Yuganta (end of an era): Irawati Karve, Book Review

Tags

arjun, arjuna, bhishma, book review, draupadi, irawati karve, karn, karna, Krishn, Krishna, Kunti, Mahabharata

She wields the pen like a scimitar and her mind like a microscope.
As she dissects various personas of Mahabharata, she is brutal, incisive and decisive. Passionate (in her arguments) yet dispassionate (towards individuals).

Her take on Mahabharata is not linear narrative; but deals with individual personas, as she scoffs at the halo around them and simultaneously humanizes and demystifies them.
Many scholars usually steer clear of Krishna

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Shyam chi Aai: Sane Guruji, Book Review

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Aai, book review, Konkan, Sane Guruji, Shyam, Swati Snacks

Pure, lucid, lilting, heart-felt.
This is sheer mother-worship spoken from a child-like innocent man. Sane Guruji, a freedom–seeker on Gandhian principles reminisces on his childhood  in Palgad and Dapoli (modern time rural Konkan). It explores the world of little Shyam and his mother Yashoda, through short but searing real-life snippets.

The protagonist, Shyam’s mother is the universal mother taking care of her children and household. Her USP is her simplicity, her profound wisdom, her fierce streak of self-esteem, her struggle to  compensate her 5 children by instilling values for what they missed out in terms of wealth.
Sample this: 1] Little Shyam steals money from a guest to buy books for his further education. When his mother learns of it, she doesn’t give elaborate lectures. Just a stunning burning truth, ‘Your first few lessons stated that stealing is a sin. If you have still not learnt those well, what makes you think you are qualified for the next level?‘. Oh btw, she does give him brownie points for owning up to his crime.

2. Shyam’s swimming classes- The timid boy tries his hardest to hide and bunk classes. His mother, though, has no intentions of mollycoddling his cowardice. She hunts him down, whacks him into submission(none of that spare-the-rod nonsense)  and makes sure he learns swimming. Her love was not meek and did not encourage meekness.

3. Her Somvati fast, a ritual requiring her to offer 108 pieces of offering to God. She does not use their abject poverty as an excuse to fail in her offering. She offers 108 colored stones and explains to an embarrassed Shyam: God loves everything he has created. He would especially appreciate her offering; would suck on these sweetmeats for years together without exhausting his supply.

Her simple rejection of untouchability as a mask for inhumanity, her caring attitude towards wounded birds, dying cows and to her personal favorite cat; her subtle lessons on brotherly love; I could just go on and on.

her life, unfortunately , spirals downward from opulence to bankruptcy, from a bungalow to a hut, from losing her children to poverty, to plague, to smallpox. What she never loses is her dignity and values.

Don’t miss this one. Every single incident is a gem. It cannot but leave you stirred to the core.
Additional stars for the detailed descriptions of rural life; the recipes for delicious ancient dishes like Pangi , Patole and Shrikhand-wadi. Note: For the connoisseurs, Pangi is available as a specialty at Swati Snack center, Tardeo, Mumbai. Enjoy!  The film based on the book also won a National Award.

Indian Magic: Weight , Age and (Indian) Time.

Tags

Humor, Indian Government office, RTO., tedious routine

Q 1: How much time does it take for a flimsy, fairy-light ,12x 8 cm object to travel across 50 sq ft?

Q 2: Can the object gain ‘weight and age’ at the end of its journey?

Answer 1 : Two hours (minimum).

Answer 2:   Yes. It gains ‘weightage’.

Venue: Mumbai RTO, to get International Driver License.  

The agent (Yes, I believe in zero-corruption, when & if it suits me) asked me to carry original Passport and original Visa (Err… the visa sits within the passport. I wanted to show off, but refrained wisely), 3 photos (which usually means keep 3 plus 2 extra. Just in case.) and Yourself in person, Madam.

I calculated the Luggage I needed to tag along. In addition to the above essentials, I added

[1] goggles (Indian Summer at mid-day),

[2] a 5-star chocolate bar (weightless, portable and apt to combat hypoglycemia),

[3] a water bottle (only 200 ml. The human kidney produces urine at the rate of 1 ml per min. The capacity of an average bladder is 500 ml maximum. 60 official minutes, plus 60 unofficial minutes, plus travel time, so …).

The agent arrived dot on-time. This promised to be a good day! He beckoned and I followed. A serpentine queue curved outside Window 56. He contemptuously breezed past it; waved me into an empty room and seated me in a chair.

I felt the baleful glare of at least 15 pairs of queue-eyes.

‘This officer will arrive in 10 minutes. Take signature. Then go back to window 39 and call me.” agent said before he sauntered off for another job.

