When We Cease to Understand the World by Benjamin Labatut

 For a review of When We Cease to Understand the World by Benjamin Labatut please head over to the Good Reads page of this blog.  

Wendy Doniger's The Hindus: An Alternative History

Writing this review, makes me feel how David might have felt facing Goliath.  How can one, a layman, have the gumption to take on a world renowned scholar, an accepted expert of her field.  But then, perhaps like David, I know I am right, so here goes (by the way I am also tickled by the interesting reversal of appropriation of religious narratives here).

Banning a book is great for business, for there is always a perverse thrill in indulging in proscribed activities.  So when Anjali suggested we read Wendy Doniger's The Hindus: An Alternative History which was just off the banned list of books, my fellow book club members and I jumped at the opportunity, after all what could be so objectionable in a book on Hinduism.

We were ambitious and decided that it would be one of our summer readings, when the club takes a two month break.  When we met after our sojourn, we discovered that we had all been a tad bit errant and not tackled the mighty tome.  Realising that reading the mammoth book in one go was setting ourselves for failure, we decided that we would read a chapter from  The Hindus: An Alternative History alongside the novel of the month to ensure we completed the book.  As a result, we finished the book in a little more than two and a half years.  

At first, the book seemed fabulous, confirming what we have always known about Hinduism: the way it incorporated any new threat into the fold and the way it allowed each person to choose their own path to salvation.  Of course, every step of the way, Doniger did not shy away from showing how casteism and the patriarchy marginalised so many voices, which we all agreed was a huge failing of Hinduism.  Thus, for the first year of our readings of Doniger we wondered why there was such a hullabaloo about her book.

Then we reached chapter fifteen of the book where Doniger states that the "Orissan temples…may have escaped because they were too remote to attract Muslim attention" (Doniger, pg 443) which made me pause, for I vividly remember the cut off arms and defaced visages of the statues at the sun temple at Konarak.  How then did Doniger contend that these temples evaded any destruction.  

In Chapter sixteen, Doniger makes even more sweeping generalisations displaying a superficial and cavalier handling of history ignoring the complexities that make India.  She contends that with the Delhi Sultanate and the Mughal Empire India finally had "two moments when there are serious contenders for a centre" (Doniger, pg 446).  Evidently, this renowned Indologist is oblivious to the fact that at both such moments there were various strongholds in the subcontinent, most notably of course the Vijayanagara Empire.  It was here that I began to realise that Doniger does not have a nuanced understanding of Indian history and instead adheres to the myopic Delhi-centric view that has plagued historians of yore.  Guilty of the same, she claims that the Turks introduced polo into India (Doniger, pg 453), when the Manipuris had already been playing the game for centuries before.  She then goes on to claim that "Throughout India, Hindu dynasties responded to the entrance of Islam not only by building forts and massing horsemen but by asserting their power through extravagant architecture, most spectacularly at Hampi, Halebid and Badami" (Doniger, pg 468).  This assertion is a gross oversimplification of the complexities of royal architectural projects in India.  Furthermore, I would like to know what Muslim threat were the Chalukyas of the 5th-8th centuries responding to? 

Doniger's Orientalist perspective comes into sharp focus when talking about Indian architecture.  She writes:  "The mosque, whose serene calligraphic and geometric decoration contrasts with the perpetual motion of the figures depicted on the temple, makes a stand against what the early Muslim architects regarded as the chaos of India, creating enforced vacuums that India cannot rush into with all its animals and peoples and colours, and at the same time, providing a flattering frame to offset that very chaos" (Doniger, pg 469).  Firstly, has Doniger not seen the seen some of the most curvilinear, floral designs on these mosques which are themselves so full of motion.  Secondly, most of the craftsmen of these mosques were Indian and the so-called chaos of India was the norm for them.  Then again, this Indian chaos that Doniger sees as a profusion of animals, peoples and colours while foreign to Europeans and Americans, to Muslims of Central Asia and the Middle East would not have been so out of place.

