A Riveting Read! “The Last Queen” by Chitra Divakaruni

A riveting read indeed! I finished reading this historic fiction in a day and a half when normally I take at least a couple of days even for novels that I like. Divakaruni has selected to write about a piece of history that that captures the reader completely. The storyline is an absolute page turner.

Divakaruni recognized the potential of this historic character from Sikh history, so she spun a tale that tugged at the heart and inspired at the same time. As always, the writer has chosen a brave woman as her protagonist, and tracks her life story from the time Jindan was a little girl born to a dog trainer in Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s royal court. How this poor and uneducated girl steals the heart of the illustrious Maharaja Ranjit Singh of Punjab, old enough to be her father, is a captivating story in itself. What makes Jindan even more special is the fact that the Maharaja, who has several ‘wives’ and many more concubines and ‘nautch girls’ in his ‘zennana’, promises Jindan that he will never take another wife after her, and he lives up to this promise. What made Jindan so dear and precious to Ranjit Singh – ‘The Lion of Punjab’? This little known Rani of Indian History has never gotten the recognition she deserves and Divakaruni’s novel does just that. Rani Jindan, the ‘last queen’ is beautiful and perhaps that is how she gets the Maharaja’s attention initially, but it is her courage, loyalty and her intelligence that win over the Maharaja and the reader as well.

Rani Jindan only eighteen years old learns how to be a ‘Rani’ after she is married to the Maharaja, yet when the time comes she easily dons the mantle of the Maharaja to make decisions that would keep the British at bay and ensure a free Punjab for a crucial period of time. At a time when women were entrenched in the practices of the ‘purdah’ and ‘Sati’, Rani Jindan challenged both those traditions to emerge as an equal to any man. Her political wile when dealing with the Khalsa, the Dogra, and other contenders to Ranjit Singh’s throne is shockingly charming, and it continues to be so even when this Rani is ousted from her kingdom, her son kidnapped, and she has to seek refuge in the remote kingdom of Nepal. Her indomitable spirits is unfazed, even soars in the direst of situations.

Rani Jindan is a multifaceted woman- a fiesty girl, a loyal wife, a passionate lover, a caring mother, a true friend, a wily politician, a smart strategist, an undaunted female, and a free spirit. Of all these roles, it’s Rani Jindan the mother who sometimes appears vulnerable to social norms and the reader understands why. As the mother of Maharaja Dalip Singh, a devout Christian raised in England when the Rani meets him after two plus decades, Jindan succumbs to maternal instincts and for the most part toes the line when dealing with Dalip Singh’s British environment. In the last part of the story the reader misses the bold Rani and wonders if she is ever going to emerge and regain what the British sneakily took away from her and her people.

I doubt that Rani Jindan would find anything more than a casual mention in any Indian History textbook even though there are chapters relegated to her husband, Maharaja Ranjit Singh and even to her son Dalip Singh. Sadly enough the ‘last queen’ will never get the recognition that other Sikh leaders and revolutionaries of the time do. However, after reading this novel I feel that even though Indians lament the loss of their invaluable Kohinoor Diamond that was taken from Ranjit Singh’s treasury and which now sits in the Royal History Museum of London, the real ‘Kohinoor’ of the Sikhs was their fearless and forward thinking ‘Last Queen’ Rani Jindan.

Jhumpa Lahiri -Writer or Translator?

It was a literary event I was looking forward to. I had not heard Jhumpa Lahiri speak about her writing ever before, consequently, I was there at McCarter Theater with an indescribable set of expectations. It was a 45 minute discussion with Lahiri lead by Zahid Chaudhary who currently teaches British and Post Colonial Literature at Princeton Univ. The discussion was followed by a Q & A that, unfortunately, left much to be desired. Given that I did not pose a question myself, I am equally to blame for the lack luster Q & A. The thing was that the handing out of the ‘question cards’ went unnoticed by the audience, me included, as it happened during the 45 minute discussion itself, so when the Q & A started there were many of us who had questions for Lahiri, but those questions were never penned.

The discussion revolved around Lahiri’s introspective approach to her writing and to the writing process in general, and she dwelled a lot on her new role as a translator. Frankly, it’s hard to understand her new found love for translation and for writing in a foreign language . I wonder whether Lahiri the creative writer is being pushed over by Lahiri the translator with her obsession for linguistics. Lahiri is often speaking about the enormous power of words, and how she is carrying the weights of several dictionaries in her head, to the point that she believes ‘the limits of my language mean the limits of my world’. It’s almost like the creativity within her has laid down arms and is now subservient to the linguist in her, and that would be a shame. For a writer of such tremendous imagination and creativity as is exhibited in her novels such as The Namesake & The Interpreter of Maladies, I was surprised to know that Lahiri was going to spend the next few years translating Ovid. Not that being a translator is wrong or less important, but for Lahiri it seems to be limiting her. She herself admits in one of her interviews that translating can be “psychologically …destabilizing. To spend a lot of time with your head in dictionaries is to understand the extent to which your head is made up of dictionaries.” Her role of translator is indeed baffling. For a writer of her caliber to want to write in a second language is somewhat understandable, but then wanting to translate that work appears stretched. Is she experiencing a writer’s block, or is the muse of creativity evading her for her to want to spend lengths of time translating?

