Zorba the Greek

                    ZORBA, THE GREEK

I just finished rereading Zorba the Greek by Nikos Kazantzakis – a book that sets you free every time you visit it. Kazantzakis works are full of joy, especially Zorba the Greek. The book is a hymn to life and love, personified in the character sketch of Zorba; the epitome of pulsating life force. It urges you to stop reading words and go jump into the stream of life; and live it king size.
Zorba, the wonderful Macedonian man lives each day as if it is his last, completely involved in what he is doing; making love or working the lignite mines. He dances to life, actually, authentically and practically. When he cannot express the feelings and energy in words, he dances with gay abandon to the beat of each moment. He lives in perpetual awe of everything around him. He looks at trees, the sky, flowers, women, children as if he is seeing them for the first time. He revels in the mystery of creation and considers the world his playground to frolic and indulge.  His zest for life is all inclusive. The catastrophe of the closure of the mine is another challenge from which he rises unscathed. He understands life in all its colors and is awake to each of its tests and turns. If ever there was a role that Anthony Quinn was born to play, it was the lusty, life-affirming character in Zorba, the Greek. The film made the book world famous.
The narrator played by Alan Bates is a foil to Zorba. He is a writer wrestling in his lair with his writing of Buddha, trying to comprehend the world through words and mysticism. In a bid to realign and rethink the paradox of man’s life on earth, he decides to partake of life with the day-to-day life of workmen. He travels to Crete to inherit a lignite mine. He hires Zorba who turns out to be Man Friday. The dialogue between the two is the core of the book through which Kazantzakis throws light on metaphysical, existential questions in people’s lives and the varied perspectives to it. Friedrich Nietzsche’s ‘God is dead’ and the ‘man as Overman’, are concepts which pattern the exchange between them. In the end, it isn’t squiggly inky impressions of words on paper, and the endless ruminations and reflections, but the act of living them which can make a difference in our lives. 
Kazantzakis was an existentialist as much as Franz Kafka, his contemporary. But their philosophy was so very different. Whereas Kafka battled with a meaningless existence with paranoia, absurdity and madness, Kazantzakis pitched into the flow of life with a madness of sheer abandon and love. While Kafka is disturbed and depressed by the cruel universe, Kazantzakis is delighted by its mystery. He does not know if God exists or truth exists, but he has an amazing appetite for plain existence. Life is simple, devoid of Cartesian duality. Therefore the ordinary is extraordinary for him. The Kafkaesque ideology imbues us with dread and gloom.     
Franz Kafka’s quote on books reads: “I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. If the book we’re reading doesn’t wake us up with a blow to the head, what are we reading for? So that it will make us happy, as you write? Good Lord, we would be happy precisely if we had no books, and the kind of books that make us happy are the kind we could write ourselves if we had to. But we need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. That is my belief.” Readers who have read his story ‘The Metamorphosis’ will appreciate and understand his message very well. A contemporary writer who comes to mind in the same line of thought would be Milan Kundera.

