Saket Suryesh's Blog, page 9

Avishi: VIshpala of Rig Veda- Book Review

Avishi: The Vishpala of Rig Veda
Pages: 388
My Rating: 5/5
Genre: Mythological Fiction
Amazon Link: Click HERE

I am a poor reader. Not that I read slow, or read less. I think, oftentimes, that I read too much for my own good. I read many books, in parallel, at the same time, picking one and dropping another and then going back to the earlier one. 
In every book, there are some moment of lapses of laziness, some bored silliness, intermittent, while we wait for that moment which could pull us back from our dreary journey from one page to another. I usually find hard sailing through such moments, and then move from one book to another- an very unfaithful reader. There are very few books which hold me by my ears, not letting me move a bit, one way or other. I would fold the book and close the eyes, in between, but then, in those moments, I would be transitioning into a world created in the book, and not escaping it. 
This book by Saiswaroopa Iyer is one such book. I must confess, I had picked this book with some sort of trepidation, afraid of my own expectations. There has been, of late, a deluge of books on Indian mythology. India, the sleeping elephant, has woken up, and is kind of shaking the dust off huge, gigantic body. We, in India, are now going back to re-discovering our heritage and history, away from the cunningly-crafted web of lies, essentially denying and deriding any of our ancient History. Only few days back, someone on Twitter quite confidently argued with me  that before the British, there was no such thing as India. If one refers " The Ancient Geography of India" written in 1870, one finds written references to India as Yin-Tu (Hindu) by the Chinese as early as 2nd Century BC. 
There is, however, an awakening and a hunger to know the past- the real, non-communist, apolitical version of our past. And this explains the huge number of books written on Indian Mythology. When the volumes are higher, there is a real possibility of quality slipping down. I have found often the books on Indian Mythology, lazy work, too full of modern day cliche`s  and cuss-words which in the context of the stories, not only become obtrusive; rather are offensive as well. There are not many books like Vayam Rakshamah of Acharya Chatursen (in Hindi) or Narendra Kohli 's work on Ramayana in the recent spurt of mythological fiction. In the recent books, one can possibly count Gurucharan Das's "The Difficulty of Being Good" based on Mahabharat as a book written with due seriousness, but it is too philosophical. That is where Avishi Scores. Avishi is honest to the context and history and ambitious in the fictional span. 
Gender-fanatics might pounce at me for writing this but honestly, I find women authors exceptionally adapt at telling the stories with multiple dimensions and wider context. When one reads Virginia Woolf's "Orlando" or " The Waves " what stands out is how the story effortlessly grows and spreads and spans about. When one reads through the near-400 pages of this book, this realization dawns on the reader. Much like Ms. Woolf's books or better still, like George Eliot's Middlemarch , this book travels across the years, and places and right when one is wondering, as to where will it all lead to, with a pronounced feminine finesse the dices beginning to roll correctly in pattern, loose ends begin to get tied up in an exquisite and elegant design. This book is a work of definite and immense labor of love and it shows. 
The story begins in an imaginary city of Vrishabhavati , on the banks of river Sarasvati (It is said that Rigveda was written on the banks of Sarasvati, which dried up as Aryans moved Eastwards towards Gangetic Plains, as in Atharva Veda the references to the Ganga comes with prominence), from where the Vedic Indian civilization is said to have begun. On the other bank of Sarasvati, lies the another habitation called Ashtangani , a collaboration of Eight Janapads, each with different occupational line. The two sides of Sarasvati represent the two world's coming together and this story takes shape on the sharp edges of the line which divides them. As we read in Vedic India, arable land in India was aplenty and was not a bone of contention, between the Aryan tribes and wars to conquer lands was rare. It was cattle which the fights were about and the term used to mention the war between tribes was Gavisti (Battle for cows).   Vrishabhavati is the representative of an earliest Monarchy, and with advent of Commerce, greed creeps in and expansionist tendencies begin taking shape. Still, when the story is told, overt expansionism is still not acceptable and even the evil king wants to extend his rule over the Janapada by means not as obvious as a war.
The Naimisha is a kind of Intellectual powerhouse which binds the multiple Aryan tribes together. It is a place where Rishis or the intellectuals live. They are the people who are engaged in defining settling the questions of public and private morality of a freshly civilized race and are thus held in high esteem. This rings to close to Sir Alexander Cunningham's contention that while India was split into multiple kingdoms, still these Kingdoms considered themselves a part of a larger religio-socio-political entity called Bharat or India as per the oldest inscriptions and literature. In this fictional tale so close and so honest to the real Vedic history, Naimisha is the over-Arching Aryan identity which connects all the initial habitations of Vrishabhavati, Ashtangani and Kaushala (the last one, not fictitious) and whose moral sanction is necessary for these diverse tribes. 
The story begins with the murder of the king of Vrishabhavati and his royal guard, Sukratu , by his treacherous General Ugra . Sukratu's daughter Avishi is rescued just in time by a mystique tramp, Loha , who had taken shelter and living with Sukratu at the time. As they escape to the other side of Sarasvati, Dhruti - a warrior-huntress of Ashtangani protects them and dies in the process. Dhruti 's husband, a Doctor saves them and once better, Loha drops now-orphaned Avishi to Naimisha, where she grows up into a young, warrior-woman. Avishi leaves Naimisha in search of her past and finds her future once she reaches Ashtangini. Khela , who was an underling of Ugra, is by now the new monarch of neighboring Vrishabhavati, having murdered Ugra, who is on an ambitious, expansionist drive. He attracts the artisans of Ashtangini by enticing them with more money, as they began to slowly turn into advocates of enemy state, in order to profit, under the garb of trade and cooperation with the neighbors. There is also outcasts, Dandaks ,  who are used by Khela to fight for them. 
The most wonderful part of this book is the tight leash that the writer has kept on the story, keeping it immensely gripping and engaging in spite of its length. There is suspense and conspiracy which makes it quite a page-turner. For an ancient book, it is quite surprising as to how close to the present it is. The greed, the dishonesty, the breaking down of the idea of a nation to help the enemy succeed- one can find all that in play in the modern day India. Satya , the doctor-mate of Avishi, whom she meets in Ashtangini, leaves her soon after in search of prosthetic limbs. When he comes back to Ashtangini after a failed search which led him to Naimish , he finds his mate (not Wife since the concept of marriage is still being debated in Naimisha) as head of the Janapada- the republic. His dreams and his discomfort in living a life as a faint shadow of a glorious wife sets him out again in the search, which he believes is the purpose of his life. Whether Satya finds his elusive invention? whether Avishi is able to defend the docile people of her newly-found home from their malevolent neighbor? - These are some questions which Saiswaroopa keeps adroitly wrapped in the layers of this thoroughly engaging story. Do read and indulge yourself with a world lost in the past, but which might, just might hold answers to many questions of the present and the key to our future as a nation.  

