Ageing is not Failing

 

Why are so many older women hateful to the younger ones feeding into the general assumption that women of a certain vintage are crone – like with a marked aptitude for being wicked, witchy and worse? In the age of fairy and fable, the evil older stepmother/witch/Queen from Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and Snow White plotted desperately to get rid of their younger, more beautiful rivals and went up in a puff of smoke or croaked miserably after their dastardly schemes were foiled. In India, every single mega serial features a mother-in-law who is irredeemably evil and commits herself towards making life miserable for her winsome daughter-in-law. All these characters are uniformly filled with hatred and consumed with envy because their youth is gone for good.

As if often the case, the myth creates the reality, begging the question…How is it that we have bought into the manufactured myth that ageing naturally is a crime or a disease and it is the woman’s fault for allowing it to happen? Let’s face it, women are routinely villainised if they dare to show up anywhere without looking unrealistically youthful and picture perfect having signed a demonic pact with a plastic surgeon or been liposuctioned to near nothingness. Of course, the netizens also delight in trolling the ethereal types like Aditi Rao Hydari, Samantha, Jahnvi Kapoor by digging up before and after pics and endlessly discussing who got botox, fillers, rhinoplasty, lip enhancements, etc. done. Not only is a woman expected to never age or gain so much as a kilo, but she is supposed to make it all seem effortless.

Every time, one opens Instagram for a bit of doom-scrolling, tons of fitness influencers and wellness gurus bombard the feed with instructions to reverse ageing “naturally”, and get rid of the neck hump, puffy face, dark circles, crow’s feet, wrinkles, and unsightly flab with a plethora of home remedies and yoga infused with tai-chi moves. Of course, if you resist their blandishments and don’t have the funds for cosmetic surgery, the threat of being driven into irrelevance in the personal or professional spaces looms. If the ever regal and gorgeous Aishwarya Rai was sneered at for “waddling” on the red carpet and condemned for daring to embrace her curves having failed to do yoga and pilates with the fanatical devotion of Shilpa Shetty what can mere mortals expect?

We are told that nobody wants to “do” or have anything to do with an ageing woman, so it is best if hideous hags disappeared into the darkness. But women are being robbed of their best years when hard earned strength, character and killer confidence more than make up for the lack of a waistline or youthful radiance. If we were truly evolved surely, we could value older women for their experience and battle scars and encourage them to share their lessons instead of constantly being cruel, prompting them to be cruel in turn. As for older women, it is best to give in to the natural urge to not give a rat’s hairy behind to those who simp for superficial primping and be smart enough to be better not bitter.  

This column was originally published in TNIE Magazine.

TRACKING the TRIUMPHS AND TRAVAILS of VIJAY

 

When Vijay made his entry into Tamil cinema as a leading man in Naalaiya Theerpu (1992), directed by his father S.A. Chandrasekhar not many could have predicted that he would be a consistently successful superstar. My mother was the exception. She had seen him on TV when Vijay was a child actor, breaking down when asked about his deceased sister, Vidhya. Ever since, she has been a well – wisher who predicted that the grieving boy would be a star, celebrating his rise to the very top of the Tamil film industry, gradually overtaking giants like Rajinikanth and Kamal Haasan while enjoying a healthy rivalry with Ajith Kumar. An early indicator of the love and goodwill Vijay would generate.

He wasn’t handsome in the classical sense. Nor charismatic though he showed potential. There was an earnestness to him which hinted at genuine appeal. But his first film flopped and he was mostly dismissed. Vijay’s grit became apparent as he kept releasing films. They were not great but qualified as time-pass entertainment. Usually they featured foot-tapping songs and his dance moves came to be appreciated. There would be passable comedy tracks, the pedestrian quota of fights, glam heroines, and evil villains who were the Goliath to his Samson. By then, it was clear that he had staying power.

Vijay’s Poove Unakkaga (1996), directed by Vikraman was a turning point. It saw him in experimental mode as he attempted to make a family entertainer which was significantly different from the front – bencher fare he had been serving up. A rare Vijay film where he doesn't get the girl but helps her unite with her lover instead and repair the rift between their warring fmailies. The win saw him make more ‘different’ films like Kadhalukku Mariyadhai (1997) directed by Fazil where the lead pair like Shah Rukh and Kajol from DDLJ refused to marry without securing the approval of their controlling families.

By then, the curly – haired youngster had established himself a bankable star with films like Once More, Thullatha Manamum Thullum, and Kushi. He wasn’t considered the greatest of actors, but no one could deny that he could own a frame, deliver punch dialogues and land blows with the requisite swagger, charm his heroines in a teasing manner and dance the hell out of a pounding beat. Vijay could also carry a tune though he was unlikely to make S.P. Balasubrahmanyam insecure. It helped that he was constantly adapting and working on himself. His sartorial savvy had improved considerably, and his lean and mean physique was making him something of a heartthrob.

Vijay was still experimenting and tried out roles with shades of grey in films like Priyamudan, where his character is nothing short of an obsessive stalker and Priyamanavale, where the protagonist likes to try on a wife for size in exchange for money. His efforts were modestly successful. And then Ghilli (2004) happened. A remake of the Telugu blockbuster Okaddu, it would establish Vijay as a box office behemoth. There was no looking back after that. Great success and challenges awaited Thalapathy (commander) as he came to be known by his legion of increasingly rabid fans.

Now that Vijay had cracked the alchemical code for delivering box office gold consistently, he made himself some powerful enemies. Jana Nayagan, his final film, crashed into a wall of political pressure and is yet to be released. But this is not the first time, Vijay has had to deal with this. Thalaiva (2013) with the tagline, “Time to Lead” was apparently viewed as a direct threat by then chief minister, Jayalalithaa lovingly called Thalaivi. Forced to make several concessions, including the removal of the tagline, the film was released after a considerable delay which derailed its chances of success. A little down the road, Mersal (2017) faced the ire of the BJP with party members insisting that the scenes where the protagonist questions the efficacy of the Goods and Services Tax (GST) be removed. In 2018, his Sarkar rattled the AIADMK party thanks to scenes that heaped scorn on their welfare schemes and the name of the antagonist – Komalavalli, Jayalalithaa’s original name.

