Thursday, November 8, 2012

Book Review: Giving Offence by Martin Rowson


After a long, exactly after 2 months, I am lettering another blog post! Frankly, a minute before writing this, I have never thought I must write something. The sudden reason for this new blog is, what I encountered in EFL library today. We had a presentation today, so as always, I went to participate it before an hour, and I had an hour to spend in some way. I could have gone to the teashop to meet any of my friends, or to open facebook and upload a new photo on its wall, or to sleep and see a wonderful daydream, but I preferred to be a good boy, therefore, I went to the library. I had an empty bag and the bag was not allowed to take inside of the library. An empty bag always behaves like our intimate friend and some theoreticians already introduced the importance of the possessiveness of a bag. For example, in everyday he is talking about the possessing of a bag and why a bag is important.
I got a token, and when I was about to sign the registrar, suddenly the security person asked my ID card! The interesting thing is, that security guy knows me well, he sees that I come and go back from the library at least two-three times every day. Still he dared to ask me the library card! I avoided his demand and pretended I heard something else, but he repeatedly demanded and glued on his need. I felt strongly offended by that person and in a hurry; I took my ID card and rushed inside the library. To air out my felt offensiveness, I could go out taking my bag arguing with the security guy or simply go and sit before a book. Here again I preferred to be a good boy. Therefore, the next option was to select a book that is suitable to the situation. Here I, either, could select a book on Mappilas of Malabar (I know there are two books in the library), or go to the magazine section and read something. In that moment, Martin Rowson’s book appeared to console me!

In the new arrival section, I saw ‘Giving Offence’ written by Rowson, a London based cartoonist. His self-explanation is one who gives offences to the society. This book is examining the psychic of an offender and why people always are offended by others. Offence, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder and it is a subjective business. There are many minor offences, but there are also some major offences that are not worth to be mentioned like cannibalism, incest, paedophilia, necrophilia or coprophagus. He traces the history and goes for saying that these overwhelmingly offensive acts were practiced somewhere in some point of time. For example, Tom Stoppaardi’s noted-play Jumpers explains the cannibalistic practices of some society. The playwright describes a community who eat their parents’ dead bodies believing that by doing this they are actually venerating their parents. Even Christianity in certain community played a role to encourage them to eat the brain of the dead bodies. For example, a new disease, Kuru was found among Fore People of Papua. The reason for this disease was when they converted to Christianity, they mixed their own ritual practices with the new theology and started to ete their parents’ brain when parents were dead.
Incest was a common practice of most of the ancient communities like Greek, Roman, Egyptian and ottoman to protect their monarchy and to revolve their power around their own people. Paedophilia is seen in some societies still. There is a myth of Zappa about his act before a huge crowd. Once when he was performing in a stage he challenged the audience to do the most repulsively offensive thing they could imagine, he promised to outdo that. A woman did a ‘most offensive thing’ and he, as promised, outdid that.

Offence is a very subjective one, a daughter is easily offended when she is not allowed to wear what she wants to wear, a father is offended when he sees his son wears something he does not like, and the daughter is offended when mother wear an old dress or something. There is a story about a German Brownshirt. She went to watch Marx brother’s movie. She liked it and she laughed, laughed and laughed. But when she came out, she knew that Marx brother were actually Jew, so she was offended and went to the counter demanding her money back! Humour can be used both aggressively and defensively. When Diana was killed in a car mishap, it actually made mixed responses. As a satirical cartoonist, our author drew some cartoon on Diana’s death and it invited the offence of some people.

He goes to explain the caricature and how caricature works in a society. When 9/11 happened, he drew a cloud sky, called his manager, and said to him that he had a meaningless and senseless cartoon. The manager was impressed and responded, ‘this is the best time to give people that meaningless and senselessness!’ The book is written with very less pages and in am easy way to comprehend the idea he is presenting. I read it and ran to participate the research scholars’ open presentation. 

Monday, September 24, 2012

Staying a Night at Nagpur Railway Station! An Incredible Journey of a mother 2


It is the second part of the travelogue of a journey I accompanied with my son to Delhi via Hyderabad via Mysore. In the first part (kindly click here to read the first part: (An Incredible Journey of a Mother to the Heart of India), I was telling what happened to the ticket and why we booked the ticket first to Nagpur. When the train paused in Nagpur, the sun had already sunk in the Arabian Sea. The strange and fearful atmosphere stared at me. I could not realize anything, everywhere an alien language script laughed at me, strange people gazed and the whole railway system threatened me. My son was in a deep silent but he was pretending that a smile was there on his face always. I got down in to the platform with praising Allah. We travelled the half way to Delhi.

Nagpur, a land of Orange! The story of Nagpur also related to Delhi, Delhi sultanate and of course, Hyderabad Nizams.  Bhakt Buland initiated Nagpur city after he visited Delhi in the early 18th century and declared it as his capital. He was the Gond prince of the kingdom of Deogad in the Chhindwara district.  His successor Chand Sultan continued the work. As happened everywhere after the Chand Sultan in 1739, the princes fought each other for the throne and Raghuji Bhonsle, the Maratha governor of Berar, helped to restore the elder son to the throne. Raghuji Bhonsle camped there and intervened in 1743, and the control of Nagpur slowly passed on from the Gonds to the Marathas. 

It became the capital of the Bhonsles. With the Bhonsle dynasty came the vast class of cultivators in Vidarbha. Raghuji's successors lost some territories to the Peshwas of Pune and the Nizam of Hyderabad. In 1803, Bhonsles (along with their allies Scindias [Shinde] of Gwalior) at Assaye and Argaon (Argaum). In 1811 Pindaris attacked Nagpur. Bhonsles again lost to the British in 1817 and Nagpur came under British influence. In 1853 Raghuji III died without an heir to his kingdom. As a result, the city lapsed into British control under Lord Dalhousie's Doctrine of Lapse. In 1861, Nagpur became the capital of the Central Provinces. The advent of the Great Indian Peninsula Railway (GIP) in 1867 spurred its development as a trade centre. After Indian independence, Nagpur became the capital of Madhya Bharat state (C.P. and Berar). In 1960, the marathi majority Vidarbha region was merged with the new state of Maharashtra and Nagpur was designated the second capital of Maharashtra state, alternating with Bombay as the seat of the Maharashtra state legislature.

