Through My Lenses: Odisha Reflections

In my last post I had written about the trip to Puri and peppered it with visuals from Puri highway and Bhubaneswar.

Towards Dusk

Before getting away to a different destination one last remark about evenings at Puri. Puri is a great romantic get away for people who believe in a dream date who takes them to the sea beach in the evening, clear moon lit night and the roar of sometimes Turquoise and sometimes Lapis-Lazuli Bay of Bengal with your loved ones close by. Hmm! Keeping aside the romantic quotients, the Puri sea beach is well endowed with restaurants, inns, bread and breakfast and hotels. In the evening the beach transforms into a makeshift shopping ghetto selling trinkets, accessories, conch and mother-of-pearls, beach wear, kurtas and comfortable sleep-ins. If you are lucky then there might be a Beach festival running in the vicinity of the sea, a real visual bonanza. However, of the less luckier ones like me and for an affordable luxury one might like to hire one of the plastic chairs that cost 10 rupees per head for an hour and enjoy the evening in languorous silence sipping a local chai at 3.00 rupees, interrupted by nothing but the roar of the vast black stillness spreading upto the horizon.

Luxury Hotels by Puri Beach

Hawkers and Stalls

This post will again have a lot of visuals, but not everything is going to be about the ‘beautiful’ and magnificent Odisha.

While the main highways and the roads are being cleaned, decorated and made a visual treat, there are loopholes in the maintenance of housing areas and suburbs. Take for example the most populated suburb Sailashree Vihar in Bhubaneswar. The suburb has  houses and plots sold by the Housing Board Societies. There are attempts to build schools, parks, recreation centres and flower nurseries by the BMC (Bhubaneswar Municipal Corporation) at several places throughout the locality. However, there is one basic feature lacking in the region — civic amenities. The by-lanes are mostly half-built, dotted with potholes and ditches, and  left in complete darkness without streetlights.  I understand the necessity of saving electricity, but do not comprehend the idea that roads and lanes should go without streetlamps. I still do not understand which logic is more essential — security of human lives or saving electricity? especially, when there are highways in Bhubaneswar which are lit up day and night with beautiful wrought-iron lamps. These lanes are infested with goons and petty thieves, who take advantage of the darkness and loot ladies wearing gold chains or earrings and snatch purses from people returning from office at late hours. Moreover, these by-lanes are so ill-maintained that most of the times the potholes are filled with mud and dirty water during rainy season,  or else the water pipes which are supposed to water the  saplings planted in the newly built parks, actually end up watering the roads and lanes,  difficult to even swim through to the main highway .

Conserving electricity is a great idea but then the need to conserve water ?  What about hydro-power? Well…what we conserve and how much we conserve also depends on our priorities and our insight into things and requirements great and small. These days in the name of conservation we waste more than saving.

State of a Bylane in Bhubaneswar

A closer snapshot of this gorgeous puddle in the locality would perhaps benefit us a little more. So here are some more pictures of the same spectacle. Instead of parks, the lanes are being generously watered.

Water, water, everywhere...

A Closer Snapshot

Let us move to some other  trivial aspects of my traveler’s diary;  to some aspects of my personal-professional life . I started my career as a Lecturer in a small technical college 180 kms away from Bhubaneswar. I had just completed my Post-graduation and was doing my M.Phil when this job came my way. I considered myself lucky because in those days technical colleges were not very common in Odisha and  that place gave me my first exposure to teaching and also to Internet. I learnt browsing useful articles and educational sites. However, now the scenario has changed — entire landscape of Odisha is flagged with technical colleges. A new college comes up each morning. There are at least 100 engineering colleges in Odisha (while writing this post). You will be surprised to know that more than 9000 seats are vacant at this moment (till Oct, 2009) in these colleges. And the quality of the so called engineering students and facilities in colleges — you should visit once to know better. Now the question arises – how much they deliver….??? People tend to question your credentials if you happen to teach or be associated with any of these colleges at any point of time. I have been questioned by interviewers time and again about the validity of teaching or working in  these places while documenting it in my CV . I make it a point to retain that aspect as my first job experience out of a kind of defiance.

College Buses

On one hand these colleges promise a degree in technical excellence and give a B.Tech or a B.E. degree to the students who opt for it. A degree is fine, but technical excellence is doubtful. Students go out and get some job in corporates and software sector but how far they rise and make a mark for themselves in the long run is an unsolved mystery. Coming to teaching, well there are many good students in Odisha who have either not opted to go out of the state or have neither the means nor the financial support to pursue higher education.  Yes, there is a business and a clear-cut business motive, when the management can employ ten faculties for a cheaper pay packet why would they prefer one ‘academically better’ faculty who would cost them a fortune? What difference does this faculty make? The system is such that whomever and whatsoever the management hires, delivers ultimately in equal measure. I have reasoned about teaching in a ‘mediocre’ (that’s what the puritans call them) technical institution with one reply — “who is to be blamed for the mediocrity of any place? Faculty? Students? Management? Society?” Everyone — collectively.  IITs or Central Universities, if they are to be considered as ‘hallmarks’ of ‘better’ education, are sustained by a collective will of all the above members of a society. Moreover, it is the “R” factor or the “Research” factor which puts them in a class apart. There are many such “technocrats” from the mushrooming technical institutions who may not even know that Linux is an Operating System or that MATLAB can be used to derive the diagrammatic projection of a set of data entered.  But, that is not their fault (not 100%). The same students if they have the passion or the zeal to learn go ahead in life and opt for higher studies and return better equipped. As someone who taught, I confess that I did not myself do my homework as well as I was supposed to have done. The question regarding  why other places in India are not at par in education, is almost like the last instance given in this post regarding the beautification of highways while leaving the by-lanes and the gullies to rot. We are in love with shortcuts and easier paths. How much we put at stake and what we want to achieve is something that the students, the faculties, parents and the government have to decide for themselves. For the time being however there is a mushrooming of engineering colleges which either promise to deliver or deliver in newspapers.

However, it is not the mushrooming of technical institutions or the ‘quality’ of education that affects me. I feel disheartened because of the lesser sympathy or let’s say apathy of the students and the society towards liberal arts, literature, humanities studies and cultural studies. I am not sure how are we going to sustain the superstructure of a megalithic educational setup, without sustaining interest in liberal arts and humanities? In Odisha the trend that seems disturbing is the general tendency to interpret humanities, especially language, literature and aesthetics as no more than Personality Development and Communication Skills or else Call Centre support system. I wish we realize and respect the immense potential concealed in roads lesser trodden, that is our own culture, and the government and centres for higher education consider these subjects with equal seriousness.

I have been taking you through the alleys of higher education and civic amenities. But, now we will venture a little deeper into the smaller towns, villages and the State Highway of Odisha. As we move from Bhubaneswar towards Berhampur (business capital of Southern Odisha, closer to Andhra Pradesh border), there is a diversion from the National Highway that takes you on a State Road towards a smaller district called Nayagarh. If you are a party lover and shopping freak, such destinations may not be your cuppa tea.

NH-5

This too is a part of me

If you are an ardent nature lover, or if you are person on the lookout for adventure, then these are the right destinations or let’s say milestones for a traveler. However, be prepared to spend nights in Dawk-Bungalows or in smaller motels with mosquitoes and lizards. The roads are jerky, and you can find nothing but paddy fields extending as far as your eyes can take you or else small farming villages flanked by large banyan trees, dilapidated shops or else a freshly whitewashed primary school building.

A School Complex

The Primary Schools or Higher Secondary Schools are particularly interesting. Modestly built with limestone or red bricks, these schools are immaculately clean.  The outer courtyard of the schools are neither cemented nor concrete. However, the earth and mud finish of the courtyards are swept and mopped with such perfection that one gets a romantic longing to return back to school days and study in these schools. Especially as townsfolk who have the ‘privilege’ of studying in Public or Convent schools, and who think that there is no education ‘alternative’ or matching our kind of education, these schools invite rethinking. In fact, some of the top educationists, civil servants, IITians, literary figures and doctors, actually come from these ‘humble’ educational set-ups and even ‘humbler’ homes.

Home

Across The Green Fields

There are a lot of things which are undergoing transformation for either good or worse. This time when I traveled to Odisha, I realized that there are still many things that haven’t changed like the evenings, the hamlets lit with one small lantern or the people who spend time gossiping about ‘bigger’ things like politics and terrorism with the local newspapers at their favourite tea and samosa stall.

There are also many things that have changed like the infiltration of liquor and goonda raj on a grander scale or the setting up of international schools charging a whopping 2-3 lakhs per anum from children of well-to-do families, and so on. This article does not aim to elucidate on either.  You might investigate and find that out yourself. The purpose of this write-up was to take you across into a state that remains a mystery for many. From huge multi-star  luxury hotels to the humblest dwellings, you can find all if you have the zeal or the curiosity to look deeper than the obvious.