Through it all, Vijay, beyond the rare occasional emotional appeal to his fans has been largely stoical. In this age of noise and chaos, amplified by social media, Vijay’s studied silence in times of crisis belies an ability to hammer past obstacles. Of course, nowadays he is forever delivering speeches heavy with the masala dialogue he is famed for, although, truth be told they work better on the big screen. Either way, whether he chooses silence or speechifying he generates a certain aura and carries a certain mystique, which leads to an outpouring of adoration and reverence. It is not at all an unusual sight to see fans offering oblations of milk to giant – sized cutouts on release day for his films. Or get into tussles with fan clubs of rival actors. And turn out in record numbers to vote for him.

Vijay films – Pokkiri, Nanban, Thuppaki, Kaththi, Theri, Master and Leo minted money and meanwhile, he was quietly capitalizing on his fame and ginormous fanbase. Vijay Makkal Iyakkam was launched in 2009 with the intention to streamline his fan clubs into a social welfare organization that would carry out philanthropic activities like organizing charitable events, blood donation camps, etc. During the Chennai and Kerala floods Vijay donated money and relief material. In addition to this, he made it a point to speak out on trending topics such as the farmer suicides and the jallikattu ban establishing himself as a man of the masses who would champion their causes. In 2017, he made waves by visiting the family of S. Anitha who had committed suicide over an M.B.B.S admission issue, offering a relief amount of 1 lakh and has been a vocal opponent of NEET ever since.           

When Vijay announced his decision to enter politics, he met with scorn, derision and controversy. Unsurprisingly, he did not back down and allowed the election results to do the talking. Tamilians have pinned their hopes on him, hoping their Thalapathy will script a sensational success story for them as well, blinded by the stardust and delusional dreams of a future unmarred by the failings of his predecessors. Once more, he finds himself encountering one road block after another, despite a historic win and it remains to be seen whether Vijay rises to the occasion and allays the fears of his critics who have opined that it is a fool's move to vote for an untested superstar when the future of Tamil Nadu is at stake, or prove them right. 

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.

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

Achieving Enlightenment the Easy Way

The pursuit of enlightenment is simplicity itself. Especially in Kaliyuga, where the asuric forces of misinformation, consumerism, global warming, abysmal AQI (on good days the levels are unhealthy to hazardous while on bad days it climbs from toxic to deathly), criminality and corruption are on the rampage. It is no longer necessary to spend thousands of years locked in meditation with the body twisted up in impossible yogic poses, and the diet limited to dew drops, fallen leaves, and the occasional sluggish snail. In an age where the degradation of the human spirit and flesh is complete, the path to moksha is smoother than ever requiring only simple acts of kindness which delays the prophesied dissolution of the entire world by a few decades. Acts of bravery, selflessness and true devotion are similarly amplified. 

I am inclined to start the spiritual ascent sooner rather than later. But it might be better to begin from a place of strength as was pointed out to Michael Corleone in The Godfather, which means my life needs to be sorted out first. Which in turn entails achieving all my goals small and big, including the ones younger versions of me in decades past assumed I would have pulled off by now. 

Secondly, budgeting for enlightenment is a beastly business. Especially since the frame of mind required for doing good unto others requires a level of well-being that is frankly impossible to achieve without eating, praying and loving Elizabeth Gilbert style. 

In order to do that, I need to make indecent amounts of money by oversharing about my life-altering experiences from having travelled across every nook and cranny of the lost and forsaken cities like Cahokia, Çatalhöyük, Mohenjodaro, Pripyat and Angamuco in a book that will be a meticulous record of my passionate meandering. But grand expeditions on this scale which will enable me to tell my tall tales cost a bomb. The state of my current finances and my inability to budget for daily life let alone the adventure of a lifetime which will ensure that I can safely travel into the mysterious past while battling superheated volcanic gas and ancient zombies while tucking into bygone culinary delights and return in one piece needs to be addressed immediately. 

As such, I plan to learn everything I can about investment, the bulls and bears of the stock market, dogecoin, and the sastras pertaining to success. It might be best to enroll in an Ivy League college. Too bad I cannot afford it. 

It makes no matter. Becoming a loaded influencer is simplicity itself. All I need to do is film myself summiting Mt. Everest using only my hands in the manner of Karaikal Ammaiyar. It would have been accomplished too had I not accidentally dropped my stupid phone in the loo. But that is easily fixed. Just as soon as I become the proud owner of a Falcon Supernova IPhone 6 Pink Diamond. 

At this point, there might be those like my best friend who think I am being unreasonable and more than a little stupid. Just do it, she said the way your beloved Michael Jordan did. I fully intend to. Just as soon as I stop chasing my own tail, become a grown up and access the truth within to achieve eternal salvation. 

This article originally appeared in TNIE magazine

On why celebrating Jauhar is EXTREMELY PROBLEMATIC

 

Recently, I wrote a critical review of a book (about the unmitigated awfulness of the Mughals) and one of my issues with it among others was the glorification of Jauhar. Naturally the entire manosphere showed up on my Twitter/X feed to ‘school’ me. My credentials as an author, human being, critic and female of the species were questioned, I was asked to join a harem in Pakistan as a slave, informed that I endorse sex slavery, have a boyfriend named Abdul, am a Hinduphobe, and other things every bit as puke - inducing. Naturally I see no reason to engage with trolls who grow fat on outrage and can’t be bothered with measured responses, but I did wish to address some of the more problematic points raised, especially the passionate defence of Jauhar, by men mostly.

Those seeking to enlighten me and dispel my profound ignorance, stated that for women (young or old) and girls Jauhar was the last line of defence against the barbaric invaders and their armies and they chose death over rape and the defilement of their dead bodies. That they were not running toward death but away from degradation and theirs was an act of defiance against conquerors who sought to force them into concubinage. That they are proud of women who choose death over dishonour.  