 On the contrary, Paulo Coelho and the erstwhile Nikos Kazantzakis deliver the same content through a symbolic parable or through characters who serve as illustrations for different philosophical principles. The story of the butterfly emerging out of its cocoon is recounted by Zorba to the narrator, a lesson in nature’s mysterious workings. ‘A man spent hours watching a butterfly struggling to emerge from its cocoon. It managed to make a small hole, but its body was too large to get through it. After a long struggle, it appeared to be exhausted and remained absolutely still. The man decided to help the butterfly and, with a pair of scissors, he cut open the cocoon, thus releasing the butterfly. However, the butterfly’s body was very small and wrinkled and its wings were all crumpled. The man continued to watch, hoping that, at any moment, the butterfly would open its wings and fly away. Nothing happened; in fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its brief life dragging around its shrunken body and shriveled wings, incapable of flight.’
‘What the man – out of kindness and his eagerness to help – had failed to understand was that the tight cocoon and the efforts that the butterfly had to make in order to squeeze out of that tiny hole were Nature’s way of training the butterfly and of strengthening its wings. Sometimes, a little extra effort is precisely what prepares us for the next obstacle to be faced. Anyone who refuses to make that effort, or gets the wrong sort of help, is left unprepared to fight the next battle and never manages to fly off to their destiny.’ The tone is optimistic and full of faith. The mysterious universe will connive to deliver to us our wishes and desires, provided you align your energy with it! It is indeed an appealing and interesting way of passing on philosophical teachings where parables are interspersed with nuggets of wisdom.
Kazantzakis was beset with existential, metaphysical questions since his growing up years and his trilogy Zorba the Greek, Freedom and Death and The Temptation of Christ patterns the path of a human being on earth. Zorba, the Greek is about attaining individuality. Reveling in the spirit of freedom and relishing a human life of pleasure and pain. Wrapping oneself in an atmosphere of daily sights, sounds and smells – wild sage, savory mint and thyme. The orange-blossom scent worn by Madame Hortense, silvery olive trees, fig and vines, kitchen gardens, swims in the sea, the wine drunk; dancing to strains of the santuri, friendship, sex, separation and loss. Freedom and Death delineates life in a community, of living for a cause. It celebrates the idea of extending oneself beyond personal needs. It is about commitment to others, loyalty and patriotism. The Temptation of Christ is the story of Christ, the man who struggles with his own human needs of love, family and companionship. He wrestles with guilt, pain, fear and emotions and rises above them to fulfill a cause for the wider humanity. Kazantzakis’ Christ is a human who becomes God.
The epitaph on Kazantzakis tomb further illuminates the path of freedom - "I hope for nothing. I fear nothing. I am free."
  

                       

Phenomenal Woman

                 Phenomenal Woman

“Still I Rise”:

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you? 
Why are you beset with gloom? 
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken? 
Bowed head and lowered eyes? 
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you? 
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you? 
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs? 

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Maya Angelou has risen phoenix-like from the ashes to become a star of twinkling light. Her courage and fortitude shines bright in the skies today, as she spreads her glow over the microcosm of the human living world. An exponent of poetry and seven explicitly bold autobiographies, she straddled the creative planes of writer, poet, performer, dancer, singer, teacher and a social activist with aplomb. Her autobiographies are rare pieces of literature which have rendered memories into lyrical poetry and works of art. She wrote inside out about her personal experiences as a poor, black female in racist America. The bildungsroman memoirs are delineations of self-exposure of a black girl child to a black woman, rife with revelatory stories of rape, prostitution, broken marriages, alienation, segregation, loneliness and exploitation. Personalized accounts of horror and shame etched in ink and paper saw the light of day and became a novel  style of penning memoirs. Her experiences of depression, disappointment and discouragement are all encompassing, but her message of courage rings loud and clear- “Still I Rise”:

‘I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings’ is the most highly acclaimed of Angelou's autobiographies. Its first person narrative is the collective ‘we’ of the black experience and includes her library of literary canon and the oral tradition of African storytelling. Its triumph lies in its core of ‘Mother Wit’ the collective wisdom of the African-American community as expressed in folklore and humor and is used to demonstrate that in spite of severe racism and oppression, ‘they thrive and do so with some passion, some compassion, some humour, and some style.’ She has stood true to her oft quoted quote “What you're supposed to do when you don't like a thing is change it. If you can't change it, change the way you think about it. Don't complain.” Elements of blues are all pervasive through the works, inherent in recounts of personal struggles, ironic understatements, metaphors, rhythms and imagery.

Her poetic journey landed her the honour of being the first woman-poet to recite her most well-known poem ‘On the Pulse of Morning’ at President Bill Clinton’s inauguration. Her theatrical rendition rested on her years of being a singer, actor and the oral traditions of African American heritage. Her second hailed poetry performance was at the fiftieth anniversary of The United Nations. On a personal note, I have always been inspired by her poems – ‘Phenomenal Woman’ which has given strength to millions of women to be themselves and thrive in their strength and natural endowments.

 Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size   

But when I start to tell them,

They think I’m telling lies.

