>Tarunabh Khaitan: i found this piece very engaging. thought you might be interested.
>Namita Wahi: It says it all !

http://www.indianexpress.com/full_story.php?content_id=73349

Naipaul's challenge - Can India ensure a new renaissance that does justice to its traditions?
JAITHIRTH RAO

Posted online: Monday, June 27, 2005 at 0000 hours IST

The year 2005 will be remembered for, among other things, V.S. Naipaul's milestone speech in which he challenged Indians to come up with a contemporary intellectual discourse. Not since the great Bengal renaissance has there been a movement in India that does justice to our history, our social conditions, our aesthetic traditions, our literary canons and our political predicaments. The 20th century, was characterised by an excessive interest in matters political. One can date the beginning of this obsession to 1905: the partition of Bengal and the Swadeshi movement. Opposing British imperialism became an end in itself. And no movement that is solely focused on "opposition" can generate constructive, creative impulses. The best exponents of the Bengal renaissance (Rammohun Roy, Michael Madhusudan Dutt, Vivekananda, Bankim, Tagore) were concerned with awakening and building, not merely criticising and opposing. It is from this intellectual tradition that today's India should seek inspiration.

Drunk with the recent economic success, we may fall into the trap that intellectual, moral and aesthetic discourse is not important. The Prussian model which was obsessed with technological, military and economic successes, as ends in themselves, led to a hubristic denouement in 1945. Naipaul has explicitly warned us not to be seduced by the Prussian model. No organism (society, nation, civilisation, call it what you will) of the size of India with its tortured history and rich cultural tapestry can respond to the aspirations of its citizens by putting all its eggs in the basket of economic instrumentalism. A double digit rate of GDP growth is desirable and in our case even necessary. But it is not sufficient. Intellectual activity cannot be postponed till after we have achieved economic "development". The two processes have to be simultaneous, not sequential. A recent warning by a respected former Central banker, Bimal Jalan, that our economic growth rate could revert to proverbial Hindoo levels if the eco-system of our public policy is not fixed, should give us reason for pause. Once we have jettisoned crude violence as an option (if for no other reason than that it failed the Prussians!), "improvements" in public policy can come about only through public discourse.

The Bengali renaissance came up with definitive approaches to a range of activities that we refer to as "culture". Literature, history, music, painting, sculpture, religion, moral philosophy, political economy and social studies were all covered and an attempt was made to address the historical predicament of not just the Bengalis, but of the people of India in a manner remarkable for its energy, its honesty and the sheer exuberance of its multi-tonal talent. The individuals behind this movement were certainly influenced by the West. But they did not succumb to lazy imitation and acceptance of ideologies that had no relevance to their own environment. They were equally influenced by ancient and medieval Indian civilisation, by Adivasi traditions and by the plain fact of deprivation of every kind which haunted their countrymen during their own lifetimes. To these influencesthey applied the test of their own judgments; judgments arrived at after much thought and debate. If Indians exist today as one people under one set of laws with a modicum of shared aspirations, we owe it to the Bengali "torch-bearers" of the 19th century.

To allow our national intellectual debate to be hijacked by post-modernists cocooned in exile as tenured professors in American universities or by adherents of totalitarian political traditions which have been discredited in their own homelands would be a great folly. The debate has to be in India and has to be undertaken by people with meaningful economic, political and cultural stakes in India. The vocabulary that governs this debate needs to be developed in India today. If Michael Madhusudan Dutt could create a "new" language, so must we. By reaching out to both poetry and music Tagore created something new, but he also connected back to the traditions of Jaidev and Vidyapati. Before Bankim, there was no Indian novel. But his novels were notimitation European novels. He wove into them the tradition of the "sutradhar". Rammohun defended the Upanishads and condemned suttee. Vivekananda advocated activism as opposed to prevalent Hindoo lassitude, but he did it by harking back to Vedantic traditions, not by rejecting them. Daridra-narayana was a new contribution to a heartless caste-ridden society done with such finesse that no one notices its radical nature. Jamini Roy is the epitome of "modernism" in art and his modernism is tied up with the Adivasi aesthetic experience. Notice that none of the Bengali greats regressed into blind veneration of re-interpreted versions of India's past! Not one embraced narrow-minded chauvinism. Rammohun pleaded for English education. Tagore was even skeptical of the Swadeshi movement as he feared (and rightly so) that it appealed to atavism.

