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Thursday, January 13, 2011

Maghi Tyohaar: The Goat Festival

Every winter, in the Sangrah region of Himalayas,
it snows. There is no central heating. It gets cold.
Vegetables are in distant cities. In each house, a goat
hangs in the basement. Each day, a piece of it is cut
 and cooked. Goats are sacrificed with jhatka – single cut – as Hindu law
dictates and the Gods are offered bhog – the first bite of the meat.

Brahmins of the South cannot touch meat.
(Ask them to survive without it in the Himalayas).
Here religion sanctions the piety of every cut.
(And what can preserve the dead better than the cold?)
A portion – liver, leg – is gifted to Sahibs, the law-
keepers. (The men of government love a scapegoat.)

Since prosperity is weighed by the size of a goat,
and for months, they must eat only its meat,
as supplies are short, and the landslides cut
their contact with the world beyond Himalayas,
they worship the goat, drink its milk, battle the cold
using shawls hand-knit from goat-wool. As per the tribal law

on the day of Sakranti festival, every son-in-law
arrives carrying a hind leg of his goat.
This is a ritual of centuries. No one gets cold
feet. The caliber of the family is judged by their meat.
Its believed that the eternal saints still roam in Himalayas
and for them, at the Devta's temple, the faithful leave the cut
head, the cut heart, and also atman - the soul, which cannot be cut.
Devta accepts honest meat, and discards even gems of an outlaw.
Simple men have simple logic for their Gods in Himalayas,
and Gods, specially Agni, the Fire God , whose mount is the Goat
God, believers insist, relishes the pious dish of its meat.
The food in hills is scarce, so they say, "The cold

climate is a blessing. You stay closer in the cold.
Blessed is the goat that gives us life with every cut
and turns into Devta's prasad – holy even as meat."
Here people who toil in harsh terrain, know no laws
or ways to break any. Live, they say, like a goat –
grazing, bleating, jumping, and procreating in silent Himalayas.
They explain: "Main, main (Me, me) it says, it sins – so it is meat, silenced cold.
When you are in Himalayas, in the land of Gods, even when you're cut
if you're meek, by his law, you attain nirvana. Only the blessed are reborn as goat!"

(Published first in "Atlanta Review"; also published in "Saga of a Crumpled Piece of Paper")

Notes: Hindus believe that we are continuously born and reborn as various species, the atman - the soul- is everlasting element that emerges from and at last recombines with the param-atman (the ultimate soul) the ageless, formless, everlasting, omnipotent, omnipresent God.
Animal sacrifice is practiced only in certain tribal regions, though a hundred year back, it was a common practice among many Hindus. 
Devta means God or demigod. Agni or god of fire is special as it purifies everything. Agni is invoked at the Hindu marriage, during most Vedic rituals as well as at death, for Agni consumes the dead body, (Hindus burn their dead). When a goat is sacrificed to Agni, it is said to promote good health in the man who makes the sacrifice.




Published first in Atlanta Review, April 2009

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Fatherless

His army sergeant, two-months-at-home father
was a cigarette-smell-achkan he embraced                                  
in the wooden almirah kept in his mother's room.                       
His scarred-on-chest father was a smiling photo-frame
he often touched, by using a chair to scale the table.
His word-of-mouth father was his mother's reading voice
that came home, in blue, 'inland' envelopes,
glowing with rusty, red stamps from Border posts.

achkan: Indian coat
almirah: closet
(First published in Breakwater Review)

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Books read in 2011

Read in 2011 (91 = 55 + 36; NF 19) 

ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS -- FICTION (17): (Ramayana by William Buck), Shankuntala by Kalidasa (translated by Arthur W. Ryder), (Mrichchakatika), Palace Walk by Naquib Mahfouz, Possessed by Dostoevsky (translated by Constance Garnett), The Charterhouse of Parma by Strendahl, If on a Winter Night a Traveler by Italo Calvino, Arabian Nights, The Tale of the Unknown Island by Jose Saramago (translated by Margaret Jull Costa), Cain by Jose Saramago, Ladies Paradise by Emile Zola, (Confessions by Saint Augustine), Children of Gebelwaki by Naquib Mahfouz, Eugenie Grandet by Honore de Balzac, (The Trial by Franz Kafka), The Wife and other stories by Anton Chekov, Snow Country by Yasunari Kawabata

NOVEL / FICTION IN ENGLISH (16): Europeans by Henry James, Luka and the Fire of Life by Salman Rushdie, Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift, Down and out in Paris and London by George Orwell, Boy  by Roald Dahl, Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain, Dork by Sidin Vadukut, Homage to Catalonia by George Orwell, No Longer at Ease by Chinua Achebe, Chef  by Jaspreet Singh, Palm Wine Drinkard by Amos Tuttola, Rain and Other Southern Sea Stories by W. S. Maugham, Fox by D. H. Lawrence, Narrative of the life of Frederick Douglass, An American Slave by Frederick Douglass, Flappers and Philosophers by F. Scott Fitzgerald, Life's Handicap by Rudyard Kipling.

