Beastly Beauties

 

Beauty and youth eternal is everything. Even in a world ravaged by war, famine, poverty, global warming, pollution, substance abuse, human trafficking and dead babies. Good looks command attention and reverence. Talent, merit, a great personality and the rest of it is important of course, but these things are recognized and marketable mostly if they come in a glossy package which looks good enough to eat. This is hardly an evil exclusive to the present age. We have always been a superficial lot, fixated on frills, but have become less apologetic and discreet about our shallow ways.

You know it is the ugly truth because the tech billionaires are spending their ill - begotten squillions on longevity and looking good ad infinitum. Of course, according to their PR people, the intention is noble and uplifting with an altruistic vision to eliminate disease and improve quality of life for the ancient as well as those who merely look like they don’t spend their nights in hyperbaric chambers while availing the benefits of vampire facials and blood transfusions from baby rodents. After all, nobody deserves to suffer through the horrors of aging such as wattle necks, warts, wrinkles, balding, liver spots, menopause, greying, aching joints, recalcitrant bowels, cognitive decline and the tendency of society to ignore their senior citizens as well as the unfortunate looking or the obese and condemn them to enforced loneliness, irrelevance and not so surreptitious scorn.

The second most powerful lobby in the world – the influencers reinforce this notion by urging people to be the best looking version of themselves and keep squawking about bio – hacking, supplements, fitness routines, cell rejuvenation, and ‘legit’ beauty products that guarantee a more photographic version of you on the morrow provided you are willing to make the investment today and buy truckloads of fat – free collagen and hyaluronic acid with glutathione pudding available in chocolate, passion fruit, and orange blossom flavours. Their feeds feature ads urging women, men, and children to try botox, dermal fillers, laser skin resurfacing, blepharoplasties, Ozempic, packets of powdered puppies, assorted aids and implements from a serial killer’s basement which the willingly gullible gobble up in the vain hope of looking as ethereal as Aditi Rao Hydari, exquisitely emaciated as Ariana Grande and age – defying as Malaika Arora.

A lot of people are buying into the fallacious argument that if you look effortlessly good, skinny and exude an enviable ‘glow’ you will definitely be treated better and might even make a fortune, meet and keep the love of your life and truly enjoy all that glitters. Most are willing to go to extreme lengths, expend time, money and resources they can scare afford to look luminous and just wow all the damn time! While a vast majority of cosmetic procedures are performed on women, men are catching up too, both risking invasive and painful surgery that may have damaging, and long-term physical and psychological implications. What emerges is not a pretty picture revealing how we have allowed our insecurities and inanities to get the better of us and degenerated into beastly beings who care only about how strangers view us through filters and refuse to work on how we feel about ourselves or forge real connections that translate into joyful, meaningful ways to experience life with loved ones.

An edited version of this column was originally published in TNIE Magazine.

Trunk Calls from Trigarta

 

The War Elephants of Trigarta by Sarita Mandanna, is part of the Bold Chronicles series which seeks to awaken a love of history and stories in gen next. Inspired by fascinating moments in India’s rich, varied and layered past as well as world history, the idea seems to be to use turbocharged storytelling skills to capture the attention of youngsters addicted to their gadgets and attendant unwillingness to engage with anything that is not a reel or an app. Despite it being an uphill task, Mandanna pulls it off with dexterity and humour to spare, providing a sumptuous treat which will serve to sow the seeds of interest in a glorious past while also offering insights towards navigating the treacherous present.

At the heart of the story is the delightful Mili, daughter of Raja Puru’s general charged with the training and upkeep of the war elephants that are the pride and joy of Trigarta. Having formed a bond with a rare white elephant, she names Nathu, Mili will go on to become an unlikely key player in the looming war spearheaded by that most unconquerable of foes, Alexander the Great, in the legendary Battle of Hydaspes. After all, as the general likes to say often with his daughter echoing the words as frequently, “Never too old, and never too young!”

Fragrant and flavourful with delicious nuggets from history and mythology, the reader is left sobered and entranced with the fate that overcame beautiful Parsa or modern day Persepolis,  a beloved anecdote about how Alexander managed to tame the feral steed – Bucephalus that would go on to become his beloved brother – in – arms, and Supratika as well as Sangram, the elephant heroes from mythology and history among others. Unlike the aforementioned pachyderms, Nathu is notoriously difficult to train and is the bane of his trainer and even the general cannot refrain from calling him a “donkey of a stubborn elephant” much to Mili’s chagrin. There is an uproariously hilarious incident featuring Nathu, a basket load of turnips consumed without permission and a protracted bout of flatulence at the most inopportune of moments. At its culmination, Mili asks the all – important question to her father, “The royal family. Do they fart – I mean, do they pass wind too?’