हे मातृवत् वसुंधरा - An Ode to the Motherland- Hindi Poem

हे मातृवत् वसुंधराहे सप्तसिंधु की धरा।भरत की सिंह-गर्जनासुल़क्षणा सुदर्शना।शिव की योग-दृष्टि तुमप्रथम-रचित हो सृष्टि तुम।है भूमि ये अशोक कीये वत्सला त्रिलोक की। शून्य तुम, अनन्त तुम,ग्रीष्म तुम, वसन्त तुम।सागर का जो विस्तार हैवह राष्ट्र का आधार है।उत्तर में हिम प्राचीर हैअविचल निर्भय वीर है।विंध्य की सुप्त श्रंखलाज्यों सुंदरी की मेखला।पश्चिम का प्रखर प्रताप होपूरब से उठा आलाप हो।आज़ाद का अभिमान तुमबिस्मिल की अक्खड शान तुम।सुभाष का बलिदान तुम,एक अनवरत अभियान तुम।माता तुम्हीं में प्राण हैंश्रद्धा हो तुम विश्वास तुम।निर्भीक तुमको सौंप दूँ माँगो जो अंतिम श्वास तुम। जो शीश भी तुम माँग लोसंशय न लूँ हिय में जरा।हे मातृवत् वसुंधराहे सप्तसिंधु की धरा।
         - साकेत

India – That Is Bhaarat - Part I

I
“Every record had been destroyed or falsified, every book re-written, every picture has been repainted, every statue and street building has been renamed, every date has been altered…..Nothing exists excepts an endless present in which the Party is always right.” – George Orwell, 1984.
Ancient Geography of India: Sir Alexander Cunningham, 1870
Introduction:          The history of India has been manipulated and sullied similarly. So much so that even as Indians, we have forgotten our proud History as Indians and what we do remember is so full of remorse, so dense with defeat that instead of pride in being the descendants of one of longest-living, continuous train of civilization in the world, in spite of centuries of ruthless oppression, still surviving with a named identity, we are ashamed, embarrassed and confused. We are educated on propagandist history, which tells little and judges more, leaving us muddled, embarrassed and often fractured. There are earlier books written in the beginning of British rule, which were little apolitical and more factual. It is a pity that those books and those great writings are not even referred to in our history books and rather a leftist agend-driven history is what which is available to us. I am not a historian, I am rather a reader of History and write with a renewed pride in our national history.
The Making of Hindustan:
The story begins from the time when the super-continent called Gondwana which broke up some  10 Million years ago as the Indian plate moved and upwards, hitting the Asian continent, giving rise to the most prominent geographical feature which will eventually form the boundaries of the oldest civilization of Humanity- the Himalayas. The lands south of Gangetic plane has huge resemblance to the other lands which came from the same Super-Continent, namely Africa, Australia and Antarctica, in terms of rock formations, flora and fauna. The land which makes the Himalayas has the features of underwater earth and these two facts placed together comprehensively supports this theory. Once the break-away land mass hit the Asian Continent, pushing the underwater land upwards, giving rise to the Glorious Himalayas, it became fairly stable, with huge tracts of arable lands, blessed with gorgeous rivers and glorious rains. This land was later to become Bhaarat, India and Hindustan.
There is a prominent theory of Aryan invasion which we have been reading in our books. How words can change the nature of facts is amply demonstrated in the way this theory of Aryan invasion has been presented in the British and post-British era. This theory has been used for two purposes, One, to justify the cruel Islamic and European invasions in the later days; secondly, to create a wedge between the Southern and Northern Indians in the name of Aryan and Dravidian theory.
There is a truth in the fact that Aryans came to India from foreign lands, and Harappans had their established base by then in the Indus valley. It would however be unfair to call the movement of Aryans into India as invasion. It was rather migration. Aryans came into the peninsula from Central Asia Steppes, North of Caspian Sea. However, they did not arrive as an invading army of a powerful monarch on empire-building spree. We are talking of the period around 1700-1500 BC. That was a time when Human beings were emerging out of the forests and discovering their supposed superiority from other animals, walking on two limbs with remaining two free for fighting, defending, loving and creating; a mind which could eventually produce language; and an intellect which could tame fire. There are two things which stand out in Rig-Veda most prominently which very vividly paint the world we are talking about- Vach (Speech) and Agni (Fire). The two things which held human beings steady in a hostile and tumultuous world was Speech and Fire. It separated humans from other animals, intellectually and protected them, physically from the hostile hunters much powerful than Man.
Writing was still not there with Aryans, a warrior nomadic race when they landed into the Indus-valley. So speech was important, and the way to carry the learning of one generation to another, was from voice to voice, repetition to remember.
These are the words, spoken somewhere between the fast drying up banks of Saraswati and the marshy edge of Gandak, as the Aryans moved in Gangetic planes, which still seem to keep thundering in the Indian minds of current generation (As the Indian race continues to program the computers and win Spelling-bees in the 21st century):
“Come again, lord of speech! Together with Divine mind; Lord of Good, make it stay, In me, in myself be what is heard.” – Atharva Veda
A nomadic tribe, comes out of hostile forest and keeps itself safe by creating fire, in the dark and dangerous nights. There is a lot around them which they do not understand. They are moving from the physical to the spiritual. This individual journey has not change since those days of Indus-valley to this day of Maslow’s hierarchy. We have those who have walked before us to lighten up the path enveloped in darkness; much difficult was the time when there was no past, and the canvass was threateningly clean. The Aryans who split in two groups in Iran (Arianna) and one of them moved Eastward. The group of Aryans which stayed back in Arianna would eventually have Darius, The Great as a worthy descendant,  an empire-builder who ruled over Egypt, Persia, Kandhara, and Sind, who would be described himself in 500 BC as 
" I am Darius the Great King, King of the Kings...King in this Great Earth, far and wide, Son of Hystaspes, An Achaemenian, A Persian, An Aryan, Having Aryan lineage". 
The group of Aryans which landed in the Indus started on its path of building a new, spiritual civilization, and began its spiritual quest that early. It began attempts to understand the world and the only mean to do this was a newly found faculty- Speech or Vach, while it kept floating from one foreign land to another, eventually reaching the Indus valley. We note this joy in discovery of language in Rig Veda.
“When men sent forth the earliest utterances of speech, giving name to things, then was disclosed a jewel, treasured within them, the most excellent and the Pure.” – Rig Veda (1500-1000BC)
While the structured writing came to Indians  somewhere between 500 to 800 BC, some efforts of writing began as early as 2000 BC (Buddhist relics are mentioned to have inscriptions as early as 4000 BC by the Greeks). Brahmi was the earliest language we find. The inhabitants of Harappa and Mohejo-Daro were the initial residents and primarily business communities. They were known to sell the produce even in as far lands as Sumer. This is found in Sumerian inscription (2000 BC) mentioning a city on the mouth of the river at the sea, resembling Mohenjo-Daro. They called it Meluhha. One of the key commodities which the Meluhhans sold to Sumerian was Cotton which was also called as Sindhu by them. It is easier to be carried away and get trapped in the treacherous interpretations calling the Aryan migration as some sort of large design to colonize the natives. Of course, there were wars. Of course, Aryans hated the Muluhhans and derided them as lowly Pani (Mercantile tribe) as against more war-like and ferocious Aryans. Still, we cannot and must not look at the events of 1700 BC with the eyes of 2100 AD. At least we must not judge them. 
The lands were then sparingly populated. Most tribes in those times were migratory and nomadic. They did not move from one place to another with White Man’s burden on their soul. They did not have a base elsewhere and colony somewhere. They had no base, and they had no sense of roots. They survived nature by running away from hostilities. Escaping the harsh and arid central Asia, they found abundance of water and a welcoming weather in the Indus valley. Possibly for the first time, they found majestic rivers like Sindhu (Indus) and Saraswati and Huge rains. Awed and amused, Aryans would pray to Saraswati and write: 
“ When the streams of rains poured from clouds, the Sindhu onwards rushes, like a bellowing bull. ” – Rig-Veda
They found cities for the first time in Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro, each with approximately 35000 People. The men of Indus, the Dravidians who were not warriors and were largely business people confounded them. They had no military leader, and Aryans found it strange. They were warring tribes and much earlier understood the concept of Military leadership, as they had appointed Indra as their leader. They were the people surviing through a sequence of never-ending strife, moving from one place to another. They also did not understand the wonderfully evolved civic structure of the Harappans. Harappans had complex systems for irrigating the farms, built dams and were agriculturists. They had temples, Public and Private Baths and structures of modern living. Nomadic Aryans were confounded by their stationary lives. There was immense symmetry in the Harrapan life (even the bricks were quite symmetrical – 30x15x7.5 cms). They prayed and worshiped phallic symbols and Pashupati (Indus people were earliest worshipped to Shiva). For agrarian Dravidians, it was quite understandable to pray to a God who as Pashupati (the Lord of the Animals) as cattle was required to support their urban life supported by agriculture.  Harappans used Copper as Bronze and even fought with weapons made of these metals. These were of course, no match of Aryan weapons made up of Iron. Aryans also, having travelled long distance, had built excellent Chariots driven by Horses, a surprise thing to be used in the wars for the Indus-Valley people.
Aryans did not conquer the Harappans, as the later day invaders would; they simply ran over the cities they did not understand. Probably Harappa was Hariyappamentioned in the Rig-Veda which was conquered by the Aryan Commander, Indra.
“At Hariyappa, he smote the vanguard of the Vcreivants, and the rearfield fled frightened.” - Rig-Veda.
Agni , the Fire, was the God which reduced to ashes all the opposition they faced as Dravidians (As the later Historians called the Indus-valley people) fled their city, destroyed and lost in flames. Aryans did not make them slaves, did not acquire those cities Dravidians left. They burnt down the cities, adopted the customs and rituals of Dravidians, and took to worshiping Linga (the Phallus Structure) as the sign of Shiv, as they moved on with their nomadic existence.
As we see, they did not come to tame or conquer or bring the souls of the natives to Salvation. They were innocent victims of their times who accidentally chanced upon India. The same people who overran the Dravidians, and celebrated “ Indra running over a rich city with a Hundred gates, inhabited by the worshippers of Phallus ” became in time Shiv-Worshippers as they settled down, calling him Mahadev , the greatest of all Gods. Their intent was not to convert and conquer. They were in search of home which they found in India. They found home in India just as centuries earlier Dravidians had, when the pre-Hellenic people from East-Mediterranean, known to Herodotus as Termilai, landed here as Dramila or Dramiza. In those early days of mankind, there was no concept of Native, as human race sprang out of one single woman in Africa some 150000 Years ago. While Dravidians were earlier entrants into India (2500 BC), Aryans were later entrants (1700 BC). The races merged, settling around the Gangetic planes (the place where the closes descendants of Indus Valley inhabitants could be traced around modern Bihar and Bengal). The rituals of Harappans, whom Aryans blamed earlier to be Workers of Magic, invoking Agni to burn them to ashes- found space in Aryan religious practices as they settled down into sedentary agrarian life in the rich lands of India.
A nation was already formed by the time when it was recognized by Megasthenese as a Rhombic shaped piece of magnificent land blessed with incomparable natural riches, in 400 BC and which will be called as Yin-Tu (Hindu) or Thian-Tu by the Chinese in 200 BC. 
Even though vested interests might tell the story otherwise, disclaiming a historical geo-political identity of India or Hindustan, this is the land which was declared in Vishnu Purana (Around 1000 BC) as:
“The land that lies North of the Ocean, and south of the Snowy Mountains is Bhaarat, for there dwell the descendants of Bharat.”