Odisha is not to be understood as a state whose places are relative to the center or Bhubaneswar. There are many beautiful landscapes which do not come close to the perimeter of the capital.  One has to look beyond the “golden triangle” of Puri, Konark and Bhubaneswar, in order to explore the  essence of the land. I have not been able to capture those landscapes and their life and style for my readers.  Maybe in some other post I might be able to write about those places….

Till then…bon voyage!

A Slice of Odisha: Through my Lenses

A very happy festive season to all of you….

My readers must have been wondering about my whereabouts,  Iris has been going article-less for more than a month. Let me assure you that Iris is alive and in search of quality stories (a reader searched for the blog under the search term “Iris, Anne de Plume the girl who died” ).  I was on a travel spree for the past one month — went to Odisha, visited Puri, Nayagarh, Dhenkanal and of course Cuttack and Bhubaneswar. During the entire trip I had only one thought — to capture  some moments of my trip through my camera lenses, just for Iris and its readers.

In this article, I present a story in pictures of Odisha — an enigma to most, a “poor” state to some and a place “rich” in natural resources to many. Though I am not a photographer by profession, through these pictures I am “sketching” the Odisha, which I witnessed in my last visit.  It is not a travel guide — of what places to visit and see, rather in this article I share with you the Odisha as I observe it through my lenses. Let us begin with the new face of Odisha.

Fortune towers

A glimpse of a  corporate complex called “Fortune Towers” in Bhubaneswar. It houses some of the leading corporate houses of the state. Odisha has recently started to witness a corporate boom and corporates too are monitoring the state closely.

The neon-lit roads

A view of the roads of Bhubaneswar at night. The white building appearing as a hazy pagoda is the new Eastern Railways office in Bhubaneswar.

People often ask  about the cuisine of Odisha. Usually people ask that “there is something called “South-Indian” food, “Bengali” cuisine or “Punjabi” cuisine, we have never heard of “Odia” cuisine. What is special in Odisha in terms of food?”  It is difficult to define Odia cuisine per say because Odisha lives in its “everydays”  and according to the rhythms of Jagannath culture and the many festivities associated with this culture. There is a saying in Odia: “barah masa terah jata (12 months and thirteen festivities)”. The special dishes like “Kanika” (sweet-flavoured rices), “Pithas” (a range of homemade snacks sometimes salted and sometimes sweet), and certain curries like “Ghantaa” are just a few of the names that come to my mind. These dishes are  associated with celebrations and festivals listed in the Odia calendar.

Food served at homes

However, what appeals to my sensibility is the food that is served as a part of our daily lives in Odia homes. The platter above has steaming hot rice with a dollop of ghee, bitter-gourd cooked in a spices and fried such that it doesn’t remain bitter , cauliflower blanched and fried, Green Saag cooked with onion and garlic, a bowl of kadhi with coriander leaves, pickle and “Santula” ,which can be of two types: Bhaja santula in which vegetables are fried with onion and turmeric and is dry, or Sijha Santula where vegetables are boiled first and then added to a chhonk of mustard seeds and garlic and a drop or two of oil. My personal favourite is the Sijha Santula.

Santula

Try a hot Sijha Santula cooked by grandmoms or moms or aunts when you have a bout of cough and cold. Believe me, it is heaven incarnated as food . This Santula is somewhat closer in taste to the Clear Soup.

Let us now move to the roads and first drive towards Puri. However, before we enter the wilderness, there is something interesting these days about the walls and roads of Bhubaneswar. The BMC (Bhubaneswar Muncipal Corporation) has developed an innovative way to enhance tourism and travel.  Walls of Bhubaneswar have been painted with murals, applique works, pattachitras, Odisha handloom patterns and so on. Here is a glimpse of the roads.

Walls painted along the roads in traditional mode

Painted with mythological stories

A traditional Odia saree pattern designed on an over-bridge

The above picture is  of an over-bridge near Jayadev Vihar square in Bhubaneswar. The  bridge and also the drive way underneath have been decorated with patterns and paintings.

A huge billboard written in Odia

The photograph  shows a huge hoarding carrying an ad of a multinational food corporation. It is being given finishing touches by people who  may not even know what the product might taste or look  like.

When you move out of Bhubaneswar towards Puri/Konark, the wide roads start snaking into  serene greenery, glades and large fields dotted with hamlets, chai shanties, handicraft shops, smaller  temples  from times immemorial whose names might also not be known.

Drive towards Puri: last rays of a setting sun

When you drive towards Puri, very close to the Dhaulagiri, you might see a serene “canal” like river, calmly flowing since yore. The river — Daya, famous or rather infamous in history for the Kalinga wars fought in 2nd century B.C.,  has been a witness to one of the bloodiest wars of history. However, when you look at it from the narrow iron bridge, it appears to laugh back at you with a mock innocence. A calm nothingness envelops when you  keep gazing at the river from the iron bars of the bridge.

A silhouette of Dhaulagiri on the hill at a distance

Daya river by the sunset

Bhubaneswar is called the “temple city” with huge structures like the Lingaraj temple or the Raja-Rani temple. However, if you look at some of these old, sometimes abandoned temples as you drive through towards Puri or for that matter any other place, you might get a feeling that time still stands motionless in some of the places of a 21st century India — said to be young and dangerously dynamic.  There are Buddhist monuments like the Dhaulagiri and Khandagiri, Udayagiri and Ratnagiri which are unparalleled in their beauty. Yet, there is something mystical and mysterious about these smaller, unknown temples that you might encounter anywhere in Odisha.

'Pan' shot of a temple on Puri highway

A typical village temple complex

On your way towards Puri,  hamlets, green fields and coconut trees abound. If you are driving then make sure to stop by and look at the applique works (Chandua) of Pipli or taste the special malpua-dalma at Chandanpur. I have always felt that the most extraordinary things of life are concealed in what appears ordinary. Odisha has famous monuments, structures and tourist destinations. Yet, the beauty of that state is concealed in what appears ordinary when you drive past or walk past these places.

At the end of a long day

A Chai Shanty

Cluster of hamlets shot from a distance

Pipli chanduas on display

There are other attractions/distractions as well. Cool clean fresh coconut water from the freshly plucked green-coconut of the coconut trees, is a must if you are an avid nature lover. There are many such coconut-water (paida-pani) selling joints on the way. If you have time and 8-10 rupees, you will be richly rewarded not only with sweet fresh water but also with the fresh malai as a refreshing and healthy snack.

Freshly plucked coconut selling joint

On our way

Puri is an experience that might be unique for each person in their own ways. For some it offers religion, for some spiritualism, for some it is a honeymoon destination, for some it is a research point on a culture which still baffles in its uniqueness and for some Puri is a family holiday destination that has something to offer to each member of the family. Puri is an enigma not because of its religious or sacred significations but because of its geographical and historical positioning in the map of India. It’s a lands end city, strongly holding on to one major human attribute — faith. I leave the concept of Puri to be explicated by the historians, pilgrims, the artists and tourists. For me, Puri is an experience which is ever-new, an experience which is a part of an inheritance as well as an intense perception of my own collective identity.

The golden sands

The grand road of Puri

Shreemandira through my lenses

(To be continued in Part-2 of “Through My Lenses”)

The Tale of Dawk-Bungalows

In India Government servants must be  well acquainted with terms like Dawk bungalow, Inspection bungalows and Circuit Houses. Varying on the basis of  the department they were maintained by — especially P.W.D and Forest departments, these bungalows were basically built prior to independence to cater to the traveling needs of the government  officers. However, they are also often rented to travelers if vacant and not commissioned. The name of dawk bungalows and Inspection bungalows (I.B.) arouse a sense of old-world charm when the bade babus or  officers came in their rickety jeeps and were received by the cook and mali of these bungalows. For the traveler,  dawk bungalows were not only places of comfort and rest but also full of  “adventurous possibilities”.

Thinking of  Dawk bungalows and I.B.s remind me of a Kipling/ Corbett world. These bungalows were built in the European fashion — mostly situated outside the small districts/ towns, single-storied with only one or two suites having high ceiling   roofs, large round-bellied fans making a scary noise with every turn, creaking beds , large black dinning table  with a huge glass jug-full of water, a small-closet library with books of Hardley Chase or books having themes like “Botanical research” and “Colonial legacy”, these places could well be amazing settings for Alfred Hitchcock movies.  Situated in lonely landscapes, far away from the “madding crowd”, they have a distinct charm of their own. Ah yes! The bathrooms — most of the bathrooms in such bungalows have either malfunctioning taps or huge broken bath-tubs or a single leaking tin-bucket with which you have to adjust. Usually, a bearer carried water balancing two buckets on his shoulder tied to a long bamboo pole, and once they fill up the tubs or the buckets, the guests are ready to take a bath.  However, the bungalows are accessible only if you travel by road.  Being situated in the “interiors”, they remain hidden from busy public communication systems especially railways. Circuit Houses as far as I remember are more towards the center of the town or the district, but Forest I.Bs and dawk-bungalows are lonely and situated  far away from the town.