Chapter nineteen is when I found the ultimate proof of Doniger's shoddy scholarship. She begins by glossing over Humayun's blinding of his brother by casting aspersions on Humayun's spirituality (Doniger, pg 531), not acknowledging the fact that Humayun resorted to this act only after a series of betrayals; blinding his brother was the action of a monarch!  She then comments on how Akbar after leaving Fatehpur Sikri moved his capital to Delhi (Doniger, pg 532)—when in fact he actually moved to Lahore.  The final nail in the coffin was when Doniger on page 536 writes that when Shah Jahan "built the great Jami masjid, the Friday mosque, in Delhi he included a rather miscellaneous arcade made of disparate columns from twenty-seven demolished Hindu temples. Despite the alleged aniconic nature of Islam, the pillars are still graced with figures, some of Hindu gods, a few of them still with their heads on."  Having visited the Jama Masjid many a time, I knew for sure that there were no such pillars in the Jama Masjid.  So what was Doniger referring to?  Could it be the Qutub Mosque at Mehrauli?  I then carefully reread Doniger's text and noted an endnote number. I quickly referred to the endnote number 44 and saw that she was referencing page 87 of Partha Mitter's Indian Art.  I immediately checked out the said page (very easily done since I had his book at home) to find that yes Mitter does state that columns from 27 demolished Hindu temples were used in the mosque—the Jami Masjid of Qutub ud Din Aibak: the Quwwat ul-Islam mosque at the Qutub complex, not Shah Jahan's Jama Masjid!  This is an error that no Indologist would make—so how does Doniger get away with it all?

After this chapter, my friends and I found ourselves losing interest in the book and having to force ourselves to trudge through it. The smarter ones of the group  just chucked the book out all together.  As a group, we now realised that we could not trust anything Doniger had to say, even about Ancient India.

So I wondered how could she have made such grave errors, which is when I chanced upon the lecture she delivered for the Charles Homer Haskins Prize in 2015 where she provided a brief of her various learning experiences (the video of the lecture is available on youtube).  Life at university for Doniger was quite an unstructured affair with minimal supervision.  She began as a student of Sanskrit at Radcliffe, followed by life as a graduate student at Harvard where she had no qualifying exams for her Phd.  Her year in India was spent travelling around the country instead of studying Sanskrit.  Given her huge mix-up regarding the Jama Masjid in Delhi referred to above, I do wonder about the nature of her travel.  Her Oxford DPhil was virtually unsupervised, as she would only meet up with her supervisor once a year, which I heard straight from the horse's mouth (if you have read Doniger's book, you will understand what an apt metaphor this is). I guess Doniger's academic laxity at university has resulted in this slipshod approach to scholarship as evident in her not paying careful heed to sources and misquoting from them, in her making broad sweeping generalisations and in being caught in a time warp when it comes to looking at Indian arts.  It probably also explains why when she discusses Hinduism during the Raj her primary reference is Kipling!!!

While writing this critique I stumbled upon Invading the Sacred: An Analysis of Hinduism studies in America edited by Krishnan Ramaswamy which had many criticisms of Doniger.  Chapter seven of the book was particularly revealing as it showed that Doniger's knowledge and understanding of Sanskrit are flawed resulting in incorrect translations—and this was pointed out in detail from findings by Professor Michael Witzel of Harvard University.  

Mistranslations, misquotes, misunderstandings…clearly The Hindus: An Alternative History is a rather questionable book, which at best misinforms and at worst is calculated to mislead.  What is really sad is that most people would consider this volume the definitive work on Hinduism, when it is anything but. 

Apeirogon by Colum McCann

Apeirogon is at its heart a very intelligently crafted novel, which is also so very well written. Reading the book, I found myself alternating between feelings of despair in the sections which deal with  the tragic senseless deaths of the two daughters: Abir and Smadar and those of admiration for the elegance of McCann's writing and the seemingly random but yet so interesting facts he weaves into his narrative.  

On the surface, McCann's novel seems an attempt to present the complexities of the Israel-Palestine issue, while suggesting dialogue as the way out.

