Warcry of the Wronged Woman!

 

Every single day, without fail, there is a violent, gender - based crime that forces us to sit up and take notice, jaded though we’ve become. In Tamil Nadu, 27-year-old Rithanya took her own life after she was harassed for dowry, though her parents had already spent a fortune. Inured as we are to dowry deaths, this case generated outrage over a voice note the victim had left, in which, she confided to her father - "There is only one man for one woman. In this birth, I got married once, and my life is not good. That’s all. It is over." The bereaved father mentioned this in public and while condemning those who had driven her to death added that he was proud of her for sticking to the "oruvanuku oruthi" concept. Roughly translated it refers to monogamy but naturally only a woman is expected to adhere to this stricture and swear fidelity to the first man who has seen/touched her naked body and deigned to marry her. Men, of course are not bound by such inconvenient and impractical balderdash and even if they choose to be lecherous, cheating, dowry - demanding deadbeats, they feel entitled to the unswerving love and loyalty of their wives. 

Further North, Radhika Yadav was shot dead by her father while she was preparing breakfast for him. Allegedly, the Dad from hell simply could not bear the fact that he had been repeatedly taunted for living off his Tennis player daughter and further rebuked for "allowing" her to run around in shorts and athleisure wear as it was a moral affront and not at all in keeping with India's glorious culture and tradition as per which men get to drop their pants and pee in full view of the public while women who swim or play tennis in sports gear can fully expect to be shot for their indecent ways. Always happy contributors to overpowering ugliness, the trolls jumped in with slanderous accusations claiming that Radhika was seen in the company of unsuitable men. And some of them were love jihadists! What is a father to do? 

Vociferous indignation or caustic condemnation is not enough, and we must scrutinize the underlying cause of such crimes. A vast majority of people still believe that a woman's virtue depends solely on the diameter of her vagina. Too many still hold the view that family honour is tied to a woman's body and therefore, she must remain pure and unsullied which translates to sexually repressed for life. Even more are inclined to see women as little more than meat to be consumed and discarded at will, objects that can be bought and sold as per the need. Worst of all, too few women know better. 

Women have rights. We do! We are allowed to live and love and even laugh. Really! That means we can wear what we like, play sports, marry or not and fart as we please. If those afflicted with performance anxiety, erectile dysfunction and dud personalities feel like diminutive dudes who can't do diddly-squat they have no business taking it out on women who can and will. Deal with it or be damned! 

This article was originally published in TNIE Magazine.

 

The Wisdom in Preparing for the Worst

 

I am always surprised at the surprise evinced by so many when godawful things go down with clockwork like regularity. Recently a stampede claimed 11 lives and injured many more following a cricketing triumph. Lack of crowd control, non – existent planning or organisation for the victory parade caused the tragedy. In a country where overcrowding is the norm across every overpopulated inch of it, how did we not see this coming? This year alone, many lives were claimed in similar stampedes at North Goa’s Shirgao village, a New Delhi railway station, at the Sangam area of the Maha Kumbh where lakhs of pilgrims had gathered for a dip, and the Venkateshwara temple in Tirumala Hills. And let us not forget the theatre in Hyderabad where fans were killed in the mad dash to catch a glimpse of a film star. Yet, we are bewildered when calamitous mishaps happen on account of deliberate blindness and a lackadaisical attitude towards ensuring the safety of our fellow citizens.

The populace gasped in collective horror like the audience of Terrifier 3, when video footage emerged capturing the last moments of a family trying to escape a vicious fire. A desperate man threw two children (his daughter and nephew) from the ninth floor before jumping himself. Relatives of the deceased blame the shoddy response from the emergency services and bystanders who were busy making videos without bothering to help. Unfortunately, sarkari incompetence and societal apathy is only too typical. How many times have we seen fire - trucks and ambulances with blaring sirens stuck in impossible traffic on narrow, damaged roads packed with mammoth – sized speed monsters designed for the Autobahn and condemned heavy vehicles held together by band-aids and everything else on wheels and four legs in - between? We avert our gaze or utter a quick prayer and hope for the best. As for what needs to be done to prevent the preventable, we can’t be bothered.

There was a lot of finger-wagging over a couple of cases featuring wives who cold-bloodedly plotted the murder of their spouses. Naturally, feminists were blamed for the deterioration of morality and the loss of traditional values which leads to such shocking crimes. Even more naturally, nobody wants to acknowledge that the system is broken, law and order is a joke, and we live in a cesspool where anarchy rules and everybody including women would rather kill than be killed.

Engaging with the problems that beset us, is our collective responsibility. We can’t keep blaming the morally compromised blowhards we elected to power in exchange for freebies and empty promises about protecting caste/religion-based rights. It is high time we shake off the torpor and actively work towards eliminating the systemic rot, with a smidgen of smarts. We deserve so much better than what we have settled for like the unpretty prostitutes with hearts of lead we have become having bartered our bodies and souls for petty trifles. But in a fractured land where laziness, stupidity, and bad behaviour alone is rewarded repeatedly, we need to anticipate the worst and prepare accordingly if we have no wish to become yet another sad statistic.

This article was originally published in TNIE Magazine

Rare, Regional, Remarkable

 

Short stories have been getting the short end of the stick, with publishers refusing to even consider carefully curated collections in this format favouring anthologies with big names instead. This has changed with Kannada writer, Banu Mushtaq’s Heart Lamp: Selected Stories getting longlisted for the Booker Prize. Countless short stories are now being unearthed from regional languages and this reviewer got to sample classic collections sourced from the late nineteenth to the mid-twentieth centuries and lovingly edited by Mini Krishnan.

The Second Marriage of Kunju Namboodiri and other Classic Malayalam Stories translated by Venugopal Menon is flavoursome as they come. Some of the fare sparkles with gentle wit or a touch of romance and others are filled to bursting with pathos or passionate outrage, with most caustically addressing the stupidity that characterizes much of the human race, especially the male of the species and the far from sensible strictures, customs, and traditions that were tyrannically enforced.

C. Chinnammu Ammal’s A Case of Homicide written in 1913, interestingly enough has a similar denouement to Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Problem of Thor Bridge (1922). Both are about vengeful characters seeking to frame an innocent person for murder using an ingenious trick with a gun. M. Saraswatibhai’s Witless Women, T. Devaki Nethyaramma’s An Ideal Wife and V.T. Bhattathirippad’s Illusion or Delusion are moving accounts of the tortuous conditions women endured despite Kerala’s famed matrilineal tradition. In these tales, women are saddled with weak men who in addition to their many inadequacies have monstrous egos that are committed to actively harassing the women in their lives irrespective of whether they were relatively nice men or downright nasty. But it was an age when women were taught to shut up and put up with a smile even when they were being grossly abused and to stay loyal to their husbands unto death and beyond because widowhood was worse and the ill – treatment freely meted out to these ‘inauspicious’ women usually drove them to madness, penury and a slow death.