Rousing as such pithy words are, needless to say, forcing women of any age or little girls to choose between rape and death is hardly a choice and clamouring that women made the decision (what choice did the little girls have?) to assert their agency this way is just plain depressing. It is a painful reminder that since the beginning of time and to this present day a woman’s body is treated as a battlefield for men to play their games of war and worse. It is a line of problematic, toxic reasoning that sees women as the property of men with no rights other than what men feel inclined to grant them and insists that female honour resides between the legs. This is the reason why a majority of victims of violent crimes like rape, murder, acid attacks, dowry harassment are women.

Despite the impassioned outbursts of men on either side of the ideological divide who are constantly harping about their scholarly credentials and insisting that every word in their books is backed up by irrefutable evidence and is the unvarnished truth, the fact remains that it is just plain silly not to mention presumptuous to claim exact knowledge of what happened hundreds or thousands of years ago or swear that every single woman in the glorious past freely chose self – immolation. Common sense dictates that not every woman would have made the choice to perform Jauhar or its equally ugly sibling, Sati because we come in different shapes, colours, and personality types. There is evidence that too many were forced into committing Jauhar or Sati for reasons of political expediency, the male ego, pressure from relatives, etc.

For those who would insist that I present a shred of ‘real’ evidence to back my ‘fanciful’ claims it has been suggested (I wasn’t there so I cannot swear it went down this way and despite what my husband says I don’t think I am always right) that Alauddin Khalji, one of history’s tyrants for well – documented reasons actually offered reasonable terms to those he sought to subjugate – oaths of fealty, tribute and marriage to him or his sons to seal the alliance. Many Indian Kings including the Rajputs found the terms acceptable. In Jalore and Siwana, which came under his sway, there is no indication that Jauhar took place. In Ranthambore and Chittoor, Jauhar supposedly took place, though in the former instance the Hammiramahakavya (an epic version of the Hammira Chauhan legend so I cannot attest that it went down this way) as well as other sources from the time record that Devala Devi, the Princess of Ranthambore rued her father’s obstinacy for not letting her marry the Shah, ensure peace and spare their subjects from being slaughtered. As for Chittoor, there is still no historical consensus about whether Padmavati, who supposedly sacrificed herself via Jauhar is a real or fictional character (like many things in life, it comes down to a question of faith). And in Gujarat, which also came under the Shah’s rule, Kamala Devi did become Alauddin’s wife, though I am sure hardliners on the right will swear that her hand was forced though a case can be made for her having chosen the Shah as the lesser of two evils. Who can say for certain? My point is just like #NotAllMenAre Jerks, good sense suggests that not all women were pro Jauhar or Sati even back in the day when it was perfectly par for the course to appease the male ego and the patriarchy’s diktats regarding female virtue, chastity and dignity.

In conclusion for those who continue to glorify Jauhar or Sati or any kind of Agni pariksha, I would like to point out the obvious. There is a reason these practises have been banned and believe me, it is a good one. It never was and never will be okay to celebrate a woman going up in flames. Whether she made the choice under duress. Or not.

To Hell with It

 

Everybody has their own version of hell. For those currently being brutalized and victimized in Gaza or any other active warzone, being starved, tortured, driven from their homes and watching their children get executed is the final circle of hell’s many torments. The drunk biker who caused the accident that turned a double – decker luxury bus into a raging inferno, the travel company who bypassed guidelines while renovating the vehicle, and the bus driver who got his heavy vehicle driving license with false certificates all of which cost the lives of 20 lives in Andhra’s Kurnool tragedy are no doubt deserving of places in hell’s vaunted torture chambers but the truth is only their victims got a taste of hell’s agonizing pain and their loved ones are living it. A young doctor in Maharashtra took her own life blaming sexual assault and the constant pressure to falsify certificates by a cop and political underlings for her decision, choosing death over hell.

A casual scan of the headlines on any given day confirms that life anywhere in the planet has acquired hellish dimensions. Yet, for the privileged populace who have mercifully been spared such horrors, the many versions of hell on earth is just another scary movie that has the ability to make even the most desensitized feel something akin to terror or sorrow but mostly serves to entertain and rescue from ennui. For the only thing most truly cannot abide and will do anything to avert is boredom. The rest neither matters nor merits getting out of bed, rolling up the sleeves and doing something, anything, to facilitate change in an increasingly cruel and corrupt world that simply doesn’t care about countless lives routinely getting ground up in the tragedy mill via entirely preventable ways.

Yet, make no mistake, everybody is in some form of hell. Even if for umpteen folks a hellish ordeal is formulating a suitable email response to an employer’s performance evaluation questionnaire or Tinder rejection. Or staring unblinkingly at a phone screen which is pinging with manic glee bringing to compromised attention, reports about Virat and Rohit’s performance or non – performance and Instagram reels featuring side boobs while missing the wife’s delivery of the firstborn. The notifications are endless and silencing them or changing the settings is only within the purview of non – existent gods. In the meantime, the infernal alerts must be checked every minute with compulsive frenzy just in case something life – changing or life – affirming crops up demanding an immediate reply. Or lest one misses out on something inane because it is trending. This is the daily, eternal grind humanity is trapped in.

After all, oblivion is preferable to not knowing what is right or whom to root for anymore since everyone is a hellion or hellraiser. Moral ambiguity is the norm as is self – serving ambition and personal vanity. Even without the aid of AI, everyone is most articulate in speaking the language of justice, but none can live it. In this virtual panopticon we inhabit irrespective of left or right based ideology, all are capable of performative outrage, faux sensitivity, and affected affinity over lost causes but none can scrounge up the virtue, guts and moral grit to take affirmative action and rescue anyone at all including the self from hell.

This article was originally published in TNIE Magazine

THE CYCLICAL TRAGEDY OF TOXIC BOOZE

 

Illicit liquor claiming the lives of poor labourers in Tamil Nadu is so very par for the course, that most can hardly be bestirred to protest. However, the staggering scale of the recent tragedy, which took place in the village of Karunapuram in TN’s Kallakurichi has raised eyebrows. Latest reports indicate that the illegal sale of moonshine has claimed as many as 55 lives, with over a 100 hospitalised in critical condition. 6 women are among those dead but nobody wants to talk about the fact that many women drink or are driven to drink by the drunken men in their lives who beat them up and grab what little money they have to fuel their addiction while leaving them to fend for themselves and the children as best as they can. But that is a story for another day. Meanwhile, this is not the first time, spurious liquor has claimed lives in TN, and if the past is any indication, it won’t be the last.