Our intellectual forbears have set us an example. In 2005, it is time we finally say goodbye to one hundred years of obsession with politics, especially the politics of opposition and confrontation. We must completely reject the mindset of discredited totalitarian ideologies (we hope "probasi" Bengalis take the lead and, who knows, Buddha-babu may still surprise us!). The discourse must cover every aspect of our emerging culture and ensure that it is a lively one embracing the outside world while seeking the well-springs of our collective unconscious and dealing with the continued prevalence of wretchedness for so many of our fellow-citizens ("they of the thin legs"). It is not an easy task. One of our finest directors, Shekhar Kapoor, made a film on Elizabeth I. It ends with the statement that in her lifetime, England changed from an unimportant country on the periphery of the continent to become Europe's richest country. And we all know that England's riches included poetry and drama in the same measure as her gold and her wool. It is up to us to decide if we wish to create an Elizabethan England or a Florence of the Medicis. Hopefully, we will not settle for a false paradise of the Prussian or Leninist kind.

The writer is chairman & CEO, MphasiS. Write to him at jerryrao@expressindia.com

"Most modern Indian cities strive to rise above ethnicity. Tell anybody who lives in Bombay that he lives in a Maharashtrian city and (unless of course, you are speaking to Bal Thackeray) he will take immediate offence. We are cosmopolitan, he will say indigenously. Tell a Delhiwalla that his is a Punjabi city (which, in many ways, it is) and he will respond with much self-righteous nonsense about being the nation's capital, about the international composition of the city's elite etc. And tell a Bangalorean that he lives in a Kannadiga city and you'll get lots of techno-gaff about the internet revolution and about how Bangalore is even more cosmopolitan than Bombay. But, the only way to understand what Calcutta is about is to recognize that the city is essentially Bengali. What's more, no Bengali minds you saying that. Rather, he is proud of the fact. Calcutta's strengths and weaknesses mirror those of the Bengali character. It has the drawbacks: the sudden passions, the cheerful chaos, the utter contempt for mere commerce, the fiery response to the smallest provocation. And it has the strengths (actually, I think of the drawbacks as strengths in their own way). Calcutta embodies the Bengali love of culture; the triumph of intellectualism over greed; the complete transparency of all emotions, the disdain with which hypocrisy and insincerity are treated; the warmth of genuine humanity; and the supremacy of emotion over all other aspects of human existence. That's why Calcutta is not for everyone. You want your cities clean and green; stick to Delhi. You want your cities, rich and impersonal; go to Bombay. You want them high-tech and full of draught beer; Bangalore's your place. But if you want a city with a soul: come to Calcutta.
When I look back on the years I've spent in Calcutta - and I come back so many times each year that I often feel I've never been away - I don't remember the things that people remember about cities. When I think of London, I think of the vast open spaces of Hyde Park. When I think of New York, I think of the frenzy of Times Square. When I think of Tokyo, I think of the bright lights of Shinjiku . And when I think of Paris, I think of the Champs Elysee . But when I think of Calcutta, I never think of any one place. I don't focus on the greenery of the maidan , the beauty of the Victoria Memorial, the bustle of Burra Bazar or the splendor of the new Howrah 'Bridge'. I think of people. Because, finally, a city is more than bricks and mortars, street lights and tarred roads. A city is the sum of its people. And who can ever forget - or replicate - the people of Calcutta?

