Monday, November 9, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
History and Other Works of Fiction
Indians have an odd relationship with History. Growing up, the subject along with the rest of the Arts is consigned to the bottom of the educational caste system. To have graduated in History either means you are academically challenged or you’re a women who’s about to be married off the day you graduate. Of course, it doesn’t help that the way it’s taught in school, it’ll take quite an effort to like it—I remember boob-drawing competitions on the grainy illustrations of historical figures on our text-books as a teacher whiled away the period by getting some chap to stand up and read the chapter.
Which is why it’s ironic to see incidents such as the Jaswant Singh-Jinnah controversy shaking up the country every now and then—History’s revenge on India, if you will.
This time though, an American film studio suffered for our confusion of History. The Indian Government alarmed that evil, foreign people were out to show that Nehru loved a women (a foreign, evil women, no less) other than his dead wife put so many curbs on the filming of Indian Summer (no use of the word, “love” and no smooches either) that those poor chaps had to give up the idea of the film altogether.
What was really fun though, was the self-righteous, almost naive outrage over the Government’s decision. People going on about how our leaders were human too, criticism of the Nehru-Gandhi family and, of course, quite a few Indian men clueless as to why Nehru bagging a white chick was being censored in the first place.
Nehru was of course human. But India’s first Prime Minister wasn’t human—he wouldn’t be allowed to be anything of that sort, really. The thing is, every nation needs its heroes and villains to exist. It needs a narrative. And so does India.
Of course, narratives aren’t easy to come by when you’re dealing with something as grand as a nation, so nation-builders do the next best thing—they make them up. Countries a lot more homogenous than India have had their narratives, er... tweaked to get things together and so has India. And what’s the best way to make a national narrative? Mess with the History, of course--as Mani Shankar Aiyer put it on a TV show: “if you can’t have Politics in History then where are you going to have it--Biology?”.
Pick up a regular high school text book and what you’ll get is a highly standardised version of the events leading up to 1947. Of course, it’s an impossible task to write a historical account that everyone thinks is right—after all, we want see ourselves in History, and therefore, make our own histories so than we can fulfil this wish. But this text-book History would be written keeping in mind what the powers-that-be think would be “correct”; not that an ultra-left version of or an RSS version is any less valid, per se.
To oppose this is to oppose the sun rising in the East. All you can hope the change this would be to, well, make yourself the powers-that-be. Simple.
What, on the other hand, is remarkable is that, considering how important a coherent narrative of nationhood is to India given her mind-numbing diversity, how little reconstruction of the historical narrative has been done. In other words, the official narrative hardly occupies the space that it does in, say, a China or a Russia.
Conflicting narratives are often aired in India, and while they might not always enter the public sphere lacking the political muscle power needed for that, they are still ubiquitous. That, of course, does not mean that conflicting narratives are always tolerated, no. Jaswant’s Singh’s expulsion is proof enough of that, however, what must also be kept in mind is the general frowning upon that the BJP received for this act from the chattering classes.
This attitude might be a outcome of democracy or put more correctly, democracy might be an outcome of this attitude, however, as a rule of thumb, historical narratives in the Subcontinent aren’t as rigid as, say, our equally populous neighbours across the Himalayas. Pakistan itself has a varying rainbow of opinions about its origins, although, the official narrative, mixed up as it is with a combustible blend of religion is a bit more difficult to challenge. Thus, even the more liberal versions of History would prefer to leave, say, Jinnah’s religious convictions out of the picture rather than saying that, “look here, everything aside, Jinnah was just about as much of an observing Muslim as Michael Jackson was Black”.
Which is why it’s ironic to see incidents such as the Jaswant Singh-Jinnah controversy shaking up the country every now and then—History’s revenge on India, if you will.
This time though, an American film studio suffered for our confusion of History. The Indian Government alarmed that evil, foreign people were out to show that Nehru loved a women (a foreign, evil women, no less) other than his dead wife put so many curbs on the filming of Indian Summer (no use of the word, “love” and no smooches either) that those poor chaps had to give up the idea of the film altogether.
What was really fun though, was the self-righteous, almost naive outrage over the Government’s decision. People going on about how our leaders were human too, criticism of the Nehru-Gandhi family and, of course, quite a few Indian men clueless as to why Nehru bagging a white chick was being censored in the first place.
Nehru was of course human. But India’s first Prime Minister wasn’t human—he wouldn’t be allowed to be anything of that sort, really. The thing is, every nation needs its heroes and villains to exist. It needs a narrative. And so does India.