Around this time, last year, 416 arrests were made in Villupuram district (Kallakurichi’s neighbour), stores of hooch were seized and a flurry of transfers were carried out among govt. officials when 25 died and over 50 were hospitalized after downing illegal arrack. In June 2023,  PMK President – Anbumani Ramadoss demanded an audit of liquor outlets run by the TN State Marketing Corporation Ltd. – TASMAC (the state’s cash cow irrespective of which party comes to power) while protesting the continuous deaths brought on by the consumption of TASMAC sold booze and the death of a 35 – year old youth who had died in Salem district following a bout of drinking, facilitated by TASMAC. There are similar cases, going back over the years in TN with the usual round of protests from politicians belonging to the opposition, the call for prohibition (which is hardly the solution), the rounding up of shady sellers of arrack and seizure of their stashes of the devil’s brew and the inevitable transfers to give the impression of taking action against corrupt officials (who actively participate in and enable this ugly business), while actually doing squat. This has been going on for yonks now, with nothing by way of accountability or concrete action to avert a preventable evil. Which is why, one is forced to conclude that since we have chosen to turn a blind eye to the state’s history of deaths resulting from alcohol poisoning, we are doomed to repeat it.

This is also symptomatic of a deeper malaise within the system where politicians as well as well-heeled folks who don’t have to perform hard labour for pitiful wages in order to not be able to make ends meet, are perfectly content to let the poor and wretched remain poor and wretched. Why tsk at the Hindujas who have been sentenced to prison, having been found guilty of exploiting domestic workers when most in India are guilty of the exact same offense? In India, nobody cares that too many have been condemned to die in misery below the poverty line without access to food, clothing or shelter or that even more are denied access to basic requirements like drinking water, 3 square meals, sanitary living environment, electricity or quality education for their children. We would rather ignore the poor when not judging them for drinking themselves to death, and wile away the time, looking at pics of the Ambanis' umpteenth pre – wedding festivities.

But this cannot be allowed to go on. Politicians who talk about prohibition and shutting down TASMAC outlets before the elections without actually implementing any of their promises must be pulled up for their gross negligence and officials responsible for being a part of this godawful business must join the small fry who have been jailed after the tragic deaths at Kallakurichi. Rehabilitation must be provided free of cost to impoverished labourers wrestling unsuccessfully with full-blown addiction. Fair working conditions as well as access to a decent quality of life for all must be a level one priority as befits a developed nation. If we continue to be wilfully uncaring of the plight of the poor in this country, we are complicit every time a tragedy strikes them pushing them deeper into penury and abject misery and deserve the exact same punishment that has been handed out to the Hindujas.

‘River Prince’ book review: An Epic Translation of an Epic

 

Kalki was the consummate storyteller and in his chosen genre of historical fiction, showcased a dazzling skill for resurrecting the past with his immersive style of narration, intricate detailing, humour, masterfully crafted plot, and ability to create memorable characters capable of worming their way into the hearts of readers. His beloved series – ‘Ponniyin Selvan’, a murder mystery and thrilling adventure focuses on Raja Raja Chola, when he was still Prince Arulmozhi Varman, a remarkable youth with all the potential in the world, but beset by a treacherous web of deceit, conspiracy and betrayal within his family and the royal court.

 Nandini Krishnan has undertaken the task of translating his magnum opus from the original Tamil in a ten – part series and is doing a tremendous job. Balancing with aplomb on the tightrope between nailing the essence of the original text and making it more accessible to modern readers who may not necessarily have the patience for verse and lyrical prose at its most descriptive. This reader was charmed by her decision to transliterate the original verses with the translations beneath so that one may savour the exquisite wordplay achieved by a brilliant wordsmith without fumbling unduly for the meaning. The addition of notes enhances the reading experience without ever disrupting the flow as it is replete with nuggets of historical facts and delectable particulars pertaining to Tamil culture and the ancient language itself.

 In her skilled hands, ‘River Prince’, book 3 of Ponniyin Selvan is unputdownable and so deeply engrossing and fun, readers are likely to pester the translator and publishers to complete the series in one go and drop it all together on the market so that they can binge read and re-read to their heart’s content. In the River Prince, readers who in the first two books had only been given tantalizing glimpses of the jewel of the Chola Kingdom who went on to become one of the greatest emperors in history, finally get to meet him, at the exact same moment, as the protagonist and ever popular Vandiyadevan who has risked life and limb to come face to face with the prince, who is in the thick of fighting at Lanka in order to personally deliver a message. But this meeting would not have been possible without the cleverness, resourcefulness, and daring of beautiful Poonguzhali, the boat girl and fan favourite, whose heart and intentions are as unpredictable as the choppy sea she effortlessly traverses.

Meanwhile in Thanjai, Princess Kundavai crosses swords with the exquisite and deadly, Nandini, who has sworn to destroy the Cholas. The beauties who are at cross purposes with each other keep the reader mightily entertained as they battle it out, both determined to outmanoeuvre the other. A secret from the Emperor Sundara Chola’s past which contains a clue to the identity of the mysterious Oomai Rani is also revealed. The rip-roaring pace never lets up and every juicy plot twist leaves one hankering for more.

Kalki himself was unprepared for the impact the Ponniyin Selvan had, and though he is gone, it would have no doubt pleased him to witness the enduring popularity of the book with succeeding generations of readers, thanks to the efforts of committed translators like Nandini Krishnan.

This book review was published in TNIE magazine.

Are we Raising a Generation of Jerks?

 

The world is a horrifying place that can beat the goriest and most grotesque of horror movies hollow on any given day. There are terrors and monsters, frights and chills lurking around every other corner in the spectral forms of war, crime and calculated acts of evil. Most individuals encounter the seven deadly sins – pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath and sloth, on a daily basis and when they aren’t the victims, invariably they are the perps. But one of the most jump – scare inducing phenomena witnessed in recent times, is the behaviour of kids which is often so abhorrent they make the creepy children depicted to chilling effect in scary films with their translucent skin, lank hair, and blank but knowing eyes, seem like cuddly cherubs.