There begins the history of India- That is Bhaarat, and which stretches from the Himalaya in the North to the Oceans in the South. 
I shall Continue on this Story, having embarked on it. 
References: 1. Gem in the Lotus- The Seeding of Indian Civilization: Abraham Eraly2. The Ancient Geography of India: Sir Alexander Cunningham, 18713. Vedic India:Zenaide A Ragozin, 1895

The Tyranny of Unwritten Word

Let me put it on record- Writing is not fun. There is no happiness in writing. There is immense satisfaction in having written. When one is too overwhelmed by the world around, and one cannot quite fathom how one should react to it, One writes. Writing is the outcome of inadequacy of action. 

No, this does not mean that writers are not men of action. Writers, more often than not, want so much action that their physical world fails to sustain. Thus, the imagination, the fiction, the fantasy and the words. Words- that exquisite conjoining of alphabets obtained in the excavation of the soul. 

The written word nourishes, the unwritten is a constant turmoil. What does the writer do when he is not writing? He is either cursing, belittling, downgrading himself in his own mind. His pen gets heavier with every wordless day. There is a reason that writers and poets are mostly sympathetic and friendly to one another. They know and can identify with one another's pain. They are almost like to soldiers on the front, both hit by the bullet in the leg, holding on to their pain and putting forth a brave face with clinched fists and tightened jaws. Each book tells how the inadequacy of person resulted in the unavoidable foray into the cruel and lonely world of art. 
While the book is written, the whole process- of shutting out the world, of getting up from the bed with the world asleep around you, of staring at the unfeeling, stone-hearted, sleepy-eyed blank white piece of paper staring back at you, feeling the heavy feeling of the agony of unwritten words. One might say - why write at all? Because you cannot not write. When you have- as they say- a way with words, you have no way out of words. Graham Greene writes in his essay "Books in General" - 
' The novelist is a victim of passion. ' 
He shall write in hiding if the world mocks him; she shall write in darkness if the bright lights tend to blind her. She will run, escape, plunge a knife in her soul, and twist it till such time a word escapes-A word and then a sentence- that Hemingway called - One true sentence, and another after that.  He says with a great sense of irony that-
' There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a type-writer and bleed.'
Greene in the essay mentioned above, mentions the unhappy cohabitation of Flaubert with his creation, Madame Bovary, quoting Flaubert, who wrote about the trauma of  litterateur living with an unfinished work of literature, hounding his days and darkening his night to the depths of blackness. We would believe the greatest novelist of modern times to be totally in control of his literary world he created. But no, Flaubert writes- 
' My accursed Bovary torments and confounds me....I am utterly weary, utterly discouraged. You call me master- what a sorry master I am. There are moments when it all makes me want to die like a dog. '
Some would think that the money, the pecuniary consideration would make it worthwhile. But multi-million dollar contracts are few and far-between. Most successes are accidental. Money, if at all, makes it worse when it starts guiding your pen. Then your pen wilts, your words are charred and the soul of the blank, white page in front of you dies. The relation between the pen and the coin must be established and re-established often. The money must come because of Pen and must come as a visitor not as a conqueror to the land of soul. Joseph Conrad had his son lying in high fever while writing The Secret Agent. He writes-
' I seem to move, talk, write in a sort of quiet nightmare.' 
He then mentions his boy waking up in pain and while he mentions it, he says, almost like explaining and justifying to himself-
' I won't go to him. It is of no use. ....shall than go on to elaborate a little more the conversation of Mr. Verloc with his wife. It is very important that the conversation of Mr. Verloc with his wife be elaborated.'   
He tells this matter-of-factly fashion but it is so heart-wrenching. No one wants him to write, no one is telling him to. But his being a writer is an unwritten curse of fate that he cannot escape. The conversation of Mr. Verloc with his wife has to be elaborated. He, the great Joseph Conrad, is as helpless as any other writer, stretched between his duty as a father to his ailing son and Mr. Velroc in his book waiting for him to come and expand a conversation. 
One does not chose writing. One is chosen to be a writer. It is not a happy thing to discover that you are the chosen one. It is not something you write to your relatives about, like a new house, new job. It is a discovery which is often embarrassing, even tragic. But it is responsibility which is inescapable. So the best you can do, when the words come calling, to write quickly and get out of the muddle. A writer's job and fate is to write, and when he is not writing, he is preparing to write. Do not be beguiled by a writer's appearance of passivity. When is appears to be not doing anything, he is preparing to write, he has a conspiracy at hand. He will write, eventually. For he cannot escape his fate. He can see the truth that others cannot, which hounds him. He has no choice but to share with the world that rare vision. All he needs to do is the hit the dagger deeper in the heart and find that truest of the word, and then another word. Writing is difficult, thankless and painful, but nothing compares to the agony of unwritten word.  So write, he must. 

