Shevlin Sebastian's Blog, page 5

A pen as sharp as a sword

 

Photos: Kiran Nagarkar: Photo by Tulsi Vatsal; Book cover; Author Salil Tripathi. Photo by Udayan Tripathi

In ‘Asides, Tirades, Meditations’ — Selected Essays, Kiran Nagarkar, one of the notable writers of post-Independence India, writes with an electric style on a host of topics   

By Shevlin Sebastian 

Author Salil Tripathi grew up in an apartment near Kemp’s Corner where Chaitra, an advertising agency, had an office. His mother would translate Chaitra’s advertising copy into Gujarati. Now and then his mother would meet the celebrated author Kiran Nagarkar, who also worked there. When Tripathi was in his twenties, he was introduced to Nagarkar. They began a lifelong friendship. 

After his studies abroad, Tripathi joined the Indian Post newspaper as an assistant editor. He offered Nagarkar an opportunity to write a column. The celebrated author became a film critic for foreign films. That is probably how Nagarkar became a columnist for an English-language newspaper. 

Tripathi recounted this in his introduction to the book, ‘Asides, Tirades, Meditations—Selected Essays’ by Nagarkar (Bloomsbury). 

Tripathi did mention that in 2018, three women journalists accused Nagarkar of behaving inappropriately. He denied the allegations. The next year, Nagarkar died of a cerebral haemorrhage. He was 77.  

Tripathi said, “I admired him as a gifted writer, a champion of freedoms, a friend who saw through the clouds clearly, who warned us about the seductive peril of majoritarianism.” 

There are 36 essays in the 317-page book, clubbed under the headings, ‘Writing’, ‘Cinema’ and ‘On Society and Politics’.  

In the first essay, ‘Clueless: An Occasional Writer’s Journey,’ Nagarkar states, ‘You can dictate to your characters. You can bind them hand and foot, you can take almost all decisions for them, you can make sure that they grow up the way you want them to, but the chances are that you will find in the end that they are not flesh-and-blood people but puppets and marionettes.’ 

This is probably the drawback of too many writers. But how to make characters come alive seems to be a gift from the Gods. Not everybody can do it.   

Nagarkar also confirms the important role played by the subconscious in creative work. ‘While there is no gainsaying the primary contribution of conscious thought and planning, it is the subconscious processes of the mind and that strange chemical laboratory called “gestation” whereby at times things seem to fall into place by themselves and trickier problems get resolved.’ 

It was interesting to note that Nagarkar studied Marathi for the first four years of his primary education. After that, his parents enrolled him in an English-medium school. Yet, he emerged as a major English writer. 

Nagarkar gained fame for his novels, including ‘Saat Sakkam Trechalis’ (tr. Seven Sixes Are Forty Three) (1974), ‘Ravan and Eddie’ (1994), and ‘Cuckold’ (1997). 

For ‘Cuckold’, he won the 2001 Sahitya Akademi Award in 2001. His books were very popular in Germany. In 2012, he received the Order of Merit from Germany. Nagarkar was also a dramatist and screenwriter.

Perception abounds in his essays. In an essay regarding libraries, Nagarkar writes, ‘The most extensive and underrated library in the world, especially in the poorer countries, however, is the institution of the grandmother…she is the mother of all libraries, the largest archive of the oral tradition. In India, she is the repository of the stories from the epics, from the Panchatantra and mythology. She is the one who transmits oral history from generation to generation and is the fount of traditional wisdom.’ 

And he also recalled interesting encounters and conversations. Once he met a friend’s Japanese fiancée. She told Nagarkar, “I know nothing about India, except the four things that I learnt at school.” 

“And what are they?” asked Nagarkar. 

The woman said, “You Indians eat with your right hand, wash your hind parts with your left. You burn your women and practise untouchability.” 

‘A brief, succinct and aphoristic, cultural, political and sociological history of India. A body blow,’ wrote Nagarkar.       

In the essay, ‘Shiva’s Blue Throat: A Persona; Vision of the Artist’s Role’, Nagarkar compared the writing style of Nobel Laureate Gabriel Garcia Marquez with Booker Prize winner Salman Rushdie. 

‘Rushdie’s joie de vivre, exuberance and deliberate punning are irrepressible,’ wrote Nagarkar. ‘His language is brilliant, flamboyant and endlessly playful ... He is a virtuoso trapeze artist whose words are always flying and caught in mid-air, doing the most incredible twists and turns. How can anyone fail to be carried away by his masterful performance? But neither can we forget that it is a performance.’

As for Marquez, Nagarkar said the language doesn’t bring attention to itself. ‘What strikes you from the very start is the richness and fecundity of his imagery, the almost infinite variety of the stories within stories he has to tell. And yet what you remember most are his characters and their fate.’ 

Other subjects include memories of his childhood, ageing, pretentious art films, star power in Bollywood, the city of Bombay, climate change, and ‘the fine art of intolerance.’                                      

The book concludes with an afterword by prize-winning novelist Nayantara Sahgal. They met in 2104 and immediately became fast friends. 

Nagarkar’s style is direct, clear and straightforward. These are easy-to-read essays. He always has an original viewpoint. There are many insights that are sprinkled all across the essays. Insights that make you pause and reflect and finally, get enriched by. 

‘Asides, Tirades, Meditations’ is an engaging read. However, there is no mention of when and where these essays were published. Overall, this is a book worth buying. If you are a serious reader, you will not be disappointed.

(Published in Scroll.com)

Heart-breaking and disturbing

  Captions: Book cover; Author Sanam Sutirath Wazir

SanamSutirath Wazir’s ‘The Kaurs of 1984 — the Untold, Unheard Stories of SikhWomen’ is a razor-sharp look at the extraordinary devastation that womensuffered after the assassination of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi in 1984

ByShevlin Sebastian

OnJune 4, 1984, Rachpal Singh, the secretary of militant leader Sant JarnailSingh Bhindranwale, was in a room in the Golden Temple. He was with his wifePritam and their 18-day-old son. The Army was shooting into the Temple duringOperation Bluestar. 

Pritamsaid, “A flash of light would come in from the space below the doors and blindus for a few seconds, followed by the deafening sounds of bombs. I could hearthe sound of tank treads moving outside our room, proceeding towards the AkalTakht (the chief centre of religious authority among the Sikhs).”  

At12.15 am on June 6, a bullet hit her baby’s back before hitting Pritam on thechest. As Rachpal bent over his wife and son, a bullet hit him on the head. Hedied instantly. Pritam lay in a pool of blood, with her dead husband beside herand her dead son lying on her chest. 

ManjeetSingh, the then press secretary of the Akali Dal, saw a young man and hisinfant son killed. The mother picked up the son and placed him on his father’schest. “It’s been more than three decades now, but whenever I close my eyes,that scene comes back to me,” said Manjeet.  

AuthorSanam Sutirath Wazir focuses on the suffering of Sikh women in the book, ‘TheKaurs of 1984 - the untold, unheard stories of Sikh women’. Many of whom wererape victims during the 1984 cataclysm that shook Punjab, and the riots thattook place in Delhi and other places. 

TheSikh psyche was shattered because of the army’s widespread damage to the GoldenTemple. ‘Over 350 bullets riddled the dome of the Golden Temple,’ wrote Wazir.‘One bullet pierced the cushion on which the Guru Granth Sahib was placed,pushing through as many as eighty-two pages of the book itself. Most of theitems in the toshakhana (a storehouse for valuables) were destroyed….all thehandwritten hukamnamas (orders), penned by different Sikh gurus across theages, were lost as well.’ 

Wazirwrites with painstaking details about the damage to the Golden Temple and thehuman rights violations by the Army and the security agencies that took placethereafter. Even women and children were not spared. 

Nosurprises, there was a blowback. On October 31, 1984, Prime Minister IndiraGandhi was shot dead by her Sikh guards, Beant Singh and Satwant Singh.Immediately, in Delhi, mobs, mainly orchestrated by the Congress Party, laidsiege to the Sikh community. 

