Sunday, 5 October 2014

Men Women...society??


In every society woman is construed to be a temptress. One who is a lascivious creature designed to arouse men away from their duty. They are the ultimate distraction. Without a woman, many religions believe, that man would be complete. O well, he needs a woman to procreate with and satiate his base urges – i.e to have babies to increase his lineage and to have sex with. (Mostly in that order)

I am, sure many orthodox religions would agree to the basic concept of difference between men and women put as such.

Naturally when an argument is put in such a way, I would definitely beg to differ. The truth is such derivations have been made by a patriarchal society. Like some say, the history of winners is the one that is widely known. Its like the other side of the moon, so to speak. But we as people cannot discount the fact that women mostly form 50% of any population. Technically speaking, men and women form the human population. Therefore, how can 50% of the human race be evil? That, too, 50% of the same gender? Somewhat illogical, really.

The truth is as far as I know Hindu scriptures (and that’s not much really), it says that you must treat women with respect, for; they are your mother and later, your companions. They keep you companionship and women have also known to be active participants or even involved in the history of mankind. (Though seeing Sonia Gandhi, Mamata Banerjee and J. Jayalalithaa, one would wish women would keep to home and hearth and not enter politics!)

Men have certain duties and so do women. Both have rights and duties. It is more like a division of labour. Depends on who is translating that you understand how much importance to give to whom. But really, both of them deserve equal importance. A woman has as much voice as a man. Also, a man must be humble to attain heaven as much as a woman needs to be humble. Humility, intelligence, an allegiance to righteousness, equality, duty and responsibility is all there in our scriptures. These are all there for both men and women.

Some people always say that men and women are not equal. Women have always been superior. This can be taken both ways. But I suppose we should take away the gender bias and say that both men and women form part of the human race. Each of us as people have a duty towards the other. So instead of doing one upmanship, we must learn to understand that both are equal. Both are people. Respect the other. Both men and women crave a respectful existence. Once respect is removed from the equation, there is inequality. That is the source of all our men vs women debates.

Though I think I have oversimplified the problem, I have simply worked out the problem from my angle.

Monday, 4 August 2014

Toru Dutt & incidently the review of 'Le Journal de mademoiselle D'Arvers'


Toru Dutt is a prodigy who has been long forgotten. But she is the first Indian novelist who has ever written in English AND in French. She was born in the literary family of Dutts in Bengal. The last of 3 children of Govin Chunder Dutt. She had a brother and a sister – Abju & Aru, respectively. A curious, vivacious young girl who was adept at learning and whose curiosity to learn read and write consumed her till the end of her short life. She was adept in Sanskrit, English, French, German and of course Bengali. She was a proficient translator and translated many works of French to English. Though born a Hindu, she, converted to Christianity when she was 6 years old. Her writings reflect her Christian belief. She has also translated many works from Sanskrit.

Very little is known of her writings and she is most popularly known only as a poet for her famous poem ‘Our Casuarina Tree’ which is her most popular work. But this prodigy whose literary and cultural sensibilities were awakened at a very tender age of 13 wrote 2 novels – ‘Bianca’ and ‘Le Journal de Mademoiselle D’Arvers’ apart from the many translations. Her sister Aru was also as good a linguist and writer. Both sisters have translated a few French poems in an anthology known as ‘A Sheaf Gleaned From French Fields’. This was a joint venture by both the sisters. Unfortunately, the elder one was not alive to see it in print and Toru completed it after her death. The sisters loved each other a lot. They grew up in Nice, France and England and therefore could appreciate the literature and culture of the continent better than any Indian as they grew up immersed in it. Toru went to the continent when she was 13, ie: in 1869, when English literature was at its peak with poets like Shelley and Wordsworth, and of course my favourite – Emily Bronte; being her contemporaries. In fact in her French novel, ‘Le Journal de Mademoiselle D’Arvers’ , I do detect some traces of Emily Bronte’s work, ‘Wuthering Heights’ The love of Louis reflects the gentle and tender love Edgar Linton has for Catherine Earnshaw nee Linton. Unlike Emily’s heroine, though, Marguerite is a gentle woman and her love is deep and tender.  

Art and literature were very much appreciated and encouraged during that period of time. Toru and her sister blossomed in this environment. With the literary genes inherent in them, this was a fertile soil where it blossomed and gave beautiful fruit. Language was at their behest and they expressed themselves poignantly.