I say,

It’s in the reach of my arms,

The span of my hips,   

The stride of my step,   

The curl of my lips.   

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,   

That’s me.

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,   

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.   

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.   

I say,

It’s the fire in my eyes,   

And the flash of my teeth,   

The swing in my waist,   

And the joy in my feet.   

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered   

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can’t touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them,   

They say they still can’t see.   

I say,

It’s in the arch of my back,   

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Now you understand

Just why my head’s not bowed.   

I don’t shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.   

When you see me passing,

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It’s in the click of my heels,   

The bend of my hair,   

the palm of my hand,   

The need for my care.   

’Cause I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

 Doubts, fear, mistrust, criticism  entraps our mind , keeps us small.  But then, there are those like Angelou who ride beyond the chaos and dark waters to soar like birds in the sky. As a caged bird she sang out aloud and finally flew high like a eagle in the sky.  I quote from her poem –‘ When Great Trees Fall’

And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly.  Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed.  They existed.
We can be.  Be and be
better.  For they existed.

We at Navhind Times hail the spirit of Maya Angelou!  God bless us All!

Ruskin Bond

The Indian Bond – Ruskin Bond

                                                                                      or                                                             

                                                               Indian Bond turns 80

“As a writer, I have difficulty in doing justice to momentous events, the wars of the nations, the politics of power; I am more at ease with the dew of the morning, the sensuous delights of the day, the silent blessings of the night, the joys and sorrows of children, the strivings of ordinary folk, and of course, the ridiculous situations in which we sometimes find ourselves.”  That’s our Indian Bond – Ruskin Bond, who turned eighty on 19^th May.  He is in the pink of health and continues to write simple stories imparting wisdom to his readers to be simple and cultivate humor to be happy.

His first book Nine Months went unpublished, but then at seventeen years, he won the John Llewellyn Rhys Prize, a literary prize awarded annually for the best work written in English and published in UK. The Room on the Roof was published in England shortly after he left for India for good.  “I am as Indian as the dust of the plains or the grass of the mountain meadow” – a feeling that has solidly anchored him in the Indian milieu for decades.  Best known for his short stories and poems, he has written a few novels and novellas, too.

“To be happy, be like a flower, this attracts butterflies, bees, lady birds and gentle people.

A flower doesn't have to rush about in order to make friends.  It remains quietly where it has grown and sweetens the air with its fragrance.

God gave this power to flowers and gentle people.” -  Ruskin Bond, To Live in Magic

The poem ‘A Flower’ is an apt summation of his own qualities of gentleness and sweetness.  He has had a following of the whole Indian continent and abroad, too. Film makers have flocked to him to adapt his stories into films, and he has readily obliged by reworking his novellas into screen scripts. The foremost example is that of A Flight of Pigeons, based on the 1857 mutiny made into film by Shyam Benegal.  Thereafter,  Vishal Bhardwaj worked on the book Biniya’s Blue Umbrella, and the short story  Sunnana’s Seven Husbands – and made them into films titled The Blue Umbrella and Saat Khoon Maaf.  His first published work Room on the Roof was adapted into a BBC TV series  - The Dehra kids.  In 1990, there used to be a TV show Ek Tha Rusty, based on his Rusty series, with many an autobiographical reflections in it. Several stories have been incorporated in the school curriculum in India, including "The Night Train at Deoli", "Time Stops at Shamli" and Our Trees Still Grow in Dehra. Scenes from a Writer’s Life and A lamp is Lit are leaves from a journal about his life as a growing child and later years as a writer.   So much for being a gentle flower!

What classifies Bond as a unique writer and segregates him from others is that in spite of his British descent, his writing is not Eurocentric. After a four year sojourn in England, he chose to settle in India permanently.  He writes like a man completely and absorbedly immersed in the vast landscape called INDIA. The stories are an authentication of his deep appreciation and love for India and its people. And yet because of his background,  he is able to distance himself and render an overview of all that is not right in his adopted country. The personal travails of his protagonist are juxtaposed with the social, political, cultural, religious and communal fabric of the geographical area around him - a subject of much critical acclaim in his works.  Women on Platform 8 and The Eyes Are Not Here, are must read stories.

