Do We Need So Many Statues?

 

When the world’s largest statue of Dr. BR Ambedkar was still under construction, I would be awed by the scale. Yet, like most other well-meaning savarnas, I would wonder if the money being spent on the statue could not have been better spent in setting up the infrastructure to deliver better education, meaningful livelihood opportunities and quality healthcare to the people who need it the most. Wouldn’t that create a more equitable world, I thought.

When I started reading Dalit authors, I came to realise that the statues of Dr. Ambedkar instil a sense of pride and confidence in people. They symbolise the aspiration to break free from the clutches of casteism, and to take their rightful place in the world.

A few weeks back, a public intellectual asked a rather provocative question- “There are more Ambedkar statues in India than Gandhi’s. Is that because he gave us a country which Gandhi could never have conceptualised.” This question sidesteps the fact that Dr. Ambedkar is directly linked to Dalit and Bahujan pride, and it is by erecting statues that the community asserts itself and it is also the easiest way for politicians to appease the community.

Ironically, if the nation had succeeded in removing the bane of caste, and there was genuine social, economic and political equity, then we might have fewer statues of Ambedkar. Till such a day arrives, we need to educate, agitate and organise. It will not be easy, because that would mean acknowledging our privileges and unlearning things we took for granted. But we must.

Review: Girls Who Said Nothing & Everything

 [Review of a book of essays by Meera Vijayann on growing up as a young woman from a small town in India]

‘Girls Who Said Nothing and Everything’ is a collection of eleven autobiographical essays on growing up as a young woman in India.

“In the Tamil Nadar community”, the author Meera Vijayann writes, “speaking the truth about your family is a great betrayal. You are raised to feel indebted to your parents.” The eldest of four daughters, the author was born in a small town in Tamil Nadu to parents who wanted “the best” for their children, but didn’t really know what “the best” really was. While fstill in school, the author maintained a journal as a way to process her feelings, and it was while revisiting these journals decades later that she thought about compiling them into the essays that made up this book. The author, however does not consider these essays to be betrayal, and instead sees them as “a refusal to continue the oppressive culture of silence that I was raised in.”

The book begins with an incident where the young Meera is inadvertently held responsible for a classroom accident she did not intend to cause. After bearing the punishment in silence for a few days, Meera confides in her mother, who takes it up with the school authorities. While her mother stood up for her, and displayed righteous anger at how she was wrongfully blamed, this was not what Meera wanted. In her words, “I didn’t want her to stand up for me but to say something sweet and motherly.” She is almost angry with herself for confiding in her mother. Meera’s relationship with her mother continues to follow the same pattern. Her mother, who was forced to sacrifice her dreams at the altar of marriage wanted a different life for her daughters. Yet, she wanted her daughters to fulfil their dreams within the constraints imposed by a patriarchal society.

The book follows a chronological sequence, but more than that each successive essay marks different constraints the author has to overcome before she can achieve the personal, social and financial freedom she craves. She deals with issues which were relevant three decades back, and unfortunately continue to be relevant even today. She talks about casteism, classism and nepotism- the many ways in which society conspires to break down the spirit of ambitious young people. She speaks a lot about financial independence, and of how parents fail to prepare their children for the outside world by excluding them from conversations involving money.

Her essays expose the hypocrisy of society which looks away when young girls are sexually abused by older men, but are quick blame women for “tempting” the men with whom they are in a consensual relationship. All the institutions which are supposed to protect women, the author soon realises, do so only if the women grant blind obedience. She speaks about the power of role models, and of how hearing Barkha Dutt say “Oh girls, you’ll do great” served as a talisman for her. As she says, “All week, I couldn’t stop thinking about those words. I wish my parents had said something that kind and simple.”

While the author bemoans the fact that her parents didn’t provide the emotional support she needed while growing up, she also grows to recognise the fact that they themselves were victims of generational trauma. It was eventually her parents who took a loan to send her to UK to study so she could have the life that was denied to them.

‘Girls Who Said Nothing & Everything’ documents the coming of age of a woman who has to challenge social expectations and create opportunities for herself in a land where “every living thing but a girl has freedom.” It is a testament to fact that generational trauma can be overcome, and healing is possible. It is also the story of female solidarity, and of how women can uplift other women.

Read this book if you are interested in reading a personal memoir which also serves as a social commentary on how family, community, educational opportunities and caste come together to stunt the growth of young women.

[AN: I received a review copy of the book through the Blogchatter Book Review Program. You can buy the book on Amazon or wherever books are sold. The views are my own.]

The Inspirational Story of Daktarin Jamini Sen

 [Book Review first published in YouthKiAwaaz]

“In 1912, when most women in British India were still denied formal medical education, an Indian woman entered the global medical establishment. Jamini Sen became the first woman Fellow of the Royal Faculty of Physicians and Surgeons of Glasgow, and then gradually disappeared from India’s public memory.”