These bungalows had huge spaces, acres of land dotted with mango trees, jack-fruit trees, papaya trees, wild flower bushes, rose shrubs and some berry bushes. The compound walls were distant from the main bungalow and one had to walk or drive almost half a mile in order to reach the main gates.  The main entrance had  large wooden gates hidden from public view by creepers.   Sometimes, the gates had sign boards like : “NO THOROUGHFARE” or “TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED”, written in bold letters. Basically, privacy and seclusion were the content of these bungalows. There were some out-houses little away from the main building but within the compound, famously called “servant-quarters” where the watchman-cum-cook-cum- mali usually lived with his family.The bungalow opened into a wide portico and a veranda facing the main entrance and there would be relaxing-armchairs kept on the veranda, waiting for a lazy languorous evening.

Having traveled extensively with my grandparents, I remember the thrill of staying in some of the most unusual I.B.s and dawk-bungalows. Especially, during the vacations grandpa drove us  to these bungalows away from the humdrum of the city life.  The dawk bungalows and I.B.s  had their own kitchen and the watchman/cook/mali used to be also a government servant, who lived all his life in a particular bungalow serving the guests. The moment a  guest  settled in a suite, the watchman would take his cycle and drive to the town to get  provisions and rations for the kitchen. Usually, in Odisha and Bengal the dawk bungalows have a supply of eggs, fresh water fish, rice and potato. These are the places where you cannot expect to get biryani or chicken tikka or palak paneer. The culinary skills of the cook/watchman is limited to humble homemade rice, pulses and curry.  In some coastal places of Odisha like the bungalows closer to Behrampore or Balasore or Bhitarkanika,  serve prawn and crabs for its guests.

Personally, I loved the dawk-bungalows in the hilly regions of Odisha like the Koraput dawk-bungalow.  The beauty of these bungalows were their exclusivity and seclusion.  Nights were especially happening in these bungalows. The croaking of frogs, tuk-tuk of the woodpecker in the large trees closer to the bungalow, crickets creaking — suddenly the nights get alive with unknown and undecipherable noises. I remember as a child I had exclaimed at the huge troop of glowworms that invaded the trees in the Rairakhol I.B. and created an illusion of thousands of small light bulbs lighting up all the trees near the bungalow.

The Gothic architecture of these buildings also add to their scary nature.  I remember a story of the dawk-bungalow near Hirakud dam which my grandma had narrated to me on one of our trips. Apparently, the bungalow was haunted by the ghost of the daughter of one of the watchmen who lived prior to independence. The girl had died in the bungalow after a futile love affair with a saheb. Since that time the bungalow had been haunted and lay unused. Grandma said any officer who ever tried to stay there on their inspection trips after nightfall, would be served good food and water by the same mali and his daughter. Once grandpa’s senior colleague had to stop there and stay in the bungalow because it was late at night and the headlight of his jeep had started giving trouble. He was apparently welcomed by the mali and his daughter, who cleaned his suite, brought water for his bathroom and fed him sumptuously with rice and potato curry. Next morning the officer realized from the unkempt garden, veranda, empty outhouse and the overgrown bushes that the bungalow was not in use and there is no human presence in it.  He drove to the nearby town and inquired from people and got the complete version of the story.  Later he caught a fever and had to be hospitalized for many days because of his shocking experience. Whether these were merely grandma’s stories or whether there was truth in it, I can’t say because the locale and the “mood” of these bungalows were such that one cannot deny any strange eventful “event” happening with you.

There were many such stories Grandma used to narrate with either dead officers very attached to a particular bungalow revisiting them after death or dead malis tending unsuspecting guests.  These bungalows had their share of ugliness — as oral tales speak — the sahebs and their Indian counterparts often indulged in physically exploiting the wives or daughters of the poor watchmen who guarded the place or ladies of the village in these lonely bungalows.  Many deaths also occurred due to loot and murder of the travelers who took shelter for a night or so.

Remember movies like Bees Saal Baad or Madhumati or Khamoshi shot in such locales? Today when I see movies shot in lavish places and shot abroad, I have a passing thought what if instead of spending huge money on lavish abroad shoots, with advanced technology they could use  these locations for movies. Some of my memorable destinations in I.Bs and dawk bungalows have been places like Chhatrapur, Bologarh, Koraput, Purunakot, Rairakhol in Odisha.  Purunakot I.B. especially was an interesting experience. The place is a remote corner of Odisha, almost 100 kms from Angul the nearest district to Purunakot. It had a strange haunted aura, surrounded by hills and devoid of  pukka roads. In Bihar, I especially remember the Ghatsila and Motihari bungalows. We had to take shelter in Ghatsila bungalow as it was getting dark and unsafe. We spent the night with the rains lashing at our faces through the broken glass shutter, without electricity. Next morning it appeared that the bungalow was abandoned and not in use. Motihari bungalow was no less than a palace, very well maintained by the sugar factory close to it. It had apparently been renovated and beautifully decorated with the antique pieces that must have been a part of its legacy. In Andhra Pradesh, I especially remember the Ankapalli dak bungalow , surrounded by huge mango trees and close to the National Highway.

In Bihar, Odisha and Bengal, dawk-bungalows and I.Bs are still in use, though some of them have been converted into tourist resorts and villas. Somehow, I still love the Kiplingsque atmosphere of those bungalows. I am not sure how they are being maintained or used in the present century, but some of my fond memories are associated with these bungalows, the food and the hot sweet tea with thick-milk from the bungalow’s own cow-pen served in old thermo-flasks. Ahh! romantic retreat at its best.

Today when I see the roadside retreats, amusement parks and motels, I still think of those dawk bungalows which were different kind of entertainment even in their austerity and scarcity of provisions and luxury. But “the times they are changing” croons  Bob Dylan….

Further Reading: “Financial Times” <http://www.financialexpress.com/news/the-bungalow-bill-in-global-languages/112272/0>

When…

When there remain no words to be uttered…

No thoughts to be shared.

When there are pools of illusion between your worlds and mine.

When the droplets of the first monsoon showers,

Neither fill my heart with love nor succor

When futility seems to be the only companion,

And relationships fade into the complexities of “me”, “mine” and “my own”.

When a vision languishes into dream and dream into harsh reality,

When life loses its colour in blinding individuality.

When it hurts, yet the heart forgets to sigh.

When tears freeze into vain laughter,

And eyes forget to cry.

When I am not myself and you, not you.

When everything else is a silent desertion…

Suddenly then!

Tinkles a tiny bell somewhere in the distance,

And the rays of the evening deeya forces in through my shut doors.

All questions then silence themselves into mute answers.

The stormy heart seeks neither dreams nor prayers,

But longs for a languorous peace,

Melting the soul into a silent trance.

Away from the realms of Being and Becoming…

Here I dwell in a few fleeting moments,

In the embalmed emptiness of my soul…

(Written in Summer 2004. From My Unpublished Diary of Poems)

Letters on a Blackboard

The article that follows has been contributed by Sri Lankan scholar-writer-art historian, Dr. Sinharaja Tammita Delgoda. Dr. Delgoda has traveled and written extensively on Sri Lanka and India. His well-known works include: A Traveller’s History of India and Selwood Nuwara Eliya And The Story Of An English Cottage.

In 2003 he was commissioned by the late Foreign Minister Mr. Lakshman Kadirgamar to produce a work on eminent Sri Lankan contemporary artist Stanley Kirinde, which would also represent the heritage, landscape and culture of Sri Lanka to the outside world. This work, The World of Stanley Kirinde (2005) was followed by a study of 18^th century Sinhalese art, entitled Ridi Vihare. The Flowering of Kandyan Art (2007). His most recent publication is Eloquence in Stone. The Lithic Saga of Sri Lanka (2008).

The article is published here with the permission of the author.

Disclaimer: The views/opinions expressed in the article are those of the author. Iris does not hold responsibility of the views expressed herein.

By Dr. SinhaRaja Tammita-Delgoda

The entrance to Kilinochchi Maha Vidyalayam (Kilinochchi High School) is dominated by a large map. Although it is actually a map of Sri Lanka, most of it is blank. One section however, is clear and sharply defined in bright red. Stretching all the way down from the top, it occupies the entire north of the island, snaking down on either side. On the west coast it touches the outskirts of the capital Colombo; on the east, it reaches right down to the deep south. All in all, the red areas encompass more than one third of the entire landmass and almost two thirds of the coastline.

