The Hero of Ramayana, Again

Photographer/actor N L Balakrishnan has been putting together an interesting series of illustrated sketches for Matrubhumi weekly. The latest is on the late film-maker G. Aravindan. Here is a free retelling from Malayalam:

The reputation of Aravindan's 'Kanchana Sita' is based on purely artistic considerations, but I tend to remember it as a hard-hitting and uncannily prophetic political statement.

The film was shot in the jungles near Bhadrachalam, Andhra Pradesh. Members of a local tribe called 'Rama Chenchu' were chosen as the main actors. A dark-skinned and somewhat pot-bellied local chief played the role of Rama; Laxmana had a pock-marked face - plain, daring subversion. In hindsight, Aravindan appears to have done a lot more; he anticipated and condemned Ramanand Sagar's TV Ramayana and its sanitized, sanskritized and saffronized Rama, a hero ready-made for invocation by Hindu fanatics. Aravindan was fortunate he worked before the word Hindutwa became a nightmare; if he were working post 1990, zealots would have summarily buried the film.

Aravindan's Rama was no He-man but a sad, pitiable Everyman, the kind of chap one sees everyday, everywhere. And the film ends with him committing suicide - a daring interpretation of the epic's denouement.

Aravindan used to dislike Ravi Varma and his 'calender paintings'. Varma's work, he would say, played havoc with our great indigenous art traditions and were vulgar parodies of our epics ready-made for appropriation by cheap revivalists - he did not even deserve to be called an artist. The Rama of 'Kanchana Sita' was a frontal assault on Ravi Varma's representations of our mythical heroes.

During Sanjay Gandhi's Emergency, entire villages of tribals were subjected to compulsory sterilzation, a kind of mass castration. I heard most actors in the film had been operated upon, including its hero. The dark days of the emergency, an ancient epic turned upside down and inside out, an emasculated hero who commits suicide, impoverished tribals playing upper caste heroes, they all add up to quite a lethal package, don't they?!

My comments: While setting the film among Andhra tribals was daring (having not seen the film, I have no comments on how it worked onscreen), Aravindan was not being particularly original in any which way in making his Rama commit suicide. Valmiki ends the epic with Rama's ritual suicide - Jalasamadhi. There are many, including self, who don't think much of Ravi Varma's mythologicals; but to call him a non-artist is plain nasty and stupid. The assertion that the film is a visual demolition of Ravi Varma's heroes is shaky: The picture of Rama as a muscular, clean-cut warrior striding resolutely forward is a VHP creation (that probably had its origins in Amar Chitra Kathas). The hero of Ravi Varma's Ramayana paintings was invariably a sickly wimp - in comparison, Aravindan's tribal actors actually look tough and vital (I say this based on the stills taken by Balakrishnan himself)! Balakrishnan's fears of the ruthless efficacy of Hindutwa vis-a-vis its opponents are exaggerated. Anand Patwardhan's film 'Ram ke Naam' was a no-holds-barred attack on Hindutwa, made when the Ayodhya movement was at its most intense and nothing much was done to it. The much more oblique and obscure 'Kanchana Sita' would have been a very unlikely target for the Parivar's ire(*).

Another allusion to Rama's end, this time by Paul Zachariah, writing from Arabia ( ' Nabiyude nattil' ) on the pre-Islamic Arabian king Dhu Nawas (again, my free precis from Malayalam):

"As part of his campaign against the Christian empire of Byzantium, the Jewish Dhu Nawas sacked and flattened the city of Najran. He burned and buried around 5000 of its Christian inhabitants; around 1500 of their children were sold into slavery. Sure enough, retaliation came from Byzantium's Ethiopean allies. A massive army swept across the Red Sea and wiped out Dhu Nawas's forces. Seeing no hope, Dhu Nawas mounted his steed and like Lord Rama plunging into Sarayu river, rode headlong into the sea, never to return again!".

Aside: Chariots abound in our ancient epics but there only scattered references to horse-riding. I doubt if Rama ever makes an appearance as a dashing horseman.

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(*) 'Ram ke naam'and its maker came to no known harm but the priest Lal Das, who had made some of the most daring anti-VHP statements in the documentary was murdered in 1994. The local police concluded that the murder was the result of a land dispute and had nothing to do with Ayodhya but many, if not most, observers were less than convinced.