When I read these lines, I immediately knew that I wanted to know more about Daktarin Jamini Sen. Most of us know the names of the three pioneering women doctors from India- Anandibai Joshi (the first Indian woman to quality as a doctor), Rukhmabai Raut (the first Indian woman to practice Western medicine in India) and Kadambini Ganguly (the first woman to qualify as a doctor in India)- the names and stories of the women doctors who followed them are largely forgotten. Yet, each of them would have had to overcome immense obstacles in the course of getting qualified and then while actually practicing medicine. What made this particular story even more intriguing was the fact that Jamini Sen was not just the first Indian woman to become a Fellow of the RFPSG, but the first woman regardless of nationality!

Nothing, however, prepared me for the inspirational story of Daktarin Jamini Sen!

The story begins in a village in what is now Bangaldesh. A young mother of two daughters is left destitute after her father-in-law passed away. While her husband is still alive, the villagers want her to forget about him since he ‘left the faith’ after joining the Brahmo Samaj movement. The lady, however has a mind of her own, and follows her husband to the city after first laying down the condition that she will remain true to the religious faith she grew up with. Both the daughters were given an education, and the younger of the two qualified as a doctor.

Then, instead of practicing medicine from the safety of her home, Daktarin Jamini Sen relocated to Katmandu to take up the position of the physician to the royal family. She was more than just a medical doctor- she became a confidant to the members of the royal family, and she worked closely with the local administration to introduce public health measures. Many of these sanitation and cleanliness measures were incorporated as a part of religious ritual, and as far as she was concerned, it didn’t matter who took credit as long as health standards improved.

When she returned to India following political turmoil, she decided to go abroad to acquire further qualifications, after which she joined the Indian Women’s Medical Service and served in many remote outposts of British India. In many of these postings, she was responsible for setting up or modernising the local hospital, and she commanded much respect from the people she treated.

The book does not, however, only deal with Daktarin Jamini Sen’s professional triumphs. It goes into the effort she had to put into maintaining her “virtue”, of the discrimination she faced from both men and women, of the baseless gossip that followed her wherever she went, and of how the system tried to browbeat her. The book also describes her spiritual experiences, and tries to understand some of the choices she made. There is also a diversion into how the saree drape evolved and of the particular style adopted by Daktarin Jamini Sen.

The book is written by the great-grand niece of Jamini Sen, and draws upon oral family lore. However, it is also the product of meticulous research and the writer gives precise citations wherever possible.

I would recommend the book to anyone who is curious to hear the stories of the female pioneers who helped pave the way for greater gender parity. It would also be of interest to people who are interested in learning about the Brahmo community in Calcutta and about the politics within the Royal Family of Nepal.

I received a review copy from Penguin India, and this review reflects my unbiased opinion.

“The Wrong Way Home”- For Fans Of Nora Ephron And Liane Moriarty

 [I reviewed the book for YouthKiAwaaz]

Summary
On the first anniversary of her divorce, 40 year old Nayantara’s social media feed exploded with the news of her ex-husband’s marriage to a young influencer. The divorce had been hard on her- she’d walked away without an alimony, been shunned by mutual friends who chose to align themselves with her ex-husband, and found her PR business foundering because the divorce closed her off from certain circles. Her confidence which was at an all-time low was further dented when she found herself referred to as “his ex-wife is in PR”, instead of as “the glamorous head of a boutique PR firm” which is how she thought of herself. When she lost an important client because she was busy doomscrolling instead of attending an event, and was asked to vacate her apartment because the housing society decides to revoke the tenancy of unmarried women, she realised she had to turn things around.
She takes on some questionable clients, and allows herself to get emotionally involved with a suave and rich man- anything to convey to her ex-husband that she is over him! But will her conscience allow her to keep those clients, and should she ignore all the red flags her romantic interest sets off? More importantly, will she learn to stop wanting to impress her ex-husband, in the hope of making him regret leaving her?

The book is full of well etched characters.
There is also Vikram, a Silicon Valley techie who chose to return to home with his daughter to set up schools in inaccessible Himalayan villages. He is thoughtful and kind, and Nayantara’s mother adores him, but do the bright lights of Mumbai blind her to his obvious interest in her.
Rohit is the best friend every young (or not so young) woman can want. He understands her needs, knows exactly which wine to pair with every crying session, is kind and compassionate, yet, never shies away from telling her exactly what he believes. It is Rohit who makes her realise that she should stop caring about what her ex-husband thinks and start living for herself, thereby setting her off on the journey towards recovery.
Nayantara’s mother is a force of nature. An environmental activist, she was too busy saving the world to be a doting mother to her child, but it is her common sense and compassion which is the cushion that her adult daughter desperately craves.

