Friends,

I deleted my previous note by mistake as I was trying to upload a full forty-six pages more on this subject.

Sorry!

Archaeological Blogging in The Indian Context: Some Perspectives.

By

Ajay Pratap, Ph.D.
Reader,
Dept. of History,
Faculty of Social Sciences,
Benaras Hindu University,
Varanasi – 221 005

Abstract

Introduction

I started archaeological blogging against a specific background. This was simply the enormous amounts of time it takes an Indian archaeologist to reach his/her research findings to an international/national audience.

Given that the purpose of publishing (in any form) is to communicate with other archaeologists (nationally and internationally), I found the modus operandi to submitting research pieces to journals etc. a very self-defeating process.

In the present some journals stoop so low as to request a membership or subscription of the journal from potential contributors. National and international journals are also notorious in rejecting the outputs of rather serious research on completely trivial grounds. The only recourse then is to publish ones research in a monograph form (which also takes some pursuing) or to take recourse to digital media such as blogs.

Background to http://archaeologicalhistory.blog.co.uk/

In the effort to setup my own blog I was inspired mainly by Michael Shanks’s website metamedia.stanford.edu/~mshanks/weblog/ and Jonathan Mark Kenoyer’s www.harappa.com that were both websites that I would recommend to my B.A. (Hons.) part I students as back-up to classroom pedagogy.

To begin with, the cost of settingup the blog was the main concern. In the context of the Banaras Hindu University blogging is still a very new sort of academic activity and the chance of getting any funds for this purpose could be well ruled out. In that context, setting-up a whole website was even more an impossible objective.

In such a circumstance, I used the google to see if any company offered free we-blogs and among others I found that blog.co.uk offered precisely that facility. Although, in the first instance, blog.co.uk. provides free blogging space and support there is the possibility within it, to upgrade to a professional status.

Indian newspapers are also quite alive to the new media of blogging and we get several features about blogging, full-time bloggers, and blog-pundits.

Looking at another blog www.burmareview.com that was setup by an academic colleague of mine, in another university, I felt that setting up a blog could provide interim relief. However, much to my surprise when I requested that friend to help me in setting-up the blog, he never replied to any of my queries. I got the message, that bloggers are fiercely private people with a do it yourself sort of attitude.

Setting up

Thereafter I took recourse to the Wiki and several other sites that would help with designing a correct syntax for the name of the blog. Although this, in retrospect, seems to have been a very easy task, it took me nearly two months or so to simply find the correct syntax for the name of the blog.

Subject Matter

That done, I was immediately faced with the problem of what to write on my blog. Postprocessual archaeology has been making great waves in the western archaeology, and not much of it is available in print for Indian readers, and therefore I decided that it would be topically relevant for the purposes of Indian archaeology to be writing first on the relevance of blogging and then on postprocessual archaeology.

It would be relevant from the appendices that I wrote….pieces on the relevance of blogging.

It would be evident from the appendices that I wrote more than half-a-dozen pieces on postprocessual archaeology, between… and ….in a form that would be accessible to even lay readers.

As for the subject matter other than postprocessual archaeology, I also thought it relevant to discuss issues I deal with: ethnoarchaeology, ethnographic writing, ethnographic films.

Against the background that readership of books etc. is on a steady decline in India, as in the rest of the world, I also wrote, several pieces (see appendices) on good literature, in a way that would attract readers of the blog to these new writings.

The archives of this blog, from approximately March till May 2007, records my attempts to give a rendition of the precepts of postprocessual archaeology in a way that would make it accessible to Indian readers.

In this way, I would say that http://archaeologicalhistory.blog.co.uk/ has strived to create an environment of eclecticism in matters archaeological, within Indian archaeology.

Liberties

Now, since I am a practicing archaeologist myself, May 2007 onwards I have ventured to cover the other aspects that postprocessual archaeology (as a practice permits) – mainly that the archaeologist may also be a commentator on social practices of his/her day – media, film, cinema, TV. material culture, social transformations, gaps and loop-holes in existing theory and practice in Indian archaeology, literature, poetry, theatre and other such discursive practices.

Audience response

The blog.co.uk provides a blogstat option that gives a statistical view of visitors and page-views. I have extracted the following tables of visitors and pageviews from the archives of http://archaeologicalhistory.blog.co.uk/

My attempts to network archaeologists, Indian mostly, through sending online invitations to join my blog community did not prove very productive a pursuit. While this is the fact, why this should be so, has remained a great mystery for me, a I have personally, as an archaeologist, have always taken interest in the works of other archaeologists, whether in print-media or their websites. This lack of reverse appreciation has/had bothered me, but I have learnt to get-along and see how responses develop in the future. One recourse is to persist in sending invitations in the face of multiple and consistent rebuffs, however, since I take the blogging enterprise as one that is in the larger interest of Indian archaeology, I do not repeat do not take this issue of feeble or no responses to heart.

Ajay, 2008.

Friends,

Bhanua’s Cauldron.

Author's Note:

All characters in this novelette are purely fictional, unless otherwise stated. Any resemblance to anyone or thing, living or dead, is purely coincidental, and not to be taken seriously.

"For the disclosure of buried civilizations and lost peoples who created them only one thing can be done: it is to dig hopefully and diligently where their suspected localities once were so as to come on evidence of them". From Group 8, Art, Chapter 56, pp 6873. Digging Up The Ancient World - I from Arthur Mee, Children's Encyclopedia, Amalgamated Press Private Limited, 1960, London.

Ajay Pratap, 13th May, 2008.

I am genuinely interested in plants and gardens, especially the wild, unkempt ones which as it were, may be, put in some order. However, let us begin this at the very beginning. There was once a very wild garden that was right in front of our house in a neighborhood called the Bengali Tola, in the town of Bhagalpur, in Bihar. This was not a garden in any sense save that it fell within the premises of a close relative. Basically it was a bunch of plants, some isolated, and others bush, sprung up randomly in an erstwhile Bengali maath or field. There was kandel with yellow flowers and slim long leaves, Zizyphus jujuba (ber), and Aegle marmelos (Bel) not much to look at but very precious for fruit; numerous kaantawala (thorny) species, including Datura inoxia, that is offered to Shivji as an offering, as well as sundry, unidentified ones, and most notably, the urkussi, or bitchchi patta. This was the deadliest. One touch of its shiny white leaves and the body part coming into contact with it would burn like blazes until doused profusely with cow-dung. The mango-trees inside and just outside this compound had also wild bee-hives. An errant volley from our slingshots often roused the bees which stung this one and that one and we would all flee screaming mai-baap, mai-baap. All these trees and plants grew hither and thither in our Chacha’s compound. Many a daring youngster would venture into his compound, which was sans a boundary, to get at the delectable fruits, or just for frolic, or the many wondrous other things to be found in the thickets there. My best memory of Shatrughan Chacha is that he was sitting down to an early morning meal of Mutton and Rice reading the Times of India and guffawing. When i entered his range of vision he called me to him and showed me in 1963 my first R.K. Laxman cartoon. Ostensibly it was about some politicians visit to a flood-hit area and the atrocious remedies for undoing the ills of floods suggsted by him.

