Dalrymple on 1857: the Religious Component

William Dalrymple, a British travel writer and scholar of Indian history, sometimes gets himself into hot water with Indian critics. He was attacked by Farrukh Dhondy a couple of years ago for criticizing V.S. Naipaul’s pro-communalist comments, and then more recently by Pankaj Mishra for lamenting the state of non-fiction writing in and about India. But whatever you think of his role in these arguments, Dalrymple as a historian is the real deal: his book Delhi: City of Djinns is an amazing historical travel narrative, which blends Dalrymple’s experiences in modern Delhi with a great deal of careful research into Delhi’s formidable past.

kashmiri_gate_1857_20060703.jpg The current issue of Outlook India has a nice essay by Dalrymple on the Indian Mutiny/Rebellion of 1857 (thanks, Indianoguy!). The essay is really in three parts: one is a fresh look at the fall of Bahadur Shah Zafar, the “last Mughal” — whose sons were all executed (murdered) by the British after the Rebellion. The second part is a discussion of “Mutiny papers” in the National Archives of India that Mahmoud Farooqi has been translating from Urdu. These documents show the Indian perspective on the events of 1857, where one finds, among other things, that the rebels were motivated by religious rage to a very great extent. Finally, there is a discussion of contemporary Delhi — in which preserving the emblems of this past is of very little interest to most people. Continue reading

More Vicarious Traveling: “The Lost Temples of India”

Someone posted a Learning Channel documentary called “The Lost Temples of India” on Google Video. (From News; thanks Rasudha!) Click “play” above or see the larger version at Google.

It exploits many of of the annoying clichés you would expect, including repeated references to elephants and a near obsession with the phallic symbolism of the Shivalingam.

“Lost Temples” also plays a bit of a geographic and historical trick on viewers, by starting and ending with the erotic temples at Khajuraho (which it insists are “lost,” “forgotten,” and “shrouded with secrecy”), and shots of the Taj Mahal. But in between it is actually mainly about the South: the temples built by Rajaraja Chola, the city/kingdom of Vijayanagar, and the Meenakshi Temple at Madurai. The attempt to link the Hindu temples of Southern India with Khajuraho is nonsensical, but I suppose the producers felt they had to sex it up a bit (elephants alone = too academic).

Despite its many flaws, it must be said that the cinematography in “The Lost Temples of India” is quite good — there are some beautiful shots of the temples in question. And there are actually a couple of facts in the documentary, though they’re carefully hidden (“shrouded”) by the steaming Orientalist cheesefest. Continue reading

Traditional Indian Architecture: Vicarious Traveling via Flickr

While browsing the deeply-discounted “remaindered” aisles at my local Barnes & Noble, I came across Satish Grover’s Masterpieces of Traditional Architecture. It’s a coffee-table book with beautiful photographs and appreciative descriptions of fourteen of India’s ancient and medieval architectural masterpieces.

In his introduction, Grover points out that the ancient sites in India are all religious (Buddhist, Hindu, Jain, Muslim), not because India was traditionally especially devout. In fact, only the religious structures were carved in stone, so they are the only edifices to survive. The secular architecture of ancient India might have been pretty wonderful too, but those brick and timber buildings have all vanished.

Since I can’t do any real traveling this summer because of work, I thought I would link to images on the web of the various monuments in Grover’s book as a kind of vicarious travelogue. A lot of people have tagged these sites in their Flickr photos, though for slightly more obscure places like the Karle Caves you have to search on the open internet to see what comes up. Continue reading

Is it Possible to Justify Corruption in Some Cases?

I’m always curious to see how people justify or explain official corruption. How do some societies end up corrupt while others are “clean”? I don’t believe for a moment that it’s some kind of inbuilt genetic (sorry Razib) or cultural thing, nor does religion have anything to do with it (sorry, Max Weber). Also, how much damage does small-scale corruption really do? Slate has an article by Joel Waldfogel summarizing a recent study that was done with 800 people who needed drivers’ licenses in Delhi. Right off the bat, Waldfogel gives us a possible advantage to corruption while waiting in line:

The Department of Motor Vehicles, here and in many foreign countries, is a place of long lines, sour bureaucrats. . ., and bleak interior decorating. By the time you get to the front of the photo line, you need to shave again. Since access to government clerks is normally allocated on a first-come, first-served basis, people pay with their time rather than their money. This is inefficient: Suppose you’re in a big hurry and would be willing to pay a lot to avoid waiting, while I don’t mind waiting. Then you could go ahead of me, making you a lot better off and me only a little worse off, which reduces our collective frustration. One way to achieve this efficiency would be to charge a higher price for expedited service. Yet, an expedited government service option typically does not exist. So, in some countries, the offer of a bribe in exchange for quicker processing is a common form of corruption—reducing the social cost of waiting in line. (link)

There are some real advantages in that, just as there are to the “Lexus Lanes” many American cities are thinking of introducing on highways to give drivers the option to get out of traffic jams on the regular highway if they’re willing to pay to be on a specially constructed, parallel toll lane. What if you really need to be somewhere, and you’re willing to spend $10 to get there? Continue reading

