Hampstead, London

Hampstead, Tagore Plaque

Hampstead, Tagore Plaque

Tagore Blue Plaque

Tagore Blue Plaque

Hampstead Village

Hampstead Village

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Manchester

Plymouth Grove, Manchester

Plymouth Grove, Manchester

Manchester City Library

Manchester City Library

We spent the day in Manchester. It took us about two hours by train to get there from London. We visited the Manchester City Art Gallery. To our disappointment we found nothing of the streets where Sri Aurobindo had lived, except an old pub. It has quite a different atmosphere compared to London. The red brick tall Victorian houses still preserve something of that time when Manchester was the centre of industrial activities in Britain.

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London in the snow

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cat-in-snow

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Book Review

LEFTIST THOUGHT IN INDIAN CINEMA, by Lalit Mohan Joshi

There is something almost infectious about Lalit Mohan Joshi’s enthusiasm for meaningful Indian cinema. He radiates a passion for cinema that anybody who has ever sat before a cinema screen can instantly sense. On 7th November 2008 he was in his elements at the Nehru Centre as he opened and led the ceremony which was held to honour Saeed Akhtar Mirza. It was at this same event that the latest issue of the SACF journal was released by the film maker. Titled “Leftist thought in Indian Cinema” it is a comprehensive volume about the rise and growth of what is commonly known as the parallel cinema or the non -commercial cinema.

Saeed Mirza

That evening Saeed Mirza was awarded the Excellence in Cinema Crystal Pyramid award by the South Asian Cinema Foundation. The award was handed over to him by the Indian High Commissioner Shiv Shankar Roy himself. Film critic for Evening Standard and co-founder of the SACF read out the citation before the audience had the pleasure of listening to Saeed Mirza answer Lalit Mohan Joshi’s questions.

That conversation with the noted film maker in fact greatly helped to understand the content of the volume that he had just released. What exactly is leftist thought in Indian Cinema? Cinema isn’t just story-telling with pictures. It is an experience shared collectively. If one interprets “Leftist thought” as the anti-establishment voice then it is true that this voice has existed right from the days of the first talkies. It is the voice which wants to bring progress and break old dysfunctional ideas. And cinema can be the medium through which this voice can speak. It becomes a very valid medium in a country where the general mass is largely illiterate.

Although it is an issue of a journal “Leftist Thought in Indian Cinema” can be seen as a book and as a comprehensive compilation of writings on the subject. It is meticulously edited by Lalit Mohan Joshi and carries a foreword by Adoor Gopalakrishnan. However, it maintains some of the aspects of a journal by including several interviews with eminent directors whose works have always carried a stamp of sensitivity and beauty of expression. These interviews, some carried out in the past, have a “chatty” quality to them which brings them alive. Leafing through the pages one feels nostalgic. All the old favourites are there, with more than a passing reference: Shyam Benegal, Ritwik Ghatak, Girish Karnad, K. A. Abbas, Saeed Mirza himself, Adoor Gopalakrishnan, Mrinal Sen and even Raj Kapoor and Guru Dutt.

No reader should feel intimidated by the very cerebral title because this “book” is very readable. The volume abounds in photographs and the various chapters are interspersed with quotes from film personalities who belong to this genre. Interestingly, one also finds the lyrics of some well-known leftist songs, translated into English. Only those who know the words in the original will realise how inadequate even the best translation can be. The essence of these songs is not in what is said in the words themselves but in what is said between the lines and even in the bareness of the lines. And that essence, that very Indian sentiment, somehow can not be caught in the English language.

The pages of this elegantly produced volume are packed with information. Not only are there interviews, as mentioned earlier, but also reviews of films and essays by experts. You are told why Leftist thought didn’t work in Indian cinema (it was an imported concept) and why Satyajit Ray‘s films did work even though they were not particularly Leftist (because they were deeply Indian). Coming almost at the end, Sunipa Basu’s essay “How could Leftist ideas ever creep in through Tamil Cinema?” surprises you with its frank humour and sheer raciness; while some other essays are academic and include exhaustive bibliographical notes. Kerala, Tamil Nadu and West Bengal find their places and widen the canvas, making this reading experience truly “Indian”.

It would be callous to even try to find drawbacks of this publication. Lalit Mohan Joshi fights a heroic battle to keep the spotlight on intelligent and creative cinema of India here in London. The sad fact is that the world at large doesn’t know that there is anything beyond the commercial cinema of Bombay. Say “Indian Cinema” and you are likely to find someone react with “Oh, Bollywood!” What should be recognised as a folk art form is thought of as the best we have to say. Lalit Mohan Joshi deserves our praise and support for the work he is doing. This issue of SACF’s journal is a gift to those who love artistic Indian cinema anywhere in the world.