And right across his boundary was Kolyan Sen’s orchard and those of a few other baboos of the neighbourhood. Wonderous Mangoes, Guavas and other fruit trees were there in Kolyan Sen’s compound. I wonder how the Bengali gardens, even urban ones, are always full of fruit trees, but so little spoken of! This is not all that might be said about Chacha’s compound which still exists. Along with others, I spent all of the first of seven years of my life playing in it. On the eighth, I left for boarding school at Patna. But the Tola was much bigger and of mixed population in terms of caste. Some Rajput migrants like us from upstream Patna, others Rajputs largely from north (rural) Bihar. We are Bisen, by Gotra, Shatrughan Chachas family, Sirmour, and perhaps a few other Rajput families of various other gotras also existed in the mohalla. There were also Bhumihars, a land-owing caste exclusive to Bihar and parts of U.P. One owned a very large house in the mohalla and had evidently managed it from an erstwhile Bengali Baboo. Brahmins too existed. Right next-door, to the left of us, was Kiron Babu, who worked for Bihar Rajya Transport Corporation. To the right Sisu’s family (actually his grandfather’s house) mainly in Law, but rather large in size, and still retaining their rural links was full to the core with about two dozen denizens of various heights, weights and lengths. The best of course was Raj Kumar’s family. Most evenings after our daily frolic Raj Kumar would take me to his home. They were recent migrants from the village and their own house was only part pucca, in part thatch, where their kitchen was situated and a separate shed for the family cows. His old Nanee would make us Chikna-Roti — incredibly sweet and made and served by the Chulha where she made it. Raj Kumar’s family owned a cow so did Sisoo’s and perhaps a few others in the area as well.Here we must not forget Bhanua’s cauldron. Thereby hangs a tale. Bhanua’s father was a building contractor perhaps for roads. Now they use this very big Karahi or Cauldron to boil the tar to melting point with. So he must have been a building contractor. One such huge cauldron lay on Bhanua’s roof or the side-roof. Now we were not allowed permission into Bhanua’s house. What we did do, all eight or ten of us, was to climb up Mr. Haridwar Rai’s staircase and from there jumped onto Bhanua’s dad’s side-roof, to look at the cauldron, fly kites and talk. The cauldron was most fascinating. What lived in it would today attract a full-fledged National Geographic film “Denizens of the Cauldron” sort of film. First of all, there was slime, lots of it. That, in reflection, was the remnant, over-boiled tar that had also rotted and become mid-way between green, brown and black. It was the joy of our life. Yes, that slime was heavenly, it would float and wave, when the very large cauldron was rocked, or when it was raining and the rain poured into the cauldron. It would conjure various shapes and we could then discuss sea-monsters, sky monsters and monsters of all ilk. I may easily say that this was the fulcrum of our lives for many years. Now Bhanua was also the expert kite-flyer. He was absolutely the last word in mastery of the profession. Thus, as I was to learn much much later, the mohalla, was quite exclusive. An American university Professor, even published an article on it. Of course, there were, rather a lot of Bengalis in it. There was a mixed attitude towards, them. We Biharis considered ourselves, in some way, superior as we were more bhumiputras than them, of course, they could also claim some antiquity over there, as prior to 1900s the states of Bihar, Bengal and Orissa, were conjointly all one. But we were after all more original than them. This is how; one small portion of Bihar, in the 1970s viewed itself. Of the Bengalis, there was Kiran babu, in the house adjoining ours, who served in the Rajya Transport Corporation; next to him another Babu, who ran a tailoring shop. Next to him there was a whole lane full of Bengali’s who lived in very nice and well decorated houses. One thing outstanding about this lane, as I remember, was that the Bengali girls were all very good at playing with dolls. I observed my sister play with them. The small dolly things they made were quite outstanding. But that is what the girls did. We only made occasional forays into the doll-game to steal the miniscule baalishes (pillows etc.) that were made for the dolls whether or not that was of any use to us in what we did. The boys, quite apart from indulging in horse-play, as described before, did many other things. In this mohalla, thanks to its people, the roof-top culture was quite thriving. Kite-flying was an addiction for the boys, and it could be said that this very easily took up most of our time. No one knew from where the intricacies of this art originated, but I think we knew every-thing there was to be known about this activity. Where the best kites were sold in town, from where to get the latai or the wooden whorl, from where the thread unfurls, how to do the manjha and what attack and defense ploys to undertake to win at kite flying. There are various types of manjhas. Take some sabudana (sago), some colour, some fused 100 watt bulbs and of course the length of twine or thread that you wish to prepare for kite-wars. Now take a container, light a small fire underneath it, adding some water and colour. Now take the 100 watt bulbs and smash them gently, one by one, and recover the pieces of glass. Put these bits of glass in a paper packet and hammer (with a piece of stone) till the glass reduces to mere powder. Pour the powdered gals into the boiling sabudana (you may add one or two raw-eggs to add strength), add the colour, usually red or pink and then boil and stir the sabudana till it is really really hot. Next, leave the concoction to cool, not absolutely but to the point it may be touched by hand, and then the manjha begins. Two Latais (or Whorls) are needed for Manjha. One to feed-out the virgin-thread, and after the Manjha is applied mid-way, the second whorl wheels in the toughened thread. The Manjha is taken from the concoction of the colour and ground-glass and applied by Chutki (the pulp is put between the thumb and first-finger and the virgin thread is also held in the same grip, such that all the thread coming from the first whorl passes through the Chutki into the second one. The process is slow enough such that that the thread passing through the chutki containing the brew actually imbibes the potent mixture mixed with ground glass, and from there onto the next whorl where it is stored and then dried in the baking sun before further activities. This glass, sabudana, colour concoction was just one of the many wondrous manjhas that Bhanua knew of. It is thus that he was the supreme master and nobody could better him in the neighbourhood.

Kiran Babu's Brother

This particular memory is slightly impaired. One afternoon we heard noises from our neighbours, as is associated with an unusual happening (as in welcoming) an unusual guest. My sister and I ran out of our house to behold a very well-dressed gentleman alighting from a rickshaw. His wife and children were also with him. A little later we were to learn that he was Kiron Babu's brother who had returned after journeying far-afield. On the same evening we were asked by Kiran babu's eldest daughter, Krishna Di, a close friend of my sister, to join their family to see pictures from around the world. Inside Kiron babu's house, into his drawing-room, a slide projector was setup on a side-table and one after the other colored pictures were being projected on the wall. Some of these had Kiron Babu's brother with his family in the foreground and some unusual looking locales in the background, but I swear that he did show us the Big-Ben and the Buckingham Palace. He also, in the process, smoked profusely, for us to infer that all gentlemen who travel abroad must smoke, sending curls of exhaust up in their brothers' homes. He also gave us a running verbal commentary to go with all the slides. There must have been about two dozen other people from this small neighborhood who beheld the unusual spectacle. One side-effect of this slide-show was that I and my friends got busy in the weeks following to make a slide-projector of our own. It was usual in the seventies that Film-Halls their reject and other celluloid just outside the premises of the picture-halls, and that was a goldmine for young inventors to pick-up this refuse footage and to use it for such glorious purposes for half-made slide-projectors. There was an engineer's son in our neighborhood as well, and he helped greatly with this project. Jhunnu, Shatrughan Chacha's youngest son, perhaps, got hold of a tin-machine, that was a projector; we bought a 100 watt bulb and fitted it into the projector, and pushed in the celluloid. The contraption did have a lens but I am not very sure that we got the focus right, try hard as we did to make the pictures appear on the wall.

The Monkey-Troops

An outstanding feature, from our point of view was the Langur Monkeys that raided our neighbourhood periodically. These were a very naughty and fearless lot. However, we never heard that anyone had been bitten by them or even scratched. However, there was the one case of one of our precious contemporaries who earned the rare distinction of being slapped by a fully grown male Langur. This was a matter of great and long-abiding mirth in the neighbourhood. Usually, the monkey-troop, like my friends circle, moved from one roof-top to another; females, adolescents, lactating-mothers, babies and all. They would make a feast of all edible things that lay in their path. These usually included food-grains laid on rooftops for drying. Some adventurous Langurs even found their way down staircases and into kitchens that was usually emitting aromas of midday meals; to surpirse the matrons, and grabbed whatever they could lay their hands on, leading to shrieks of anger, bewilderment and fright. The things they alighted with usually included kneaded-flour, cooked-rice, dal, vegetables and so on. The Langur in question then scaled the rooftop in question and made a merry meal of it while the matron shrieked blue murder. Naturally, the many fruit trees were also an attraction for them. Since mangoes, coconuts, bel, tamarind, guavas and litchis ripen mostly in the summer it is a safe inference that the raids of the Langoors were usually in the summer months.