AtBlock 32 in Trilokpuri, East Delhi, local leader Rampal Saroj, accompanied by agroup of men, asked resident Darshan Kaur where her husband Ram Singh was. She saidhe had gone out with his brother. 

Themen did not believe her. They broke down the main door and barged into thehouse. Ram Singh was hiding in the kitchen. ‘They dragged him out by his hair,’wrote Wazir. ‘They placed a quilt and tyre over his head, doused him in oil andthen set him ablaze. Ram Singh was nearly burnt to death; he later succumbed tohis injuries.’ In the end, all the Sikh men who were present in Block 32 onthat day were killed. There were 275 widows across 180 homes.  

Themen committed rape against elderly, middle-aged women, and teenage girls.Darshan said a young girl of 15 returned, naked and bruised. She had been rapedmany times, by some as old as her grandfather.  

Chapterby chapter Wazir tells harrowing tales about what happened to the Sikh women,in places like Sultanpuri, Raj Nagar and Mukherjee Nagar. Their lives weredestroyed. Very few have recovered. As one woman, Satwant Kaur, said, “Thosemonsters had scarred me for life.”

Astoundingly,many women recalled that the rioters used white powder on the victims. Wazirsaid that it could have been white phosphorus. The powder burns human flesh andcatches fire when exposed to the air.

Theviolence spread beyond Delhi. In Hondh Chillar, in the Rewari district inHaryana, a mass grave of Sikhs was discovered in 2010. 

However,India has not stepped back from this destructive route. Since 1984, accordingto a Google search, there have been over 70 riots in different parts of India.The latest was the Haldwani riots in Uttarakhand on February 9, 2024. 

Waziralso focuses on women who became militants and became part of pro-Khalistangroups as well as the lives of widows in refugee camps. 

Thisbook is a very valuable document. It heightens awareness of the suffering thattakes place. Or as feminist publisher Urvashi Butalia said on the cover, thebook is ‘graphic, disturbing and searing.’ 

Weneed to read it, get appalled and vow to ourselves that as a people, we shouldnever allow such events to happen again.

(Anedited version was published in The Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express,South India and Delhi)

Awakening our sensitivity

 

Photos: Pramod Thomas and his family; Pramod's friend, the journalist Jobin Augustine, who passed away in May, 2012. A condolence meeting was held at the Ernakulam Press Club

Journalist Pramod Thomas focuseson the everyday moments of life, as well as the tragedies that afflict societyin his book of poems

By Shevlin Sebastian 

Pramod Thomas was my formercolleague in The New Indian Express, Kochi. He was and remains an ace businessjournalist. Today, he works for an UK-based media group. 

But what nobody will realisewhen you meet him, with his focused, professional attitude, is that he is asensitive poet. At spare moments, which I am sure, is rare since he has a wifeand two daughters, Pramod writes poems. This is his way of battling stress andthe lack of meaning in life that afflicts everybody now and then.  

In 2017, he published his firstbook of poetry, ‘A Shoe Named Revolution’. Now, he has published his secondbook, ‘Biography of a Couch Potato’. It comes as no surprise that he hasdedicated it to his two daughters, Ayaana and Ahaana. 

It is also dedicated to ‘thosewho find comfort in the quiet moments and beauty in the ordinary; To the oneswho see poetry in everyday life — in the sunrise, the rain, a stranger’s smileor a fleeting thought. May these poems be a companion on your journey, offeringsolace, reflection, and a sense of belonging.’  

When you realise how conflict(Ukraine/Gaza/Lebanon) has been dominating the news for over two years, thefirst poem, ‘Eulogy of the Unborn’, is about war:

‘Do not stare at me, for I amdead

Don’t cry for me, 

Cry for my child, unborn. 

Her eyes shattered 

In the rubble,   

Only I can see a rainbow,

A colourless one though.’ 

The book comprises 21poems. 

One poem, ‘Blood Butterfly’,draws inspiration from a 13-year-old girl in Tamil Nadu who tragically lost herlife during Cyclone Gaja. Her family forced her to stay alone in a barn becauseshe was having her periods. 

Here is the concludingverse: 

‘While trying to pleasegods, 

We become less human. 

Forgive us, 

In the name of a zillionunborn. 

Now, we have blood on ourhands.’

Pramod dedicated another poem,‘Echoes of a Lost Spring’, to his journalist friend, Jobin Augustine, 28, whopassed away in May, 2012. A sub-editor with the Madhyamam Daily newspaper inKochi, Jobin fell from a private bus, got crushed under its wheels, and died.He was on his way to his home at Ramapuram.    

The poem, ‘A Poetic Flower’ isdedicated to the Kerala poet, A Ayyappan. Pramod is a fan of his work. Ayyappanwas found unconscious on October 21, 2010, in front of a theatre inThiruvananthapuram. 

The local people informed thepolice, who took the poet to the government hospital. Nobody, including thepolice, had recognised him. A bachelor, Ayyappan was 61 when he died. Peopleknew him as the ‘Icon of Anarchism’ of Malayalam poetry.  

Pramod writes: 

‘The street was not deserted

There were a few people,

But none recognised thepoet; 

They mistook him for adrunkard, 

Considering him a badomen.’ 

Pramod concludes the poem bysaying: 

‘In a city far away, manyawaited the poet,

Eager to honour him for hispoems, 

An event was ready to welcomehim,

Ears eager to listen to hisverses,

But life had other plans.’ 

‘The City of Sins’ focuses onthe rape and murder of a 31-year-old trainee doctor at the RG Kar MedicalCollege and Hospital in Kolkata on August 9, 2024. 

‘Kolkata, hang your head inshame, 

Retreat to your ugly thoughts,and end yourself. 

How can you raise your headnow? 

There is blood on yourhands, 

Your dark streets can never bethe same again.’ 

At the end of the poem, Pramodstates: ‘Sexual violence against women is a widespread problem in India — anaverage of nearly 90 rapes a day was reported in 2022 across the country.’

In the title poem, ‘Biography ofa Couch Potato’, Pramod says: 

‘There is no endgame in thisdull drama,

You live the same life everyday, year after year. 

When you’re glued to thescreen, 

Your comfort zone embraces you,

And there’s no goingback.’  

However, the book is not allgloom and doom. 

Pramod writes about lovetoo. 

‘There is no boundary to my lovefor you;

I am connected to you, 

Like a train to its track, 

A thunder to the cloud. 

And a chalk to theblackboard. 

You are the last drop of myrain, 

The final drop in my blood bank,

The last atom in my body,

The last prisoner in the world’slast prison.’

One gets the feeling his wifeStephena is going to be moved to read this. 

Other poems include dealing withthe suffering of a writer who has received rejection, the birth of a child to agay couple, which is overseen by a lesbian nurse, American Vice President KamalaHarris, wokeism, the Wayanad landslide tragedy, a Filipino woman who donned amermaid suit and performed in a large aquarium at Kochi, and the biography of astone.

The poems reveal Pramod’ssensitivity to human suffering and emotional pain. He writes from his heart.And so it affects us who read these poems. It makes us pause in our hecticdaily life and activates the sensitive aspects of our being. In short, thesepoems humanise us.    

‘Couch Potato’ is nominated forthe 21st Century Emily Dickinson Award. 