But the real star of the book is Nayantara. Though she comes across as lacking confidence in herself, and is constantly evaluating herself through the eyes of her ex-husband, it is clear that she is brilliant in her profession. She is thrown into a desperate situation more than once and each time is able to avert a disaster because of her quick thinking, her contacts and her intuitive understanding of PR.

Told with wit and humour, this is a deeply feminist book
On the face of it, ‘The Wrong Way Home’ is a book about the swish set of Mumbai, but below the gloss, it is a gritty book on the reality of being a single woman in the city. The book is about how the city treats single women and the presumptions made about them. It is about how difficult it is to be a female divorcee- of how men treat you as prey and women as potential predators. The author talks about how hard it is for middle aged women to enter the dating pool, and of the compromises many women make to preserve their public personas.
As we accompany Nayantara on her journey towards healing, we perhaps anticipate the choices she will finally make- but what sets this book apart from many others is that these choices are not explicitly stated. This is a deeply feminist book, but one where the message is buried under humour, and an engaging storyline. If you like Liane Moriarty and Nora Ephron, you will love this book.

Author’s Note: I received a review copy from the publisher. The views are my own.

Is Mrs. Bennet really the tiresome character she is made out to be?

[My tribute to Jane Austen on the 250th year of her birth, published in USAWA Lit Review.] Pride and Prejudice. The one classic which even people who haven’t read any other classic have read. The book that has spawned countless film and television adaptations and inspired countless retellings in genres ranging from cozy lit to horror. The book which has been co-opted by writers from the subcontinent because the story it tells remains contemporary. If you ask any of those readers to name the character they dislike more than the rest, the answer is likely to be Mrs. Bennet. Flighty, indecorous and ambitious, Mrs. Bennet is reviled far more than the odious Mr. Collins, the headstrong Lydia and even the untrustworthy Capt. Wickham. Yet, is Mrs. Bennet really as tiresome as she is perceived to be? Or is her motive misunderstood? Mrs. Bennet was the daughter of a shopkeeper who had married into the gentry- her husband had inherited an estate that provided an income sufficient to maintain a decent, thought not luxurious, standard of living. However, the estate came with an entail which would have ensured that after Mr. Bennet’s demise the estate would pass on to a distant male cousin, leaving Mrs Bennet and her five daughters without a home or an income. Since there were few socially acceptable occupations for unmarried women, wasn’t it natural for Mrs Bennet to want to secure their future through marriage? Write on Medium Times may have changed, but during the period when Jane Austen wrote Pride and Prejudice an unmarried gentlewoman without a fortune was literally one death away from destitution. While a reasonably well educated and moderately accomplished gentlewoman could, perhaps, secure an opening as a governess, that would leave her at the mercy of the family that employed her and would potentially close off chances of a subsequent marriage. Since Mrs Bennet hadn’t produced any male heirs, she understood that the only way to prevent her daughters from being rendered homeless was by ensuring they married suitable men. To make matters worse, the Bennets were stuck in the country where there was an acute shortage of suitable men (because for gentlewomen to marry tradesmen was unacceptable socially). Who can blame Mrs. Bennet for shamelessly throwing her daughters in the orbit of even remotely suitable men? The attitude of Jane and Elizabeth couldn’t have made it any easier for Mrs. Bennet. Though both were nearing the age where they could no longer be considered “eligible”, neither seemed to display any alacrity in trying to secure their future either by marriage or (like Jo in Little Women) through an occupation which would ensure financial independence. While both the young women were quick to decry their mother’s lack of decorum, neither made the slightest effort to alleviate her genuine fear of them being left destitute. While we tend to look at Mr. Bennet favourably, and silently cheer him on when he directs sarcastic barbs at his wife, the reality is that he ignores the perilous condition of his family and does nothing to secure their future. Though society expected men to be financially responsible for their women, it is Mrs. Bennet, and not her husband, who was trying her best to secure financial security for as many of her daughters as she could. On the face of it, Mrs. Bennet might appear to be a flighty social climber lacking in both charm and decorum, but she was nothing if not pragmatic. She certainly behaved in a manner which made her the butt of jokes, but she did so because she understood the perils of the society she lived in and she wanted nothing more than to secure the future of her daughters. She is perhaps one of the most misunderstood characters in Pride and Prejudice. More than two centuries after the publication of Pride and Prejudice you still find the descendants of Mrs. Bennet in every society. Women married to impractical men who are forced to employ subterfuge to survive in a world governed by patriarchal norms. Jane Austen was certainly a writer of her time, but her works also retain a timelessness which makes them as relevant today as they were when they were written. We celebrate the 250th anniversary of her birth this year.

