Photograph by Kamachar Baloch. Sourced by the author
All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts...
--Shakespeare, As You Like It (1623)
In life, certain individuals excel in their roles, leaving a profound impact despite their brief presence, imprint a lasting legacy that resonates long after they depart.
Such an individual was Ghulam Sarwar Baloch, commonly known as Kamanchar Baloch, a devoted photographer who captured the beauty of Balochistan through his photographs. On April 16, 2024, he departed after battling diabetes and tuberculosis.
Baloch was born in 1998 in the home of Anwar Jeehand in the Meeran Goth of Malir, Karachi. His ancestors were from the remote town of Mand in the Kech District of Balochistan. After receiving his primary education in Mand, Kamanchar Baloch enrolled in the Department of English Literature at Benazir Bhutto Shaheed University, Lyari, Karachi in 2020. However, driven solely by his passion for capturing the beauty of Balochistan through his camera lenses, he left his studies incomplete.
Kamanchar Baloch was a dedicated photographer. His unwavering focus was on capturing the beauty of Balochistan’s landscapes with his exquisite photography. It is often said that Kamanchar’s camera wielded a power like a gun, and as a marginalised Baloch himself, he consistently captured the struggles of the Baloch people within society.
Kamanchar’s passion for exploration led him to uncover the many facets of Balochistan: from Mand to Turbat, Turbat to Quetta, Quetta to Bolan, Bolan to Ziarat, Ziarat to Koh-E-Suleman, and beyond. Wherever his travels took him, he captured the scenery through the lens of his camera, embarking on journeys to mountains, bridges, hills, valleys, coastal shores, and encapsulating the beauty of this rugged land.
Photographs by Kamanchar Baloch. Sourced by the author
His photo exhibitions were held in various locations, including Karachi, Quetta, Gwadar, and Turbat. Kamancher not only explored every corner of Balochistan but also worked tirelessly to encourage and support young photographers and artists in appreciating the richness of Baloch heritage, land, and its beauty.
Photograph by Kamachar Baloch. Sourced by the author
Kamanchar’s legacy lives on in the images he immortalised and the voices he amplified. His departure has undoubtedly left a void in Balochistan, orphaning a community that looked to him as a beacon of hope and understanding. As the people mourns the loss of this exceptional artist, his work stands as a testament to the power of art to provoke empathy and incite change. The impact of Kamanchar Baloch’s life and artistry will continue to resonate, inspiring future generations to advocate for the marginalised.
Although Kamanchar passed away early, his legacy lives on through his photographs. He was still young and had much more to contribute to Baloch and Balochistan.
“It was Kamanchar who showed us that photographs will never come to us, but we need to look for them and chase them,” says Baloch filmmaker, Kamalan Bebagr.
May Kamanchar live in his art forever!
Photographs by Kamanchar Baloch. Sourced by the author
Munaj Gul is a lawyer based in Turbat, Balochistan. He tweets @MunajGul
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Moko Jumbies (or stilt walkers in colourful costumes) evolved from an old West African tradition, dating back to 13th-14th century. The tradition became part of American lore two hundred years ago as the plantation owners would import workers from Africa.
ANTICIPATION
I watch out my condo window this winter, packing up and leaving for spring. I structure myself in a dream as Moko Jumbie, masquerader on stilts. I lean out my balcony window in anticipation. Dead branches, snow paper-thin, brown spots, shared spaces. A slug of Skol vodka, a glass of cheap sweet Carlo Rossi rose red wine. I wait these last few days out. That first robin, The beginning of brilliance— crack, emerald dark, these colours.
Michael Lee Johnson is a poet in the greater Chicagoland area, IL. He is an internationally published poet in 46 countries, a song lyricist, has several published poetry books. He is editor-in-chief of 3 poetry anthologies, all available on Amazon, and has several poetry books.
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Bitan Chakraborty’s TheBlight and Seven Short Stories, translated by Malati Mukherjee from Bengali, heralds the arrival of a major talent in the sphere of short fiction, characterised as it is by an evolved narrative technique that raises the art of storytelling to a new pitch of intensity and subtlety.
The image of blight in the first and titular story is a metaphor that pervades the entire collection. Blight, as one knows, is an agricultural phenomenon, a term for a type of disease that affects crops and ruins harvests. In Bitan Chakraborty’s superb collection of stories, it symbolises the rot that has set in everywhere, the moral corruption that is eating away at the innards of society.
Characters such as Asesh, Neeladri, Karmakar and others are shown to have no conscience or scruples. They have little faith in the system and, therefore, have taken the law into their own hands, forging unholy alliances, negotiating shortcuts and demonstrating scant respect for traditional decencies. They are men in a hurry, eager to get rich quickly. Part of the local land-grabbing mafia and real estate “syndicate”, they are members of what Partha Chatterjee has described in his writings as a “political society.”
An evocative use of symbol and irony imparts a rhetorical depth to the conflicts enumerated. In the titular story, ‘The Blight’, for instance, the all-devouring, predatory and carnivorous instincts of Asesh are set against his father Moni’s ethics of integrity. Moni’s investigative methods intensify in the course of the story as he compulsively enquires about the prices of potato and potato products in a bid to assess the extent of Asesh’s deceitful dealings, his acts eventually spiralling into the surreal tableau at the end when father and son are locked in a physical struggle. Asesh’s relishing of his mutton just prior to this incident is an analogical and allegorical master stroke pointing to his material gluttony, insatiable appetite and ruthless self-gratification.
In the story. ‘The Site’, Neeladri, the son and Nalinaksh, the father are counterparts of Asesh and Moni, undergoing the same conflicts and revealing similar differences of opinion and values. Nalinaksh, however, is not untainted like Moni, neither is he impervious to the good life. It’s just that he cannot brook the scale of corruption indulged in by Neeladri. Is his end foreshadowed and pre-planned as seems to be suggested by the funeral card dropped surreptitiously in Hari’s bag?