The rest of the country however, does not exist. An empty space in washed out blue, it is barely distinct from the surrounding ocean. The map is entitled “Our Country. Tamil Eelam.” Every day, every student entering and leaving the school would have to file past this map. This was all they knew of Sri Lanka. Recently however, the map has been slighted amended. At the very heart of the blank space, daubed in big letters, are the words “SL ARMY.”

Upstairs the class rooms are bright and airy, painted in pretty pastel colours. In one particular room the letters on the blackboard tell us that on the 26th September 2008, 6 boys and 12 girls, 18 in all, sat down for their final class. The wall beside was marked “Grade 12 A”-everyone in this class would have been between 17-18 years old. As they sat down for their studies, their eyes would have been drawn to the pictures above the board. However there are no maps, diagrams, or even cricketers to be seen. Only a line of posters.

The first is a picture of a portly figure in a business suit, Anton Balasingham, the foreign spokesman of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE). The face and voice of Tamil Eelam abroad, internationally Balasingham was perhaps the most well known of the Tamil hierarchy. Next to the timetable, is a portrait of a man in uniform. It is a rare picture of the leader of the LTTE’s Political Wing, the ever smiling Tamilchelvam. Everything is in Tamil, the only link with the outside world is a yellow Bank of Ceylon calendar. The calendar’s photographs highlight some of Sri Lanka’s most famous archaeological sites, Anuradhapura, Polonnaruwa and Yapahuva. Printed in all three national languages, first English, then Tamil and finally Sinhala, it is the only reminder that Kilinochchi is a part of Sri Lanka.

For more than a decade Kilinochchi was the capital of Tamil Eelam, a separate Tamil state in the heart of Sri Lanka. Its creators and self styled guardians were the Tamil Tigers, the world’s most ruthless and most formidable terrorists. Here the Tigers held absolute sway, controlling every aspect of the administration and ruling the lives of the people. In early 2009 however, Kilinochchi was finally recaptured by the Sri Lanka army. For both the LTTE and the people of Tamil Eelam, Kilinochchi had been the lynchpin of a way of life; the fall of the capital sounded its deathknell.

Although the town was only finally taken towards the end of January 2009, the letters on the blackboard tell us for that the students of Grade 12 A, their lives had stopped nearly four months earlier.

* * * * * * *

KN. Murugananda Maha Vidyalayam lies several miles outside Kilinochchi, amidst rolling paddyfields and thorny lines of palmyrah trees. As the afternoon sun starts to set, its burning glow begins to soften, bathing the building in golden light. The same map is prominently displayed here and it is clearly visible from the roadside. Positioned above it is a large blue sign. It advertises The Bank of Tamil Eelam School Savings Unit. Everybody entering through this way has to pass under this sign.

Built in the shape of the letter “L” around a large green park, the main section is rather beautiful. On one side the corridors are framed by a line of blooming temple trees. As you walk down the narrow spaces, white flowers blow across your face. Set into the wall is a plaque erected during the ceasefire period, dated 9th July 2003.

“Funded by the Government of Sri Lanka

Asian Development Bank

Germany (GTZ)

Government of Netherlands

Opec Fund”

The first room on the left is a clutter of jumbled chairs and tables. This was where the teachers would gather, to gossip, complain and pass the time of day. The blackboard here is mostly blank, with scrubbed out scrawlings here and there. Large English letters in the middle of the board proclaim its function, “STAFROOM”. Tucked away in a corner of the blackboard is another, smaller inscription in Tamil, “Defeat Leads to Victory.”

On the walls above are posters of men in striped uniforms. One commemorates Captain Lara Rangan, “who died in 1984 at the hands of the Sinhala army.” Another remembers the “Admired Servants of Tamil Eelam, Who Died for the Cause in 13 Years of War.” Most striking of all is a darkened, shadowy image honouring the Black Tigers. An élite unit dedicated to suicide bombing and martyrdom the Black Tigers were the LTTE’s most potent weapon and they are honoured as its most revered heroes. Known as “Maaveerar” or “Great Heroes, ” they are amongst the very few to have access to the Leader of Tamil Eelam, Velupillai Prabhakaran. They are so highly regarded that the Leader himself hosts a final meal with each and every Black Tiger, before they are sent out on their final mission. July 5th is Black Tiger Day and this poster celebrates Black Tiger Day 2007,

“See the Light from your Face,

Listen to the Sound of Your Deeds.

Remember the Black Tigers”

The posters range right across the wall, remembering other renowned figures-Colonel Devan, the local area commander and Sivakumaran, who became the first cadre to take cyanide when he was captured during a bank robbery.

Upstairs is an examination hall, where students sat for O Level Exams conducted by the government of Sri Lanka. Index numbers on the board – 82928916-82929351 announce the candidates sitting for subjects in the Tamil Medium, Papers I and II in Music and Papers I, II and III in the Arts. This classroom would have been occupied by Grade 10 students, children between the ages of 15-16. All these exams would have been conducted by Tamil teachers, working and teaching in Tamil; all of them government servants, drawing government salaries. It is one of the most extraordinary ironies of this long drawn out conflict.

“During the Ceasefire time the LTTE visited our school. They were at every cultural occasion, sports event and every prize giving.” The speaker was a young cadre who had just defected. His eyes were haunted. Taut and nervous, he leaned forward as he spoke. Holding himself together, he looked intensely into our eyes, lost and now confused. Like all his fellows he had grown up under the LTTE, he believed in them and in their success.

The warm afternoon breeze sweeps through the building. As it gathers strength, nearby trees sway gently to and fro. Leaves dance in the wind, their shadows creeping up the walls. Pieces of paper fly slowly across the room. At our feet, the wind rustles the pages of a book. The book has a shiny blue cover. It is the school souvenir for 2003, the KN. Murugananda Maha Vidyalayam Prize Giving Issue, printed at the St. Joseph’s Catholic Press in Jaffna. Almost entirely in Tamil, it opens with a message in English from a Tamil government officer, K.M. Pathmanathan, the Deputy Director of Education-Planning, from the Zonal Education Office

“This school has a long tradition and it has set an example in

developing a child friendly environment. This has been achieved by the dedicated service of the Principals and teachers who have served this school.”

On page 28 are three colour photographs, congratulating the Best All Round Students of 2003. On the opposite page is a series of verses. At the very bottom of the page is a saying.

“More dangerous than the Enemy

Is the Traitor”

National Leader of Tamil Eelam

Disclaimer: The views/opinions expressed in the article are those of the author. Iris does not hold responsibility of the views expressed herein.

Lambi (Lambretta) to Nano: a Journey of a Generation

I was lost in typing some important stuff, when my phone rang…

I picked up the call slightly irritated at the prospect of being disturbed. It was my father, so naturally the tone of irritation mellowed to soft greetings. He sounded excited and breathlessly said: “listen….The new Nano has come to market. Ratan Tata inaugurated it…. I just saw the test drive on the TV….We want to buy three Nanos…can you check the price and tell me…I will book it from here right now or else will send you the money by core banking and you can buy all three and keep one for yourself as a birthday gift….”

For a few minutes I was speechless….”What! How many Nanos did you say?”

He was slightly embarrassed and now with a softer tone said, “Three” ….

I laughed out aloud and said, “papa..three Nanos are a little too much…we can’t afford it….Moreover, what will I do with a Nano when I don’t even know how to ride a bi-cycle…. If you want I’ll check one Nano for you and mom and will tell you if there are cheaper options based on taxes from one state to another….” He was slightly disappointed that I didn’t need a Nano but was Ok in a minute or two. Later, I described him about the EMI and bank credit systems and the one-time money deposit scheme for the Nano….He didn’t seem very impressed…but well….

Later, the idea of “three” cars made me chuckle for an entire evening. I was wondering about the apparent “financial prosperity” of the “Great Indian Middle Class”. This incident took me down the memory lane when we had only an old Lambi (Lambretta) scooter which was forced to accommodate 4 people. I was always sandwiched between the rider and the back seat passenger, dangling in the half space between the two seats. Whereas, my brother would be in a half standing position, between the driver (my father) and the front handle. He would keep on singing or blabbering, while our team scooted away to markets, restaurants or sometimes on long drives. As we started to grow up,  father had to crane his head over our shoulders in order to see the road and drive, until the process had to be finally stopped and the lambi was sold off. We were all very sad to part with our beloved orange lambi that had borne our weights and us for such a long time. But, the lambi was not only a scooter, it was a symbol of an entire generation, of a generation which had a connection with early 20th century technology. If you search Wiki entry on a Lambretta scooter, you will find not only the story of a particular make of an automobile, but also can find an entire cultural process associated with it. That scooter was a symbol of a generation which had Beatles, Elvis Priestley, the Hippie culture, etc. as its iconic figure-heads. I do not know why, a lambi brings to my mind a generation which had “rock” and “disco” as its themes and “freedom” and “liberty” as its motto.