For those who have grown up screaming themselves hoarse after watching Samara from The Ring crawl out of the television to kill her victims in puke-worthy ways, seeing pint – sized brats plonked in front of handheld gadgets in public spaces looking somewhat like Rosemary’s Baby can be deeply unsettling. Similarly, the sight of temper – tantrum throwing tykes rolling on the floor, attacking their caregivers with lethal little fists when denied a third helping of ice cream can be reminiscent of Chucky – the serial killer doll, and can loosen the most turgid of bowels. Snotty adolescents and young adults with their rudeness and entitled ways seem to herald a doomed future where Damien from The Omen is in charge of the planet and his mini acolytes feed the adults to sharks and crocs because they can no longer be entertained by the vacuous content on streaming platforms or porn. 

Naturally, most parents would disagree. In their eyes, their precious boos are perfect little Princesses and Princes who deserve nothing less than everything served up on a platinum platter. Many mommies and daddies are committed to raising their beloved babies in a cocoon of love and indulgence minus discipline which will maximise their chances of becoming a popstar, superstar or sports - star or fast – track their way to an M.D/Ph.D or Noble Prize. Naturally, this means insulating the child from any semblance of normalcy and ensuring they retain the spoilt – brattishness that is being inculcated into their Peter Pan personas so that they never ever grow up to become useful human beings who are not a menace to society.

Since a majority of parents have proved incapable of modelling kindness, decency and generosity in front of their kids, it might be best if parenting were entrusted to trained professionals. We seek expert help when the AC needs to be fixed, when diagnosed with cancer, or if a murder has been committed. Why then do we not do the same when faced with raising children which is the toughest task of all? Since the future depends on gen next, it might be best if we employ radical means and conventional wisdom to make sure they don’t all grow up to be hardened jerks. Like us.

Disclaimer: No brats were harmed in the writing of this article and not all children are ruffians in the making.

This article was originally published in TNIE magazine

THE CATASTROPHIC CANINE CRISIS

 

Cases of strays or pet dogs, routinely attacking citizens and claiming lives, including those of children regularly makes it to headlines. Recently, a 5 – year old girl was mauled by two Rottweilers at a Nungambakkam park leading to a widespread public outcry. This prompted a typical knee – jerk response with the TN govt. declaring a ban against the import, sale, and breeding of 23 dangerous dog breeds including Rottweilers, Pit Bulls, Terriers and Rhodesian Ridgebacks, similar to the one issued by the Central govt. in March only to withdraw it within a matter of hours because the Madras high court and a few others had stayed the directive in response to protests by pet owners and breeders.

This non-resolution to the canine crisis in India is typical and has re-ignited the debate on how to deal with the problem with animal lovers and activists arrayed against concerned citizens demanding stronger guidelines to deal with the strays and aggressive pets. The statistics are chilling. India accounts for about 36 percent of the World’s rabies deaths. Deaths related to attacks by man’s best friends and dog bite cases are staggeringly high. Worse, many such instances go unreported, especially in rural areas. Packs of strays running wild on the streets and roads, are ticking time bombs, endangering themselves as well as the citizenry.

A suitable solution is possible provided committed action is taken by the Animal Welfare Board, state administration and the general populace working in tandem. Strays need to be gathered, vaccinated, neutered, and rehabilitated in dog shelters and sanctuaries to curb the burgeoning stray population and prevent attacks. Concerned citizens need to chip in with their time, money, and a willingness to adopt in order to supplement the efforts of the government. Pet control laws must be strictly enforced with owners ensuring that the four – legged members of the family are responsibly cared for and when taken out in public are suitably collared, leashed, and muzzled if necessary. A common complaint is that many people arbitrarily feed strays without taking overall responsibility for the dog’s welfare which leads to these animals becoming territorial and more prone to attacking the unwary, when they are not fed. Which is why raising public awareness and educating people about how best to protect themselves while dealing with strays, treatment options for rabies, etc. are key to making it possible for humans and animals to coexist without harming each other.

Ending the canine crisis entirely is going to be a challenge simply because heavy funds are required to sterilize and shelter these animals. Municipal bodies that aren’t corrupt or committed to enriching themselves at the expense of others tend to divert the limited resources towards more pressing concerns prioritising human over animal welfare thereby endangering both and allowing a bad situation to worsen. There is also the question of euthanasia or culling unwanted strays demanded by practical necessities, but which raises questions about promoting cruelty to animals and failure to safeguard their rights. A sustainable, lasting, and humane solution to the canine crisis is not impossible to achieve but it remains improbable.

This article was originally published in The New Indian Express.

COUNTERPRODUCTIVE CENSORSHIP

 

Imtiaz Ali’s biopic on Amar Singh Chamkila is a wakeup call. The singer, known as the Elvis of Punjab and his singer – wife, who sang wildly popular ‘dirty ditties’ were gunned down in 1988 and their killers were never caught. Chamkila’s detractors accused him of peddling sleaze with his ribald lyrics and raunchy beats, though the man seemed to have prided himself simply on giving the people what they wanted. Which was mostly horny humour and catchy tunes. After all, sex sells. Then, now, and forever more. But back then as is true even today, folks needed to pretend for the benefit of fellow hypocrites that they were committed to worthwhile pursuits that did not include appeasing the demands of the flesh. Few admitted to listening to his music, let alone liking it even as Chamkila’s records were sold at exorbitant prices on the black market. Many continue to mourn his loss and celebrate his legacy, but our collective commitment to false virtue and callousness makes us complicit with the criminals who hounded, harassed, extorted, and excoriated him in life, before inflicting the violence that ultimately claimed his life. 