When I first came to live here, I was told that the city would grow on me. What nobody told me was that the city would change my life. It was in Calcutta that I learnt about true warmth; about simple human decency; about love and friendship; about emotions and caring; about truth and honesty. I learnt other things too. Coming from Bombay as I did, it was a revelation to live in a city where people judged each other on the things that really mattered; where they recognized that being rich did not make you a better person - in fact, it might have the  opposite effect. I learnt also that if life is about more than just money, it is about the things that other cities ignore; about culture, about ideas, about art, and about passion. In Bombay, a man with a relatively low income will salt some of it away for the day when he gets a stock market tip. In Calcutta, a man with exactly the same income will not know the difference between a debenture and a dividend. But he will spend his money on the things that matter. Each morning, he will read at least two newspapers and develop sharply etched views on the state of the world. Each evening, there will be fresh (ideally, fresh-water or river) fish on his table. His children will be encouraged to learn to dance or sing. His family will appreciate the power of poetry. And for him, religion and culture will be in inextricably bound together.
Ah religion! Tell outsiders about the importance of Puja in Calcutta and they'll scoff. Don't be silly, they'll say. Puja is a religious festival.  And Bengal has voted for the CPM since 1977. How can godless Bengal be so hung up on a religions festival? I never know how to explain them that to a Bengali, religion consists of much more than shouting Jai Shri Ram or pulling down somebody's mosque. It has little to do with meaningless ritual or sinister political activity. The essence of Puja is that all the passions of Bengal converge emotion, culture, the love of life, the warmth of being together, the joy of celebration, the pride in artistic expression and yes, the cult of the goddess. It may be about religion. But is about much more than just worship In which other part of India would small, not particularly well-off localities, vie with each other to produce the best pandals ? Where else could puja pandals  go beyond religion to draw inspiration from everything else? In the years I lived in Calcutta, the pandals featured Amitabh Bachchan , Princess Diana and even Saddam Hussain ! Where else would children cry with the sheer emotional power of Dashimi , upset that the Goddess had left their homes? Where else would the whole city gooseflesh when the dhakis first begin to beat their drums? Which other Indian festival - in any part of the country - is so much about food, about going from one roadside stall to another, following your nose as it trails the smells of cooking? To understand Puja , you must understand Calcutta. And to understand Calcutta, you must understand the Bengali. It's not easy. Certainly, you can't do it till you come and live here, till you let Calcutta suffuse your being, invade your bloodstream and steal your soul. But once you have, you'll love Calcutta forever. Wherever you ! go, a bit of Calcutta will go with you. I know, because it's happened to me. And every Puja , I am overcome by the magic of Bengal. It's a feeling that'll never go away."

 

 

PhotoCredits http://puggy.symonds.net/~suraj/photos/kolkata

Shubho Bijoya

At the outset, I wish all the surfers and netizens ‘Shubho Bijoya'. Ma had come and gone. It is time for people to seek blessings from elders and indulge in ‘Kolakuli'. This is the time for forge a feeling of brotherhood and harmony. A pranam, a warm hug, is all one needs to rekindle the feeling of brotherhood and harmony. The day of Dashami is the day of bisarjan of Maa Durga.

After a long stint in her paternal home, she sets off for her in-laws' house, the house of Lord Shiva, the perpetual yet romantic philanderer. The day of Ma Durga's departure is bijoya dashami. From this day, the custom of doing pranam to elders and seeking their blessings begin. The psychological deadline of finishing the task of pranam was the day of Lakshmi Puja. But, subsequently, this deadline has been extended to Kali Puja.

In many places, a bijoya sammilani has been organised to perform this ritual in the minimum possible time. People from the locality or the club converged at a particular place, and the younger offered pranam to elders and those of the same age group, did ‘Kolakuli'. This tradition is still in vogue in rural Bengal, especially in district and mofussil towns. Earlier, this formed a perfect platform for a romantic tryst. Many a novel has been written where one will find that everything started from the day of bijoya sammilani. This is the day where everyone came together in the same place, sang songs, ate sweets and did pranam.

In an age of internet, such tradition, such warmth may be passe, but one simply cannot ignore the impact it had on the psyche of the people of the locality. This was how human bounds were forged and unity remained the essence of society. With time, Bengalis have learnt to eat samosa instead of singara, gulab jamun instead of Pantua, and all these rich traditions have become a thing of the past. What is surprising is that we have no regrets for doing away with a tradition which has the potential of building a society through unity and harmony.

The traditional misti has been replaced with kheer-er misti made by rajasthani halwai. Doi, rassagolla, mihidana, is not the hottest item of the season, rather people prefer kheerer sandesh and laddu, for the simple reason that the latter items has a longer shelf life than it's traditional Bengali counterparts. Most of the traditionally rich mistir dokan of North Kolkata rues the fact that simple milk and sugar-based sweetmeats do not sell much like their kheer counterparts.

The tastes of Bengalis are changing, the traditions are changing, so are the taste buds. People, nowadays, prefer offering pranam through phone. Can anything replace the human touch of pranam, a warm hug? Perhaps not. But the rat race and paucity of time only looks for easier methods and the human aspect of a relationship is becoming a casualty. The time of Durga Puja and bijoya dashami is a time to reflect upon these aspects of life.

Once again, I wish all shubho bijoya and my pranam to elders.

Subhayu Banerjee
22.10.2002