However, when chancing upon Susan Abulhawa's critique of the novel (click here to see Abulhawa's review), I realised that perhaps there is more to the book than meets the eye.  Is this indeed a book propelled by pro-Israeli forces?  Are the references to Steven Spielberg in the latter half of the book a result of a film deal between the writer and publisher? What to make of McCann's judicious selection of facts?  Needless to say questions like this brought to mind the age old question of who gets to tell the stories? Is it not possible for an outsider to present an authentic narrative? And what about freedom of expression?

So then, how does one approach a book like Apeirogon, which is so very well written and yet problematic. I guess, as a responsible reader one needs to be mindful of the writer's perspective so as to have a nuanced reading and yet let oneself be free to be transported by the words.

Recommended for when you want a well crafted novel.

The Jaipur Literature Festival 2021

Being the JLF junkie that I am, it was quite obvious that I was not going to miss the fest this year albeit in its virtual avatar.  I cleared my schedule ahead of time for the ten day extravaganza and studied the schedule carefully to strategise which events to attend.  Finally after a long wait, Friday, 19th February arrived and for all practical purposes I disappeared from the home front.  

Day one, in typical JLF style, highlighted the intersection of art and science, what normally are seen as opposed disciplines actually have a lot in common.  Blyth and Blatchford in the inaugural session pointed out the importance of imagination and creativity for both artists and scientists.  In fact, the very depiction of the universe, the way we imagine it has been shaped by the work of artists.  In a similar vein, Carlo Rovelli in the following talk explained how Nagarjuna's notions of interdependence gives us a way of looking at Quantum mechanics!

What draws me to JLF year after year is that it introduces me to writers and books that I normally would not consider.  Books that I really want to read after attending the session this year are Kishwar Desai's biography of Devika Rani based on a careful study of primary sources titled The Longest Kiss.  Another volume I want to read is Mehr Farooqi's Ghalib: A Wilderness at my Doorstep for a nuanced presentation of this most famous poet's life.  The session with S. Hareesh and Jayasree Kalathil on The Year of the Moustache convinced me that there was depth to the book Moustache and I must read it, as it was not the typical award circuit book.  What impressed me most was S. Hareesh's statement that writing a story is a fundamental part of democracy and therefore novels should be a safe space, an assumption that is so often brought into question in today's intolerant world.  Colum McCann's talk on his novel Apeirogon—based on a friendship between a Palestinian father and an Israeli father, both of whom lost their daughters in the senseless violence that afflicts the region—intrigued not just me but my friends too and so now it is our Book Club read for the month of April.  Rodaan Al-Galidi in his talk shed light on the twilight zone that refugees awaiting legalisation exist in for years on end, the subject of his book Two Blankets and Three Sheets.  In contrast, Doireann Ni Ghirofa drew one's attention to Eibhlín Dubh Ní Chonaill’s keen: Caoineadh Airt Uí Laoghaire, again reiterating how little one is aware of literary traditions around the world.  Ben MacIntyre, a JLF regular, is such fun to listen to, his sessions all the more fascinating for the true life spy stories he shares with us.  This time I was kicked to have my question asked to the author (by the end of the festival some q/a sessions were being enabled) all about Killing Eve and its inspiration.  

Now more than any other this is really the time for history lovers, as such diverse approaches to the subject are emerging.  One of these is Yashaswini Chandra's The Tale of the Horse: A History of India on Horseback.  Julia Lovell's Maoism a Global History does what no one has done in one volume, to look at Maoism in its various forms across the globe.  Priya Atwal presents a refreshing perspective on Ranjit Singh's Durbar.  Camilla Townsend's talk about her Cundhill History prize winning work Fifth Sun: A New History of the Aztecs made me realise how much I have to learn and explore—-the dilemma of every bookworm: so much to read and such little time.  A fan of Richard Eaton ever since I read his Sufis of Bijapur while in college, presented his latest book India in the Persianate Age, which relooks at the so called Hindu-Muslim clash of the medieval world which he attributes to the colonial construction of Indian history.  