This senseless tragedy made me wonder about the kind of dubious individuals who consider themselves the guardians of societal morals while committing deeds so far removed from morality that permanent denizens of hell would weep and curse the degree of monstrosity unleashed. Which begs the question… What manner of creatures are these? What happened that left them incapable of compassion or basic human decency? Did their parents hate them and leave them to fend for themselves in foul cellars while they were off dancing up a storm at raves? Or is it more likely, that in the land where the Kamasutra was written, we have the unhealthiest possible attitude where sex is concerned? Which, in turn breeds hell spawn who feel compelled to inflict pain and death on the innocent over their artistic or personal choices.

Sex is considered ick in this country where it is more socially acceptable to piss than kiss in public. We don’t bother with sex education for our youngsters or even creating a safe space for them to address their questions and concerns about their bodies or desires, preferring to leave that irksome job to pornography and pop culture. Forget the youth, so – called adults are very far from reconciling bodily needs against societal stigma and shame even as they obsess over the sex lives of others which ensures that their own is entirely lousy. The overall dissatisfaction and resentment boil over creating a toxic environment ripe for violent deeds.

Then we turn around and blame films and artists for corrupting the minds of murderers in the making and failure to preserve our supposedly pristine culture. Artists are subjected to endless persecution, simply because they are easy targets unlike the many others who are far more deserving of public ire. Such censorship is almost always counterproductive unless it is directed at the self. If we can muster the courage to look ourselves in the eye, we will think twice before turning a destructive gaze upon others. 

This article was originally published in The New Indian Express. 

Interview with Shinie Antony

Shinie Antony - writer, editor, novelist, and columnist, is the winner of the Commonwealth Short Story Asia Prize, co – founder of the Bangalore Literature Festival and has the dubious distinction of inflicting Chetan Bhagat on India. Her latest novels, Can’t and Eden Abandoned: The Story of Lilith were released this year. In a freewheeling chat, this wordsmith is every bit as witty and wicked as the fierce ‘fallen woman’ from her tales.

1. Most authors hereabouts are jealous that you have managed the incredible feat of releasing two exquisitely crafted novels back-to-back, especially since AI has prompted many a writer to throw in the towel. How did you pull this off?

It was emotional crafting vs. ‘thinking up’. With Lilith I had readymade texts to refer from: Gilgamesh to Talmud, Ben Sira, Genesis 1, Hebrew Bible, George MacDonald… Lilith told her own story, I was like a stenographer taking it down. With Can't I was on my own. I thought both Nena and Tata up, what they wore, what they spoke, their quirks, eccentricities, back stories. Writing Can't was a more complex and conscious process. Lilith happened on its own.

2. Can’t features a woman in her seventies traipsing off into the unknown with a seventeen-year-old, on a quest to track down her husband’s illicit bed mates. What is it about straying spouses and incompetent lovers that unleashes the rabid beast within?

Gender equations are lopsided. We are all going by that one old sepia portrait of womanhood hanging on a peeling wall in a mouldy haveli somewhere. In The Girl Who Couldn’t Love, Rudrakshi looks on from the other side. She will dump a man before he dumps her.

3. In your subversive take on Lilith, the original witch and ‘something which rhymes with it’ from the Bible, lasciviousness is rendered luscious while depravity is downright delicious. What drew you to Lilith, reimagining her as an indomitable force of nature, who refused to surrender, not even on pain of spiritual death and worse?

Like all mythological vamps, Lilith is bold. She has this dangerous beauty that lures men to their doom, and she snacks on little babies. Middle-aged women are proverbially considered invisible. After forty, they say, poof, you’re gone, you no longer exist. Male anger is celebrated, made much of. It is macho and presumed protective. ‘Angry woman’ is supposed to be an oxymoron – even the way we laugh is prescribed in the syllabus: softly, without noise, into your fist etc. if you must be so vulgar as to laugh at all. But this is the thing, ageing is a superpower. Being single is a superpower. Not having kids is a superpower. Female anger is a thing of beauty. An articulate woman in a temper is a work of art.

4. Nena from Can’t as well as Lilith are dealing with the nuclear fallout of a failed relationship. Previously, you wrote about the Girl Who Couldn’t Love. Have you declared war on coupling since most swear by marriage and love despite the damning evidence on hand?

Both books are about female resurrection. Women resurrect all the time. Life leaves them for dead – and each time they are like I’m here, still here. Female foeticide, infanticide by midwives with salt in their fists, honour killing, dowry deaths, widows thrown wherever. As a nation we don't know where to dump our garbage, but we always knew where to dump widows... The planet is divided not into men and women – we are the animal kingdom, after all – but into the powerful and the powerless, predator and prey. If women go take a nap the sati system will be back.

5. What do you think is stopping women from channelling feminine rage and agency to live life on their own terms without having to live in mortal terror of consequences?

Women stop themselves, because they buy into the rumours about themselves. They want to conform and toe the line, do the done thing, say the said thing. But one day they get it. And then heaven help Earth!

An edited version of this interview was published in TNIE magazine.

Rendering Religion Redundant

 

Karl Marx famously disparaged religion as “the opium of the masses”. Though my German is even poorer than my Hindi, I take it that that Marx felt religion was a clever tool wielded by the powerful to not only oppress the overworked and underpaid majority but to make them feel better about their oppression by encouraging them to fixate on faith – based fixes since they couldn’t afford opiates and float their way out of poverty and pain on a pleasurable cloud of oblivion. Since Marx’s time, politicians and their billionaire backers have come up with many innovations to further subjugate the suppressed with liquor guaranteed to end suffering via cirrhosis of the liver, freebies and pornography to delight the heart and loins, and cheap entertainment accessible 24/7 on mobile phones. Religion, however, remains the favourite with the ridiculously and rabidly religious rapidly becoming a plague on an already diseased civilized world.

Ironically, though the core doctrine of most religions endorses love, peace and compassion, the revival of faith-based conflict and violence witnessed in recent times has seen religion commonly associated with hate, intolerance, and heightened aggression. Even as the situation worsens in Gaza and people across the world are slamming Israel and its allies as perpetrators and enablers of genocide, the slaughter of the Islamist population in that contested strip of ‘holy land’ continues unabated. Religious fanaticism has raised its ugly head elsewhere too.