The scooter was not very comfortable for four people… but still it was the mark of prosperity and “family-ness” of our parents’ generation, where only the richest people in town had a Fiat car or an Ambassador. Every Sunday, my father would take us to the local haat (Sunday market) on the lambi and would shop vegetables, fruit and pulses for an entire week. Sometimes, he would get the week’s poultry supply or a fresh catch of bhakura fish from the local pond, neatly dressed up hanging from one of the handles of the lambi. We also got one Icecream (which me and my brother had to share) and pencils/scented erasers from the market as incentives to go Sunday shopping with our father. There were neither malls, nor gaming zones nor huge Icecream parlours to entertain us. Sunday market was the only place where we could relax after a week’s schooling and homework.

Times changed and so did automobiles… from Lambi to “Humara Bajaj” with the slogan, “buland bharat ki buland tasveer” (rough transl.: a strong India’s strong image). The advertisement of a Bajaj scooter was itself so alluring that, if you did not own a Bajaj you were left out of the race for prosperity where your friends kept on teasing you with; “you know we have a red bajaj and my father takes us to Chinese Fast-Food center in that bajaj…”. The scooter had something of a national pride and well …. who wants to be left out?

Came the time, when the degree of middle class prosperity suddenly peaked with the 5th Pay commission bringing huge goodies for government, semi-government and PSU employees. We bought a new Maruti home. We had elaborate rituals, “coconut-breaking”, “temple-going” ceremonies to welcome the Maruti. In fact, on our first ride (we had to hire a driver as my father did not know how to drive a car) in the Maruti car, we were given new clothes and sweets and also carried sweets and clothes for relatives whom we went to meet in that car proudly. We were given “special late night rides” during our board exams,  to relax after a taxing day of nearly 18 hours study just before the exams. During these rides, we just had one thing to look forward to…the music wafting in the darkness from the car’s stereo system playing a cool number from the latest hit of the time….Hmmm….heaven! One day while I was in Junior college, my parents were discussing my dowry and debating regarding which car to give to the groom (they had thought I might be a college drop-out soon and join some local dancing troupe ). I was listening to the discussion intently, suddenly raised my hand (as if in a classroom) and said: “no… please no car….Give me a Hoodibaba…you know it’s nice to be on a bike on the road, with the strong breeze blowing on your face” …. The event was no less than a culture shock for my parents.

Times have changed. With the launch of Nano or such smaller cheaper cars, India seems to be moving towards a certain extreme individualistic life where we too will have a “one person one car” syndrome on the Indian roads. No, I am not being fascist or regressive. In fact, my love has always been formula-1 racing cars. I like the thought of being able to afford or dream of a car easily, but also concerned about the strong sense of the “personal” and “one-owner” system that these vehicles introduce as a part of changing human culture. Anyway, changes are inevitable.

Who knows, what the next-gen would like to see and ride?

Kora Kagaz: a Reflection on Relationships

Rishte badi mushkilon se bante dekhe, tootne keliye bus ek hi lamha…

(my transl. relationships are built with difficulty over time but can also snap within a moment)

(Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and AR Rahman from “Gurus of Peace”)

Thanks to Moserbaer CDs at least we get to watch original movies in good print at low cost. These CDs have actually contributed substantially to the cinema world and for viewers as well because: (a) They are cheap and easily available; (b) They are not pirated and (c) Some very old black&white and Eastman color movies are available now in the market. I got to watch Kora Kagaz (1974) from one of these CDs yesterday. I had always loved the songs of Kora Kagaz, but did not get the opportunity to watch this movie before. I liked the movie very much and thought of writing an article related to that. However, the theme of this article is not completely cinema and cinematic techniques of Kora Kagaz; the theme is — relationships.

I am slightly nervous while writing this post — relationships are difficult to be written about and feel worried that my own prejudices and emotions should not come in the path of the narration. Anyway…. I begin with the movie.

Kora Kagaz is the story of a young girl (Jaya Bhaduri) from a well-to-do upper middle class family and a college literature professor (Vijay Anand) who comes from a “poor” family. By choosing to remain in the teaching profession in a city college, the professor chooses to maintain a humble lifestyle. He gets married to the girl with a reluctant acceptance of the girl’s mother (Achala Sachdev), who had dreamt of getting her daughter married to an engineer/doctor or a businessman. The actual drama begins after the wedding, when there is a constant interference from the side of the bride’s mother, unacceptable to the “honest” and “prestige-conscious” son-in-law.

Every new day there is a new problem in the couple’s life. One day there is a fridge sent by the mother, the second there is a telephone, third the mother goes and tells some relatives that her son-in-law will go to London and submit his PhD thesis, and so on. The man in turn feels that each of these tokens of “love” are nothing but “nails” hammered on the coffin of his honesty and principles. He believes that these ideas are especially contrived by the mother-in-law to show him down. The newly-wed girl is sandwiched between her mother’s love/influence and husband’s principles. Finally, they separate on a very bitter note to be reunited years later.

Like most Bollywood movies, this movie ends with an optimistic note when the protagonists meet in the railway station years later and decide to live happily ever after. Well, that is the movie but life is not a movie. The protagonists are reunited by destiny and are given a second chance by life. But, that may not happen in “real” life. Actual story may not end/start with a reunion. Reflecting on the movie, many things came into mind. Yet, what appealed to me in the movie was the way the complex threads of relationships have been handled. The Director (Anil Ganguly) has to be credited for understanding and presenting these complex problems related to marriage. Parental interference (both bride and groom’s side), societal demands and finances and importantly communication gap all these form the crux of not only this story but many other real-life stories. I shall discuss each of these four aspects with examples in this article. Personally speaking, frustrations and failures of married/love lives of my friends and relatives based on these aspects came haunting after watching the movie.

Coming to parental interference, most of the times parental interference creates a havoc in the life of a newly married couple. As per most Indian customs, after the wedding the bride is supposed to live with the groom and his family. She changes her maiden title and has to relinquish many of her bonds with the maternal home. Expectations are high on both sides and a new addition to the family creates some amount of anxiety. Often interference at this stage affects long term relationships. Especially, if there is an interference from the bride’s side, things get blown out of proportion. The girl is ‘expected’ to adjust and she might find it difficult because of a very different kind of upbringing. Sometimes the expectations might be just very high. In such situations if there is parental interference, things become very difficult. Sometimes the parents/relatives/siblings of the groom and their constant interference lead to friction in a new relationships. Expectations that the bride “has” to be “meek”, “humble”, “respectful” and “dutiful” are always there, but sometimes these reach the limit of atrocity. Meekness, humility and dutifulness does not mean that one forgets that the person is new into your family, needs time to adjust and deserves to be understood as a “human being”. Sometimes the desire for seeing the bahu as an embodiment of perfection is so high that people become unforgiving.

For an example, a friend of mine kept to sick-bed for months immediately after marriage because she was expected to assist her elder sister-in-law in the kitchen to cook for their joint family. She was finding hard to cope up and there was constant tension with her husband which got severely aggravated when the bride’s sister called up and spoke to the groom regarding the issue. The boy didn’t take it lightly and matters could not be settled until both side’s parents met and had to solve with mutual discussions. But sometimes such simple issues become a huge problem ending in breakups.

One cannot always blame the groom or his family. Sometimes the fathers, mothers, aunties, siblings of brides play no less spoil-sport. In their over-zealous protection for the daughter and in their possessiveness, they land up creating problems for the new couple who need some space to understand each other. One of my acquaintances took her sister on her honeymoon! You can guess the response she might have got from her spouse…. In another instance, the mother of the girl kept calling her frequently, telling her she should pester her husband to switch over from his current employment and should choose a job which is closer to the girl’s home. Result: there were constant bickering on both sides until they separated.

As far as societal expectations and finances are concerned, these are problematic both in marriage and love affairs and are deeply interconnected. These days one can see a trend in which if you are in love/marriage the first thing people tend to ask you is the “CTC” of your husband/boyfriend. I am not sure if males face the same questions for their spouses/girlfriends from their circle and friends. The success or failure of an affair depends on the amount/lifestyle your spouse can “buy” for you from malls and shopping complexes. In Odisha, I have seen a major trend — if the groom is a “software engineer” then only the bride’s family accept it with pride. If not hmmm…hard-luck . One of these days we sat joking in the mess regarding “computer engineers” taking away all the “nice” girls and all the “nice” money . Some of us conceded in tongue-in-cheek fashion that we do not want a “literature” researcher as our spouse for he can feed us only with “love” and not with “pizza” . Well, the scenario doesn’t seem to be new. In Kora Kagaz too there is a firm dig at this trend when the girl’s mother broods over her daughter being married only to a “literature master” who earns 600 rupees per month. While, another newly married girl’s parents boast of their son-in-law as an NRI engineer who earns huge amount in US dollars nearly 10-12000 rupees (in 1970s).

