement of his delicate hands commenting upon ( for eg.) Ruth's address to her  mother in law ( telling us how he had it read at his wedding ceremony at the church some 49 years ago) etcetra etcetra! He said that King James's set of translators had worked very hard to 'beautify' the text, so as to make it recite able " down to the ploughmen and even the women" [ ! ]  so as to be easily understood and liked by one and all.

As far as I know about translation and translating, there is a process which Lawrence Venuti described as "domesticating and foreignization" which involves plucking up a meta narrative from its own cultural context and making it fit into the cultural context of the foreign language in which it gets translated to. Secondly, If a translation is beautiful it can never be faithful and vice versa.

In lieu of the above statement; I wonder if the King James authorized version has been as 'beautifully' translated as Prof. Gordon made it sound, how faithful had been that translation...

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Cousins



My son says that his stubble grows to this length within five hours after his last shave. His cousin ( sitting next to him) bears witness to it. Do I smell a colonial cousin conspiracy here???

Saturday, October 20, 2012

:S

A long time really... and although there has been a whirlwind of half formed posts in the mind, nothing ever materialized as you can see here. The reason? (shrug) Confusion, lot of confusion and some loose end threads that get so much entangled as I try to pick them, that my 'thought- arms' have begun to ache.

I tell you, never try to go back and settle in a place that you left behind twenty years ago, its not just merely going back into time machine; its more like taking endless rounds in a nightmare machine. You come across faces which somehow seem to represent Time and its excruciating lapse a palpable experience. A surrealistic change materialized, more presentational than representational...

Every day, I come across faces, faces that I have seen and known in the past, faces that had seemingly disappeared from memory, but had actually gone to settle in some limbo of this devil mind ( yes folks, mind is a devil really, but I would have to deal with that subject in another post (psst...remind me later)) so that they could actually raise their head in the future in teasing disturbing fragmented figments.

Now, the problem is not the faces really, as is the struggle to recollect. When faces seem familiar, and you try hard to recognize and can't, you start feeling panicky, you feel that both your sight and memory have started failing . The very sense of familiarity without a name, or the partial recovery of the past ('concretized-as-faces') adds to the torment of nostalgia. Shades of skepticism about the self creep in and you start hoping that they do not become shadows...

Sometimes the failure to recollect threaten to extend so infinitely, that you feel that you have entered a ghost valley of eternal silence. They all pass in front of our eyes, so quickly, one after another, that before you can clearly 'visualize' one, the next has already replaced and stepped in. Its a sea of flow, not just a few.

People have really not moved out of this place it seems. " Kooein ke meindak"( frogs of a well) we would call such a motley crowd in my language ; the ones that have never been or have desire to be out there to see that there is another vast world beyond their ghetto.

Crap!

See where the frustration leads to!? You start blaming the people (read faces) for your own memory failure! What  does one do in such a situation, save seeking consolations like blaming the corporeal decay factor of the 'familiar - unfamiliar'?


Friday, October 5, 2012

Time Flies :)







Friday, September 14, 2012

Friday Flash 55ve Fiction ( Beast Fable # 7) Even Tigers don't kill when not hungry!

Fox and Lion enter a restaurant.

Fox: (Signaling to a waiter) I 'd like to have ten buffalo wings served on my plate.

Waiter: Ok. And what would your companion have sir?

Fox: O he is not hungry. If he were, do you think you would be here... or I would be here ordering for food?


(Inspired by Mark's   Scarring the Light Blue Sky

Friday, September 7, 2012

Friday Flash 55 : Misery of Miserly(Beast fable # 6)

Pig:(lamenting to Cow): How's it that people always praise you as gentle;when you only give them milk and cream? I give much more like bacon, ham, bristles and they pickle my feet.Yet I'm unpopular.They even use my name as an abuse.

Cow:(Musing) Hmmm...perhaps it's because I give while I'm still alive...

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Rest in Peace Z

With utmost sorrow I mourn the loss of my sister Z two months ago, to cancer. I have been searching for words to express memories, but words fail me somehow yet still. I can only say Rest in Peace Z.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

I like this song!

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Teethies at last !!

Teethies at last !

hehehe

Little Lamb :)

Friday, September 23, 2011

Friday Flash 55ve Fiction: (Semi) Beast Fable # 6

Wife : Hey! Why are you and riding that horse by sitting facing its tail!

Husband: Well you see, I am facing the right direction where I want to go. But this horse seems to be very adamant in going the wrong way!


Conclusion: Some people have an answer to every question even if they are wrong.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Yet , I have No Regrets

Over the last few decades, there opened a floodgate to a whole new brand of part time writers whose 'real' profession is either psychiatry, or yoga teaching gurudom (the most trumpeted amongst them being Deepak Chopra , Shiv Khera , Bikram Chaudhry and the likes) and their most favorite subject being tolerance and convergence issues .

" Be Yourself" is supposed to be the Mantra for quite a few years now , and it is supposed to be the easiest thing in the world. You will be termed  the simplest or the least complicated person around if you 'be yourself' and things around you will get a lot more easier for you and others. 'period'

Easier spoken than done. If only being oneself was that simple! You bet its not! neither for you , nor for others, and believe me, it really really does complicate matters in the weirdest possible sense.

The paradox here is, that you will be the person, who is first 'liked' and then 'disliked' for the very same reason.

