Wednesday, April 21, 2010

M.V. Rajadhyaksha (June 7, 1913-19 April 2010)

                                                             A file photo. Photo Credit: Times of India

Mangesh Vitthal Rajadhyaksha was a Marathi writer and critic of repute.
I hadn't heard of him until his name cropped up during one of the conversations on vernacular literature and authors. Mr Rajadhyaksha didn't just write in Marathi though. He wrote in English too and for a large part of his life, he also taught English Literature in colleges in Mumbai, Ahmedabad and Kolhapur.
I know all this through the Internet. What spurred hours of searches in his and Vijaya Rajadhyaksha's (his wife and also winner of Sahitya Akademi award in 1992) name was a small piece of news: they are my boss's parents!
The day I learnt of it, I felt extremely elated. I had goosebumps. First, NRaj is an erudide scholar himself and a great person to work with. And, to have literary stalwarts as parents was a remarkable distinction I couldn't help gushing about. He later told me how he grew up next to the literary giants such as Dharamveer Bharti. I discovered that the place he stays at (Sahitya Sahwas) is the same place where Sachin Tendulkar grew up!
It's said that during his college years, the senior Rajadhyaksha also won the prestigious Wordsworth Prize for the best student in English Literature at Mumbai's Elphistone College. He also served on several prestigious committees, including the National Book Trust and the Jnanpith Trust that gives the Jnanpith Award.
Wikepedia says: ``He was closely involved with Abhiruchi, a Marathi literary journal that was the launching pad for some of the greatest writers in the post-independence era.''
All my life, literature has fascinated me. There is no end to it - it's like the sky, vast and without a border or ceiling to clip wings, scuttle thoughts or bury dreams. The more I know, the punier I feel. And, to discover the Rajadhyakshas felt like a blessing. As if I was in some indirect, remotest sort of way waking up to knowledge I would otherwise have missed.
My deepest condolences to the Rajadhyaksha family.

Here is the Times of India obit on the acclaimed writer:

Eminent critic, essayist and erstwhile professor of English, Mangesh Vitthal Rajadhyaksha, died on Monday at the age of 96 after a brief illness. His essays, collected in seven volumes, brought to Marathi literary criticism a rare perspicacity, candour and impatience with cant. His style was economical, precise and always lined with irony. He also coauthored a seminal history of Marathi literature with Kusumavati Deshpande. Panch Kavi, a selection of the works of five poets who represented the new and modern in poetry at the turn of the 19th century, became a literary classic. His preface to the volume remains one of the most lucidly argued pieces of literary criticism.

Born in Mumbai, he was educated at Chhabildas Boys High School and Elphinstone College where he won the Wordsworth Prize. He taught English at Elphinstone College, Mumbai, Rajaram College, Kolhapur and Gujarat College, Ahmedabad, giving to three generation of students not merely knowledge of texts but a way to look at, understand and love literature. He served for many years on the board of trustees of the National Book Trust and was, for some years, a member of the Jnanpeeth award committee and the committee for Marathi literature of the Sahitya Akademi.

The impact of his critical genius was first felt during the period 1943 to 1953 when he wrote a regular column Vaad-Samvaad in the pioneering literary magazine Abhiruchi, founded and edited by the late P.A and Vimala Chitre. The column commented on literary issues but also extended itself to include related fields like broadcasting, theatre and cinema. His critical target was always the literary object, never the writer as a person.

His going has bereaved the Marathi literary world. He leaves behind his wife, the eminent writer-critic Vijaya Rajadhyaksha, and three children.

Courtesy: TIMES NEWS NETWORK

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Sex and the Mahatma

It's back in the news. Gandhi's sex life may be making rave news again with Jad Adams's biography of the Mahatma Gandhi : Naked Ambition.
Years ago, soon after I passed out of J school, I read Sudhir Kakar's Intimate Relations: Exploring Indian Sexuality where he analysed Gandhi's practice of sleeping naked with his woman disciples and likened it to a internal war against the most primal of human wants. Adams goes a step further in saying Gandhi may just not be celibate after all, however hard he tried to be.
Adams's introductory essay on the book Thrill of the chaste: The truth about Gandhi's sex life does not make me furious with a mission to salvage Gandhi's reputation as mahatma or Father of the Nation. Instead, it makes me cringe at the collective failure of this nation in selecting its role models.
While the jury is still out on the truth behind Gandhi's experiments with celibacy, my worries are related broadly to the idol-worship we engage in as a nation. Any sports person who can hit a ton in a cricket match is a demi-God; any spiritual guru who can deliver sermons on loudspeakers can never f*** women; any actor who can stammer on screen and yet walk away with the most beautiful girl in Timbuktu is infallible!
Gandhi is a different league altogether. He has been accorded the greatest respect ever in this nation. If Adams's story is even half-bit true, it's worrisome.
But my immediate concern is: Is Gandhi: Naked Ambition the next book to be burnt by zealots in this country?

Related:

Gandhi and Sexuality

Gandhi's Private Life

The Naked Mahatma

And, on a completely different note, read this funny piece on the Shoaib-Sania story:

Shoaib Malik: Love, allegations of sex, and dhoka

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Lalitpur - part 1

                                         Naani ka ghar. Lalitpur.

                                                   

Just wanted to share, spurred by today's story on Bundelkhand :

Lalitpur is my mother's home. My maternal grandparents' place.
When I was a kid, I was often teased for my Bihari roots by my cousins who thought just because they were not from my state, they were superior to me culturally and socially.
My maternal uncles own half a dozen stone mines in Lalitpur. The village of Jakhlaun is almost owned by them. One of them has one mine for production of granites. All my childhood, I grew up starstruck by their wealth.

As I matured and looked at the world around me, I realised how backward the area is (it suffers from acute draught situation and flash floods and excessive mining leading to deforestation and ecologial imbalance) and how my mother, despite her rich upbringing, was lucky to have married my father who despite his limited means did not have to be part of an excessively vicious cycle of human greed for a living.

Knowledge is everything. It changes the way I look at the world.

More on Lalitpur. And its burdens. Soon.

So it came back, like a torrent rising from within, not letting her breathe, not letting her live. She thought she could be the sea, the mas...