Life on the trains

 

For 57 years, KJ Paul Manvettam has been travelling daily by train from his home in Kuruppanthara to Ernakulam, a distance of 43 kms, and back. He talks about his experiences and also about his activism to double tracks, improve services and ask for new trains By Shevlin Sebastian KJ Paul Manvettam gets up every day at 5 a.m. He does not need an alarm. Whatever time he goes to sleep, which is mostly at midnight, he gets up on time every day. He goes through his morning routine of getting ready. At 6.40 a.m. his wife prepares a breakfast of idli or dosa. Then his son Pritto drives Paul to the station. Pritto is an optometrist. He works at his father’s shop, Polson’s Opticals, in Kochi. He comes later by bus. Paul has been travelling on trains every day, except Sundays, for 57 years. His journey is from Kuruppanthara to Ernakulam, a distance of 43 kms. At 7.20 a.m., the Palaruvi Express arrives at the station. It starts at Tuticorin and travels to Palakkad, a distance of 537 kms. Kuruppanthara is the 28th stop. Paul gets into any of four general compartment bogies. Despite the crowd, someone always offers Paul a seat because he is 75 years old. “The train is punctual 95 percent of the time,” said Paul. “But this is because they have now converted the stretch into double tracks.” Earlier, the journey from Kuruppanthara to Ernakulam was on a single track. So, the train would have to stop at stations so that other trains on the opposite track could go past. Inevitably, the train was late. Paul carries a monthly season ticket. In 1967, the price was Rs 18. Now it is Rs 180. “The daily charge for me for going and coming is Rs 6 only,” he said. “And if the discount for senior citizens is re-introduced, it will almost be free.” Asked whether the scenery had changed from the window over the years, Paul said, “Yes, there were a lot of trees and forests when I started. There were paddy fields where pelicans would use their long beaks to catch worms in the water. The houses were small. I remember one such house, near Mulanthuruthy, which belonged to a senior IAS officer.” Now, there are a lot of villas where there used to be paddy fields. The birds have vanished. “I wonder whether these people have any guilt about what they have done to the fields,” he said. “Many small hills have become denuded because of the quarrying of mud for house building and levelling of land. I feel sad.”Asked how fellow passengers have changed over the years, Paul said, “There was a lot of conversation in those days on several topics. People would play cards. It was usually rummy. There was a convivial feeling. It was lively. We had good relationships with each other.” But nowadays, when people get in, they immediately fixate on their mobile phones. A conversation can only be started when Paul taps them on the shoulder. He said it takes time for people to become friends with each other. Nowadays everybody can collect information on the mobile phone. “You don’t need to ask anybody whether the train is running late,” he said. “You can check it on the app.”Despite this, for the past 39 years, Paul has bought the handbook, ‘Indian Railways - Trains at a Glance’. The latest edition of the handbook, from October 2023 to June 2024, is priced at Rs 100 and contains 450 pages. “In the earlier days, everybody would consult it,” said Paul. Paul closes the shop at 7.30 p.m. He takes the 8 pm train from Nilambur to Kottayam. Paul gets down at Kuruppanthara at 9 pm. When he reaches home, it is 9.30 p.m. He has a bath, followed by dinner. Then he chats with his wife, Annamma, before he goes to sleep. The couple has two boys and a girl. Railway Activism Paul came to the attention of many in Kerala when, on January 3, 1997, he and his fellow passengers took out a jeep rally from Chengannur station to Ernakulam. They were demanding the doubling of the railway tracks along the 114 km route from Kayamkulam to Ernakulam. The group stopped at every station on the route. Many Parliament and Assembly legislators offered their support. The media provided extensive coverage. “It was the first time somebody had launched a campaign on this issue,” said Paul. It took three years before the Railways gave the nod. In May 2022, the Railways completed the doubling of the entire stretch. It was a wait of 25 years. For the past several years, at least once every three or six months, Paul, as State President of the All Kerala Railway Users Association meets senior officials, like the Division Railway Manager and the Chief Operations Manager, apart from officials from the Chennai office, at the Divisional Railway Users Consultative Committee meeting at Thiruvananthapuram. Around 20 people will be present. They will include representatives of merchant associations, disabled associations, chambers of commerce and passenger associations. All of them offer suggestions on ways to improve the railway’s efficiency. Besides that, Paul meets officials at the Ernakulam Junction railway station. A year ago, he asked officials whether the newly launched Vande Bharat train could have its ‘crossing’ at Mulanthuruthy (18 kms from Kochi) shifted to Tripunithura (10 kms from Kochi). The benefit, he said, is that a lot of commuters can get down at Tripunithura. “From there, they can get buses and metro trains to various destinations,” said Paul. The officials politely said they would look into it. “It is difficult for the Railways to make changes quickly,” said Paul. “A passenger thinks, ‘Why should it be hard?’ But the Railways are dealing with over 300 trains at a time. If it can be implemented easily, they will do it. No official wants to cause problems for the public. I am sure of that.” Paul also successfully campaigned, with the help of Parliament legislators from Kerala, for the Palaruvi Express to have stops at Ettumanoor and Angamaly. Earlier, he had campaigned for a stop at his hometown of Kuruppanthara and Vaikom. “I have always been polite in my requests,” he said. “I never raise my voice. And I have never lost my cool. As a result, the officials are receptive to my suggestions. I would like to add that the requests should be reasonable.” People have complained about the bogies being overcrowded. “Yes, I agree. Because train travel is the cheapest, there are so many passengers,” said Paul. “There is a limit for the Railways to increase bogies. The platforms cannot accommodate the extra bogies. They added four additional bogies to the Palaruvi Express. Still, there is no place to sit.” Paul campaigned for an 8 pm train from Ernakulam to Kottayam for many commuters. This happened on July 1, 1995. In early 2000, when Union Railway Minister Bangaru Laxman came to the Ernakulam Junction railway station for an event, Paul presented a memorandum requesting the doubling of tracks from Ernakulam to Tripunithura, as a beginning. Also present were the General and Divisional Manager. When Bangaru asked Paul about the benefits of doubling only 10 kms, Paul said, “Sir, because Tripunithura is a single line, many trains, including goods trains and oil tankers, get held up.”Bangaru conferred with the senior officials. They all agreed that trains have experienced delays. Immediately, he wrote a special note recommending it. They also submitted a petition to senior BJP leader O Rajagopal about this. In 2001, Rajagopal became the Minister of State for the Railways. Immediately, he campaigned to set aside money in the budget to begin work on track doubling. The rest is history. Asked about the character of Malayali passengers, Paul said, “They are comfortable, tolerant and accept difficulties. But there is a minority, who complain through their social media posts about deficiencies. They end up influencing the other passengers.” But Paul said the people know the railways are the best and cheapest way to travel, especially for elderly and disabled people.“Bus travel is so cramped,” said Paul. “You can get stuck in traffic jams. You can’t move around. And there is no possibility of using a washroom unless the bus stops somewhere. And the ticket charge can be as high as Rs 80. As for the train, it is Rs 3. Also, on the train, you can eat comfortably. Many people bring their breakfast in tiffins and have it on the train. It is just like being at home.”(An edited version was published in The Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

How history has shaped the Indian mind

 

Rahul Bhatia’s book, ‘The Identity Project — The Unmaking Of a Democracy’ through narrative, anecdote, research and on-the-spot reporting explains why India is the way it is today

By Shevlin Sebastian

In the book’s introduction, author Rahul Bhatia talks about an aunt’s partner who told him to be careful about Muslims. ‘They don’t see themselves as Indians,’ the man said. “Jaat hi alag hai (they are made of something different).” His aunt butted in, “You don’t know. They’re savages. I’ve seen what they are capable of.” Two friends told Rahul about the howling of the ‘mozzies’ minarets near their home.

Disturbed, Bhatia decided to investigate what had happened. He did six years of research and met all kinds of people. The result is a memorable 449-page book, ‘The Identity Project — The unmaking of a democracy’.

The book begins with a protest by the faculty and teachers of the Jamia Millia Islamia University. It was against the Citizenship Amendment Act. Parliament passed this act on December 11, 2019.

The police entered the old library at the Ibn Sina block. Then they began wielding their plastic sticks. ‘Squeezed in the crowd [student] Minhajuddin made for the exit,’ wrote Bhatia. ‘As Minhajuddin went by, he felt a whip and a burning pain across his left eye that almost made him faint. Although he did not know it then, the attack rendered his eye useless. It may have been his beard, he said later, that got the police’s attention. He wore it long then.’