‘Temple Cleansing’ in Malaysia and Pakistan

A Indian blogger in Malaysia named Sharanya Manivannan recently posted an open letter to Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, asking him to take a stand on the Hindu temple demolitions that have been occurring in the country:

But I ask you this: when temples that stood for over a century are destroyed, what really dies? Not stone and statues. Not bells and prayers. Not — thankfully and thus far — people. You see, what frightens me is not the loss of these temples themselves, though architecturally speaking, that too is often a disappointment. What frightens me is what these temples are taken to represent, and by extension, what their demolitions therefore represent. (link)

[Note: if the link doesn’t work, try going to Sharanya’s blog]

Elsewhere in the letter she points out that the Indian government did send a letter of “official displeasure” to the Danish government following the publication of the anti-Islamic cartoons. Why the silence so far on the “temple cleansing” in Malaysia? She also makes some poignant comments about how Indians are treated as a whole in Malaysia, which I’ll quote below the fold.

Some background: In the past few months, Malaysian authorities have demolished a number of Hindu temples in different parts of the country, stating that they were built without a proper permit. But local Hindus have complained that they had applied for permits, sometimes waiting as long as 30 years for a response! Moreover, according to the BBC, at least two of the temples destroyed were more than a century old, which clearly suggests that getting a permit to build is not at all the issue driving the demolitions. Indeed, it seems pretty clear that these demolitions are part of an organized campaign in a country that is growing increasingly intolerant of religious minorities. (Churches and other religious structures have also been demolished along the same lines.)

Indians make up about 8% of the settled population of Malaysia, which amounts to about 2 million people, and the majority are Hindus. For the most part they have lived in Malaysia in peace (communal violence is very rare), but Indian Malaysians do often complain of discrimination and mistreatment. They have traditionally been a working class population, who came to Malaysia initially to work on rubber plantations. Continue reading

Humpty Dumpty is an Evil Imperialist

humpty dumpty.jpg No, not Dubya — actually the real Humpty Dumpty, who has been banned from government schools in the state of Madhya Pradesh. According to the BBC:

The Madhya Pradesh government has banned the teaching of English nursery rhymes in primary schools to “reduce Western influence” on children.

Indian rhymes will now replace their popular English counterparts.

“There is no need for English rhymes when there are Indian rhymes to infuse patriotism in children,” says state education minister Narrotam Mishra.

He has asked government primary schools from now on to teach Indian rhymes and tales from the life of Ahilya Bai, the legendary ruler credited with building a number of leading temples in India. (link)

Because obviously, Humpty Dumpty is the Trojan Horse of cultural imperialism. Just think of the infamous lines: “All the king’s horses/ and all the king’s men/ couldn’t put Humpty together again.” They seem to suggest the monarchy is incompetent — making the seemingly innocent nursery rhyme into subversive Leftist agit-prop that criticizes the government.

Incidentally, I wonder why Education Minister Narrotam Mishra didn’t cite the fact that Mr. Dumpty is an egg in his decision to ban the him from schools in MP. Isn’t an egg a feminine entity, and isn’t Humpty Dumpty therefore a female in drag — and consequently in probable violation of sections 294 and 377 of the Indian Penal Code?

(Just kidding, yaar. Still, anyone interested in translating ‘Humpty Dumpty’ into Hindi or other South Asian languages for us? Or even in English: can we desi-fy him so perhaps Mr. Mishra might consider reinstating him? If we get some good ones, I will email them to the MP government. (Hint: Start with “Hum pati / dum pati”) Continue reading

Cricket v. Soccer, Intellectuals, and the Male Physique

Dhoni.jpg There was a funny but true quote from a woman interviewed for this article (thanks, Technophobicgeek) on World Cup mania in India:

A young woman sold on soccer pointed out: “I like soccer because the men playing the sport are strong, fit, aggressive and much better-looking. Cricketers on the other hand are softies in comparison, and it is quite incomprehensible how 10 people can just stand and watch while one bowls and the other bats,” she argued.

In her view, the only exception is Dhoni, who combines strength with sensitive looks and style, the ultimate Beckhamesque combination. She said Dhoni started off being a soccer player, in any case. (link)

My significant other, who is very knowledgeable on these matters, agrees on the question of the appeal of cricketers vs. soccer players. (The question of which sport is better may be a different matter, of course.) The article also mentions the predicted 150 million (cumulative) Indian viewers for the games, which will be broadcast in Hindi all over the country, bringing in scads of advertising revenue. And incidentally, the “Dhoni” the interviewee mentions is Mahindra Singh Dhoni, and he’s the most eligible batchelor in Jharkand, apparently (also, pictured right). A bit Beckhamesque, is he not?