NON-FICTION (8): Hindoo Holiday by J. R. Ackerley, Imaginary Homelands by Salman Rushdie, (November Boughs by Walt Witman), The Agricola and The Germania by Tacitus, (Godel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid by Douglas Hofstadter), Hopes and Impediments: Selected Essays by Chinua Achebe, Travels of Marco Polo.

ENGLISH POETRY (28): Birdsong by Rumi (translated by  Coleman Barks), Meghaduta by Kalidasa (translated by Arthur W. Ryder), Aeneid by Virgil (translated by C Day Lewis), Gilgamesh (translated by David Ferry), Dropping the bow: Poems from Ancient India  by Andrew Schelling, Ritusamhaar by Kalidasa (translated by Chandra Raman), Red Suitcase by Naomi Shihab Nye, One Handed Basket Weaving by Rumi (translated by Coleman Barks), Intimations by Anna Akhmatova, The Pupil by WS Merwin, Possibility of Being  by Rainer Maria Rilke, The Theban Plays by Sophocles (translated by EF Watling), Poems of Nizam Hikmet (trans. by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk Blasing), Teahouse of the Almighty by Patricia Smith, Collected Poems by Jorge Luis Borges, Dancing in Odessa by Ilya Kaminsky, The Bacchae, Medea and Hippolytus by Euripides (translated by Phillip Vellacot), Jejuri by Arun Kolatkar, Tulip in the Desert: A Selection of the Poetry of Muhammad Iqbal (translated and edited by Mustansir Mir), Don Juan by Lord Byron, Songs of Kabir (translated by Arvind Krishna Mehrotra), Here there was once a Country by Venus Khoury-Ghata (trans. by Marilyn Hacker), The River of Heaven: The Haiku Poetry of Basho, Buson, Issa, and Shiki (translated by Robert Aitken), Unincorporated Persons in the Late Honda Dynasty by Tony Hoagland, The Garden of Heaven: Poems of Hafiz by Hafiz (trans. by Getrude Bell), Shikwa aur Jawab-i-Shikwa by Mohammad Iqbal (trans. by Khushwant Singh).

Hindi / Urdu / Sanskrit/ Punjabi (3+7): Gaban by Munshi Premchand Pratinidhi Kavitayein & Meri Shresht Kavitayen  by Harivansh Rai Bachchan, Rashmirathi &; Urvashi by Ramdhari Singh Dinkar, Raghuvansh by Kalidasa (Hindi prose translation), Madhushala and Kya Bhoolon Kya Yaad Karun by Harivansh Rai Bachchan, Iqbal ki kavitayein, Umar Khayyam ki Rubaiyan by Harivansh Rai Bachchan,

PHILOSOPHY / RELIGION / MYTHOLOGY  (0+1+6): A Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell, King Jesus  by Robert Graves, (Raja Yoga by Swami Vivekananda), Exhortation to the Greeks (trans. W. Wilson), The Rich Man's Salvation (trans. P. M. Barnardand To the newly baptized (a fragment) (trans. J. Patrick) by Clement of Alexandria, The Panchatantra (trans by Patrick Olivelle).

MAHABHARATA (by Mahrishi Ved Vyas; tr. by Kisari Mohun Ganguly) (0/18): 

POPULAR SCIENCE / ECONOMICS (5): (In the blink of an eye by Andrew Parker), The Worldly Philosophers by Robert L. Heilbroner, (Why Marx was Right by Terry Eagleton), Economics Explained by Robert L. Heilbroner and Lester Thurow, The Lives of a Cell: Notes of a Biology Watcher by Lewis Thomas.