While the session by Mehreen Chida Rizvi on Jahangir's paintings was pleasing to the eye, there was nothing new that was being presented—if you've read Ebba Koch you know what Rizvi has to say!

Though I am not much of a poetry reader by the end of the festival I was really inspired to explore some.  In particular, I can't wait to read Rupert Snell's translations of Bihari Satsai especially after he explained how rich and difficult these poems are to translate.  Mahmood Farooqi talking about his uncle the later SR Faruqi not only reminded me that I needed to read the latter's Mirror of Beauty but also had me wanting to read his translations of Mir.  The dohas of Abdur Rahim are also another work I want to explore, especially since I have been driving past his tomb ever since I can remember.

Apart from providing leads on what to read next, JLF has always been a place of learning for me.  While the session with Amita Baig and Tripurdaman Singh on The Taj Mahal highlighted the dilemmas that the city of Agra has faced because of the presence of theTaj, such as the shifting of traditional industries, which are often glossed over.  On the other hand, with Meelis Friedenthal one gained a glimpse of Estonia of yore where the upper class members of society were not Estonians.  The sessions by Kevin Barry and Mark Haddon were interesting but the highlight was the one with Colm Toibin for one truly felt in the presence of a literary master.

It was while attending the session on Phoolsunghi that the limitations of the online version of the festival really hit me—the absence of a q/a session with the speakers, especially since I had been waiting to ask Choubey a question regarding the novel.  

Also, the festival literally proved that money talks, for while each session was carefully monitored to ensure that time frames were not overshot, Bill Gates was allowed to speak at length, cutting into the following session. 

So at the end of the experience, which do I prefer….the physical JLF or the online one?  That is a tough choice.  While the virtual festival saved me a lot of time and money as no travel was involved and I no longer had a hassle of finding a seat at the venue; the in person experience of interacting with authors or browsing in the bookstore (though there was a virtual bookstore) was missing.  Moreover, the sessions were a bit shorter and most did not have a q/a which one did miss.  Given a choice next year what would I do, probably attend the virtual session for its convenience as I have attended the festival a number of times in person and am now after a year of Covid quite attuned to the virtual world.  

Ladakh a Wanderer's Spectacle by Nabarun Bhattacharya

The present pandemic has rendered most of us armchair travellers, attempting to slake our wanderlust by poring through a variety of travelogues.  I chanced upon this particular book in the library and am so glad I picked it up for it's not the traditional coffee table book. Yes, it does have gorgeous drool-worthy pictures of Ladakh which does make one feel all the more terrible to be stuck here in the dreary plains.  More than the pictures I found myself pulled in by the writer's account of a faith-healer's session.  At the end of the book I was swept by the realisation of how brutally frank the author has been about himself. It was with a heavy heart that I put the book down knowing that there would be no more, for Bhattacharya died before he could complete this book at the age of forty-seven.  I am so glad that the Niyogi Books decided to publish this book posthumously for it is a most worthy addition to the existing literature on Ladakh.

Firefly Lane by Kristin Hannah

 For a review of Kristin Hannah's Firefly Lane head over to the Overrated Page of this blog.  

JLF 2021--Two days to go!!!

Just two days to go for this year's edition of the JLF.  Needless, to say Covid has done what nothing else could—make JLF go online.  In all fairness, JLF was quick to adapt to the new normal and had started streaming live sessions with writers under the JLF Brave New World series from April 2020, providing all of us in lockdown times something to look forward to.  Continuing with the online model, from Friday one will see the JLF in its new avatar—online over ten days…instead of the usual six!  I am definitely looking forward to the fest. However, before lauding JLF for being so cautious regarding Covid and therefore taking the festival online, do bear in mind, JLF conducted a private 2 day in person festival at Mehrauli, not very responsible I would say!  Then again, given the state of the Indian public who is behaving as if there is either no Covid or they are immune to Covid, how can I expect anything else from JLF which has such a desi soul!!!  Now in case you are feeling sore at having missed some of the sessions, fear not…they are all part of the 10 day online extravaganza.