A Teashop in Kamalapura and other Classic Kannada Stories translated by Susheela Punitha is a humdinger of a collection with tales so potent and poignant you will find yourself unable to put the book down despite buzzing notifications. K. Vasudevacharya’s Malleshi’s Sweethearts about a bumbling search for a spouse is delightful. Many of the stories address social evils targeting women and the poverty stricken.

A.Sitaram’s The Girl I Killed features a temple slave who is a victim of a patriarchal tradition that exploits female bodies and shames them to death for it. K. Srinivasarao’s The Master’s Satyanarayana is a heartbreaking tale about rich people’s greed which deprives the poor of the little they have. Saraswathibai Rajawade’s The Battered Heart exposes sleazy Godmen who preach about the virtues of celibacy while grooming underage girls to be brainwashed into becoming willing bed mates. Belagoankar’s short sheds light on the Niyoga tradition sanctioned by epic lore where women desperate to become mothers after being berated for their ‘failure’ are pressured into setting aside rules of chastity to welcome a man of proven fertility to impregnate them. In Between Rules and Regulations, Sara Aboobacker excoriates the triple talaq.

Maguni’s Bullock Cart and other Classic Odia Stories translated by Leelawati Mohapatra, Paul St-Pierre and K.K. Mohapatra include tales from the pens of those who risked a lot to raise their voices against oppression. Fakir Mohan Senapati has two stories featured here with the first addressing how challenging it was back in the day to provide an education for a girl child in almost unbearably melodramatic fashion and the second, which is in a lighter vein recommending a form of treatment for husbands prone to heavy drinking, drug use and womanising. U. Kishore Das writes about a ghost whose husband and former suitor were unmitigated jerks who ended up being the end of her. Biswanath Rath’s tale has a widow who is a victim of a baseless canard that makes her already wretched existence immeasurably worse. Suprabha Kar’s The Long Wait shares the plight of a young wife whose husband subjects her to savage beatings after he blows up her dowry which sends her hurtling down the path of whoredom and worse. Routeray’s Flower of Evil about an abandoned wife who dies while trying to abort her illegitimate child is a sock to the solar plexus.

These stories written with touching simplicity sans the artifice and stylistic literary devices that are liberally employed today by the literati to espouse causes endorsed by the privileged are redolent with emotional honestly and far more effective in striking a blow against social injustice. They wrack the conscience and make one glad to be alive in a world where we are more aware of individual rights even if we couldn’t care less about the greater good.

This book review was originally published in TNIE Magazine

A Hymn for Silence

 

If nothing else, the Age of Information has belched out a buttload of entitled blockheads who demand the most current news incessantly. In a world where data is disseminated at rapid-fire speed, this is entirely possible. Countries may go to war at Vampiric hours cloaked under cover of darkness, speed and secrecy for all the good it does given that even children in the remotest corners of civilization can follow the age inappropriate content in real time with a smartphone and an internet connection via firsthand accounts and live videos that pop up within seconds on their Twitter or Instagram feeds from all possible angles and perspectives ranging from foot soldiers and victims to politicians and press personnel.

Opinions and counter – opinions are aired at breakneck pace in a voluminous outpouring guaranteed to blow up already besieged braincells filled to bursting with the information overload that needs to be processed and absorbed all the time, rendered at demented decibels. In fact, it is only a matter of time before AI appraises us of earthshattering events before they have actually occurred allowing humans to alter the course of history by worsening tragedies while clumsily attempting to avert them, making it even more newsworthy. Traditional media, struggling to stay relevant, doggedly emphasize expertise, accuracy and corroborated date from official sources while battling accusations that their integrity has been compromised and they are the drooling poodles of the rich and powerful on either side of the ideological divide. Even so, newspapers still show up on doorsteps, television news anchors rant on though rendered redundant by OTT streaming services and these as well as news websites are consumed by those relegated to dinosaur status. As for the rest, it is all about what has gone viral or is currently trending on social media.

Amidst the clamour and cacophony, there are calls for censorship since no child should have to witness another child’s execution style murder being live streamed from Gaza or the graphic details about the travails of an adult film star who needed to be hospitalized after a backdoor challenge that went horribly wrong. On occasion, there is a hue and cry against the proliferation of misinformation and fake news released by the well – intentioned armed with incorrect info or trolls/bots acting in bad faith to boost false narratives. In response, a few sane voices drowned out by declamatory dunces urge caution when it comes to indiscriminate consumption, suggest cross – checking by leveraging multiple platforms, and urge the prioritizing of nuance, complexity and authenticity. These are fighting a losing battle. There is no algorithm that can censor or verify facts over the sheer speed of content sharing on social media and no substitute for dwindling common sense.  

Ironically, reliable information is a scarce commodity now. Beset by fear and fatigue from too much alarming news, no one can stand the noise anymore. And yet, we have grown acclimatized to the clamour and are active collaborators in the chaos. Above all else, we need silence. For it is only in the stillness that we can reclaim our lost souls and invaluable power of introspection. If we can bear the calm and quiet after the pandemonium we have been partying to, we might just survive. If not, we don’t deserve to.

Of Smart Sisters and Misogynistic Misters

 

One of the most beautiful things about art is its ability to transcend human limitations and the grotesquerie of existence, even while exploring the same at uncomfortably close quarters all while on a quest for the raw truth in all its exquisite and repulsive glory, utterly shorn of artifice. A good storyteller is one who subsumes the self in service of the story being told/written. The Tiger’s Share by Keshava Guha is one such worthy story.

On the surface, it would appear to be a simple story about sibling rivalry ramped up when a family summit is called and a patriarch passes, with gender rules foisted by the patriarchy and centuries of institutionalized misogyny coming into play. But it goes beyond all that and does not limit itself to individual struggles played out against an unsettling setting where hyper -nationalism, toxic masculinity and the burgeoning climate crisis loom over the proceedings in the menacing manner of Marvel supervillains. In a nutshell, it is about Tara - a Daddy’s not so little girl who far from growing up to be a cliched junkie or purveyor of pornographic services always assumed to be inevitable in keeping with Freudian lore, learns to see the man her father really is and her responsibilities not just to him and her immediate family but the world at large. If Tara is the beating heart of the story, then her father is its soul.