Sundari, The Sabjiwali - The Vegetable-Woman

From as far back as I may remember, our family always owned a car. Our first car, a ramshackle affair, was a Hindustan Ten. They don't make them anymore. Its engine jutted-out royally in front, the nose very streamlined, with silvery accoutrements, four-seater, floor-shift gears, and the hatch or roof opened just a bit, with no guarantee of sliding back in keeping with monsoonal downpours. It was a grand British period car, but not nearly as efficiently running 1959-65 as one would have it. Petrol was cheap at Rs.6:00 a liter, but when a tenure track University Teacher's monthly take-home salary was just Rs.250:00, then even at that low cost of petrol, it was not done to take the car out every day. Those were days of thrift, and consequently, of using the services of the local Rickshaw Khatal (see Map!) and of course buying vegetables from Sundari, The Sabjiwali. Sundari usually carried a headload or bojha of about ten Kg. in a dalia (a basket for vegetables woven from bamboo fibre). She would climb our verandah after her usual calls announcing her arrival and call for me by name. I would promptly run out, open the latch to our drawing-room and help her down with her head-load. The heavy head-load emitted earthy and heavenly smells of fresh vegetables like mint. She would cut loose with a few curses about the heat or the cold, some lousy customers and I didn't really remember if she ever asked for even so much as a drink of water. First things first, after her headload was down she would immediately squat on the floor and wipe off her sweat. Then she would ask me to summon my mother. Her dalia (basket) contained Onions, potatoes, tomatoes, other edible roots and tubers that are consumed usually in Indian homes, Brinjals, cucumber, ginger, sem, french beans, green peas, mint, coriander, gourd, bottle-gourd, bitter-gourd, all profusely dowsed with water to preserve their freshness. I would run inside the house to summon my mother even if she (my mother) felt that no vegetables were needed that day. So far as I can remember we enjoyed good relation with Sundari and she never left our house without some of her load dispensed with. Sometimes, my mother would give her some clothes or household things for which we had no further use. Then she would get up and grunt for my help again with the headload and would be off for the day.

The Bandarwala - Mokeywala

The Bandarwala was quite unpredictable in his visits. As luck would have it he would visit with his two Rhesus Monkeys around five-ish in evenings (summertime) when all the kids were out on the streets, front-gardens or cavorting in Shatrughan Chacha's compound. At the time, usually, the elders of the entire neighbourhood were usually to be seen, after a thorough baking indoors from the summer heat, lounging out of the houses, sipping tea (not allowed to kids!), chatting or tending their miniscule gardens they had. My father and mother were absolutely devoted to their 10 x 5 sq.ft.garden. They had a good collection of cactii of all shapes and sizes and more than many types of roses. Although red ones predominated however some were grafted locally giving rise to new hues. The bandarwala, like the many other walas, had his characteristic call..."Nirih Nirihiya, Ilaiah...aaa..aa..aaa"., said again and again at a pitch and timbre that revealed that he was a musalman, not that that mattered anything at all for any purpose. If it had been awhile that our gang had seen his monkeys peform, then we would gather around at the door-steps of the house where he was summoned to have a free view ofthe monkey-play. Now the monkey wala (madari), unlike Thakur, the Barber, was a very unkempt man, smelling as bad as his monkeys, two of them, Rhesus (the red-faced-ones!), one male and the other female, both tethered with rope. He wore a very tattered lungi (waistcloth), was usually barefoot, and his upper-garment had once been a kurta. he had a very large shoulder-bag, with all the monkeys' things, that was patchwork, one damaru (tomtom drum of the type associated with Shivji and his tandav dance) and a stout cane with which to periodically prod the monkeys and to threaten away belligerent kids. One of his shows took place in Kiran Babu's compound.The bandarwala sang songs from films(usually Hindi hits!) and beat his drum and the male and female monkeys played the hero and heroine from the film with great aplomb. Then came the piece-de-resistance. The marriage of the two monkeys, Bengali style. He the madari, would change his refrain and clothe his monkeys appropriately and change over to chaste Bengali, "Soosur bari jabe...are thoda fashion Korbe", then taking some dirt from the ground he would rub it on the female's face (Lakme compact powder!); and then again on the male one, "Chaka Chak, Bhaka Bhak". The male monkey would don some kid’s rejected clothes (usually shorts and shirt), a broken frame of specs and a cap; the female would get a skirt; an upper-jama, something to cover her head, some jewellery; and then the madari would tug at the ropes and herd them round and round till the seven pheras were complete, the marriage thus complete. It was another matter that since Kiron Babu had no less than four daughters, and no sons, that usually it was at his place where the marriage would take place. It was always the elders that paid the madari.

Thakur, the Family Barber

At under six years of age, one possibly engage in conversations such as where how and why Thakur Ji, our family barber, usually roamed the mohalla during the day, the evenings or sometimes only on sundays when his working clientele would likely be at home. He had a wooden-box that he carried with him. It contained two or three fine heavy duty scissors to clip and trim hair, a small metal-cup, a shaving round and a brush, a country, that is old-fashioned razor with the cutting or shaving edge jutting-out from the handle that opened lick a flick-knife, and a naharni (a small sharp metal-tool, again a local invention, to shear nails with). Thakur was usually clad in a khadi dhoti and white kurta and had a red gamchcha (a cotton-towel) with which he would wipe off his profusely seawting head and neck. He wore chappals that were made of rejected truck tyres, and are still made to day for the use of the subaltern. Thakur was a very soft-spoken man and extremely gentle to boot. He had custom from most houses of the Bengali tola neighbourhood. A hair-cut with him, needless to say, was a family event. I was made to sit cross-legged, on the floor; a soiled piece of cloth smelling of many things was whipped around the neck and tied really tight. While snipping away at the hair, Thakur would break out into a thousand stories, anecdotes, questions and soon, in a haircut that was supervised usually by my father, who would follow suit after mine. These meandering conversations usually drew to a momentary close when the ustara was to be applied, a smear of cold water around the nape of the neck and the side-burns, then Thakur would sharpen his razor on the piece of leather, and whisk-whisk it went until a perfect shape to the hair-cut had been given. I wish I could remember these conversations with him, however, it was a safe inference that it would have been about the prices of this and that, the weather, the local and national politics and an occasional favour that he may have asked of my father. The razor cleaning was followed by dowsing some powder some strokes of the cleaning brush and the hair-cut was over. My father's turn next. He would pull-out a chair from the drawing-room and perch on that and Thakur would give him his hair-cut standing-up, as a measure of respect, I suppose. Thakur had some interesting theories about hairs on various parts of the body. He would absolutely refuse to snip the hair growing on my father's ear-lobes or on his back, "These hairs are Shubh (auspicious), Sahab".

The Doodhwala - The MilkMan

My family never owned any cows, nor frankly, was there any space in our lodgings for such bovines. My father did like dogs, we had one Alsatian, called Caesar, but that did not make up for milk requirements. He then developed an interest in poultry and brought home some chicks. Next to the shower-room in our aangan (an inner courtyard in Indian Homes); a coop was built for them and due course these developed into fine hens and even laid an occasional perfect-egg. I remember how excited and scientifically my father was dedicated to their upkeep. Their feed and other rudimentary requirements were brought from the Bhagalpur District Government Farms in Barari. So the birds got good feed. However, the hens' suffered due to the cold winters, and I remember, he placed the one large size mirror in the house, in a chair (near the coop) at an angle that would reflect the sunlight into the coop. That, however, did not keep-away, the cat, the occasional snake, from the nearby evergreen growths just described from trying to get at the eggs or the Chicken and the Chicks. In such circumstances, if alerted by their cackle, we would wake-up and create a racket till the marauders fled, leaving the birds in peace. It was practice that most families in the neighbourhood, apart from Raj Kumar's that is, had a milkman bring the cows in question and have him milk them in front. That however is not something we did. We trusted the milkman and continued to purchase milk that had been watered down considerably. We complained, the milkman complained and the arrangement remained.

Bhim - The Dhobi - The Washerman

Bhim also wore a khadi dhoti and kurta and had a wonderful new bicycle that he used to carry clothes with. It was fitted with many colorful things, but he has himself a very somber fellow and very laconic. He was not the only washerman that we gave our clothes to for washing. He had been replaced once or twice, for ruining, this cloth or that, losing this cloth or that, or plainly inexplicable absences beyond a duration reasonable for a sojourn to his native village. However, he was the longest serving washerman at our place, and was therefore legend. He must have worked with us for nearly eighteen years. The main reason for our retaining his services, despite periodic follies, was that he was a gentleman, and never uttered a word whether being praised to high heavens for his meticulous work or being given a tongue-lashing by my mother for having put in too much neel (blue) such that all the clothes had likewise become a sky colour.