The evening of 7th November was a cocktail of various delights. The award and the book release were already special, the opening speech by the Indian High Commissioner Shiv Shankar Roy as well as the words spoken by Derek Malcolm were truly enjoyable and inspiring, watching a short reel made on Mirza’s body of work was an unexpected bonus since it is difficult to get any of his films on DVD, but the conversation with Saeed Mirza, one of the pioneers of the Indian parallel cinema, was the part which was most deeply satisfying. It was a privilege to hear him speak of what goes on in the mind of a creative artist like him, how a stray incident can trigger off a whole new train of thought, leading to the birth of a film.

The Mumbai film industry invests billions into an activity that in the end only promotes sex, violence and sentimentality. Does a country like India need that? Even a thousandth of that sum would largely suffice to make a film that would touch a heart or inspire the youth or show the way to a better collective life. As he spoke directly and so eloquently to the audience that evening it was clear that no progress can come about without that desire for it.

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Sir Stafford Cripps

All human knowledge is like a jigsaw puzzle. At first you know only a few things and by and by you add other bits of information because they connect with what you already know. It is a moment of great joy when you accidentally discover something which is a missing piece of the puzzle, and which connects two parts of knowledge you already have.

As I was looking at the books on the shelves of our local library in London my eyes fell on a biography of Sir Stafford Cripps. Was this the same Cripps to whom Sri Aurobindo had sent that famous telegram? Was this the same man who had replied with such dignity to him? Strange that we know next to nothing about
Cripps although we can not stop repeating how the tragedy of the partition of India would never have happened if this man’s proposal had been accepted by the leaders of the country in 1942.

I did not lose a minute and borrowed the book that day. The first thing I did was to look at the index in the hope of finding what his biographer might have said about his exchange of telegrams with Sri Aurobindo. No, he wasn’t under ‘S’ and he wasn’t under ‘A’. Maybe he was classified under ‘Ghose’? But he wasn’t under that either. How could it be that a piece of information that was so important to us, the followers of Sri Aurobindo, was not even mentioned once in this exhaustive biography of Sir Stafford Cripps? Perhaps this is the sad truth, that no one actually registered how important that communication was.


continued

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London

Albert Hall

Albert Memorial

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France

A short break in France has been very relaxing. We spent a quiet weekend in the Lot in the silence of Grezels. From the window we could see the castle on the hill as the sun went down. The evenings were spent by the fireside reading books on British history. We witnessed the arrival of Autumn. The vines were slowly turning red, rust and deep crimson.

Paris after six years was an experience of great significance. Meeting some of my oldest and closest friends brought a joy that made two days seem so full that it felt like a week. What was new? People standing outside the offices or shops to smoke their cigarettes. I had never used Euros before and they were quite confusing. What else? The scooters and the bicycles. I didn’t expect to see so many people riding scooters to work. In a strange sort of way it reminded me of India. There were many interesting details that caught my eyes. But most of all there was something special about seeing Autumn in Paris.

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Diwali

Diwali lights

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France

Flowers, Paris

Roses, France

Chateau de Grezels

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Leaves, France

Leaves, France

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Regent’s Park, London

Regent’s Park

Rose, Regent’s Park

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The Mother in Japan II

Canal, Kyoto

Going to a place a second time can never be like the first. The novelty of the first visit can not be repeated because the first impressions have an intensity that one can never find again. A second visit to a well-loved place, on the other hand, is like meeting an old friend. We had made up our minds to go back to Japan as soon as we returned from our first trip. There were so many unfinished stories, so many unsolved mysteries and so many answers that had yet to be found.

continued

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Green Park, London

Green Park 1

Green Park 2

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The Olympic Games

I have been watching the Olympic Games on television nearly all day. It’s more than watching some athletes or divers competing. It’s more like watching the whole world taking a step forward on the spiral ramp of evolution.

The entire planet is connected in this great event. We are looking at human beings who are competing against each other but also against the limits of the possible. When a world record is broken we feel that we have all won. We are also going forward in our perception of each other.

It is amazing to see the women who are competing in every category. We have gone from achievement to achievement. How can anyone think of women any more as weak and helpless creatures? The track events are dominated by the blacks – the fastest man and the fastest woman are blacks – and that will certainly make many look at them in a different light.

These sportsmen and women are right now the role models for millions of young people. For once the fashion models, the rock stars and the film stars are in the background and we have on centre-stage those who have really worked hard to achieve something – taking the human body towards greater strength and perfection in movements – that makes them global icons.

It is wonderful to see how our desire to feel victorious over nations can be fulfilled through sports.

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Pondicherry

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Where have all the pavements gone?

