Response to the review of Aavarana by Sudheen Kulkarni

When I read articles by the mainstream media about Aavarana I am struck by how illiberal the liberal media continues to be.  In this review Mr. Kulkarni accuses of Dr. Bhyrappa of  'falsifying the enriching interactions between Hindus and Muslims'.  I am amazed at the power of negativism that has taken hold of the Hindu as well as the Muslim populace.  Let me elaborate.  If indeed there was such enrichment, there would be no need to create a separate Muslim nation for the Muslims of the subcontinent.  Also, if indeed there was such an understanding between Hindus and Muslims there would be no need to obfuscate the historical truth.

If you just look at the way conversions to Islam take place, you will see that the past of a person is completely obliterated.  There is no more connection with your family and friends.  Your name is also changed.  With this your long standing continuities with your past are almost cruelly severed.  You will have to actively research history to know that a Mughal prince might very well have been a first generation spawn of a defeated Rajput, who might have been an ardent worshiper of Eklingji.

Take another example from the recent book, Tipu Sultan, the Tyrant of Mysore by Sandeep Balakrishna.  He speaks of the Beda boys taken into the army of Tipu Sultan as boy soldiers after their families were killed right in front of their eyes.  During their training and indoctrination they were brought up completely devoid of female company to bring out their raw combativeness and cruelty.  Put yourself in the position of those boys that are fighting to destroy the same culture that their parents so ardently fought to defend.

I admit these are wounds that are hard to heal.  For both Hindus it is the loss of their own brethren that had fought to protect them.  For Muslims it is a bigger loss - the loss of their own past, their identity and their way of thinking.  To obfuscate this truth is tantamount to denying an opportunity for  both Muslims and Hindus to heal wounds and mend amends.  More importantly, Muslims who are in fact genetically own own, but have had no chance to face that truth will have an opportunity to face the truth and have a chance to revisit their roots.  If there was no violence and/or enticement of sorts conversion to Islam would never happen.  In a perfect world then, the Muslims too, should have a chance to acknowledge their past and potentially have a chance to accept their heritage.

The reviewer also talks of the rich contribution of the Muslim culture.  I would love specifics!  When, where?  The Hindustani music is ours and ours alone.  Look at how Pakistani culture is focused on eradicating that aspect of 'their' culture.  Talk about literature - people with unbroken continuities can contribute literature in a richer way.  Food and dress are constantly evolving - are they a significant part of culture? Perhaps!  The reviewer also should note that before Mughals we were a rich and vibrant economy and after they came and created a plutocracy of a miniscule percentage of the super rich and an entire nation of serfs, that economy was practically destroyed.

I have always admired Dr. Bhyrappa for basing his novel on historical truth.  He has held steadfast to his value system unlike a host of others who fictionalize it to the point where it blurs the truth.  What is more, he empathetic and he feels the pain of the defeated while delineating the character of the castrated Rajput prince.  Like the reviewer himself says, he has brought out the pain that Lakshmi/ Razia feels.  She has lost a father, a husband and a son.  The Muslim society is close minded - they can't be otherwise.  They don't have a past other than that of aligning themselves with the aggressor to the Indian society - something they have to do to keep their pride intact.  It is harder to see yourself as a defeated race that was kept consciously inferior to the invaders and perhaps shunned by the very people that you had fought for.

Dr. Bhyrappa is a master at his craft.  A story within a story as a technique to draw parallels between the now and the historical past is nothing short of masterful.  It is high time for the 'liberal' media got honest and faced the truth.






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Dr

Mastani by Kusum Choppra

Mastani

ISBN-10: 8129119331 Kusum Choppra

Mastani, daughter of Chhatrasal Bundela, the second wife of Bajirao Peshwa was not welcome in the Peshwa family.  Baji was not even able to perform their son, Krishnasinh’s upanayanam.  His first wife Kashibai led the Brahmin opposition to Krishnasinh’s integration into the household and the Bhat Konkanasth community.  Kusum Chopra creates two alternate scenarios to fit known facts – and both scenarios are startling.  (I would not want to rob the readers of their moment of discovery by telling the details of the story.) 

It is difficult to read the novel – it is sad to realize politics and greed in a family can destroy a nation and a dream.  Hubris and egoism added to the poisonous mix that prevented Baji, his brothers and his Sardars from working together in achieving their goals.

I share the author’s self-confessed obsession of Mastani.  She remains the heroine of folk-lore in spite of having all accounts of her being expunged from the Peshwa Bakhars.  Ms. Chopra has painted Mastani as a very beautiful, brave, talented woman, utterly in love with the Peshwa.  She must have been.  She also characterizes the Peshwa Baji Rao as an extremely talented warrior, who while capable of formulating the policy to free the country of the enemy, was somehow emotionally weak, incapable of that killer instinct to strike that final blow to finish off the enemy.  (It was Baji who articulated the philosophy of the Maratha nation – let us strike at the trunk of the withering tree and the branches will fall off themselves…) Again, it is entirely plausible.  She offers as an example, Baji’s incapacity to deliver the final assault on the Mughal throne during the Battle of Delhi in 1737, when he went as far as the outskirts of the City and retreated towards Bundel Khand. 

There is a quite plausible account of palace politics that describe the interactions between the Chattrasal household and the Peshwa household.  Baji’s insecure wife Kashibai comes off as conniving and weak.  Baji’s mother Radhabai comes off as a domineering matriarch too fond of controlling the family.  The political savvy of the Peshwa women is portrayed as highly questionable. Again, this is a very believable scenario.  These were, in all probability, extremely ambitious wives of highly capable men folk, but too newly elevated to wealth and power – and predictably of limited world view.  The cloistered Brahmin upbringing would not have contributed much to their getting a broader outlook on life.