In the short story ‘Reflection’, Ahan the Bengali protagonist, who is a vocal protester against habitual acts of indiscipline and injustice on trains, unwittingly indulges in the same, displaying disproportionate anger at an errant co-passenger for a minor infringement. The figure he is confronted by at the end of the story points to the ambiguity of his very being. Is this figure a self-reflection, an alter ego, or a doppelganger?
In ‘A Day’s Work’ and ‘The Mask’, it is Mahadeb, the debt-ridden and exploited daily wager, and Puntu, the suburban mask-seller who are manipulated by Karmakar, the jeweller-turned-moneylender and Shubho, the stage manager turned middleman respectively. In the latter story, the mask becomes a potent symbol of disguise used by perpetrators to conceal their wrongdoings. Shubho hides his questionable dealings in props as a theatre manager even as Neel conceals his affair with his office secretary.
In the story ‘Landmark’, Tapan goes to Delhi for work and decides to visit his friend Jashar in Ghaziabad. He sets out on the journey but fails to reach his destination because the landmark known to him has disappeared. His aborted journey becomes a symbol of the frustrated quest of modern man who fails to progress despite registering movement. One is reminded of the hapless souls trapped in the different circles of hell in Dante’s Inferno, even as shades of Joyce’s Dubliners are evident in the circling of Lenehan within the city of Dublin in the short story ‘Two Gallants’.
The landmark in question, namely two adjacent butcher’s shops at the mouth of a lane, had fallen prey to fundamentalist ire over the meat-eating habits of certain communities. The story has not so much a climax as an anticlimax in the revelation of the convenience store owner who enlightened Tapan about the fate of the owners of all such establishments in the area — they had been chopped into mincemeat and fed to unsuspecting patty consumers. This is gallows humour of the most effective kind and is directed at Tapan whose mouth is filled with the particular savoury at that moment.
In ‘Spectacles’, Siddharth has been wearing the wrong pair of spectacles and consequently not seeing things clearly. The trope of a skewed perspective is evident in his youthful misjudgment of Sameerda to have been a man of ideals. In ‘The Site’, Nalinaksh cannot understand what the beggar down below on the street is telling him so urgently just moments before his fall from the balcony and subsequent death, symbolizing a lack of communication.
Historically, ‘blight’ was a sociological term applied to urban decay in the first half of the twentieth century. Usually associated with overcrowded, dilapidated and ill-maintained areas affecting built structures and civic spaces, the term has this palpable air of dereliction which, translates into a pall of moral disrepair that dooms the situations in the mentioned stories with an inevitability, reinforcing the significance of the title in its varied connotations.
In an epical sense, the conflict in the stories is between the forces of good and evil. It is also between social classes, and Moni comes across as the tired torchbearer of a jaded idealism whose dedication to his cause is regarded by some as whimsicality, so ingrained and ubiquitous is the sense of blight. The moral protesters in Moni, Nalinaksh, Ahan, Subal and others, for all their integrity, are shown to be largely ineffectual in their opposition to venality. Nevertheless, they are entirely credible within the ambit of their operations.
Immoral and illegal activities, found in almost every story in the collection, yield a cumulative effect in the final story, ‘Land’, where an entire village, having fallen prey to unscrupulous land appropriation, lies desolate and ghostly. The poignant reality of dispossession is brought home most vividly in the isolation of the young bride-turned-widow, Manasa, who, by the end of the story, spends her days gazing at her husband’s burial site from her window.
Real estate is not only a veritable canker but almost a narrative device in its variations and applications in this clairvoyant cluster of stories. It is one’s native soil and eventual resting place (‘Land’); dream or fantasy (Mukto’s in ‘The Blight’); make-believe space of the theatre in ‘The Mask’ and the rough and tumble of property dealings in ‘The Site’, ‘Spectacles’ and of course, the titular story.
The modernistic slant of the collection is expressed with objectivity without authorial interventions and, consequently, the lack of any judgemental attitude. Yet, Chakraborty successfully suggests there is no law and order, justice or tolerance in contemporary society, only a wide chasm between the haves and the have-nots which is aggravated with every passing day as he repeatedly portrays ordinary people as having no rights, voice or means to fight the corrupt.
He does this with postmodern techniques of flux, erasure and revision. Nothing is permanent, and the provisional truth of the moment is glimpsed through opposites, overlaps, continuities and breaks. A case in point would be the friction between different kinds of betrayal as in ‘Spectacles’ — Sameer-da’s wife had discovered an indifferent and unhelpful side to Siddharth’s nature even as the latter believed Sameer-da to have been what he was actually not.
In ‘The Blight’, the space between the contesting narratives of deliverance and deviance, the first pertaining to Monì and the second to Asesh holds the developing interest of the story within its escalating spiral. Between realism and surrealism, in the same story lies the flitting apprehension of the truth of Asesh’s character as he tears into the flesh of an animal while enjoying his Sunday lunch of mutton and rice.
The meanings of Chakraborty’s stories cohere in the consequences of both commission and omission. In ‘Land’, for instance, momentous developments such as the death of Subal are scarcely mentioned, modernistically enacting the crisis through structure and style. The piece seems to be caught in a curious aesthetic apathy in which gaps and ellipses in the mode of narration express the emptiness at the heart of Manasa’s life and those of others like her.
The translation helps through the fluid grace with which it transliterates, transcribes and transcreates the stories from one language to another, all the while trying to retain the nuances of the root culture. This same culture is sought to be portrayed through two languages with very different socio-cultural associations, the first being the original Bengali in which it was composed and the second a colonial legacy notably indigenised. Malati Mukherjee has a keen ear for voice, accent and dialect, which aids her in effecting an authentic idiomatic equivalence, at once elucidating and engaging.