However, my mind was troubling with the image of Nagpur I was getting from the newspaper reports that it is the head office of some extremist organizations. I was compelled to stay there a night! I did not know where my hotel room was booked. When I asked the room, his smiling turned a big laugh and it took two minutes to slow down, when he finished laughing, in a very low voice, he said, ‘we are luck, today we booked a huge room  with 24 hours electricity’. Therefore, I was happy, but scared, if I stayed that big room, the amount must be very high. . After few minutes, he turned me again and said,

‘Mom! Don’t be worry if say anything’

No. Not at all.

‘That huge room I booked is here, with these people!’
He pointed to the sleeper class waiting room.
The room was clean, the cleanest place I have ever seen. However, a huge number of people have already booked each place in that ‘huge room’ with 24-hour electricity.  A man was sitting before the room with a register to check whether we were upper class ticket owners. Moreover, outside of the room, there were flood of people staying here and there.

‘Now, we need to keep our luggage in the clock room’, saying this, he went in searching of a clock room.  The security was very strict, they checked the luggage carefully and gave us token and we kept the luggage in the clock room. When the heavy luggage from our shoulder removed, we felt very relieved without any burden.  ‘Now we can have something for dinner’.  We went outside. There the crowd was moving aimlessly as if they were paral fish in a stream. Everywhere people packed largely. I was thinking about myself, ‘A woman who came from a faraway place, here in a very strange place with her tongue tightened and feet trembling. Her only proof to believe she is in a Hindi speaking belt was her hand grabbing her son’s hand’! That thought tightened my hold his hand further. When he felt it, he turned and asked,
What happened?
Nothing’ I was thinking a story I learnt in school in my fourth standard about four poor animal friends’
‘Which story?’
‘Four animals, a cow, a mouse, a deer and tortoise, they were good friends, but all were very much dependents each other, they did not want to miss anybody, and being helpless and small animals they were scared about everything’
‘I know that story but why you think the story this time?’
‘Missing is painful’
‘Don’t worry, mom!, you know there are millions of people live in our India, and we are just two drops in this great ocean, I will stay with you always, and there is no question of missing. Hey mom, he is selling oranges, so we can have some oranges from him’

We did not think about the price of orange, because there is saying that if you want to eat apple from Kashmir, do not go to the shop but go to an apple tree and collect scattered apples underneath the tree. 
We went and asked that man the price of orange, the price was double of what I usually got from any shop in Kondotty! ‘What a world!’
We saw a restaurant there. When I saw the menu, I whispered in his ears,
Choru kittumo?, (Can I have rice?)
However, my sound was little high, then all people seemed to stare at me, I was afraid and looked at my son’s face.
He smiled and explained me.
Mom! You know we are far far away from our land, nothing will help us now here, our culture, food, language, dress, bed, house, nothing’

I agreed, ya, my dress has changed, look! I have never worn a churidaar for past many many years in my life, but now my dress is churidaar, my Malayalam, my house, everything I had given up in Kerala!
‘Therefore, when we were what we were not, then all our meaningful words will produce some other meaningful words’
He looked as if a philosophy teacher and I could not understand his words.
‘You know the word; choru in Hindi means thief, that’s why the hotel cashier looked at us! You might know the story of two Malyalees who went to a hotel in Delhi’
‘No, I don’t know’

Once Two Malayalees went to Delhi to participate in a party conference. When they were hungry, they went to a restaurant as we did now. They ordered two plates of poratta, and they did not get curry for sometimes, so one of the person shouted, chaar (curry in Malayalam), then the next moment, the waiter brought him four poratta, when seeing this, the other guy signed and said loudly, ‘che!’ (a sighing sound). The waiter again came with six poratta, when they got six more poratta, one friend, lost his temper and clamoured to the other friend, ‘Kazhutha! ivianeyokke ivideunnu aaattanam’  (Donkey! He should be ousted out from here) this time, with their surprise the waiter came with eight poratta! Again the other Malayalee was about to say something, then the other guy, pressed his mouth with his full force and said, don’t say anything, if you say any word, the waiter will bring you more and more poratta..’

I enjoyed that joke and kept in silent. He ordered something, and then I realized I was losing even my rice for at least two weeks.  The food was nice and tasty. Night was darkening more and more, and I saw more people were coming to get a space in each corner of the street, we walked back to the station, station was packed with the people, and anyhow I got a seat to sit there. Everywhere people spread their cloths and started to sleep. he asked me what I usually pray before going to sleep, I briefed up the prayers I usually do before going to the sleep, then he said to add one more thing to the prayer,
‘What?’
‘To not come TTR or checker to the station’
‘But, why we already have the tickets?
‘We have the ticket, but we are not allowed to enter the platform before four hours of the journey, our journey starts at 9.30 tomorrow morning!’, 

he continued, but don’t worry, our journey is not any ordinary trip, we are going to know the pulse of India, so everything should be welcomed in the journey. Each event will be an added experience in our journey. This journey is not for any destination, but it it’s destination is wherever we are led’
I looked at the people, they are very happy, and everybody has dreams, hopes, happy, so I also should be part of the sleeping mass beside me’ when a lot of thoughts flooded in mind, sleep visited my eyes gradually.

(English translation of a travelogue written by Maimoona Rahman KP )

Thursday, September 20, 2012

In Memory of ‘the Brightest Night of the Year’


Now I am writing about the brightest night of the year (der Klügsten Nacht des Jahres), which is a whole night devoted for science and, of course, for arts in Berlin and Potsdam. The programme begins late at night and goes without ending until dawn! That day different universities and institutes come together to show what miracles they have in their hands. For the twelfth time scientific institutions in Berlin and Potsdam together organized the "Brightest Night of the Year", in which a total of 73 universities, colleges, research institutes and technology-oriented companies opened its doors in June 2012. The comprehensive program included an almost endless range of topics. There were also events for urban development, economy, social issues and much more. Embarked on a journey of discovery through the scientific community, where one could experience firsthand what being researched in these two regions.

Small researchers had in the numerous activities for kids get a first impression. This year's theme of the night of science was, a "fireworks in the brain." This was an incentive program and at the same time, this year's Long Night offered a firework of ideas and knowledge, and we enjoyed the "brightest night of the year." The idea was wonderful!

