The Workshop Series That was Different

The Pact

January to March 2012 were very special months for me. My friend Rohini Jakati and I did a series of Communication skills workshops for a group of teachers of Chennai Corporation's schools. These were teachers who were handling English language for classes 6 to 8. And I really mean a series - 12 half a day workshops, all in a row, one every week, for the same group.

I've always enjoyed doing workshops, but what really made these workshops special was the challenge they posed and the way the teachers responded. Rohini and I prepared a broad framework for our workshop series but kept it flexible enough to be dismantled and re-assembled according to the needs of the participants.

Which really turned out to be a wise decision on our part because, looking back, I can see that by the end of the series our framework had really come a long way from where we had first pitched it.

We had decided to keep it open because this was our first experience with teachers from schools for the economically weaker sections. We knew some of their problems - their students were first generation learners and did not have support from home, many of them came from emotionally disturbed backgrounds, and a lot of 'learning' that took place was mechanical and rote. Above everything else, was the teachers' own diffidence - they all came from a Tamil medium background and were just not confident about their own English, though all of them were English teachers.

We knew some of the handicaps these teachers worked with - we had been briefed by the Joint Commissioner Mr. Venkatesh, whose initiative had taken us to the Corporation School, Alwarpet for the workshop series.

But the real picture bloomed out that first day when we stepped into the audio visual lab of the Alwarpet school to find 30 half-anxious faces looking hesitantly at us. I could almost read their minds - who were these two women? Will they treat us with contempt?  what sophisticated theories and impossible ideas will they thrust down our gullets? What would they expect us to do? How can we stick through 12 sessions?

What we carried with us was just our deep desire to connect to them and express solidarity. Our earnest desire to give them what they needed, rather than what we thought they needed.

The key we held was our openness and flexibility and I strongly believe that these made a lot of difference.
We started the series by asking the teachers to tell us their expectations from the series. What would you like to take away from here, we asked. It threw our bunch of 30 into something of a tizzy; some were cynical, but they all got into the spirit of it and finally drew up a laundry list. Now the list which ran into some ten points got us in a bit of a tizzy because we hadn't expected a list as long as this! We realized that we had quite a challenge ahead of us!

We then asked them to define what they would bring to the table if we undertook to try and meet their expectations. That took them aback but with a little prompting, they came up with a list of resolutions which more than matched our expectations!! Their list included points like 'we will cooperate/we will speak in English and not be hurt if we are publicly corrected etc.

And to their credit, most of them adhered to their own rules for most of the 12 days of the workshop. If they had not kept the pact, we really could not have done much.

That first workshop did much more than just tell us what they needed - it was the best ice breaker we could have imagined and it set the tone for the series.

The teachers warmed up pretty fast and learnt the hard way that in order to learn to speak English they would have to speak English.

Unfinished battle waiting at the wings

We are going through depressing times. The newspapers have been full of bad news for ever and aye and there has been no let up. But this one that came in just now threw me into depression like never before:
http://www.thehindu.com/news/national/tamil-nadu/dalit-boy-ilavarasan-found-dead-on-railway-tracks/article4881007.ece?homepage=true

A vanniyar girl marries a dalit boy in a Tamil Nadu town, amidst threats and violence. Her father unable to bear the shame commits suicide. The mother and the community prey on her feelings of guilt as the cause of father's death, succeed in drawing her back to her maternal home. Girl tearfully returns, says she has nothing against her husband or his family and then says she will never go back as her mother is of paramount importance to her. And then the next thing we hear her young husband, in his early twenties, on the threshold of life, is found dead on a train track. Suicide? Murder? No one knows yet. But a wasted life? Yes, most certainly.

What kind of civilisational values do we uphold if a girl amongst us still dare not chart out her own independent course? What kind of parents are these who put their own selfish narrow interests over their daughter's? What kind of society is this that cannot tolerate dissent from any member but must punish them and theirs irrevocably and with a damning finality?

Wasn't there a legal system or a police system that could insist that the young couple could not be pressured by society? After all, they were consenting adults. Could no one offer counselling or even protection to Dhivya against the machinations and manipulations of her mother and family?

Why hasn't any political leader put out a strong anti-caste statement till date? What happened to all those leaders who stood up for Tamils in far away Sri Lanka just two months back? What happened to those others who hop into helicopters, visit flood hit zones to personally assess extent of damage and make the right faces and noises for television cameras?