The McCarter Theater discussion was mostly centered around how Lahiri wrote and translated her latest book “Roman Stories”, and I left the theater wondering whether Jhumpa Lahiri the writer would be able to overcome the web of limitation that Lahiri the translator seems to have woven around herself. I personally prefer Jhumpa Lahiri the writer over Lahiri the translator, and I hope she stops hiding behind this new role of translator that she has taken on with such fervor.

“I Do”

Soft soothing sounds

hosted by a gracious green around

the hearts did hush

in a setting so lush

a finch a robin

& the berry bushes

the bee the bom

& a flutter above

a breeze in frolic

wispy white clouds

carelessly cruising above

a sea of azure.

Brightly the sun shone

turning yellow to gold.

Bountiful blessings

to a simply said

“I do.”!

कहानियाँ

इन के तले , दबा जा रहा हूँ मैं ।

यह चादर कहानियों की

ओढ़े चला जा रहा हूँ मैं ।

कहाँ कहाँ से आई यें,

वह जो बताइ हुइ

कई बिनाई हुई,

किसी ने सुनाई हुई हुई

अन्तर में समाई हुई,

फैलाई या फिर समेटी हुई,

किताबों में लिखी हुई,

पन्नों में दिल के, कहीं दबी हुई,

कुछ सुन्दर अक्षरों

और भगोड़े शब्दों से बुनी हुई।

उठा दो इसे, यह चादर मनगढ़ंत आशाओं की,

इन कहानियों का किरदार बन के रह गया हूँ मैं ।

Helen Simonson’s Absorbing Read – “Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand”

What is it about romance that makes this world more palatable, even rosier! Helen Simonson’s novel “The Last Stand of Major Pettigrew” does just that. It looks at racial tensions, gender disparity, old age, and a dysfunctional family unit with humor and empathy, and that is what makes the novel so enchanting.

The story revolves around an unlikely and disapproved liaison between a retired Englishman and a Pakistani widow both of who live in a small and scenic village in England. The picturesque setting and the witty dialogue cleverly camouflage the racism and snobbishness that exist in the village, and the reader for the most part enjoys a humorous and heartwarming tale of romance. However, every now and again, there are dialogues that could well be aphorisms about gender issues, and human relationships. Luckily, they don’t dampen the light hearted banter between characters which makes the novel so enjoyable. The novel is a must read for an older reader as it explores the changes, both personal and social, that come about in an older person’s life many of which are hard to face and others hard to accept; like Shelly said, “Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thoughts.” Again, there is nothing really ‘sad’ about the novel. It is upbeat, easy to read, and funny; yet, for those with a finer sensibility, it will leave you some resonating questions.

Ponderings

What he is, is but a fast fading shadow of what he was and has been:


A feisty

forester.
A father

A stalwart
sportsman.
A survivor
A botanist
breadwinner.
A bulwark

An energetic
life-lover.
A yogi
A powerhouse
protector.
A parent
My rational, proud, and dependable Pappa;
the stoic, an omniscient presence in my life. 

Visiting India’s Capital – New Delhi

Delhi has been the capital of India for several hundred years. Even when India was ruled by the British and the Mughals, Delhi was the capital, though under different names. Clearly, Delhi has been a privileged city in the Indian subcontinent for at least two hundred years. However, for an outsider it is a challenge to figure out why Delhi continues to enjoy this privilege.  Is it because the Rashtrapati Bhawan happens to be housed here, or perhaps Lyutens Parliament House was built in this city? Outside of this, there appears to be no justifiable reason why the second most polluted city in the world, and one that competes to be the rape capital of the world is held in such high esteem by its citizens in the world’s largest democracy.
Even though I don’t live in New Delhi anymore, I have lived in this city for an extended period of time, and in the last two decades I have been visiting it quite frequently. In spite of which, Delhi still remains an enigma to me. It is a city that has inspired and lured conquerors and artists for centuries, yet their experiences, writings, and representations of Delhi, though varied, have only added to the enigma of this ancient city. There is no one defining aspect to Delhi other than the fact that it is and has been a nation’s capital. Artists and writers have tried long and hard to capture the entirety of Delhi’s ethos; every now and again an artist is able to capture or highlight one facet, a mood, a characteristic of this vibrant metropolis.  Delhi transcends, or else defies definition, and that may be the very reason why ‘dilli’, as it is referred to by its residents, has captured the imagination of so many rulers, artists, and writers. Each one wanting to find meaning in the ever evasive Delhi, manages only to provide and project a myopic and unilateral vision of this dynamic city, and are often disappointed with the outcome. For example, the last Mughal King of Delhi, Bahadur Shah Zafar, in one of his most soulful lyrics laments that this city ‘could not offer a couple of yards of earth to hold his grave’. Khushwant Singh, a writer and journalist wrote a most gripping novel depicting Delhi metaphorically as a ‘slut’.  Ahmed Ali in his novel ‘Twilight in Delhi’ captures it’s elusive nature when he said  “Delhi, built hundreds of years ago, fought for, died for, coveted and desired, built, destroyed and rebuilt, for five and six and seven times, mourned and sung, raped and conquered, yet whole and alive, lies indifferent”. 