Favorite reads of the year (Fiction / Novels /Short Stories/ Non-fiction)
1) Palace Walk and Children of Gebelwaki by Naquib Mahfouz
2) Possessed by Dostoevsky (translated by Constance Garnett)
3) Arabian Nights
4)  Homage to Catalonia by George Orwell  
5) Rain and Other Southern Sea Stories by W. S. Maugham
6) Imaginary Homelands by Salman Rushdie and  

7)  Poems of Nizam Hikmet (trans. by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk Blasing)
8) Pratinidhi Kavitayein, Meri Shresht Kavitayen, Madhushala, Kya Bhoolon Kya Yaad Karun  
     and Umar Khayyam ki Rubaiyan by Harivansh Rai Bachchan,
9) Rashmirathi & Urvashi by Ramdhari Singh Dinkar, 
10)  The Worldly Philosophers by Robert L. Heilbroner
11) Hopes and Impediments: Selected Essays by Chinua Achebe
12) Life's Handicap by Rudyard Kipling 

(If I am through more  than 50% of the book, it goes into 2010 category, otherwise, it appears in the next year. See here for the books read in 2010, with the selection of favorite ten!)

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Hindi Kavita: Dilli



दिल्ली 

फिर के आये जहाँ फिर आये कहाँ दिल्ली,
तुझसे दिल लगाये वो जाये कहाँ दिल्ली?

एक लत है, हर कश में जहर भरती है, 
पर चेहरे से हटाये कैसे धुंध-धुंआ दिल्ली ?

धमनियों में रेंगते हुए जीवाणु हैं या विषाणु हैं?
करोड़ों धर्मी-अधर्मी बसाए कैसे यहाँ दिल्ली?

होकर खाख फ़िर शाख, फ़िर ईमारत बना देती है,
कैसे बेबसी भुला बीहड़ में उगाये गुलिस्तान दिल्ली?

हर युग में प्यासा फिरा कोई ग़ालिब, मीर तेरी गली,
क्यूँ अमृत या मह न पिलाए, यमुना, धौला कुआं दिल्ली?

जहाँ अहम् से ऊंचा क़ुतुब मीनार, खून-सा लाल किला है,   
वहीँ कैसे पीरों, मीरों, फकीरों को दिलाये जुबान दिल्ली?

ठोकरों के हिस्से में भी इतिहास के जहाँ रोड़े है,
कल की कोखों में कैसे कमल-कल्पना पनापाये वहाँ दिल्ली ?

वेश्याओं की पान्जेबों में कितनी गृहस्थियाँ खनके,
क्यूँ आताताइयों के आगे घुटने टिकाये बेजुबान दिल्ली? 

चांदनी चौक से शौक शुरू कर, और जा जमुना पुल पार,
घाम-गाँव गँवा आशाएं रिक्शा में घुमाएं शहंशाह दिल्ली!

अदना है तो अदब देख, सरगना है तो लहू का सबक देख,
हर हुक्के में अदा या विपदा का फलसफा सुलगाये वेवफा दिल्ली |

भूखा रहा न कोई यहाँ, ना यहाँ भर पेट भी कोई खा पाया है,
हसरतें ज़र्रे-ज़र्रे में बड़ी-छोटी छुपाये लुभाए जानेजहाँ दिल्ली |

मुल्क की मल्लिका है, पर क्यूँ दागी, अभागी है, धोखेबाज़ है?
क्यूँ विरासत की सियासत से हुई है बेदर्दी, बेईमान दिल्ली?

अर्जी पढ़ मेरी, एक सूफी सुर में सुरूर में फिर खुद को डूबा,
भूल जा कि है तेरी खूनी हिन्दू-मुसलमानी दास्ताँ दिल्ली | 

किस तरकीब से जागेगी तेरे जहन में पाकीज़ा प्रेम की धुनी?
और कितनी मस्जिदें, दरगाहें, मंदिर, बनायें तेरे यहाँ दिल्ली?

विवेक से पूछो तो कहता है तेरे मिट-मिट के उठ जाने में सबक है,
यूँ तलवार, अहंकार माटी में मिलाये-उगाये तुझसा कोई कहाँ दिल्ली ?