A full day to celebrate! A celebration which directly pierces to our brain and mind. The first day we reached the university, Prof. Dirk Wiemann asked us to participate in a seminar presentation he would do in this day. The topic was interesting; it was about the Indian graphic novels. I have not read any graphic novel before, but ya, definitely I did read all most all amarchitrakatha published in Malayalam.

It was a very cold day; even our bones broke with the chilling climate!  I could opt to either wear my usual red coloured sweater or wear a blue coloured t-shirt and show the people our team jersey. Actually, the t-shirt and the badge were two marks to recognize us when we were in the presentation room. 
We went to Golm campus early morning, and we saw there were a long queue and a ticket counter. When we knew, the ticket price was 13 euro (Rs.910!) we thought to drop the plan to go in and we  decided to participate in the seminar in which we were a part. We went to the gate to ask about the programme, and we saw a very few students wore the same blue coloured t-shirts and badges. Moreover, they smiled at us. The security before the gate greeted us. We were thinking some magic of the shirt. We went to a door, where a blue coloured t-shirt dressed woman kept just before it to check the ticket. We pretended to ask something, but she smiled and greeted us. We entered the hall. Then we realized the badge was an entry ticket which permitted us to see the entire programme.

The first door led us to a chemistry experiment hall.  People thought we were science students; they were creating different substances and making experiments. I suddenly remembered my Pre-Degree Classroom. I was scared all the acids and experiments. (That is why I ended up in an art subject for my Degree!) For my final exam, there was a question to recognize some acids; I think, it was phenyl acid. The only thing I knew about that acid was that phenyl burns our skin. Therefore, instead of making any experiment, I poured two drops of phenyl into my palm using a scale, nothing happened, so I confirmed that it was carbohydrate or some other stuff, and started to answer it. I completely forgot the scale, which I used to take the acid. When my exam passed the first hour, accidently I put my hand on the scale, I heard a shii sound and smelled a burning skin. My left hand made a black mark of burning acid, the neighbouring girl was shocked, and she was about to faint but I winked at her and said, it is ok, I got seven marks freely, I corrected the answer and thanked the phenol for giving me a mark on my left hand a 7 marks in my paper.

When the research scholars realized we were not science students, they said that all were for children, and there were already a bunch of school-going children surrounded them.

‘Could we participate in your experiments? Vivek asked them.
‘We are sorry; it is only for school going children’
‘Oho! But we are university-going children!’
‘Ok, then you are welcome’.
First was a DNA forming experiment from a banana. One should come forward to help the researcher to do the experiment. I was thinking all the experiments I did my Pre Degree and took two steps back. So Aparna went for it. The guy explained us how a DNA is formed from banana. He said to do different processes. To our wonder, we got a DNA in a test tube. Oho, the term test tube also forced me to remember my PDC chemistry lab, once in the lab, with my hand, I broke the tip of a pipette (burette?), that day  just got over.  However, when I went there to get my transfer certificate I got a due certificate of breaking the tip of the pipette, it was some 350 rupees!)

After the experiment, they presented that DNA as a gift  for completing the job successfully. Next was an experiment to create thermo-coal-balls. This time Vivek was ready to be the scientists, it seemed he also was thinking his +2 science class. It took too much time to complete the process. At last, he also got the gift. The least dangerous experiments were blowing a balloon with ice. This ice was very different. It became the evaporated stage directly from ice without a liquid stage! They filled the balloon with this ice, and the balloon, then started to puff with air. That was amazing. I got that balloon as a gift! We came out from the chemistry laboratory. 
Then it was the time of music. We heard a very beautiful music from the courtyard of the Golm campus.
Our presentation time was around 10 pm at night. We were asked to read four graphic novels, these were:

Delhi Calm by Vishwajyothi Ghosh. This is a picturesque description of what happened in Delhi (India) during Emergency. It explains the whole issue through a journalist’s eye. I am sure it will please those who witnessed the sleepless nights of Emergency and those who know the short cut routs of Delhi.


Tinker. Solder. Tap by Bhagwati Prasad and Amitab Kumar. It is a very sataristic story of how piracy is well worked in India. The transformation of film piracy through Cassettes to DVD is simply described in the book. Again, it explains the India’s big piracy market, Palika Bazar. As the authors know that, any of the creative products is not free from piracy in India in this globalized time, so they have given the permission to ‘pirate’ the book. It is available in this website, www. sarai.net. In the cover page, the authors have written: ‘Any part of this book maybe reproduced in any form without the prior written permission of the publishers for educational and non-commercial use’.
 
Indian by Choice by Amit Dasgupta. This is specially written for NRI citizen who live in hi-fi metro cities. It is a journey of a Punjabi rooted Manddep Singh who thinks India as a very unproductive, densely populated, uncivilized country, but his visit to India for a marriage function changes all his notions on India and its people.  When Mandeep feels India after a tour to different places of India, he starts to love India.
LIE: A Traditional Tale of Modern India by Gautam Bhatia. It is a very satirical and strongly criticise today’s politics. Among all these four novels I like reading of this graphic novel most.
In his presentation, Prof. Wiemann was focussing the reproduction of mythical past of India through the amarchitrakatha. The amarchitrakatha started and developed using the mythical stories and it generated a golden past notion of ancient India.
  

Thursday, August 30, 2012

A visit to the spot where Hitler committed suicide and to to the Holocaust Memorial, Berlin


Until I reached the spot where Hitler shot himself after consuming Cyanide, I was not at all paying attention to that guy who was explaining the already known history of Berlin Wall, parliament, and other stuffs! That instant was very crucial to me. In my unconscious mind, I was thinking that Hitler did it in any of the border place of Germany; frankly, I am very poor in history too! Nothing was there in that spot, just an ordinary place without any identifiable mark. Vivek and I were talking our ‘own’ constructed history of everything till we heard that word, Hitler from the guide.

with Sajeev Chemmany
Today I am writing about our journey to both of these two places,  firstly the spot where Hitler shot himself and the Holocaust Memorial, Berlin. That day was very much special for two reasons. We had two guests from Calicut via Delhi, Mr. Sajeev Chemmany and Soumya Balakrishnan, the two cosmopolitan citizens in every sense. They were in their usual ‘exploring Europe journey’ via Berlin when we met them at the ZOB in Berlin. Both are media persons based in Delhi. Sajeev is a staunch football player and a good fan of European football. Then our talks revolved round football and European clubs. He whispered me that one of his aims to visit Germany was to buy a Bayen Munich club Jersey! They knew many languages, Malayalam, Hindi, English, Italian, Tamil, Telugu, and many more. They had all information in their hand and plan in their mind. Instead we guided them they brought us to the Free Berlin city walking tour. The tour would start from Brandenburg Gate at 11 am. We thought there would be a very less people for this walking tour and so we reached before the gate around 10.45.