Jagga Jasoos- Movie Review

Movie: Jagga Jasoos

Actors: Ranbir Kapoor, Katrina Kaif, Saswata Chatterjee

Rating: 4.5/5

Graham Greene in his essay- ' Is It Criticism' writes-

" Film criticism, more than any other form of criticism, except perhaps that of the novel, is a compromise."
His point being that if one understands and writes about the craft, readers do not find such reviews readable. The reviewer at the same time is at pains to ensure that his review remains as enjoyable as the movie itself. I totally agree. What makes my job easier is that I am not a movie expert, at best, I am an avid movie-watcher and movie-lover. 
Be that as it may, the film, Jagga Jasoos, wins my affection on form and fun. The film, purely in terms of form, a spy-story-musical must be watched for the audacity of making such an extraordinarily structured movie, so far from the usual. The movie is cute, exquisitely beautiful riot of colors. Without a doubt, one would think this movie must have lived in the mind of the Producer/Director, Anurag Basu for a long time, before being shot and canned and eventually reaching the screen, probably a childhood dream. Pritam has been hounded and ridiculed in the past for unoriginal music scores. He redeems himself in Jagga Jasoos . The music is brilliant, and will win with much little encouragement (a tough and complex call it must have been to promote the music of a musical; since being a musical, the movie is laced with songs). With such brilliant music, such lovely writing, it would have been hard to chose which song to take to the masses with more attention, which might explain bit muted music promotions. I found it odd that the song that stuck in my mind was not the Ranbir Kapoor's hostel dance, the song most often played on television. (though, undoubtedly, it is a treat to watch him dancing). What stayed with me was the odd-ball and funny:  
"Sab khaana kha ke daroo pee chale gaye"

 and 

" Purulia mein arms drop,  humko usase kya, 
Patna mein train blast, humko usase kya, 
Nimbu Mircha ghar pe taang ke, hum safe hain,
Nimbu Mircha ghar pe taang ke, hum safe hain."

(I hope I got the words right, age is catching up) 

These were the quirkiest two songs, although the quirkiness which flows all along the movie makes it so special. The advantage of audacity is that it is very unlikely to be repeated, and will remain a testimony to the exceptional courage. That is what this movie creates for Anurag Basu, this movie, I suppose will live in his legacy as a film-maker and artist. 
The movie is the story of a boy-man, Jagga-an orphan. The kid is taken in a hospital, where he meets Prof. Baadal Bagchi, who, we later learn, was an undercover agent for a rogue agency, led by Saurabh Shukla as the head of an intelligence unit turned rogue. There are some charming moments as the kid grows up and takes Prof. Bagchi, whom he calls as Tooti-Fruiti as a father-figure. Latter is chased out and the kid ends in an orphanage - hostel. The movie begins with Purulia arms drop, an event from 90s when surprisingly an alien aircraft flew into Indian Airspace and dropped weapons in Purulia in West Bengal. The accused in this episode of dark espionage and political conspiracy, Kim Davy, claimed the involvement of then Congress Government, who as per Davy wanted to create unrest in West Bengal in order to dismiss the Communist West Bengal Government on the premise of violence and impose President rule. The readThe event is taken as the backdrop of the story, as accident-prone Bagchi causes the alien aircraft to drop the weapon at wrong location and the story takes a start. 
Jagga is a character who is on the border of fact and fiction, and we don't really get to catch if Jagga is a real person or a comic-book character. Jagga grows up as a kid with exceptional deductive skills which wins him the friendship of an amiable local cop, Inspector Palit ( Rajatava Dutta ). However, that does not matter. The story is not very complex, but is brave by the fact that it does touch the matter of Naxal movement, militancy in north-east, illegal foreign funding for the purpose of breaking India. Prof. Bagchi disappears and Jagga reaches out to the journalist Shruti Sengupta (Katrina Kaif) who is rescued by Jagga in the first half as they travel to Africa searching for Prof. Bagchi. The story moves into African landscape as they find and demolish the base of Arms supplier (supposedly behind Purulia and other armed insurgencies in India). This movie is not Chicago, a much acclaimed Hollywood musical, even though the format is same. The movie does not tire you in spite of lack of surprises and a very long length of three hours. It is our own, very Indian and very cute musical, and must be cherished thus. 
Ranbir has acted phenomenally well, with great natural actors like S aswat Chatterjee, Saurabh Shukla and Rajatava Dutta around, he not only holds his own, he shines very bright, with his stammer, with his emotions, innocence and dance. Katrina is charming in glasses and fits well in the role of a London-educated journalist. We do not however find her writing ever. Well, trust Ranbir also being the co-producer, not much attention was paid to build the character of Katrina who largely remains a supporting cast. When the clouds are hanging heavy on these monsoon days, with grey depression of densely humid day clouding your mind, this is a perfect movie of bright happiness. Go watch it, with kids, preferably. It is an inspiring art and will inspire the audience too. In the middle of many nonsensical movies with hidden agenda (often not hidden well, for instance, Tubelight cleverly carrying the leftist narrative on India-China friendship (even holding Indian responsible for 62 war in some round-about way) and on nationalism, and Raees creating a Robinhood image for a criminal mercenary and religious fanatic (Latif had an only Muslim gang in Gujarat); Jagga Jasoos, for all its fault has its heart in the right place.

अमरनाथ की अमरकथा - एक व्यंग्य

नितांत अन्धकारमय रात्री भी समाप्त होती है, सो यह रात भी हुई। नेताजी प्रसन्न हुए। कल की रात ज़रा मुश्किल से गई। कश्मीर में गोली चली थी। कुछ हिन्दू जो अमरनाथ दर्शन के लिए निकले थे, शहीद हुए। बड़के नेताजी सुबह सुबह आने की निर्देश दिए थे। तीर्थयात्रा एंगल हिंदू हृदय सम्राट (प्यार से हम उन्हें हिहस पुकारते हैं) को अत्यधिक कठिनाई देता था।

मीटिंग समय पर आरंभ हुई। हिहस शाँत थे, विचारमग्न थे।

'हम्मम..' - हिहस बोले

मंत्रीगण उत्साहित हुए, प्रफुल्लित हुए, मानो चकोर को चाँद के दर्शन हुए।

"गृहमंत्री जी, इस देश में तो रहना ही कठिन हो गया है"- हिहुस बोले

गृहमंत्री राजा महाराज जिन्हें सब प्यार से 'राजमा'कहते थे,की नज़रें कलाई से उठकर हिहस की ओर बढ़ी, मानों उलाहने से कह रही हों- 

'हमें का पता, काहे सबके सामने बेइज़्ज़ती कर रहे हो।'

राजमा बोले-


'हिहस, बाक़ी जगह ठीक है, कश्मीर की ही समस्या है, देश में रहने में कोई समस्या नहीं है।'
'अरे हम हमारे रहने की बात कर रहे हैं।' हिहुस झुँझलाए। 'रात भर हमारे ही समर्थक गरिया रहे हैं। आप को देखना था अन्य देशों में लोग कितना स्नेह करते हैं, और यहाँ यह? ऐसे भी कोई समर्थक होते हैं?

राजमा ने अपने चरणों को निहारा, और चिन्ता में मग्न हुए। दो सप्ताह हो गए पेडिक्योर नहीं हुआ। करूण ठीक कहता है, सब स्टाइल की बात है, सब चैनल वाला उसी को बुलाता है।इसी से उसको एक के बाद दूसरा मंत्रालय मिल रहा है। मेनिक्योर-पेडिक्योर के बिना संभवे नहीं है। राजमा जी ने पलकों के किनारे से सदाबहार करुण जी को देखा। हृदय में ईर्ष्या का बाण सा उतर आया।

'राजमा जी, कुछ तो कहें, क्या जवाब दें जनता को?'