Delhi has, indeed, evoked some very strong emotions in many brilliant and imaginative minds, and when one visits this city it is easy to see why. Daunting as it is, I have tried to capture and document the various moods and colors of this enigmatic city during my stay here this summer…..

More to follow….


On The Fall of a Leaf – "killing time without injuring eternity"?

Another leaf falls.
A testimony
That I am.
To what end?
I know not.
I continue to be;
absorbed.
In a charade,
of chores,
until..
another leaf falls.
A reminder
that
this too shall pass
like it did
the day before.
Forget I will,
like I did
the day before.
While
another leaf falls.
A fear
Will another be?
Just as green?
With flowers
for company?
And then what?
A new canvas?
A new pallet?
With hues familiar
to ponder upon?
Just as..
another leaf falls..
I react.
To move the plant
into the sun.
And water it.
Even talk to it.
For it must grow!
Healthy, happy, tall
And…
Another leaf falls.

‘Before the Rains’ – A Role-Reversed Sequel to E. M. Forster’s ‘Passage to India’?

<!– /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} –The storyline of Before the Rains did not enthrall, yet it isn’t a movie I could forget easily, and for two reasons: its surreptitiously sensuous setting and its obvious parallels with E. M. Forster’s Passage to India.

The movie is set during the British colonial period in India, sometime in the 1930s, and it is perhaps a low budget film which accounts for its cast and its low key marketing (if any at all). It is the rich and vibrant colors of Kerala, the setting of the movie, that hold the audience in complete awe. This rapture soon melts into a willing submission of the audience, almost a seduction, to the luscious landscape of South Western India. The photography in the film has opened up a new tourist haven – a tropical coastal paradise. I wouldn’t be surprised if this movie does to Kerala what Brokeback Mountain did to Wyoming.



Apparently, ‘Before the Rains’ is adapted from the story “Red Roofs” presented by Israeli director Dany Verete in his movie Yellow Asphalt; Red Roofs is about an illicit relationship between an Israeli Jewish farmer and his Bedouin maid. However, it was not this Israeli connection that I was constantly reminded of during the movie; it was E.M.Forster’s characters, Mrs. Moore and Mr. Fielding, from Passage to India that kept flashing in my mind. Director Sivan’s chief protagonist, TK (Rahul Bose), is the Indian counterpart of Forster’s Fielding in Passage to India. Both characters are intelligent and sensitive human beings, who though wishing to be loyal to their own, are bipartisan in thought and ultimately in their actions as well which ultimately leads to major changeovers in the plot. In Forster’s novel, it is the native Indian, Dr. Aziz, who is accused of a physical assault on a memsahib, whereas in Before the Rains it is Planter Moore who is under suspicion for having an affair with his married Indian housekeeper. The parallel does not end there; there is a Mrs. Moore in the movie, who, coincidentally, has the very name of her Forsterian counterpart. She, like the other Mrs. Moore from Passage to India, is aware of the real nature of the relationship between her husband and the maid, and yet decides to keep quiet about it. Mrs Moore in Passage to India cannot live with the guilt of having kept silent on the Malabar incident and dies on her way to England; the Mrs. Moore of this film knowing the truth, cannot voice it, but decides to go back to England after ending her marriage.



As I said at the beginning, I haven’t been able to forget the movie. I’m still trying to figure out whether the obvious parallels between Before the Rains and E.M. Forster’s Passage to India were a chance happening, or did Santosh Sivan plan this movie as a role-reversed sequel to E. M. Forster’s Passage to India to explore the power and volatility of forbidden/ illicit relationships within a charged socio-political setting.



I would watch this one, if only for its seductive setting – Kerala.

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