The Ramayana as an Allegory

Deconstructing the Ramayana and choosing episodes from the many versions of the epic to show up Rama as the sanctimonious, cunning, patriarchal, anti-subaltern villain of the piece (or something thereabouts) has been fashionable among a section of our intelligentia for quite a while; and since the Babri Masjid fell, this fringe fashion became almost the norm among desi intellectuals (presumably the idea is to make Rama unacceptable to a large section of those who the 'parivar' was trying to rally/corral in his name). Even given that, I was more than struck by an article that appeared in a 2010 issue of the 'Matrubhumi' weekly and that I read the other day; written by eminent Kerala writer/intellectual Anand, the piece is a procrustean feat of imagination that manages to twist, squeeze and wring the ancient epic into a profoundly disturbing allegory of Power and its abuses. For good measure, Anand confidently asserts that getting this allegory across was Valmiki's primary intent when he wrote Ramayana (Aside: Valmiki himself was not so sure as to his objective; he begins Ramayana saying it is the story of a "brave and virtuous man" but signs off with the confusing: "thus concludes Ramayana, the saga of noble Sita"). An extract from Anand's meditation (my free translation):

"Ayodhya never knew peace. The city had impregnable defences against external attacks but its innards festered with intrigue.

Brothers fought for power; queens vied for influence; fathers banished their children; Husbands suspected wives. Sons revolted against their father...

The city's troubles and fratricidal conflicts spilled over its mighty walls and swept the land; there were repercussions as far away as the far South of India and beyond. Even the animals, birds, trees, rivers, mountains, the ocean, the very elements were sucked in. The evil shadow of War crept over the seas and eclipsed the island of Lanka. The ocean was violently rolled back to make way for savage hordes of invasion; mountains bearing life-saving flora were torn asunder and hurled across the land to aid the wounded and the dying. A treacherous incendiary attack set off a firestorm that laid waste to the finest city of the times, Lanka.

The genocidal war finally ebbed and the king returned but Ayodhya, the epicenter of troubles, remained a disturbed, demon-haunted place. Doubts, rumours, scandals kept the lives of its citizens in a chaotic churn. To retain his hard-earned power, the monarch thought it fine to abandon his wife, his constant and faithful companion for 14 years in the wilderness. He thought it his duty to his subjects to summarily decapitate a Sudra who 'dared' to adopt a monastic life. His spineless subjects willingly collaborated with the king in all his sordid acts. And when the king and his minions collectively doubted the paternity of her children, the hapless queen gave up her life in front of the World; but in that cruel city, none repented.

At the end of it all, guilt caught up with the king. Overcome by the burden on his conscience, he decided to commit ritual suicide. His courtiers, servants, citizens and even birds and animals went down with him. And that marked the beginning of the decline and ultimate collapse of a great dynasty.

The Ramayana is thus the terrifying chronicle of the jealosy, intrigue, lust for power and faithlessness of rulers and the self-serving, shameless servility of the ruled combining to utterly ruin a proud and powerful city. One hopes the cruel fate of mass-suicide does not revisit Ayodhya - and this country."

I won't comment any further and just stop with a hope that I share with Anand - that nothing bad happens to our country, Ayodhya included. And appropriately enough, today is Ram Navami in northern India.

Koothattukulam

Koothattukulam is an urbanized village in a far corner of Ernakulam district. It lies among foothills of the Ghats and is part of Kerala's rubber-belt. In recent weeks, I have been there several times (thanks to my hosts!).

Visit one was mostly about a beer-soaked ramble in the environs of the village. Even in the placidly vague haze that one's perceptions and thoughts had dissolved into, surprise was solid when an old and almost deserted temple suddenly materialized. We approached and inspected the exterior (we did not want to get caught tipsy on sacred ground and so did not enter); the temple was in such spectacularly poor repair it appeared to be slowly crumbling right in front of our eyes. But its wide inner space and some ornate woodwork on the Gopuram (although much of it had worn to smooth featurelessness) pointed to a certain eminence in olden times. We could figure out that Siva was the presiding deity. And that was that.

A senior resident of the place told us later: "What you guys saw is the Mahadeva (another name for Siva) temple. In there, the whole of Ramayana is carved in a long running frieze on the wooden ceiling. You should have taken a look!". I remember saying: "It would be nice if the temple just stays the way it is, neither collapsing nor someone funding its renovation - what is renovation these days but just replacing an ancient structure with some soulless concrete monstrosity?!"

I was back in Koothattukulam for Easter and was told: "That temple might soon get renovated. Some notice to that effect has been going around". On the day, there was no time left for a dekko.

Within a week, I heard from another independent source that "work has begun". I took the same afternoon off and headed for Koothattukulam.