Only then we understood a flood of people had already reached there to participate in the free tour. The concept of this free tour is a walking about 3 hours in the main tourist point of Berlin. The guide would explain the history and importance of each place. He never goes inside of any of the place, but it is a participant’s responsibly to go and spend some euro, if he/ she likes. I was not at all interested to go for that tour, because I thought I knew all the places and I had seen already all the places and I had read the history of the places, the guide would explain. So I was sure, it would be just 3 hours walking and spending of time. But our guests were too much excited and interested to hear each story of the city. We were given some numbers and papers by the walking tour people and they divided us into multiple groups. In our group, they included numbers from 95 to 130. In these 35 people, there were different nationalities. I was guessing the majorly must be Indians and in Indians again the majority must be Keralites. I was proud of my country/ state to feel me proud in a foreign country. That tourist guide guy was looking very impressive and energetic. To make an initial interest to the participant, he asked who were among us staying in that hotel pointing a far away hotel. And he waited 26 seconds to get an answer. Actually nobody was staying there, and then he explained the reason for it. That building was too expensive and placed in the heart of the city. Only big wigs like the ministers, ambassadors of different countries, corporate businessmen could only afford such a highly cost.

Then he gave details the different flags floated in the air. These were different embassies with colourful flags. The flags of France, Britain, USA, Russia, and lots of European countries were waving in the air. He then explained the history of Brandenburg Gate (see my next blog post). He could not control his emotions when he explained the misery the people the Berlin Wall made them. His words were broken and it trembled and sometimes he took time to find a word to explain. The Brandenburg Gate witnessed all the tears and laughs of the Berlin people. Next was German parliament, when it was parliament I just escaped the explanation, because we had already visited the parliament and sat inside of the parliament. (I will write about the journey soon). When he was talking about the parliament I distanced from the group and went to a nearby iron statue. 
I took my camera to take a snap of that statue, but then suddenly the statue covered his face with his hand! I was terrified first; I could not realize what was going on. I stood with my mouth wide open. The statue smiled me! Then only I realized that it was not a real statue but someone had dressed up as a statue of Lenin! I really thought it was an iron statue. He raised his two fingers. I thought something special happened to him and he was showing the victory sign. Then Vivek, standing behind me remembered that he was not showing any victory sign, but he was asking two euro to take a photo with him., I said ‘salaam’ in my  mind and turned to the walking tour party.
But they were not there. I knew if the guide had finished explaining about German Parliament then the only thing the guide would show was Alexander plaza or Topography of Terror, if these were not, then, of course, it would be Check Point Charlie. So we were about to go to Topography of Terror. Then we saw the group were standing just opposite of the Brandenburg Gate and he was explaining something. We trickily reached there and tried to listen to him. The group members were very keen to hear him. Even our guests did not show any interest to greet us; all were enchanted with his powerful and clear words. Then I smelled something serious discussion was going on there. I did not see anything fascinating there, but a part of the street road and a traffic signal before them. All most all were taking photos of that street road. I laughed in mind and wondered that people would have gone mad. Slowly we understood that he was explaining the end of Hitler and his sad death. The place where Hitler committed suicide is now a car park and grassy knoll.


The consensus is that Adolf Hitler took a cyanide capsule and shot himself in the head on April 30, 1945 in his bunker in Berlin. Tanks and troops of Soviet General Vasily Chuikov's Eighth Guards army had fought to within a few blocks of the Reich Chancellery. Adolf Hitler was based in his bunker underneath the Reich Chancellery building. Bomb proof and with its own air recycling plant, the complex had been built without a proper communication system. The only way staff officers could know about the extent of the Red Army’s movement into Berlin was to phone civilians at random (if their phones worked) to ascertain if the Red Army was in their vicinity. Propaganda Minister, Joseph Goebbels, had brought his wife and six children to the apparent safety of the bunker. The end was clearly at hand. With Germany lying in ruins after six devastating years of war, and with defeat imminent, Hitler decided to take his own life. On April 28th, Hitler received a report that Himmler, head of the SS, had been in touch with the Allies regarding surrender.

this is the place where hitler killed himself
Himmler had contacted Count Bernadette of the Swedish Red Cross. Adolf Hitler had always considered Himmler to be the most loyal of his men. When he received a Reuter’s confirmation of the report, witnesses said that he exploded with rage. He accused an SS officer in the bunker, Herman Fegelein, of knowing about what Himmler had planned. Fegelein admitted that he had known about it and, stripped of all his rank and medals, he was marched by SS guards to the Reich Chancellery garden and shot. Early on the morning on April 29, 1945, in a civil ceremony in his bunker, Hitler married his mistress of many years, Eva Braun. The wedding service was held in Hitler’s private sitting room. A low ranking Nazi official who had the authority to perform a civil wedding was brought in by Goebbels. Eva Braun wore a black silk dress for the occasion. In keeping with Nazi requirements, the official had to ask both Hitler and Eva Braun whether they were of pure Ayran blood and whether they were free from hereditary illnesses. Joseph Goebbels and Martin Bormann signed the register. The next day at a little after 3:30 p.m., they bit into thin glass vials of cyanide. As he did so, Hitler also shot himself in the head with a 7.65 mm Walther pistol.

Though there seems little doubt that Adolf Hitler had already decided that suicide was his only option, and also that of Eva Braun’s, it is probable that these two pieces of information moved that nearer. Hitler had also received confirmation that Mussolini had been caught in Italy, shot and his body, along with that of his mistress, Clara Pettachi, had been hung upside down in a square in Milan. Above all else, Adolf Hitler had decided that such humiliation would not happen to him as he ordered that his body should be burned. According to witnesses, the bodies of Hitler and Braun were wrapped in blankets and carried to the garden just outside the bunker, placed in a bomb crater, doused with petrol and set ablaze. In May 1945 a Russian forensics team dug up what was presumed to be the dictator’s body. Part of the skull was missing, apparently the result of the suicide shot. The remaining piece of jaw matched his dental records, according to his captured dental assistants. And there was only one testicle.