Tiwari - The Newspaperwala

Of all the characters, I could sketch to some effect, c. 1959-65 in Bengali Tola Mohalla of Bhagalpur, and if there was any prize of sorts that I could offer to the Star of them all, it would have been, the gentle, good-humoured, mostly punctual, news paper wala, Shri Tiwari Ji, the great. I call him great, simply because he was great. Imagine, the pre T.V. era, when all the news came either from the radio (mostly monopolized by my sister for listening to Radio Ceylon and Binaca Geetmala and various other Hindi Filmy hits, golden oldie, that she would for hours hum and write down the lyrics of in a small note-book and later check it with her friends if she had them absolutely right), then it is Tiwari Ji who provided us deliverance with regards to When America and Russia were really going to destroy each other, and us in the process (remember the great Third World War) - which was also the great subject of discussion and speculations and tall claims, as are made by children when they muse such things as "If Dara Singh and King Kong fight, the who will win?" - an endless and irresolvable sort of proposition and much as children would weigh the options and the sizes of various muscles of their protagonists, so the elders to one day laugh and another day predict complete doom, and the master, therefore , of the piece was the great Tiwari Ji. Behold, his newsbag, was rather diminutive for all that it carried - The Times of India, The Indian Nation, Dinman, Dharmayug, and for the ladies, Manohar Kahaniyan, Manorama, Reader's Digest, The Occassional Span and The Soviet News (both of them were then supplied free), and for the kids, the Indrajal Comics, Tarzan, Chandamama. To buy Superman and The Hulk, we had to go to the A.H. Wheeler Stall at the Bhagalpur Railway Station. It could not be an overstatement that the reading interests of my family and friends were rather eclectic, we would devour anything that came our way, from newspapers to ladies magazines to comics. Of course, my mother was very selective about what she liked to read and had slowly but steadily assembled her private library of Hindi books and novels. These, apart from occasional purchases from other sources, were acquired from Hind Pocket Books, who for a small price of Rs. twenty only proffered the best in Hindi Literature and indeed even world literature that had been translated into Hindi. There was also Gulshan Nanda and Karnal Ranjeet that we enjoyed reading. Otherwise there was Tolstoy, Vidyapati, Rangeya Raghav, Nirmal Verma, Mannu Bhandari, Mohan Rakesh, Shrilal Shukla and some western writers whose names i do not immediately recollect.

The Encyclopedias

There was once a ten volume series of The Children`s Encyclopedia (founded by Arthur Mee). This was originally published in Great Britain by the Amalgamated Press, London. The copy we had was reprinted by the Standard Literature Co. Pvt. Ltd., 13/1, Old Court House St., Calcutta. The volume seven under the subtitle Men and Women had glorious colour picture plates like the blind John Milton dictating Paradise Lost to his daughter; the schoolboy Shakespeare, at his lessons. Although women figured prominently in these plates there is almost no mention of enlightened women at par with the men. A chapter later, under the caption, Stories, we find a reference to Harriet Tubman (with a picture of her) and the subtitle - the slave-woman who led her people out of bondage. The children's encyclopedia is divided into the following sections: Group I Earth and its Neighbours; Group II - Men and Women; Group III - Stories; Group IV - Animal Life; Group V - History; Group VI - Familiar Things; Group VII - Wonder; Group VIII - Arts; Group IX - Ourselves; Group X - Plant Life; Group XI - Countries, Group XII Picture Atlas; Group XIII - Poetry and Nursery Rhymes, Group XIV -Power, Group XV - Literature, Group XVI - Ideas, Group XVII - The Bible, and finally Group XVIII - Things to make and do. Each of the sections is highly absorbing and the picture plates being in colour would easily offer an Indian kid a world-tour in a matter of hours. Although it must be said that the text is a mite difficult written as it in almost antiquated English with an emphasis on the commonwealth and its importance to the world. The pictures of famous painters, writers and poets are very informative, so also those of the great architectural, secular and non-secular, marvels of the world - this encyclop3dia is a gold-mine or understanding how the western world saw itself and the rest, in the late seventies. I quote below, although on a differing note, a lovely poem by Longfellow:

The Rain

How beautiful is the rain
After the dust and heat
In the broad and fiery street
In the narrow lane
How beautiful is the rain.

How it clatters along the roofs
Like the tramp of hoofs
How it gushes and struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout
Across the window panes

It pours and pours
And swift and wide
With a muddy tide
Like a river down the gutter roars the rain, the welcome rain.

From the neighbourhood school
Come the boys
With more than their wonted noise,
And commotion,
And down the wet streets
Sail their mimic fleets.

Of course the poem is a little longer, although its fit with the Indian scene is perfect to the extent that like our elders always did and always still do, when it rain like that, is to mention what it might do to the farmer and his crops.

Life up the Guava Tree

A word is here in order about our tree-life, as well. Just where Shatrughan Chacha's southern boundary existed (The NORTH in the map is where SOUTH is assumed) there grew an enormous Guava tree. While playing with his three sons, Munnu, Chunnu and Jhunnu, in some ways, my closest associates and friends, it was quite ordinary to climb the upper branches (of course from his roof). This we did we utmost regularity and without a hint of boredom, for all of those seven years that our family lived in that mohalla. Munnu's rooftop was the venue for many other sorts of activity. They were migrants from the District of Gaya and spoke a tongue (Magahi) that was slightly different from ours. However, the most dominant language was Bengali, and the language of Bhagalpur was Angika - so a mish-mash prevailed. Or we resolved this linguistic diversity by speaking Hindi. However, the elders in his family addressed us in Magahi and in time my sister and I picked up their tongue and could speak and understand it with ease. Munnu, Chunnu and Jhunnu's paternal uncle (as we said "our own uncle", that is to underline consanguinity of our relationship) was a burly police Inspector and had had a few postings near Bhagalpur and was therefore an occasional visitor to their house. Daroga Sahab, as elders called him, and Chacha, as we did, was a very jovial, and like his brother, our Shatrughan Chacha, absolutely happy-go-lucky. In Munnu's house macho values (fo males) were held in very high esteem and it would not be appropriate to say that Munnu, the senior most amongst us, had put in some effort to put-together a whole private gymnasium at home. There were dumbbells, barbells, wightlifting euipment, arm-curlers, weights of all kinds, bullworkers, chest expanders, and mugdars (a country contraption made of wood) meant to improve shoulder, arm and pectoral muscles. Although below seven years of age, Chunnu, Jhunnu and myself were rather precociously occupied with engaging with such equipment, but pray, what was to keep us from it when we saw Munnu's biceps and pectorals expand so much as to fill-up a room. His Daroga Chacha added to our amazement and a bit of jealousy by asking him to lift and heave this or that and would guffaw and remark "Muunua Ke Bahut Kabu Hai (Munnu has a lot of strength)". That comment was meant as much to egg Munnu on to do some more of his work as to set us afire with the zeal to get similar muscles. That obviously meant that Chunnu, Jhunnu and I had to spend long hours with the irons, often, on winter mornings, on their terrace, when exercises such as dand-baithak (sit-ups, and push-ups) were mixed with merciless sessions with the dumbells and rounded off with power massages (that we gave each other) with mustard-oil. The off-time from such exercises was taken up by looking through a pair of binoculars that Shatrughan Chacha had given Munnu. It was a useful means to suss-out what, if any, roof-top activities our other friends like Sisu and Bhanua were up to. Bored with that we would just climb that tree and talk about Dara Singh. As a way out from these activities like roof-talk, branch-talk (about The Phantom , Tarzan, Superman The Hulk and all other superheroes, given their affinity for tree-hopping as well0 some days we decided to cook our own lunch. Down came the troop and each one of us into their own quarters to fetch rations: onions, vegetables, salt, turmeric, chilli powder, cumin-seeds, garlic, kneaded flour and utensils like the Karahi (wok), ladle, some bricks to put the karahi on, oil to cook, some fuel by way of twigs and saplings that were in abundance in the compound. That would be a merry day. We would not report home for lunch, none of us, we made our own potato-bhaji and rotis and ate it by the glorious tree. If this tree provided and everlasting and non-complaining shelter to us under its branches, delectable fruits and hours of merriment, then Rajib Singh's Vilayati (English) Litchi tree was another one of our haunts. (See Map). Rajib Singh' house was located net to the bara nala (big drain), about five minutes all from our abodes. However, his litchis were a dampener. They never grew beyond a miniscule size nor did they taste like anything on this earth. That, Rajib insisted, was its Vilayati-ness (Englishness). So we thought that must be true, since England is after all a different country and the litchis from there were bound to be different.

The Paurotiwala - the breadman

Amongst the walas, the paurotiwala (or sliced bread, since it was said that sliced bread was made in quantities by many workers kneading the dough with their feet...the paun. this thought remains implanted in my mind to this day, and i have never been able to verify or contradict such an idea to this day) was a regular feature of our mohalla. He carried on his head a wooden box with a see through front. he carried some locally made sliced bread packet in plastic sheets, some locally made biscuits, muffins, and nankhatais, small, again, locally made incredibly sweet pastries, some cup-cakes and very crunchy biscuits of three or four varieties. Unless we had bought our bread from a previous visit to the market the main Bhagalpur Bazaar situiated at the Khalifabagh Chowk, well away from our mohalla, we had to buy from him. He was quite popular in the neighbourhood on account of his biscuits and pastries and had regular patronage especially from the Bengali families.