Kusum Chopra has done a great job researching a topic that is not found much in primary source material.  She has stitched together a tale that holds true to history.  It is admirable in an age when authors falsify historical facts in the name of writing historical fiction. (For example, I particularly find a novel/film a la mode ‘Jodha-Akbar’ deplorable, where a Jodha character is largely fictional.)   The gallant but tragic story of Mastani comes through cleanly.  She exposes the less than idealistic spouting of the Chitpavan Brahmin coterie that would not even leave Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj in peace.  (Paraphrasing Dr. Jadunath Sarkar, the empire that Shivaji created carried in its DNA the seeds of its own destruction. “The first danger of the new Hindu kingdom established by Shivaji in the Deccan lay in the fact that the national glory and prosperity resulting from the victories of Shivaji and Baji Rao I created a reaction in favor of Hindu orthodoxy; it accentuated caste distinctions and ceremonial purity of daily rites which ran counter to the homogeneity and simplicity of the poor and politically depressed early Maratha society.  Thus, his political success sapped the main foundation of that success…”)

It is heartbreaking when you go beyond the tragic destruction of two grand human beings as portrayed by Chopra, and consider the larger untold stories that the novel hints at but leaves out. 

First, Krishnasinh.  Can you imagine how a six-year old boy who has lost both his parents must have been brought up Muslim in a strict and disapproving Chitpavan Konkanasth household?  The slow and inexorable, and utterly needless alienation of your own?  Chopra makes a point of spelling out the fact that until the time of Ali Bahadur, the Chitpavan traditions persisted in Banda. 

Second, a willful destruction of Chhatrasal’s dream.  (Chhatrasal deserted from the Mughal army to meet Shivaji.  He offered to join Shivaji in his work of building the Swaraj.  Shivaji encouraged him to carve out an independent Bundelkhand, and promised help if needed.  Chhatrasal sought Baji’s help in repelling Muhammad Shah Bangash’s attack.) 

Third, the seeds of a defeat at Panipat were sown when the dissentions that were allowed to fester during Mastani’s life in Pune were not appropriately resolved.  If Kusum Chopra’s story is correct, Balaji Baji Rao must have had a somewhat fractious relationship with Gopikabai. 

I am a purist when it comes to writing style, and I think Kusum Chopra’s liberal use of Hindi and the Hindi vernacular in an English novel take away from her message.  When Ms. Chopra discusses Mastani’s dress and accoutrements, somehow, Mastani comes off as less than regal.  Mastani’s torment could have been made more poignant.  But Kusum Chopra should be commended for not making the book into a tear-jerking, maudlin tragedy.  While not completely stick figures, the characterization of both Mastani and Baji could have been fleshed out better. 

Kusum Chopra has done a remarkable job of researching the material for this novel.  In the ‘Afterword’, she shares her findings briefly.  She has personally interacted with the descendents of the Peshwa and Mastani.  In the section ‘Aftermath’, she describes in brief the events that happened after the deaths of the main protagonists of the novel – after the time span of the novel, if you will.  All in all, this is an extremely important book.  I don’t read Marathi, and I feel the lacuna keenly.  This book is a very important addition to the library of an English language reader seeking to learn about this period.

Who is an Indophile

As I chose this name, 'The Indophile' for my blog, I had to stop and wonder if I was even allowed to call myself an Indophiliac. Foreigners who are drawn to India are Indophiliacs. They have a strong preference to live India, live in India than anywhere else, even their own countries. But I can't be an Indophiliac! Even though I have lived outside India for almost sixteen years now, India has not really left me. I am perhaps articulating what every immigrant feels when I say this.

So after over a decade in South Central Illinois, I am as paranoid about winters as I was when I first set foot in this country. I take occasional comfort when the local people, born and bred in this area, also confess to disliking the winters. I try to convince myself that they too are as scared of the winters as I am. To me the winters spell 'hibernate'. I tend not to go out at all during winters. And even after so many years I dress inadequately, huddle into myself and shiver when I go out. I marvel that my young kids bundle up into gloves, hat and scarves, when I seem to require careful thought to do the same.

On the other hand, my urban, English educated Indian self is as comfortable with the books and the thought of the American college town, as any British or American. The Urban, English educated is probably less comfortable and even a little condescending of his compatriots from smaller towns, specially if they were educated in lesser known or local language schools. Sometimes I wonder if I am more comfortable with the British writing than with the American... Certainly I was brought up on British novels. Then again, I have not even visited UK... But is it even fair to generalize this kind of thing? There must be as many ways of thought - formalized or desultory - as there are sentient human beings. But even as I write this seemingly logical sentence, I know there are thought patterns in every generation. Just as anti-war liberalism and strident feminism were the predominant popular thought patterns of the seventies in the United States, unquestioning acceptance of filial edict and a resulting disillusion with their own belief system seems to have been the popular thought pattern of my parents generation in India.

Anyway, this is just a rambling examination, if you will, of what an Indophiliac means. I guess all I wanted to say was, even though in every generation, there emerges a predominant thought pattern, it is not difficult to find a meeting ground somewhere, if there were differing or even clashing thoughts and opinions. And yet, cultural differences will persist. In spite of a common global education. In spite of reading the same books. In spite of the influence of the predominant thinking of the times. In spite of having been taught to think in similar grooves. I wonder why. I still have no answers.