Bhatia describes the students’ reaction to the CAA at Mumbai and Ambedkar University in Delhi. Most students were fearful. ‘They knew the police were using new technologies to identify dissenters,’ said Bhatia. ‘They had seen unidentified drones flying over protests, taking pictures, picking out dissenters and saw police point cameras at crowds. Their data was being transmitted to an unknown location, for unknown purposes.’ No surprises then that someone had scribbled, ‘Hindutva Gestapo everywhere.’

Bhatia wrote about the Shaheen Bagh protests. And the 2020 Delhi riots. At the police station at Gokulpuri, a photographer, Meherban asked Bhatia to walk from the building to a few Muslim-owned body parts and tyre repair shops. It took 91 steps.

Meherban said Hindu gangs set the shops on fire in February 2020. ‘It had been a slow-burning, with men returning in waves to set fire to one more shop, one more vehicle, one more tyre,’ recalled Meherban. ‘Despite the calls, no police had traversed the ninety-one steps.’

And in a chapter called Testimony, a mob gathers in front of a lane, shouting ‘Jai Shri Ram’ slogans. They also shouted hateful slogans, like ‘Kill the mullahs’, ‘Make the circumscribed run away’ and ‘Burn down their houses’. Then they moved into the lane and attacked all the Muslim houses.

Nisar, who built a successful business in textiles over decades, lost everything in one night.

But there was apathy everywhere for their suffering. Grievously injured Muslims would arrive at the Lok Nayak government hospital. The woman at the admissions desk said, “Didn’t you think before firing bullets and throwing stones? Do you have no shame?”

And when the people accompanying the injured said, “Does that mean you were there? You’re sitting in a hospital and accusing him of doing those things. So you were there too?”

But the woman did not budge. And the patients had to be taken elsewhere.

Despite pressure and threats, Nisar decided to testify against those who had pillaged and burnt his home. He had to attend the case at a sessions court in the Karkardooma court complex in East Delhi. Bhatia attended it and wrote a brilliant on-the-spot report about what happens inside a court. You will burst out laughing and after that pull your hair in frustration too. Finally, you will spread your hands out in exasperation as you watch the judge at work. It seems like things are moving ahead, but that is an illusion. Owing to endless delays and postponements, it took two years for Nisar to testify for the first time in front of the judge. No wonder people say the process is torture.

In the next section, called A New Country, the author traces the rise of the Arya Samaj in the 1850s. Dayanand Saraswati, a philosopher and preacher (1824-83), was the founder. Dayanand railed against the bloated idol worship of Hinduism. He spoke against child marriage and widow remarriage. And it was Dayanand who propagated the protection of the cow through a slim book, ‘Gokarunanidhi — Ocean of Mercy for the Cow’. This concept caught fire. The meetings on cow protection were attended by 5000 people. Soon, cow protection societies sprung up.

There was strife between Hindus and Muslims about it. In May 1894, the Allahabad-based newspaper, the ‘Pioneer’, reported that, for generations, the rival sects (Hindus and Muslims) had lived in harmony. But now the strain was showing. Sometimes, there was violence instigated by the cow protection societies.

‘Large numbers of Hindus armed with sticks and knives attacked smaller groups of Muslims with guns,’ wrote Bhatia. In 1882, there was a full-fledged riot in Salem. Many Muslim homes were burnt, according to the ‘Pioneer’. The mob razed a mosque. Along with the Arya Samaj, the Hindu Maha Sabha came into being in 1915.

In later years, a prominent Mahasabha official was a cataract surgeon named Balakrishna Sheoram Moonje. He worshipped Italy’s leader Benito Mussolini. Moonje wanted to set up a military school, like the way Mussolini had done in Italy. In the paperwork for the school, which was set up in 1937, Moonje stated that if the school is dissolved, the assets should go to Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS). A Marathi-speaking Brahmin, Dr. Keshav Baliram Hedgewar, had set up the RSS in 1925.

Bhatia traces the career of Hedgewar and comes up with interesting statistics. Between February 1926 and August 1927, there were 52 riots. Seventeen riots occurred because of processions and music played outside places of worship. Total dead: 200. Injured: 1700.

In the riots in Calcutta, from April to May 1920, 113 died, and the injured were 1070. ‘Moonje and other stalwarts of the movements to unite Hindus travelled to Calcutta shortly after the unrest had subsided,’ wrote Bhatia. ‘The injured had barely healed, and tempers barely cooled, when Moonje delivered an incendiary speech about the ongoing “civil war” between Hindus and Muslims.’

When Bhatia described the chaos and the bloody riots after the partition of India in 1947, he quoted Prime Minister Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru: ‘There is a limit to killing and brutality and that limit has been passed during these days in North India. A people who indulge in this kind of thing not only brutalise themselves but poison the environment…individual attacks continue in odd places by the kind of persons who are normally quiet and peaceful. Little children are butchered in the streets. The houses in many parts of Delhi are still full of corpses. These corpses are being discovered as people go inside and find dead bodies which have been lying there for many days.’

Later, Nehru stated that the RSS and Sikhs mostly fomented this organised violence.

Other subjects include the experiences of Partha Banerjee, who was a loyal RSS worker. However, he left the organisation in 1981. Banerjee wrote a book called ‘In the Belly of The Beast: The Hindu Supremacist RSS and the BJP in India, An Insider’s View’.

He told Bhatia that the RSS foot soldiers had ‘sub-par intelligence. Ninety to ninety-five percent of its members were practically brainless idiots. They dumb you down so that you are not allowed to think, question or challenge. You just blindly follow directives from leaders.’

Bhatia noted that in the RSS magazine, ‘Organiser’, a surgeon, wrote that if a woman had a contraceptive pill, she would grow a beard. ‘An opinion held in 1949 was likely to be held in the year 2023,’ wrote Bhatia.

Bhatia also wrote about the President of the Bharatiya Janata Party Lal Krishna Advani’s Rath Yatra in September 1990. The aim: to build a temple where the Babri Masjid stood. It was believed to be Lord Rama’s original birthplace. One of the rallying cries was: ‘Just one more push, break the Babri mosque’.

As the yatra proceeded from the Somnath Temple in Gujarat, deaths began occurring owing to inflamed rhetoric. On October 27, 52 were killed in Jaipur. On October 29, 88 died in Bijnor, Rampur, Lucknow, Howrah and Ranchi. By October 30, the death toll reached 67 in Colonelganj and Hyderabad.

And the story went on….

This book will shake you up. It is a must-read. The author writes it in a straightforward manner. So, it is easy to read. People will get an idea of how India is today, thanks to events that took place during the past 150 years. The need to know the past is imperative.

As Spanish-American philosopher George Santayana said, in his most famous and oft-repeated aphorism, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

(Published in kitaab.org)

‘How Long Can the Moon Be Caged?’ by Suchitra Vijayan and Francesca Recchia is an examination of how the Indian state stifles dissent

 

Photos: Authors Suchitra Vijayan and Francesa Recchia

By Shevlin Sebastian 

The book, ‘How Long Can the MoonBe Caged?’ (Voices of Indian Political Prisoners) by Suchitra Vijayan andFrancesca Recchia begins with a quote from the book, ‘The Gulag Archipelago’ byRussian literary great Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn: 

‘At no time have governmentsbeen moralists.

They never imprisoned people orexecuted them for having done something.

They imprisoned and executedthem to keep them from doing something.’ 

And the authors prove this inchilling, frightening and alarming detail. 

As Vijayan and Recchia stated,‘Political prisoners challenge existing relations of power, question the statusquo, confront authoritarianism and injustice; they stand with thedisenfranchised. Theirs is a ‘thought’ crime: the crime of thinking, acting,speaking, probing, reporting, questioning, demanding rights, defending theirhomes, and, ultimately, exercising citizenship.’  