Work had indeed begun but (whew!) it was not on the temple itself. A big square pit has been dug in a corner of the temple compound - it will become a sacred 'kulam' (tank). Contributions were invited from devotees at the hefty rate of 100 rupees for removal of a cubic foot of laterite. In temples elsewhere, I have seen pillars, walls etc bearing inscriptions "sponsored by ..."; perhaps, in some higher realm, the names of each kulam contributor must be getting subtly recorded on a cubic foot of pure space.

I entered the temple. Above the main 'balikkallu'( a sort of sacrificial altar at the entrance to the interior) is a square wooden canopy of side about 15 foot. Its central part is divided into 9 equal square panels but if these panels ever held something (I am told they might have had carvings of the Navagrahas) they are gone. Around this central portion is a border about 10 inches wide and here, in a running frieze, is the Ramayana - only on 3 sides; the fourth side is mostly filled by a reclining Vishnu and another Tripunithura-style 'Enthroned Vishnu'(the presence here of the latter a bit of a surprise).

The Ramayana episodes are only from the 'Balakandam' - the first of the 7 books that form the epic. Dasharatha's sacrifice, the birth of Rama and his brothers, Rama guarding some sages engaged in yagas, killing the demoness Tataka, then breaking Siva's bow and marrying Sita. So no Ravana, no monkeys, ... Even whatever is there is obscured by dense cobwebs and dust and grime and takes a good amount of staring at (aided by a good torch) to figure out.

Ramayana friezes appear to be a common feature of Kerala temples, irrespective of who the main deity is. And there is a pretty widespread tradition of representing Rama's 'nativity' in graphic detail. To my knowledge, among the many possible divine births, only those of Rama and his brothers get this treatment. The most (in)famous among several such cringe-worthy labor scenes are among the Mattancheri Palace murals (aside: recently, some commentators appealed to these murals to explicate certain stunning (or cunning?) stunts performed by one of our leading actresses). The Koothattukulam friezes are more demure with the newborns shown safe in the hands of ladies attending on their mothers.

Embedded in the wall of the inner sactum are about a dozen carved wooden panels - each a foot or so high and somewhat less than that wide. A particularly attractive one of them shows a meditating Vishnu (as at Badrinath, say). The 'Namaskara mandapam' in the gloomy interior has a carved wooden ceiling but I could not make out much of the details. (Aside: all over India, first rate works of art sit in dark spaces in temples, seldom seen by anyone let alone appreciated; why they were designed to be placed there is a mystery).

The inner sanctum of the temple lacks a 'tazhikakkudam'( a consecrated finial pot that sits at the pinnacle). I am told several Kerala temples have had these pots stolen in recent times, thanks to a belief that they have pellets of precious metals like radium and iridium hidden within; and some say these pots 'rice-pullers', endowed with magical powers to attract wealth.

I just discovered that the very name 'koothattukulam' means 'kulam (sacred lake) of the dancer (koothadi)' and derives from Siva (the cosmic dancer) enshrined in this very temple. It is a bit odd though that this several-centuries-old temple is only just beginning to have a proper 'kulam'of its own.

Conclusion: Kerala temple murals have received extensive coverage from experts; it is about time our equally rich tradition of wood carving did. The Ramayana at Koothattukulam is done at far too modest a scale to qualify as a truly outstanding work of art - the inner sanctum panels are more impressive to my eyes.

Note added on April 14th 2013: It has been a full eight years since this blog started. This is post number 276. These days I don't write as often as I used to but the effort remains pretty much at a constant level. Thanks to my Readers.

Note added on May 3rd 2013: I am told the temple renovation scheme has had a windfall of a rupee 2.5 crore grant. My fears have revived.

The Curious Case of Korah and Cowlick

I recently met an up and coming artist by name Kora Koulik. Whatever the name indicates (or does not indicate), it belongs to a solid, confirmed Keralan - male.

Although I don't know Mr. Koulik very well yet, I ventured to ask him about his unusual name. He must have heard such questions many many times, yet answered sportingly: "Kora is an old-fashioned Mallu Christian name of Jewish origin (the way I spell it is atypical - 'Korah' is standard) and 'Koulik' was freshly coined by my dad who wanted a community-ethnicity-nationality neutral byname for me".

I looked up 'Korah' in Britannica and it said: "Korah is the name associated with at least two Biblical villains.". Needless to say, I was compelled to explore more.

Here is what Wiki has to say on the Korahs: one was a descendent of Esau and fought against Israel, presumably without much success. But his career was a decidedly quiet one - compared to that of his namesake who led a daring revolt against Moses.

