A Passage to the British Raj

Every time I have been asked the question 'If you could travel back in time to any period, which era would you prefer?', my answer has been the same. 1858 to 1947, India. In other words, the period of the British Raj that took over from the East India Company to rule the 'jewel in the crown' of the British Empire - India. When the British Raj formally ended, there were two nation states - India and Pakistan - carved out of it through a devastating Partition that killed almost a million in what was one of the largest displacements of people in human history. 

Partition is an event that haunts relations between India and Pakistan till today, an event that lead to as much suffering as it enabled freedom.Therefore understanding the British Raj, in my opinion, goes a long way in understanding the present situation and relationship between the two countries. Indeed the impact of the Raj on India is profound, both negative and positive and for anyone who loves studying history, this time period is a remarkably rich canvas to learn about. 

There are several brilliant books, both fiction and non-fiction, films, incredible photographs and videos from and based on the Raj. The material available is just inexhaustible. I've been on a British Raj reading spree of late, and when I'm not reading books and articles, I'm engrossed in remembering dates and events that lead to Independence and Partition. 

A Passage to the British Raj is my small project of sorts, an attempt to chronicle and compile a host of material - books (A Passage to India, Indian Summer: The Secret History of the End of an Empire, The Far Pavilions, The Siege of Krishnapur, Train to Pakistan, The Discovery of India etc), photos, videos, articles etc - that tell the story of the era preceding India's 'tryst with destiny' which can be viewed by anyone interested in the subject.

* This will include book reviews (for useful recommendations, check India- Book Recommendations), movie reviews, excerpts from books, snippets from articles, links to interesting  websites, quotes, photographs and just about anything history and literature-wise relevant to the British Raj. I hope to post as and when something interesting comes my way and hopefully, once a week. 

* This isn't a reading challenge, but I welcome everyone who is interested to learn more about the British Raj and the Indian independence movement to join this little project. 

* You can read things I post, read books/watch movies related to the Raj and review them, share interesting links or information you find, post them on your blog as part of A Passage to the British Raj (as long as you make sure to link to this post).

* Feel free to get involved as per your convenience and leave a comment here to let me know. You do not need to be an expert on the history of the British Raj nor do you need to know a lot on the subject, as long as you're interested in reading about it now. 

* Most crucially, there is no minimum/maximum reading limit or deadline, so enjoy this journey!

Finally, there are several interpretations, sometimes poles apart, of the history of British India and the birth of India and Pakistan. My interest lies solely in reading and trying to understand all sides of the picture. I don't claim to be an expert, merely someone who has a passion to understand the history that made her country. 

That's just about everything and I do hope you will all join me in this exciting passage to the British Raj. Spread the word!

The Emotions of Reading

"After all, reading is arguably a far more creative and imaginative process than writing; when the reader creates emotion in their head, or the colors of the sky during the setting sun, or the smell of a warm summer's breeze on their face, they should reserve as much praise for themselves as the do for the writer - perhaps more." 

 -  Jasper Fforde, The Well of Lost Plots

As always, not only does Mr.Fforde make a good point regarding  fiction, he makes it beautifully. For long people have spoken of the magic of books, how books suck the reader into a world of their own,  how they linger in the hearts and minds of readers long after the last page has been turned. Bookmarks acting as anchors navigating us through the literary world, dogears acting as messy reminders of a sentence much loved: these are remnants of a familiar reading experience. And like Fforde points out, it is the reader's emotional involvement with a book that makes the book a wonderful read.

For me, topics I relate to, themes I love, eras I'm interested in, make the book more personal. I tend to remember the books that moved me to tears more than the ones that were just  thrilling. Indeed when I sit back and think about it, I'm amazed by the power and control that a good book has on its reader: it can make you angry (The White Tiger), reduce you to tears (Curfewed Night), make you long to live in a fictional universe (the Harry Potter series) and simply stay in your mind forever (The Group, anything Austen). Books are far more than the sum of their words and pages.

I distinctly remember refusing to read some books at night, fearing that their topics were too sensitive and that I'd be left with nightmares. Sometimes I just stop at a paragraph, pause, linger and personalize it. I'm now reading Yasmin Khan's brilliant book The Great Partition: The Making of India and Pakistan and when I'm not teary-eyed, I get goosebumps. 