The Samosa - Rosogullawala

Equally popular was the samosa-rosogullawala. His rounds began at dusk when after our evenings horseplay we were lounging indoors and being pushed towards the bath, a welcome intervention too the samosawalas arrival. An incentive of a hot spicy samosa and two rosogullas was just right to commit oneself to bathing away the days grime. He carried two baskets for the samosas and one tin-can containing the rosogullas and its sweet syrup. Usually, it was Kiron Babu's daughter Runu, who called the services of this wala on a regular basis and since he would be standing nextdoor to us that would be reason enough for us to also grovel, as Runu did with her mother, with our parents to give us money to make the purchase.

The Murhichatwala

Now muri as we all know is puffed rice. murhichat is a process by which the puffed-rice is added with quantities of chilly, green and powder-red, sliced-onions, some brown grams, some sliced tomatoes, sev, salt and shaken and stirred in a tin cup with quantities of mustard-oil that is the olive-oil of the east. the concoction thus prepared has been and shall be the delicacy of millions for a long time to come. the main reason, perhaps, is the eastern liking, nay, craving for chillies.

The Golgappawala

Now the Golgasppa is literally gol (meaning round) like a spahere and is prepapred from crushing and mashing dal (lentils). it delicate outerstructure is penetrated by the thumb and delicious things like mashed potatoes (again diced with chilly, garlic and onions) are introduced into it. it is then dipped into a heavenly fluid called ras and then one golgappa is eaten full one at a time. an average person may consume a few, but for children there is no limit whatsoever.

The Silver-Gold meltwala

This man made his appearance only once in a blue moon. What he did do for a living is to carry quantities of nitric acid with him. This he would pour into a plastic container and dip the gold and silver jewellery of various families into it to provide a quick and sure cleaning from the oxide coating. It as quite magical, at dusk, to see what were black looking blobs emerges shining and sparkling from his tub.

The Mohalla Grocery Shop

We did most of our grocery shopping in the main bazaar of Bhagalpur town. Such visits were doubly a pleasure as it meant a glass of Banarsi lassi for us and a paan or something for the elders. However some small immediate household requirements of sugar, salt, spices had to be met from a dingy little shop lit by a dhibri (a country lamp) where it was often not possible to see anything at all. This is the shop to which the poorer members of the mohalla, or from outside it congregated for their rations. thus it was a good opportunity to hear all sorts of subjects being discussed and in a variety of tongues as business was being transacted from the purchase of grains, salt, turmeric, sugar, mustard oil or any other thing like candles on account of power cuts or no power in that house.

Sitaram - the knick-knacks vendor

Sitaram's shop (see map) was located quite far from the mohalla per se, infact it was located right next to the CMS (Church Missionary Society’s School). His shop therefore had numerous goodies for youngsters, from stationary of all kinds, kites, manjhas, sweets and most importantly pachak a great favorite of ours. However, a visit as far away as Sitaram's required express permission of the elders. the law and oreder situation in bhagalpur was not very good those days and riots and the curfew were amongst the first words that were learnt by any youngster.

On Bengali Festivals

Owing to the profuse presence of Bengalis in our neighbourhood rather a lot of Bengali culture prevailed (basically everything from the cradle to the grave!). Mainly it was marriages, special pujos like the very grand Durga Pujo, the accompanying Jatras at Vani Sangha and the occasional magic show! The kids were all drifters and there would be no event where they were barred entry. Most vividly I remember the Durga Pujo or the navratras as we called it. The nine ratris (or nights of pujas) of Durga (The Demon Slaying Goddess so popular still in Bengal and elsewhere!) the Mahisashuramardini (also the slayer of the demon mahisasura the one who had taken the form of a buffalo). For each one of the ratris we were issued new clothes (as in shirts and half-pants) that we would wear after an early bath in the mornings and then in ones and twos troop-off to the Durgasthan (see map!). The Durgasthan is still a characteristic presence of any and every bengali settlement in the country even today. There was here a usually a huge and very grand statue of the Devi Durga installed every durga pujo. And the loud and laborious incantations of mantras in her worship marked those nine days and nights of worship. Near the durgasthan there would be a mela (festival bazaar) of some street hawkers that would disband a few days after the event. They sold knick-knacks of all kinds, for our purposes there were toy-pistols. The grandest puja was on the nineth-night the night on which according to Hindu legends the Devi let the demon have its comeuppance by chopping-off his buffalo-head. The statues depicted, infact, this particular scene only, the one in which she is either slicing his head-off with a khadag (sword), much blood flowing; or driving a trident (trishul) into his chest. Mahisasura was always shown to be kneeling at the Devi's feet and painted black. On this night the temple would be jam-packed with devotees, the incantations at their highest-pitch, the drums and cymbals crashing at the highest decibels, and onlookers either watching in a religious trance or making small-talk; and there would even be a "cultural programme" as it was called, on the side of which, and despite it, the drums of worship, played by a special group imported, like the statute and the priest, from distant Kolkata.

The Jatra - Theatre

The Bengali Jatras were an intrinsic part of mohalla-life, just as our bengali neighbours trooped-off en masse to any bengali films that would come into the several moview houses - Ashani Sanket, Ghare Baire - were at least two such films that were heavily attended, and one more, that had the song "Shaat Bhai Champa, Jagoree Jagoree..." as I remember the tune to this day on account iof it being sung a lot in our circles in the mohalla. The Jatra was usually played in the compound of a very large house whose owner we do not know of to this day except that they owned one of the movie theatres in town. a small stage would be set-up for the "artists" (who had come from Kolkata) and they would wear dhoti-kurta and enact famous scences from the freedom struggle.

Marriages in the Mohalla

As kids the highest point for our entertainment was to attend mohalla weddings. My clearest memories are those that relate with Bengali weddings especially, since the customs of these marriages were uniquely different from bihari weddings. One significant wedding that I attended was in the House of Shri Kanjilal (right behind our house, see map). Preparations for marriages in the sixties would itself take months and visitors to their house would flood each day of that period of preparation. Came the wedding day, my sister and friends, us all, trooped into Kani Uncle's house and watched all the proceedings as best as possible. There was the groom dressed in pure silk kuta and a very stylish white dhoti, and the women folk sat in the aangan where rituals connected with the bride were in progress. hours alter after gawking at the groom and watching his summer-sweat pour we trooped into the aangan to see Kanji Uncle's daughter dressed in complete red saree and bedecked in fine jewellery. Bengalis tie a white coronate onto the head of both the bride and the groom. there is shubh-dhrishti (fair-view) of each other once the wedding is over. they do not have jaimal like in ours. there is also a periodic sound that accompanying women produce at various points of the rites - that again is meant to hearld the auspicious occassion. it was only much much later at night that we were served glorious bengali dishes the capping glory being the rosogulla with lots of heavely doi and plenty of sugar.

The Mohalla Magic Shows

A part of the Bengali lifestyle were magic shows that were more than frequent, and usually associated with saraswati puja, when a magician from distant kolkata was invited to perform in the mohalla. These shows were absolutely heavenly. They were as awe inspiring as they were funny in the very robust Bengali way. the magician would set somebody's head alight and make tea that was usually served in a cup to the jajman or the host, he would swallow a thread and then pull it out of his neck or his hand, pulled pigeons and rabbit out his hat, flowers, colored kerchiefs were also thus magically produced, and of course my hot favourite show "The Water of India". the latter was basically a tumbler or some vessel that was filled with water before the show and periodically emptied by the magician, but the funny thing was that it would fill-up by itself after each emptying and thus called by that name. Like the waters of India, endless. These magic shows were held late at night and we would be half asleep by the time it got over and barely managed to roll back to our respective abodes.