There’s a similar comment (minus the cricket) in a Slate piece by Bryan Curtis where he explains why intellectual American men seem to be drawn to soccer. Part of it is that they’re (ok we’re) “internationalist” coffee-drinking, Richard Linklater-worshipping poseurs, of course. But maybe it also has to do with this:

In a weak moment, the soccer intellectual might even admit that the sport’s stars are aspirational male role models. Most soccer players are not human grotesqueries like NFL stars or attenuated beanpoles like NBA players. They’re possessed of attainable physiques, strong and compact—the kind that might impress intellectuals and the women who love them. (link)

Yes, I always prefer my sports to have aspirational role models — and maybe voiceless velar plosives as well. Continue reading

An Inconvenient Triumph (Climate Change in the Subcontinent)

Abhi mentioned the documentary An Inconvenient Truth earlier this week. I just saw it, and I think it’s beautifully done as well — I would strongly recommend it. Even if you don’t think much of Al Gore as a politician, the science is convincing and all the pictures of vanishing glaciers and dried-up inland lakes (Lake Chad!; the Aral Sea!) are terrifying.

In the film, Gore refers several times to the potential catastrophic consequences of Global Warming in the Indian subcontinent. It’s somewhat ironic, because countries on the Indian subcontinent are far smaller contributors of greenhouse gases than the developed countries (India’s per capita emissions are one sixth the world average) but you can be sure that the subcontinent will feel its effects. As I understand it, there are two major consequences of global warming for the Indian subcontinent that are essentially guarantees, and a third which seems to me to be a maybe: Continue reading

Where Is The Love? Ziauddin Sardar v. Rushdie

Ziauddin Sardar, a prolific left-leaning political writer based in London, has been going after Salman Rushdie lately, calling him a “brown sahib” — the postcolonial equivalent of an Uncle Tom. I find Sardar’s attacks upsetting (I side with Rushdie here, as I’ll explain below), but more generally I am so over this habit of brown intellectuals tearing each other to shreds on the question of their loyalty to the “cause.” Just because someone disagrees with you, it doesn’t mean they are a traitor or a coconut, needing to be “flushed,” as a certain desi blogger is fond of saying. There’s something pathological and deeply self-destructive about the way minority writers do this to each other, and I wish it would stop.

The current feud is a bit of a convoluted story, starting most recently with Sardar’s review of a book on Islam/terrorism by Anthony McRoy called From Rushdie to 7/7: The Radicalisation of Islam in Britain. It looks like your basic, “Watch out, Muslims in Britain have become very radicalized!” type book.

In the review, Sardar says some harsh things about McRoy’s book that might or might not be accurate, as he tends to argue more from insinuation than evidence. I don’t know, as I haven’t read McRoy’s book. But he says this about Rushdie:

For example, he suggests I labelled Rushdie as a “brown sahib” because I feared that the new generation of Muslims would become “contaminated” with “infidel ideas”. This is laughably absurd. The “brown sahib” is a recognisable sociological type on the Subcontinent: an uncritical Anglophile. My point was that Muslims should not be surprised by what Rushdie had done. A brown sahib, somewhere, sometime, was bound to do just that. (link)

Now when this story broke last week, I searched the papers looking for what Sardar had originally said about Rushdie, and why. I couldn’t find it — it could either have been Rushdie’s approving noises on the War in Iraq, or the act of writing The Satanic Verses itself. (But do you ever need substantial justification to call someone a race traitor? No — you just do it, and you expect it will stick.) Continue reading

Welcome Back, Kajol (A Brief Review of “Fanaa”)

Since I can’t top Greatbong’s review of Fanaa, let me just offer three thoughts and a comic ghazal.

kajol-in-fanaa.jpg First, I missed Kajol, and I’m glad she’s back. She sure beats Preity Zinta.

After the exciting snowmobile chase through the mountains of Kashmir (filmed in Poland, of course), I thought Kajol was the best thing in Fanaa. She was certainly more interesting to watch than Aamir Khan, who was just phoning it in most of the time. (He also looked pallid in the close-ups. Everything all right, Aamir? Hope you’re staying off the white stuff; you don’t want to go out like Fardeen)

Second thought: Most big-ticket Hindi films use foreign locations as a visual gimmick. They give you landscapes and cityscapes that simply don’t exist in India, so you aren’t stuck looking at the same old smoggy skylines. (Some popular spots in recent films have been Thailand, Australia, and Mauritius.)

For its part, the special locale in Fanaa is… the city of Delhi! The first half of the movie is largely shot around the Red Fort, Jantar Mantar, Qutub Minar, Purana Qila, and Lodhi Gardens (and yes, I stole that list from Wikipedia). Delhi’s attractions actually looked pretty nice.

The domestic setting means there are no item numbers in Fanaa with scores of scantily clad white women gyrating on a beach. (I hope that means you’re more likely to go see the movie.)

Third thought: our tickets cost $10 each. I hope that goes some of the way to countering the ridiculous ban on the film in Gujurat. (Naachgaana reports that one theater in the state is now showing the film after the Supreme Court ruled the state must provide police protection to the theater.) Continue reading