On the ghats of Kashi, the most ancient of cities, a woman confronts memories that have pursued her through birth and rebirth. In the life she recalls, she Shakuntala of the northern mountains-spirited, imaginative, but destined like her legendary namesake to suffer ‘the samskaras of abandonment’. Stifled by social custom, hungry for experience, she deserts home and family for the company of a Greek horse merchant she meets by the Ganga. Together, they travel far and wide and surrender to unbridled pleasure, as Shakuntala assumes the identity of Yaduri, the fallen woman. But an old restlessness compels her to forsake this life as well-and court tragedy.
Archives: Books
Last Bungalow
Located at the confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna and the invisible Saraswati, Allahabad, or ‘Godville’ -the ‘babu’ translation of the name that Mark Twain came across-has been frequented by pilgrims for two thousand years. However it was only towards the latter half of the nineteenth century that Allahabad shed its identity as another dusty north Indian town and emerged as one of the premier cities of the Raj and the capital of the North-West Provinces. This metamorphosis, ironically, was brought about by colonial rule, whose beginnings Fanny Parkes has described at great length. Allahabad was the home not only of the Pioneer, where Kipling was employed, but also of literary figures like Harivansh Rai Bachchan and Suryakant Tripathi ‘Nirala’. Its university, one of the oldest in the country, attracted students from far and wide.Visited by the Buddhist scholar Hsiuan Tsang in the seventh century, the city is today visited by spiritual con men and con women, as well as ordinary pilgrims, who come to attend the Magh and
Kumbh Melas. As Kama Maclean’s essay shows, far from being an ancient religious festival, the Kumbh Mela, which is held every twelve years, originated as recendy as
the 1860s.
Colonial Allahabad, along with the intellectual energy that colonialism generated, has all but disappeared. The bungalows have gone, and so have the last of those who inhabited them. Their descendants can only recall a lost time.
In 1824, Bishop Heber wrote that Allahabad was a ‘desolate and ruinous’ place. Three years later, Mirza Ghalib compared it to hell, only hell was better. But for Jawaharlal Nehru,Allahabad was where he was born and where he cut his political teeth; for Nayantara Sehgal, it was a model for civilized living; for Ved Mehta, it was, like other Indian cities, ‘a jumble of British, Muslim, and Hindu influences’; for Saeed Jaffery, it was a place where a good time could be had, while one picked up a decent education; for Gyanranjan, it was a city one could fall in love with in one’s youth; for I. Allen Sealy, it was his parents’ home town, a reservoir of family lore.
The Last Bunglow: Writings on Allahabad is a memorial to a now forgotten city, whose rise was as meteroic as its fall.
The Barn Owl’s Wondrous Capers
Eighteenth-century Calcutta. The second city of the Empire is teeming with scandalous gossip and rumour. Abravanel Ben Obadiah Ben Aharon Kabariti, Sephardic Jew from Syria and trader in novelties such as corsets, aphrodisiacs and zebras, befriends the British officers and the local elite by day and records their escapades by night in a leather-bound journal.
1950s Paris. A battered copy of the journal surfaces in a hole-in-the-wall antique shop in Montmartre.
London, 2002. A phone rings in the East End, late at night, announcing a death and an inheritance: a silver lighter, a vintage motorcycle, an ancient radio and The Barn Owl’s Wondrous Capers.
What follows is a bizarre chain of events involving eccentric zamindars, a decadent aristocrat with a passion for lady footballers, a psychic cartographer, a haunted office building and, at the centre of it all, Digital Dutta, neighbourhood historian and keeper of secrets.
Inspired by the legend of the Wandering Jew, this second work of fiction from India’s foremost graphic novelist is an irreverent tale of illicit sex and drunken religiosity, which unravels new riddles with each reading.
