New Life, new reading

I have been reading some very well written stories by Vijai Dan Detha, described as 'one of India's most iconic and iconoclastic writers', and as they say in that burger ad, 'I'm lovin' it.'

One of Detha's earlier stories was made into the Bollywood film 'Paheli'

The book I'm absorbed in is  'New Life', and the cover story, so to speak, is a good example of queer literature. A girl is brought up by her greedy father as a man. and believes that she is male, until after her wedding ... and then... it's a wonderfully potent tale with mustaches, male egos, ghosts, and even a sex change ...

The stories are actually Rajasthani and Gujjar folktales, and it's refreshing to read these subaltern stories.

My favourite line in the book  "If women marry each other, then men will have to look for a rat hole"

       "(Queer literature is) any writing written by dominant or marginalized groups that moves beyond the boundaries of heterosexism."       

I recommend Queer Ink

Queer Literature is finally coming out of the closet in India, but it's still very difficult to access books in 'mainstream' shops, more so in small town India.

A decade or so ago, one of my short stories appeared in 'Yaarana' - a Penguin Anthology, and the first time I got to read it was when journalist Vikram Doctor graciously presented me a copy [via courier]. The book was unavailable in bookstores in Patna, at the time.

A recent assignment for me - a talk on Queer Literature in India at Patna University - evidently meant a certain amount of research and reading, and that is where I discovered Queer Ink - a repository, a storehouse ..  of excellent material: academic discourses, novels, poetry collections. Queer Ink is an e-store that specialises in Queer Literature.

I recently acquired Mahesh Natrajan's The Pink Sheep, and other books that I wanted to own, just by excercising the mouse and a few clicks - and delivery was fantastically fast.

Service is efficient, personalised, and professional.

Shobna S Kumar, whose photograph appears here,  runs Queer Ink.

She said in an interview,"There are younger, newer writers coming on the scene, and publishers too are taking a chance. More queer fiction has come out in the last two years than ever before. It shows society is changing and that there is a market for such books."

Amen to That!

Before the Sandstorm

Silence.

The desert at dead of night
Immense,
Empty,


Eternal


Stretching away
Dune after black dune


Shrouding dead emotions
Lying entombed in the dark.


Silence.

But for the whisper
Like a ghost of a smile


That rides the chill blackness


Resquiscat in Pace
Not dead, but sleeping.

Silence.
Tread softly here


Lest the long forgotten taste of wine
Sunshine and laughter


Passion and pain


The feel of your body
The sting of my tears


Those long buried phantoms
Awake


And arise


And live
And shriek


And storm


And rend the placid stillness of the night.


Silence!

I am the desert,
The sand dune,
The graveyard,


The night


What care I for the tinkle of camel bells
Or the flame burning in your makeshift little tent?


- Frank Krishner, Gangtok, Sikkim, 1 October 1991
Note: one of several poems between 1989 and 1991 with the desert motif, coming out from travels in Rajasthan and along the Sind border.

Working Class Heroes at the Art College

 Imagine, Working Class Hero, being sung at the Government College of Arts and Crafts in parochial little Patna - and hats off to the people who made it possible.

The answer my friend, is blowing in the wind ... we're reaching back to the good old sixties when Patna University was a bright star in the firmament of education, and what better way to witness it than to see young college students rediscover the beauty of the  passions of that era.

Yesterday, [Saturday,19th Feb] saw a unique little event unfold at the Government College of Arts and Crafts: an English Poetry Reading session organised by a group of students, attended by people who appreciate poetry in English: and it was a remarkable evening indeed.

Apart from a selection of poems, we were treated to the poetry of the legendary John Lennon and Robert Zimmerman aka Bob Dylan, sung to the rhythm of a hollow guitar.

The group calls itself Grafitti, and they have entusiasm written all over.

It's time for us to support such endeavours.
To bring back to Patna, its long lost cosmopolitan culture.
Thanks, Prof Pandey, the Principal of the College of Arts and Crafts, for encouraging such activities on campus.

Do you Love me?