It is unfortunate that what brought them to Europe was primarily the death of their brother Abju. He died of consumption. Whenever you read this young author’s work, death is forever present, like a shadow. Toru was surrounded by death from a very early age. This is reflected in her works as they are somewhat biographical in nature. Her sister, Aru, too, died when Toru was just 19. She herself died when she was 21. Alas! Literature lost a beautiful contributor!

Her works are poignant and when you know about the author, it is all the more brilliant that this writing has originated from the pen of one who was so young. There is a certain maturity in the emotions of her characters. Though it shows that this was written at a time when women were not so aware of things. Like when I read the English translations of the French novel, I found that the author was very naïve about facts of childbirth and in some instances of nursing a baby. Her characters definitely touch a chord emotionally and are mature. But death seems to shadow them at every turn. In fact the major theme can be said to be death. Though she never had the chance to fall in love (or maybe who knew! She had an unrequited love! For the way she describes the female protagonist when in love, she is somewhat apt in some of her descriptions of a girl in love). A girl who loves, loses and learns to love again. A deep and wholesome love. Though the superstitions of the character are somewhat Indian, and that betrays the fact that it was written by an indian authoress. But such superstitions were prevalent in the west too. :)

The male characters are also very well fleshed out. The father figure here is very supportive of his daughter and it reflects the relationship she shared with her own father. It also reflects how fathers in that era were very dominant figures in a girls life. This book opens our eyes to the fact that women were protected creatures in the 19th century. They were under the protection of their fathers when young and soon, but very soon, they moved to the protection offered by their husbands.  The woman plays the role of care taker and is kind and gentle. The character of Madame Gosserelle is an interesting one and shows that though Toru was young, she had seen enough of the different characters in her short but informative life. This book throws to light her very un-Indian upbringing. In the nineteenth century not only was she multi lingual and an expert in all the languages she knew, but she was also well versed in her understanding of human nature. She is a rare gem in the literary world. I appreciate her more because she was not only very young but that she was a woman. Yes you can call me feminist. But this young Indian had a very great understanding of human nature and she had the ability to be articulate and poignant enough to pen her thoughts. It is strange to know that despite having a supportive father who appreciated her literary genius and in fact fed the fire of her curiosity, she never revealed her novels to him. It was after she died that her father discovered his daughter’s works.

Perhaps her novels would have given her father a feeling of how stifled she felt in her father’s love for her. How stifling it was for her to sit in side 4 walls when her heart and mind were out there in the wild fields of France and England. Perhaps her mind was too agile to keep up with her weakening body because even as she wrote her novels, she herself was consumed by the disease that had eaten up her siblings. The dreaded consumption. What a devastation to the old parents who had to watch each one of his talented children die one by one and still be alive to bury them and live amidst the ruins of their young lives!

But as you read the works of Toru Dutt, you see a maturity, a vast understanding and a certain peace in death. As though she welcomes it like sleep after a tired day. It is as though in death, she is going to live far better than she did in life. Free from the pains and anxieties of life – knowing and being with her friends whom she missed in life. It is as though by dying, she is going to a happier and freer place – a place where she can roam around freely and happily. Where her heart, body, mind and soul are in sync and as agile as she wants them to be and with people whom she loves.

Monday, 21 July 2014

Mind Magic

Like a river our minds flow,
like liquid metal it feels.
Fluid, yet somewhat weighty.
Its all matter rolled into one
but that really does not matter.
It flows fast,
Though it does have
the ways of a glacier.
Its ways are numerous,
infinite are its workings.
but sometimes,
it feels like a snowball
gathering and building itself
with time.
yet some minds,
disintegrate and regenerate
with intensity, frequeny & intense frequency
at different frequencies.
amazing are the tendencies
of different minds at different levels.
Discover yours
Delve into others'
discover it all,
Simultaneously!

Monday, 12 May 2014

A wriggling tiny irritating worm called hope...


What should I do?

A constant question I keep asking

Year after year.
Every year, I feel I have found the answer.

Yet the next year,

I am at it all over again!

I am never quite sure if this is what I want the next year!

I dither and dawdle

I try to be brave and energetic

About all my new projects and attempts.

But somehow this time,

Its hard to get up.

This time, the wound cut a little deeper.

This time,

I am a little more lost.

Its a little more darker.

But somewhere,

I see there is still a small, tiny light shining

It seems to be beckoning to me.

At least that’s what I think so.

That is the only thing that keeps me going

Somewhat...

I think its called hope.

I think it means that

Somehow something will work out.

...and it will always be for the best...