In China, Uighur Muslims are routinely persecuted and herded into labour camps, as are the Rohingya in Myanmar. In the middle East, Sunni and Shia Muslims battle it out for domination as do the Muslims and Catholics in Bosnia and Kosovo. Islamic extremists wage their global jihad undeterred by concentrated efforts to shut them down. Hostilities have increased against religious minorities be they Hindus, Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, and Catholics in many parts of the world. Closer home, in India the ruling party has been accused of actively promoting Hindu and Hindi interests to the detriment of all else.

To be fair, religion and the religious leaders who are not actively invoking violence in the name of faith have done some good in this divided world. The devotees who have not become radicalized or taken up terrorism have actively involved themselves with helping the poor, marginalized and victims of war. Relief and charitable efforts have been made possible through the efforts of the faithful mobilized by temples, churches, mosques, synagogues working in tandem with humanitarian agencies and welfare organizations. Interfaith dialogues have also facilitated initiatives to promote peace, human rights and non – violence.

Even so, if the security blanket of religion is taken away it is possible that people wouldn’t be so preoccupied with the futile effort to secure a ticket to paradise using the currency of blind faith, prayer, and ritual worship. Without the highs and lows of religious relief they may be forced out of their collective torpor to address the widening wealth gap and income inequalitythat impacts them directly. Combined effort might even create a better world where all are equal and there is absolutely no need for a toxic drug like religion.

 

This article was published in TNIE Magazine.

MAHASHIVARATRI 2024

 

Mahashivaratri 2024 was a tremendous experience. Nityanjali, our dance troupe performed in Thiruvaiyaru (10:00 pm) and Thiruvidaimarudur (4:00 am). As always, it was a lovely experience. The insane travelling with the packed schedule and rehearsals can be gruelling but the entire process is never less than amazing thanks to the good company, yummy food (which included homemade murukkus), surprisingly clement weather, live music, dance, and a taste of the divine in all its sacred and scary glory.

While people’s faith is entirely private and all are entitled to their beliefs it has to be admitted that the faithful, especially when they turn up in droves for religious celebrations can be a public nuisance. I was appalled by the surging crowds at the temples and the terrifying lack of crowd control or event security which would guarantee the safety of the heaving masses which included the elderly, babies, and disabled people. There was zero consideration for others as I witnessed folks forcing their way into narrow entry points which doubled as exits, uncaring that they were shoving and hurting others. Traffic snarls were apparent in every road at all hours of the night and the lack of civic sense was apparent in the way people discarded paper cups, plastic bags, and unfinished food across every inch of available space be it a temple or toilet. 

The risk of a stampede loomed over our heads although, it felt like I was probably the only one who was deeply concerned about getting crushed beneath the filth encrusted feet of the faithful. (On a related note, why are holy places in India such an unholy mess?) The devotees seem to think that just because temples are sacred spaces nothing bad can happen never mind that history and recent news is filled with tragic events where hundreds lost their lives in stampedes which occurred during large gatherings at temples when religious festivities were being observed. Examples include stampedes in Vaishno Devi Temple (2022), Rajahmundry (2015), Andhra during the Pushkaram festival, Gandhi Maidan (2014) in Patna after Dussehra, Ratangarh temple (2013) in MP during Navratri. Incidents have also been recorded in Puri Juganath, Kumbh mela, Sabarimala, etc.

Mercifully, our dance troupe stuck it out by taking care of each other and keeping a wary eye against the more aggressive of God’s fervent followers of all genders who are not above using their chests, elbows, and stomping feet to clear a path. There is always the risk of chain snatchers, pickpockets, and perverts as well. Surely there is a way to celebrate religious occasions without endangering life and limb? The divine can be truly experienced only in silence, solitude and space not in cramped enclosures where hapless deities are caged in sanctum sanctorums almost as a defence against the insane crowds who will literally kill for a glimpse of their God.

FRUSTRATING FOMO AND FINDING FULFILLMENT

 

There is only one thing worse than being inundated with invitations to an endless array of ‘happening’ events I feel compelled to attend even though I would rather be chilling in bed with a show and cheese popcorn on the side and that is not being inundated with invitations to the aforementioned shindigs. That is when I find myself staring morosely at the Pringles, I am going to hate myself for scarfing down while watching Mike Flanagan’s latest attempt at elevated horror on Netflix, liking him a lot and hating him a little for having such a happening career, forcing me to contemplate the many boxes left unticked on the achievement front. Between episodes, I scroll aimlessly through social media feeds where everyone seems to be doing something that could pass for exciting, aggravating the ever-present FOMO. For the uninformed, that is the ‘fear of missing out.’

Some of us are preoccupied with ageing and the terrifying inevitability of it prompts us to counter this by packing every single moment with momentous activity, because nobody wants to confront death, filled to the brim with regret. As some tiresome wiseacre unwisely said, once upon a time, you only ever regret the things you didn’t do. Which is why I am forever trying to push myself out of comfort zones with the intention to broaden the horizon a bit just so I can feel that I am doing something worthwhile with life’s finite supply of time. This commitment to future me who is on the brink of kicking the bucket and needs to be comforted by a barrage of memories celebrating glowing achievements and epic milestones is exhausting and endlessly frustrating. What is the point of berating myself for not doing enough when it ends up feeling like it is all too much?

Nowadays, I am teaching myself to do little things that generate fulfilment even if it does not qualify as useful or productive enough to be featured on my resume or Insta post. I might be missing out on doing something awesome by saying no to an invitation because my gut registered a protest but that no longer feels awful. Nor does it seem like a catastrophe of earth – shattering proportions because invitations aren’t forthcoming, except when it does. But that is nothing a soul – satisfying activity like an extra hour of yoga, playing with my pups, or a long conversation with a good friend can’t fix.

As a society we have become fixated with using time efficiently to rack up economic as well as experiential gains, that will allow us to fully flourish. We are expected to maximise not just work but leisure time, because our value is calculated by the things we do or at least seem to be doing. All the damn time. This ‘let us live life to the fullest’ and ‘make every moment the best one yet’ business is a crock of crap guaranteed to kill us quicker via hypertension. There is nothing wrong with ambition and aspiration, but it is also okay to simply survive without feeling the need to thrive all the time.