Not that it matters much to me, as to what people think about me, because I know that people are almost always being judgmental and interpretative about others : we tend to jump to conclusions to fast and too soon. The only problem that I face being myself is the loyalty issue.

People who are supposed to be your friends expect your undying loyalty towards them. So much so, that they even want you to compromise with your own values and principles when it comes to being loyal. Most of you will understand what I mean , since I guess everyone must have heard  ' Hey! you are my friend, you are supposed to be on my side!' line. Even if you know that the so called friend is not being entirely truthful, or fair or whatever else.

And if you are not 'taking the side' then its as easy as 'off with her head' and you are labeled a betrayer for a life time.

My point here is not complaining about people. Its about how hard being oneself can get at times ; and I'm not the one to compromise on my values and principles. Not that I am rigid in my beliefs; its just that I try to be as truthful and fair as I possibly can , not allowing 'friends' to take undue advantage of others , thinking that they can safely get away with doing whatever they please in front of me, just because I am their friend , and that friendship , ' by definition' entails blind loyalty.

I have encountered  the most  (seemingly) 'straight forward ' people's  dalliance when it comes to personal practice. I will, in brief, recount an example of one such personal experience that I had quite a few years ago with my next door neighbor :

The neighbor couple was quite friendly and helpful , and their small acts of kindness were always returned in kind . The neighbor was a retired army official who was entitled to get groceries at subsidized rates  from the Army canteen , and would often help us, by getting us a few items at subsidized rates for us. In return, we allowed him to use our van to get his load of goods . If our overhead tank ran out of water, he would offer us some and when they ran out of milk for tea, when a guest arrived at their place, they could always get some from our place.

The families often got together over drinks and meals , and we celebrated our festivals together.

The elderly couple has a son, who was divorced and there were not so pleasant tales circulating about him , which is very often the case in our Indian culture, since the D word is such a taboo here : once you are divorced, you are automatically labeled as incompatible social out caste. So we  always gave a benefit of doubt to the family regarding the gory tales and brushed them off as gossip...

Until the son got married again. Until the Oedipal situation came to light when the bride beating began. Until I realized that the Mother-in - law had started using me as a means to torture the daughter in law :  once she 'invited' us to lunch to taste her 'wonderful 'dosas, and later came to our place chuckling, to tell me that actually it had been her daughter in law's wish to eat them, and she wanted to finish up the batter so that she could have none. The daughter in law, it seems , had expressed her wish to eat the dish, and since she "could not refuse her that in front of her son" she did make the batter for the pan cakes , but also saw to it that the daughter in law could have none, saying , " what could I do, the neighbors dropped in and finished them all".

And the stupid woman was having the last laugh sitting right on my sofa , and relating how she had used me!

I swore to myself, not to allow myself to be used in a similar manner, although I continued with my neighborly duties , albeit from a safe distance.

Then came a day, when there was a lot of screaming heard from the house and a human figure came flying out  and landed on the road, all battered and bruised, with her clothes torn. It was the daughter in law. She got up and hurried away before anyone could reach her, and disappeared in the dark. She must have gone to the police, because later next day, we saw police men approach their house. The mother in law came out wailing, while all the men hid inside, and started recounting out loudly, how she had been mentally tortured by her ' mentally deranged' daughter in law who had 'manged to run away from the house' , 'tearing at her own clothes and hair, and boxing her own eyes' , 'swearing to teach a lesson' to the 'poor' old woman.

If it were only that, I wouldn't be recounting this tale to you here. The highlight is, that at this juncture she sent for me, and when I came out, she wanted me to 'bear witness' and 'tell the officers' how much torture she had been through.

The officer bade me to speak, so I recounted exactly what I had seen happening, much to the chagrin of the  female.

The reason I spoke was that I did not want the poor girl to be locked into a mental hospital for nothing : the daughter in law had,  in the recent past, already shown me a letter from the women's grievance cell, which was addressed to her mother in law, which had luckily landed in her hands and which she had (sensibly) read on the sly. The letter said : " as per your complaint against the torture inflicted upon you by your mentally deranged daughter in law, the cell has decided to consider your request for making arrangement for housing the said patient  in ...

The old woman started hurling abuses at me, and cursed me for having 'betrayed a friend' etc. etc.

So to come back to the point, this happens with me often, although in much milder sense than what happened in the story above. People advise me to be more tactful, the definition of which I know is something like being able to get your point across without alienating people. Tactfulness comes easy, in a place where people maintain a distance and give each other enough personal place. In India you get 'stuck' because either you have 'friends'  nose diving too much into your life, or none at all. There is no' in between' stage. And in this country with abundant human population, and where almost everyone these days seems to be involved in corrupt practices one way or another ( yes, even the most seemingly respectable ones) ,they say its difficult to survive peacefully in our social milieu , otherwise. And since the majority of people are like that you tend to almost always get dragged in. Its not just "if you can't beat them, join them" ; its " you just can't beat them , be damned!"

My mother often tells me that it is necessary to 'meet' people ( read that as " me coming out of my room to greet her friends , sit with them and gossip, even though later she and I might disapprove of what they were saying, in short, be a hypocrite") because we would need someone to "carry our dead bodies to our graves at our funerals" ( her words).

Meh!

I would rather be without 'friends'  and its My Choice.