The poem, Cherry Tree is about  the  poet’s ecstasy over a tree of his own which took eight

years to grow.  He is expressing his wonder at the ways of nature and how the cherry

blossoms are fragile and quick to fall. The tree gives him immense joy when he can see

the stars and the blue sky through dappled green tree.

Eight year have passed

Since I placed my cherry seed in the grass.

“Must have a tree of my own,” I said,

And watered it once and went to bed

And forgot; but cherries have a way of growing,

Though no one's caring very much or knowing.

And suddenly that summer near the end of May,

I found a tree had come to stay.

It was very small, five months child,

Lost in the tall grass running wild.

Goats ate the leaves, the grass cutter’s scythe

split it apart and a monsoon blight

Shrivelled the slender stem...... Even so,

next spring I watched three new shoots grow,

The young tree struggle, upward thrust

Its arms in a fresh fierce lust

For light and air and sun.

I could only wait, as one

Who watched, wandering, while Time and the rain

Made a miracle from green growing pain.......

I went away next year-

Looking up through leaves at the blue

Blind sky, at the finches as they flew

And flitted through the dappled green.

While bees in an ecstasy drank

Of nectar from each bloom and the sun sank

Swiftly, and the stars turned in the sky,

And moon-moths and singing crickets and I—

Yes, I!— praised Night and Stars and tree:

That small, the cherry, grown by me.

If you love the ‘Blue Mountains’, are awed by the spectacular and mystical creations on earth, and enthralled by the petty foibles and exchanges of human beings – read his literature; a truly spiritual quest.

Happy Birthday Willie!

                                                       Happy Birthday Hip Hop Willie

Happy Birthday Willie! As the world celebrates Shakespeare’s 450^th birth anniversary on 23^rd April, 2014, we at the Hindu Literary Review raise a toast to greatest litterateur who has always enthralled  us with his amazing wordplay. Shakespearean works have been dissected and studied a million times over , but the latest ongoing study has completely bowled us. Hallelujah! Willie is the biggest rapper of all times!  Sonnet 18 as a rap verse completely astounds us! The Bards poetry raps to the beat of hip hop music!!!  

Originally, speaking of Shakespeare and hip hop in the same breath is like pairing the sacred with the profane.  Initially it sounds completely bizarre to classify the highbrow poetry of the Bard with that of rappers however popular they may be : R.E.M, Saul Williams, Kool Keith or Tupac Shakur. Yet research leads us to teachers, performers and projects, wherein hard core passionate followers of Shakespeare and hip hop have unearthed close resonance between the wordplay, meter and rhyme of the Bard and hip hop. Both employ meter, are fueled by rhyme, weave music and language to create the rhythm of a rap.

A visit back in time to the Globe Theatre with a Shakespearean play being enacted on stage would be an education in itself. The market place outside the theatre would be full of noisy jostling people, laughing, buying beer, nuts, and fruit from hawkers. The ambience inside would be no different, with people selling the same inside through the duration of the play. The crowd of charboys, servants, the illiterates who thronged the pit around the stage, and others in the galleries or boxes would be talking, criticizing, and booing through the performance of the play. Now if the Bard were to write serious poetry for such a crowd ( who had to be  lured from the bear baiting and bull fighting stands to come and attend his performances) he would have to rhyme and imbue it with powerful imagery and wordplay to be able to get their attention. In the absence of props, backdrops, stage settings, lights and other special effects ( the bards plays have no such directions ) it was the sound, wordplay, and rhythm of the language which conveyed everything. No doubt the poetry is high brow and all inclusive of action, imagery, thought and meter.  Ben Johnson’s quote – ‘Soul of the age, not of an age, but for all time - Thou art a monument, without a tomb, And art alive still, while thy book doth live, And we have wits to read, and praise to give’ holds so true.  Shakespeare, the ultimate master of human psychology and behaviour has held his audience at the time and through all times in the palm of his hand, through the sheer force of his powerful hip hop poetry.

