Sunday, January 21, 2018

First Light




Book Title: First Light  
Written: Sunil Gangopadhyay 
Translation: Aruna Chakravarti  

It took a long time for me to finish First Light by Sunil Gangopadhyay. It is 753 pages of fine print. The original is written in Bengali, one of the vernaculars of India. It is well-translated to English by Aruna Chakravarti. The title in vernacular reads, Protham Alo, which translates, First Light. It is an acclaimed book.

The story begins with a Maharaja, Manikya, of the small realm of Tripura who never cedes his power to British rule. He has several wives and concubines. He begets a son with a Kachhua, a low caste woman. The child, Bharat, can never inherit the throne. Bharat, in his youth, promises a girl, Bhumisuta, to take care of and never leave her. But he runs away due to circumstances. He, she and the story meander through places and people after that. 

This is a fictional and factual narrative of some of the most prominent figures of late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries of Bengal Presidency under British rule over undivided India. The historical figures I am familiar with are Aurobindo Ghosh, Rabindranath Thakur, Swami Vivekanand, Ramkrishna Paramhans and Bal Gangadhar Tilak. The poet, Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay who gave us our beloved National song, Vande Mataram, is also featured. All figures, whether real or fictional are from only united Bengal. These personalities are made to connect through servants, actors, friends, religious figures or courtesans.

This book addresses the good, bad and ugly features of the social, political, financial and cultural fabric of India of the time.

It touches on a gamut of subjects such as foreign rule, royalty, polygamy, child marriages, widow remarriages, sati system, poverty, theater acting, literature, illiteracy, brotherhood between Hindus and Muslims, prostitution, untouchables just to name a few. To read the entire list is to exhaust one's mind. 

The fiction is without antagonists, in the true sense. Even the protagonists do not emerge until towards the end. To write a novel without either is an interestingly novel idea.  Ultimately, it remained more of a historical but episodic account than a fiction.

The book contains too many characters and issues. The translation is done well. The author however, has used 'One day....' at the start of many paragraphs. It is like, 'Once there was a... ', making it read more like a fairytale than a literary work.

I continued to read the book for two reasons, Bengal is where I grew up. It holds a special place in my mind. I love her intellectually. It presented to me that slice of society which I knew and like to relive whenever I can even remotely by reading about it. Second, I wanted to know and read more about Rabindranath Thakur's life. He holds a very special place in my mind too. I wasn't disappointed on both those counts. For a time, I reveled in nostalgia.

Today, as was then, Bengal is a sophisticated and enlightened hub of stage acting. In my young days, I had fantasized about being a thespian. My hope was soon dashed by my father.
He vehemently refused. Now I know why. Most of the female actresses, in those days, were either untouchables or prostitutes. It was a lowly profession. And, I was born high class Brahmin!

Thinking back, not withstanding that acting was a lowly profession, it was indeed a laughable aspiration for me. I would not have made a success of it. I once fainted on stage reciting Thakur's poem-I suffered stage fright.


Charu
01202018




Friday, January 19, 2018

Carafe



After imbibing the entire content a decanter began to appear as such.......



P.S. Gandhis are, at times, prone to exaggerations....💃💃💃


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Monday, November 27, 2017

Turtles Can Fly






A friend recommended I watch this movie. I did. 

A sad and poignant film is set against the backdrop of savagery and aftermath of war; a camp situated somewhere near Iraq-Turkey border populated only by very young children and old codgers. One wonders where have all the adult men and women gone. One then deduces, they are either fighting the war or dead fighting the war. Most likely, dead; thus making the boys orphans.

When all else has already failed one must be inventive in order to survive. That young genius is the hero, Satellite. He is so known for he buys and installs satellites to this remote camp site where old men want to watch news and  know when Americans are coming to rescue them. Satellite has learnt few workable English words and behaves like a lord of the camp. 

He has an army of boys. He pays them few Dinars to collect unexploded land-mines to sell them to arms dealers for the purchase of guns and shells to defend themselves.

Satellite is attracted to Agrin. She, her brother and perhaps her young son seem not to be the part of this camp, meaning they seem to be ostracized. They do not participate in mine gathering activities. Nor do they get paid. They are poor; they are hungry. Her brother has lost both of his arms, assumably in bombardment or by un-exploded land-mines. The young child whom Agrin calls 'bastard' is an enormous burden for her especially, when she has lost all faith in life and living. 

A  2004 Iran-Iraq collaborative movie directed by well established director Bahman Ghobadi is sad and moving. The girl has done a marvelous job of projecting disinterest in life only through facial expressions. She hardly speaks. The armless boy has done fine job of showing helplessness in helping the sister or the situation. 

There are few unanswered questions in my head. Except for Agrin I did not see a female character. Why? Whose child is that little boy? Why does she call him a bastard? Since none of the actors are professionals, because I believe they were picked at random,  I expected a seasoned director to handle child acting better, specifically Satellite's. He was very loud and screaming out the orders all the time. What was the need for that? 

But if one is in mood for a serious cry, I recommend this film.









  

Sunday, November 26, 2017

Tuesday, November 21, 2017

My Poet


Tagore....


ও রবি, 
তুমি আমার অন্তরের à¦•বি I 

                   -চারু 


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Monday, November 20, 2017

Texturing


I am experimenting with new textures and strokes in my work....


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Sunday, October 15, 2017

Mother+6


On the anniversary eve of my Mother's passing, a small tribute......


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