Two passages stand out for the haunting beauty of their description. One is the spectacular reference to the world’s oceans and forests contained in the aquarium and the balcony garden in ‘The Blight’, and the other is the luminous lambency of the moon in ‘Land’ as it broods over the melancholy landscape. Bitan Chakraborty’s stories in this collection are rare blooms depicting a moral topography in torpor where character, setting and style intersect to create points of extraordinary insight.
Dr Ajanta Paul is a poet, short story writer and literary critic. She is currently the Principal at Women’s Christian College, Kolkata. Her publications include a book of poetic plays — The Journey Eternal; a collection of short stories — The Elixir Maker and Other Stories; a book of literary criticism — American Poetry: Colonial to Contemporary; three books of poems — From the Singing Bowl of the Soul: Fifty Poems, Beached Driftwood and Earth Elegies.
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Something has been broken Some other has been torn I feel a rush in my veins There are drops of sweat over my forehead My eyes are drowsy Body feels weak My legs are trembling I’m bleeding
The blood’s flowing Between my thighs I don’t know from where I’ve got cut But I know This blood, my blood Is not the product of wars Of violence and hatred It signifies life Of theirs and mine
I bleed, and they don’t But they talk of equality And get silent on differences Of uniqueness of the women and queer-kind Some of us bleed every month Others are made to bleed because they love all colours Rests of us are mothers They give birth to babies in a pool of blood
But at the sight of it They turn faces, they curse us Are they scared of our blood? Or are they blind?
And then comes that blood Which is celebrated worldwide The blood of outcastes, enemies, powerless And those who don’t fit in the binaries The blood with which borders are drawn The blood for which forests are burnt And wars are fought and lost countries are bombed Management of this blood becomes the State affair Like development And amid all this We bleed for life
Anjali Chauhan is a feminist researcher, journalist, and writer based in India. She is currently pursuing a doctoral degree in Political Science at the University of Delhi and working with BehanBox, a feminist media website, as a consultant.
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Ratnottama Sengupta in conversation with Sohini Roychowdhury, who uses dancing to build bridges across cultures
“Meet my daughter Sohini,” Uma Di was introducing the dancer who then lived in Madrid. And my first response was, “Why isn’t she in the movies?!”
Sohini Roy Chowdhury. Courtesy: Sohini Roy Chowdhury
Tall, fair, lissome, agile, Sohini Roychowdhury is the stuff beauty queens and show stoppers are made of. That wasn’t surprising: after all, Uma Roychowdhury herself is the picture of perfection in aesthetics.
It didn’t take me long to realise that, much like the well regarded sculptor’s bronzes, her daughter too was made of enduring stuff. One day she was teaching Bharatanatyam to French, Spanish, and Italian enthusiasts. The next day she was lecturing on mythology in New York. One day she was dancing to ‘Jai Ho![1]’ for the director of the Oscar winning Hollywood movie[2]. Another day she was delineating Durga in an Anthropology Museum…
None of these saw her run out of breath. Nor does she, ever, run out of time. When she’s not holding her fingers in a dance mudra, she is holding a metaphoric pen. This month she unveiled her second book, Dance of Goddess Kali. Yes, she has rings on her fingers and bells on her toes — and wherever she goes, there’s dance on the cards!
Here is what she had to say when I spoke to her:
The Dance of Kali follows Dancing with the Gods. How are the two books different?
Dancing With the Gods and The Dance of Kali are two distinct works, each focusing on different aspects of my artistic and spiritual journey.
Conceived by Monideepa Mukherjee and Sutapa Sengupta, featuring photos from Sohinimoksha
Dancing With the Godsis a pictorial, coffee-table book stemming from my journey as a classical Indian dancer with a multinational dance troupe. Its vivid visuals showcase my onstage performances and behind-the-scenes moments. These are highlights of my career as a dancer, both solo and with Sohinimoksha World Dance and Communications[3].
This visually captivating book focuses on imagery and aesthetics. It offers glimpses into my artistic expression through dance, celebrates my journey around the world, and highlights my life-mantra of connecting civilisations through my craft. This tracing of Sohinimoksha’s journey is for a broader audience: Indian dance enthusiasts, art lovers, and individuals interested in my achievements. The aim is to inspire through visually compelling storytelling.
In contrast, The Dance of Kali is a treatise on the ethos of Goddess Kali and Shaktism. It delves into the deeper spiritual and philosophical aspects associated with the goddess, exploring Kali’s symbolism, mythology, and significance within the context of Shaktism, a Hindu tradition of worshiping the divine feminine energy. The tone of this work is contemplative, as it delves into the profound symbolism and the spiritual aspects associated with the Goddess. It incorporates scholarly research, analysis, and interpretations from various perspectives. Hopefully it offers readers a deeper understanding of Kali’s significance in Hindu spirituality.
May I point out here that The Dance of Kali is not a religious book. It is for readers with a specific interest in Hindu mythology, spirituality, or the myths and legends around the resident Goddess of Kolkata. Those seeking a deeper understanding of Kali’s symbolism and philosophical underpinnings within the context of Shaktism, will find this book dispels disrespectful misrepresentations and unfounded Western misconceptions surrounding the images of Kali as a demonic goddess.
To sum up: both the books reflect different facets of my artistic and spiritual journey. However, they differ significantly in their subject matter, focus, tone, and intended audience. One celebrates my achievements as a dancer through captivating visuals. The other is an academic tome exploring the profound symbolism and spirituality associated with Goddess Kali.
What prompted you, an international dancer, to pick such a rooted in mythology subject?
I have always had a personal affinity with or inclination towards Goddess Kali. Many artistes draw inspiration from their own beliefs, experiences, and cultural backgrounds when choosing subjects for their work. I am no different. For me the depiction of the Goddess is an opportunity for artistic exploration. Kali, with her complex symbolism and multifaceted persona, offers rich material for creative interpretation through the arts, be it dance, literature or visual arts.