Not just finances, in the University, I remember many of my friends (males) were rejected by the girl’s family on the grounds of their not being a student of engineering/medical. A particular choice of subject is considered to be the hallmark of lasting friendships and relationships…strange! Also, vice versa many of my female friends (doing a “simple” MA/M.Sc/ M.Phil) were taken for a “joy-ride” by engineers/doctors only to be dumped by them for a choice of girls either of the same profession or from professions like MBA, CA, etc., whom they could call their “equals”. Many think that literature, economics, sociology, psychology, culture studies are meant for “freaks” and “time-pass” who have nothing to do but to perenially waste time. However, society forgets that some of these “freaks” like Tagore, Sarojini Naidu or Amartya Sen contributed to the making of the “modern” India, and some other “freaks” like Kant, Hegel, Foucault, Derrida, Spivak and Levi-Strauss have made the “world” that we see at present. In fact, an entire lecture can be given on how Foucault’s theories brought jail reform in the long run or how Derrida contributed to what today can be called the “margin-center”. But, let us keep that discussion for another post.

We have burnt many a midnight oil in the hostel trying to soothe broken hearts where one person was preferred over another either due to his/her social status or education. Especially, some of my close friends fell prey to the so-called glitz and glamor of the world and returned brokenhearted for they were “shown” that they are dunce, good-for-nothing types who have no position in the “soft world”. One of my acquaintances who was a topper in her career suffered huge pain when she was told by the family who had come to “see” her that “will she be able to adjust with their son who earns huge amount after his BCA? Can she show her ‘feet’ to the groom’s family so that they can judge whether she is “lakshmi”?” Irony! Congreve says “way of the world”. For example, once when we were in college I had come across this story of a girl committing suicide for not being accepted by the boy’s family even while the person impregnated her on the grounds that she did not match the status of the boy who was a senior “ranger” in the forest department. Phew!

While I was in Post Graduation one of my relatives asked what were my subjects and I replied that I was doing a PG in literature, and he replied “hmm! there are millions of PGs in literature what difference does it make to the world! If you were a scientist or engineer you could have managed…hmm” . He was right in a sense! Apart from education and finances, societal pressures manifest in other dimensions too. Pressure for “male child”, pressure to buy a house/car like peers or colleagues, pressure to maintain beauty/charm and also pressure to be more intelligent than colleagues/friends’ spouses. These are true for either gender. Societal pressures are huge and excruciating. I observe sometimes people uploading snaps of their intimate moments on social networking sites for the sake of “showing” the world that how amazing and warm their relationship is. How much that is in “good” or “bad” faith can be a subject of research for psychologists dealing with inter-personal relationships….

Communication gaps in relationships are also strongly responsible for the complexities. Everything in this world revolves around the necessity to communicate. Gestures, non-verbal communication and face-to-face discussions play a huge role in determining the “health” and “longevity” of any relationship. In real life, sometimes communication is the only thing lacking in otherwise perfect relationships. Especially, in elderly couples after their children have grown up and left them for their own destination lack of communication creates health hazards.

Finally, one can say that each relationship is unique and has its own beauty and complexity. Starting from friendship to love to marriages relationships are complex, because human beings are highly complex. Freedom to choose and not to choose can be left as a mutual issue between the people sharing a certain bond, unless the concerned parties “seek” advice. If you observe the animal world and especially monkey parents, they too leave the little-one to play, rise and fall as per its pleasure, so that it learns the rules of the game. But when it topples and hurts itself then the parents jump and give support. So also, human relationships are an intricate “game” and one should get the chance and the opportunity to learn the rules of the game and play it effectively in their own style.

Thoda hai thode ki zaroorat hai…zindagi phir bhi yahan khoobsoorat hai

Disclaimer: This article is not intended to hurt any gender/professional sentiments. The author merely records experiences of people.

Amarnath Talkies: Cinema for the Small Town

The Indian Premier League (IPL) and the tussle between Producers and Mulitplexes in Bollywood has taken its toll on cinema and cinema-goers. IPL has become another name for “reality show”. It is the baap of all reality game shows – these CRICKET matches. IPL has yet again proved that it has a “power” even over the other most important source of entertainment for Indians — TV Serials, Poll Tamasha and CINEMA. This is because Cricket in India is not just a game, it’s a religion. In general, both cinema and cricket make the staple of our entertainment dose, and in fact move beyond entertainment to being the life breath of people who take these as “national pride”. But, the IPL fever has been such that cinema has suffered a serious setback. For a “cinema worshiper” like myself not going to theatre because of the lack of new releases and “good” movies has become some kind of a punishment. Added to this, recession has made the going extremely tough. While, I see many of my seniors and batchmates struggling for a “decent” pay check even after toiling like hell on their thesis or MTPs in IIT, the only thing I feel like having is a heady dose of a real good masala blockbuster in a theatre.

I am becoming nostalgic and slightly angry! I will come to the nostalgia part in a short-while, but first let me recount the reasons for my anger. Let’s pan the camera towards some of the bigger movies that have released in the last few months: Chandni Chowk to China (CC2C), Dilli6, Billu Barber aka Salon Specialist (latter my addition), Aa Dekhen Zara, Firaq, Raaz — the Mystery Continues, Siddharth…. This list is recollected from memory, apologies for slippages if any. Unfortunately, I do not appreciate any of the above movies. The less said about CC2C is better…Dilli6 had the possibilities of an amazing movie with one of my favorite star cast (Waheedaji) and some of the best tracks that I have heard in the recent times (I like Masakali and Genda Phool immensely). But one has to remember that a movie should “speak for itself” rather than “speak about itself”. I went to watch Firaq in the theatres. It is a technically very well-made movie, but if you ask me about its content I would say that it is flawed. Movies which are made with a “social message” are supposedly “balanced” in their “judgement” of a particular incident. Firaq comes under that genre of cinema and so naturally one expects that it shows a certain kind of “balanced” portrayal of the sensitivities associated with both religions. But….

I am having a hunch that in the name of making “serious cinema” or “matured cinema”, our “cinema-making” capabilities are suffering badly. Added to that, media, cinema-makers and actors have made “gossip” a staple for PRing a particular movie. If you observe the current trend of Bollywood, before every release there is a new gossip to pepper the marketing of a movie but no one bothers to look into the subtleties of acting or making a “real good movie“. I suspect it is the PR-ship of a movie which is responsible for the saleability of the movie rather than the movie itself. Take the war between Khans, the over-hyped and sometimes maligned life of Salman, Katrina-Ranbir/Preity-Ness and innumerable such stories. It seems that the “cinema-lovers” attention has now diverted from actual cinema into the rumours and real life drama in the lives of celebrities. We are virtually given the life of Big Boss viewers. Not that there were no gossips or rumors in the yester-year celebrities. Starting from Nargis-Rajkapoor to Hemamalini-Dharmender or Amitabh-Rekha to the current Sanju-Manyata rumour mills have always been ablaze. These yesteryear stars were not only celebrities who gave reasons for rumours because of their public image, they were also great actors and immensely dedicated to their career.

The trend has changed now. Today the personal lives of stars are so flavored and served in such gorgeously decked-up china platters that they appear more delicious than their movies themselves. For instance, while reading articles one on Sharukh’s pay cut and the other on Rishi Kapoor’s recent interview to Rajeev Masand in a famous news channel, I felt a twinge of sadness and sympathy . The life of an actor like Shahrukh is being measured by the “cut in his pay check” and that he had to accept it in a wedding “for not dancing”! Similarly, it was actually not in a good taste to say that Katrina is “better” than Deepika just about the time when a new movie of Ranbir-Katrina Ajab Prem ki Gajab Kahani is about to hit the theatres. Is this gossip thing not going a little too far and actually destroying the potential of good actors who are now paying more attention to their lives off-screen rather than on-screen?

That brings us to the “small town cinema” aspect and to Amarnath Talkies.