"Korah rebelled against Moses, and was punished for his rebellion when God sent fire from heaven that consumed him and 249 of his fellow conspirators. His two Reubenite accomplices, Dathan and Abiram, also perished when God caused the ground to split open beneath their feet and swallow them up with their families and everything they owned. Furthermore, the Israelites who did not like what had happened to Korah, Dathan, and Abiram (and their families) objected to Moses, and God then commanded Moses to depart from the multitude. God then smote 14,700 men with plague, as punishment for objecting to Korah's destruction."

If that really was something, what followed was a total knock-out:

Korah incited all the people against Moses, arguing that it was impossible to endure the laws instituted by the latter. He told them the following parable: "A widow, the mother of two young daughters, had a field. When she came to plow it, Moses told her not to plow it with an ox and an ass together (Deut. xxii. 10); when she came to sow it, Moses told her not to sow it with mingled seeds (Lev. xix. 19). At the time of harvest she had to leave unreaped the parts of the field prescribed by the Law, while from the harvested grain she had to give the priest the share due to him. The woman sold the field and with the proceeds bought two sheep. But the first-born of these she was obliged to give to Aaron the priest; and at the time of shearing he required the first of the fleece also (Deut. xviii. 4). The widow said: 'I can not bear this man's demands any longer. It will be better for me to slaughter the sheep and eat them.' But Aaron came for the shoulder, the two cheeks, and the maw (ib. verse 3). The widow then vehemently cried out: 'If thou persistest in thy demand, I declare them devoted to the Lord.' Aaron replied: 'In that case the whole belongs to me' (Num. xviii. 14), whereupon he took away the meat, leaving the widow and her two daughters wholly unprovided for" (Num. R. xviii. 2-3; Tan., Ḳoraḥ, 4-6).

...

Yahweh gave Korah the double punishment of being burned and buried alive.... Rabbah bar bar Ḥana narrates that while he was traveling in the desert, an Arab showed him the place of Korah's entombment. There was at the spot a slit in the ground into which he introduced some wool soaked in water. The wool became parched. On placing his ear to the slit, he heard voices cry: "Moses and his Torah are true; and we are liars"

Korah's tragedy - his audacious and brilliantly articulated attack on high and mighty priest Aaron and stern lawgiver Moses and the punishment he receives for his transgression - is quite an equal to what befell Prometheus for disobeying Zeus (and obviously, hugely more poignant than the fate of Mallu Mahabali for daring to challenge Indra). Note: Yahweh is more humane than Zeus in that he is moved by the pious Hannah's prayers to grant Korah a (indefinitely deferred?) 'pardon'.

Obviously, it is a mystery why Syrian Christians of Kerala have continued to give the name Korah to their sons (I myself have known a couple before meeting Koulik). A contemporary parallel is that the name of Esau (another solid, straightforward, Old Testament character cheated out of his inheritance by his smarter brother Jacob - a very unfair Yahweh favors the latter) is popular among Telugu Christians (as "Yesobu").

Note: The Esau-Jacob story has parallels to Karna-Arjuna. In both, the elder (and in many ways better) brother is hard-done by 'higher' powers. Moreover, Jacob and Arjuna are both heroes who get to fight duels with God himself in disguise. Therein is also a difference: Arjuna needs a sound thrashing to identify his superior adversory; Jacob has the better of his night-long wrestling bout and at the end, he refuses to let God get out of his grasp "until you bless me!". Some interpreters have said Jacob fought against only an angel and not God himself but that sounds contrived - angels are only messengers and servants to God, they don't bless people!

On the artist's byname 'Koulik': he articulated it as 'cow-lick'. Just like anything else, Wiki had plenty on 'cowlick':

A cowlick is a section of hair that stands straight up or lies at an angle at odds with the style in which the rest of an individual's hair is worn. Cowlicks appear when the growth direction of the hair forms a spiral pattern. The term "cowlick" originates from the domestic bovine's habit of licking its young, which results in a swirling pattern in the hair.

... Many people find cowlicks irritating, as they often conflict with the desired hairstyle. There are several methods of taming an unruly cowlick. For most people, a combination of the right hairstyle, length, product used, and styling technique can overcome the appearance. For people more serious about cowlick management, more drastic measures may be used....

There you are: like Korah, like cowlick - steadfast, plucky, die-hard rebels both!

Kora and Koulik would have been in perfectly combed sync had it not been for one serious cowlick: The name "Korah" is said to mean (of all things in Yahweh's creation!) "baldness." - he got it on account of the gap or blank he made in Israel by his revolt!