You can watch this explanation on Hitler’s death here


I was watching to the faces of the tourists. There were different emotions interchanging, and the common feeling on every face was a feeling of amazing. A dictator who controlled the whole Europe with his thumb, found his death in that spot, was they were thinking that moment. Then the guide led us to the holocaust memorial, that memorial also was, first time I heard about. This time we did not miss him. The 2,711 pillars, planted close together in undulating waves, represent the 6 million murdered Jews. Both the subject matter (which has forced a taboo part of Germany’s past into public consciousness) and the site have raised controversy. The 19,000 square metre block of land, situated just south of the Brandenburg Gate, has a dark past. In 1937, it housed the office of Nazi propagandist Joseph Goebbels; nearby was Hitler’s Chancellery and the infamous bunker where he ended his life. 
Designed by US architect Peter Eisenman, controversial plans for the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe were approved in 199 Architect Peter Eisenman stirred controversy when he unveiled plans for the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. The building of the ‘Memorial for the Murdered Jews of Europe’ has been a protracted process. First proposed in the late 1980s, the project was not approved by politicians until the late 1990s, with American architect Peter Eisenman’s finalised design being presented to the public in 1999. Now, in 2005, here it was: an entire city block covered, seemingly haphazardly, in huge concrete blocks. Some of the ‘stelae’ lay low to the ground, while others stood upright, the tallest reaching a height of 4.7 metres. The Holocaust Memorial is constructed of massive stone blocks arranged on a 19,000 sq m (204,440 sq foot) plot of land between East and West Berlin. 
The stone slabs seem to undulate with the sloping land. There are no plaques, inscriptions, or religious symbols at the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. The solid rectangular stones have been compared to tombstones and coffins. Visitors to the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe can follow a labyrinth of pathways between the massive stone slabs. Architect Peter Eisenman explained that he wanted visitors to feel the loss and disorientation that Jews felt during the Holocaust. Each stone slab at the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe is a unique shape and size. The stone slabs at the Berlin Holocaust Memorial have been coated with a special solution to prevent graffiti.

Critics protest that the Memorial is too abstract and does not present historical information about the Nazi campaign against the Jews. Other people say that the Memorial resembles a vast field of nameless tombstones and captures the horror of the Nazi death camps. People who praise the Berlin Holocaust Memorial say that the stones will become a central part of Berlin's identity. Many people felt that the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe should include inscriptions, artefacts, and historical information. To meet that need, a visitor's centre was constructed beneath the Memorial stones. The Memorial opened to the public on May 12, 2005 and now carries its sombre message to the world. Protests against the Memorial – both its concept and design – have been numerous.

While I was wondering seeing the thousands of the unique and uniform slabs, Vivek who was sitting beside me suddenly lied down on the floor. I was speechless and could not understand what to do next. Many people might feel a kind of depression seeing the very abstract and symbolic structures of thousands of graveyard slabs, so I thought he might have struck with something. Three moments passed, I could not move from the place or even could not close my mouth. I was watching him, and then he did two- three push-ups as he does in a Gymnasium and stood up. Then he whispered in my ear, ‘let’s move forward! The walking tour had already left the place, so we walked fast.






Monday, August 27, 2012

Book Review: 'No Alphabet in Sight New Dalit Writing from South India: Dossier1: Tamil and Malayalam'; Edited and Introduced by K Satyanarayana and Susie Tharu


‘I don’t think I am a poet yet. On the primordial grasslands of my people, there is poetry. I might yet become a poet when I get there. That will be my true poetry.
(Raghavan Atholi; The Poet with a Forest Fire Inside, Pg. 345)

1
O! My God! I have just finished reading of the 650 page ‘No Alphabet in Sight New Dalit Writing from South India’ a book edited and introduced by K Satyanarayana and Susie Tharu. I have bought this book paying money from my pocket! Its price is 600 (sorry, actually 599!), that means each of its page costs Rs 1. I picked it up when the book was released at a function organized at the EFLU campus. I wished the book to possess, for I wished the authors’ signatures on it. And I got it. When I purchased it, I soliloquised that, one day I would read it, if not today or tomorrow. Today is that day when I devoured this book. It was the time to go to Germany and I wanted some books to carry with me. I could select any of the books I had in my room, but I preferred this one. My brother frequently asked me whether I would take this book with me. It is a very heavy considering its heaviness and its content. I said him, yes, but he tried to put out of sight in thinking it would be too weighty to be carried. Actually Nehru compelled me to take this book with me! Nehru? Yes, in my seventh class, I have read a lesson about Nehru and his words about book. If we respect a book, we are actually respecting its author(s). Prof. Satya Narayana and Prof. Susie Tharu edited this book. I hoped both would guide me if I took this book with me.

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me with Prof. Susie Tharu
For my MPhil, my research query was the (im)possibility of a dalit literature in Kerala and again the (im)possibility of a community formation among dalits. When I completed reading this book, I suddenly memorized my thesis. One of the tactics to disprove is, comparing Kerala dalit life with the life of Maharashtra where a strong dalit movement and literature emerged out. As the book argues that comparing a dalit life in a state like Kerala to the dalit in Bihar is very problematic. It actually reduces the issue of the entire dalit problems into a very few issues like untouchability or two tumblers system, but the marginalization of dalits are multifaceted and diverse. Anywhere in the book, they are not comparing their lives with other states of India to prove that as everywhere, the South also has a dalit literature, but it speaks only the two states, and its multiple possibilities of dalit writing. Dalits are not a homogenous category so as their stories. Everybody contributes to the dalit literature in their own way. There are sturdy internal criticisms, multiple voices and solutions to face the challenges, celebration/ demolition of the same political and social idols, a parallel dalit feminist critique, but all journeys flow for a common cause.  The book is not narrating a homogenous dalit experience or dalit literature, each page of the book is a small stream which reaches to the ocean at last. The pages are colourful, but powerful current as in a river. Don’t expect it’s only a downward river which reaches to the ocean. It also diverts somewhere and goes in search of upwards current. But whatever way it goes, it reaches to the ocean called dalit literature. This is not a simply a Dossier as the book claims. It is not a simple collection of diverse writing of Tamil Nadu and Kerala, but its introduction itself is influential to make a separate book. The introduction is detailed the miniature events happened in the states. When this introduction is added to the first pages, the book broadens its length beyond a just dossier. By giving its name ‘No Alphabet in Sight’ the authors successfully overcome the issue of an alien title for the book. The title is a title of a Malayalam book, so the authors act as they have nothing added new. The description of the authors are very helpful to understand the background of the writers and their diverse life.
me with Prof. Satyanarayana
The book celebrates the dalit life, most of the writers of the book are dalits by birth, not they are thematically dalits. All the writings start from internal criticism and develop to trouble the accepted notion of establishments. They question everything, untouchability, landlessness, Hindutva agenda, law against the conversion, poverty No dalit writer says meaningless stores, but a story with a social mission. This 650 pages are impressively engraved the everyday realities of the South India States, Kerala and Tamil Nadu. This book is a proof for an undeniable truth that there is a strong dalit life narrative emerging out even from extreme south of India. Can one who is not a dalit write dalitliterature? Just listen, what Vizhi. Pa. Idayaventhan says:
Well, let me give you the example of Sujata who wrote a story about hunger. I also have a story called ‘choru’. Their sadam (the Brahmin tem for cooked rice) and my choru (the lower caste term) are different. Hunger for me is my experience, but it is also that of my children and my forefathers’ (pg. 169).
Some of them inspire other dalit brethrens with the way they lived. For example, Sreedhara Ganeshan says, ‘To write Vaangal I stopped working for six months, living off a cup of tea and one meal a day. The 1000 page work was edited down to 500 for publication’