Having spent a year in London I have by now got over my sense of wonder over the flowers in the front gardens, the fruit yoghurts and seeing sunlight in the sky at 9 pm. I have even got over my initial shock of seeing everyone dressed in black. But there is just one thing that continues to take my breath away. That is the sight of clean, empty, wide pavements.

I still marvel at the way I can walk from my house to the supermarket which is a kilometre and a half away without having to once step on to the road except when I have to cross over. The people walking alongside me on the perfectly level pavements know that this is the basic minimum a human being in an urban environment can expect. But for me this is absolute luxury.

As I walk back home I dream and reflect, since I don’t have the stress of having to negotiate the traffic. I float in nostalgia and remember how thirty years ago Pondicherry was just a sleepy town. True, there were no air-conditioned supermarkets, no cash machines and no satellite TV but how wonderful it was to have wide open roads where one could walk fearlessly.

Children actually walked to school if they did not go by bicycle. People went everywhere on foot, and if they really had to go very far they took a cycle rickshaw. There were so few cars that one could count them and autorickshaws were unheard of. The roads were not jammed up with parked cars and motorcycles. There used to be neat rows of cycles outside public buildings such as the General Post Office or banks.

But all that is a thing of the past now. Now it is common to see teenagers on scooters and everybody else on motor-cycles and cars. And the pedestrians? Well, there’s just no place for them. It is now too dangerous to walk. Everybody is on a motorised vehicle but how many have actually heard of the rules of the road? From the way the traffic moves, hardly anybody, it would seem. For example no one ever stops or even slows down near a cross-road. One can imagine how dangerous this is when one remembers that Pondicherry is actually built in a grid pattern so you can not take twenty steps without coming to a cross-road. What was supposed to make the town more organised has now become a nightmare.

The roads are full of speeding vehicles and the pavements are used for everything except what they were made for. Look around you and you will see that the space that should rightfully belong to the pedestrians is now hijacked by the hawkers, tea-stalls and phone-booths or parked vehicles. The new houses which are coming are more and more being built from the place where the road ends because very inch that is not the road must now be grabbed.

As one steps onto the street one finds that one third of the space has been taken by the parked vehicle and the two-thirds is taken up by traffic moving at high speed in both directions. So what does the poor pedestrian do? He is forced to steer himself in that same space where cars, motorcycles, scooters, bicycles and autorickshaws are engaged in a race.

The one thing that could be done without spending a great deal of money would be to make zebra crossings. Not all zebra crossings need traffic lights; there are some which are meant to be pedestrian crossings where those who are on foot have priority. But on second thoughts, zebra crossings are more than just a few stripes of white paint. They have to be respected and the vehicles will have to stop when anyone is crossing the road. And that is where we will fail. We just don’t know how to respect other people’s rights.

As I walk back from the supermarket in London I dream of seeing these same beautiful pavements in Pondicherry. How wonderful it would be if Indians too could slow down at cross-roads and stop to let pedestrians cross. In the meantime all I can do is look admiringly at the traffic islands and the priority pedestrian crossings. I still stand and gape as a tourist when I see the big red double-decker bus slow down to a stop when a bent old woman puts her foot forward on a pedestrian crossing to get to the other side of the road.

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Leaves in silhouette, India

leaves, silhouette

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Sri Aurobindo’s Collected Poems

Sri Aurobindo considered himself to be firstly a poet, but ironically this aspect of his life remains the least known. Of all his poetic creations the most widely read is Savitri, but since that falls in the category of mantric utterance and not mere poetical composition I will leave it out of this discussion. I will only take up the volume Collected Poems and try to understand why it remains relatively unknown, even among his disciples.

Poetry is truly a complete expression of beauty because it combines many different kinds of beauty: the beauty of sounds, of images, of thought, of emotions and of expression. And yet, unfortunately, for most people in India the word “poetry” conjures up only images of their school life. Those images often have in the background the voice of an unkind teacher or the stress of having to struggle with incomprehensible or archaic words. Most people think that one bids goodbye to poetry when one steps out of the student life. This may be why poems don’t usually form a part of our general reading.

continued

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Orchid, India

Orchid

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Oxford

Oxford view

We decided to go to Oxford to make the most of the fine summer day which had been predicted.

The main purpose of the visit was to see the Picture Gallery of Christ Church College. We had been planning to go and see this collection for a long time as there are some paintings in it which were gifted by Sir Richard Nosworthy, who was my husband’s great-uncle.

We really enjoyed sitting by the river and looking at the meadow. We were so close to nature even though we were just a few steps away from the high street and all the shops and cafés. The roses were in full bloom in every little garden.

The architecture of the various colleges was something worth seeing as well as the lovely botanical gardens. Just the fact of being in a place where for centuries people have come to seek knowledge was in itself an experience.

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