Given the subject matter and Alexander’s proclivity for raw savagery when thwarted even slightly, it is not all about levity, lullabies crooned to curmudgeonly creatures and the cutesy bond formed between humans and animals. Mandanna does a fine job of presenting the chaotic events from history in a youth – friendly manner without losing any of the gravitas in the narration of dark deeds that were passed off as great ones. As news of Alexander sacking yet another rebel city or hideout trickles back to Trigarta, Mili persistently asks her father, “What happened to the children in the mercenary camp, Baba?”

The danger and horrors of war are painfully real for Mili and her loved ones with Macedonia’s finest on the rampage, but her bravery is no less than those of the mighty stalwarts history remembers as she uses her own wits and resilience to make a tangible difference in a world torn apart by war and greed. This is an irresistible tale that will be gobbled up with gusto not just by younger readers but by anyone who can’t resist a ripping good yarn.

An edited version of this book review originally appeared in TNIE Magazine.

The Rajput Jewel in Akbar's Crown

 

Rima Hooja’s The Emperor’s General: The Life and Times of Raja Man Singh of Amber is a carefully sketched portrait of an extraordinary statesman. Writing about towering personas who shaped the course of history without deifying or caricaturing them is a tricky business, but the author manages this balancing feat. Born into a Rajput ruling family, the Kachhwahas of the Dhoondhar kingdom with their capital, Amber in present-day Rajasthan, Man Singh would become one of the most important players in 16^th century India. Counted among the nine jewels of Akbar’s court, he would go on to win fame in battle, establish himself as a capable administrator, demonstrate uncanny political acumen, build temples, mosques, forts, palaces, and cities, patronise art, literature and leave behind a shining legacy.

Hooja skilfully guides the reader across the terrain of Man Singh’s life and times, adroitly providing the historical and complex geo – political context of a bygone age, so that scholars as well as laymen can enjoy the journey. An alliance with Akbar, forged by Man Singh’s grandfather – Raja Bharmal who gave his daughter, incorrectly (according to the author) known as Jodha Bai in marriage to the emperor propelled this branch of the Kachhwahas to prominence in the imperial court. Over the next few generations, the alliance proved mutually beneficial - “Kachhwaha martial prowess, administrative skill and loyalty served the Mughal Empire well, just as the recognition, high honours, territorial stability and economic prosperity that followed sustained the kingdom of Amber.”

Man Singh grew to manhood, assimilating the best of two worlds embodying both his native Rajput culture as well as the influences of the Mughal court. While shedding light on evidence supporting Akbar’s tolerant approach towards other religions, stating unequivocally, that he “…respected the religious beliefs and sentiments of all communities, particularly those of his Rajput allies and vassals”, Hooja does not romanticise the emperor or shy away from depicting the harsh realities of the heavy toll exacted in exchange for building and keeping an empire together. This is particularly true of her narration of the events leading up to the battle of Haldighati and beyond which entwined the lives of Akbar, Maharana Pratap of Mewar and the emperor’s commander Prince Man Singh.

As the grandson of Rana Sangha who had defied Babur, Akbar’s grandfather, Maharana Pratap emerged as a fierce and resilient symbol of Rajput resistance. Chittoor, the ancient capital of Mewar had fallen during the reign of Udai Singh, Pratap’s father, who following the advice of his nobles entrusted its defence to a garrison led by Jaimal and then, Patta who fought valiantly to their last breath. Akbar ordered the erection of two memorials in memory of these two valiant heroes but was less generous when it came to the survivors. “The fall was followed by a massacre of some 30,000 surviving non – combatants – many of them peasants from surrounding villages who had sought refuge within the fort. The slaughter remains an indelible stain on Akbar’s reign.”

Following the undecisive battle of Haldighati, Man Singh’s loyalty to Akbar was called into question as he had given the order not to pursue the Maharana or the troops but the emperor himself continued to use him in other parts of his empire having chastised him by debarring Man Singh from presenting himself at court. As for Pratap, he continued his guerrilla warfare resistance as well as employed a scorched earth policy, imposing the death penalty on those who cultivated their fields to remain a thorn in the side of the Mughals till his passing. One can’t help but feel sympathetic towards his followers who must have sacrificed much and more in the cause of their hero in contrast to Man Singh’s subjects who prospered thanks to their ruler’s pragmatism.

Man Singh served Akbar loyally in military as well as administrative matters in Punjab, Kabul, Bihar and Bengal till the emperor breathed his last. Jahangir was less trusting of him owing to the general throwing his support behind a rival claimant for the throne but there appears to have been no lasting ill will towards the veteran, who continued to serve the Mughals to the end of his life. Hooja’s book would have pleased him!