The Cotton Dhuniya

Bhagalpur had a thriving shopping area and we visited the main bazaar that started from Khalifabagh Chowk till the Bhagalpur Railway Station. This arae housed not only numerous readymade garments shops but also those such a Variety that sold exquisite Sarees and in a seperate section textiles such as cotton, terry-cotton and more luxurios ones like polyester or tweeds for men. The are was therefore full of tailoring-shops as well. There were also more upmarket grocery shops from where we got our colgate toothpaste, talcum powder, hair-oil (very fashionable those days) and various other cosmetic and household requirements requirements. The Mela Store, run by a migrant Punjabi or Sindhi Family was the undisputed King of the Stores, as they sold the upmarket VIP suitcases as weell, but we spread our patronage to many stores on account of having to maintain good relations all around.Dhokania & sons was the most reliable store for cooking appliances. There were not many eating houses or cafeterias in town however Adarsh Jalpangrih made redoutable dosas and their dilbahar barfi was just too good to resist.

The Dhuniya, or the cotton-processor enters the narrative owing to his indispensability for reviving sagging pillows and matteresses. in the 1960s it was not fashionable in our neighbourhood to buy coir and such mattresses. bengalis and biharis alike preferred the cotton ones that are by far more confortable for reclining on. one particular pillow was called a masnad and it was longish, cyclindrical, in shape. these were usually given, in bihari homes, to children that they may clucth them at night, while sleeping-away from their parents. these were called baalishes by the begalis and mimicked in their dolls play.

Come winter, the neighbourhood would be alive with the characteristic twanging sounds of the dhuniya and his machine as he would process the old cotton pillows and matteresses, often by adding some new cotton (that was his main income). his instrument for processing the cotton is a bit of a rarity these days. it was about six or seven feet in length and looked almost like a bow. he also had a mallet. he would place the string of the instrument into old coagulated cotton and then hammer the leather string of his bow with the mallet that would both produce a twang and send the cotton flying in all directions. naturally, that took a lot of effort as the dhuniya would sweat profusely in his few hours of operations per household.

The Annual Melas and the Gemini Circus

The annual circus was held in the field indicated. It was called the Lajpat Park, named after Lala ajpat Rai, the famous freedom fighter who is quite popular in Bihar. From our point of view it was an enormous field and many local children used it for games like football and cricket. The Lajpat Park was host to all the meals (country-fairs) and the annual circus usually the Gemini Circus.

Quite like the Durga Puja such meals and circus were event that could not be missed. Literally bullock-cart-loads of people would pour in from the villages of the district and this created a mystery and magic that was part and parcel of any event in that park. A usual mela could have many things from the room of distorting mirros, the half-snake half-girl girl, the bijli (electricity) girl in whose hands bulbs would glow of their own), the x-ray or skeleton man, the snake-man, the leap-of-death, the bycycle-man (he would ride a bycyle non-stop for two or three days), and the sweets and chaat stall. The circus was best of them all.

Quite like circuses in any other part of the world there would be a big central top were the main events like display of animals, the gymnastics and various other rope tricks, the canonball man, the jokers and the dwarfs were exhibited. Also the well-of-death (in which a man used a motorcycle to go round and round in a transparant metal sphere) was a cheif attraction. Sometimes the well-of-death was moved inside the big-top.

it was sheer mystery how humans could perform trapeze and other gymnastics at such great heights, just as it was more than exciting to roam the circus compound during the off-hours, usually daytime, to get a closer look at the tiger, bears and elephants. the canonball man was usually served as the sweet dish at the end of about a few hours of the circus. a garishly dressed man wearing a pith-helmet and aviator goggles and boots would insert himself into the mouth of a canon and then to great surprise, excitement, and fanfare the canon would boom and he would come out flying like an arrow. It was he who would also make his motorcycle leap off a ramp and land on another placed several meters away.

The Nalas and the Bara Nala - a history of mohalla drains

alongwith being very interested in the developments inside Bhanua's Cauldron we were also mesmerized by the various open drains in the neighbourhood. The mohalla was in a culvert, so that the heavy downpour would create roaring torrents in the drains and all this would exhaust itself into the Bara Nala (the big drain). Shatrughan Chacha';s compound would also fill-up completely with water making it and h drin ideal for boating. I mean for sailing paper-boats. For years, other than the Ganga and the occassional pond, this is the largest body of moving water that we would encounter. Paper boats were usually made of newspapers or school leftovers and the whole gang would chase the boats from its journey throguh the smaller drains into the big one to see whether it sustains or capsizes. that ws fun. quite close to the bara nala was andu-shatu's house. there was one fruit (that they called Kul) that grew only in their compound but they were kind enough to let the kids have a go at the tree to get hold of some Kul. as such their house was very royal and palatial (infront of Kolyan Sen's that was evn bigger and palatial) and was built in the style that bengali zamindars build their houses. sufficient use of yellow and red.

Mount Carmel School

At two something i went riding off to a school named as above run by AC nuns at which location my elder sister was already studying. we were despatched by rickshaw before the school, as yet new, hired buses. the pre-primary or the nursery was as it should have been all fun and games only. at that time the school was housed next to the General Post Office compound of Bhagalpur in a very large premodern building with khapra tiles(country or indian or indigenous tiles that are today considered chique and ethnic). the school had also another modern set of classrooms however the story of the nursery school as always is about wetting pants and roaming and colliding like brownian particles in milk. the memories are all very good and i suppose the purpose with which our parents sent us to this school is to remind us what the future beheld 9at least for my sister and in some measure for me) that is white cassocks of one kind or another. after eating tiffin on some days my sister and i walked back from school which was close enough as the GPO was situated near to the Ghantaghar. At this chowk was located a very large building that was in the path of our short-cut. the very large gates of this white gothic building being wooden were always closed at the time our school gave off. it had a huge metal lock on it but the two doors were alightly ajar due perhaps to age or design allowing a peek inside for the curious. we just saw brilliant colours, after hoisting up using the lock as alever, only to learn much much later that it was stained glass of jesus and mary. the sisters ran a very tight shop and it was customary to get whipped.

Raj Kumar's Nana (Grandfather)

Another character I would definitely like to skecth is the maternal grandfather of my best friend Raj Kumar. Although unlike the Chikna-Rotis I never got the goodies he would ferry for Raj Kumar after court every-day, we were nevertheless apprised of his more than large presence owing to his punctuality. I donot remember if we ever saw him going to the court (he was an advocate!) every morning, but surely we would notice his return, everyday, as he walked back in his white pants, shoes, black coat, his silvery-hair, his dark faded ubrella carrying that little somerthing (mostly rosogullas!) for his dear grandson. we would usually be squatting in Shatrughan chacha's compound playing tops or marbles when he would appear glance just once in our direction and Raj Kumar who had till then been totally engrossed in play would be off for the day like a rocket - shouting "Nana Ji, Hum AAbee Rahal Chiyai".

Shastri Ji's Fast

Some time in the 1960s Lal Bahadur Shastri, the then Prime Minister of India, announced that there was an acute shortage of foodgrains in the country. He suggested, as a measure for tiding the crisis, that each family does not eat grains at least for a day, every week, perhaps for a year. Come the appointed day, perhaps, sundays or other holiday, my mother would remind us that it was that day and we were served roasted peanuts, Kheera (cucumber), bananas, Makhana, and other seasonal fruits. That was just as well since we got to eat a lot of fruits.

Catching Squirrels, Pigeons.

Munnu, chunnu and jhunnu were pastmasters at this art. they have a kind of wok in gaya district that is calle a bargunna (or barahgunwala or the pot that has twelve virtues or functions), usually it was used in their home for kneading flour. the other use of course was for hunting. munnu, the chief and lord (of the muscles) would climb the roof of their bathroom that was removed from the rest of their house and setup this curious gaya district trap. he would lever-up the bargunna with a stick, and the stick would be tied to thread that could be held by the hunter well removed from the sight of the pigeon or squirrel that would walk under the trap and try to get at the grains spread there beforehand. aas soon as that would happen, the string would be pulled, the stick would fall, letting the bargunna cover the hapless creature. squrriels bite quite wildly and fiercely if they are cornered so we would let these off, but pigeons were just right for our roof-top kitchen.

The New Year's Picnic

It was customary for all teachers at Bhagalpur University to celebrate the beginning of a New Year, usually on the first of january which would be a holiday, with great aplomb. The Bhimbandh, Masanjore Dam,
the Kharagpur (Lake) Guest House, or some times the large public garden at barari were our usual choices. Usually two to three families collaborated and some cars would be hired and loaded with supplies like mutton, chicken, rice, spices, sweets, etc and the caravan would be off early morning. The journey was itself a blast. usually munnu, chunnu, jhunnu, raju, and sunil, alogwith myself, would be loaded in a willys jeep, and munnu and sunil would bring their .22 winchester rifles as well so we could do some target practice as well.

masanjore is a very large dam that is located some distance from bhagalpur and its banks provide an ideal location to make a fire (Shatrughan and Indu Chacha alogwith my Father would cook the mutton or chicken while the aunties and my mother would do the pilao), in the duration that the boyas and the girls would be exploring the rocks and boulders near the masanjore river. on one picnic we saw a tribal mortuary remains a little removed from the picnic spot and made a hasty retreat to where the elders were parked.