The state’s response: widespreadarrests and incarcerations. Even illegal bulldozing of homes. One of theauthors’ research colleagues, student activist Afreen Fatima’s house in UttarPradesh, was demolished by the authorities on June 10, 2022. 

The first chapter, ‘A Season ofArrests’ chronicled in a timeline, from May 9, 2014, to April 17, 2024, themany arrests, temporary releases and rearrests of many activists, poets,fact-checkers, journalists, lawyers, social workers, intellectuals and membersof the Dalit community. It came to 41 pages.

It also chronicled the judicialfight waged by these people, while the government continued to amend laws togive even more unfettered power to the security agencies. Far too many times,the courts have sided with the government. 

Incidentally, authors Vijayanand Recchia took the book’s title from a sentence that activist Natasha Narwalsent in a letter from jail. Narwal had been incarcerated for protesting againstthe Citizen Amendment Act (CAA). 

In unflinching detail, the bookchronicles the arrest of academician GN Saibaba, who was in a car.‘Plainclothes police from Gadchiroli dragged the driver out, then assaulted,blindfolded and kidnapped Saibaba from the [Delhi] university campus in broaddaylight,’ wrote the authors. ‘No warrant was issued, and he wasn’t allowed tocall his wife or lawyer.’ 

For those who don’t know,Saibaba is 90 percent physically disabled and needs a wheelchair to movearound. And a district judge, despite scant evidence, did not give him bail.During his first 14 months in prison, Saibaba’s health deteriorated, his lefthand became paralysed and he had to be taken to hospital 27 times.  

‘The vast power granted underthe UAPA [Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act] and the regimes of impunity itoffers have fundamentally remade what it means to disagree with the Indianstate,’ wrote Vijayan and Recchia. ‘The UAPA essentially reversed criminal lawby shifting the burden of proof from the prosecution to the defence and makingit illegal to hold certain political beliefs, especially those that questionthe Indian state.’ 

Tragically, Saibaba joins a longlist of activists and politicians like Binayak Sen, Soni Sori, GaurChakraborty, and Kobad Ghandy, who have been falsely charged under UAPA. Butthe authors state that for every activist whose name is remembered, and theircase reported, hundreds disappear unknown.  

Suchitra and Francesca talk atlength about the notorious Bhima Koregaon case, where 16 activists, teachers,intellectuals, university professors, writers, and lawyers were arrested andcharged with arms smuggling, for allegedly helping Maoists, and having a plan tokill Prime Minister Narendra Modi, apart from waging war against the state.

They include Arun Ferreira,Sudha Bharadwaj, Varavara Rao, Vernon Gonsalves, Sudhir Dhawale, Mahesh Raut,Anand Teltumbde, Gautam Navlakha, Hany Babu, Sagar Gorkhe, Ramesh Gaichor,Jyoti Jagtap, Rona Wilson, Surendra Gadling, Shoma Sen, and Fr. StanSwamy.    

But the case against them hasbeen flimsy. As the authors write, ‘First, information asserted withoutevidence; second, tampered evidence presented as a fact of complicity. Aforensic report issued by [US-based] Arsenal Computing found that Rona Wilson’scomputer was compromised for over 22 months and the attack was intended for tworeasons: surveillance and planting incriminating documents using Netwire, aremote malware infrastructure.’ 

The Delhi riots

The authors also focus on thesix-day Delhi riots that began on February 23, 2020. BJP leader Kapil Mishraprovided the impetus by stating that the police should clear the roads withinthree days of protesters against the CAA. Otherwise, he would act. 

The riots began soon after.‘Mobs roamed the streets, unchallenged by the police in the days following theriots: an inferno unleashed in the heart of the nation’s capital,’ wrote theauthors. ‘The perpetrators dumped bodies and severed limbs into open drains,and bloated bodies were fished out of the gutter in the aftermath of thepogrom.’

A list of names had beenpublished in the book of those who had died. Out of 53 people, 40 are Muslims,while the rest are Hindus. 

In an extraordinary twist, thepolice accused those who were the victims of having inflicted the violence.‘The Delhi police claimed Muslims had targeted their own communities,properties, and people, killed fellow Muslims, and burnt down mosques toprotest a discriminatory act directed towards their communities,’ said Vijayanand Recchia. ‘In one instance, the police arrested an imam for burning down themosque where he used to preach. He had been the one to file a complaint withthe police.’ 

One of the accused was KhalidSaifi. Once, Saifi’s wife, Nargis, took her eldest son to a court hearing. Whenthe boy saw his father, he reached out to touch his father’s arm. But apoliceman violently pushed the boy away, citing security reasons. The son brokedown. Later, he told his mother, “How can I be a danger to my father?” 

Nargis thought, ‘Who is going toanswer this?’ 

But there is a streak ofsunlight and hope that penetrates this numbing darkness when the authors talkabout ‘a community in resistance’. They write about people who are in the samestruggle to uphold individual and human rights as well as democracy. 

And whenever the authors met thefamilies of political prisoners or former prisoners, there was a longdiscussion on the status of other prisoners and their families and their communities.Inadvertently, Vijayan and Recchia became ‘carriers of information in thiswider network of people, who may or may not have met before, but who are nowintimately connected by a shared destiny.’  

And the prisoners were gratefulfor the support. From prison, Fr. Swamy (1937-2021) wrote, ‘First of all, Ideeply appreciate the overwhelming solidarity expressed by many people duringthese past 100 days behind bars. At times, news of such solidarity has given meimmense strength and courage, especially when the only thing certain in prisonis uncertainty.’

In the last line of the missive,he said, ‘A caged bird can still sing.’ 

Once, when Sahba Husain went tomeet her jailed partner, human rights activist Gautam Navlakha, he quoted aline from Canadian singer Leonard Cohen: ‘There is a crack in everything.That’s how the light gets in.’   

One of the most moving chaptersis called ‘Small Things’. The authors had asked the families of prisoners andthe prisoners themselves to share objects that were meaningful to them abouttheir experience in jail. These photos are displayed in the book. 

For example, Fr FrazerMascarenhas, who was Fr. Swamy’s guardian and official next-of-kin, preservedthe hearing aid that was used by the late activist. There are paintings andphotographs. But the most touching was when Khalid Saifi’s daughter Maryam drewa card for her father, but the guards would not allow Khalid’s wife Nargis toshow it. So Maryam requested Nargis to draw it on her arm, and they took aphoto. 

In another section, there arepoignant letters written by the prisoners to family members, to jailsuperintendents, and friends. 

This is a heart-breaking book.Most people are not aware of how bad things become when the state moves againstyou when you show dissent. So the authors have to be commended for anextraordinary achievement. Publisher Westland, through the Context imprint,deserves plaudits for having the courage to publish it. 

Finally, the authors make atelling statement in the epilogue: ‘The Indian state, with its immense powerand vast resources, was scared of its writers, thinkers, scholars andactivists. Its prisoners stood tall, laughed and sang in the face ofunrelenting assaults.’ 

(Published in scroll.in)

The world of spiritual deities

Captions: The book cover; author K. Hari Kumar; a Kola dancer


Best-selling author K Hari Kumar has written an eye-opening and engaging book about the folk practises in Tulu Nadu, South India

By Shevlin Sebastian

K Harikumar received an invitation to take part in a podcast in Mumbai in 2022. It was a time when Hari, a Pune-based best-selling author, was at a low ebb. Hari’s instinctive reaction was to avoid taking part in the podcast. But he changed his mind.

During the podcast, the host probed his origins in Tulu Nadu. And he ended up talking about the tradition of spirit worship in that area. Tulu Nadu comprises the regions of Dakshina Kannada, Udupi (Karnataka) and Kasaragod (Kerala). In Indian mythology, this area is said to be part of the Parashurama Kshetra and is steeped in legends and folklore.

After the podcast, Hari went into a restaurant to have an idli and sambhar. To his surprise, a familiar visage greeted him from behind the cashier’s desk. It was a framed photograph of Kateel’s Durgaparameshwari. ‘This was no ordinary picture of any goddess. She was the presiding deity of the very place I had discussed in the podcast,’ wrote Hari.