A rare Delhiite who is not only good at her job and sensible to a fault, Tara is a lawyer who is not remotely aggressive and fully committed to defusing a potentially explosive situation. A childhood friend, Lila is a more typical inhabitant of the capital city and the two reconnect when they find themselves dealing with siblings over what could easily escalate into a gargantuan financial and property dispute. Both the women are fully capable of taking on far more formidable adversaries using the considerable intellect, skillsets or resources at their disposal and yet, they falter in the manosphere they occupy. With sensitivity and gentle wisdom, Guha draws us into their compelling inner lives and into the epicentre of the fears and insecurities that rule them.

For too many women, indulgence in illicit desire might be the kryptonite that can destroy everything they have worked to build, especially in a topography where male excess regarding their loins is condoned and encouraged while the penalty could be death or worse for untrammelled feminine lust. Others may come across as truly empowered women, who are self – sufficient, liberal in their outlook with a life carefully constructed in keeping with their personal likes and preferences. They may be confident in their choice of saying no to marriage, motherhood and a pesky boyfriend, but can they remain bulletproof when threatened with the loss of a mother’s affection? Will they sacrifice a rightful share in exchange for peace and grudgingly offered scraps of fraternal respect and affection? Is it the smarter choice for a woman to settle for less or fight for what she is entitled to? The Tiger’s Share doesn’t bother with simple answers the way a lesser book might have.

Delhi is very much a part of the narrative and Guha’s loving depiction of the city with its compelling allure, complicated politics and impossible living conditions is a delight to behold. Tara’s father – Brahm Saxena is a fascinating creation. A beautiful soul, he could have easily been viewed as a buffoon given the nature of his late life existential crisis which prompts him to do what he does aided and abetted by his beti and a nebulous cult figure. But through Brahm’s realization of his self, Guha urges us to accept reality as is and acknowledge that we are but infinitesimal specks in the grand scheme of things, created only to be consumed, deluded into thinking we control the future with the choices we make.  

This book review was originally published in TNIE Magazine.

Cripple the Conscience to beat Boredom!

 

Once upon a simpler time, it simply wasn’t done to wash one’s dirty laundry in public. But nowadays, when the only thing people cannot tolerate is boredom, it has become acceptable. Everybody wants to be the star of their own reality show, and we can all collectively tune in at will, as aspiring social media stars and influencers from all walks of life document the excruciating details of their lives from post – coital posts and bowel movement updates to livestreaming the agonizing death of a loved one. Even that stuff has gotten old as everybody is doing it and it is impossible to muster up anything resembling enthusiasm for yet another overshare curated to grab eyeballs with a close up view of a bellwether type’s butthole. Enough is enough! We want dirt, damn it!   

Not even porn is cutting it nowadays. It is not twisted or kinky enough. Which is why shows like The White Lotus which have managed the impossible feat of making the entire world pay attention have casually tossed incest into the mix, devilishly provoking outrage and maximum engagement. The makers may or may not have been influenced by one infamous dude who called himself the brewski bulge or something equally inane and cracked an Oedipal joke that landed him in hot water. Word is that the worst is behind him, and he is on the verge of signing a book and movie deal to monetize the notoriety, he clearly coveted. Even this obloquy is not floating our boat anymore. Here we are now! Entertain us… as Kurt Cobain famously growled in a halcyon age when only rockstars were allowed to go off their rockers to provide the starving populace their quota of the sordid and scandalous.

A tech billionaire was obliging enough to spill the squalid secrets about his ugly divorce. There were allegations of an affair, demands for excessive sex, tax evasion and the world watched goggle – eyed as the exes embarked on a mudslinging match of monstrous proportions even stooping low enough to play ping – pong with their child. It was a horror-tragi-comedy and folks couldn’t get enough of it. Though most are willing to be distracted if damnable iterations of Aurangzeb and the Godhra riots end up on the big screen for them to get frenzied about.

Meanwhile, the genocide in Gaza continues unabated, although irrefutable evidence of unspeakable war crimes have been exhaustively documented. Most look the other way because they are too squeamish to view the footage of babies and pregnant women being executed, the rape of male detainees with broomsticks, and Israel’s wanton destruction of homes, hospitals, schools, mosques, and churches. Besides, it has been over a year now and it is too sad, thereby entirely lacking amusement value. Ditto the war in Ukraine and the climate crisis. This sort of thing pricks the conscience and urges us to get off our backsides and do something to make the world a less hideous place. Nobody wants that. Trump and Elon Musk for all their faults are never boring. They offer paisa vasool fare. So what if they are hastening us towards inevitable doom? We don’t mind as long as we get our endorphin rush every step of the bloody way!

This article was originally published in TNIE Magazine

In Purposeless Pursuit of the One

 

When you refer to The One, there are many who will think of the really cute and supposedly nice Keanu Reaves who played Neo in the Matrix films. There are more than a few who will describe The One who is fated to be their soulmate enumerating endless impossible to emulate qualities ranging from the physical to the emotional and psychological to the Oedipal. A few will talk of The One who is prophesized to show up in a blaze of glory in this sinful world and set it straight. But most will think of The One as someone who is invaluable in their daily lives merely for being competent.

 The One who will deliver food on time without hawking up phlegm into it or getting hopelessly lost in Karnataka because he does not speak a word of Kannada or English. The One who will take your complaint regarding the Reverse Osmosis purifier at home, show up on time and fix it with that priceless trait called efficiency instead of doing irreparable damage to your already iffy mental health by failing to do the needful though you went down on hands and knees and pleaded with some bot and paid the annual rent for the penthouse which houses somebody 's mistress because somebody told you if you don't, your RO purifier is doomed and so are you!

The One who holds a given job because of the right qualifications and aptitude as opposed to a byproduct of a broken quota system which perpetuates the evils of caste and class privilege while claiming to do the opposite.

 Irrespective of which of The Ones you yearn for with every fibre of your being, the smart money is on this impossible quest ending in failure, frustration and a padded cell with restraints. This is because wielders of magic wands and heroes bearing lances can only do diddly squat in a world where incompetence has been weaponized thanks to endless greed and ever present entitlement.

 Everybody feels free to make a mess while nobody is willing to clean up. After themselves or others.  That is because if you do anything at all in a conscientious manner, you will be severely punished for the same with all the lazy asses out there dumping their chores, bills, and life's responsibilities on you simply because you are incapable of walking past a stubborn stain without wiping it clean. Thanks to things like a deeply ingrained sense of duty, a kind heart, or a low sense of self - worth one ends up becoming a beast of burden and everyone's b**ch. Simply performing the tasks that need performing comes with unfathomable risks that have sent many worker bees to an early grave and an eternity of drudgery in the section of hell reserved for hopeless schmucks. Not surprisingly, not many risk it.