When you start reading this book, you may feel as you enter into a burning forest. The fire is so powerful which burns the injustice which is done against the indigenous people. The dalits start to read everything, literature, history, aesthetics, philosophy and all types of stereotyping. Dalits are well aware that they are not attempting to interpret everything in a parallel or opposite of the excising aestheticism. . But dalit practice is not a reflection of any one unity, rather it encompasses a variety of presences, complexities, experiences and absences. The dalit manifestoes of the seventies addressed this condition in which all the elements were interconnected or mixed. (KK Baburaj, Pg. 371). The categories like opposite, alternative, secular, and parallel are delineated by western systems of thought, and the processes of pollution and invisibilization on the East are both in a state of crises. At this juncture, along with the emergence of new subjectivities, discourses of the multitudes are also taking central stage.
with Prof. Susie Tharu

Everywhere we must expect an opposite voice in between different castes, each writing may be the controversial each other, but after all, this all controversial, divergent writing are called dalit writing, because dalit life is not unilinear. Dalit studies challenges the objectivity of knowledge and endorses the view that different belief systems and contradictory interpretations are possible. For example, Mathivannam is not convinced by Ravikumar, Sivakami and others who say that Periyar is an enemy of dalits and that he retarded their development and so on. On the contrary, he feels that Periyar and the movement he initiated have done many things for the upliftment of dalits. The recovery of Iyothee Thass, a Tamil dalit Buddhist scholar in the 1990s by some dalit writers, Mthivannam argues, an attempt to uproot the inclusive ideology of Periyar. Thass belonged to one dalit caste (parayar) and he worked for that caste group. So to him, the attacks on Periyar are a result of a union between the past Brahmin and the present Brahmin. Actually this argument is not so trivial; the whole Tamil dalit intelligentsias are divided in this issue that who is the dalit hero Periyar or Iyathee Thass. Ravikumar very plainly argues that the lineage of dalit is a Brahmin one (The original Brahmin- the Buddhist who were destabilized by the false Brahmins sometimes after the 10th Century- suffered innumerable hardships, pg. 269) and he goes on for saying Periyar did not do anything for dalit and abolition of untouchability in Tamil Nadu.
He concludes his article, ‘Re-reading Periyar’
Ambedkar concludes his book, what congress and Gandhi Have done to the untouchables thus: ‘The untouchables will still have ground to say: ‘Good God! Is this man Gandhi our savour?’ if the deeds of Periyar are analysed the dalits in Tamil Nadu would ask a similar question: Good God! Is this man Periyar our savour?

Some argue dalits should grab the ‘best’ language with wonderful style and all, and other argue, dalits should write in their own languages. For example, Azhakiya Periyavan says, ‘I am a conscious stylist, but you must remember that I am also landless! People tend to believe that dalits are ugly and that we use an unrefined cheri bhasha. I want to respond to those criticisms by writing consciously in a literary style about dalit life.’ (pg. 231). Must dalit writers criticise dalit life? Still there are numerous stands about it, but Sivakami strongly bringing out a possible dalit woman writing through her novels.
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If I am asked to make a choice the most striking articles/stories from the dossier, what writings would I select? It is actually very easier said than done to select such a limited number of books from a huge collection. All are much thought provoking, enthralling writings. Another problem is articles, poems and stories are not the same genre. So my selection is very much subjective the seven most striking writing are;
  1. Rock by MB Manoj (Pg: 530)
  2. The Unwritten and Writing: Dalits and the Media by Ravikumar (pg: 266)
  3. Kukai by cho.Dharman (pg.104)
  4. Narrativizing the History of Slave Suffering by Sanal Mohan (535)
  5. The Show (Abhirammi) (Pg: 75)
  6. Ghost Speech by C Ayyappan (351)
  7. Scavenger’s Son in the Collective Thinking of Tamil Writers by Mathivannan (Pg. 216)