He took this as an omen. Thereafter, Hari embarked on writing the book, ‘Daiva – Discovering the Extraordinary World of Spirit Worship’.

The 245-page book, released on May 13, has a blurb by bestselling author Amish Tripathi.

‘To read Daiva is to experience a world that few from modern urban India have access to. It is to immerse oneself in the realm of spirit worship, which comes to life through Hari’s tireless research and spellbinding wordcraft.’

Indeed, it is a unique book. Perhaps, for the first time in recent history, the book highlights the language and beliefs of the people of Tulu Nadu.

In the early part of the book, Hari delves in detail about the history, culture, language and the customs of these little-known people.

He states that daivas is a Sanskrit word, relating to gods, caused by or coming from gods, divine or celestial. ‘According to some scholars and experts, daivas are those spirits which have originated from divine sources or from prakriti (primordial creative source),’ wrote Hari.

In most Tulu households there is a room where the deities are revered. Sometimes, a large wooden plank hangs from the ceiling. This is used as a cot for the deities. In the village, there is a sthana, a small hut or concrete structure, where people gather for a communal prayer.

Hari asks a question: ‘What if, in the world we inhabit, there exists a realm beyond our limited perception — a domain where spirits of various kinds dwell? Here, one might encounter the daivas, the bhutas, the ganas, the maatrs, the grahas, minor supernatural entities, and even the restless pretas. The notion that these otherworld beings, both benevolent and malevolent, roam amongst us unseen is a deeply rooted belief. It is a belief that holds sway over the people of Tulu Nadu as well, a belief that is old as time itself.’

However, since the spirit is intangible, and beyond human perception, there is a belief that during the time of a kola dance, the spirit joins the physical body of the dancer, who falls into a trance, and communicates with the people.

As Hari met people and did research on the deities, many told him that the spirits send omens. He had an experience himself. Once when he was in his aunt Shashi’s house, a neighbour came and spoke about a powerful female deity called Thannimaaniga.

A group of people came seeking donations for an upcoming kola. Hari discovered that one of them was a ‘mukkaldi’, an officiator who held a special position in the kola ritual.

Hari asked about the daivas who were involved in the kola. To his surprise, the man mentioned the name of Thannimaaniga. Hari wrote, ‘Was that merely a coincidence or a sign from the spirits themselves? I wondered whether spirit deities might be omnipresent, like the people believed, silently observing and foreseeing every unfolding plan that eludes our awareness? Did their subtle messages manifest as omens?’

Hari writes in specific detail about the kola ritual: the importance of bananas, and the purification of the land, which includes tilling the soil, levelling the land and using cow dung. ‘Cow dung is a revered agent of purification in the region’s ancient customs,’ wrote Hari.

The sacred area where the dance is going to take place has natural decorations like mango leaf garlands, coconuts as well as tender leaves of coconuts. For luck, a bunch of bananas hang in front of the performance arena.

The dancer wears a skirt comprising the leaves of the coconut palm. He also wears a headdress called ani, and a face mask made of areca leaf sheaths.

During the preparation for the dance, the artist passionately strikes a steel plate against their head. This results in a deformation of the vessel. ‘I have felt a profound sense of energy in the atmosphere, stirring deep emotions,’ wrote Hari.

When the artist starts dancing, in rhythmic movements and accompanied by music, within a matter of time, he gets possessed. Soon, he experiences an altered state of consciousness and starts uttering words. ‘During this period, the spirit is believed to impart wisdom, resolving conflicts and providing answers to the questions posed by the assembled devotees,’ wrote Hari.

Once you get into the atmosphere of the book, each page is an eye-opener.

The second half of the book is about folk tales about the daivas and heroes from Tulu Nadu. The tales had been passed orally from generation to generation. So, it keeps changing or as Hari said, over time, these stories would naturally evolve and be adapted to suit the cultural, social and political contexts of the communities in which they were told.

Here is one tale:

There was a boar who was dark at night and a sow who was very fair. They sought the blessings of Subbaramanya, the lord of snakes. The Lord blessed them and said, “You may now become husband and wife.”

While they descended from the ghats, the sow became pregnant. By the time they arrived in the plains, the sow was seven months pregnant. She craved yams. The boar got it by destroying crops and gardens.

Eventually, the sow gave birth to a few piglets. One night, the couple wandered into the garden of Ishvara and wreaked havoc upon the flowers and the creepers.

A furious Ishvara asked, “Who committed this heinous act?”

The attendants searched all over the forest, saw the sleeping boar and sow and killed them. When Ishvara noticed the piglets, he asked them to bring them to him. Feeling pity, he gave it to Parvati and asked her to look after them. The childless Parvati nurtured them with great love and care.

But when these piglets grew up, owing to their innate nature, they ravaged Ishvara’s garden. Ishvara cursed them and was going to destroy them when a sorrowful Parvati begged her husband not to do so.

A mollified Ishvara said they would ascend to the spirit realm as Panjurli. And from there they can descend to earth, seeking tribute from the people who live there.

Hari’s skill as a storyteller is on full display in this section.

Overall, this is an important book. And on a subject that few people know about.

As an author, Hari has put in a lot of hard work. Over several months, he visited about 30 villages and towns in Tulu Nadu. Hari stayed for a few days in some places. He observed the rituals first-hand. He interacted with a host of people and meticulously took notes.

Hari also read a few books on the subject but did admit books in English were only about five. But he got important archival material from British civil servant AC Burnell, who was a scholar in Sanskrit and Dravidian languages. Burnell published a book on the Tulavas in 1879. He also read up on research papers on the subject in India and abroad. Thereafter, he sat down to write.

Little did he realise that after completing the first draft, he would rewrite it numerous times in order to satisfy himself. It has been a labour of love. After all, he was writing about his homeland. And readers have responded positively. The book has become a best-seller.

(Published in kitaab.org – Singapore)

Book Details:

Title: ‘Daiva’ – Discovering the Extraordinary World of Spirit Worship

Author: K Hari Kumar

Publisher: HarperCollins

Pages: 245

Price: Rs 399

A ‘Malayali’ beer becomes popular in Poland

 