Bhimbandh was quite another story. here there were hot water springs and a guest house. we would camp in the forest, next to the springs where we could bathe and enjioy ourselves.

the kharagpur lake guest house was very picturesquely surrounded with hills and that large water-body. the Guest House dated to the british period when it was built for R & R of the employees of the India Tobacco Company located at Munger.

i remember one particular picnic at the barari public garden with great delight, when our dear (paternal uncle K.B. Singh) a wing commander with the Indian Air Force joined us with his fsmily and his two sons deepak and vikas. naturally the bengali tola walas could not get their fill discussing jet-fighters and the like. of course he was very jovial.

Proposed topics to be written on:

2. Marbles, tops, Gulli-Danda.
3. Diwali, Holi, Jhulan.
4. The colony during the summer, winter, spring.
5. Bara Nala
6. Gidar Field (The Fox-Field).
7. The Cutcherry.
8. Local movies halls and movies.
9. The Walas: Bhalu (bear), Saanp (Snakes),.
10. Birthdays.
12. Mother's Library.
15. Manik Sarkar Chowk (Square).
16. Adampur Chowk (Square).
19. The forest behind the Anglo-Indian Haveli.
20. Playing at Navjug Vidyalaya.
26. Marriages in the Mohalla (neighbourhood).
32. The house behind Shatrughan Chacha's house.
45. The Kulfi-wala.

Ajay, 2008.

Assessing the significance of women through
Dharma Sastras - as a text:

By

Ajay Pratap
Reader
Depptt. Of History
F.S.S.
BHU

Paper Under Publication by Centre for Women’s Studies, FSS, BHU; not to be cited without author’s permission

e-mail: apratap_hist@bhu.ac.in

Abstract

It cannot be denied that there are several passages in the Dharmasastras (See Kane, 1992, Vol. 1-5) where there are explicit references to women that lead us to some knowledge of their role and status in ancient Indian society, broadly speaking. But, most familiar with this text would know that the allusions to women, in this text, are such that they must be assessed at several levels. The age of the Dharmasastras, unfold largely a rural society, such that the prescriptions given in the corpus, it would seem, are befitting - for women, in the folds of rural life. It is another matter, why for feminist interpretation, the prescriptions of the Dhrmasastras have been regarded as eternal (as in irrevocable), and male-biased, at that. Recent workers in feminist studies argue that we must study these texts with the aim to understand the actual status accorded to women as enshrined in these texts and not on a part or partial reading of the texts (Chandrakala Padia Pers. Comm...) . It, is therefore, important, to assess what the Dharmasasatras say about women in this light. We must not assess what has been said some two thousands of years ago, by the yardstick of what we consider judicious today. In any case, from a historian’s point of view there are several preliminary tests a historical text or corpus must pass before we may assess for one significance or another. With citations from the concerned volumes (1-5) of the History of the Dharmasatras, this paper dwells on how to utilize this text for such benefits, as we desire with regard to understanding the status of women in ancient India. In a text that purports to discuss the mores of ancient Indian society this feature should also be seen at a level that is commonsensical. How can a text of a period be written without any reference to women? The purpose of my paper, is to examine first of all how may we see Dharmasastras as a source? Whether, as it is, we may see this source as any other historical document? If so, then, how so? And if not, then why not? And, in general, how should we see ancient texts?

I. Introduction

I have elsewhere (see Pratap 2003), commented upon the nature of the corpus of our ancient Indian historical texts at length. In this paper, I shall only summarise some of the points made therein, that I hope should enlighten the endeavour of looking at ancient Indian texts with a view to see whether or not positive mention of women have been made there. However, before that a short consideration of the Dharmasastra texts is in order.

II. What is P.V. Kane’s History of the Dharmasastras?

P.V. Kane, we understand was a Maharashtrian orientalist who took pains to study more than 100 of our ancient texts like Manusmritis, Yajnavalkya Smriti, Vishnu Purana, Bhgavata Purana to cull from them the prescriptions with regard to accepted/acceptable social norms and customs, as prevailing in ancient India. At one level then his monumental work, in five volumes, each addressing different aspects of acceptable social behaviour, tries to cast light on what the Hindu shastras say about norms of social behaviour governing social issues like marriage, descent, property, rites and rituals. The dharmasastras in the context of ancient India are also necessarily juridical in nature – as they also discuss ethics, wherein lies its true value.

III. Mention of women in the Dharmasastras

Mention of women in the Dharmasastras are extensive, since P.V. Kane’s History of the Dharmasastras, is published in no less than 5 volumes (see bibliography). For the purpose of this essay we have consulted only selected portions of Vol. 1 wherein according to the index, pages 318, 324 and 327 are the relevant pages in volume I.

In this, the emphasis, according to Kane’s Index is on Stri-Dharma. My other colleagues in this book have ably commented upon the concerns of the other citations of the remaining four volumes.

IV. The Dharmasastras as text: some problems

A. For a historian, the issue of what mention of women or any other group of people, have been made, in that text, presupposes that that particular text or corpus constitute a problem-free (in terms of the locus of writing in that context as well as in terms of its meaning) corpus from a historians’ point of view. This is the first point.

In other words may we read the Dharmasastras or any other ancient text much as we read modern historical documents? In historical par lance I should say that we must not ascribe writing degree zero to any ancient text .

This is of course a notion introduced by Roland Barthes (see bibliography), the French Semioticist , who contributed much to our approach to studying texts. Writing degree zero basically means a situation where the reader of a text accords to the text ad hoc a complete transparency, or bias-free sort of legitimacy.
Writing degree zero means any text that may be supposed to be free from biases arising either from the biases of the writer or that of the other circumstances surrounding the production of a text.

B. The second problem, I think that is relevant to mention, is that the chronology of some of our ancient texts is an issue that is hanging fire. Whether it is the Rg Veda or the rest of the Vedic Corpus, The Epics, or the texts under consideration here; it would be fair to say that we do not have a very precise idea as yet, of what should be the exact chronological bracket into which we may fit each of these texts (See Pratap 2003).

Here my indication of course is towards the date of the composition of a text. We are told by historians that these texts are lacking a single author, that they were composed over centuries. Do the observations of these texts, then, pertain to only one era or several ones telescoped into a single volume.

If it pertains only to one era then again we are on surer grounds, but if it is time wise stratigraphically arranged text, that is the observations of several centuries are layered in it, and then the historiographical problem of interpreting which part of it refers to which period, within the same text, should be most obvious. If indeed the Arthasastra, Yajnavalkya and Narada have been composed over centuries, then the writings within them, pertains to which particular society and what particular time?

As a historian after perusing the Stri-dharma passages I would like to make the following observations: I would suggest that:

1. The safest chronological bracket into which to place the Dharmasastra corpus is from 6th c. B.C. till 3rd c. B.C.
2. The DS does refer to women, but only in the context of discussing Dharma more generally;
3. “Pathak” (or Infringement or Sin or Paap) and “Prayschit’”(redemption or repentance) are the over-arching themes of this work.
4. This is so because from the 6th century BCE till 3rd century BCE, a largely rural society was undergoing transformation, due to agricultural and industrial intensification and greater economic output, into a semi-urban or urban form. This was the age of the 16 great republics or the Sodasamahajanapadas and it is estimated that at the core of each there was a city (in all Jha and Shrimali, 2007) estimate over 60 cities to be existing at this time). City and state-administration was emerging and the Dharmasastras among other texts were intended to provide a Juriprudence from which ever point of view for a society now urban-dwelling and much transformed in the course of these odd three hundred years.

IV. Conclusion

In my view, then, as a historian, at least these two problems, confront us, when we set about looking to the Dharmasastras or any other ancient Indian historical text for what they have to say about women. We have made some suggestions as to how then to view them as a source, for there proper reading to understand the position of women in ancient India.

Bibliography

Barthes, R. 1967. Writing Degree Zero. Translated by Annette Lavers. Jonathan Cape Ltd.

Barthes, R. 1972. Mythologies.Translated by Annette Lavers. Jonathan Cape Limited.