My choice for the number one Valentine's Day song of the year is 'Do you love me'
from the musical 'Fiddler on the Roof'
It was the first song I listened to [and watched] this morning.
Topol and Norma Crain sing the song in the movie
It made my day.....
(Tevye)
"Golde, I have decided to give Perchik permission to become engaged to our daughter, Hodel."

(Golde)

"What??? He's poor! He has nothing, absolutely nothing!"

(Tevye)

"He's a good man, Golde.

I like him. And what's more important, Hodel likes him. Hodel loves him.

So what can we do?

It's a new world... A new world.

 Love.
Golde..."

Do you love me?

(Golde)
Do I what?

(Tevye)
Do you love me?

(Golde)
Do I love you?

With our daughters getting married
And this trouble in the town
You're upset, you're worn out
Go inside, go lie down!


Maybe it's indigestion

(Tevye)

"Golde I'm asking you a question..."

Do you love me?

(Golde)

You're a fool

(Tevye)

"I know..."

But do you love me?

(Golde)

Do I love you?

For twenty-five years I've washed your clothes
Cooked your meals, cleaned your house
Given you children, milked the cow

After twenty-five years, why talk about love right now?

(Tevye)

Golde, The first time I met you
Was on our wedding day

I was scared
(Golde)

I was shy
(Tevye)
I was nervous

(Golde)
So was I

(Tevye)
But my father and my mother
Said we'd learn to love each other

And now I'm asking, Golde

Do you love me?

(Golde)
I'm your wife

(Tevye)
"I know..."
But do you love me?

(Golde)

Do I love him?


For twenty-five years I've lived with him
Fought him, starved with him


Twenty-five years my bed is his

If that's not love, what is?

(Tevye)
Then you love me?

(Golde)
I suppose I do

(Tevye)
And I suppose I love you too

(Both)
It change a thing
But even so

After twenty-five years
It's nice to know

To the Object of my Affection

Valentine's day is on a Blue Monday, and most of us people who have to get out there and earn a living may not have time to take the day off and be with the object of one's affection.

The evening would be a good time to have a Valentine Day's bash, call a load of attractive couples over and have a party celebrating your togetherness. It sure beats the hell out of eating in an overpriced, overcrowded restaurant any day.

When the object of your affection isn't in the same town as you are, well, 'the telephone can take the place of his smile' as the song goes, and with all the doo-dads on your smart mobile phones, a long distance date isn't entirely impossible, is it?

Of course those of you, who like me ,are in love with the idea of love, and for those who are in non-commital relationships,[ like a couple of dozen persons of varying ages, sexes, proclivities whom I know, and who regularly drop in to read this blog.. nudge nudge], here's an idea: spend the evening with some great love stories on celluloid.

Here's my list:
Mamma Mia [it's a party every time I watch this flick]
The Bird Cage [It's all about what love really is, underneath the campiness of the characters]
An Affair to Remember [You know why]
Rent [Love isn't all about mush and happy endings]
Love Story [It's about mush and lots of wet handkerchiefs]
The Object of my Affection [we love it, this one]

The Fiddler on the Roof [yes, this is a love flick, three love stories and the classic songs, 'Golde... do you love me?', Matchmaker, Sunrise Sunset... and most of all this is a story about a man's love relationship with his Maker ....]

Happy Valentine's Day

Karate Kids in Sarkari Skools

I took this photograph in a government school in Gaya District, Bihar, India. The Government of Bihar has started an innovative scheme in middle schools- teaching girls karate. Sheela Kumari is the girl in the white uniform on the right.

These students are primarily from very poor families, the children of labourers and marginalised communities.
At the Kasturba Gandhi Balika Vidyalaya (KGBV) in Barachetti, Gaya District, the students are from among the most economically backward in the area. Their parents are marginal cultivators, woodcutters, or ‘stone-breakers’, eking out an existence. Most of these girls are first generation literates.


Sheela Kumari’s father Dhaneshwar Ravidas and mother Bimala Devi work at a stone-crushing outfit, breaking stones into gravel by hand. She entered the KGBV in 2007, in the fifth grade. The next year, she was introduced to karate, and she took a liking to it. On the 4th June this shy twelve year old participated in the SMA cup Open Championship in Singapore. She was one of a team of 6 girls chosen from government schools running the Karate programme.