This book also celebrates India’s rich mythological heritage and the way it connects to other ancient cultures, in Mesopotamia, Egypt, Spain and France. Kali, with her global soul sisters Ishtar or Sara La Kali, holds significant cultural and religious importance, not just in Hinduism, but other cultures as well, particularly within the contexts of worshipping Mother Goddesses. I delve into Kali’s mythology and symbolism to honour this aspect of Indian life, and its universal resonance.
Yes, Goddess Kali is rooted in Indian mythology. But the themes she embodies — feminine power, transformation, and liberation —transcend cultural boundaries. I hope this book will serve to explore universal themes of empowerment and spirituality. It also aims to provide a deeper understanding of Hindu mythology, and the symbolism associated with the Dark Goddess. Effectively I seek to promote intercultural dialogue and foster greater appreciation for diverse religious traditions. Most significantly, I hope to dispel the uneducated interpretations of Kali as a horrific, savage, demonic goddess. How often she is typecast as a symbol of evil — in popular Western films, books and even as Halloween costumes for disrespectful celebrities like Heidi Klum!
I have witnessed your performance as Durga in an anthropology museum in Madrid. I have noted your commitment to meaningful, even profound themes in your endeavours. What has been your grooming in dance?
I started dancing at a young age under renowned Bharatanatyam Guru, Thankamany Kutty. Later I learnt from Kalamandalam Venkitt in Kolkata. I received rigorous training in Bharatanatyam, the dance that originated in the temples of Tamil Nadu. My dedication to classical art led me to delve deep into its nuances. I mastered intricate footwork, expressions, and storytelling techniques. Over the years, I refined my technique and expression through consistent practice and performance and came to embody the essence of Bharatanatyam.
Your father was a renowned sitarist living in Germany. Your mother is a reputed sculptor of Kolkata. Why did you, an only child, not take to any of these streams of creative expression?
Indeed I was born into a family of accomplished artists. My father, Pandit Subroto Roychowdhury was a renowned sitarist, and my mother, Uma Roychowdhury, is a reputed sculptor. But I chose a different path for myself.
As an only child, I was exposed to various forms of creative expression. But my passion for dance was ignited after watching a riveting performance by Yamini Krishnamurthy when I was about four years old. While I deeply respect my family’s artistic legacy, I followed my own calling and embarked on a journey to carve my niche in the world of dance.
What are the values you have imbibed from them individually?
My father’s sitar schools in Germany have produced hundreds of students — including distinguished sitar players. From him I imbibed a profound appreciation for music and rhythm. I learned discipline, dedication, and the importance of perseverance in mastering an art form. From my sculptor mother I inherited a keen love for aesthetics and eye for details. I learned the importance of expressing emotions and stories through visual and performing arts.
Together these values have steered me towards excellence and innovation in my journey as a dancer and communicator.
Mixed genre performance by Sohini Roychowdhury. Courtesy: Sohini Roy Chowdhury
You have lived in Moscow and Madrid. You are guest professor in far-flung Universities, in America and Columbia. You have danced Bharatanatyam and you have danced to Jai ho! at the premiere of Slumdog Millionaire. What have you gained through your international exposure?
My international exposure has enriched me both personally and professionally. Living in cultural environments as diverse as Moscow and Madrid have broadened my perspectives and deepened my understanding of global arts and communication.
More than 2000 students have ‘graduated’ through my two dance schools in Spain — Casa Asia and Sohinimoksha Artes de la India. In Moscow, more than 80 Russian students performed with me on stage at the Embassy of India and Nehru Centre at the end of their course. As a guest professor in universities across Europe, USA and Latin America, teaching dance, Natyashastra [theory of dance] and Indology, I have not only shared my expertise — I have learnt from students, artistes and scholars from different backgrounds.
Through my performances of Bharatanatyam, and collaborations with international artists, have bridged cultural divides. My dancing to Jai Ho! at the European premiere of Slumdog Millionaire showcased the universal appeal of Indian dance and music. It highlighted its ability to connect with people across borders. Today I can confidently claim to have promoted cross-cultural exchange globally.
Coming from an aristocratic, old Calcutta background, what merit do you see in Bollywood dancing?
Despite coming from an aristocratic background rooted in old Calcutta, I recognise the merit in Bollywood dancing which has become a global phenomenon. Not surprising. For, characterised by vibrant energy, expressive movements, and fusion of multiple dance styles — from Salsa to Tango, Twist to ChaChaCha – Bollywood dancing holds mass appeal. It serves as a platform for artists to showcase their talents to diverse audiences and has contributed to the popularization of Indian culture worldwide. It is rooted in traditional Indian dance forms, yet embraces modern influences. And it reflects the evolving tastes of contemporary audiences.
Since the 1960s, Bollywood has drawn inspiration from various musical traditions across the world. This imparted its films a rich tapestry of global influences. This fusion of world music and dance enriched the aesthetic of Bollywood — and in turn contributed to its cultural significance and global appeal.
In the 1960s, Indian cinema underwent a transformation with the emergence of filmmakers like Guru Dutt and Raj Kapoor, who infused their films with elements of Western music and dance. The most iconic example of this is seen in the song Mera joota hai Japani [my shoes are Japanese] from Shree 420 (1955): here Raj Kapoor’s character sings about wearing Japanese shoes, English pantaloons, and Russian caps — all of which symbolised the growing influence of the West in post-colonial India. And yet, as the song stresses, at core these films are Hindustani — Indian.
Throughout the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s, the industry witnessed the rise of dance and music directors who played a pivotal role in incorporating world music and dance forms into Hindi cinema. Composers like OP Nayyar, Shankar Jaikishan, SD Burman, C Ramachandran, Kalyanji Anandji, RD Burman, Laxmikant-Pyarelal, and Bappi Lahiri experimented with disparate musical styles. These ranged from rock-n-roll, rumba, flamenco to disco, reggae and jazz. This infused their compositions with international flavours.