I heaved in relief, since the 15 pairs of eyes waited outside another officer’s cabin. Technically, I was not gate-crashing into their line. I pointedly turned my chair the other way and felt the bubbling undercurrent of irritation die down.

I observed the applicants covertly. All well-educated, well dressed, all of them clutching a sheaf of papers in one hand and a Blackberry/Apple iphone in the other. All waiting in the impatiently-patient impotent frustration of Indian applicants to Government organizations.

2 men tried to sneak ahead and were slammed back in their place with a  ‘Excuse me, we are standing in queue.” The tone was polite, so were the words. I wondered how soon both could degenerate into a street collar-fight. But, alas, the 2 trespassers moved back sheepishly.

‘Indians!’ I shook my head in righteous disapproval, just as the khaki-clad peon approached me, “Wait outside Madam.” he suggested .

‘Umm, I am waiting for this officer.” I pointed to the yawning chair.

“Same queue. Wait outside.” he said firmly.

The front-row grinned in sadistic glee. Thankfully, the ones beyond them could not witness my fall from grace.

I kept my face carefully expressionless and whipped out my mobile. I dialed my home number, knowing perfectly well there was nobody at home. “Hello, hello. Can you hear me ?” I spoke to my answering machine.

I moved out of the room nonchalantly, frowning at the mobile screen. “No range in that room” I mumbled to myself as I moved out. I cast a furtive glance at the queue tail. It had doubled by now. 

I re-called the agent. Then I meekly sauntered somewhere close to the end of the line, still pretending to be on that urgent call.  To think I could have been number 16, and now I was number 31 in the queue!

If I was a spectator to this circus, I would have sneered,  “Serves you right . A lesson well learnt and well deserved.” For obvious reasons, I didn’t say it now.

Finally, mera number aa gaya! The peon held a barrier-arm at the entrance, “Virginal… ” he said. I scanned his face, wondering whether the one-worder ended with a question or full stop. I beamed him my most pious expression.

He held up his palm, “Give.”

My agent nodded at my  ’Original’ documents and I got the cue. I whipped them up triumphantly. This man was not a peon; he was the all important middle-man! He scanned through my papers and waved me toward his in-a-foul-mood officer.

It struck me at that painful moment that I had forgotten my pen. I panicked, wondering if I would have to borrow a pen from this bulk of frowns & scowls.

I kept my best smile ready(just in case); but he had eyes only for the papers. He skid a stamp pad across to me. “Right thumb.” he snapped.

And to think I wasted years in education! I swallowed all of my Degrees & Certificates and planted my thumb impression on the said place. Then scurried out of the room.

My joy was short lived. It was time to join another queue. For another signature.

My paper required exactly two hours to move within a 50 square feet room. It gained ‘weightage’ with every (in total 3) signatures. It shrunk in size and expanded in significance. Good old Indian magic! 

I finally emerged with 1 license, 1 purple thumb and all my Virginals intact. I could teach Alexander a thing or two about Triumph. No wonder he faltered in India- it’s because he forgot to carry an international license!!!

Suffered a similar experience? Utilised your time to find humor in the situation? Is this unique to India or a ubiquitous quirk?

Rare Verdict. Common crime.

Tags

crime, death sentence, Flavia Agnes, judgment, juvenile rapist, maximum comments, nirbhaya, rape, Shakti mills, survivor, verdict

Flavia Agnes calls herself a Feminist and Legal scholar.
Flavia Agnes terms the Shakti Mills Death-Verdict as “Too harsh on young boys from impoverished backgrounds.”

1. Too Harsh? : You know what I find harsh? Life for the Justice-Seekers(JS)

If you die, so much the better JS! We can swipe a collective tear, then build a mausoleum in your name, introduce a law in your name. Hell, even allow Mahesh Bhatt to pour it all on celluloid! Posthumous celebrity status for you, JS!
Of course, when it comes to enacting that particular law… We can deal with your obituaries. Just don’t remind us of our unkempt promises.

On the other hand, If you survive…what a blasted headache you are! We now need to take sides, judge, debate, juggle, evaluate. We now have a dual problem on our hands- rehabilitation of you and rehabilitation of the criminals. We are especially interested in the latter.
The JS survived. A Survivor, not a Victim. That , of course means
a] The crime was not heinous enough. I mean, no intestines hanging out, no metallic objects ripping internal organs. Nothing Serious.

Our standards have risen since that December. We need more gore before our blood boils. Ms Agnes, could you enumerate exactly how many gashes, fractures and liters of JS blood quantifies as ‘Heinous-enough’ for you?

b] She survived= She is strong enough. Mentally and physically. She will cope. She publicly declared that she will not allow this incident to rip apart her life. What a relief we don’t have to deal with a whiner!
But what about our bottled empathy? It needs a release and a recipient. Ah, might as well heap it on the ‘poor angel criminals’.