I must explain why I select these seven writings as very unusual.
Rock is an extra ordinary dalit poem written with some unimaginable imageries and symbols. Each line of the poem is a long essay. Nobody has written what is a dalit poem in an easy way than Manoj wrote. It declares that when vein of a Muslim League activist oozes green blood and Marxist dark red, but for a dalit when s/he is stabbed s/he produces black blood! Remember the proverb, ‘better is to be a lion in day than be a rock for 1000 years’ so it  also denies the main stream idea of a valour, chivalric notions like lion and tigers and instead prises the importance of being a rock which has the years long experience, patience and it silently witnesses the fall and raise of communities. The least wanted and ever time unnoticed things like mud, rock, pebbles are never exampled in Malyalee aesthetic sense. Manoj dares to associate with it and hence goes in search of a dalit root. We see rocks everywhere but we don’t know when it emerged there. IN geography books we learn rocks are the result of powerful volcano, but we never see (but in TV of course!) in a volcano, the lava makes the rocks. In a place like Kerala this rock formation actually happened in a thousand years ago. Here the vocabulary of rock and dalit speaks the same. Both are the ancestral and inhabitants of the land. When a rock is demolished, the history, literature, poem of the rock is buried forever and only with lava the rock is created. Here the poet warns the privileged class of literary world, that if you people try to destroy the indigenous glory from the literature, the result will be powerful volcano again. In this poem there are pains of a yearlong negligence of the authority, anger of being sidelined. The poet also equates the sufferings of dalit with the sufferings of the Black people. Both are born with the disease of being unaccessed to the society. The notion of colour is also questioned here. Black is beauty, black beauty. The beauty of a rock is its colour of being black. So this strong imagery dismantles the very notion of beauty associated with any other privileged colour. And also it brings forth a new kind of beauty concepts. The image of rock is also an attempt to associate dalits to the nature. It strongly attacks the greediness of the capitalist/savarna/mainstream idea of destroying everything and exploiting everything for his/her own sake. Rocks (dalits) are the very indigenous, ancient inhabitants of the world. Its pebbles are always neglected. Because of its lack of visible power, people try to pull down or destroy it. for poet, the pebbles of the rock are the sons and daughters of the dalits.

The Unwritten and Writing: Dalits and the Media

Ravikumar’s article, The Unwritten and Writing: Dalits and the Media is quite impressive and incredible. He tries to find out a parallel media history for dalit. The immediate reason for his enquiry was the celebration of The Hindu’s 125th anniversary on 13th September 2003. In such a juncture, he traces the dalit media history in Tamil Nadu. His finding is very notable. Reclaiming against the main stream history of magazine production in Tamil Nadu, Ravikumar discovers Iyothee Thass, whose work has witnessed a revival in the post- Ambdekar centenary phase, has recorded the fact that the Parayar were the first to publish Tamil magazines in the Madrass presidency. Ravi’s history of Tamil media journeys parallel to the history of main stream publication, he problematizes all the claims The Hindu makes to celebrate. For example, see the parallel narration of both of the history,
G. Subramaniya Iyer, who started The Hindu and Swadesamitram, founded the Madrass Maha Jana Sabha in association with Anandacharyulu, Rangaianh Naidu and Ramasamy Mudaliyar in May 1884. However eight years early, Pandit Iyothee Thass had founded the Advaisananda Sabha in the Nilgris in 1876, he founded the Dravida Maha Sabha in 1891. The Hindu was founded in September 1878 with an investment of just Rs.1 and 12 annas- that too as a loan. Started as a weekly with eight pages selling for 4 annas, it initially had a print run of only eighty copies. Fifteen years later, in October 1893, Rettaimalai Srinivasan founded the magazine Parayan. It was started as a monthly with four pages for 2 annas. The total cost of production, including the advertisement, was Rs. 10. His reason for starting a magazine like Parayan was ‘So, those belonging to the parayar community should come forward openly to say, ‘I am Pariah’. Otherwise, he cannot enjoy freedom. He will lead the life of the suppressed and remain poor’. There is no doubt that The Hindu, which has not bothered to employ a single dalit in its 125 years of history, had the same ‘progressive’ attitude even during the time of Subramaniya Iyer. So he goes on saying that dalits very actively realized the importance of media as a powerful tool, but the representation of dalits in mainstream media is very minimal.
 He quotes Jeffrey who says,
‘If you ask an Indian journalist, ‘do you know any dalit journalist?’ the answer could be a long pause and then, ‘could you give me a couple of days?’ sometimes it was a considerate ‘no’. There were some dalit journalists in Malayala Manorama, but they worked in less significant position. Ravikumar ends this dalit version of media history with the hope of dalit will someday understand their ability to produce a national daily as did they hundred years ago.

Kukai by cho.Dharman

This long short story is a mixture of different imageries and metaphors. The central character is an owl which comes as the savour of the poor people of the village. The relation of a child and its protection by an owl is very powerful. The new generation would be saved by the alien, dirty night bird. The owl also becomes a mother/sister figure of the story.  The couple, Cheeni and his wife were thinking to grow crow, but accidently they discovers an owl and understand owl is very much related to their life. The village is dry and un-rainy and Cheeni’s act again suspected the villagers, and they are doubtful of such a sinful act of worshipping an owl, instead of accepting the socially normed deities and this intensifies their anger. Cheeni and his wife are adorning their dresses with owl shaped.
Cheeni with his wife go for a journey forever. Then he gets chance to prove that owl is the protector of the village when he come across the Gengaiah Nayakkar.
‘Why then you want to leave?’
Dont you know everything? I can’t but worship the owl!’
‘You silly fellow! Who would ever worship mudevi in one’s house?’
‘Even if it’s mudevi, was it not the owl that saved my child and ensured my progeny?’
‘You are right. I take that point. For so many generations my family has only one child, and that child too happens to be a male. Ask your owl god to give me another child. Or at least ask it to make that one child a girl. If that happens, I build a big temple for the owl, in this very village, and consecrate it’.
‘Here smear it on your forehead. Apply some on your wife’ as well. Next year you will have a son. Then year after it will be a girl, but it will not live as a girl.’
This girl also very important, she embodies the owl life and saves the people.
When Cheeni comes back to his village after long years, everything is changed. In a village where not a blade of grass could be seen except during monsoon, there was greenery everywhere. The appearance of the owl is described as ‘Suddenly, the din of birds clamouring could be heard. The branches rustled as the birds flew out. They circled around one tree and cried out. Akkaiah Nayakkar stood up and walked towards it. Cheeni followed him. On a newly cut branch,, freshly sprouting at the edges, sat an owl. All the birds attacked the owl and to tried to chase it away. The owl fled jumping from trees to trees in search of a hideout. The birds kept chasing it away.
‘What’s this bird? I have never seen it here.’
‘Saami, this is the night bird. We call it kukai, the owl. This bird is the real owner, the authority of this forest. This primeval bird knows not swift flight. Nor can it hide to escape attack. The colourful birds which came later drove it out of the forest. The owl lamented and cried for justice. You do not know how to sing. Or cry. Or speak. You do not have colourful plumes. Nor can you dance with feathers fanned out. You are the sinner that eats flesh. The other birds drove away the owl with these words.