 Which is why we have butchers playing doctors, pedophiles ending up in charge of children, hardened gangsters in charge of law and order, and the violent and criminally insane tasked with running entire nations. Meanwhile, we dream of The One. The One who doesn't exist outside a make believe world, where in addition to winged unicorns and chocolate rivers, people just do their jobs. And do it well.

This column was originally published in TNIE Magazine

Preternaturally Talented Pillai Teeters

 

In Gods, Guns and Missionaries, Manu Pillai takes on the monumental task of encapsulating the complex, ever – evolving mishmash of endless odds and ends that went into the making of the modern Hindu identity. Covering an unwieldy chunk of history from the time a few Jesuit monks were entertained by Akbar to the fledgling days of Hindutva under Savarkar, he casts a densely woven net that seeks to capture the past, present and likely future of Hinduism.

Exhaustively researched, with a notes section that is as lengthy as the book itself, Pillai highlights the role played by the Brahmin elites and the flexibility they evinced in remoulding religious tradition with a surpassing lack of scruples to serve the self or a Kshatriyan/Muslim/British overlord. Moving on, the reader gets a closer look at the myopic view of foreigners which veered between a romanticized version of Hinduism as a repository of spiritual treasures beyond measure or extreme notions of heathens who worshipped devilish deities, sacrificed babies and burnt women.

Hinduism, already reeling from persecution and proselytization struggled to survive the onslaught of foreign rule and rabid missionary zeal with its trademark reinvention and assimilation. But there was trouble within in the form of social evils like casteism or relatively harmless regional or individual approaches to the Hindu way of life, that defied the convenient idea of a monolithic religion that went strictly by the holy book. According to Pillai, Hindu scriptures like the Puranas acquired their fluid form not to meet present day scholarly strictures but to serve a higher purpose to ‘universalize what was provincial’. However, in attempting to carve out the Hindu identity from within the exacting framework of scholarship, he stumbles.   

Interestingly enough, despite stressing that ‘…while Puranic culture grew into a vast ocean, it is important to remember that the Brahmanical stream, no matter how big and forceful, still [represented] only one amongst numerous others flowing into it,’ he himself sticks largely to research material that is Brahmanical or Western or influenced by one or the other. Thus, authorial intent, notwithstanding, he is hamstrung by the same limitations.

This is made evident by Pillai’s omissions particularly in the chapter on Indian Luthers. He dwells at length on the lasting legacy of Hindu reformers like Rajah Ram Mohun Roy, Dayananda Saraswati as well as Jotirao Phule, Savitribai, B.G. Tilak and Savarkar. Among others, he fails to mention the Devadasis, that exploited and empowered class of danseuses and the work of activists like Dr. Muthulakshmi Reddy to ban the practise. Or the counter efforts of Rukmini Devi, Bangalore Nagarathnammal to restore their art to respectability, the repercussions of which are still felt. Periyar and Ambedkar barely get a mention.

It is an author’s prerogative to decide what is included in his book, but these choices are revealing, especially since it was the likes of Tilak and Savarkar, who laid the foundation for a more aggressive and exclusionary brand of Hinduism that is at odds with a pluralistic faith which has a history of being mostly accommodating and inclusive with a tolerant viewpoint that many a path can be taken to achieve oneness with the divine. As Pillai points out, Savarkar did not curry favour with the Hindu majority in his day, who were more swayed by the moderate Congress party. Why suggest that Savarkar’s views reign supreme today when the ground reality indicates that not much has changed with caste still holding sway and individual/regional idiosyncrasies ensuring that Hinduism retains its perennial shape – shifting qualities?

Many a British scholar or Catholic missionary was flummoxed by the vast gulf between scriptural guidelines and lived reality for most Hindus. This was probably because the average Hindu had little time or inclination to wade through the formidable ocean of the Vedas, Upanishads and weighty religious tomes in indecipherable Sanskrit and were content to smear ash on the forehead, mutter a mantra force – fed them by their mothers and drop in at a temple once in a while armed with flowers or coconuts and carry on with the business of living. This defines the vast majority of Hindus, then and now and one wonders if they give two hoots about the extremist views of Hindutvas or even Ram/Rakshasa rajya as there is little to choose between the two.

Admittedly, Manu Pillai is a brilliant historian capable of navigating the unforgiving terrain of Hindu history and lore with an uncanny ability to lay bare its complexities, but he still ends up presenting a limited view of Hindu identity seen through a prism of Brahmanical and Western documentation which in addition to academic heft has the inherent biases of the former and white liberal agenda of the latter which displays a prejudiced view of brown people that is as problematic as Right Wing WhatsApp University nonsense.

This book review was originally published in TNIE Magazine

The Incredibly Indian Way to Abide India

 

An exclusive quality of Indians living in India is the ability to look the other way when we ourselves are severely inconvenienced or presented with irrefutable evidence of social evils inflicted upon others. That is why we suck it up when freshly paved roads in residential areas are torn up to accommodate open drains on either side where stray pups drown, and people toss rubbish leading to clogging and the exacerbation of an already untenable situation. We grit our teeth and move on ignoring the potholed roads groaning under the weight of endless vehicles as we make perilous trips to our destinations, determinedly ignoring shouted insults, traffic jams, and inexcusable driving as people chat on their mobile phones and drive on the wrong side.

It is best to ignore these things. Like we do the stray dogs which pose a rabies risk and cows wandering around and inevitably ending up spattered across the windshields of truck drivers with rage issues brought on by haemorrhoids, they can’t afford to treat. Kids are getting abducted, and somebody is being raped and set alight in public and in broad daylight? Ignore. There may be crooked cops and politicians involved.

Pilgrims undertaking padayatras or thronging to immerse themselves in the confluence of sacred rivers feel free to behave as badly as they please, discarding trash over every inch of available space, causing stampedes, and blaming the government when devotees are crushed to death. Any criticism is not welcome because this is a religious matter, and we ought to be sensitive as opposed to sensible. So why bother? Besides, unlike in Gaza, we are not enabling genocide and the slaughter of children over religious claims and disputed holy lands, are we? India is better than that!

What about the poor? Those wretched folks who live in unsightly slums and practise open defecation when not begging, their umpteen babies with runny noses in tow or sleeping on pavements to be killed beneath imported wheels. They are everywhere, ruining the reputation of our country in front of those white tourists who click pics and make award – winning films about Slumdogs who are unlikely to become millionaires in this or subsequent lifetimes.