I am sure that hardly any of my readers might have even heard of “Amarnath Talkies“. It is a small single-screen theatre of a capacity not more than a 150-200 people in the sleepy town of Dhenkanal somewhere in the heart of Odisha. The theatre has a balcony that is called sankha and a small arena called samudra. The balcony caters to the “well-to-do” people of the town and also to the newly married couples who get a rare once or twice in a life time privilege of getting away from their extended families in the name of “taking ‘her’ to the cinema” . The cost of these balcony seats extend not beyond 20-30 rupees per head. The movies that premiered in Mumbai are released in the these small-town theatres after nearly a 7-8 months gap. In those days, we used to read reviews in Cine Blitz or Film Fare, read gossips and wait eagerly for a certain movie to release. The release of a certain block-buster movie carried a great fanfare. A peddle rickshaw decked up with huge posters of the movie and a man sitting inside with a bhonpoo (loud speakers) in hand, would be shrieking and announcing the arrival of a new movie in town: “Heyi heyi re! Asantu dekhiba Amir-Juhinka Dhamaka Ishq apanka nijara Amarnath theatre re (Let’s all go and watch the new movie Ishq starring Amir Khan and Juhi Chawla in your nearest Amarnath theatre) !” I always enjoyed listening to these announcements as they really served to heighten the anticipation for the movie .

Well, we hardly got to watch movies in Amarnath Talkies and the reasons were simple — the theatre was always littered with pan thook and smelt of bidi . The hoot and whistling in the hall almost drowned the voice of stars performing on screen. Generally parents were afraid of taking their “grown-up” daughters to such theatres because the comments were somewhat “below dignity”. Yet, there were unique occasions when parents could not deny taking the kids to watch movies. When movies like Saajan, Ishq, Dil toh Pagal Hai, Kuchh Kuchh Hota Hai released, their fame was such that they could be avoided at no cost. These movies came to the theatre almost a year after they were released in Mumbai and by then they had already become mega blockbusters.

My own experience with these small town theatres are highly nostalgic. For instance, an entire theatre in Angul (my parents worked there) was booked by a relative as a birthday gift for me. We all went to watch Raja Hindustani with four-five friends and their families and the relatives’ family in that theatre where we were served tea and juice. In general, on most of the occasions it used to be night-shows in Amarnath Talkies with aunts, uncles, parents and friends and that too with “dinner only at home” as the condition (not like cinema goers of Mumbai). Watching a movie was no less than a carnival. In another instance, we had run away from school to watch Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge in one of these theatres. We bunked school after the tiffin-hours and went to the Talcher talkies with friends to watch this movie which had become a cult of our times. But, the fear of being caught and punished kept looming large and made the experience of the movie even more enjoyable. My grandfather took me to a special screening in Amarnath Talkies of the English movie ET and its Odiya adaptation, meant specially for journalists, writers and critics. Those were the times when we could connect to the movie itself and the thought of the movie remained fresh on our minds like the taste of chocolates….

These small town theatres served another purpose. They were the major source of promoting regional cinema in their showtimes. Every Durga Puja or Kali Puja or Id , blockbuster movies released which sustained the regional film industries. But, with the arrival of VCD/DVDs and pirated movies, regional movies suffered huge losses. As a result, today you do not find movies like Amada Bata (The Untrodden Path), Danda Balunga (The Street Loafer) Adina Megha (The Unseasonal Cloud), Samuka (The Shell), etc any more in Odiya film industry. Regional films have actually suffered a huge setback in Odisha (in Maharastra to some extent too) where the audiences are more biased towards Bollywood. Not only the viewers are responsible for the debacle of regional movies, but also the producers/directors are equally responsible with their small investment, verbatim copy of Bollywood movies and very bad cinematography (Telugu and Tamil movies are exceptions to some extent). It is not correct to say that good writers, scripts, directors are lacking in these places. There are good writers, scripts and directors, but the investment is definitely poor and so is the mindset. Moreover, since most of the small-town theatres have closed down so where would the prints be sold? Many of these theatres have been converted into Kalyan Mandaps or worse still have become places where goons, loafers and underworld lives. But the thought of Maharaja theatre, Shreya-Stuti or Amarnath theatre in Odisha arouses the same kind of longing for a “good” movie as does the thought of Regal, Metro or Shreyas in Mumbai.

Somehow, as an ardent movie-fan I wish for a change we made some real cool masala hits, forgetting the “technicalities” and the “processes” of movie making. Recently, I was talking on phone with an aunt in Odisha and she was going gaga over Salman’s God Tussi Great Ho which she got to see in one of these smaller theatres. I was wondering what was so intelligent or cool about the movie? I went back and watched that movie and I am not ashamed to admit that I enjoyed it much more than Singh is King (the latter was a huge hit)….

Hmm! how I pray that this war between producers and multiplexes end soon. I have already started missing the movies….

Who is a Human?

For the last few weeks, I was absorbed reading Arvind Adiga’s novel The White Tiger which had borrowed from Eddie’s Kitchen . My interest in the novel was based on the  Booker Award that it received last year. Frankly, I was not aware of Adiga’s writings before I came across the piece of news that he had beat Amitav Ghosh’s Sea of Poppies in the race for Booker. The blurb claims that this novel is a “page turner” and can be read at one go. But I took longer to complete it than my usual pace since I found the “realities” described in that text very difficult to digest. Not that the “realities” described are “unrealistic”, but rather are too “harshly-realistic”, sometimes at the cost of language, style and aesthetic sensibilities. Probably, the author had deliberately chosen a style that is anti-aesthetic or “anti-literary-ness”. However, Adiga is not the first author to have presented “India” in this fashion, there are many known and unknown authors who have headed the brigade. In fact, Adiga seems to be directly influenced by none other than Sir Vidya, i.e., V.S. Naipaul and his India writings, especially An Area of Darkness. Adiga keeps invoking the term “darkness” in his novel reminding us of Sir Vidya’s experiences of India as a mind-boggling, problematic “area of darkness” in the first of his India trilogy.

Keeping aside the literary jargon that we usually get entangled with, Adiga’s novel brought some of my own real life experiences fresh into memory. I have been asking the question, “who is a human?” from the past few experiences that I have had. About a month ago, while I was waiting for a friend to arrive at the Ghatkopar station had a strange experience. Mumbai starts sweltering by mid-March and noons are especially hot. It was around 1 pm and the station was apparently less crowded than usual. I stood at the magazine vendor, peeping into some of the new titles that are on stand this year. Each local train that arrived at the platform dumped hordes of unknown, unnamed faces, each face seeming no different than the other and then another departing local would come and scoop away half the population like mushrooms scooped with a soup spoon from the soup bowl. The heat made people angrier and more restless than possibly they would be. Each one seemed to be in a hurry to reach some mysterious destination. With perfect nonchalance, I kept my eyes fixed on the new numbers displayed at the magazine stall and muttered under my breath a distorted version of T.S.Eliot’s Wasteland: “March is the cruelest month that mixes sweat with anger” (original: “April is the cruelest month mixing memory with desire”) .

Suddenly, I spotted a tattered old man, more clarification, a tattered blind old-man, trying to alight from the footbridge connecting the platforms. He was desperately seeking help from commuters requesting them to guide him down the stairs of the steep footbridge. No one listened to the  old man and none stopped to help him either. I was in the other end of the platform and far away from the old man, could only helplessly observe him faltering in his steps, trying to balance himself as he got down the stairs of the bridge. Somehow he did manage to get to the platform, but his ordeal did not end there. The man intended to board a local train bound for Ambernath and evidently he was unable to board it himself . He badly needed help and went on requesting people to help, but to no use. Finally, in utter desperation the man put one hand on the shoulder of a passerby and requested him to just make him board the train. The passerby who probably was also one of those innumerable faces who had to hurry for some destination, rudely and angrily jerked away the blind man’s hand. He was so rude  that the poor old man just lost his balance, lost his stick, tumbled and fell down badly on the platform. He was bruised, hurt and the dark glasses he had was broken into pieces. Except a young student who came running from the farthest end of the platform to assist the man to get up, no one else bothered to even stop for a second. The  gentleman had tears in his eyes — tears of frustration and tears of blindness. I had come running from the another end of the platform to see if he was ok, and could make out that he was just very shaken and hurt. He just said to me in Marathi that he wanted to go to Ambernath to meet his daughter and son-in-law, but people thought he was a beggar and was just creating nuisance. Hmmm! What difference does it make to have or not to have eyes? We are also blind….

My friend reached on time and we came out of the station. Outside Ghatkopar station there was a queue for the BEST buses. It did not contain 5, 10 or 15 people; there were thousands waiting for one bus. The queue snaked down to the streets and almost covered a kilometer distance. Frustrating! In the heat, in the full summer noon, thousands standing in queue to board a bus. My friend sighed and said; “thank god! we have auto rickshaws here! It would be a torture to wait in queue for these buses!” We had to pay just 40 rupees to reach IIT by an auto, quiet simple and affordable. But for some of those who were standing in that queue for a bus, that 40 rupees was half-a-day’s salary.