The story suddenly speaks about the dalits who were the first inhabitants of the earth. And despite their strong history and knowledge they forgot to retaliate to the late comers of colourful birds. The story is very powerful and written in a very skilful way. The translator of the story admits, Kukai is a challenging novel to translate. If the words peculiar to the karisal region pose difficulties for translation into mainstream standard language, the metaphorical brilliance and the narrative structure, which is not slotted into chapters and sub-sections, puts demands on creative abilities that academic translators may not posses’. (pg. 104)

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Here I point out some absents in the text. Lackness and silence are always projected in any work. Firstly for some dalits, this book is literally a ‘no alphabet in sight’. When it’s a strong word against the marginalization and sidelined, some dalit writers did not get a space in the book. At least skipping of two dalit writers is not justified. The absence of Kandal Pokkundan and Kaviyoor Murali raises some serious questions.
Who is Kallen Pokudan? Pokkudan is a dalit, in its true meaning. He rejected his autobiography for its imperfection. If we can consider a book is a child of an author, Pokkudan considers his first autobiography (incidentally it is the first new-dali autobiography of a dalit ever written in Malayalam!) as premature birth. After publishing, Kandalkadukalkkidayiel Ente Jeevitham was widely recognized. In its zenith of publicity Pokkudan recognized the silence of a dalit life in the autobiography. He understood the way the interviewer diverted the issue of caste over the idea of class. He disowned Kandalkkadukalkkidayil Ente Geevitham (My Life among the Mangroves). Thaha Madai, the chronicler, was accused of diluting the political aspects of the Dalit environmental activist’s life. To allegations that it paid little to no attention to Pokkudan’s Dalit identity and concomitant political implications, Thaha Madai retorts that the intention from the start was to focus on Pokkudan’s struggles as a local environmental activist, not his caste identity. After a controversy the publisher, DC Book decided on Pokkudan’s version and came out with a more comprehensive and more authentic version, titled Ente Geevitham (My Life), transcribed by his son Sreejith. That moment he started to write the dalit part of his life. As a reader, one has the right to see Pokkudan in the book. In the last pages of the book, Yesudasan pains saying there is no dalit autobiography born yet.
It is very significant that the dalit community in Kerala has not produced a single autobiography yet. I am not sure if this observation is true. The inference that only a community which has self-confidence can produce autobiographies may perhaps be true. Literacy and politics might play important roles as well. We must not forget the fact that Ayyankali, the greatest dalit of Kerala, was himself illiterate. (Emphasize added)
(TM Yesudasan; Towards a Prologue to Dalit Studies, pp. 625)

That means he has not at all aware about the fact that a dalit called Kallen Pokkudan has written his dalit life! His autobiography was published in 2007 by the prestigious publisher DC Books and it was celebrated for being the first of its kind of genre. Though the autobiography skipped the very serious life experience of Pokkudan, and projected his political and environmental activism, still the ill treatment of the caste people came in the book here and there. The important thing was his denial of a good name. Dalits were prohibited to christian their child with a good name. Why Pokkudan was named as Pokkudan, because his pokkil (umbilical cord was too long), so he got that name, Pokkudan right from his birth. He again wrote his dalit life with the help of his son and other dalit writers. But to him, at least the title of the book is very meaningful; ‘No Alphabet in Sight’.

Anyway when the reading comes to the Malayalam section, one feels the powerful current of the dalit writing has just stopped or at least faded away. In Tamil Nadu, the dalit creativity is very powerful, it is multi-faceted, sharp, poly-linear, colourful, but when we reaches to the ‘Malayalam Sector’, the whole dalit issue revolves round a single issue of land reform. Re-reading of much acclaimed Land Reform, the land issue itself,  and the govermentality of the Kerala government are very vital and these should be questioned, but when it is a dossier of dalit writing, it suddenly reduces its focus to this issue. For example, CK Janu gets a space in the book though she is not a dalit in a ‘literal sense’. If we consider the Maharashtra Dalit Panther’s definition, all adivasis, landless, women are coming under the category of dalit nad here CK Janu comes in this all these three category, but in her interview the difference between dalit and adivassi are more obvious. Each line of her interview says dalits and adivasis have different issues to look after. She says:
True, after Muthanga, a distance (between dalits and adivasis) emerges. With the build-huts protest, it is only the adivasis who get land, right? I think part of the problem was that even though there was a huge dalit presence in the protest, land was only given to adivasis. Also, the build hut protest happened in the heart of the governemtn, in the city. It also got the attention of and supprto fo the media. It was a struggle that got international recognition. But Muthanga was basically a different kind of a struggle. The build-huts protest was a symbolic struggle. The Muthanga protest was based on actually acquiring land. I have my doubts how  the dalit friends understood both these protests. Muthanga was more risky. There was the possibility that clashes, fightsand conflict would emerge. It is to be determined how many people have the stamina to go through with such a struggle.
(CK Janu, We Need to Build Huts all over Kerala, Again and Again, pp 444-5)

Here she actually raises serious psychic problem of dalit who attends any of the struggle. Dalits are afraid the situation wherever a stamina needs to go with a struggle and are suspecting the outcome of the struggle and its benefit. I was saying that Janu’s interview is included because she is talking about land struggle. Apart from this, if dossier really wants to include any adivasi, it must be Narayan who wrote the first adivasi novel in Malayalam literature and it got the  Kerala Sahitya Akademy Award.

Dalits are not a single, homogenous category. It spreads through different religion and castes. When a reader goes through the Malayalam section, s/he wonders the least depiction of the multiple dalit lives there. Comparing with Tamil Nadu section, this section is more linear and homogenous. Most of the writers are representing the Dalit Christians (true, their marginality is also very central, but when it is about the Malayalam dossier, all other sections are marginalized in the book). The 90% of the authors are either from South Kerala or Dalit Christian! It is not incidental. The life of northern Kerala dalits is minimal and silenced. Raghavan Atholi, Pradeepan Pampirikkunnu and M Kunhaman are the three lone representatives of the North Kerala. One wonders that do they have nothing to say in this discussion. And the description of some authors are irrelevant. For example, when Lovely Stephen is described, the descriptions goes on, ‘It was during this period she met TM Yesudevan, then president of the CSI Youth Movement and close to Dynamic Action. She married him in 1985 and both decided to continue their social activism. However, Lovely and Yesudevan maintained their contacts with the friends at Thiruvalla even after they shifted to Kurichi.