Hip hop as a genre of music and song is familiar to us as a dervish chant of crude, debasing, violent lyric- which then understandably makes the comparison very difficult to assimilate. But if we were to shift our attention to the hip pop music of rappers like Saul Williams, (a decorated poet turned hip hop musician) we are pleasantly treated to a cathartic listening experience of  thought provoking , artistically viable poetry. Works of rappers like Aesop Rock, Illogic, Kool Keith, Andre 3000 from Outkast, Eyedea, Slug from Atmosphere introduce us to  clever use of words, exploring human psyche, existential disillusionments,  life , death, political and social upheavals . Sound diction, metaphoric- artistically themed poems rendered in pretty rhyme. Hip hop has a rich cultural context, a tradition that goes back thousands of years. ‘The most sacred histories of ancient African nations were recorded by a man known as a Griot, who was effectively a rapper. He would recite the nation's history over a beat of a drum’. Both Shakespeare works and hip hop as cultural expressions have been misinterpreted. Former is labelled as highbrow and taught in boring study rooms, and the latter is not accepted on a literary platform as an intellectual, artistic, poetic expression.

The ongoing projects sponsored by the UK government, explore intersections; where the twain shall meet.  One such project is the Hip Hop Shakespeare, where the Mobo hip hop award winning artiste Akala ( a passionate follower of Shakespeare) conducts workshops for teenagers. The exercise explores the close relationship between the rhythms of modern hip-hop and the iambic pentameter of Shakespeare. Iambic pentameter of Shakespearean verse has five sets of 2 beats each, which is the basis of hip hop and enables an emcee rap a Shakespearean sonnet at 80bpm and then 140 bpm tempo too. The iambic pentameter is stable, versatile and adaptable. It is maybe so because it is intrinsic to our life force, based on the beat of our hearts- dadham, dadham, dadham, dadham, dadham. Comprehension of this similarity in rhythm, prepares the students for the next step. Each teenager is   given a bag with strips of poetry lines from rappers and Shakespearean works. Th e students have to decipher and segregate the lines into two groups, that from Shakespeare and the other from contemporary hip hop poetry.  They get tangled in a maze and find it nearly impossible to do so, because of the similarity in wordplay, meter and rhyme.  Another group is given a task of writing a found poem by mixing lines from the love poetry of rappers and the Bard.

Shakespeare

Love is merely a madness

The course of true love never did run smooth

You, in my respect, are all the world

My heart unto yours is knit

O, how I love thee! How I dote on thee!

I do love nothing in the world so well as you

I give away myself for you

Speak low if you speak love

I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest

My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep

My love shall in my verse ever live young

Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee

I, beyond all limit of what else i' th’ world, do love, prize, honor you

Hip-hop

Walk this earth for her, glory, I'm grateful

To be in her presence I try to stay faithful

From lack of love many hide, some run

Love can free us, to it some of us react as a slave

Serenade her, without speaking a word

Because of you I'm stronger, I'm afraid no longer

I feel so alive in me, you have liberated me

I just want you to know your whole being is beautiful

I want to build a tribe with you, protect and provide for you

You're everything, sometimes I get nervous when I'm in front you

Send your soul through your lips to my heart

Sweet music will start, I want you to be the music of my art

Go through the seasons of love and never change with the weather

The language of love cannot be translated

Love is blind, you just see bright light

‘Hip hop Shakespeare Live’ -  are performances which explore the social , cultural and linguistic parallel  between the two , a modern retelling of William Shakespeare’s Richard II set against the backdrop of a live hip-hop concept album. My Macbeth class the other day resounded to the witches chant set to a rap beat :

• Once upon a midnight dreary, while I find her weak and weary
• Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
• Fair is foul : and foul is fair : hover through the fog and filthy air.

 Our most beloved Sonnet 18 rendered to a rap tune is the latest craze on you tube.