Clearly, Partition is an intensely emotional topic for many Indians and Pakistanis and a book doesn't really seem like the best outlet to learn about it and react to it. But it is. Sitting in a corner, book in hand, I reconcile with the history that made my country and the tragedies and confusions that came with it. Flipping through pages, I stare at events that impacted the subcontinent.

Sure, you could argue that a TV show or a film with its visual impact does the job even better. But there's something rather magical and comforting about sinking into a book and coming out of it understanding the world, looking at things in a different light. And many of those who claim books can change lives do have a point.

Two of my favourite things together: Kashmir and Austen

 

"To sit in the shade on a fine day, and look upon verdure, is the most perfect refreshment." -  Mansfield Park, Jane Austen 

Kashmir's pristine beauty seems so effortlessly picturesque. While I travelled through this gorgeous place, I had Austen for company. 

A Passage to India - E.M Forster

 

Rating: 9/10

Review:

A Passage to India is on TIME Magazine's list of the 100 best English novels from 1923 to the present. It is, deservingly, an oft-recommended classic that could be mandatory reading for anyone wishing to make sense of the British Raj and the complex web of relationships and attitudes it spawned between people of different cultures and different races. 

As an enthusiast of all things history, especially related to the British Raj, I'm glad I finally got around to reading Forster's masterpiece. This classic captivated me for the simple fact that Forster is a pleasure to read and he takes on a canvas that is as confusing, myriad and breathtaking as the country it is set in. It is the reader whom Forster takes on a passage to India, the India of the British Raj, showcasing a look into the attitudes, practices and opinions of the people who lived in that time. 

The plot seems deceptively simple: Adela Quested arrives in India along with Mrs.Moore to whose son Ronny serving in India, she might most possibly decide to get married. In their quest to find the 'real India' Ms.Quested and Mrs.Moore decide they need to meet Indians who are the ones oppressed by their British rulers. They meet Dr.Aziz, who is such a complex character I still haven't decided if I like him or not, and strike an unlikely friendship that sets off a series of events that will change the lives of all the characters in this book. 

Dr.Aziz's journey in making friends with Britishers like Cyril Fielding and Mrs.Moore is a wonderful exploration of racism, the scope of a relationship between the rulers and the ruled and the tensions it is subjected to. The story of Miss Quested and Dr.Aziz's misfortunes in the Marabar caves is a wonderful device with which Forster indulges in a brilliant analysis of cultural, religious, racial identities and the impact when they clash.

Forster is at his best when he provides vignettes of the manners and attitudes of the British men who governed India, right from the frivolous, never-ending conversation about Indian weather to startling though not surprising racist comments about Indians. Indeed, if  A Passage to India is anything to go by, Indian weather was the conversation topic of choice in the British Raj. As Ronny remarks:

''There's nothing in India but the weather, my dear mother; it's the alpha and omega of the whole affair' 

Forster is eminently quotable, something that adds to my enjoyment of a book. This is one of my favourite quotes from the book:

"We're out here to do justice and keep the peace. Them's my sentiments. India isn't a drawing-room."

"Your sentiments are those of a god," [Mrs. Moore] said quietly, but it was his manner rather than his sentiments that annoyed her.

Trying to recover his temper, [Ronny] said, "India likes gods."

"And Englishmen like posing as gods." 

Forster not only analyzes British attitudes about Indians, but also the clash of personalities between Muslims and Hindus in their India. There are intriguing conversations about the Mughal emperors, each of their contributions to the identity of Muslims in India and the identity of Indians themselves. There are stunningly descriptive, beautifully written passages about the fun and frolic of festivals like Gokul Ashtami (which, as Forster remarks, forms a stunning contrast to the solemn nature of many Christian festivals).

"By sacrificing good taste, this worship achieved what Christianity has shirked: the inclusion of merriment. All spirit as well as all matter must participate in salvation, and if practical jokes are banned, the circle is incomplete."

A Passage to India is clearly written by a writer, who while he may not be an impartial observer nor an encyclopedia of information about the Raj, offers an important perspective that would be foolish to ignore. This book is one I cannot wait to re-read, for there is certainly more than meets the eye of a first-time reader, even though the reader may be armed with a lengthy spoiler-filled introductory analysis. I highly recommend A Passage to India to anyone who loves classics, is interested in the British Raj or likes to understand race and religion in the context of interaction between people of different countries placed in an unequal platform.