The Dhivya-Ilavarasan case is an uncomfortable reminder that India shining is actually an ancient civilisation with rundown values teetering on the brink of collapse while trying to keep up the pretense of 'alll eeeeeez well.'

And I still have myself heard and read people saying so often, 'Caste injustice? Now? That was in the past.'
Past? Excuse me. Don't you read the papers? Decades after casteism was abolished by law, we still traumatise couples who choose to marry outside their castes and communities, we make children of discriminated communities sweep their school buildings, clean latrines and carry excrement on their heads. We do not allow other castes enter temples or even walk down public thoroughfares. We do not allow our children to eat noon meals cooked by women from other castes.

In our comfortable middle class homes, we do not share the dinner table with members of 'lower' castes, if we can help it. We do not eat food cooked by other caste people. We do not hire cooks from other castes. When we meet someone new, our first thought inevitably is 'Is he one of 'us?'

Agreed, a few decades cannot entirely wipe out what's a deep-seated, deep-rooted race meme. But surely it is enough time to acknowledge that casteism is not a thing of the past, as we would all like to believe. It exists today, now. It exists all around us, and it also lives inside each one of us, firmly embedded in our hearts and minds. In fact its existence around us has been possible only because we have still given it room within us. The first step would be to shake off the state of denial.

In Silence

There isn't anything new to say about the Living Chola heritage temples at Thanjavur, Gangaikondacholapuram and Darasuram. I've said all I could think of and I've run out of words. So after this second visit to these complexes with my brother's family, I've decided not to even attempt to string together words. I've decided to upload photos instead. They will speak more than words ever can.

Thanjavur

Warning signs

Dhivya [Dharmapuri intercaste marriage case] is for 2013 what Jyoti Pandey [delhi rape case victim] was for the end of 2012. A face of wronged womanhood.

The one declared her independence and walked out of her home only to be dragged back by emotional blackmail. The other who boldly walked out into the world and not only found her every right and freedom outraged, but also found herself ripped apart in a million ugly ways.

How marrying is different from buying cola

I read The Aamir Khan column in The Hindu [http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/columns/article3439626.ece] with mixed feelings. Some of it was plain good sense. But some of it was also dangerously superficial - dangerous because here was a person with tremendous influence specially on youngsters, and what he had to say was so much more trivial than what he left unsaid.

Yes, we can and must do without lavish weddings. We are a poor nation and cannot afford the splash we save all our lives to make on our children's wedding days. We need to take a bold and principled stand against ostentatious weddings. That's as far as wedding ceremonies go.

But marriage is something else. it is a partnership of two individuals - a very intense relationship. This is where I differ from Aamir Khan.

He asks: Who is the girl I'm marrying? Who is the boy I'm planning to spend the rest of my life with? Don't we want to know them as human beings? Understand his or her nature, value system? Are we on the same wavelength? Is there compatibility? Does he or she have a sense of humour? Is this the person with whom I want to spend the rest of my life? Instead of taking ample time to make this very crucial decision, very often, marriages are fixed after just one meeting. “Chalo baat pakki hogayi. Muh meetha karo.”

I agree that getting to know the other is a good idea. But to me, shared interests, same wavelength and sense of humour are not premises on which one can base a relationship. And as for the nature of a person, it reveals itself over time, a long time, and cannot be entirely assessed or even understood even if they spent a whole year in courtship.

And let's not forget that circumstances and experience shapes attitudes. People change. Some progress and others regress. The cheerful girl might turn perpetually cross and the glum boy might become the heart and soul of the party.

By assuming that the temperament or attitude of a person at 25 or 30 is a permanent fixture, one is not allowing any scope for emotional and mental growth of the person.

Aamir exhorts: Think about life ahead, not just that one day. Let's give marriage the importance it deserves — in every sense, financial, emotional, mental. Let's give it our time, emotions and energies to plan those years that lie ahead. Therefore, the key is the person you have chosen as your life partner. That is the only element you should be thinking of and no other. And please take your time over that decision. Understand, probe, check, go deep. The better you do this, the happier life is likely to be. Take the step of marrying only when you are fully satisfied about the character and temperament of the person you are marrying.