The Singapore trip was beyond Sheela’s wildest dreams. In fact, the thought that their daughter was being sent to another country struck near terror into her parents. They were afraid, and it was only after a lot of persuasion from her teachers that they gave their consent. “I was afraid too, but my teachers said it would be all right. When I returned, my parents were very happy to see me back, and the people in my village asked me a lot of questions. Nobody had ever climbed onto a plane, and so for some time everybody wanted to ask me questions.”

[I'll post more of this soon on my other blog, 'Frank Opinons']

Discussions on Education 2

The arguments that private schools have against the 25 percent free quota for underpriviliged kids [the Right to Education Act in India stipulates that private elementary schools enrol neighbourhood kids from the underbelly of society, so to speak] are all made with the 'best interests' of the poor kids at 'heart'.
Here are some objections:

1- The kids will never be able to cope with the 'English Medium' background of the school, and the parents will not be able to help the child with homework at home.
This doesn't seem a problem when middle class non-speakers of angrezi seek admission for the child.
How do the other non-English speaking kids pick up the lingo within a span of a year? Presumably by practicising the language within the school, isn't it?
What are first graders doing with loads of homework anyway? Hello, they're six year olds!

The underpriviliged kids will not be able to afford the uniforms.
Then why have expensive uniforms and designer school satchels with your school emblem all over? Ensure that all kids wear cheap and easily affordable uniforms. That should bring about uniformity and do away with dress code discrimination.

The real questions, the bothersome ones, remain unasked.

First, the draft Bihar rules under the ACT, have subverted the spirit of the Law.

Under the Act, the NCPCR [the National Commission for the Protection of Child Rights] is the final arbiter for matters of infringement on matters of admissions, facilities, and recognition/ de-recognition of schools.

In Bihar, the SCPCR [the state commission] has been sidelined, with the State Rules placing powers in the hand of the bureaucrats and Education Department functionaries.

This will lead to even more corruption and drag private schools into the great government inefficiency net.

This is what should really bother private citizens, educators, and school principals.

Why have civil society organisations been ignored and sidelined in the Rules?
What about government schools that do not follow the norms, will they be closed down and derecognised? Why aren't  there penalities for government schools in the Rules?
Will this 25 percent free education quota include the already existing SC/ST quotas?

Why hasn't the issue of child safety been clearly defined in the rules and made applicable to all schools including the government ones?

If there is a government school and two private schools within the same one kilometre range, how will 'neighbourhood' be defined? Or will the government school offload  its kids into the private schools?

In the above example, who decides where to have the kids enrolled and what are the guidelines?

email me the ring

Yesterday, I received an 'invitattion' to a wedding - after all this is the 'laggan' season in North India - by email. The cheap chappie who's getting hitched demonstrated his 'noveau savviness' by ' inviting' everyone on his contacts list with:

 Dear all,
It gives me immense pleasure to inform you that I am getting married with [bride's name]. We request you to come on our wedding and bless us both with your presence on this auspicious day of our life.
The wedding is to be held in Lucknow on the 11th of March.
With best regards
[name and mobile number]
 

As one who belongs to that school of thought in which  a wedding is supposed to be a monumentous, private occassion for valued friends and family, an invitation sent in this way is the height of boorish behaviour. It actually says [1] My wedding is no big deal [2] I don't really care who comes [3] Actually, I don't really want you guys to turn up.

 

Any more thoughts on this one?

Gorkha Land?

Another indefinite Bundh call from the Gorkhaland Janmukti Morcha.
For what?
There was a time, maybe three decades ago, when I believed that the hill people of Darjeeling should have their own State. I supported the idea of separation from Bengal.
Then came Subash Ghising and his violent struggles that held the hills to ransom.
In Sikkim, we suffered.
Every Bundh and strike in 'Gorkhaland' meant that essential commodities in Sikkim would become scarce.
And then there came the autonomous Gorkhaland district Hill Council headed by Ghisingh.
Not much good came of that, did it? Deforestation continued. Water sources continued to dwindle. Unemployment soared. The frustrated youth turned more violent, and used more drugs.
And now, this 'new' agitation, by this 'new' group of people. again in the name of the 'people' of the hills.