Two Years of Book Blogging

Today marks two years of raving, ranting and gushing about books here At Pemberley. 

I've taken long breaks to deal with that nasty thing called non-online life,

Posted intermittently, snappily at times, 

Written emotional tributes to people who made my childhood, 

Indulged in fantasies enough to pick my own author dinner guest list, 

Spent way too much time pretending to be a literary jury member and choosing my favourite books of the year, 

Added a lifelong supply of books to my unending 'To-Read' list,

Checked for feedback and replies to my blog posts every few minutes after posting,

Recommended books that have anything and everything to do with India, 

Contributed my bit to spread the overwhelmingly contagious Jane Austen love,

Delighted in reading and sharing Rabindranath Tagore's wondrous poetry.

Books are my confidantes, my favourite means of escape from boring reality and quite simply, I belong to the I-can't-imagine-life-without-books category of people for whom blogging is yet another excuse to talk about books. I tend to believe that sharing your thoughts about a book is probably second only to reading the book itself.

To all my followers, to all those who have taken the time to comment on my blog, to all the wonderful book blogs and bloggers who inspire me, and to the amazing authors and their books without whom this blog wouldn't exist, much love and a sincere thank you. I do hope that you've enjoyed reading my blog as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Have a wonderful life and happy reading!

To quote Kathleen Norris: "Just the knowledge that a good book is awaiting one at the end of a long day makes that day happier." Amen to that. 

Fasting, Feasting - Anita Desai

Rating: 7/10

Review:

Fasting, Feasting has long been on my list of books I've wanted to read, for two reasons. One, because Anita Desai is considered one of the best Indian writers and it seemed almost blasphemous that I had never read her books. Two, because this book was shortlisted for the Booker prize in 1999. Fasting, Feasting didn't disappoint me, but it isn't the flawless masterpiece it could have been either.

Set for the most part in India, Fasting, Feasting starts out as a chronicle of the life of Uma, the first child, the unattractive, clumsy, pitiable daughter who is a burden on her parents MamaPapa conjoined beautifully as they are more of a single entity than two separate lives. The mishaps, tragic occurrences of her life make up most of the book, as she battles it out being the far-from-perfect, plain daughter whose attempts at marriage end in a disastrous fashion. Indeed Uma is the 'unmarried commodity' in a society where it is acceptable for a woman to be a failure at education, but sacrilegious to be a failure at marriage. Neglected, lonely, craving for company, left to do her parents' bidding as though she is their slave not child, Uma is the central focus of the 'Fasting' part which takes up most of the story.

Before I talk of the writing, here's a quote from the book about Uma's sister Aruna

'Here was Aruna visibly ripening on the branch, asking to be plucked: no one had to teach her how to make samosas or help her to dress for an occasion. Instinctively, she knew. The pale, pale pink sari, the slender chain of seed pearls, the fresh flowers, the demure downcast turn of the eyes, the little foot in the red slipper thrusting out suddenly like a tongue, and the laughter low and sly'

Anita Desai could write anything and I would read it. She is an enormously gifted author who does not feel the need to use complicated words or a laborious turn of phrase to convey her point. She writes simply, beautifully, vividly and paints a tragicomic picture of  first a dysfunctional Indian family and then a dysfunctional American one. Several reviews said that Desai wrote like Austen, with a keen passion to observe and comment about society and I definitely agree with that assessment. There's no pretentiousness in her writing, something which in my humble opinion, her daughter Kiran Desai's writing suffers from. 

This book is a must-read if simply for the brutally painful, important feminist observations on Indian family life. There is the daughter who is considered a big failure if she cannot land a good husband, the brilliant, beautiful, brainy cousin who isn't allowed to go to Oxford, with more focus on preparing her for marriage, a state of affairs where being beaten up by the husband and the in-laws is considered nothing unusual, nor worth acting over. The book soaks in tragedy and the helplessness of its characters might annoy you a lot, but the sinking realisation that this situation is a reality to many women, makes the book a gripping read.