The criminals erred, therefore they are human. By default, they deserve human rights.
The JS has no human rights; because the JS is not human…just a bloody statistic. Such breath-taking clarity of thought!

2. Too young to punish; but not too young to sin: ‘‘Under-age’ as a terminology, a fundamental right, a loophole.

Let us reverse the roles. Underage JS; adult criminal. Does the Law have a special clause for this? Double punishment? Augment the sentence from Life to Death? Ms Agnes, do enlighten us.

3. Poverty trump card: Ms Agnes, Legal expert and Feminist, contributes another loop-hole for the benefit of criminals. Poverty!!!
Stealing out of poverty, begging out of poverty… I can still understand. Raping out of poverty??? I am zapped by the flights of your imagination, Ms Agnes.

The rich have 2 weapons to wriggle out of punishment: Bribery or Intimidation of the JS & family.

The poor now require even lesser efforts to escape harsh punishment. Just flash the poverty card.

NOTE: So, all you middle-class people…Don’t even think of it. You have a fairly decent job, middle-class values and a good upbringing. You don’t have the twin privileges of poverty and illiteracy.
Steer clear of Rape. You are neither rich enough nor poor enough to afford committing rape.

4. Rarest of Rare:
Ms Agnes says ‘The Death sentence will dilute the rarest of rare premise. Even if (Hold your breath!) the accused commit rape more than once, rape cannot be termed as ‘rarest of rare’ . Ah, such pearls of wisdom!

Since I do not claim to have legal expertise, please indulge me, Lady. Select the correct alternative from below:
The ‘rarest of rare’ term is applicable in relation to :
A.Criminal
B.Crime
C. Neither of the above

Ms Agnes would tick on option A; since she thinks ‘only one rape’ is not good enough. Her misguided angels will be demoralized for life if it appears on their resume. An Encore? Now she may consider it. Provided those intestines are hanging out.

What about 1 murder + 1 rape? What about 1 robbery + 1 rape? What sort of permutation and combination is ‘Heinous’ enough for Ms Agnes?

Of course, a crime is not officially an ‘Offense’ until
{i} reported by JS, {ii}registered by police {iii} proven in court. Until all 3 steps are complete, the offense remains off-record. For a ‘repeat offense’, please repeat all the above 3 steps.
Till such time, the criminal is innocent until proved otherwise.

Option B. She emphatically states that ‘Rape is not Murder’. Point appreciated. Sounds good on a Dais. Sounds good on paper. Solid one-liner punch. Yayy for Women-Power!

Only, it means nothing. Empty platitude. Hollow.
Every JS needs closure. She can never achieve it with the vitriolic certainty that her criminals still exist on Earth and that they still breathe. From being jobless miscreants, they have earned a lifetime of ensured food and ensured roof. On tax-payers money. Quite a progressive leap in their life!

If the JS is a working individual, a part of her salary will help maintain their existence. She has to live with that torture. Every single moment of her life. Still not rare and harsh enough, Ms Agnes?

I would opt for option C. I think ‘Rarest of Rare’ should apply to the JS. For a JS, the crime against her is the very ‘rarest of rare’ incident of her Life.
Her Life. How can anyone else decide it is not rare enough or heinous enough for her life?

Rape is not mere male vs female. It is one human being trampling, spitting and defecating on another human being’s right. Still not rare or heinous enough?

5. And lastly, Ms Agnes has empathy for the grieving, bereaved Family…of the Criminals!

I have often wondered how these jobless, good-for-nothing, penniless vagabonds suddenly metamorphose into The-Sole-support-and-Breadwinner of-our-Family?
Enough of misdirected sympathy. Zero tolerance , please, for these tactics.

But take heart, Ms Agnes. The future is bright for your misguided souls. They can keep appealing to the High Court, then Supreme Court, then the President. With every subsequent plea to a higher court, the JS has to again depose, again prove her statement and re-re-re-relive her nightmare. Still not rare enough, Ms Agnes?

If the President allows the file to decay long enough, the Court will automatically convert a Death to a Life sentence. See? There is an entire battalion of allies existing to cuddle and console your misguided angels!

Take heart, have Patience. Your sympathy will bear fruits. Ms Agnes, your misguided angels may still walk free.

P.S: Does every Court have a Bhagwad Gita? Open it once in a while. Chapter 2, Verse 11. “Do not lament for those who do not deserve lamentation.”
Poor, poor Krishna. No wonder Gandhari, holding up her scales, is having the last laugh in her corner.

How does your country deal with Juvenile Delinquents?
Do you believe in Death sentence?
How many are too-many for you?
Will you react only when the criminal and the crime arrives at your doorstep?

Crime won, Nirbhaya lost …Read here for Dec 2015 judgment.