Photos: Sargheve Sukumaran (left) with Chandramohan Nallur; Chandramohan with his wife Anna and with his family; happy clients A Warsaw-based Malayali Chandramohan Nallur has made a beer that has hit the jackpot. He will enter the Indian market next year. Chandramohan also talks about his love story By Shevlin Sebastian Chandramohan Nallur is director, business relations, at the Indo-Polish Chamber of Commerce and Industries at Warsaw, Poland. He sourced clients for Indian businesses. One client was a Nigerian business owner, Yusuf Jimoh, who ordered five tonnes of rice flakes. Following a message from Chandramohan, the Warsaw-based entrepreneur Shantanu Roy imported the rice flakes from Varanasi. Price: Rs. 8.5 lakh. This was four days before Russia invaded Ukraine on February 24, 2022. Because of the volatile movement of the exchange rate, Jimoh wanted to back out of the deal. Chandramohan allowed Jimoh to do so because he felt he could find another customer. But when he did not do so, Chandramohan came up with an idea. He would buy the rice flakes himself. Chandramohan went on the net to find out what he could do with the rice flakes. That was when he stumbled on the idea of making beer. Chandramohan asked his designer friend Sargheve Sukumaran whether he wanted to join the venture. Sukumaran agreed. The duo went to different breweries in Warsaw. They made a beer and provided it to local customers. “There was no ‘Wow’ factor in the beer,” said Chandramohan. “And there were no repeat orders.” Some customers complained the beer was too bitter. Others said the beer was flat. The production of all beers involves either malt or wheat. In their fourth version, they used the usual method but with one difference. They added rice flakes along with a reduced amount of malt. “This reduced the bitterness and added a bit of sweetness,” said Chandramohan. “It became super light. It was an accidental discovery.” Chandramohan had been using Polish hops. According to Wikipedia, hops are the hanging flowers of the Humulus lupulus plant. They are the driving source of bitterness, aroma, and flavour in all beers. After doing research, Chandramohan discovered that the best hops come from Slovakia while the best malt comes from Bavaria in Germany. So, he imported both. When Chandramohan thought about what name to give the beer, he decided on the name Malayali. “It was a crazy idea,” he said. As for the label, the duo realised that Kingfisher beer has a kingfisher on the bottle. Bira 91 has a monkey on the bottle. Since the beer was going to be called Malayali, they took the help of a design firm in Kochi to find out what Malayalis relate to. One was Kathakali and the other was the Mollywood superstar Mohanlal. They launched the beer on November 13, 2022. Initially, they used the Mohanlal and Kathakali images on the bottles. “The design gave the impression it was a craft beer and not a mass market one,” said Chandramohan. “So we changed the design.” Two months ago, they began using the alphabet called ‘Ma’ (Mother) in Malayalam. “It is on the lines of a Heineken beer,” said Chandramohan. The initial word of mouth in the Indian restaurants in Warsaw — ‘Mr. India’, ‘Namaste India’, ‘India Gate’ and ‘Coco Lounge’ (Polish) — was that this was a different beer. Arun Barot, owner of the Mr. India restaurant said that ‘Malayali’ is super light and easy to drink. “It doesn’t make you feel heavy,” he said. “With other Indian brands, especially when you have it with our food, burping is an issue. But that is not the case with ‘Malayali’. One reason why the beer is so good is because Chandramohan uses the best ingredients. Hence, the beer is of a very high quality. All my customers like it.” Now ‘Malayali’ is outselling ‘Kingfisher’ three to one in Warsaw, said Chandramohan. “We are the only Indian beer which is also sold outside of Indian restaurants,” said Chandramohan. One cause was that the Europeans did not know what the word Malayali meant. “For them, it is like ordering Heineken or Carlsberg,” said Chandramohan. “We are a hybrid beer. We sell in Mexican and Italian bars, too.” In the Coco Lounge, Malayali beer outsells Polish brands like Zuber and Tyskie. Now Chandramohan has plans to enter the diaspora market in Britain, America and the United Arab Emirates. In 2023, Chandramohan sold around 36,000 bottles from July to December. Each bottle contains 500 ml and retails at 3.75 Euros (Rs 342). In the first quarter of 2024, he has already sold 157000 bottles. “Because of this type of growth, I am looking for investors from India,” said Chandramohan. “In 2025, I want to enter the Indian market.” Early LifeChandramohan grew up in Palakkad, Kerala. He earned his B. Com degree from the Government Arts and Science College in Meenchanda, Kozhikode in 2007. Then Chandramohan decided to study abroad. He wanted to do so in Scotland. A friend of his was studying at the Robert Gordon University in Aberdeen. He went to an agency which sends students abroad for higher studies. While waiting to meet the staff, he saw a poster on the wall. It advertised a two-year degree course at the ESERP Digital Business and Law School in Barcelona. The fees were 1500 euros less than what he would have to pay to study in Scotland for a course. When he asked about the details, the agency said they had just connected with the school and had not sent anybody yet. Chandramohan decided to go to Barcelona. “It was a random hunch,” he said. After he successfully completed the course in political science and marketing, Chandramohan got a job in O’Hara’s Irish bar and restaurant at Barcelona. He worked there for three years. Then he joined a company called LycaMobile, the world’s largest network operator. Chandramohan joined as a salesperson and began his climb up the corporate ladder. He travelled to Portugal, Germany, Italy, the USA and other countries. He ended up becoming the Director, Global Operations in 2012. In that year, he came to Warsaw to launch LycaMobile. Earlier, in Barcelona, Chandramohan met a Polish girl by the name of Anna Lachmaniuk. She was a student and had come to O’Hara’s with her CV, looking for a job. They went on dates after that. And love blossomed between the two. At Warsaw, Chandramohan continued to date Anna, a doctor for autistic and Down’s Syndrome children. Chandramohan took her to Kerala in 2010 so that his parents could meet Anna. They got married on August 17, 2013. The couple has two children, nine-year-old Maya, and four-year-old Julia. Asked about his connections to the Chamber, Chandramohan said that it happened through a nomination process. Because of his background, he got into business relations. The chamber wanted to concentrate on business in South India. “Many South Indian companies approach us because they want to do business in Europe,” he said. Chandramohan, on the other hand, wants to do business in India. Expect to see a lot of ‘Malayalis’ across the country in the near future. (An edited version was published in The Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

Snapshots of a genius

 