My problem with the book, if I can call it a problem, is the rather abrupt need for the 'Feasting' part which chronicles Uma's brother Arun's time in the U.S, living with an American family during holidays. The boy has been brought up with the sole aim of studying, and studying well, finally being sent to study in the University of Massachusetts. Arun is quite a disappointed, weird lad and an absolute loner. Suddenly to prop him up as the main character in the final 'Feasting' part of the book seemed out of place to me. The pity and sympathy I had for Uma had fast evaporated by the time I got to Arun's sad story. The American family seemed more like a caricature - the overbearing mother, the son obsessed with fitness, the bulimic daughter. All of this succeeds only in making the reader as uncomfortable as Arun.

In all, Fasting, Feasting is definitely worth reading, but prepare for tragedy, pain and unhappiness. Judging by just the excellent 'Fasting' part with its unforgettable images of the society's expectation of women and their roles, I would almost give the book a perfect ten. But the abrupt 'Feasting' part reduced my appreciation for the book. Regardless, I look forward to reading Anita Desai's other books and I'm glad I finally got around to reading another wonderful Indian writer.

P.S Delighted to be back blogging about books! I sure did miss being at Pemberley and look forward to catching up with all my favourite book blogs :)

Rest In Peace, Uncle Pai

For every Indian child, books would mean only one thing: Tinkle. My Grandma, cross at me reading 'comics' with small images and text that might harm my eyes, would scold me for reading Tinkle. And I would argue with her valiantly. Any criticism of Tinkle felt like a personal criticism. Excellent performance in exams, good behaviour would be rewarded with a special copy of Tinkle or Amar Chitra Katha. Tinkle and Amar Chitra Katha made me fall in love with books and today, I cannot imagine life without books.

Uncle Pai, as he was known by every child and teenager (who wouldn't admit he/she still reads Tinkle but enjoyed it tremendously), is no more. After seeing that Indian children seemed to know more about Greek mythology than Indian mythology, Anant Pai launched Amar Chitra Katha, India's largest selling comic book series which told to a young India stories from its past. Mythology, history, fables, epics, the colourful pages of Amar Chitra Katha were the Indian child's guide to understanding India and her rich, vibrant past.  

One of the most vivid images I have of my childhood is of lounging on my bed and seeking refuge from the searing heat during summer holidays, through the way I knew best: flipping through the pages of Tinkle Summer Special. Anant Pai's Tinkle and Amar Chitra Katha came to define many of our childhoods. A friend recalls how fashionable and important it was to possess a copy of the latest edition of Tinkle digest. 

Long-winding train journeys with noisy kids would usually be a nightmare for parents. But a copy of Tinkle, bought hurriedly at the railway book stall, would reduce tension for a couple of hours at the least. So addictive were these books that before every exam, my mother would confiscate my copies of the books. Only to discover more hidden editions of Tinkle every day. Tinkle was smuggled into school bags and kept between the pages of text books and stealthily read while a particularly boring Biology teacher droned on and on. 

A big hug and a copy of Tinkle was the best way to say sorry to me. My head was always immersed in a copy of Tinkle, leading my Grandma to scold my parents for spoiling the child by always getting her these comics. For all my love of Tinkle and Amar Chitra Katha, I never really knew or read about the man who created these books. 'Uncle Pai' was just a name, a friendly name. I was more interested in reading the actual books.

Of course, at one point, it became 'fashionable' for me to read non-Indian authors. As I grew older, Enid Blyton and Carolyn Keene captivated me and my huge collection of Tinkle books was left forlorn. But no beautiful building exists without a strong foundation. Anant Pai's books were the firm foundation of my love for reading.  I would have never really become a bookworm if not for Mr.Pai.

To every Indian child who grew up reading his books, his death will be a personal loss. For several hours of glorious reading, for the unadulterated joy of running to the neighbourhood newspaper shop and getting the latest edition of Tinkle, for memories that were born out of reading Amar Chitra Katha, for the nostalgia-tinted thrill that sighting a rack of Tinkle books brings to me even now, I cannot thank Anant Pai enough. I am forever indebted to you, Uncle Pai, for lighting the spark of reading in me. Your books remain with us all, bound to be gifted from generation to generation of Indians. You shall always remain 'Uncle' Pai to me, the friendly uncle who helped a child discover books. May you rest in peace.