An edited version of this book review originally appeared in TNIE magazine.

Toil and Trouble: Boil Girls in a Hell-Broth

 

When the Ayatollah Ali Khamenei was killed in a joint American – Israeli military operation, a lot of people all over the world cheered the fall of a tyrant. Trump, squatting on a precarious perch of self – righteousness, with characteristic lack of delicacy commended himself for taking out ‘one of the most evil men in history’. Naturally, he left out the part about how as part of the massive strikes directed at about 24 Iranian provinces, the Shajareh Tayyebeh girls’ elementary school in Minab was bombed and over a hundred innocent children were casually killed and written off as collateral damage. Ironically, it was while seeking to free the country from theocratical tyranny which decreed Iranian women could face the death penalty for daring to break chastity and hijab laws, that Iranian girls were senselessly annihilated. In the killing games, overgrown boys play, it is always the girls who are usually the convenient casualties.

In India, the response as always was mixed – people celebrated, criticized or shrugged off the fall of a radical Islamic cleric. Hardly anyone seemed particularly concerned about the little girls. Which is hardly surprising, because in India, shortly after the fall of the Supreme leader of Iran, another little girl was killed when she fell through the rotting floor of a school bus and landed under the rear wheel. There was a smattering of outrage, but it was drowned in the deluge of voices debating whether the excessive gold jewellery sported by newly wedded celeb couple – Vijay Deverakonda and Rashmika Mandanna looked aristocratic or atrocious.

Unfortunately, death is not always the worst of it. Girls who are not killed over routine dowry harassment, suspicions of infidelity or unreciprocated love are subjected to a more excruciating form of slow and painful leaching of the spirit and soul. Surprisingly, it does not necessarily involve rape, sex slavery or severe abuse. It is simply a persistent denial of basic rights. Girls in every part of the world are still expected to dress and conduct themselves in ways that are convenient and in keeping with the requirements of the supposedly superior sex. A good education still remains elusive for most women who do not have rich and/or progressive daddies. Even the lucky ones among the so – called fairer sex who are educated are expected to marry quickly so that the financial burden falls on the spouse and spares the parents. Too many are routinely denied their inheritance and expected to survive on the scraps that come their way at the discretion of those they find themselves dependent on.

Ambition is considered to be an ugly shade on women. Those who aspire towards a career need to be cut down to size for their own good. Women who leave the safety of home and hearth to work do so at their own peril. Even if they do bring in the big bucks, the pay cheques should be dutifully handed over to husbands or in – laws as is only right and proper. An unhealthy preoccupation with making money indicates a proclivity for prostitution. Which is why girls are taught to do only as they are told. Especially if it makes no sense. All else is bound to get them killed. If they are lucky. Nari Shakti be damned!

This column was originally published in TNIE Magazine.

VACCINE NATION: A TERRIFIC TRUE STORY OF TRIUMPH AND TRAGEDY

 

The development of vaccines has proved to be revolutionary and transformed our approach to eradicating life – threatening diseases and enhancing human health. In Vaccine Nation: How Immunization Shaped India, Ameer Shahul chronicles the highly underappreciated story of how India emerged as a global vaccine powerhouse, one of the largest producers of high-quality, cost -effective vaccines, supplying effective immunizations to over a hundred countries and blazing fresh trails innovation wise  from having languished on the sidelines during the colonial era, held back by British apathy and a non – existent infrastructure for healthcare.   

Shahul offers a meticulous and sweeping account of India’s immunization journey. The story has its genesis during the early twentieth century when the British established vaccine institutions in cool hill stations, designed to serve the colonial officers rather than the colonized masses, indicative of a civilizational gulf exacerbated by racism, poverty and illiteracy. Though the seeds had been sown albeit reluctantly, Independent India had little to go on, emerging bruised and battered after centuries of oppression and the fresh wounds inflicted by a bloody partition, guided solely by a vision for self – reliance.

With a sound grasp on the science, Shahul is also a compelling storyteller drawing up colourful portraits of giants in the field like Waldemar Haffkine, Sahib Singh Sokhey, Shanti Swarup Bhatnagar, John Jacob, Gursaran Talwar, Varaprasad Reddy, Cyrus Poonawala among others and peppering the narrative with anecdotes like how if a carefully held secret about Muhammad Ali Jinnah’s health had been spilled, the partition might have been prevented. His account of the development and production of the 1957 influenza vaccine in less than four months which remains a record and triumph in India is particularly thrilling.