Some of us half - heartedly read reports about the fact that there are more billionaires than ever in India which still means there are countless people unable to make ends meet and live and die in grinding poverty despite the back breaking labour they are forced into. Focusing on issues like population explosion, unequal distribution of wealth and resources, corruption and governance, inadequate health care, social injustices etc is bound to give one a migraine. And what can we do?

We have our own problems. Most of us are neither Ambani nor Adani, and we need to find maids who will work for a pittance, send our kids to a school that does not charge an arm and a leg and both kidneys, make enough in this depressing economy to allow us to holiday at some exotic locale guaranteed to make the Insta fam jealous and buy more expensive trifles we don’t need. We carry on, uncaring that we can’t afford to go on this way. Ignoring pressing issues is a hard feat, but we manage it. Because that much at least, we can do.

This article was originally published in TNIE Magazine

An Open Letter to Insufferable Indians

 

Dear Indians,

Forget the New Year resolutions you made with impractical, turbo-enthusiasm to excavate the best version of yourselves from beneath the layers and layers of blubber and bullshit. Of course, most of you had impressive goals. These included flying all the way to the Trou aux Cerfs to livestream your guided tour of volcano craters and lava fields, discovering your life's passion, running into the love of your life at Muniyandi Mess, eating only organically sourced vegan food while training for the triathlon and giving up gadgets entirely because it rots what's left of your rapidly deteriorating brain. The noble aspirations are truly impressive but since you have done little more than write these down and stick it on the fridge proceeding to ignore it thereafter to focus on Instagram reels while chowing down on a bucket of KFC fried chicken and staying put on your recliner, the smart money says that your high flown aims shan't be achieved in the immediate or even distant future.

 Never fear, though. Republic day is just around the corner and it is entirely possible to reaffirm your commitment to making India Incredible again or at the very least, less irredeemable. Rather than sell your admittedly annoying neighbour's kidney on the black market to fund your trip to the Côte d'Azur, perhaps you could stay home for a change and take up meditation or lazing around. That way you don't have to humiliate hamara Motherland by being the typical unruly Indian tourist who puked in the pool after demolishing the buffet and tried to escape with  purloined products from the resort.

 Rather than trying to live it up by walking on our far from pristine shorelines or mountain trails with your boozehound buddies who carelessly discard their liquor bottles and risk maiming others, you could concentrate on sparing your liver and pavement dwellers amongst others by not drinking yourself into a stupor and getting behind the wheel of the imported Bugatti Centodieci your Benami Daddy bought you.

 A lot of you are convinced that all it takes to clear your crippling karmic debt thanks to a lifetime of depravity is frequent trips to places of worship with hordes of the similarly misguided risking the loss of lives due to stampede - friendly conditions. Perhaps you could eschew this unholy behaviour in favor of actually being nice, well  - behaved and the sort of citizen a nation can take pride in by cleaning up after yourself instead of leaving a mountain - high trail of garbage wherever you go and whatever you do. And if you must visit manmade dwelling places of the divine or even any public place refrain from shoving, spitting, or shouting. And do refrain from pissing or pooping anywhere outside a toilet.

 Remember, the odds of finding love are enhanced if you are loveable. And you can't be that if you make it a habit to stalk, molest or harass women. If you are a woman, do not file false cases and betray the feminist cause. Strive to do better fellow Indians. Mother India will thank and bless you!

Yours in EXASPERATION,

A DISGRUNTLED Indian

This article was originally published in TNIE Magazine

A Clarion Call amidst the Clamour of War

 

The world has been watching the genocide underway at Gaza, already reeling from the illegal land, air and naval blockade imposed by Israel since 2007. After the shocking events of October 7, 2023, when Hamas launched the ill – advised terror strikes against the Jewish communities on the Gaza border which claimed about 1200 lives and the taking of around 250 hostages, a disproportionately violent response was elicited from Israel. The unrelenting waves of warfare led to the deaths of around 45,000 people in Gaza, mostly civilians and children, saw many more injured, much of the Gaza strip reduced to rubble and its entire populace forcibly displaced from their homes, relegated to refugee status. For those struggling to grapple with the complex geopolitical realities that have led to this humanitarian crisis, Stanly Johny’s ‘Original Sin: Israel, Palestine, and the Revenge of Old West Asia’ is a timely guide that helps one connect the dots.

Based on his travels, interviews, research and observations of the ground reality as an International Affairs Editor with over a decade’s experience, Johny’s book attempts to trace the roots of this conflict, identify the main players in this foreign affairs nightmare and outline India’s evolving equation with Israel and Palestine. With a reporter’s clear-eyed yet empathetic gaze, he takes the reader back in time to key moments in history when the seeds for the present conflict were sown. Over a century ago, the Balfour Declaration was signed, with the British promising the Zionists a country in Palestine where the Arab natives made up over 90% of the population. This had a seismic effect, the reverberations of which are felt to the present day, Johny points out.

After World War II, the United Nations called for the partition of Palestine into Arab and Jewish states. The Arabs rejected this outright as 55% of Palestine had been handed over to the Jews along with the fertile coastal region. At the end of the 1948 war, Israel controlled 75% of Palestine including West Jerusalem, having defeated four Arab countries. For Palestinians, it was al Nakba - the catastrophe, as roughly 7,50,000 former inhabitants were violently dislodged and scattered by Zionist militias. In the Six – Day War of 1967, Israel captured all of Palestine and never gave it back, despite stiff resistance and armed conflict over the years.

Johny’s wry observations acquaint the reader with the political skullduggery and Machiavellian manoeuvring that resulted in the Ottoman empire (including Palestine) being carved up between Britain and France after WWII, and the disgraceful protocol of Sèvres where Israel, Britain, and France colluded against Egypt’s Gamal Abdel Nasser resulting in the transfer of Western influence in the region from the Europeans to the Americans. He also exposes the ‘myth of Arab unity’ with the Palestinian cause making it clear that nationalistic interests, ambition and sectarian fault lines usually trumps ideology and brotherhood. It is also apparent that even the so – called legitimate and recognized official bodies representing the Palestinians may be corrupt and self – serving, content to make moving speeches in international forums and pocket funds that keep pouring in from sympathizers, while allowing the situation to deteriorate.  