Book Review: Piranesi, Susanna Clarke

 Piranesi begins with the narrator watching the tides come in from three directions, their waters meeting without losing their essence, climbing up the marble steps, nearly reaching the statue behind which the narrator is hiding. As the tide waters recede, you come to see a House divided into three levels. The Lower Levels are Ocean teeming with fish and seaweed, the Middle Levels are an endless procession of marble steps decorated with statues where humans and birds live, and the Upper Levels are the domain of the clouds. The Middle Layer has a series of Halls connected by Vestibules- so many of them that the farthest halls are 20 kilometres away.

The narrator, who calls himself the Beloved Child of the House, is the only permanent resident (though he thinks the other resident who he calls The Other is a permanent resident too), but there are the skeletal remains of 13 other human beings. The narrator doesn’t know how he came to be in the House, and while he keeps a detailed and indexed Journal, he doesn’t look through old entries for answers. He just potters around, making observations, paying respects to the human bones, drying seaweed for consumption and feeling grateful about being chosen for the house.

You wonder what the House is- is it a parallel universe, is it fantasy, is it something he created in his imagination. But just when you decide it doesn’t matter what the House is, things start to happen. The mystery unravels. The good guys and the bad guys sort themselves out. Things reach what could be considered a logical conclusion. And then the book cycles back to the beginning- were the tides real or did they exist in the mind? “The Beauty of the House is immeasurable; its Kindness infinite.”

The book is about solitude and reverence. Curiosity and contentment. Innocence and evil. It is a book about human beings while appearing to be a book set in a fantasy land. It is the story of a mind which is curious without seeing any advantage from the curiosity. It is world that either traps you, or sets you free.

The book is just about 250 pages long, yet felt much longer. For the first 100 pages, the narrator was just pottering around, setting the scene and this is where I twice abandoned the book. Could most of those pages have been edited out, so the book was much shorter? Doing so might have ensured more people finished the book, but each of those pages of nearly aimless wandering was essential for creating the backdrop against which the actual story could play out.

This may not be a book for everyone, but if you find yourself entrapped by the book, it will never leave you.

Not a Review of “Mother Mary Comes To Me”

 [Published as an Editorial Dedication in USAWA Literary Review]

Like every other woman who fell in love with the character Arundhati Roy portrayed in “In Which Annie Gives It Those Ones” and followed her career as a writer and an activist, I wanted to read her memoir from the day I first heard about it a year ago. I even read (and loved) God of Small Things earlier this year in preparation for the book (I had been meaning to re-read the book for many years- but it happened only now). When the book arrived, I waited only long enough to admire the cover before falling on the book. I read through the night, and when I finished, I started reading again- slower this time. Two weeks after finishing the book a second time, I am still struggling to pin down my thoughts.
Since so much has already been written about Arundhati Roy and the book, I will not even attempt a review, and will just write about how the book made me feel.

We know that God of Small Things had many autobiographical elements, so obviously parts of Mother Mary Comes to Me seemed like deja vous. The parallels were uncanny, and when at a book launch her uncle introduced himself to a journalist as “I am Chacko”, you merely smiled at the confidence of a man who was willing to acknowledge the inspiration behind a not very favourable character. Her bohemian lifestyle after she arrived in Delhi was just that- an honest account of her life. It was not, as many claim, “poverty porn”, nor was made out to be heroic or tragic- it was just slightly wry description.

As the title suggests, Roy’s relationship with her mother (who she calls Mrs. Roy) is at the core of the book. Strong mothers often beget equally strong daughters, and such relationships are invariably characterised with strange dynamics. Their constant headbutting is something many daughters and mothers of daughters will empathise with, because it is so familiar to us. But their constant tussles were of epic proportions because both of them are larger than life. They appear to want nothing more than to reduce the other to rubble, yet they trust nobody as much as they do each other. Many reviewers have commented on the ethics of indulging in character assassination when the other person is not around to defend themselves- I do not necessarily agree with this, because memoirs by definition are expected to present only a single point of view. But even otherwise, it was clear that despite all the stories told, the bedrock of their relationship was love and respect. This finally fell into place for me, when I recalled was had been engraved on Mrs. Roy’s headstone- BELOVED. Beloved; the same word written on a tombstone in Toni Morrison’s book of the same name. Beloved; the name chosen by a mother who loved her children so fiercely she was willing to kill them to ensure they didn’t have to fall back into slavery. Beloved; a love so fierce, you could kill for it.

If I want to sum the book up in one word, I will pick the tritest one of all- Honest. Towards the end of the book, she speaks of how horrified her mother had been when she knew she was going to have a second child. No child would want to know she was not wanted, but Roy takes it a step further by reminiscing about how she had terminated an unexpected pregnancy. How might it have been if Roy’s mother had the same choice available to Roy herself? Selfishly, I am glad she didn’t have the choice- the world would have been poorer without Arundhati Roy in it.