Added on April 16th 2013: I just saw Mr. Koulik at a game of tennis ball cricket and he invited me to join with a very ... intriguing compliment: "You have the physique of a batsman!". And between us, he does not seem to know of this post yet!

Impressions - Kerala Houseboats

Two months back: Our cheap and functional Sarkari ferry had just moved out of the Aleppey boat jetty onto the open Punnamada lake (Kuttanad, Kerala's lake district, begins here) when I saw the famous houseboats for the first time - swarms of them. All were chunkily built craft. Some were smallish, one room affairs; some, two-storied behemoths up to 30 meters long. All had noisy diesel engines; all had bamboo mat awnings - some decaying and blackened with soot, some freshly painted. Most had firangees and obviously wealthy desis chilling out on the upper decks with mugs of beer.

The boats felt about as authentic a part of the landscape as their occupants. They gave an impression of alien monsters that somehow got washed up into these placid backwaters - and have come to lord over them.

A month back: I call on Gyani at a small homestay resort on the Pampa channel in Kuttanad. The place had decent food and drink and hammocks stretched between coconut palms. My plan for a snooze in one of them failed - mainly due to the 'grr' of houseboats chugging past at the rate of almost one per minute and the none too subtle smell of diesel which never seemed to go away (that the day was sultry did not help). The resort proprietor says wistfully, comtemplating the beasts: "My cousin owns nine houseboats. I too hope to get a couple soon; the best way to make quick money!"

Later that evening, Gyani messages. "It is 8 pm. The houseboat show has mercifully ceased. The river is silent and I just had some 'Kallu'. The place is probably what it used to be and what it really ought to be. Seen Magritte's 'Empire of Light'?"

Today morning: Recovering from a bad cold, I lazily sit and watch the Republic Day parade on the telly. Along comes the float representing Kerala. A near life-size replica of a houseboat, effigies of an assortment of palefaces (probably some desies too) on its deck, looking thru cameras and binocs - no, no beer mugs, we Mallus are a sherief people, aren't we?! The Tamil devotional song 'Alai payuthe' plays in the background. I swear and switch off.

Today afternoon: A houseboat tipped over and sank. Four hapless Tamil tourists died, many more are in the hospital. The state government has ordered an enquiry and issued some threats that if need be, it will amend laws and restrict the house-boat business.

Update (Jan 31at): Heard the Houseboat was adjudged the best R-day float and won a GOLD MEDAL for Kerala. Hooray!

The Milkman - and More Fragments

The Original Milkman from Kerala

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For most Keralites, Swati Tirunal (1813-46), Maharaja of Travancore, is a bit of an enigma. Everyone has heard he spoke many languages and that he inspired many a classical musician and composed many kritis himself (some experts have stated - without proof - that he only patronised some gifted musicians and was not quite up to making contributions of his own to music(*). Some half-allegations that the king's promotion of Carnatic music led to the eclipse of Kerala's own musical forms have also been aired). Some know he opened the zoo and the observatory in Trivandrum. And that was pretty much about it until in 1987, a very well-made motion picture on the man hit the screens - it showed an idealistic and much too soft-hearted royal misfit getting ground down to an early, sad death as much by the sheer mediocrity of his near and dear ones as by the woes of power. And post that film, many mallus have come to know/believe that Swati had a serious affair with a dancing girl from Thanjavur. That really is it.

Very recently, I came to learn that Swati Tirunal built a palace called Puthenmalika or Kuthiramalika ('Palace of the Horses') near the Padmanabha temple in Trivandrum. On a visit to those parts, I took a look. Wiki has many details and pictures of this substantial (~100 meters long) and curious (it appears to lack inner courtyards, unlike most other Keralan buildings in its class) edifice. Its 122 carved horses were said to symbolize the 122 principal nerves in the human body (the number is said to come from Ayurveda) and so were intended to maintain its occupants in the pink of health. But, old-timers say, despite the horses and everything, the building also violated some basic vastu principles and so Swati died the year after he moved in there; whatever, the (terrified?) Royals, who still own the property, kept the place locked up for (!) a century and a half and then reopened it as a museum.

Kuthiramalika's structure - the beams, ceilings, supporting struts, doorframes - assembles what must be one of the densest collections of carved timber in the world; the earlier palace at Padmanabhapuram, while larger in floor area, feels utterly plain in comparison. But I left the place with decidedly mixed feelings - "Swati acted a bit like Shah Jahan there, didn't he? His kingdom was not properous, his subjects were suffering from the misrule of the British Residents and their Desi henchmen and still he built this big palace for himself, with all those little private theatres to stage musical performances and soirees!" - Not the sort of thing a compassionate idealist would have done!