The profiles of the heads of state involved in this hot spot as well as key figures amongst the non – state actors such as Hezbollah, Hamas, Islamic Jihad etc. carefully constructed by Johny makes for riveting reading. Yitzhak Rabin’s transition from a soldier and Defence Minister who endorsed a typically heavy – handed ‘Break their Bones’ policy to the rare Israeli PM who advocated and worked hard for peace ultimately, paying for it with his life is a particularly affecting account.

The roles played by Iran, Jordan, Saudi Arabia and of course, the United States of America in this crisis as outlined by Johny is most telling – ‘The United States which is otherwise very vocal about human rights violations in Asia, Africa and Latin America, always overlooks allegations of war crimes levelled against Israel, even when they are backed by UN investigations’. The author can take a bow because ‘The Original Sin’ is that brave book which emphatically reports the truth as it is without kowtowing to higher powers seeking to establish a narrative that actively endorses genocide.

This book review originally appeared in TNIE magazine

Power Tripping with Pushpa

 

Pushpa 2: The Rule much like its predecessor has proven to be a box office behemoth while being entirely problematic in its unabashed celebration of toxic masculinity despite pretensions to the contrary. While enjoyable thanks to the towering talent of Allu Arjun playing Pushpa with his indefatigable charisma and the entertaining antics of Fahadh Faasil, who can play the villainous clown in his sleep, the film makes no bones about its commitment to catering to the slobbering troglodyte in all of us. This certainly explains Pushpa’s pan – Indian success, while underlining the fact that logic – defying though it is, the film does hold up a mirror to a society that is heedlessly plummeting to the depths of inequity and greed.

In the maximalist world of Pushpa, might and money makes everything right and groovy, not unlike the real world. The viewer is asked to sympathize with the red sandalwood smuggler protagonist because he is a bastard who is constantly harassed and humiliated by his legitimate half - sibling. Pushpa puts up with this though he has killed others without compunction for lesser offenses because he craves acceptance and respect for himself and his long – suffering mum and will stop at nothing to get what he feels is his due. But none of this alters the fact that he is a killer and gangster whose overblown pride can suffer no slight without demanding savage retribution. Yet this feral boy with the massively proportioned ego is celebrated as a God and is rewarded with the slavish devotion of his wife and loyal followers in whose eyes he can do no wrong.

Pushpa pees drunkenly into a pool to get even with an antagonist who sought to humble him and we are asked to cheer his sickening behaviour. Hardly surprising since there is no public place in India that is not treated as a urinal by Indian boys, and we are supposed to look the other way because this is just what boys do, even in doddering dotage.

The first film, Pushpa: The Rise drew flak for its portrayal of women as the weaker sex who need animalistic types to protect them from their bestial brethren when they are not being objectified outright. The latest edition tries to rectify its mistakes by giving the female lead played by Rashmika a rousing monologue about the glory of Pushpa, though it doesn’t hold back from shooting her at pornographic angles in the song sequences. She gets the part of the dream wife who despite rolling in money, spends her days cooking for her husband, singing his praises and performing her conjugal duties with gusto. Consequently, unlike what her character went through in Animal, another ode to the outsized male ego, Pushpa is faithful.

Of course, the film still views a woman’s body as a battlefield for rampaging male pride. It takes great pains to tell women, they are best suited to being the dutiful sidekick to the husband even if he is an unhinged lout or masturbatory fodder for infantile incels as aspiring for more will get them raped or killed. Yet another inedible dose that is the real truth in a fallen world. For all its flaws, Pushpa is inadvertently honest about what is but ought not to be.  

This article was originally published in TNIE Magazine

The Upshot of Trump’s Trans Pledge

 

President Trump has sworn to keep men out of women only spaces and sports, stop ‘child abuse’ in schools that offer puberty blockers, breast binders and other so – called gender affirming care to minors by threatening to cut off federal funding and warning that punitive action will be taken against medical practitioners who perform sex – change procedures. He also insisted that he will make the US Government recognise only two genders (he means sexes) – male and female.

Trans activists and The American Civil Liberties Union will fight these policies in court, but one wonders if they will prevail given that Trump has been given an overwhelming mandate and has the Senate as well as Congressional majority which will allow him to stack the Supreme Court as he sees fit. Gender ideology may not have been the only factor that tipped the scales in favour of Trump, but it certainly was a major one. Especially when Trump’s campaign aired an advert with the wildly popular tagline, ‘Kamala is for they/them. President Trump is for you’ that promptly went viral.

Kamala Harris sought to win over the women voters by bringing up the great abortion debate but ironically, Trump who has repeatedly been accused of sexual assault emerged as the crusader who would safeguard women’s rights and protect them from men who identify as women. The trans issue which saw the Dems greenlight questionable procedures and policies while ignoring or cancelling women who protested, might have been the straw that broke the back of the moderates or centrists and made Trump voters out of them.

Trump is right to address some of these concerns particularly with regard to troubled kids whose parents have been demonised in their eyes by gender idealogues who encourage them to undergo irreversible medical treatments with little proven benefits, without considering the far – reaching physical and psychological ramifications. But rolling back trans rights in its entirety is extreme and unfair.

Many female athletes feel the Olympic bosses let them down long before the Imane Khelif gender row. Their concerns are valid since scientifically, athletes who are intersex or have DSD (Difference of Sexual Development) meaning they appear to be girls at birth but have an internal testis, may have an unfair edge over biological females. This also applies to men who have transitioned. But one cannot help but recall that Indian athletes like Santhi Soundarajan, Dutee Chand and Pinki Pramanik were humiliated and traumatized over ‘failed’ gender tests, that makes one sympathetic to their plight.  

Women who complain about men in skirts being allowed access to female only spaces putting them at risk, make a crucial point especially since no woman anywhere in the world is safe from the threat of rape. But the trans community has endured privation and oppression for too long. Denying them their hard-won rights is cruel and cannot be endorsed in good conscience. We must work twice as hard to create a world that honours women’s as well as trans rights. To do that we need not veer between the extreme right or left but create a space somewhere in the middle where peaceful coexistence is possible, provided we act with common sense and conscientiousness.

This article was originally published in TNIE Magazine

Witness a Warrior Wrestle with Wickedness

 

To its credit, Olympic bronze medallist, Sakshi Malik’s momentous memoir - Witness, does not bother with pussyfooting around what was and is an explosive issue. The Olympian’s style on and off the wrestling mat is simple, straightforward, brutally effective and savagely spectacular. With Jonathan Selvaraj, Sakshi takes no prisoners as she goes after not just the likes of Brij Bhushan Sharan Singh and Amit Shah, but even fellow wrestlers like Vinesh Phogat, Bajrang Punia, Babita Phogat, her own mother (with whom there was an eventual rapprochement) and going so far as to almost but not quite accuse a fellow competitive wrestler of witchcraft. But that’s Sakshi for you.