Of course, narratives aren’t easy to come by when you’re dealing with something as grand as a nation, so nation-builders do the next best thing—they make them up. Countries a lot more homogenous than India have had their narratives, er... tweaked to get things together and so has India. And what’s the best way to make a national narrative? Mess with the History, of course--as Mani Shankar Aiyer put it on a TV show: “if you can’t have Politics in History then where are you going to have it--Biology?”.
Pick up a regular high school text book and what you’ll get is a highly standardised version of the events leading up to 1947. Of course, it’s an impossible task to write a historical account that everyone thinks is right—after all, we want see ourselves in History, and therefore, make our own histories so than we can fulfil this wish. But this text-book History would be written keeping in mind what the powers-that-be think would be “correct”; not that an ultra-left version of or an RSS version is any less valid, per se.
To oppose this is to oppose the sun rising in the East. All you can hope the change this would be to, well, make yourself the powers-that-be. Simple.
What, on the other hand, is remarkable is that, considering how important a coherent narrative of nationhood is to India given her mind-numbing diversity, how little reconstruction of the historical narrative has been done. In other words, the official narrative hardly occupies the space that it does in, say, a China or a Russia.
Conflicting narratives are often aired in India, and while they might not always enter the public sphere lacking the political muscle power needed for that, they are still ubiquitous. That, of course, does not mean that conflicting narratives are always tolerated, no. Jaswant’s Singh’s expulsion is proof enough of that, however, what must also be kept in mind is the general frowning upon that the BJP received for this act from the chattering classes.
This attitude might be a outcome of democracy or put more correctly, democracy might be an outcome of this attitude, however, as a rule of thumb, historical narratives in the Subcontinent aren’t as rigid as, say, our equally populous neighbours across the Himalayas. Pakistan itself has a varying rainbow of opinions about its origins, although, the official narrative, mixed up as it is with a combustible blend of religion is a bit more difficult to challenge. Thus, even the more liberal versions of History would prefer to leave, say, Jinnah’s religious convictions out of the picture rather than saying that, “look here, everything aside, Jinnah was just about as much of an observing Muslim as Michael Jackson was Black”.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Sour Grapes and Sweet Mangos
Mary Roy explains how the craze for an English-medium education in a country that is not an English-speaking one is killing, well, education in that country:
Indeed, the grapes are too high—India, a country which has consistently failed in providing even the basics to its people, would never be able to get enough of its people to speak the English language well enough—a fact that is at odds with the status that we accord to English. Of course, that doesn’t mean that we have to lie about the grapes being sour; nope. We just have to realise that the fruits that we have are good enough and we don’t need no grapes.
***
An earlier write-up on this topic: Talk English, Walk English
Watching these children being taught is to be amazed, and horrified. In an English recitation class in lower primary, for example, you will hear 40 children chanting in unison, with accompanying actions, “The fox jumped and jumped and jumped. The grapes were too high. The fox said, ‘The grapes are sour’.” The intonation must be just right—but understanding what you are saying is not a requirement.
Indeed, the grapes are too high—India, a country which has consistently failed in providing even the basics to its people, would never be able to get enough of its people to speak the English language well enough—a fact that is at odds with the status that we accord to English. Of course, that doesn’t mean that we have to lie about the grapes being sour; nope. We just have to realise that the fruits that we have are good enough and we don’t need no grapes.
***
An earlier write-up on this topic: Talk English, Walk English
Now You be Nice to Him
In spite of the criticism she’s faced from many quarters, Karen Armstrong is not a bad read really. However, I couldn’t but help have a chuckle at this :
It’s almost as if a harried mother is trying to make peace between two squabbling, preadolescent siblings.
Also, why God is just, and maybe sometimes too just: Devout criminal exposed by CCTV cameras.
Whether we like it or not, God is here to stay, and it’s time we found a way to live with him in a balanced, compassionate manner.
It’s almost as if a harried mother is trying to make peace between two squabbling, preadolescent siblings.
Also, why God is just, and maybe sometimes too just: Devout criminal exposed by CCTV cameras.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Funjabi
There is a certain something about Punjabis as a community--whether you like them or hate them, you really can’t ignore them. Take Punjabi music, for instance, or food (which is my pet peeve) the culture has a stranglehold on India.