And then, I saw a short article by ex-IAS man and scholar Babu Paul and was stunned to read the following: "Swati Tirunal it was who made allopathic medicine available to the citizens of Travancore for the first time. Moreover, apalled by the diet and nutrition conditions prevalent in the state and having noted that the local breeds of cattle yield very little milk, he arranged for Sindhi cattle and bulls to be shipped in from Karachi and set up dairy farms and cattle breeding stations."

Now I can say: it really does not matter much whether our man actually composed music or only hummed tunes, whether he spoke 20 languages or only half a dozen, even whether he ought to have built a 3000 sqft bungalow or a humble hovel rather than that horse palace. Babu Paul's info elevates Swati to the ranks of those few of our rulers who had their heart in the right place *and* their brain wired up and ticking. At the very least, he foreran the Milk-man of India (and fellow-Mallu) Varghese Kurian by a century and a quarter!

Rhetoric apart, someone really ought to come up with a detailed and critical biography of Swati. There must be tons and tons of documents and other bits of evidence lying around in the state archives. What I mean is the kind of biography that was written on Saktan Tampuran of Cochin by Puthezhath Raman Menon.

Kaviyur - Deogarh down South

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The Mahadeva temple at Kaviyur has a circular inner sanctum; its walls are thickly panelled with wood and have exceptionally fine carvings of episodes from our myths. Further intricate work is on the ceilings of the Namaskara Mandapam. Nobody appears to have documented this treasure in detail (M.G. Shashibhooshan has made but a start in his 'Keraleeyarude Devathasankalpam'). My outsider's judgement: some of the work at Kaviyur is comparable in style and quality to the sandstone reliefs and sculptures at Deogarh.

Mysterious 'Kattilmadam'

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A stone building locally called 'Kattilmadam' stands derelict beside the Pattambi- Kunnankulam highway near Njangattiri. Its existence is quite well-known (and Youtube even had a video of it). Kattilmadam must be Kerala's oldest freestanding structural edifice (perhaps dating back a thousand years or more); and it is a very unique structure - there is nothing on similar lines to be seen in these parts (although there is a possibility that more such buildings are lying undiscovered in our jungles). But despite all that, serious attempts to date it and to locate it in the cultural context of its times have yet to be made. As is fashionable, some have 'generally' said it was a Buddhist temple. I could see nothing particularly Buddhist there; the building is certainly 'temply' in a general sense (I sense a resemblance between it and some of the monolithic 'ratha's of Mahabalipuram) but it has no idol or anything - although what looks like a 4-faced figure is carved in relief above one of the entrances. When we looked in, its interior was empty - apart from a few empty beer and coke bottles. And a still greater mystery than Kattilmadam's origin and function has been its very survival - how and why, despite easy accessibility, it was never raided for its neat granite blocks.

Update (Feb 2013): The lyrical travelog 'Nilayude Theerangaliloode' by Alankode Leelakrishnan quotes a local legend which says the medieval rulers of Valluvanad (the region around river Nila) used to claim descent from the Pallavas of Kanchi (the builders of Mahabalipuram) so the ratha resemblance of Kattilamadam might have some serious factual basis. Leelakrishnan also repeats, with no serious evidence, the Buddhist vihara theory on Kattilmadam - an example of a fad current among Keralan intellectuals: to attribute most impressive ancient achievements to Buddhism and then wistfully state how this peaceful faith was cruelly stamped out by Hindus (IMO, whatever happened is very unlikely to have been a one-way massacre of Buddhists as I have written elsewhere in this blog).

'Bicycle Thieves'

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Having heard a lot about this film over many years, I actually saw it last week. What struck me is the film's effortless simplicity and utter freedom from pretense - nowhere does it feel that director de Sica planned a particular scene or composed a particular shot as if he is on to something special, that he about to craft a serious work of art. There is nothing like the train or the sweet-seller sequences in 'Panchali' or the scattering pigeons in 'Aparajito' or the final 'dance' in 'Seventh Seal' or the carefully composed deep focus shots in 'Citizen Kane' - the film has a story to tell and does just that. Even in its forgiveness episode (that probably won for the film the approval of Vatican), there is only a robust acceptance of plain reality - no preaching, no melodrama, no symbolism.