Even more interesting is his narration of the desi David vs Goliath true story when Varaprasad and his Shantha team inspired by the likes of Salk and Sabin (who had refused to patent their groundbreaking techniques in the fight against polio) had the audacity to launch Shanvac – B, an effective hepatitis B vaccine at about $1 and despite dire predictions, managed healthy profits, forcing market prices to drop dramatically, a slap in the face of greedy big pharma. According to the author, “Shantha had held a mirror to the true face of foreign vaccine companies operating in India. Indian health administers and regulators were stunned to discover that a company claiming to ‘exist to save lives’ had been selling a life – saving vaccine at 150 times its cost!”

While generously celebrating the success stories and unlikely heroes in this epic tale of vaccination, Shahul does not shy away from harsh criticism of those within and without the system who contributed to corruption and profiteering which led to human rights violations and rampant breaches in medical ethics where innovation was undermined by exploitation. Pulling no punches, the author outlines the sordid saga of the excesses of the Patali Makkal Katchi (PMK) leader, Ramadoss when he was allocated the Health Ministry after the 2004 elections as part of the United Progressive Alliance (UPA). Undoing decades of good work with unsavoury manoeuvring, the Health Ministry unjustly suspended the licenses of three reputed government – supported vaccine makers for personal gain leading to a largely preventable and manmade vaccine catastrophe and shortage, aggravated to unthinkable levels directly leading to the unaccounted deaths of too many infants. Despite mounting pressure and censure, the key players were not brought to justice. The fallout was near nuclear: “The vaccine sector had by now morphed into a theatre of political influence, with pharma giants currying favour with their political benefactors through opaque instruments like electoral bonds.”

Narrating India’s successes and setbacks during the Covid pandemic, he makes it clear that vaccine equity remains a dream especially since the wealthy nations in the West are unwilling to help out or share technological knowhow and in India itself an alarming trend has emerged where science is being twisted to fit ideological narratives and political optics. In conclusion, Shahul urges, “Let India not just remain the vaccine capital of the world but also become its conscience – advancing science not merely for prestige, but for purpose.” The nation and its citizens would do well to pay heed to this gem of a book.

This book review was originally published in TNIE Magazine.

The Right State of Mind for Manifestation and More

 January is that time of the year, when many insist on cloaking everything with a patina of putrid positivity. Most resolve to work on their ‘negativity’, resolute in their conviction that all the real troubles in the world are merely the offspring of the wrong mental attitude and simply correcting this faulty state of mind would lead to the manifestation of all things worth having such as private jets, super yachts, routine trips to Mars, de-aging chambers, optimal health preservation pods, and a flat stomach. A brittle commitment to looking only at the bright side of things and generating good vibes only is bound to boomerang on the determinedly buoyant when reality bites. And it always does, stripping away the veneer of pretend good cheer to reveal the simmering anxiety, nastiness, and hopelessness within.

On the other side of the rainbow bridge, the cynical and the curmudgeonly among us steadfastly insist on seeing reality for what it really is. And paying attention to painfully unpalatable facts and inconvenient truths. Not everyone brought in the New Year holidaying in exotic locales, enjoying immersive Yoga retreats, bespoke experiences and resolving to think positive. Most were too busy dealing with the beastly business of living. It entails trying to understand why we are all embroiled in pointless culture wars of astounding levels of stupidity when real wars are being fought. While we argued pointlessly over the merits of Dhurandhar vs Ikkis with unnecessary fervour, a baby in Bhagirathpura, Indore died because the poor mite was fed packaged milk mixed with tap water. Unsurprisingly it was revealed that the municipal water supply was contaminated with sewage. Even less surprisingly, it seems highly unlikely that heads will roll over such criminal levels of institutional negligence. After all, trivialising the suffering of others is something we all specialize in. It is simpler to deflect responsibility and shrug off tragedy as the inevitable outcome of extreme poverty and ignorance without ever bothering to address pressing issues in a meaningful way.

Besides nobody has time for micro issues when the Earth is overheating and Indians (not just Delhiites) no longer have the luxury of drawing in a lung full of clean air. It is a public health emergency the government as well as the citizens of this great nation refuse to deal with because it would require cleaning up our act literally and metaphorically. Nobody can be bothered with that sort of thing of course. These things are every bit as tedious to focus on as collapsing ropeways and roads that were newly built at the taxpayer’s expense. It makes more sense to grouse in vain, look the other way and hope that pranayama and air filters will do the trick to help us muddle along in the muck the way we always have. Needless to say, negative noodleheads don’t help much either.

Peddlers of positivity as well as sellers of cynicism have one thing in common. They are equally inept at making a difference. Which is why the year ahead as well as the ones after are unlikely to be an improvement on the ones before. Better or bitter, we have no choice but to plod on and make the best of it, without being insufferably perky or pissy about our prospects. Belated new year wishes folks! 

This column was originally published in TNIE Magazine