This article was published in TNIE Magazine

A QUESTION OF MEAT AND MORALITY

 

An abiding love for mythology can never be a bad thing and yet, somehow, we seem to have found a way to take something wonderful, toss it into the blender with faux Hindutva dogma, distort it past all recognition and use it to serve vested interests keen on divisive politics.

How did it come to this?

 For starters, everybody, it seems, is an expert after glancing through a book or two and listening with half-an-ear to granny’s tales, speed – reading a lengthy Whatsapp forward or having returned from a session with the friendly neighbourhood storyteller who likes to expound at length on Puranic lore while high on bhang. Considering themselves scholars who know everything there is to know about the veritable sea of obscure, oftentimes, contradictory facts that constitutes Indian mythology, uber-patriotic pests feel free to clump together and lynch or abuse those who are not infected with whatever it is that has turned their brains to mush and hearts to lead.

Nobody is exempt from the excesses of these modern-day rakshasas, but the so-called ‘evil eaters' of meat in general and beef in particular have been targeted with tragic results. While there is no denying that the cow is revered in Indian mythology, there is plenty of evidence to suggest that meat—any meat—was consumed with relish by the ancients, including the Brahmins. In fact, there is a tale from the Periya Puranam, which reveals how Shiva paid a visit to his devotee, Siruthondar, in disguise as a poor but haughty Brahmin and insisted that he must be served non-vegetarian (maamsam) cuisine. Being a poor man, who could not afford to buy any food let alone meat, the great man, slew his son, made his wife cook the choicest cuts and serve it. For this act of faith, which in this day and age would be considered to be the foulest kind of murder (rightly so), he received an express pass to partake of the vaunted delights of heaven and remains revered as one among the 63 Nyanmars. 

Sage Agastya, similarly, according to a tale from the Mahabharata, was a gourmand with a partiality for meat, and consumed the demon Vatapi, with great gusto. This rakshasa had a weird fetish for taking on the form of a goat, which his brother Ilvala would chop up and serve with misleading generosity to the Brahmins, some of whom would regularly bully their way into homes demanding 'maamsam' meals uncaring whether their unwilling hosts had the means to serve up such lavish feasts featuring meat as the main course. As for the rakshasa brothers hellbent on teaching the Brahmins a lesson, once the mutton had been greedily consumed, Vatapi would tear his way out from the entrails of the gluttonous Brahmins killing them instantly. They carried on this murderous sport for many years, till Agastya, famed for his iron constitution and superior powers of digestion put paid to their serial killer ways and prompted his fellow Brahmins to re-examine their dietary preferences.

 In fact, there is reasonable evidence to suggest that it was not till after the Bhakti movement believed to have taken place in Medieval times which saw a large-scale reformation and revival of Hinduism, that Brahmins adopted vegetarianism as a way of life. Prior to that it was the Jains and Buddhists who endorsed vegetarianism in the interests of upholding the rights of all living creatures, although by that logic plants should also be spared in this writer's opinion and we should all learn to subsist on love and not - so - fresh air.

 Chew on that for a bit before forming erroneous notions about how best to enforce the glories of a distant past that may or may not have even existed!

 If cannibalism in the case of Siruthondar and Agastya was not exactly frowned upon back in the day, then couldn’t there be a remote possibility that more than a few of the ancients especially revered beings born into the Kshatriya race had a partiality for meat? And surely, it is probable our famously compassionate gods would have partaken of the non - vegetarian fare offered to them in worship mainly because they cannot possibly be the jerks their extremist devotees clearly are?

 Recently, a furore was raised over the question of whether Rama ate meat. As a Kshatriyan Prince, it would appear to be in the affirmative. The warlike caste’s preferred pastime was hunting and since waste was the only thing that was considered a criminal offense in those days, it goes without saying that slain game was cleaned, cooked, consumed with the hide, claws, horns and every bit of the carcass stripped for parts to make sure that nothing went to waste. When Rama, Lakshmana and in a later age, the Pandavas, were sent into exile, they were allowed to take only their weapons and a basket into the forest so that they could live off the land using their skill as hunter gatherers. And it goes without saying that meat was part of their diet. However, insisting that the Princes subsisted solely on fruits, roots, nuts and berries which may have been included in their meals but not limited to it is pushing the limits of credibility. For all we know, even the fabled Akshaya Patra gifted to Yudhishtra by Surya, the Sun God might have produced a dish to delight the tastebuds of the true carnivore!

Some scholars point to a verse in Valmiki Ramayana where it is suggested that Rama took an oath with his mother, Kausalya, bearing witness that he would not touch meat for the duration of his exile. This is hardly definitive proof of anything because Valmiki’s Ramayana was never ever set in stone. Originally, narrated orally, the epic was verbally handed down for generations before written texts as we know it today emerged. The narrative must surely have undergone many changes over the eons in keeping with ever changing norms and codes of conduct, that are inevitable with the passing of the ages. Therefore, insisting that there is only one authentic version of Valmiki’s Ramayana, preserved exactly the same as when it emerged from his lips, disregarding the many regional texts and folk tales based on the Ramayana is an inaccurate as well as fanatical, extremist way of looking at things, bereft of the spirit of tolerance, compassion and acceptance that is one of the most beautiful aspects of Hinduism.

Surely, the gods in all their infinite wisdom would not see it fit to abuse, mistreat, or condemn to the thousand hells of Yama those among their mortal offspring who consume meat or live life as they see fit? Would they condone the senseless violence, hatred, intolerance and killing that is carried out in their name? I should certainly hope not.

Ultimately, anybody who knows anything at all about mythology will tell you that it is a constantly shifting narrative that is metamorphosing even as this is being written, and 100 years hence will be unrecognisable from what we know of it today. Therefore, it would be lovely if people stopped using mythology, religion, morality, or any of the flimsy excuses being bandied about for their insupportable and unconscionable behaviour that is a disgrace to this nation.

 

P.S: I have written many versions of this over the years. This piece contains bits and pieces from older ones (links below) and I have added inputs based on current issues, which is mostly more of the same old crap.

 When Mythology is Misused and Misunderstood

Vegetarianism does not Equal Virtue