Captions: The book cover; Director K. Balachander (centre) with Kamal Haasan (left) and Rajnikanth; Producer LV Prasad (1908-1994); Author K Hariharan 
Author K. Hariharan gives an insightful look at the magnificent career of Tamil superstar Kamal Haasan By Shevlin Sebastian After almost 25 years of marriage to D. Srinivasan, Rajalakshmi became pregnant. She already had two sons and a daughter. The eldest boy was 23. Srinivasan, a Brahmin lawyer and freedom fighter, was worried. His wife was a diabetic. She was also overweight and had shortness of breath. When the time came, the family rushed Rajalakshmi to a local hospital. This was in the town of Paramakudi (506 kms from Chennai). The doctor looked at her and said that a normal delivery would not be possible. Even so, Rajalakshmi went into labour. After several hours, she gave birth to a chubby baby. The doctor told Rajalakshmi’s eight-year-old daughter Nalini to keep an eye on the baby. Then he rushed Rajalakshmi for an emergency post-delivery surgical procedure. It was in such dramatic circumstances that Kamal Haasan, the future film superstar, was born. The year was 1954. While he was a child, a helper tasked with looking after him would take him to an old thatched cinema talkie. Kamal watched many of MG Ramachandran and Sivaji Ganesan’s movies. When he returned home, he would quote all the dialogues and mimic the acting. Thus, his love for acting was born. Serendipity played a role for Kamal to get his first acting role. His mother took the six-year-old Kamal to consult with Dr Sarah Ramachandran. She immediately saw something in him. The doctor told Rajalakshmi that Kamal should do a screen test with another patient of hers. He was the renowned producer AV Meiyappan. When Meiyappan saw Kamal, he was impressed. He immediately cast Kamal as the main child artiste in his film, ‘Kalathur Kannamma’. Kamal said, “I truly consider myself fortunate that a stalwart like AV Meiyappan turned the spotlight on me.” The film became an enormous success. Kamal won the National Award For Best Child Actor. This was presented to him by President S Radhakrishnan. K. Hariharan recounts all this in vivid detail in his book, ‘Kamal Haasan — A Cinematic Journey’. The Chennai-based Hariharan is a national film award winner who has made nine feature films and over 350 short and documentary films. He is also a film academician. Hariharan traces Kamal’s film career from the beginning. He talks about his fruitful partnership with director K. Balachander. They did 26 films together. And it all began with ‘Arangetram’ (1973), in which the 17-year-old Kamal played a villain. In ‘Moondru Mudichu’ (‘Three Knots of a Wedding’-1976) Balachander used sound effects to replace the spoken word. So when Kamal and Sridevi met for the first time in a clock shop, they were interrupted by the incessant chiming of the clocks. The next time, they communicated by hitting clothes on a wet stone. Kamal said, “At another instance, I played a melody on the mouth organ for her. Rajini (Rajnikanth) watched this with the sound of a hand pump in the background. What a way to define characters!” Much later, Balachander said, “In our first few films, I can take the credit for propelling Kamal to become a genuine artist. But for the rest, I cruised on his success.”Right from the beginning of his career, Kamal received mass appreciation. So much so that he acted in 150 films between 1972 and 1987. By the time he acted in Bharathiraja’s debut film, ‘16 Vayathinile’ (1977), Kamal was the most prominent actor. So, he received Rs 27,000, while Rajnikanth got Rs 3000. The shooting took place in a remote village. The actors stayed in a small government guest house. While Kamal slept in the bedroom, Rajnikanth and Bharathiraja spent the night on the verandah. Such are the struggles from which film icons like Rajnikanth rose. For each film that Hariharan describes, he gives the socio-political, religious, and cultural background of that time. He also analyses the themes, plots, the camera angles and reasons behind why a scene was shot in a particular way. Many of Hariharan’s observations were insightful.Here’s one: Hariharan said that early Tamil cinema was engaged in a battle to counter the hegemony of Hindi cinema and its so-called nationalistic politics. ‘Until 1975, it was intrinsically bound with the vernacular Dravidian movement to unsettle the pseudo-nationalist vision of Nehruvian dynastic politics,’ he wrote. Entry into BollywoodKamal’s first foray into Bollywood was with ‘Ek Duuje Ke Liye’ (EDKL, 1981). The legendary LV Prasad produced it. Despite an initially lacklustre response by Mumbai film distributors, EDDL became an all-India hit. Little did Kamal know then that the Laxmikant-Pyarelal song, ‘Tere mere beech mein, kaisa ye bandhan anjana’, would become the romantic anthem for youngsters all over India for the next few years. Kamal also did not know that his success would open the doors in Bollywood for singers like KJ Yesudas, KS Chithra, and the legendary music composer AR Rahman. In reverse, Lata, Mangeshkar, Asha Bhosle and Udit Narayan sang Tamil and Telugu songs. When EKDL reached 50 weeks, Kamal flew to Mumbai for a celebratory function at Novelty Theatre.At the theatre, LV Prasad told Kamal, “The floor is spanking and clean, isn’t it?” “Yes, it is clean, but what is so special about that?” said Kamal. Prasad told Kamal that when he was 26 years old, the same age as Kamal in EDKL, he used to be an usher in the same theatre. “Between screenings, I had to mop this floor clean every day. I am happy such traditions are still being followed by the workers here,” said Prasad.It was a lesson in humility that Kamal never forgot. ‘Lost and Found’ One film which Hariharan focused on was the superhit, ‘Michael Madana Kamal Rajan’ (MMKR-1990). It was a comedy film made by the director Singeetam Srinivasa Rao. The film tells the story of a woman having quadruplets. They get kidnapped at birth and grow up in different places. Later, after many twists and turns, they reunite with their mother. Hariharan writes that this theme of ‘lost and found’ children in MMKR is a continuation of films made on this theme in the 1950s and 60s in many languages, including Hindi. He mentions Raj Kapoor’s ‘Awaara’ (1951) and ‘Amar Akbar Antony’ (1977). ‘On introspection, one realises they are all resonating with a part of Indian history which most filmmakers and other artists were unwilling to directly talk about: the great Indian Partition of 1947,’ writes Hariharan. ‘Millions died and thousands of families fled across the borders, leaving their loved ones behind and or losing them somewhere in their journeys. More impactful than the loss of lives was the loss of one’s identity.’ Some of the other films that Hariharan wrote about include ‘Raja Paarvai’, ‘Nayakan’, ‘Pushpak’, ‘Sathya’, ‘Gunaa’, ‘Thevar Magan’, ‘Indian’ and ‘Anbe Sivam’. The impact of stardom Being a superstar for decades, many fans are crazy about Kamal. In the book, Kamal said, “I was once going back in a car after finishing the day’s shooting. A big crowd had assembled to watch us at the location and suddenly one young boy ran alongside the car with a blade in his right hand, slitting his left wrist, and shouting out my name like a possessed person. I was shocked, even angry, at this insane act of fandom. I stopped the car and rebuked him never to do such an act again.” For the ardent Kamal fan, this is a not-to-be-missed book. For those who don’t know much about Kamal’s Tamil film oeuvre, this is a beautiful way to understand it. Since many of the films, especially the early ones, are available on YouTube, you can watch them. And then read the commentary of the film by Hariharan. This will deepen your understanding. Kamal has defied time, and the massive changes in cinema and society, and remained relevant. His career has lasted a mind-boggling 63 years. And the journey continues. ‘Kalki 2898 AD’ was released on June 27, while ‘Indian 2’ hit the screens on July 12. There is no doubt he is a genius. And, like Bharat Ratna Lata Mangeshkar, Kamal Haasan is also a national treasure.(Published in The Sunday Magazine, The Hindustan Times, New Delhi and other editions)
Book DetailsTitle: Kamal Haasan – A Cinematic Journey Author: K. Hariharan Publisher: HarperCollins PublishersPages: 259Price: Rs 699

An unforgettable moment for Ramachandra

  Photos: Ramachandra Pulavar; Moscow in winter

By Shevlin Sebastian

In November 1979, a six-member team of Tholpavakoothu artists travelled to Moscow.

They included Ramachandra Pulavar and his father, K.L. Krishnan Kutty. They were going to take part in the art festival at the Tashkent International Trade Fair. “This is the first time we were travelling abroad,” said Ramachandra. 

Artists from 56 nations had arrived to perform at the fair.  

After their performance, the team flew to Moscow (3393 kms away). From there, they were supposed to take a flight to Delhi. 

The Indian delegation leader was G. Venu, a Koodiyattam master. He was the only one who could speak English. They arrived at the Sheremetyevo airport and discovered that two seats were wait-listed. The two who stayed behind were the youngsters, Ramachandra and Ramaswamy. 

“It was freezing,” said Ramachandra. “We could see ice on the streets. At dawn, loaders had to sweep the ice away using a plough so that the roads could be usable. We had thin coats. We did not know Moscow would be so cold.” 

In the end, a lady member of the festival organising committee took the pair to a posh hotel. “Since it was non-vegetarian food, we ate a lot of fruits,” said Ramachandra. They enjoyed their stay. November 7 was October Revolution Day. They could observe the ceremonies on the street. 

Because of a lack of telephonic contact, the team in Delhi was unaware of the whereabouts of the two youths. Neither was any information passed from Moscow to Delhi. 

Venu and Ramachandra’s father would come every day to the Palam Airport. They would wait to see the passengers of the flight from Moscow. Because of the tension about the fate of the youths, Venu’s hair turned white. In November 1979, a six-member team of Tholpavakoothu artists travelled to Moscow.

They included Ramachandra Pulavar and his father, K.L. Krishnan Kutty. They were going to take part in the art festival at the Tashkent International Trade Fair. “This is the first time we were travelling abroad,” said Ramachandra. 

Artists from 56 nations had arrived to perform at the fair.  

After their performance, the team flew to Moscow, 3393 kms away. From there, they were supposed to take a flight to Delhi. 

The Indian delegation leader was G. Venu, a Koodiyattam master. He was the only one who knew how to speak English. They arrived at the Sheremetyevo airport and discovered that two seats were wait-listed. The two who stayed behind were the youngsters, Ramachandra and Ramaswamy. 

“It was freezing,” said Ramachandra. “We could see ice on the streets. At dawn, lorries had to sweep the ice away through a particular machine so that the roads could be usable. We had skinny coats. We did not know Moscow would be so cold.” 

In the end, a lady member of the festival organising committee took the pair to a posh hotel. “Since it was non-vegetarian food, we ate a lot of fruits,” said Ramachandra. They enjoyed their stay. November 7 was October Revolution Day. They could observe the ceremonies. 

Because of a lack of telephonic contact, the team was unaware of the whereabouts of the two youths. Neither was this information passed from Moscow to Delhi. 

Venu and Ramachandra’s father would come every day to the Palam Airport. They would wait to see the passengers who came from the flight from Moscow. Because of the tension about the fate of the youths, Venu’s hair turned white. 

The group sighed in relief when the youths finally arrived on the seventh day. “This was an unforgettable experience for me,” said Ramachandra. 

Even now, whenever Venu meets Ramachandra, he will say, with a smile, “Because of you, my hair turned white.”