Similarly, choreographers Sohanlal, PL Raj, Herman Benjamin, Suresh Bhatt, Saroj Khan, Chinni and Rekha Prakash, Shiamak Davar, Farah Khan, Remo D’Souza, Terence Lewis, Vaibhavi Merchant, and Prabhu Deva have blended Indian classical dance with Western styles. This has created the unique dance style that is now identified as Bollywood dancing. It has homogenised movements from hip-hop to salsa and contemporary dance.
Soon stars like Shammi Kapoor, Helen, Asha Parekh, Hema Malini, Rishi Kapoor, Mithun Chakraborty, Jeetendra, Govinda, Hrithik Roshan, Madhuri Dixit, and Sridevi became synonymous with Bollywood’s larger-than-life dance numbers. For, it showcased their versatility and flair for different dance steps. Embracing the twist and turn era of the ’60s to the disco craze of ’70s and the hip-hop-inspired moves of the 2000s, Bollywood stars captivated audiences with their energy and charisma.
Along with Western influences, Bollywood also drew from traditional Indian dances. Its choreography incorporated elements of Bharatanatyam, Kathak, and Odissi. Dance sequences like Dola Re Dola from Devdas (2002) and Pinga from Bajirao Mastani (2015) exemplify the fusion of classical and contemporary dances, blending intricate footwork with dynamic movements and expressions.
In recent years, Bollywood has continued to evolve, reflecting the changing tastes and preferences of global audiences. Directors, like Sanjay Leela Bhansali and Farah Khan, have pushed the boundaries of traditional filmmaking, creating visually stunning spectacles that showcase the diversity of world music and dance. Stars like Priyanka Chopra, Deepika Padukone, and Ranveer Singh have embraced this eclectic mix of styles, bringing their own unique interpretations to the screen.
Spanish, Bulgarian and other European dancers from my own troupe, Sohinimoksha World Dance, have performed specially choreographed fusion dance items set to popular Bollywood tracks. Kristina Veselinova danced toMere Dholnafrom Bhool Bhulaiya; Violeta Perez and Lola Martin to Senorita! from Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara and Maria Sanz on Padmavat’s Ghoomer on stages across India and the world. So I readily acknowledge the significance of Bollywood dance in preserving India’s cultural heritage while adapting to changing times.
Would you say our films are taking our dance traditions to votaries abroad? Just as Indian musicians of the 1960s had taken our ragas to the West?
In the 1960s, Ravi Shankar, Ali Akbar Khan and other maestros played a crucial role in initiating the West in the rich notes of Indian classical music — and that had enriched the global cultural landscape. My own father, Pandit Subroto Roychowdhury, spent more than 40 years in Germany and other European countries, spreading and popularising Indian classical music through concerts and classes. Today Indian films, particularly Bollywood, are carrying forward this legacy. They are showcasing the wealth that is Indian dance — often fused with world dance influences. Just as our musicians shared the wealth of ragas with the West, Bollywood films are spreading the infectious exuberance of Indian dance to enthusiasts around the globe. This is fostering cultural exchange on an international scale. Small wonder that Bollywood is now acknowledged as India’s most potent soft power.
What, in your opinion, is needed to make GenNext learn from our past traditions?
If we want GenNext to learn from our past traditions, we must provide them with comprehensive exposure to our rich cultural heritage. For this, we must integrate our arts and cultural practices into educational curricula. We must foster appreciation through interactive experiences — workshops, performances, cultural events. Additionally we must leverage modern technologies and platforms to disseminate information. Let’s make traditional arts more accessible and engaging for the young. Let’s cultivate mentorship programs and intergenerational exchanges. For, we must bridge the gap between past traditions and contemporary lifestyles, to ensure their relevance and continuity for the generations to come.
Sohini I have seen you at close quarters, as a mother, wife, daughter, and daughter-in-law even as you criss-cross the world for your dance. How do you still find time to write, which is such a demanding, reflective expression?
I am fortunate to be able to balance my roles as a mother, wife, daughter, daughter-in-law, and a performing artiste. My experience as much as my dedication to my craft honed my time-management skills. Despite crisscrossing the world for performances, lecture tours, and other professional commitments, I carve out time to write, for I recognise its significance as a reflective form of expression.
To effectively manage my time, I set priorities, create schedules, and maximize productivity during the available windows of time. I designate specific periods for writing, be it early mornings, late evenings, or during travel downtime. I try to integrate writing into my daily routine, seizing moments of inspiration and reflection to jot down ideas or draft passages.
My passion for writing is a driving force — it motivates me to make time for it amidst my busy schedule. Writing provides a creative outlet for introspection, and intellectual exploration. It complements my artistic endeavours and enriches my personal and professional growth.
I am grateful for the support I receive from the network of my family, friends, and collaborators. They play a crucial role in facilitating my writing pursuits. My latest book, The Dance of Kali, was co-written with my son Rishi Dasgupta, an Economics MSc from the University of St Andrews, UK.
However, at the end of the day, that I find time to write amidst my multifaceted life, reflects my passion for engaging in reflective expression. Because? It contributes to my holistic development as an artist and an individual.
[1] A song from the 2008 Bollywood movie, Slumdog Millionaire
[3] A dance troop started by Sohini Roychowdhury with presence in Madrid, Berlin and Kolkata
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Ratnottama Sengupta, formerly Arts Editor of The Times of India, teaches mass communication and film appreciation, curates film festivals and art exhibitions, and translates and write books. She has been a member of CBFC, served on the National Film Awards jury and has herself won a National Award.