Friday, December 24, 2010

Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martel

Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martel opens with a line "Henry's second novel, written, like his first, under a pen name had done well". The prophecy, in the terms of sales receipts and author advance, may hold true for the author of the celebrated, award winning Life of Pi. But in this review, we'll examine if this novella would enter a reader's world as "had done well" and since the author banks on our familiarity with Life of Pi, we'll like to know if both books can be placed on the same bookshelf? To read every book as a stand alone piece of work is always my attempt as a reader. The pleasure in reading multiple books from great writers lies in the possibility of entering a different world through every successive novel. The great pleasure in writing lies in chartering characters and casting scenes that live on the page irrespective of what you had created once or will create later in life. Yet in equal measure, we love books when they evoke or stir emotion and intellect through images and words. Yann Martel has skills with words, many pages reaffirm his ability in weaving pretty sentences, but as far as the story goes, Martel fails to deliver a masterpiece expected from his desk. 

Life of Pi is a delightful read, as the voyage of a boy with three animals, including a tiger, presents endless situations and scenes that surprise, scare, excite, amuse, educate us. Animals play an important part in Beatrice and Virgil as well, but the mere presence of animals in a story does not always make the allegories effective. In search for a story that would be as gripping as his former novel, Yann Martel wanders into a taxidermist's shop, and creates a feature full of stuffed animals and stinted humans. The holocaust angle in the story is perhaps the weakest plot device used by the author, for it leaves the reader dissatisfied with the whole series of events and dialogues chartered in the book. In the first chapter, the author shows the protagonist (who is an author too) grappling with the idea of writing about holocaust "in a non-literal and compact way." Later, when publishers wish to know what the book is all about, the protagonist says: "My book is about representations of the Holocaust. The event is gone; we are left with stories about it. My book is about a new choice of stories." Perhaps Martel's protagonist expresses the author's own intentions quite well, and while one cannot doubt the intentions of the novelist here, the final piece lacks the harmony and humanity he wished to capture and portray. Martel within the novel as well as as an author raises the expectations that he fails to meet! Sorry Yann, I will quote by paraphrasing from your book again: "as it stands now the novel lacks drive and unity."

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Hindi Kavita: dost lai


दोस्त लई

तू फ़िक्र कोई न करियो दोस्त, न घबराइयो न डरियो दोस्त,
उम्र दा मामला है, तू जलदबाज़ी में कदम न धरियो दोस्त |

दूर से कुछ और लगती है, करीब से देखो कुछ और निकलती है,
यह माया से भरी गलियां हैं, तू आँखें खुल्ली रखियो दोस्त |

पिच्छे क्या छुटया, क्या करना? तू तेरे आँखें आगे देखें, तू आगे बड़ना,
किवाड़ जो बंद कर आया, उनके चौखट पे सर न पटकियो दोस्त |

हुआ कुछ भी न गर साल, चार साल, या लात, हड्डी, पसली टूटी,
घाव भर जानगे, फसलां उग जानगी, तू क्लेश न करियो दोस्त |

चाव कर कितना भी, जो पाया-गंवाया यहीं रह जाना है,
तू लकड़-पत्थर-लश्कारे लई, कर्म फोड़, जन्मां दा ह्रास न कर बैठियो दोस्त |

चिल्लर लेकर चलने वाले बैठे हैं भिखारी गली-गली, भ्रष्टाचारी महल-महल,   
तू मयंक है, कौवा नहीं हंस है, तू अम्बर की ऊँचाइयाँ पर रहियो दोस्त |

बंद कर मुट्ठी, दे सर पे चोट, जान है अर्थ क्या, व्यर्थ क्या, सिद्दार्थ क्या,
कर ईमान बुलंद, उठ कर आँख खुली, हौंसले और विवेक दा दामन न छडियो दोस्त |

(Written in a very colloquial tone, perhaps in the tone and style of conversations in my Chandigarh hostel: while listening to the audio, imagine two friends sitting in a room, and one giving advice to the other.)

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Breadwinner

Down the hill, over pebbles and rocks,
we chase after him, he after the stream,
and rush into an old stone-slate hut.

Out comes the gush of his laughter.
We are panting a chorus now. Our hands
on our knees, and cheeks, city-red.

Now he, my father, is a little boy
flaunting his 'phoren' toy, while we, 
twenty-first-century camera kids,
witness the wooden chakra,
and the chant of the millstones. 

He unites with his fourteen-year-old
fatherless self, carrying a sack of wheat 
or corn for three miles. His voice 
cues our lips into smiles, till
dew descends into my eyes
wishing to embrace 
his fifty-year-old feet.

He has shouldered three 
generations—his mother, 
siblings, our mama and us,
and he is still humming like the stream,
like the grindstone. 

                           He is the wheat,
the watermill, the roti in my mouth.


Previously published in The Cortland Review, with Audio