Happy birthday Hip-Hop Willie! We shall rap, sing and celebrate you endlessly through the year.

 Should I compare thee to hip hop! Yes I definitely shall !

Prajwal Parajuly

Prajwal Parajuly caught the attention of the media when he became the youngest Indian author to be offered a two-book, multi-country deal by Quercus in 2011.  He published his first book in 2012: a short story collection The Gurkha's Daughter and his second book in 2013: a novel The Land Where I Flee.  Parajuly is a  Nepalese Indian writer –an  advertising executive-turned-author,  as unassuming and unhindered as the stories he pens. He is the second author from the Indian diaspora after Kiran Desai to illuminate and bring to centre stage the world of Indian Gurkhas, the majority ethnic Nepalese-speaking community in and around Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan.  Kiran Desai’s narrative in The Inheritance of Loss borders on the demand for Gurkhaland at its peak in the 1980s in Kalimpong.  But Parajuly evocatively enlarges the panorama by his in-depth portrayal of the life of Gorkhas, coalescing their stories into the mainstream.  

He writes about the experiences, culture and belief systems of the ethnic and diasporic Nepalese. Insightful peeking into the minds and characters of these people shaped by their politics, traditions and economics makes the reader walk their perilous trails through refugee camps, caste divides, revolutions and ultimately the American dream. Generally regarded as immigrants within their own country, he satirizes the stereotypes which abound in people’s minds in the story- The Immigrants:  ‘When I told people I was of Napalese origin, they instinctively asked me if I had climbed Mount Everest. When I answered no, I hadn’t and no, I did not know anyone who had, they were disappointed. When I mentioned I was from Darjeeling, most people asked me a tea question. When I let them know I couldn’t distinguish one  variety from the other, and that I didn’t drink tea, they looked bewildered. And if I told anyone I was an Indian with Nepalese origins, they looked at me wide-eyed, thinking it to be a curious mishmash . . . I stayed silent and let people continue living in their uninformed bubbles.’ To the contrary, Parajuly hashes the myths, and visits the grey areas of ignorance surrounding these very people through the book. The legendary courageous Gorkha soldier’s post imperial perspective is summed up in the line: "I haven't been in any danger since the Gulf War, but they might have some useless war for me to fight again. They are the British after all." He also fiercely derides the epithet ‘loyal’, used for most Gorkha workers, working blue collar jobs – ‘it reeks of their servitude’,  he says , ‘trapping rather than liberating them’. Another very interesting aspect of most stories is the juxtaposition of the east and west prism of perspectives on choices in life. A woman in her prime decides to walk out of her marriage which is going nowhere to study further and travel the world. 

The writing style is lucid and completely unaffected. The primary aim of the writer is characters and their everyday lives, to the extent that though the stories are based in lush green ambience of the Himalayan foothills, yet the narrative does not deviate from its core to paint the landscape in different hues. Each story is introduced with a title and a map of locations in the story in and around Nepal, Bengal, Sikkim and Bhutan. With the last story the mapwork shifts to New York – Manhattan , the Nepalese diasporic recount of two immigrants who have to unlearn and relearn new ways of relating to each other far away from their ethnic lands.

The first story The Cleft abounds in societal prejudices and the caste system rife in the Gorkha community. The illusionary dreams of stardom by the servant girl Kali with a cleft, imbues it with poignancy. A Father’s Journey is a sweet story about an enduring relationship between a father and his daughter. The subconscious desires mired in bigotry that parents pass on to their children mingled with their love and attention, and which the most enlightened of progeny then try and live them, a living tribute to their parents’ love for them. Missed Blessing entails the delicate balance between debt and sacrifice, obsequiousness to the wealthy and powerful between families and the motive behind every goodness shown to you. No Land is Her Land is recounted against the backdrop of Nepalese exodus from Bhutan, the story of refugees and their striving at perfections to regain acceptance in other lands. Gurkha’s Daughter and Passing Fancy are marked for their narrative technique. The former relays the plight of 200 years of lives of   brave, loyal Gorkha soldiers and their Brit counterparts through a mimicry enacted by children and the latter showcases the dual relationship of a woman with her husband and the neighbour through direct speech and stream of consciousness technique.