No film I saw in recent times got me so utterly involved in the fate of the protagonist. I wanted the story to end in a tense, cliffhanger freeze with the cycle-rider but a yard ahead of the mob chasing him. But I have no complaints that it did not.

Ram Guha's Proposals

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A week or so back, Historian, Cricketist and writer, Ramachandra Guha wrote a surprisingly inane piece at cricinfo with a proposal to start a trophy for India-Pak cricket matches and to name it after Tendulkar - whom he described, on very flimsy grounds, as "the man who has defined cricketing ties between the two nations for a generation". The subject being what it is, zillions commented; and that has encouraged Guha to go ahead and and write a still inaner article calling for the trophy to be rechristened the 'Amarnath - Kardar trophy'.

Over many years, Guha's take on most matters, cricket included, has consistently been measured, informed and reasoned. But of late, the graph has begun to show a serious and sustained dip - not a blip. Here is another recent gem: "At my age I have few ambitions left, in cricket or in life in general. Here is one: that I may yet see Kallis play in a Test match in Bangalore."

I hope Guha gets back to form quick; am sure he is young enough to do that.

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(*) a particularly interesting comment on the royal composer was "all our great composers were great vocalists. There is no record of Swati Tirunal even having hummed a tune!".

Galileo's Salute - and Other Fragments

INDIA'S INFAMY

An entry in the Guinness book of perhaps the late 1970's (as quoted by a Desi Year Book that I encountered in the early 1980s):

The greatest serial killer - To propitiate the goddess Kali, Behram, an Indian murderer, sacrificed 931 people. He carried out his murders in the state of Oudh in the early 19th century.

I recall, the shock of the number was amplified by the acute embarassment of Behram being Indian. One could easily visualize the fellow as a scarlet-robed, corpulent priest wielding a broad-bladed scimitar, about to chop off yet another victim's head under the malignant glare of a colossal Kali idol (the Amar Chitra Katha volume 'Kapala Kundala' has an evil Kapalik). But therein was just a bit of serious fishiness - his name. For I knew, thanks again to another Amar volume that Muslim 'slave' empress Razia was overthrown by a half-brother of hers called Behram (*). So, Behram was a Muslim name; how could a Muslim be such a fanatical Kali-worshipper? Then one reasoned: "The Brits would have misspelt the Hindu name 'Bhairav'/'Bhairaon' as Behram; after all, they coined Indian names like 'Mahomet Singh' - one of the villains in the 'Sign of Four'"

Just last week, I happened to read a bit on the phenomenon of thuggee - the terrible secret society of Indian killers called 'thugs' and about the man most responsible to stamping them out - William Sleeman (the source: 'Thug' by Mike Dash).

Thugs killed by strangling (with a team of 3 or more operators attacking each victim). They also robbed their victims but only *after* the kill; they would take no hostages and wouldn't spare anyone. Thugs hunted in packs and communicated among themselves in a secret sign language; they were a near-countrywide secret society, with thousands of initiates. Membership in this fraternity was often hereditary and in many families, a proud tradition. And a very healthy fraction of the thug community had Muslim names.

In Dash's book, I re-encountered Behram and was surprised to know he was a thug from Oudh. Wiki has an article on Behram - he was no 'Bhairav-Shairav' but plain Behram. After capture, he claimed to have been present at 931 murders (a claim downgraded to 125 in some versions of his story; anyways, if he were a proper thug, all his murders must have been 'achieved' by teamwork and of course, he would not have decapitated anyone). An alleged portrait of his available online shows a smart young man dressed in the secular fashion of those days (nothing whatever like a tantrik) - although when the Company caught and hanged him, he was said to be 75 years old. And he is also said to have had a son named Ali. Now, where is Kali in all this? Kali was the tutelery diety of the 'profession' of Thuggee (just as Vishwakarma still is for many artisans); ergo, Behram and co's murders were to appease Kali (only) to the extent that a Desi goldsmith's day-to-day work is a puja to Vishwakarma.

Rather than quote Behram as an example to show Hinduism as intrinsically evil (the old Guinness entry certainly is in perfect sync with such a 'Temple of Doom' picture) or vehemently assert: "no, no, he was a Muslim!", one had better recall Amartya Sen's professorial remark: "Indians of any background should have reason enough to celebrate their historical and cultural association with [for example] Nagarjuna's penetrating philosophical arguments, Harsa's philanthropic leadership, Maitreyi's or Gargi's searching questions, Carvaka's reasoned scepticism, Aryabhata's astronomical and mathematical departures, Kalidasa's dazzling poetry, Sudraka's subversive drama, Abul Fazl's astounding scholarship, Shah Jahan's aesthetic vision, Ramanujan's mathematics, or Ravi Shankar's and Ali Akbar Khan's music, without first having to check the religious background of each." and then, with reference to the other end of the spectrum, add: "Indians of any background should have reason enough to hang their heads in utter shame over [for example] Manu's bigotry, Aurangzeb's fanaticism, .... (some more usual suspects), Behram and the Thugs' murderous frenzy,..., without having to check the religious background of each." Note: IMO, Amartya Sen's selection reveals some interesting biases, but this is not the place to get into all that.