Simhasana Dwaitrimsika
Classic tales of courage and compassion The fabled monarch Vikramaditya is considered a model of kingly virtues, and his reign a golden age. These famous stories narrated by the thirty-two statuettes of nymphs supporting the magic throne of Vikramaditya extol his courage, compassion and extraordinary magnanimity. They are set in a framework recounting the myths of his birth, accession, adventures and death in battle, after which the throne remained concealed till its discovery in a later age. A fascinating mix of marvellous happenings, proverbial wisdom and sage precepts, these popular tales are designed to entertain as well as instruct. Many have passed into folk literature. The original author of the Simhasana Dvatrimsika is unknown. The present text is dated to the thirteenth century AD. It exists in four main recensions, from which extracts have been compiled together for the first time, in this lively and faithful translation of this celebrated classic by a renowned Sanskritist
The Tenth Rasa
Welcome to the carnival of nonsense where hankies turn into mischievous cats, a messiah is born with her feet in her mouth, you can fave hun by socking on the ree-raw and your favourite corn cakes are made of . . . are you sure you want to know? For the last eighteen hundred years Indian arts have been seen in terms of strictly classified emotional effects known as the nine rasas. The Tenth Rasa: An Anthology of Indian Nonsense celebrates, for the very first time, what Sukumar Ray called the spirit of whimsy , or the tenth rasa, through the topsy-turvy, irreverent, melodic genre of nonsense literature. This fabulous selection of poetry and prose, brilliantly translated from seventeen Indian languages across India, includes works by Rabindranath Tagore, Sukumar Ray, Vinda Karandikar, Gulzar, Dash Benhur, Manoj Das, Navakanta Barua, Mangesh Padgavkar, Sri Sri, Vaikom Mohammad Basheer, Kunjunni and other known, lesser-known and previously unpublished authors. In forms as varied as stories and songs for children and adults, lullabies, folk tales, Bollywood song lyrics and medieval court verse, the writers open doors to wildly imaginative worlds populated by peculiar characters and fantastical creatures, where only nonsense makes perfect sense. Crackling with wit, wordplay and riotous rhymes, and frequently revelling in pure gibberish, this immensely entertaining collection will delight you from start to finish.
Around the Hearth
It is believed that the only way the Khasi people could learn of God’s word was by passing on the stories of their forefathers.
The alphabet of the great Khasi tribe of North-East India was born as late as in 1842, when Thomas Jones, a Welsh Presbyterian missionary, introduced the Roman script to form the essentials of the Khasi written word.
But long before the white man came, the Khasis knew agriculture, trade, commerce and industry. And they were also masters of story-telling.
Theirs was a society of great wisdom and civilized conduct at a time when brute force held sway. For theirs was a culture that worshipped God through respect for both man and nature. Perhaps that is why Khasi stories always begin with ‘When man and beasts and stones and trees spoke as one . . .’
How did the great story-telling tradition of the Khasis survive so long without a script? Putting together myths and legends-peopled by deities and poor folk, speaking trees and talking tigers, the sun and the moon and everything below-bilingual poet and writer Kynpham Sing Nongkynrih describes how fables of love and jealousy, hate and forgiveness, evil and redemption inform the philosophy, moral principles and daily activities of his community even today.
Govardhan’s Travels
‘The most memorable literary event of my experience . . . Govardhan is that common man who seeks justice from history, from time and society and is punished. Govardhan is everyman. He is a survivor and his story is everyman’s story.’ — Mahasveta Devi
Halfway through his famous play on injustice, Andher Nagari Choupat Raja, Bharatendu Harishchandra stops: What is the duty of a writer—to depict reality as it exists or to project what it should actually be? Unable to decide, Bharatendu abandons the play and releases Govardhan, the main character who is unjustly condemned to death, from drama to real life.
The noose still hangs over Govardhan’s head as he walks out of prison as a representative of all those who are victims of the ruthlessness and absurdity of justice. He questions everyone he encounters and raises a storm which gains momentum as he journeys through space and time. The lines between fact and fiction blur as a host of people from mythology, history and literature join him, some asking questions, like him, and others opposing them.