Standing on the threshold of life, with two decades of protected and dependent existence behind them, is a young person mentally equipped to understand another's nature and value systems after a few meetings? I am not arguing for arranged marriages. I do not believe that parents are wiser in choosing life partners for their children than their children themselves. I also do not believe that caste, complexion, bank balance and qualification are the criteria for choosing a spouse. But I also do not believe that shared interests, temperament, like-mindedness, good humour and good temperament of the proposed partner are the bedrock on which strong marriages are built, though if your partner has all of this or even some, your way is smooth and the relationship likely to endure. 

Then what is? What can make one's marriage successful?  Aamir says the key is the person you will choose as your life partner. I disagree. I believe that the key to a good marriage is primarily YOU. 

It is the done thing in a consumerist society to ask yourself if the thing you choose for yourself is good and meets all YOUR requirements. The notion that the centre of your world is you and the whole world exists
 to cater to you is paradoxically both an old and a post-modern idea. It dates back to the pre-Christian times of Ptolemy when it was believed that the earth - YOUR HOME- was at the centre of the universe and the sun, moon, stars and planets revolved around it.  Though Galileo and Copernicus paid heavily to prove to the world that the sun and not the earth was at the centre of the universe, and other scientists have subsequently proved that our galaxy is just an invisible  speck in the vastness of the cosmos and there is no reason for the human being to feel special, the old earth-centric worldview has not been wiped out. In a post-modern consumerist society it has only morphed into the even uglier ego-centric worldview.

Today we teach our children to ask, "What's in this for ME?"
Do we ever tell them, to borrow John F. Kennedy's famous words, ask not what others can do for you—ask what you can do for others.

It is not surprising then that even in a relationship that is both intense and intimate, we should be estimating others, finding them worthy or unworthy of us. Do they share our interests? Do they think our thoughts? Are they like us? Will they fit into our lives? 

But who are we to do this? Have we turned this searchlight on ourselves at any time and found if these same qualities of good temperament, compassion, and good humour that we look for in others rest in us. 

A good friend speaking of parenthood recently remarked that it was funny how we qualify, train and equip our youth for jobs, but not for something as momentous and life-changing as marriage and parenthood. Most of us stumble into these states in the course of living. 

Obviously, the very thought of doing a short certificate course in parenthood or marriage seems ludicrous. And that's not what I mean. In an age when fast changing circumstances render role models redundant too bewilderingly soon, people have few models to emulate. So what then is preparedness for marriage? What would pave the way for a good marriage? 

I believe that all young people need is a bit of introspection and reflection. Spend some time with yourself. Face yourself. Be honest with yourself. 
Ask yourself what marriage means to you. 
What do you hope this relationship does for you? 
How important is it to you? 
How much time and energy are you willing to invest to make it enriching for yourself and your companion? 
How much of your identity are you willing to subsume in the common identity that marriage will bind you in? 
How much space are you willing to give up to accommodate another in your life?

Talk to close friends to find out what they think of you. Talk to parents and trusted elders. Understand yourself before you try to understand and evaluate another.

While I am talking from the perspective of a religion-sanctified, socially sanctioned marriage tie, I believe this attitude will help any kind of serious man-woman relationship - be it a legally registered tie, or a live-in relationship. 

Serious relationships cannot but affect the emotions of at least one, if not both the partners. After all, aren't you giving access to another to the deepest recesses of your living being. How can it not affect your mind, emotions and spirit? And therefore there is a responsibility and obligation on all of us to know what and how much one can contribute to the health of the relationship.  

Which brings me back to Aamir Khan's article. The key to good relationships is what you are willing to take to the table. The danger in holding the partner as the key is that it will blind you to your own faults, weaknesses and unpreparedness. A life-partner [hopefully] is not a bottle of cola whose flavour, body and price can be compared to those of other brands. By all means look for a congenial partner. But not before knowing how congenial you are.

Paromita - Looking back and forward

Paromita is very special - it was the very first novel I ever wrote and it got accepted and published by Rupa and Co. in 2002. To be published in one's first attempt was a dream that had come true. I remember that Paromita started as a short story and it was the commissioning editor at Rupa, Mrs. Paro Anand who saw a seed of a novel in it and encouraged me to flesh it out.

There were no promotions those days, but I still recall the novel got at least seven great reviews in different newspapers and magazines in the children's books category.

Late last year the publisher announced that they were no longer going to sell/print the book and that its rights would revert to me.

That was the end of Paromita, or so I thought - till a couple of days back.
On Jan. 6, I found this message in Facebook - it had been sent three times in two months before I finally saw it. And this despite visiting Facebook daily and checking messages daily.