The reader is taken on a whirlwind journey across Sakshi’s life which is one of strife, triumph, love, loss, tragedy and redemption. It has the vim and verve of a blockbuster while being grounded in raw emotion which is unlikely to leave even the most jaded of readers unmoved. She is as every bit as hard on herself as she is with those who have crossed her. In a poignant portion of her recollections, she reveals how her 7 – year old self would occasionally steal money from her classmates, driven to do so by her poverty. This excuse is trotted out to explain but not defend her actions. Years later when she herself becomes a victim of robbery on multiple occasions, Sakshi philosophizes that it is karma catching up with her. She is also hyper – critical of the ‘mental weakness’ that saw her struggle to stay competitive and relevant in a cutthroat world and her arms which she maligns for being too muscular, with 14 – inch thick biceps.

A rousing saga of a superstar athlete who overcame overwhelming odds to carve out a story of stupendous success, Witness is also a stark, unsparing account of the terrible corruption and incompetence of the sporting system in India. We get a close-up view of fat cat officials and state – approved thugs who far from helping athletes are committed to being hindrances at every turn. Readers will be appalled to learn about officials stopping bouts at the most inopportune moments for photo – ops or to allow a favoured athlete to win over the deserving one, abysmal conditions in training facilities and tournaments held in arenas lacking basic amenities, flight tickets being belatedly booked which sees competitors reaching the international venue a couple of hours before crucial match – ups, money donated from sponsors which would guarantee a regular income for sportspeople being swallowed up by the larcenists in the system, the sexual harassment of female athletes and the active sabotage of entire careers if anyone protests, with the ruling party taking the part of the villains over the sons and daughters of India who covered her in sporting glory despite the very Indian nature of their troubles. It is a modern Indian far-from–a-fairytale of evil triumphing over good, though we all declare otherwise for fear of being labelled anti – national.

Brij Bhushan Singh is not quite the super villain to Sakshi’s Wonder Woman. Rather, in Witness, he represents every lowlife who has ever been undeservedly promoted to power and seeks to compensate for his glaring inadequacies and utter lack of even a modicum of merit by doubling down on the worst of his impulses which includes molesting minors, because he knows he will be protected by other hooligans in high places, just like him. Scathing as her condemnation of Singh and even the Prime Minister is, Sakshi makes it clear that it was the cracks that emerged from within their own ranks that also contributed to the undoing of the wrestlers’ protests. However, she is confident, that the good fight is still being fought, and it will not be long before justice is served. Of course, that is doubtful to say the least, but we can also dare to believe like Sakshi herself did at her lowest, that victory can be eked out of crushing defeat, and it is the deserving who will finally emerge as the victors.

This book review was originally published in TNIE Magazine

The Role of Trauma in enabling Genocide

 

The unpacking of trauma is supposed to be therapeutic. Gone are the days when everyone buried their emotional garbage somewhere in the substratum spaces of the sub – consciousness. This was the done thing in personal and public spheres, worthy of the Beast of Traal, that mind – bogglingly stupid creature which assumes that if you cannot see it, it cannot see you. Nowadays, it is considered healthy to commemorate tragedy, by talking about it constantly, reliving every excruciating moment, and inviting others to share in the agonizing experience.

Few things have more traction on social media than tragedy. When disaster strikes, it is time to celebrate for those looking to gain more followers and instant celebrity. If they play their cards just right with the right amount of bad taste and ruthless manipulation of emotions, there could be a lucrative movie or book deal in there or a jumpstart to a soul -sapping career as an influencer or gatherer of torture porn.

This exacerbation of suffering is usually done in the interest of constructing a narrative of victimhood. When sufficiently politicized and weaponized, it serves to allow so - called victims to feel perfectly justified in victimizing others. We see evidence of this sickening new trend everywhere. All one needs to do nowadays to get away with everything including mass murder is to manufacture a real or imagined fable celebrating victimhood and mourning tragedies dredged up from the past.

The use and abuse of tragedy to inflict even more tragedy is an art form that Israel seems to have perfected. The rogue state’s propaganda machine has been working overtime to mark the one – year anniversary of the savage October 7^th  terrorist attack made by Hamas, where hundreds of Israelis were captured or killed, equating it to the holocaust. In this version, the Israeli government which seems less intent on securing the hostages and more committed to committing genocide in Gaza is keen to portray the righteousness of Israel and insists on full support from its global superpower ally – the USA and the rest of an appalled world since to do otherwise would be unforgivably anti – semitic. Goebbels would be proud!

The Palestinians have been aggressively displaced, killed outright or forced to live in subhuman conditions for decades now. The inhabitants of Gaza have endured an Israeli blockade since 2007. After October 7^th, Israel’s brutal retaliation has resulted in tens of thousands of Palestinians including infants being slaughtered while the rest of the world merely watched. The conflict continues to escalate with Israel detonating entire apartment blocks in Beirut to take out Hezbollah (another terrorist outfit, spawned by Israeli misdeeds) leader, Nasrallah, and using cutting edge technology to decimate their enemies with remote controlled – devices, forcing Iran to enter the fray.

There doesn’t seem to be a peaceful resolution to the war in West – Asia but Israel must not be allowed to use the Holocaust excuse to justify the ongoing Nakba. Terrorism in any form cannot be condoned but the causal agents of evil are guilty too. The rest of the world needs to wake up from woke mode, to tamp down on this chain reaction of genocidal violence and restore peace.

This article was originally published in TNIE Magazine

RAZING RAPE CULTURE

 

The horrific RG Kar case involving the brutal rape and murder of a 31 – year – old trainee doctor in Kolkata and the shocking story about Dominique Pelicot, the 71 – year – old, on trial in France, for drugging his wife, Gisele and recruiting men from an online chatroom to rape her has forced the spotlight back on the lack of safety for women at home and work. The depressing thing about sex crimes is that it just keeps happening without pausing for breath and women continue to be at the receiving end of unspeakable cruelties.

In Gisele’s case, despite having been subjected to this horrendous abuse which was meticulously recorded for nearly a decade where she was raped more than 90 times and her husband allowed an HIV – positive man to rape her six times, she as well as her daughter, Darian who was told that a folder labelled “Around my daughter, naked” had been discovered on her father’s computer, have remained magnificently defiant and waived their right to anonymity insisting that ‘shame changes sides’. The police have identified 50 of the suspects, who are on trial. The defendants face up to 20 years in jail for aggravated rape if convicted.