राजमा जी विचारोपरांत बोले-


'श्रीमन, बहुधा संकट में ही अवसर छुपा होता है। जब तक विपक्ष के राजकुमार आत्ममंथन करते रहेंगे, हिंदु वोटर तो अपना ही है। क्यूँ ना हम वामपंथियों के समर्थन में सेंघ मारें?'
हिहस तनिक शाँत हुए, हालाँकि उन्हें राजमा जी की बात ठीक से समझ नहीं आई। किंतु उन्हें 'वोट' 'वोटर' जैसे शब्दों से भरे वाक्य संबल देते थे। उन्होंने मित्र एवम् सहयोगी, जिन्हें सब स्नेहवश 'भई वाह'कहते थे, उनकी ओर देखा।

'भई वाह, किंतु यह किस प्रकार होगा?' भईवाह बोले

राजमा जी माथा खुजाने लगे, सोच में पड़ गए। करूण की काटने के चक्कर में बोल तो गए, किंतु योजना थी नहीं। हिहस और भईवाह के प्रश्नों का उत्तर ऐसा तो था नहीं जैसे गृह मंत्रालय चलाना। योजना चाहिए। मस्तिष्क ४८६ कम्प्यूटर की भाँति कार्यरत था। साक्षात विचार-विमर्श में यही समस्या है। साक्षात ना होने के अनेक लाभ हैं, जैसे किसी चैनल का स्टिंग उठा कर ऐसे दिखाओ मानों मानव नें गुरूत्वाकर्षण जैसा कोई सिद्धांत खोज लिया हो। जनता को लगे कि काम हुआ, चैनल को लगे कि नया मित्र मिला सत्ता में। राजमा जी को महसूस हुआ कि सब आँखें उन्हें ही तक रही हैं।

'हम सोचते हैं हम कश्मीरियों के पक्ष में बोलें।'

'कश्मीरियों के पक्ष में?' भईवाह सोचने लगे, उन्होंने आई-पैड पर उस राज्य का धार्मिक वोटर वितरण देखा जहाँ अगला चुनाव था।

इधर भईवाह उहापोह में थे कि पीछे की पंक्ति से सोशल मीडिया अध्यक्ष, चकित चक्रम बोले- 'इंडिया विथ पाकिस्तान' 'भगवा और गजवा' ट्रेंड कराएँ? कश्मीरियों का साथ देने का यही साधन है। 'नादान टीवी' चैनल वाले चकित होकर समर्थन में आ जाएँगे।'

'ये तो टू मच क्रांतिकारी हो जाएगा। वामपंथी तो वैसे ही पलटू हैं। किसी के सगे नहीं हैं।'
संचार मंत्री में नव-उत्साह का संचार हुआ। ऐसी स्लोगन-वर्दी बातें उन्हें बहुत भाती थी। जहाँ उनका नेटवर्क नहीं पहुँचा, वहाँ भी तीन वर्षों में स्लोगन पहुँच गए।

मंत्रीजी बोले- 'कोई ऐसा सगा नहीं, जिसको इन्होंने ठगा नहीं'

हिहस खिन्न मन से बोले- 'यह कविता का अवसर नहीं है। जनता उद्वेलित है।'

'हिहस, आप जनता ज़्यादा ही वेटेज दे रहे हैं। जनता रोटी पानी में मगन है, दो चार दिन बोल कर आगे बढ़ लेगी। इस देश में सौ-दो सौ मरने से कुछ नहीं होता, छह-सात में क्या होगा? रहा वामपंथियों का, हमारी पुलिस तो अब तक कन्हैया कुमार एँड फ़्रेंड्स को पालपोस कर बड़ा कर रही है, तब भी लेफ़्ट को चैन नहीं है। इतने दिन में तो राष्ट्र द्रोह में कर्नाटक की कांग्रेस सरकार बड़े पत्रकार को भी अंदर कर देती। निंदा करिए, काम पर चलिए!' - राजमा जी बोले और उत्साह-वर्धन के लिए संचार-मंत्री की तरफ़ देखे।

चकित चक्रम को इस तरह किनारे किया जाना पसंद नहीं आया। क्या उनका दिल नहीं कि वो नादान टीवी के स्टूडियो में जाएँ। क्या युवा हृदय की अभिलाषाओं का कोई अर्थ नहीं? क्या युवा वैचारिक नेता नही बन सकता, संपादकीय नहीं लिख सकता, सुन्दर महिलाओं से डिबेट नहीं कर सकता? 
बोल पड़े - 

'क्यों ना हम आनलाइन पोल चलाएँ- क्या हमें आतँक का मुँहतोड़ जवाब देना चाहिए? ट्रेंड होगा, जनता सवालों में खो जाएगी।'
'ये भी कोई प्रश्न हुआ? इसका उत्तर सब जानते हैं।'

'हम उनसे सुझाव माँग सकते हैं।हम उसपर कुछ पुरस्कार भी रख सकते हैं। प्रविष्टियाँ डिजीटल हस्ताक्षर के साथ माँगते हैं। डिजीटल इंडिया का प्रचार भी हो जाएगा'

'उसमें समस्या है। कोई सरकारी डिजीटल सिग्नेचर संस्था वाली  है  ही नहीं ।"
- संचार मंत्री नजरें चुराते हुए बोले 

हिहस की भृकुटि तनी।

'काहे? ये भी ग्रामीण इंटरनेट जैसा चल रहा है?आप बस लोगों का इस्तीफ़ा मांगें '  

'सरकार की कोशिश, अफ़सर-तंत्र की साज़िश' - संचार-मंत्री एक नए स्लोगन के पीछे जा छुपे

'खैर ,मुद्दे से भटकें नहीं। कड़ी कार्यवाही तो की- आतंकियों को मारा, सर्जीकल स्ट्राइक्स की- और क्या कठोर कार्यवाही करें? भक्त अभक्त से अब वीभत्स हुए जा रहे हैं।"

मार्गदर्शक मंडल की तरफ़ से गला खँखारने की आवाज़ हुई, सब उधर मुड़े।

"ये सब कास्मेटिक कार्यवाही है, जनता ऐसा मान रही। आप कश्मीर में पैदल सिपाही गिरा रहे हो, उनके जनरल कान्फ्रेन्स में भाग ले रहे हैं, पुस्तक छाप रहे हैं, विदेशी विश्व-विद्यालयों में व्याख्यान दे रहे हैं। पिछले वर्ष दस मरे थे, इस वर्ष पंद्रह, ईश्वर नें चाहा तो अगले वर्ष बीस मरेंगे, उससे क्या होगा? कठपुतलियाँ गिर रही हैं, संचालक मर्सिडीज़ में निर्बाध घूम रहे हैं, उससे क्या बनेगा? रक्तबीज हैं ये, एक से दो, दो से चार, चार से सोलह बनेंगे। बिना बौद्धिक समर्थन के आतँकी गली के गुँडे से ज़्यादा कुछ नहीं है। मीडिया है, बिका हुआ है। समानांतर मीडिया लाइए।" 

- बुज़ुर्गवार नें करूण और राजमा की ओर देखा। राजमा पुन: पेडिक्योर की चिंता में खो गए थे, करूण की दृष्टि मानो छत चीर कर पिछले सप्ताह छोड़े हुए उपग्रह को ढ़ूँढ़ रही थी। चक्रम  ने बुज़ुर्गवार को लेकर नए व्यंग्य बनाने का निर्देश व्हाट्सएप दल को फ़ोन में टाइप किया। चिंतित पार्टी संस्थापक बोले-

'आप बौद्धिक समर्थन खींचें, विश्वविद्यालय में प्राध्यापक बदलें। अख़बारों में राष्ट्र-विरोधी लेखों पर क़ानूनी कार्यवाही करें। अब ये तो न कहें कि बिना न्यूज़ चैनल के स्टिंग के आपको इस आतंकवाद-समर्थक धन -तंत्र का ज्ञान नहीं है। अगर ऐसा है तो आपका सुरक्षा तंत्र मिथ्या है। ऐसा नहीं है तो राजमा जी बताएँ कि कार्यवाही क्यों ना हुई?"