Here's the message from Mir Shaani:
[:D] omg!
hello maam ,i am mir and i am 15yrs old, i read your book paromita.... and i am simply in love with it, i really like the way you have written it.... i love making movies ..... i have also made paromita into a short film, its not done yet ... whenever it happens iI'LL make sure i send u a DVD of the film.... if u remember, moonis ijlal did the cover of your book , he is my uncle...

i jst wanted to take your permission .... hope you are ok with it! [:)]

regards
mir


For a minute I wondered whether it was someone playing the fool but anyway very hesitantly gave permission - only to be bombarded by a feast of photos from the shoot and a trailer. They can be seen on Mir's blogsite: http://may19films.wordpress.com/

To me the photos and trailer were an emotional jolt: because they were the life breath of Paromita as I had seen it in my mind's eye eight years back.

Paromita started in my mind as an image of a little girl running, her hair and sari flying and dancing in the breeze behind her.

Was she running from something? Was she running towards something? I don't know. All I know and recall is Paromita was first an image.

It grew into a short story. Then it grew into a novel. But the image in my mind remained. The image of a free spirit trapped in time, running hard, running fast...she had a rendezvous with destiny...she made her own destiny.

Mir's photos captured the spirit. I think his short film will.

For any writer, to know that one's story is being adapted into a film is a moment of triumph and fulfillment. It is also an eerie sensation because for the first time, scenes and characters that were alive inside one's head would now be seen outside on a screen. Would they match the scenes in the writer's mind?

To know that what was alive and vital for me is also alive and vital for the movie-maker gives me a strange sense of wordless connectedness.

And when that movie maker is a young reader, who read it with love, and responded to it creatively, the joy is doubled.

Mir says the movie may be released in summer...I am waiting.

The Tanjore Trip - 4

Darasuram - Where Stones Speak and Sing

In Darasuram, we missed the gods for the temples. The Shiva temple at Darasuram [which is closer to Kumbhakonam town than to Tanjore] is said to have been built by Raja Raja II, the grandson of Raja Raja Cholan, in the 12th century. Shiva is worshipped as Airavateswarar here. The temple is much smaller than the other two UNESCO Living Chola temples but far more exquisite in its sculpture.

Outside the only Vaasal of the temple is a tiny Nandi facing the great big wooden door.

Every wall and every pillar, even the steps leading up to the shrines are copiously sculpted and the tiniest of figurines - often not more than a few inches in height - has the graceful body structure and finely chiselled details that we associate with Chola art. Look at the profusely sculpted pillar below.

Note the tiny panels below the sculpted figure and the sculpted arch above it. Note the figure itself. You can almost say the garment separate from the body.

This is an elaborately ornate temple, as you can see, though not as gigantic as the other two. I wonder if it would be right to say that here we see a shift in the Chola artistic vision from design to detail, from architecture to sculpture, from the spiritual to the aesthetic?

If the Tanjore temple is a monument of triumph or a religious monument that works through rousing one's sense of beauty, then the Darasuram temple is a monument to artistic beauty, where a rapturous aesthetic experience itself becomes a near spiritual experience.

If in the Tanjore temple, we could feel the invisible footprint and echoing stride of that colossus among kings, Raja Raja, here I could almost hear the incessant knocking of chisel and axe on stone, and almost see the chips and shards fly in showers of sparks and clouds of dust, as figure after figure bloomed alive.

And as if the sculpture weren't enough of a visual feast, there are murals on niches in the external walls of the shrines, which though somewhat faded and jaded with time are still good enough for details to be visible and colours evident. We couldn't help wondering how the temple must have looked in its heydays, with its brilliant sculpture and the complementary murals glowing in the summer sun.

The motif below will be familiar to temple architecture buffs: look closely and you can see a bull on the left and an elephant on the right.

Entire war scenes and complete stories from mythology have been empanelled on pillars at Darasuram.

Several shrines in the Darasuram and Gangaikondacholapuram complexes lie in ruins today. Some lack vimanams, others are just foundations whose walls lie in heaps of broken stone. Local people say a lot of the solid rocks were carried away to build a stone bridge [Lower Anakkarai] across a river nearby. Some say it was during the British rule that the structures were first brought down. Whatever the truth is, I find it perplexing that the beautiful living breathing sculpted rocks failed to stir and move their destroyers who had the heart to use them to lay a  bridge for town buses and bullock carts.