Contrast this with the RG Kar case, where the systemic failure of the state machinery has been exposed. The Supreme Court has criticized the Kolkata police for their failure to conduct a prompt investigation, allowing a mob to vandalise the hospital and using force against peaceful protestors. This disheartening scenario reminds us of too many rape and murder cases where victims fail to get justice. Conviction rates are low, perpetrators have no fear of punishment and may be seen posing with politicians, when they are not roaming around freely despite having serious allegations against them.

This cannot go on. If small instances of criminal conduct against women and girls are not curtailed, then this prevalent environment which fosters rape and other violent acts will remain unchanged. Men who piss in public, openly leer at women, harass them, and engage in catcalling, voyeurism, frotteurism and unsolicited sexting without bothering about things like decency clearly mark themselves as future sex offenders whose crimes are likely to worsen. Strict action needs to be taken but these offenses are treated as amusing trifles since men will be men and women who complain are hyper-paranoid harpies who just can’t handle ‘harmless fun’.

These so – called lesser offenses reveal the deep-rooted nature of the problem in a society where female infanticide is common because girls are viewed as burdens and liabilities. They fall in love, get themselves raped and bring ‘dishonour’ to the family or put a strain on the family finances because marrying them off entails entertaining exorbitant dowry demands. If they remain single and work for a living, they are misfits who are asking for ‘it’. In this insalubrious climate, women who are not raped and killed are stuck in a living hell where they are undervalued and unwanted, unless it is as meat puppets to be used to slake the venal desires of base men. But #NotAllMen. Thank goodness for small mercies.

This article was originally published in TNIE Magazine

Embracing the chaos: Why a rigid routine for success might be overrated

 A week after the Olympics, I find myself unable to get over it. There were too many heart-rending, gut-wrenching, pelvis-clenching tales of guts and glory. These Olympians train with the white hot fury of true champs. They put their bodies through a world of gruelling grief to go faster, higher and stronger. It makes the rest of their Homo sapien brethren feel like chumps for not biohacking their way to superlative fitness.

These hyper-driven, iron-willed, muscle-bound overachievers log in countless hours at the gym, adhere to terrifying dietary restrictions, and wrestle with personal and professional demons so that they may flaunt bodies with zero per cent body fat and perfect that coldblooded, killing precision soon to be patented by Novak Djokovic. All in the hope that there is a gold medal in their future, which will ensure they make pots of money and become future trivia questions who can afford to actually live in the castles formerly built in their heads.

In a bid to emulate these superior specimens of humankind before we forget about them entirely, I have put together a foolproof, perfectly structured routine, designed to make dazzling achievers out of even those most inclined to be lazy bums. The trick is to get up at the same time everyday, somewhere between or before or after 6 am and 6 pm.

Fuel up on caffeine, your best buddy, and ignore health and wellness influencers who insist it is your worst enemy. While sipping the brew of champions, daydream like you mean it. Visualise all the dazzling things future you is going to achieve in order to make it happen. It is also a way to do so much without doing a thing.

You are what you eat. Which means you are FUBAR. Everything you eat and don’t eat will give you cancer or its equivalent. The only solution is to go back in time to a remote past before pesticides, pollution and plastics ruined everything to source wholesome meals. Since that is not possible, eat whatever you fancy. Or not. It doesn’t matter.

Exercise is important. But you are doing it wrong because whether you do it inside, outside, standing up, lying down or seated, it is proving detrimental to overall wellbeing. Your organs are messed up anyway by microplastics which are everywhere and there is no fixing the situation or the organs. I would recommend more sleep but that is as bad for you as sitting, walking, running and squatting, because you are not doing it right. The same goes double for breathing or just being.

Because as normal people, who spend all the time with their noses buried butt-deep in smartphones, it is impossible to keep up with all the contradictory health info that can save your life. Or screw it up irrevocably. Therefore it makes sense to stick to my routine of floating around somewhere between doing everything that can humanly be managed and nothing at all between napping and daydreaming. Because a life that depends on medals to make it meaningful is bound to be entirely meaningless.

Dealing with the Dark Truth behind Dazzling Talent

 

We live in a world where celebs are universally adored, worshipped even. Inordinate attention is paid to everything they do outside of what made them famous in the first place. Their personal lives are intensely scrutinized by Stans who want to know what they eat, their pet’s potty schedule, and every excruciating detail about the lancing of the boil on their chosen idol’s butt. To the fanatic’s starstruck gaze, celebs are unimpeachable.

It is becoming routine for devotees to suffer a complete nervous breakdown and experience implacable rage, when their God or Goddess is revealed to be just another flawed human being. That beneath the razzle – dazzle and flim -flammery of superstardom, there is the usual unsightly warts, dirt under the overprized rug, and gleaming skeletons in closets that renders all humans as mostly indistinguishable from each other. Not many can admit as much… whether they have been inhaling hydrogen peroxide on Samantha’s recommendation, steaming their vaginas because Gwyneth Paltrow says so or feeling broken and unable to engage with Alice Munro’s short fiction after the shocking revelations made by her youngest daughter – Andrea Skinner, who wrote about how her mother had chosen to stay with her stepfather till he died despite knowing that he had sexually assaulted her when she was 9, continued to do so well into her teens before brazenly admitting to it and accusing her of seducing him.

When ugly secrets about legends are exposed, their admirers feel forced to pledge fealty to the cancel culture club lest extremists on the left insist that liking Neruda or Polanski is akin to supporting the rape of minors and reading Harry Potter makes you an enemy of trans people. Knowing about the creator’s crimes may cast the creation in a different light but enjoying it doesn’t make one a criminal or complicit in a crime. Saying otherwise is simply imprudent and indicative of a repressive cultural environment that is likely to see the emergence of modern day Savonarolas, who only see wickedness in art if the artist does not have a good conduct certificate and will condemn it to the Bonfire of Vanities.

Cultural conscience keepers would disagree, insisting that the inner lives of artists spill over into art and if the former is morally corrupt, then so is the latter. That engaging with the product of vice is tantamount to endorsing evil. However, in these tricky cases, it is not merely a simplistic question of separating art from the artist. It is about accepting that nothing or no one is completely good or bad. That people who are extraordinarily good at their job might be unacceptably flawed in some areas of their personal life. Burying good art on the strength of an artist’s bad deeds is doing the world a disservice. As rational human beings, it might be best to desist from becoming excessively enamoured of greats in their chosen fields and to engage with their work or not based solely on its merits or the lack of it. That is the Goldilocks zone and is just right since it isn’t too much or too little.

This piece 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.