राजमा जी कुर्सी में हिले, मन में विचारे- 'इन्हें तो कोई चैनल बुलाता नहीं है, मौक़ा मिला नहीं कि बुढ़ऊ बोले ही जाते हैं। वानप्रस्थ का इन्हें कुछ आईडिया ही नहीं है।'

संस्थापक महोदय नें फिर गला साफ़ किया-

'देखो, दिशा स्पष्ट ना होने से ये जो अँधेरें में खड़ा शत्रु है, प्रोत्साहित होता है; रक्तबीज का रक्त बोता है और नए राक्षस तैयार करता है। तुम हर देश को पाकिस्तान का समर्थन बंद करने को कहते हो, ख़ुद उससे शिकायत भी करते हो तो नाम नहीं लेते। काहे? गाँव की औरत हो जो पी कर मारने वाले पति का नाम नहीं लेती?
हिहस नें तीक्ष्ण दृष्टि से उनकी ओर तका।

राजमा ने वातावरण पर उतर आए तनाव को समझा. बोले-

"सबको साथ लेकर चलना होता है, आपके समय जैसा नहीं है। सबसे दुश्मनी ले कर सत्ता नहीं चलती। लोग तो हर बात पर हिंसक हो जाते हैं। हमारी तो संस्कृति ही भीड़ की हिंसा की हो गई है।"
करूण ने राजमा को देखा, राजमा ने करूण को। सब सुना-सुना सा लग रहा था। कहाँ? शायद कल रात की नादान टीवी पार्टी में। भईवाह भाषा की समानता को तुरंत कैच कर लेंगे सोच कर राजमा नें ख़ुद को सँभाला।

"हमको कोई इन हिंदुवादियों नें नहीं बनाया है। सुबह शाम मैट्रो और बसों की पंक्तियों में खड़े रहते हैं सोचते हैं राष्ट्र इन्हीं से बनता और चलता है।अरे भाई, घर के पास भी तो मंदिर होता है, सरकार ही चलाती है, वहीं दो अगरबत्ती जला लो। नहीं, ये अमरनाथ ही जाएँगे।"

"किन्तु इनकी भावनाओं का सोचना तो होगा?" हिहस बोले

"हिहस, कृष्ण  भले कह कर चले गए किंतु कर्म इनके हिस्से नहीं है, मिथ्याभाषण है बस। आप चिन्ता ना करें। इनकी आवाज़ भी सीमित है, उसका दायरा भी। वाम वाले तो हमेशा इन्हें गाली-गुल्ला कर के शाँत करा देते हैं, हम ही भाव दिए रहते हैं। वैसे भी हिंदुवाद अपने आप में छद्म सोच है। यह है क्या- हिंदी-अहिंदी, किसान-व्यापारी, ब्राम्हण-ठाकुर-दलित, हिंदू-सिक्ख-बौद्ध-जैन- ऐसे बिखरे हुए मानव समूह को आप क्या ख़ुश कर सकेंगे? दूसरी ओर स्वार्थ से संगठित संघ है। कल एक महिला ने कहा कि अब आँतंकियों को उत्तर देना होगा। मैंने कहा हर कश्मीरी आतँकवादी नहीं है, और फिर तो सब तरफ़ वाह-वाह। और फिर जो वाम वाले पिले हैं, ट्विटर से भगा दिए, फौजी की पत्नी को। आप सोच नहीं सकते, निर्मम हत्याओं के अगले दिन गृह-मंत्री को बौद्धिक वर्ग का ऐसा समर्थन।दक्षिणपंथी क्या खा कर इसका मुक़ाबला करेंगे ? वाह!'

बुज़ुर्ग नेता धीरे से बोले- "किन्तु उस महिला ने कश्मीरी तो बोला नहीं ?"

"अरे, आप समझते नहीं हैं। उसने नहीं , हमने तो बोला, तभी तो हुई वाह वाह। कश्मीर और कश्मीरियत- यही चल रहा है आजकल"

बुज़ुर्गवार फिर बोले- "जब सब धर्म को निकाल दिया तो क्या बची कश्मीरियत?"

भई वाह बोले- 

'हमने ट्रेंड देखा। वह महिला किसी सैनिक की पत्नी और लेखक है। फिर भी, हिहस, ध्यान दें, उसने ट्विटर से पलायन किया, क्यों? क्योंकि उसने कश्मीरियत का अपमान किया।उसकी नौकरी पर ख़तरा, क्यों? क्योंकि उसने कश्मीरियत का अपमान किया। राजमा जी कश्मीरियत की रक्षा हेतु खड़े हुए, उनकी चहुँओर जयकार। कश्मीरियत ही रामबाण है। दैट इज़ द वर्ड, वी गो विद इट।
चक्रम, आप पोल कराएँ और बताएँ कि क्या हम हम केरलियत और बँगालियत का टेप उन क्षेत्रों के परेशान करने वाले लोगों के मुख पर लगा सकते हैं जहाँ राज्य में सरकार हमारी नहीं किन्तु लोग ज़िम्मेदारी हमारी मानते हैं? जब यहां चल गया तो वहां क्यों नहीं, यहां तो राज्य सरकार भी हमारी थी '

राजमा जी- 

'कल के ट्वीट के बाद से प्रगतिशील वामपंथी समुदाय में हमारा भारी स्वागत हुआ। इस नवीन वामपंथी सौहार्द की आँधी में सब सुरक्षा वियवस्था की विफलता का प्रश्न,विदेशी, नक्सल-समर्थक पत्रकारों का राजनीतिक प्रश्रय, ऐसे सब प्रश्न हवा हो गए। हिहस कहें तो वरदराजन जी को सुरक्षा सलाहकार, सुश्री अयूब को विदेश सचिव और अब्दुल्ला जी को नेशनल इंटीग्रेशन काउँसिल का अध्यक्ष नियुक्त किया जाए। हम सोच रहे थे नव-सिंचित मित्रता का लाभ लेने में किंचित संकोच ना करें। सोचते हैं अमरनाथ घटना में एक कश्मीरियत कथा घुसेड़ दें। बस -ड्राईवर मुसलमान था।'

आख़िरी वाक्य तक राजमा जी के शब्द फुसफुसाहट बन गए।

हिहस आगे को झुके और उसी अँदाज में फुसफुसाए- 'तो'?

राजमा मुस्कुराए- 'यही तो तुरूप का पत्ता है'

हिहस- 'यह तुरूप का पत्ता है यह सुरक्षा व्यवस्था की विफलता की तुरही बजाना चाहते हैं? मसलन बस परमिट के बिना, अवधि के पार क्यों चली?

राजमा बोले- 'बस पार हो रही थी। किनारे से गोली चली। ड्राइवर वीरतापूर्वक गाड़ी भगाता निकल आया और उसने तीर्थयात्रियों की रक्षा की।'

हिहस की समझ से परे बात निकल रही थी। करूण कूदे।

'भाई, आप यदि गाड़ी चला रहे हों, किनारे से गोली चले तो आप भी सीधा गाड़ी भगाएँगे ही। इसमें क्या वीरता?'
'आप तो समझते हैं करूण भाई, चैनल कहे भीरूता तो भीरुता, वीरता तो वीरता। और ना सिर्फ़ वीरता, कश्मीरियत भी, क्योंकि ड्राइवर मुसलमान था, सवार हिंदु। वैसे कश्मीर में हिंदू बस में ही दिखते हैं।''लेकिन वो ड्राइवर तो गुजराती है'

'अरे, कौन देखता है, नेरेटिव मस्त बनता है- कश्मीरियत।'
हिहस- "कश्मीरियत तय हुआ। कल के घटनाक्रम का एक उत्तर- कश्मीरियत, चाहे वह आज की राजनीति की तरह खोखला क्यों ना हो, मुक्ति इसी से होगी। ज़्यादा कष्ट हो  तो राजमा जी और करुण जी के नादान टीवी वाले मित्र मदद करेंगे।"

भाई वाह अपने फ़ोन को अत्यंत संतुष्टि के साथ देखते हुए बोले-
'हिहस, उनके संपादक ने आभार भेजा है आपको, कि मिथ्या समाचार पर मिथ्या प्रदर्शन पर अपने सच में संज्ञान लिया। आपको लाल सलाम भेजा है।
हिन्दु हृदय सम्राट ने सभा-समाप्ति का निर्देश दिया।


"सभा विसर्जन"

The Significance of National History

"The most effective way to destroy people is to deny and obliterate their own understanding of their history.- George Orwell"