Note: Mike Dash's book is quite remarkable for descriptive passages that recreate the harsh, pathless land that was the Indian 'mofussil' during the Nation's entire history, save the last century or so.

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AN ODE TO A BUILDER OF DAMS:

When I was a primary schooler, there was panic that the Mullaperiyar dam might break any day and that a quarter of Kerala would be washed away; the hubbub lasted a few weeks and then petered out. A generation later, things flared up again in 2011. Politicians in both Kerala and Tamil Nadu (helped by very hyper visual media on both sides) fanned it into a major inter-people crisis. The tension persisted for a few months. Then, as if everyone concerned had gotten bored, things went into remission again.

And then, the other day, I saw an essay: 'An Ode to an Engineer' by Anand Pandian in the anthology 'Waterlines' edited by Amita Baviskar. I quote a bit (with some heavy editing):

"In December 2001, a few young men from the bustling town of Cumbum (it lies in the formerly barren rainshadow of the Western Ghats in the far west of Tamil Nadu) circulated invitations to an opening gala for the new internet cafe they had just established. ... The invitations proudly stated that their 'Green Valley Internet Browsing Center' was dedicated to the memory of 'Respected Benny Quick, the Founder of Cumbum Green Valley'.. ... The browsing cente was in the name of Colonel John Pennycuick, the colonial hydraulic engineer, almost universally credited with having brought a prerennial streamof river water into the Cumbum valley and the arid plains of Madurai.

In recent times, statues of Pennycuick have proliferated throughout the region. ... He is celebrated today for leading the construction of the Mullaperiyar dam which channelled the voluminous monsoon flow of Malabar's great Periyar river into the watershed of Vaigai.... (in a) magnificent engineering feat....The figure of Pennycuick dominates contemporary popular memories of the dam..."

The article quotes in translation an Tamil ode to the firangi engineer by a certain early 20th century poet named Anthony Muthu Pillai - Pennycuick "drove off burning hunger and crippling drought... he gave food, he gave Life, and spread a green silk brocade in this Cumbum valley" and the ode asserts: "his glorious memory shall live forever in our grateful hearts!"

Pandian sums up: "the dam channelled not just Water but Compassion!"

Must say, the eulogies remind me of how the legendary hydraulics expert Yu is remembered in China. But I have known Yu for decades and had never even heard of Pennycuick till a few days back!

I can say with complete conviction, hardly anybody in Kerala has even heard of Penny, the object of such profound veneration just beyond the hills, and of the impact his work has had on generations of average denizens of western Tam country. Whatever, before the controversy erupts again (its present sleep may last decades but it will rear its head again for sure), I appeal to at least my Mallu readers to read at least Pandian's essay; at the very least, it reveals how high the stakes are on 'the other side'.

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SPONSZ

Saw the French film classic 'Le Grande Illusion' by Renoir. Wonder if the look of the sad, stiff, monocled snob, Capt. von Rauffenstein inspired Herge's Colonel Sponsz!

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GALILEO'S SALUTE

After what happened in the sea off Kollam recently, there are many Mallus who think (with some reason) Italians are devious folk - shooting down unarmed strangers like turkeys, then deploying cultural and religious sentimentalism, International holier-than-thou homilies and plain bribery to save from retribution the backsides of the perpetrators of such a mindless act.

But whatever be the truth behind the sad maritime drama, I remain an admirer of Italy for its crazy creativity. Italians' heyday as a people smarter than anybody else might be long gone but they still have not given up *trying to be smarter than they themselves are* - and that is the one Human quality that appeals to me most. For instance, where else would one see such a thing as this:

From the Wiki article on the 'Museo Galileo' in Florence:

"Among the more famous of its collections is the middle finger from Galileo Galilei's right hand, which was removed when Galileo's remains were transported to a new burial spot on April 12, 1737."

Elsewhere online, one sees photos of the hallowed digit as it sits in splendid isolation in a glass bubble, saluting the visitor and the World its one time possessor had helped decipher.