These days I wonder what happens to the “super-power” nation that India is prophesied to be. With elections just round the corner and each political party bragging of its greatness, the question of “who is a human?” becomes even more pertinent. “Murk” is the only word that defines the situation here. Maybe we will have a “super-power” consumer nation down the years, all that we have now is easy money, minority politics and post-election alliances. The rest are indifferent people like us who get an easy ride through auto and taxis, a comfortable room, malls to shop, air conditioned labs, air conditioned airplanes to gain a safe passage out of the country and lead rest of the life in some “cool” place, sighing over the deteriorating human situation of India. People like me, Adiga, Arundhati Roy, Danny Boyle, etc. have one aspect that is similar — we all live in safe ghettos while talking or writing about the “inhuman”. I bet I will never stand in a long queue to get to board a bus and so will Danny Boyle who can never substitute real “shit” for his “peanut butter” to shoot another Slumdog and so will Adiga who may not choose to visit the “darkness” that won him a Booker. The question of who is a human applies to us as well.

If being “human” has certain values, “virtues” or “expectations” attached to it, then the term has got really problematic dimensions. But, if being human means just being a higher-ape, a biological being, I have no issues. In fact the term “human” has of late come to substitute “man”, as the latter was considered to be gender insensitive by some thoughtful critics. Terms like “physically challenged”, “mentally challenged”, etc. also came into vogue as terms which carry “sensitivity” towards the “lesser capable” and to give a more “humanitarian” angle to certain physical disorders. But, that day in Ghatkopar when I saw the gentleman struggling and being insulted in the platform in front of thousands, my idea of these “sensitive” terms completely changed. They are mere terms in critical jargon having hollow meaning, because there are millions out there who will not sympathize or empathize with a man as “physically challenged”, but might just identify a person as a “blind man” or a “leper” or a “deaf” person. The physical attribute goes as an identification mark, because all these jargon of gender-sensitive, physical attribute-sensitive, are limited to bookish, snobbish, aristocrats like us who hardly venture out into the platform to help a “blind man” cope with his “blindness”.

Who is a human? Still the questions lurks in my mind…

Sunset to Sunset – a Day in IIT

This guest post by aamjunta is a sequel to an earlier post in which Anne de Plume had written on a day’s work in the life of a researcher in IIT Bombay. At that time there was a huge demand that we should highlight on the “male” researchers too as the post concentrated only on the life of the character “Radha” a female researcher at IIT Bombay (Sunrise to Sunrise: a Day’s Work @IIT). So, we present the sequel to the story written by aamjunta:
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Swana, Swana, Swana, Swana,
Haan… bolo Shan
will we go for breakfast?
Haaan.. chalo, aata hun

Oh… it is breakfast time now.. my god… it is 9.25am. Have to be there in hostel mess in 5 minutes — 9.30 am the breakfast time closes. Sid manages to reach the mess area within 5 minutes, half brushed and half washed face . This is not only the story of Sid; it is the story of Ram, Karim, Hari, Sanju, Anne, RP … many such Sids in every hostel…. each morning.

The routine tune of the life of an IITian just plays on, with a few unusual hiccups and occasional highs. Life here is routine. Even then, the life of a Research Scholar (RS) differs significantly from an MTech or a BTech. The flexibility of working hours and working style allow and encourage many Sids to wake up late or to go to the department/lab at their convenience. Many researchers wake up just before breakfast time, some wake up just before the end of lunch time (some time event after lunch time). For many lunch is the 1st meal of the day, popularly known as brunch (breakfast + lunch), 2nd for some and 3rd for the rest (heavy food in late night canteen, quick breakfast and lunch).

Though the working style and hours of male RSs are different from their female counter parts to a certain degree, it is not completely incomparable. While some researchers like Swana or Shan wake up very early in the morning and get ready for breakfast after morning exercise, it can be next to impossible for Anne or RP or Gyan. For Anne, waking up before 9.30 am happens once in a blue moon, where as for RP or Gyan,waking up before 12.30 pm happens once in 2/3 blue moons . These people can’t be blamed because they sleep late in the night (they claim that they sleep almost at dawn). Sometimes these night-outs happen because they are studying/working the entire night, but often they also happen due to chatting/telephone or gossips or movie shows or something of the type. Even if they sleep on time, waking up before 9.30 am…. just next to impossible. Body clock does not allow . For instance, it does not matter, whether you put 10 alarm bells or 20 wake up calls, if Anne does not want to wake up, no one can break her sleep. The person calling will lose patience and the alarm bells will go to snooze mode after some time… but nothing would destroy Anne’s kumbhakarna sleep. Fortunately or unfortunately, the alarm bell of the mobile non-stop rings and wakes people who are sleeping some 2 floors up/down or 10 rooms away.

I still remember the day, when Disho came back from the dept after a heated argument; he was supposed to meet a person in the main building for his registration on 2nd Jan, but went to meet him on 3rd Jan. He was adamant that it was 2nd Jan and not 3rd Jan, could not accept and believe; he slept on the late night of 1st Jan and woke up only on 3rd Jan morning (after some 27 hours of non-stop sleep) thinking that he woke up only on 2nd Jan. He still could not believe that 2nd Jan was gone, called me and his aunt to verify the date 2nd or 3rd. Poor Disho, paid Rs 200/- as fine for the delay of registration

Some times I wonder – is there any body clock that actually controls? Is there any time for sleeping, working, playing or eating? The TT tables are fully occupied even at 3.00 am in our hostel; TV room is almost full at 2.30 am; big queue at the canteen at 1.00 am; serious discussion among groups at 4.00 am; whispering on phone with sweet hearts/would-bes from their room/playground/culvert; chatting with their GF/BF sitting close to him/her with a very low tone in the playground/culvert or near H12 cone at 4.30 am; going (coming) to (from) the dept at 3.00 am…. everything happens here, in the chilly winter, in the hot summer and the horrible rainy season. Quite interestingly, one day when I woke up at about 3.00/3.30 am, in my half-sleep I went to the bathroom and found one bathroom occupied and the shower was running… someone was taking a bath at this time !! For some time I stood fixed and got confused, is it morning bath or night bath?

Coming to the issue of a bath, in an average one RS baths 5 times a week (very high average for H12 inmates, even less in other hostels); some bathe twice/once in a day.. some bathe once in 14 days, some once in a week. In winter, the frequency goes down, some bathe once in 30 days or more; really saving water and electricity… .But, of course we spend more on chemicals… Deos and perfumes.

Sometimes I wonder… Should we close all the bars/L-shops? Should we regulate liquor in the hostel? IIT Rule says…yes, liquor is not allowed but in practice.. how far is it being followed? I am not against personal consumption, that is a matter of personal prerogative. But I strongly feel that if you have to have liquor that should be without disturbing others. But that does not happen every time. For most when they are drunk, it is the time when they are high and do some thing wrong or right. Once drunk, they get into interesting acts: catching fish in the room, dancing on the some high pitch-full volume item song, or sleeping in the toilets (some drunk gentleman even sleep while they are standing), or crying in the mess with a plate full of food in hand or laughing in the midnight, attempting to fly in the aeroplane or give non-stop philosophical lectures. For some it is fun, for some it is inconvenient, for some it is enjoyment and for the rest it is a part of life. It happens! Bachelor life – partying with friends is common and natural .

On a different note, marriage for researchers is a big task. Searching for a good groom or a bride is always an important assignment from the day one they enter the institute. Some try to optimize their search with the options available here in the campus, some try to get some one from their native place, some still wonder what to do? Searching the right partner is tough though, many try their luck and burn their fingers in the process; a mix of sweet and sour experiences. Those who are married and have not got any married accommodation… tough life . But they also search for enjoyment in the official entry time of IITB: 7.00 am to 10.00 pm (Some have even paid fines for violating the official time).

With all these fun it will be incomplete if I do not highlight the research work or TA work or Ghodagiri of a Research Scholar. For some the burden is evenly placed throughout the year and for some only during the deadlines; APS, Presyn, Conferences, Journals. For some 24 hours per day is just not enough; spending even more than 28 hours in the lab at a stretch are very common during deadlines. The impact of success and failure of self and the other is also quite visible on the daily life of an RS; some get frustrated, some enjoy and some become composed. Research and Re-search continues, papers after papers published, country after country visited, party after party celebrated and life goes on non-stop, with speed-breakers in between; ego clashes with guide and colleagues, fighting and love with sweet hearts, extending stays in hostel until one gets a job, buckling under the pressure of parents to complete PhD and getting married, or just sleeping aimlessly through days and nights or enjoying 6 movies in a day… It happens and starts with a new evening (morning… hardly any RS sees the morning) till the next evening; from Sunset to Sunset – a day in IIT.

Note: All the names and incidents mentioned here are fictional. Aamjunta/Anne De Plume does not hold any responsibility for any resemblance of the incidents or the characters with any person dead or living.