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Portraits of Tagore by his nephew, Abanindranath Tagore (1871-1951)
Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941) has a unique place in many lives. His works continue to impact us. His songs continue to feel relevant. It is not easy to grasp him in totality, to comprehend how he towered over divisive constructs created by humans with his work at Sriniketan and Santiniketan, funded eventually by his Nobel Prize money that poured in with his writings. We all unite not just under the umbrella of his writings and wisdom, but also seek solutions from his life and times — a period of dynamic changes, a renaissance. Can we find these answers? Is it to be found in the breeze that wafts across boundaries at war… or in an eternity where he continues to touch hearts…
For many of us who have not grown up listening to Tagore songs and know of him as a distant figure, here is an attempt to bring his life to you starting with the naming of the infant Rabindranath — reimagined by Aruna Chakravarti, to his first trip out of his cloistered home in Jorsanko and his first experience of snow as he went to study in England — both translated from his writings by Somdatta Mandal. We have a transcreation of a poem he wrote celebrating his birthday on pochishhe boisakh where he shares the joy of his birth with all of us. We wind up translations with Ratnottama Sengupta’s rendition of a song where he offers his lyrics to all those who are willing to listen.
Showcasing the current relevance of Tagore is a brief musing from Sengupta. To relate the wonder of Tagore’s lyrics, we have writings from professor Fakrul Alam and Asad Latif, who contend how Tagore continues evergreen…
Birth
The Naming of Rabindranath: Aruna Chakravarti shares how he chanced upon the name Rabindranath in this excerpt from Jorasanko. Click here to read.
Joys of Living
Himalaya Jatra ( A trip to Himalayas) by Tagore, has been translated from his Jibon Smriti (1911, Reminiscenses) by Somdatta Mandal from Bengali. This records his first trip out of Jorasanko as a teenager. Click here to read.
Baraf Pora (Snowfall) by Rabindranath Tagore, gives a glimpse of his first experience of snowfall in Brighton and published in the Tagore family journal, Balak (Children), has been translated from Bengali by Somdatta Mandal. Clickhereto read.
Pochishe Boisakh (25th of Baisakh), a birthday poem by Tagore(1922), has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty. Click here to read.
Bhumika (Introduction) by Tagore has been translated from Bengali by Ratnottama Sengupta. Click here to read.
Professor Fakrul Alam muses on the impact of Tagore in his life. Click here to read.
Portrait of Tagore by Jamini Roy (Indian Artist, 1887-1972)Portrait of Tagore by Xu Beihong ( Chinese Artist, 1895-1953)
Celebrate Tagore’s legacy not only with translations but with a unique discussion on Tagore between Aruna Chakravarty and the late Sunil Gangopadhyay (1934-2012). The discussion took place under the auspices of Sahitya Akademi during the celebration of 150 years of Tagore. The book is available online on Amazon, in Om and more bookstores in India and in Bookworm, Bangladesh.
Genu stood where she was as though rooted to the ground. Her eyes were fixed on the masses of gold and gems that hung from Sarada’s neck and trailed down her vast bosom. Her ears were filled with the jingling from the rows of bangles that encased her mother-in law’s fat arms as she put the finishing touches to her daughter’s toilette. Then the girl turned and walked away.
As soon as she reached the door she started running. Stuffing the end of her sari into her mouth, willing the lump to stay stuck in her throat, she ran like a wild thing down the gallery towards her room. Suddenly, she heard a cry and her feet stopped. She stood nonplussed for a moment. Where had the cry come from? From within her? Had the pain she had tried so hard to suppress burst out of her chest in a wail so bitter? So piteous? Then she pulled herself together. Of course not. It was her mother-in-law’s newborn baby crying. A boy two months and twenty days old…
Following the direction of the sound, she came to a tiny room adjoining the birthing chamber. The room was dark and the child lay, all alone, on a narrow bed. There was no sign of the wet nurse or of anyone else. Everyone was busy enjoying the wedding. Lifting the baby in her arms, she felt something flow out of him, something that warmed and comforted her. They were of a kind, she thought. Both alone. Both unloved. She remembered what Subhankari had told her some days after the child was born. Though she had given birth to a boy, Sarada, she had said, was rather disappointed.
‘He’s ugly.’ Sarada had muttered, looking askance at her newborn.
‘He’s not ugly at all’ Subhankari had retaliated indignantly. ‘You’re too fussy, Saro.’
‘Well he’s certainly darker than my other children. And look at his cars. How big they are! And how they stick out!’ Instructing the midwife to bathe him in milk, she had turned over on her side and gone to sleep.
But what neither Subhankari nor Genu knew was that Debendranath had sent for Anandachandra Vidyabagish soon after the birth and asked him to prepare the little one’s horoscope as he had done for all the other children. And, a few days later, Anandachandra had burst into the baar mahal, his mouth stretched in an exultant grin. ‘An outstanding conjunction of planets! he had cried. ‘A birth like this happens once in hundreds of years. This child’s sun is so strong – he will dazzle the world with the light of his genius.’
Debendra had smiled. ‘A good thing,’ he had said. ‘One of my tasks has been simplified. I’ve been racking my brains to find a suitable name for the boy. Since he was born on a Monday, it could have been Somendranath but that, as you know, has already been taken. Now that you say his sun is so strong, I shall name him Rabindranath. But your calculations had better be correct, Ananda. I don’t want you coming to me with a long face, confessing you bungled them.’
(Excerpted from Jorasanko by Aruna Chakravarti, published by HarperCollins India)
About the Book:
In a sprawling novel that spans a unique phase in the history of Bengal and India, Aruna Chakravarti provides a fascinating account of how the Tagore women influenced and were in turn influenced by their illustrious male counterparts, the times they lived in and the family they belonged to. Jorasanko mirrors the hopes and fears, triumphs and defeats that the women of the Tagore household experienced in their intricate interpersonal relationships, as well as the adjustments they were continually called upon to make as daughters and daughters in law of one of the most eminent families of the land. ‘In her meticulously researched novel, Aruna Chakravarti has successfully re-created for the reader the world inside the Tagore home, at once glittering and fascinating, but also dark and challenging. The women of the Tagore family who are at the heart of this novel are complex beings who will raise many questions in the modern reader regarding the role of women in today’s society’, Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, author of Palace of Illusions and One Amazing Thing.