Stories of dysfunctional characters painting mindscapes of dispossesion and divisions, yet these very imperfections make them human and their strivings heroic.  Some of the characters continue in his second book and evolve further into rounded beings, their energies lent to the realisation of a beautiful world!  Prajwal Parajuly, we look forward to more writings from you!

Tracy Chadlier

     Finding the Story in the Painting

Tracy Chevalier has vivid imagination. Her writing is a lucid blend of history and creativity. She is an American living in England, churning out stories that have caught the attention of the literary world. Her latest autumn release last year is ‘The Last Runaway’, a period piece on American pre – civil war. ‘Girl with the Pearl Earring’ earlier had catapulted her onto the global writing arena.  She is clever to dwell upon icons in the past(so much so that  literary archaeological  study too has minimal material to really bring them to life) that have been elusive.  She makes full use of the lacuna, and impregnates her characters and plot with her fictionalized versions. It’s  a treat to listen to her on her TED talk ( http://www.ted.com/talks/tracy_chevalier).  Her winging imagination gleefully  constructs a dramatic  story around Jean-Siméon Chardin's early masterpiece,  Boy Building a House of Cards.   She lived with Johannes Vermeer’s painting ‘Girl with a pearl Earring’ for sixteen years, and finally weaved a story around the enigmatic look of the girl in the painting. The unknown maid from 17^th century delft becomes his muse and through her the reader gets into the studio of Vermeer, the machinations of his work and thought process, a sole private world. The book sold 4 million copies, got translated into many languages and was adapted into a film. Tracy succeeded in taping into the mainstream consciousness with a dramatized story, based on the life of a reclusive genius artist. 

The book ‘Burning Bright, is similar writing, based on the mystic, revolutionary poet, William Blake. Tracy depicts the seamy side of England in the 1750s. Blake’s seminal work, Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience forms a backbone for the changing city and lives of Jem Kellaway, Maisie Kellaway, and Maggie Butterfield in their pre-teens. The title Burning Bright is again a tribute to his poem ‘Tyger, Tyger Burning Bright’. Quotes from ‘London’ in the story lend significance to real time London - the slums of St. Giles, murder, molestation,  unwanted pregnancies, and a funeral cortege through the streets of the city. The book is full of action and drama portraying circus feats, fires, showdowns, difficult neighbours, swindlers, and patronizing owners. William Blake is a gracious presence in the neighbourhood where the children live, and it is through interactions with them that the reader is led through the story of printing and engraving. Though Blake is a sure presence through the entire book yet he remains a shadow. The effects of a revolution gone sour across the country in France, and Blake’s so called treason is hinted upon in the book yet  his ideas of inspirations for his poems,  mysticism, and he as a genius visionary does not really fructify in the book and the attempt remains weak and illusionary.

The Last Runaway, the latest book is steeped in the spirit of freedom. A desire for freedom by the victim and those who help him achieve freedom. It is the story of slavery and the resistance movement interwoven with the abolitionists, English Quakers, cultural contexts of North and South America and the English. Art of quilting by women is explored through different communities, patching, embroidering paths of healing, empowerment and freedom. Honor Bright is an emigrant to America in 1850, caught in the throes of the slave movement. The story moves from Ohio to Oberlin, prominent on the map of the Underground Railroad. The profiles of women like Judith Haymaker and Belle Mill, and Abigail are colourful and multifaceted. Defiant women who help salvage the spirit of slaves by helping them escape through their clandestine network of safe houses, food depots and rail lines. In contrast Donovan is a stereotypical character, who is a slave catcher, a rogue, and ducks being redeemed. Honor Bright with her strong Quaker principles, champions’ equality, inner light and silent meditation. She decides to undertake the freedom of slaves at the cost of personal safety. But her condescending righteousness and English superiority over the locals makes her fall short of a rounded character.