Jha, D.N. and Shrimali, K.M. 2007. Pracheen Bharat Ka Itihaas. Delhi University Hindi Madhyam Karyanvan Nideshalaya, Delhi.

Kane, P. V. History of the Dharamasatras. Uttar Pradesh Hindi Sansthan. Lucknow. 5 volumes.

Pratap, A. 2003. Ethnocentrism in tribal ethno-history. World Archaeological Bulletin. April-May.

Rock Art in Landscape Context; on the footstep of Christpher Tilley.

If space is to be regarded as a medium for action, a resource in which actors draw on in their activity and use for their own purposes, it inevitably becomes value-laden rather than value-free and political rather than neutral. At a higher level of generality it is possible to distinguish between essential characteristics of Western and capitalist ‘spaces’ and non-Western and pre-capital-ist ‘spaces” (Tilley, 1994: 20).

In this regard, Tilley explains his distinction between the two types of spaces he has conceived, following the following criteria:

Infinitely open different densities
Desanctified sanctified
Control sensuousness
Surveillance/partitioning ritualized/anthropomorphic
Economic cosmological
`Useful’ to act `useful’ to think
Architectural forms resemble architecture an embodiment
Each other in `disciplinary’ space of myth and cosmology
Landscape as backdrop to action landscape as sediment ritual form
Time linear and divorced from space time constitutive of rhythms of social action in space-time

Introduction

Given on page 20 of his landmark volume A Phenomenology of Landscape this set of criteria that distinguishes western and eastern or at any rate non-western spaces is greatly imbued with significance for rock art studies in the Indian context.

In the Indian context, rock art studies have scarcely paid attention to such categories of understanding of pre-capitalist/non-western spaces as Tilley gives us and that which we have said are of immense relevance to rock art studies in India.

First of all, I find Tilley’s characterization of pre-capitalist-non-western-spaces very charming and accurate, although, it may be said, that there is the possibility of diversity in perception of landscapes, even within the pre-capitalist-non-western sector; however, let’s not lose the woods for the trees, in giving us these criteria Tilley, albeit very generally, has succeeded to a great extent in characterizing the nature of non-western spaces, most generally. This paper tries to pattern-match the 10 Tilley Criteria, hereafter, TC, by comparing his criteria with such phenomenology of landscape as I have encountered in my fieldwork generally and in the context of Indian rock art.

2. Santal Parganas

Case 1:

Consider this that in the Santal Parganas District Gazetteer from the middle of the 19th century records that the Santals have a strange way of recording distances. At the beginning of a journey they pluck a twig from the Jamun Tree, and when some distance has been covered and the leaves on that twig begin to dry and sag, due to atmospheric or climatic factors, then the Santals would say that they have covered a distance of One Koss. Needless to say, we may say by inference that, in summer’s One Koss would be less than in winter, and in monsoons, this trick would be of no use at all to give us the distance covered. According to me, this confirms Tilley’s hypothesis 7, in the right margin.

Case 2:

Now consider again. The Paharias of Santal Parganas have an origin myth that runs as follows; in the beginning Beddo Gossain created the heaven and earth to people which he sent seven men, all brothers. When their father fell ill and died, they organized a Bhoj (Shraddha or Mortuary Feast) in which they cooked all kinds of meat, fish, poultry, beef and pork.

Depending of which type of meat each one ate, one became a Hindu, one a Musulman, one a Kerateer, one a Bhuiyan (and so on naming some of the ethnic groups of Santal Parganas)...and when the British arrived, then from the fact that they ate all the kinds of meat it was recognized that they were the seventh lost brothers who had gone to distant lands and had then returned.

In my view this confirms Tilley’s hypothesis number 4, in the right margin.

Case 3:

I got to attend Keso Paharia’s wedding; it was the in the month of march. A music system that is a tape-player and a battery-charged loudspeaker were brought from the plains and installed in our village. It belted out Hindi film song numbers all night much like it is done in plains marriages. In the morning a few men played flutes after imbibing Toddy or Tari that is brought down from date palm trees early in the morning and serves as a mild intoxicant. This was all part of the wedding festivities. Some time along the noon the barat (wedding procession sets off to the bride’s village in the hills, Chando Pahari. As I walk along with the group of men women and children who go laughing and singing all the way through the hills I hear talk that the journey would be a few hours. We trek for most of the afternoon and arrive in the bridal village late afternoon. Many stops along the way. At the bride’s village her folks have organized a large dancing fiesta. Hundreds of young drummers and youth throng around most inebriated and dancing to lilting Paharia melodies is in progress. I am ushered into a hut and given something to eat by the bride’s father and family. The dancing and marriage rituals last for most of the day and late in the night along with the married couple we trek back to our village in the dead of the night. I am amazed that while I have to use a flash-light to make my way even the Paharia children may walk barefoot and unhindered through the mountain paths.

This confirms Tilley’s hypothesis no. 3 and 10.

Case 4;

Juanga/Keonjhar

Friends,

Lest this page sound frivolous I would suggest that you access the script of a film called Trobriand Cricket, through the internet. I have myself not seen it on the net as yet. It is a film that records how the game of cricket was adopted and adapted by the local tribes of these islands, when they were banned from warring on each other by the occupying allied forces during the second world war. Thus their version of cricket mimicks a warfare of sorts in which both teams come to the ground richly painted in war colours and heckle, chase and chastize each other during this fascinating version of cricket.

Then as in India, there is street-cricket. In college, we had block-cricket. it was played in the hostel block turf using a wooden chair as the wicket, usually a lot of noise is made so as to attract the attention of a sleepy block-tutor, who usually descends in a foul-mood and disbands the game or bans it altogather.

there was even, at school, a french-cricket. one way to play it is that the batsman stands in the middleof a circlemade by the fielders, and holds the bat face outwards in front of his legs. the ball is pitched-up to him. if he gets caught, then he is out. another version is that there is no bat at all (this one again is played mostly by hostellers) you simply hit a tennis ball against the steps,any steps, if the fielders miss iton the reboud then runs are deemed to be scored...if you hit the ball flush on the edge of a step and it goes shooting-off like a rocket then, as the case maybe, it is either a four or a six.

Then there is book-cricket that has been perfected to an art form by Indian School Students as a measure for boring lectures. Two people, at a time, play the game. The is a copy-book that is used to keep the score. You select a text-book and randomly open its pages. The page number gives you the runs you hit...thus you may score 1,2,4 and 6 runs at a time. the game lasts per lecture and score is tabulated in the recess.

Ajay.

Friends,

The first book I propose to review is a work of fiction. It is called English, August: An Indian story. Upamanyu Chatterji, 1989, Rupa & Co. However, the basic story is that of Augastya a newly appointed Civil Service Officer who finds his first posting as Collector of Madna, a small mofussil town, presumably in Bengal. Unfortunately for young Agastya, who is obviously very urban bred and has seen nothing of the wickets or thickets of the rest of India, Madna, is not exactly the centre of the world. For one who prizes his upper-class upbringing and not to mention education, the betel-chewing, hair-oiled, and safari-suited litterati of Madna are a bit trying. Not for him a breakfast of simple puri-sabji and a nap after that, before catching-up with office and thus going with the flow

The story revolves around his coming to terms with the idiosyncracies of the Indian society and its local elites, not to mention the waywardness of the government.

Ajay, 2008.

Dear Friends,

Have you noticed? lately the Discovery Channel has been showing a series of very interesting, picturesque, accurate and informative series of films called The Story of India. These are produced by The BBC, that has a longheld reputation of informative depth and accuracy on matters Indian...I saw their The End of Empire Series, as a Ph.D. student in England, and now as a teacher, would highly reccommend to my students. Again try the net for clues.

Ajay.

Friends,

In our quest to see how historical period monuments are still in some use by present-day public, we must mention that in a previous visit to Sarnath, 2007, we found that a lot of Buddhist devotees still pay homage (nay pray) at the ancient site. Sarnath was discovered by Alexander Cunnigham in 1868 when it was completely buried under a mound. Then the Archaeological Survey of India, under his direction, excavated the mound. Cunnigham was greatly taken-up with the Si Yu Ki written by Hieun-Tsang that is a memoir of the Chinese monk's travels to places of Buddhist interest in India. Cunnigham followed, through the Si Yu Ki, the entirety of Hieun-Tsang's route of travel and in the process brought to light most of the Buddhist Stupas, Caves etc. that we know of today.

Ajay, 2008.