For example, restaurants in Calcutta which serve Butter Chicken and Tandoori Chicken, take to calling themselves Indian restaurants, which is all right but I’d like to see one, just one, restaurant selling, say, Malabari Fish curry, call themselves likewise. Much could also be said about the proliferation of eateries named “Sher-e-Punjab” (that the owner would be a pot-bellied, balding Bong is an incongruence that most people have learned to paper over).
Thus, is it with great pleasure that I noted the name of this august establishment whilst on holiday in Mussoorie:
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I give you: Georgie Porgy Tandoori Chicken. While Georgie might be a likely candidate for sexual harassment lawsuits in the workplace when he grows up, but he did show the Punjabis, all right!
However, my joy at this coup was short-lived, because the very next day I saw this:
For example, restaurants in Calcutta which serve Butter Chicken and Tandoori Chicken, take to calling themselves Indian restaurants, which is all right but I’d like to see one, just one, restaurant selling, say, Malabari Fish curry, call themselves likewise. Much could also be said about the proliferation of eateries named “Sher-e-Punjab” (that the owner would be a pot-bellied, balding Bong is an incongruence that most people have learned to paper over).
Thus, is it with great pleasure that I noted the name of this august establishment whilst on holiday in Mussoorie:
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I give you: Georgie Porgy Tandoori Chicken. While Georgie might be a likely candidate for sexual harassment lawsuits in the workplace when he grows up, but he did show the Punjabis, all right!
However, my joy at this coup was short-lived, because the very next day I saw this:
Friday, October 16, 2009
PM Without a Single Nobel Seeks Light and Knowledge from Diwali
New Delhi: In an expansive gesture to Indians worldwide as much as to showcase his – and India’s -- multi-cultural affections, Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh on Wednesday lit a ceremonial Diwali lamp to ''symbolise victory of light over darkness.''
''This coming Saturday, Hindus, Jains, Sikhs and some Buddhists, here in India and around the world, will celebrate this holiday by lighting Diyas, or lamps, which symbolize the victory of light over darkness, and knowledge over ignorance,'' Singh said on the occasion, adding, ''And while this is a time of rejoicing, it's also a time for reflection, when we remember those who are less fortunate and renew our commitment to reach out to those in need.''
The Government kept it light and simple. A box of Indian mithai (sweets) was placed on some 150 chairs but there was no food fest or song and dance.
Singh, having lit the diya (a word he handled with aplomb) and wished everyone a ''Happy Diwali and Saal Mubarak,'' listened intently as the priest ended with ''Om Shanti Shanti.'' He returned the priest’s Namaste and then shook his hands before striding out.
Also, in an inconsequential development, Obama, the US President celebrated Diwali in the White house. However, this event was largely ignored by the Indian press, who are generally not starry-eyed about the West and find Diwali celebrations in their own country far more news worthy.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
The Nobelman: Obama Wins Peace Prize
Barack Obama, Supreme Commander of the most destructive conventional and nuclear military in the world, was awarded the Nobel Prize for peace on Friday.
The news was greeted with unbridled joy and a sense of vindication by many who believe that Obama is just one in a long line of prophets sent by Him to deliver peace, prosperity and good oratory to the world. However, there were quite a few doubting Thomases too who were a bit surprised that Obama could have risen so quickly and whether he deserved a Nobel at all.
The Nobel committee’s explanation for the award, though, was simple: “As the first non-Bush US President after George Bush, Obama was an obvious choice. Here’s a President who, in nine months, hasn’t started a war, hasn’t wrecked the global economy and hasn’t raped the English Language. What more could you want?”
George Bush reacted to the statement by reemphasising that “Human beings and fish can coexist peacefully”.
The Nobel, though, had an immediate effect as the US Government, in a move to celebrate the Prize, has ordered the cessation of drone attacks in Waziristan for a whole day.
The news was greeted with unbridled joy and a sense of vindication by many who believe that Obama is just one in a long line of prophets sent by Him to deliver peace, prosperity and good oratory to the world. However, there were quite a few doubting Thomases too who were a bit surprised that Obama could have risen so quickly and whether he deserved a Nobel at all.
The Nobel committee’s explanation for the award, though, was simple: “As the first non-Bush US President after George Bush, Obama was an obvious choice. Here’s a President who, in nine months, hasn’t started a war, hasn’t wrecked the global economy and hasn’t raped the English Language. What more could you want?”
George Bush reacted to the statement by reemphasising that “Human beings and fish can coexist peacefully”.
The Nobel, though, had an immediate effect as the US Government, in a move to celebrate the Prize, has ordered the cessation of drone attacks in Waziristan for a whole day.
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