Art remains Tracy’s inspiration to weave stories around. If there are paintings which triggered her earlier; later mystic poets, medieval tapestries and quilt- making seems to have impressed upon her to continue her journey of storytelling. She candidly admits that she suffers from art fatigue whenever she visits art galleries, and to relive herself of the guilt she beelines to an art piece which beckons her. Her mind then goes into an overdrive to concoct a story around the piece of art in no time!  

Bard's Sonnets

The Bard at 450

The Bard is alive and with us at 450. The dawn of 2014 is special for that very reason, for the world shall sway to the strains of the Bard. The celebrations  shall continue till  man exists and the word lives on, and  we shall relive his works a thousand times over.  A mortal immortalized by his art of literature, ‘not of an age, but for all times.’ We shall begin the year of celebration of the Bard in this space by revisiting the Shakespearian Sonnets.

Revisiting  the 154 Sonnets of the Bard meticulously, helps  unearth the  technique which one  always disregards  in lieu of the theme of poems. It  acquires a color of its own and lures  one to assimilate sonnets in a completely new light. The better for the exercise on the writing of it;   which one can accomplish with finesse, with the comprehension of the origin, types, and structure of sonnets. After meditation on the outline frame of the sonnet, you are astonished to discover the immense space within the confines, structured structure of a sonnet to experiment on flowing verse. 

The Shakespearean Sonnet is a 14-line lyric poem consisting of 3 quatrains (3 stanzas of four lines each) of alternating rhyme and a couplet: a b a b c d c d e f e f g g . Each quatrain dwells on an idea, different from the other quatrains, but related to the overall theme of the sonnet. The couplet at the end resolves the juxtaposition of ideas, events, images in the quatrains, by possibly resolving or just revealing the tensions created and operative between them. Line 9, the beginning of the third quatrain, is the turn or volta which turns the preceding argument to a different image and then the culminating couplet settles the complete picture. Each line is of 10 syllables, with five feet, an iambic pentameter; a Shakespearean signature. 

Shakespeare wrote sonnets throughout his career for a private readership, but they came into the public domain when they were first published in 1609. His sonnets are divided into 3 categories, viz. those addressed to a fair young man whom he loves, then to a dark married lady, and lastly on myriad themes of life. The Sonnets are a profound meditation on the nature of love,  sexual passion, procreation, death and time.

Perhaps the most famous sonnet is Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?         a
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:      b
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  a
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:  b
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,   c
And often is his gold complexion dimmed,    d
And every fair from fair sometime declines,   c
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed:  d
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,  e                                  
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,  f
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,  e
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,  f
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,  g
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.   g

A typical English sonnet, with a typical Shakespearian rhyme scheme (indicated at the end of each line). The turn occurs at line 9, But thy eternal summer shall not fade. The Bard immortalized the beauty of the fair young man, through his words which reaches us 450 years hence.  

Sonnet 116, which is sung at all weddings worldwide, and is a celebration of the sacred bond of love in marriage:

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
  If this be error and upon me proved,
  I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed, whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.

Sonnet 73 is one of his most beautiful sonnets. He suggests that his lover will love him more with the passing years, and declining beauty, because the physical aging reminds the lover of the ephemeral nature of things and that death is not far behind.

 To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I ey’d,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold,
Have from the forests shook three summers’ pride,
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn’d,
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn’d,
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
Ah! yet doth beauty like a dial-hand,
Steal from his figure, and no pace perceiv’d;
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceiv’d:
For fear of which, hear this thou age unbred:
Ere you were born was beauty’s summer dead.

In Sonnet 104, The Bard expresses profound love for his lover who remains as beautiful and vibrant as she was on the first day that he saw her. The passing time has not marked her in his eyes. But he knows that time is fleeting and though his eyes are full of love and the lovely picture of his beloved, time is moving on, and beauty is moving forward deceiving his eyes. In the end, he remarks,  ‘In consideration of that, listen, you unborn generations: the height of beauty was dead before you were born.’

Watch this space for further interludes with the Bard through the year!  In love with literature we are: ‘WE ARE BECAUSE HE IS!’