 

January 2021

 A new year, new resolutions, new books to read.  This past month I read three books, each one was enjoyable for different reasons.  Here are the books I read:

Sudden Death by Alvaro Enrigue

It is one thing to present a possibility of what might have happened…but as a reader what do you do with a book that presents events involving historical characters that could never have happened…and yet manage to present a very plausible reason as to why things are the way they are?  In the case of Sudden Death, Quevedo and Caravaggio could never have met; and yet the outcome of a tennis match between the two explains the former's prejudices so well. And also, what do you do with a book that poses many a  question such as what did happen to Anne Boleyn's hair?  But more importantly what is the book trying to convey?  In the words of Enrigue, when he wrote the book he was angry because the "bad guys always win"; elsewhere he commented, "a whole host of people can manage to understand absolutely nothing, act in an impulsive and idiotic way, and still drastically change the course of history".  Enrigue seems to suggest that the world as we know it is the result of totally unplanned, random juxtapositions/confluences/meetings changing not just the lives of people but maps and canvases and objects of the world?  Despite all these questions, this novel was a wonderful, exhilarating, refreshing read; it is always so exciting to see how the form of the novel can be experimented and tweaked with.  After all how often does one come across a novel featuring Anne Boleyn's hair, tennis, the Conquest of Mexico by Cortes, the Counter-Reformation, Caravaggio and the Spanish poet Quevedo?

Bhairavi by Shivani

Bhairavi: The Runaway by Shivani, translated from the Hindi by Priyanka Sarkar

Shivani is a writer one has heard a lot about but been too afraid to pick up as her books are in Hindi.  When I heard about Bhairavi now having an English translation, I leapt at the chance to finally read one of her books.  Not being pressed for time, I decided to challenge myself and read the Hindi original simultaneously with the English translation.  Lo and behold, this exercise finally made clear to me my friend's reservations about reading a translation, for Sarkar's translation of Bhairavi is a clumsy one which fails to do justice to the rich evocative language of the original.  Initially I thought that perhaps Sarkar was a writer who was not too comfortable with the English language, but then I read her preface to the novel and realised that was not the case.  More galling is how she positions information differently in the translation from the original—most evident being the very first paragraph of the book (spoiler alert: the original just mentions a woman in pain while the translation mentions that the same woman was an accident victim—thus, reducing the mystery of the woman in the translation).  Even more mystifying was the fact that Shivani's daughters Ira and Mrinal have given her access to Shivani's papers and have endorsed this translated volume.  The act of translation is an art that not everyone has mastered, clearly not Sarkar, which is such a pity as Bhairavi deserves so much better.

As for the original novel itself, while many of the Hindi words were unfamiliar to me,  I found myself slowly lost in the sounds of the poetic language, rich descriptions which created vivid images in my mind.  Initially, I was slowly making my way through the novel but towards the end I was in a tearing rush to find out how things would work out, or not.  On reaching the end, I found myself very, very angry; not with the book but with the reality of Indian society that Shivani presents one with—men unable to control their lust and the women who pay the price for that, while the men carry on with their lives as if nothing had happened!  Apart from the plot, Bhairavi provides a window into Kumaoni culture and life in an ashram of Aghori yogis.  While one may like to think that this is a dated perspective of Indian society (1978), deep down not much has changed unfortunately.

Romancing Mr Bridgerton by Julia Quinn

Dear Reader, I have a confession to make: I too have succumbed to the Bridgerton mania courtesy Shonda's latest venture.  Season one of Bridgerton, left me wanting to know more and so I had to pick up the fourth in the Bridgerton series, Romancing Mr Bridgerton as I wanted to know how Penelope and Lady Whistledown's column would unfold.  Being a Regency romance, this was a quick read and reminded me why I read so many of them in my youth…an easy read featuring some gorgeous men…a most soothing balm in frayed times. Intellectuals may frown on my reading tastes, but frankly I do believe that every type of book serves a purpose and this did prove most delightfully entertaining!