About the author:
Aruna Chakravarti had been the Principal of a prestigious women’s college of Delhi University for ten years. She is also a well-known academic, creative writer and translator with seventeen published books on record. They comprise five novels, two books of short stories, two academic works and eight volumes of translation. Her first novel The Inheritors (published by Penguin Random House) was shortlisted for the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize and her second, Jorasanko (published by HarperCollins India)received critical acclaim and also became a best seller. Daughters of Jorasanko, a sequel to Jorasanko, (HarperCollins India) has sold widely and received rave reviews.Her novel Suralakshmi Villa, published by Pan Macmillan Ltd under the Picador imprint, has been adjudged “Novel of the year (India 2020)” by Indian Bibliography published in The Journal of Commonwealth Literature U.K. Her latest work, The Mendicant Prince, a semi-fictional account of the Bhawal legal case, was released by Pan Macmillan Ltd, in July this year to widespread media coverage and acclaim. Her second book of short stories Through a Looking Glass: Stories has just been released by Om International Ltd.
Her translated works include an anthology of songs from Rabindranath Tagore’s Gitabitaan, Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay’s Srikanta and Sunil Gangopadhyay’s Those Days, First Light and Primal Woman: Stories. Among the various awards she has received are Vaitalik Award, Sahitya Akademi Award and Sarat Puraskar.
She is also a script writer and producer of seven multi- media presentations based on her novels. Comprising dramatised readings interspersed with songs and accompanied by a visual presentation by professional artists and singers, these programmes have been widely acclaimed and performed in many parts of India and abroad.
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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL
Once more, Ratnottama Sengupta explores the contemporariness of Tagore ….
In empathy with Kolkata’s heatwave in April 2024
The continuing heatwave in Kolkata that has defied the geographical reality of Kaal Baisakhi — the norwester that brings relief to sun-scorched beings — prompted me to continuously hum this Tagore song in Brindavani Sarang Raag, written in 1922.
Darun Agni Baaney Re... (Shafts of Fire)
Shafts of fire pour thirst on us -- Sleepless nights, long scorching days, No respite in sight! On withered branches, A listless dove wails Droopy doleful notes... No fear, no scare, My gaze is fixed on the sky, For you will come in the Form of a storm, And shower rain on scorched souls.
And as I kept singing the song first penned in Santiniketan, I marvelled at the creativity of the giant whose words are true to this very day, more than 100 years later!
Kaal Baisakhi, the nor’wester known in Assam as bordoisila, is a localised rainfall and thunderstorm event which occurs in the Indian states of West Bengal, Bihar, Jharkhand, Odisha, Tripura, and Assam as well as in Bangladesh during the summer month of Baisakh (April 15-May 14). This first month of the Bengali calendar also saw the birth of Rabindranath Tagore. These storms generally occur in the afternoon or just before sunset, when thick dark black clouds appear over the sky and then bring gale-speed wind with torrential rain, often with hail, but spanning only a short period of time.
Kalbaisakhi
Tagore’s love for Nature had compelled him to set up in Santiniketan open air classrooms, where students would learn sitting on the ground in the bower, under trees where birds would chirp and gentle breeze would caress their tired brows.
And, his involvement also expressed itself in the 293 songs he wrote in the segment titled Prakriti (nature) Parjaay. There are songs about nature in general. But he himself further classified the songs under subsections — Upa parjaay — that focus on the six seasons: grishma (summer), barsha (Monsoon), sharat( early autumn), hemanta (late autumn or early winter), sheet (winter), basanta (spring).
Tagore clearly was taken up by the wild beauty of monsoon with its dark clouds and thunderous showers. For, he wrote 150 songs on the drops of nectar from the heavens, while summer elicited a tenth of this number! If this is half the number celebrating sharat, the festive season of Durga Puja, it is thrice the number dedicated to hemanta, the confluence of autumn and winter.
I take heart in the fact that Grishma subsection includes Chokkhe aamar trishna, Ogo trishna aamar bakkho jurey… [1]
Thirst fills my eyes, Dear, Thirsty is my heart too... I'm a rain-starved day of Baisakh Burnt by the sun, heat stroked. There's a storm brewing In the ovenated air.. It sweeps my mind into the distance. It rips me of my veil. The blossom that lit up the garden Has withered and fallen. Who has reined in the stream Imprisoned in heartless stone At the peak of suffering?
And then, when it rained? The torrents poured balm on the angry burns. The fleet-footed lightning seared the heart of the cloud-covered darkness and extracted the nectar-like flow…
It assured us that no hardship lasts forever. It reiterated faith in the eternal words, “This too shall pass!” And, for me? It confirmed Tagore’s words that “You will come in the form of a storm and shower rain on scorched souls…”
Tagore lives on, 163 years after he came. In his words. In his imagery. In his empathy with every human situation…
[1] Thirst fills my eyes, Dear, /Thirsty is my heart too…
Ratnottama Sengupta, formerly Arts Editor of The Times of India, teaches mass communication and film appreciation, curates film festivals and art exhibitions, and translates and write books. She has been a member of CBFC, served on the National Film Awards jury and has herself won a National Award.
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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL
Baraf Pora (Snowfall) by Rabindranath Tagore,gives a glimpse of his first experience of snowfall in Brighton and published in the Tagore family journal, Balak (Children), has been translated from Bengali by Somdatta Mandal. Clickhere to read.
Himalaya Jatra( A trip to Himalayas) by Tagore, has been translated from his Jibon Smriti (1911, Reminiscenses) by Somdatta Mandal from Bengali. Click here to read.