There are some words which come to you in a way that they keep coming back to haunt you at the most uncertain hour. As these words revisit you time and again, they look newer and fresher than before as if they have come having bathed in a some pond of eternal truth which has cleansed them off any rare blemish of untruth that might have been left in their being when they were written. These words of Orwell stand like a far away lighthouse in the in the middle of the darkest of the night, standing forlorn, yet silently serving the purpose of showing the path. 
Recently there was a debate on the Television, with Pakistani guests, on the subject of terrorism (what else?). An interesting thing happened. When an Indian debater tried referring to shared history of thousands of years, so as to make Pakistani guest contemplate how Pakistan has turned into a theocratic, Islamist state- a global producer of terror, starting from a shared origin and history. As Indian debater said, in a good faith,"Let us go back in the history 5000 years."
Retort immediately came from the Pakistani Guest, "Why go so far in the History? Let us start from 1948."
The mark in the history to which the Pakistani wanted to return in order to take a considered view was very well calculated- not 42, not 1947, let us go to 1948. He knew the going even one year further will bring us to 
a) A shared heritage
b) Bloodiest political segregation of humanity on the basis of religion
As his position was to attack India on what he wold contend a secular and democratic cause, both will be defeated by going to 1947 or any further. Negation of history would allow him to remain deluded about the grand position he was taking, however much it was inconsistent with his being it might be. He needed his world to begin from 1948 to succeed. 
I was reading a book on Indian History recently. It is actually a book on Geography. The book is called "The Ancient Geography of India" by Sir Alexander Cunningham. The book covers the Travels of Buddhist Chinese traveler, Hwen Thsang and details of the campaign of Alexander, and maps the information from these sources with the geography of the time when the book was written, that is, year 1871.  This book was written over a period of 13 years, way far back at a time, when wars were not fought on stealth and cheating and therefore, academicians and Intellectuals had not yet been signed up as political pawn, unlike those card-carrying communists who were given the task of text-books in the Independent India, and who just as the Pakistani individual mentioned above, were interested in a History which began not much before them, them here being Marx. 
As I was sharing the interesting information, which reflected Hindu History of Kashmir, a Kashmiri bumped in together with Pakistani on Twitter, attempting to discredit this believing this to be some Hindu conspiracy to reclaim, at least intellectually Kashmir and Pakistan. When one of them debated, He insisted we start discussing from 1949. Now, this guy did not want history to begin from 1948, he wanted it to start from 1949. He wrote location as India Occupied Kashmir in profile and was supported by Pakistanis in his foolhardy intellectual challenge. His premise was broken the moment he was told that the information came from a book published much before Pakistan came into existence and thus has nothing to do with current political conspiracy. 
Why did he want the history to begin from 1949? He wanted to skip the portion when Pandits lived in the valley, when Tribal irregulars from Pakistan attacked his forefathers and created such mayhem that they reached out to India for rescue. That world when Pakistan was the invader and attacker in the history of Kashmir, he wanted to pretend, did not exist. 
Human mind is very interesting. It not only gets influenced by the information available to it, it is often creative, cunning and crafty enough to create the data which helps it reach the conclusion it has already set its eyes upon. Those who train and brainwash these people have their agenda. They want the problems, the strife to remain, for it legitimizes their war, however gruesome it may be. For Hitler it was supremacy of pure Aryan race, for them, it is a deep rooted faith in Islamist supremacy, which is merely waiting for its turn to rule the world. Those who carry their nefarious agenda, would never want a Pakistani mind to go beyond 48 and a Kashmiri mind to go beyond 1949. If they could go beyond that, Pakistani will understand the failed experiment their nation has become. With the world's second largest Muslim population in the nation from which they separated on the fears of Muslims not being safe, the premise of creation of Pakistan stands defeated. They are searching for the legitimacy of their origin in a cause which could defend their existence as a nation. So a nation which has GDP lesser than a large size european MNC, which has terrorists as state's strategic assets, which declares gun-trotting terrorists in neighboring country as freedom-fighter, tries to find rationale of its creation and existence in Islamic cause. A nation which should be bothered about uplifting the poor state of its own state, is concerned about Muslims in India, Palestine, Indonesia and all such places. It survives on the basis of creation of a fake history which starts in 1948. Thus it wipes off common history and shared heritage. In the process, it creates a vacuous and intellectually empty, rootless state. When East Germany found no reason to exist with the failure of communism, it merged back into West Germany. That is because irrespective of all rivalries, they remained aware of their history. 
Carl Sagan said- 
"You have to know the past to understand the present."
Vested interests in Pakistan would never want their citizens to know a shared heritage going into thousands of centuries. They would want people to believe that the history began with Mohammad Gori. The world does not begin (or ends) with Military conquests. But when citizen and the world around is losing faith in their existence, any ray of possibility of undoing the mistake of 47 will hasten the quick recoiling of Pakistan into the embrace of India or to implode into non-existence. They would not want Pakistanis or the Kashmiris to know the past, for then they would understand their present better, and also the futility and failure of their present. That is however, the reason that Indian history be cleared off the propaganda and taught in earnest to Indian all across, including Kashmir. Will we not have people unashamed and unembarrassed if they knew that the last days of Chandragupta Maurya of Magadh (Current Bihar) were spent in Karnataka. India existed as a singular entity in the days when it was for administrative world broken into 82 Kingdoms. Still it operated, breathed and was looked upon by the world as a single entity called Hindustan. That had no distinction of North and south, Kashmir and Dravid, it was one. We would immediately understand the regressive play of politics in today's world when we are technically one state and sovereign. People who create their space by creating fissures in the society will immediately lose relevance. Maybe, it would take a generation or two, learning about our history and heritage will re-connect us with our land and our people. There shall lie our salvation as a nation beyond factionalism of today and of 1947. You cannot negate the past and hope for an honest future to emerge from this dishonest deception.

Book Review- Doctor Zhivago- By Boris Pasternak

Greatest works of art always stand at the intersection of the key social events. What makes them stand apart from an ordinary reportage, unmindful of human angle, or a personal account, a blindly ignorant of social context of huge consequences- it the careful and crafty way of story-telling which maintains a delicate balance between the characters and the world they live in. This takes huge amount of effort on the part of the writer, to hold the story on that extreme edge of the abyss. It is almost like holding a bull gone berserk, by the horns, and keeping the beast on the track. Stories are like that, and once written to a point, they begin demanding an autonomy. Stories struggle to break free, they want to hold the pen of the writer and try to push their ways.  

As the scope and expanse of the story increases this unruly behavior reaches to a stage where it threatens to destroy a good novel. It is the sign of an exceptional masterful writer when he keeps the control of the stories, without even appearing to be doing so. Virginia Woolf did that in Orlando, George Elliot in Middlemarch. Russian greats have always been the master of this art. Most Russian novels are long, winding and run a constant risk of losing the track. Most great Russian novels never do. Woolf says that the soul is the common and most critical character in all Russian novels, Dostoevsky's, included. Since Russian novelists see the characters as souls, the characterization is complex and thrives on the muddled shades between the white and the black. Virginia Woolf writes in The Common Reader- 

"A new panorama of the human mind is revealed. The old divisions melt into each other. Men are at the same time villains and saints; their acts are at once beautiful and despicable. There is none of that precise division between good and bad that we are used to."

There is an abundance of soul in this great classic- Doctor Zhivago. It tells the story of an intellectually away soul, a Doctor, whose life progresses across the interacting forces between passion and morality, between hope and ambition. He is a doctor, he deals with human body. He practices a science which deals with the body of a human being, which has no concept of human soul. What an odd choice of character for a Russian novel, if one were to believe Ms. Virginia Woolf. But no, she is not wrong. This Doctor has the drawer of his table full with pages of written poems. Amid war, amid the struggle between a woman he loves and must not, and the woman he lives with, amid being a Doctor, a soldier and a poet- he becomes a soul. As Woolf says- the old divisions melt into each other. And once that happens we know, we have in our hands one of the greatest Russian Novels of all time. This is eastern, oriental treatment. The story moves with soul, not with events. That is the beauty of it and that brings it much closer to me as an Indian reader. 