Another 'absolute leader' is born.
Somehow, after the brutal assassination  of Madan Tamang last year, I don't see any hope for the hills of Darjeeling, especially not the way things are shaping up.
Now, when the hills are at their most beautiful, the people of the hills should be allowed to get on with their lives, welcome the tourists, open up the shops, but all this violence brings is a bitter hunger.
Sikkim, once again suffers, thanks to the disturbed areas of Siliguri, and the curfew and violence along the highway that's the only artery to the former Himalayan kingdom. 

La Marteniere Ruckus

For quite some time now, friends have been asking me about my views on the La Marteniere case in Calcutta.
A boy, Rouvanjit, was found hanging at his Alipore home, four days after being caned.
The father, an influential fellow [after all, many La Mart's parents are from the upper crust], lodged a complaint with Shakespeare Sarani police station, accusing the teachers of abetting his son’s suicide.

While I hold no brief for caning, [and it's become so bloody politically incorrect in certain circles to even suggest that a kid may actually benifit from a firm whack or two on his behind administered judiciously] may I say that the case should have been thrown out of the window in the first place.
If caning led to kids committing suicide, then over the past 100 years, there should have been hundreds of kids who ended up hanging from trees, rooftops, lavatories and what not.

I remember that when we were in school, and didn't do our mathematics homework, the teacher had this habit of sending offenders straight to the principal's office, school diary in hand. Dear old Father Tucker would give us two whacks with his jaipur sugar cane, one on each hand, and send us off. When he left to become Principal of the Tashi Namgyal Academy, on the specuial invtation of the Chogyal, to instil discipline in Sikkim's premier school, another priest, named George Karakunnel SJ became principal at St Xavier's Doranda. The kids enthusiastically called him 'Georgie Porgie' -- now this principal believed in the six-of-the-best remedy. You bend down and he whacked you on your sitting apparatus, and you left his office with a warm afterglow. He whacked the boys large and small, first-time offenders and seasoned rogues, alike.

No doubt, for us so-called 'good students', it was a frightful and shameful thing... going to the principal's office and getting a whack, and we tried our best to avoid such occurances. Our parents, thankfully had their heads screwed on in the right way, and if they came to know that we'd been whacked, they'd just say we deserved it, and would withold our pocket money as well.

Well, in the seven years I was in the school, and for several years after that, we didn't have a single suicide! Ergo, caning doesn't lead to suicide... and certainly not four days after the fact.
It's a load of poppycock.

[This in no way is to condone  inhuman treatment of students by teachers, such as hitting them with dusters, whacking them over the head, and such .. but to blame this particular kid's suicide on a caning incident that's four days old is a load of hogwash.]

How Little Zach became a Mathematical Genius

I'm in a sharing mood today, and this is another item from my box of old treasures.

Now, Zachary was a little Jew boy, living in small town America ...


Little Zachary was doing very badly in math.


His parents had tried everything...tutors, mentors,
flash cards, special learning centers.

In short, everything they could think of to help his math.



Finally, in a last ditch effort, they took Zachary down and enrolled him In the local Catholic school.

After the first day, little Zachary came home with a very serious look on his face. He didn't even kiss his mother hello. Instead, he went straight to his room and started studying.

Books and papers were spread out all over the room and little Zachary was hard at work. His mother was amazed. She called him down to dinner.

To her shock, the minute he was done, he marched back to his room without a word, and in no time, he was back hitting the books as hard as before.

This went on for some time, day after day, while the mother tried to understand what made all the difference.

Finally, little Zachary brought home his report Card.. He quietly laid it on the table, went up to his room and hit the books.
With great trepidation, His Mom looked at it and to her great surprise, Little Zachary got an 'A' in math. She could no longer hold her curiosity..

She went to his room and said, 'Son, what was it? Was it the nuns?'
Little Zachary looked at her and shook his head, no..

 'Well, then,' she replied, Was it the books?

'No!'

'The discipline?'

'No!'

'The structure, the uniforms?'

'No!'

'Then, WHAT is IT?'

Little Zachary looked at her and said,

'Well, on the first day of school when I saw that guy nailed to the plus sign, I knew they weren't fooling around.'