Bhumika (Introduction) by Tagore has been translated from Bengali by Ratnottama Sengupta. Click here to read.
The Fire-grinding Quern by Manzur Bismil has been translated from Balochi by Fazal Baloch. Clickhere to read.
The Tobacco Lover by Ihlwha Choi has been translated from Korean by the poet himself. Clickhere to read.
Pochishe Boisakh(25th of Baisakh) by Tagore(1922), has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty. Click here to read.
Pandies Corner
Songs of Freedom: Dear Me… is an autobiographical narrative by Ilma Khan, translated from Hindustani by Janees. These narrations highlight the ongoing struggle against debilitating rigid boundaries drawn by societal norms, with the support from organisations like Shaktishalini and pandies’. Click here to read.
Paul Mirabile gives a gripping tale about a young pyromaniac. Click hereto read.
Conversation
Ratnottama Sengupta in conversation about Kitareba, a contemporary dance performance on immigrants, with Sudarshan Chakravorty, a choreographer, and founder of the Sapphire Dance Company. Click here to read.
Centuries ago, April was associated with spring induced travel… just as pilgrims set out on a journey in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. Some of the journeys, like to Mecca, become a part of religious lore. And some just add to the joie de vivre of festivities during different festivals that punctuate much of Asia during this time — Pohela Boisakh (Bengali), Songkran (Thai), Navavarsha (Nepali), Ugadi (Indian), Vaisakhi (Indian), Aluth Avurudda (Sri Lankan) and many more.
A hundred years ago, in April 1924, Tagore had also set out to journey across the oceans to China — a trip which, perhaps, led to the setting up of Cheena Bhavan in Vishwa Bharati. Recently, Professor Uma Dasgupta in a presentation stated that Tagore’s Nobel prize winning Gitanjali, and also a collection called The Crescent Moon (1913), had been translated to Chinese in 1923 itself… He was renowned within China even before he ventured there. His work had been critically acclaimed in literary journals within the country. That arts connect in an attempt to override divides drawn by politics is well embodied in Tagore’s work as an NGO and as a writer. He drew from all cultures, Western and Eastern, to try and get the best together to serve humankind, closing gaps borne of human constructs. This spirit throbbed in his work and his words. Both towered beyond politics or any divisive constructs and wept with the pain of human suffering.
This issue features translations of Tagore’s writings from his childhood — both done by professor Somdatta Mandal — his first trip with his father to the Himalayas and his first experience of snow in Brighton. We have a transcreation of some of his lyrics by Ratnottama Sengupta. The translation of his birthday poem to himself — Pochishe Boisakh(his date of birth in the Bengali calendar) along with more renditions in English of Korean poetry by Ihlwha Choi and Manzur Bismil’s powerful poetry from Balochi by Fazal Baloch, add richness to our oeuvre. Bismil’s poetry is an ode to the people — a paean to their struggle. It would seem from all the translations that if poets and writers had their way, the world would be filled with love and kindness.
Yet, the world still thunders with wars, with divides — perhaps, there will come a time when soldiers will down their weapons and embrace with love for, they do not fight for themselves but for causes borne of artificial human divides. It is difficult to greet people on any festival or new year, knowing there are parts of the world where people cannot celebrate for they have no food, no water, no electricity, no homes and no lives… for many have died for a cause that has been created not by them as individuals but by those who are guided solely by their hankering for power and money, which are again human constructs. Beyond these constructs there is a reality that grows out of acceptance and love, the power that creates humanity, the Earth and the skies…
Humour is brought into non-fiction by Devraj Singh Kalsi’s narrative about being haunted by an ancient British ghost in Kolkata! Suzanne Kamata adds to the lightness while dwelling on modelling for photographs in the Japanese way. Ravi Shankar plunges into the history of photography while musing on black and white photographs from the past.
Tagore again seeps into non-fiction with Professor Fakrul Alam and Asad Latif telling us what the visionary means to the Bengali psyche. Starting with precursors of Tagore, like Michael Madhusudan Dutt, and post-him, Sarojini Naidu, Mandal has shared an essay on Bengaliness in contemporary poetry written by those born to the culture. Jared Carter has given discussed ‘the lyric temper’ in poetry — a wonderful empathetic recap of what it takes to write poetry. Exploring perspectives of multiple greats, like Yeats, Keats, George Santyana, Fitzgerald, Carter states, “Genuine lyricism comes only after the self has been quieted.”
Sengupta has conversed with a dance choreographer, Sudershan Chakravorty, who has been composing to create an awareness about the dilemmas faced by migrants. An autobiographical narrative in Hindustani from Ilma Khan, translated by Janees, shows the resilience of the human spirit against oppressive social norms. Our fiction has stories from Lakshmi Kannan and Shevlin Sebastian urging us to take a relook at social norms that install biases and hatred, while Paul Mirabile journeys into the realm of fantasy with his strange story about a boy obsessed with pyromania.
“It is an ironical reflection on our times that a prolific and much awarded Indian writer– perhaps deserving of the Nobel prize — should be excised from the university syllabus of a central university. This move has, perhaps paradoxically, elicited even more interest in Mahasweta Devi’s work and has also consolidated her reputation as a mascot, a symbol of resistance to state violence. A timely intervention, this volume proves yet again that a great writer, in responding to local, regional, environmental ethical concerns sensitively, transcends his/her immediate context to acquire global and universal significance.”
There is more content than I mention here. Do pause by our current issue to take a look.
I would hugely like to thank the Borderless team for their unceasing support, and especially Sohana Manzoor, also for her fantastic art. Heartfelt thanks to all our wonderful writers and our readers. We exist because you all are — ubuntu.
Hope you have a wonderful month. Here’s wishing you all wonderful new years and festivals in March-April — Easter, Eid and the new years that stretch across Asian cultures.
Looking forward and hoping for peace and goodwill.
Borderless 