Another strong feature of Russian writing is observation. Although, observation is also amply covered by some western writers like Conrad or Fitzgerald, but here the observation is less scientific and more philosophical, soul-centric. Character-development happens through vivid descriptions. Here Pasternak, explains the character of Tsar- 

"Accompanied by Nikolai Nikolaevich, the sovereign inspected the lined-up grenadiers. With every syllable of his quiet greeting he raised up bursts and splashes of thunderously rolling hurrahs, like water dancing in swaying buckets. ...
....

The Tsar was pitiable on that grey and warm mountain morning, and it was eerie to think that such timorous reserve and shyness could be the essence of an oppressor, that this weakness could punish and pardon, bind and loose."

Such a glorious prose, such vivid descriptions!!

The vision mingles and melts into thoughts and spirit and becomes one with well, what Ms. Woolf calls soul. One gets into it and comes out of it. Read this: 

"The moonlit night was astounding, like mercy or gift of clairvoyance, and suddenly into the silence of this bright, scintillating fairy tale, the measured clipped sounds of someone's voice, familiar, as if just heard, began to fall."

This story of Dr. Zhivago, a doctor and poet, moves along his life as Russia passes through wars and eventually the revolution. His loss of parents, life as an orphan, his marriage, more out of friendship, less out of love. His meeting up with Lara and a passionate affair of two intellectual minds lost in a world which is transforming into an un-intellectual space of engineering certainties with no room for intellectual possibilities. A great book, to be read and re-read. 

सनातन - The Continuum - Celebrating Hinduism

           


             सनातन- The Continuum

     सतत सूर्य सनातन का, न होगा अस्त, विश्वास रख।
    सकल निरंतर सत्य है,यह धर्म शाश्वत, विश्वास रख।

      शब्दों का भीषण कोलाहल,
       कुतर्क का कुटिल न्याय है।
      इतिहास का गौरव भी जैसे
      विस्मृत सा इक अध्याय है।

      राष्ट्र-भाषा, राष्ट्र-भूषा
     कारण बने उपहास के।
    राम राज्य में राम के
   अब भी हैं दिन वनवास के।

     वर्ण का और वर्ग का
    यह भेद एक षड्यंत्र है।
    इक धरोहर, एक राष्ट्र
    धर्म का यह मंत्र है।

    है निरंतर धर्म यह
   आरंभ है ना अन्त है।
   सत्य-शोधक धर्म है यह
   अनवरत जीवन्त है ।

  भोले की मस्ती ओढ़ ले
  तेरा गगन, तेरी धरा,
  तू सत्य का संवाद है,
  संशय ना कर मन में ज़रा।

   केशव का गीता-ज्ञान तुम
  गाँडीव की टँकार तुम।
    तुम मौन हो संकल्प का,
   तो युद्ध का हुँकार तुम।

   राष्ट्र समझो, धर्म जानो,
   मूक लज्जित मत रहो।
   हो सनातन, हैं सनातन
  मित्र सब मिल कर कहो।

   सतत सूर्य सनातन का, न होगा अस्त, विश्वास रख।
   सकल निरंतर सत्य है,यह धर्म शाश्वत, विश्वास रख।

              - साकेत

The Bell Jar- By Sylvia Plath : Book Review

The Bell Jar
Author: Sylvia Plath (Under the Pseudonym "Victoria Lucas)
Published: 1963
Pages: 234
Amazon Link: Click Here

"Doctor Gordon's waiting room was hushed and beige. The walls were beige, and the carpets were beige, and the upholstered chairs and sofas were beige. There were no mirrors or pictures, only certificates from different medical schools, with Doctor Gordon;s name in Latin, hung about the walls. Pale green loopy ferns and spiked leaves of a much darker green filled the ceramic pots on the end-table and the coffee-table and the magazine-table."
"But when I took up my pen, my hand made big, jerky letters like those of a child, and the lines sloped down the page from left to right almost diagonally, as if they were loops of string lying on the paper, and someone had come along and blown them askew."
I had been meaning to read this book for long time. I was restrained by two things- One, the book did not seem to be available in most of the bookshops I would visit; Two, I had a feeling that this book would be a bleak, gloomy and grieving story. This was the only novel which Sylvia Plath wrote before eventually committing suicide, only a few weeks after the book was published. The Bell Jar is almost a memoir. It is the story of Esther Greenwood, a young, bright student who is struggling with an intellect which is so prominent that it becomes a burden. 
The awareness of genius which opens doors becomes a burden to the young Esther, a student, interning with a fashion magazine with other friends. At times, such abundance of talent becomes a boon with so many options it present that leaves the hapless young girl (or boy) baffled and confounded. I read this book after having read The Journals of Sylvia Plath and it is hard to believe how honestly and how blatantly she had picked from her own life to make this story. She is worried soul. The sense of time passing by, and not having produced the work of Art which one knows one is capable of- is the simmering theme in her journals. The same worry we find here in The Bell Jar. Any writer or an artist can immediately recognize this fear of having to pass through this life with stories unwritten, poetry un-penned, drawings not drawn. Virginia Woolf, a literary idol and inspiration to Ms Plath also found Fortieth birthday as some sort of doom, an indication that she was running out of time. In her journal Plath writes- 
"The horror of being talented and having no recent work I'm proud of, or even have to show."
In The Bell Jar Esther thinks- 
"What I always thought I had in mind was getting some big scholarship to graduate school or a grant to study all over Europe and then I thought I'd be a professor and write books of poems or write books of poems and be an editor of some sort."
Like Plath, Esther represents a middle-class bright kid, who knows her calling is to be a poet or a writer, but cannot avoid her Physics and chemistry. She is a tormented young soul pulled between a world of convenient mediocrity and an agonizing search for the right place for her immense talent. 
She lives in the dangerously conflicted zones of mind. As Plath writes in her journal- "No children until I have done it." 
Esther however, much like Plath, is a woman in constant turmoil- between the human and the woman, as if the two were antithesis to one another. She not a feminist, or the feminist as it was understood in the Sixties, a member of some sort of secret Women Only club. She wants to be with men, in love, married, have kids, eventually, but she wants to write. She slips into depression and only towards the end, when she meets Dr. Nolan, an independent, yet normal woman, that she gets the answer to the question- 
" 'I don't see what a woman see in a woman that she can't see in a man?'
Dr. Nolan paused. Then she said, 'Tenderness.'
In all her life for the first time, Esther finds a friend in Dr. Nolan, someone who could offer her what she needed, what any artist needs- An unquestioning understanding, a Tenderness. A friend is what she had longed for all her life. Then she trusts her enough to share with her, the deepest scar in her soul which kept her bleeding all her life
" 'What I hate is the thought of being under a man's thumb.....A man doesn't have a worry in the world, while I've got a baby hanging over my head like a big stick, to keep me in line' "
This is what I consider the most significant conversation of the whole novel. The whole matter is about coming to terms with what you are, without negating it, without getting into a conflict with it. She is not looking at chastity. She wants to have child, have a husband (be happy for the success of her husband as Plath was for Ted Hughes' success as a poet); but she also wants to fulfill the demands her own tremendous capabilities placed on her. She wants to celebrate being a woman without surrendering the promises her own talent places on her as an individual. Even when the story is about the struggle of an extremely, all-A, young individual, goes through the challenging world of depression, suicide attempts and mental asylum; contrary to my fears, the book and the writing is always bright, and hopeful in some sense. The style of writing of Ms. Plath is extremely visual. She doesn't write with the inward-looking patience of Ms. Woolf; she writes with an extremely observant eye which is her own. The language is extremely visual and picturesque (the excerpt on the top is a proof of it). 
Fortunately, Esther finds resolution, unfortunately, Sylvia Plath did not and ended her life, much like Virginia Woolf. We are left only to wonder what great work we would have been blessed with if only she had lived longer. 
My recommendation- Do read. This books will answer some questions for every artist even if you are not a woman.