As we follow Govardhan’s meanderings, we realize that his journey will never end, for with the passage of time he will find more places to visit and more people to meet, even as the ever-present noose tightens around his neck. Ultimately, there can be no escape for the Govardhans of this PBI – World.
Anand’s imaginative recreation of Govardhan’s life after his release from prison maintains the farcical nature of Bharatendu’s work, although it moves away from the comfortable ending of Andher Nagari Choupat Raja. It provides a terrifying portrait of the cruelty and irrationality of the PBI – World which we contend as civilized.
Chowringhee
Here, day and night were interchangeable. The immaculately dressed Chowringhee, radiant in her youth, had just stepped on to the floor at the nightclub.’ Set in 1950s Calcutta, Chowringhee is a sprawling saga of the intimate lives of managers, employees and guests at one of Calcutta’s largest hotels, the Shahjahan. Shankar, the newest recruit, recounts the stories of several people whose lives come together in the suites, restaurants, bar and backrooms of the hotel. As both observer and participant in the events, he inadvertently peels off the layers of everyday existence to expose the seamy underbelly of unfulfilled desires, broken dreams, callous manipulation and unbidden tragedy. What unfolds is not just the story of individual lives but also the incredible chronicle of a metropolis. Written by best-selling Bengali author Sankar, Chowringhee was published as a novel in 1962. Predating Arthur Hailey’s Hotel by three years, it became an instant hit, spawning translations in major Indian languages, a film and a play. Its larger-than-life characters-the enigmatic manager Marco Polo, the debonair receptionist Sata Bose, the tragic hostess Karabi Guha, among others-soon attained cult status. With its thinly veiled accounts of the private lives of real-life celebrities, and its sympathetic narrative seamlessly weaving the past and the present, it immediately established itself as a popular classic. Available for the first time in English, Chowringhee is as much a dirge as it is a homage to a city and its people.
Subhâshitâvali
The subhashita verse is a popular feature of Sanskrit literature. Composed in isolation or as part of a larger work, it is essentially a miniature poem which encapsulates a complete thought, mood or image in a single stanza. These verse epigrams have a wide range of themes. This selection from the Subhashitavali, a celebrated verse anthology compiled by Vallabhadeva in c. fifteenth-century Kashmir, offers a rich variety of erotic poetry and a wealth of lyrical and gnomic verse. One section is given to earthy humour and cynical satire seldom available in English renditions. Also included are invocations and allegories, panegyrics and pen-pictures, sage observations and stark musings. The sweep of these verses is matched by the eclectic array of contributors from illustrious poets like Vyasa and Valmiki, Kalidasa and Bana to others now mostly forgotten. These verses of jollity and wit, ribaldry and bawdiness, snide sarcasm and wry comment showcase the fact that Sanskrit literature, generally perceived as staid and serious, can also be flippant and fun.
The Ramayana
The popular classic in which good vanquishes evil, now in a pocket-friendly version for children
The Ramayana is one of the best-known epics in the PBI – World-the tale of Rama, the prince of Ayodhya, who exiles himself to the forest for fourteen years to honour his father’s word. In the forest, Rama, his wife Sita and his brother Lakshmana meet new friends and unusual foes, and each day brings new adventures. But Ravana of Lanka, the king of demons, ruins it all by abducting Sita. To rescue her, Rama enlists the help of Hanuman and his monkey army. In the final battle many heroes die and new ones are born.In this fast-moving version for children, the ancient tale takes on new life. The traditional ingredients are all there-drama and excitement, gods and princes, love and war, infinite stories within stories, monkeys who cross oceans and carry mountains, shape-changing demons and bizarre monsters-but described with freshness and vitality by Bulbul Sharma. This contemporary retelling, which answers questions and provides explanations, is the perfect first Ramayana for everyone.