Categories
Editorial

Stories, Spooks, AIs and More…

Art by Salvador Dali (1904-1989). From Public Domain

Humans for a long time lived in a world that was centred around them. The planets, plants, animals existed to serve them. The resultant effect was not exactly what could be called ‘pleasant’. Climate change and extinctions are proof of that. One cannot of course be held responsible for the extinction of giant dinosaurs for they were long gone before us. Would we have existed in our current form if they had not become extinct?

Perhaps, part of evolution is extinction of the old and birth of the new. However, we are the only species to have used the planet to suit our own needs. We evolved technology. Technology birthed computers and eventually, artificial intelligence. Almost a century ago, Isaac Asimov spun out science fiction about robots terraforming worlds for men. In these novels, he had instituted the laws of robotics, so that they would not harm humans. His robots were humanoids with AI.

As humanity races towards a tech savvy existence with AI taking on roles which were essentially human tasks, perhaps, we have to ask ourselves some salient questions. Ravi Varmman K Kanniapan has voiced such valid concerns over the deployment of AI in his essay. He writes: “The question should not merely be whether artificial intelligence can make institutions faster, cheaper, or more productive. The deeper question is, for whom?”  While pondering over this issue, if we take a look at Farouk Gulsara’s experiences pedalling through Kyrgystan and Kazakhstan, one wonders if AI impacts the whole world or will it deepen divides between technocrats and people who live closer to nature! Sailing through the Australian seas, Meredith Stephens takes us on an adventure to Port Hedland. Her narrative is accompanied by beautiful photographs by Alan Noble.

While Suzanne Kamata introduces us to mores on the artistic ethos of Japan, Jun A Alindogan expresses concerns over linguistic forays. Saeed Ibrahim steps into nostalgia taking us to a tiny town called Deolali and Kuldip Raj Chopra muses philosophically gazing back and forth to reflect on life lessons. In a contrary vein, Devraj Singh Kalsi splashes comic frivolity as he describes his attempts at purchasing bedsheets!

Niaz Zaman has shared a learned essay on women writers in Nazrul’s magazine, Dhumketu (Comet), in the early twentieth century, while Professor Fakrul Alam has translated the lyrics of a song by the poet from Bengal. Fazal Baloch has brought to us a powerful Balochi poem by the late Ghulam Hussain Shohaz in English. Isa Kamari has shared the third chapter of his self-translated Malay novel, The Throne, weaving in life in the newly-minted Singapore of the mid-twentieth century. Ihlwha Choi has translated his own Korean poem on how he found poetry. Winding up the translations, is a poem by Tagore called Pothik (traveller). 

Poetry brings to us different aspects of existence. Goutam Roy reflects on children’s issues through an analogy with nature while Stephen House critiques how 585 trees would be cut in his area to give way to buildings. We have more variety in verses with John Swain, George Freek, Laila Brahmbhatt, Joseph C. Ogbonna, Ajeeti S, Anne Whitehouse, Ahaduzzaman M. Ali, Jenny Middleton, Jahnavi Gogoi, John Britten and Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal. Ryan Quinn Flanagan paints a vision of merry, swaying boats parked at sea with words. Ananya S Guha gives us a glimpse of the rain and misty ambience of Shillong. Rhys Hughes as usual wafts absurdity and humour by taking on the persona of a (male) curtain in love in rather a funny poem.

AI or rather algorithms are woven into a quirky fiction by Brindley Hallam Dennis. Sayan Sarkar shares a story reflecting the need for compassion while Jonathon B Ferrini sprinkles a bit of magic between a father and daughter in a poignant tale. Naramsetti Umamaheswararao weaves a fable with traditions of rural Southern India.

We have an interesting excerpt from a ‘The Brown Hand’, a spooky story by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle from The Raj in Ghostly Light, edited by B.C.Dutt. One has to realise while reading such stories that what is seen as a controversial attitude in today’s world could well have been an accepted norm a century or two ago. We have another excerpt from a more modern non-fiction — Bhaskar Parichha’s recent translation from Odia of Janaki Ballav Patnaik: An Unfinished Memoir. Describing the art of tattooing is yet another excerpt from a story by Hannah Stevens, a writer shortlisted for the W&A Working Class Writers’ Prize, which follows her conversation with Keith Lyons.

Short stories have wound their way into our reviews section too. Somdatta Mandal has discussed Geetanjali Shree’s Once Elephants Lived Here: Stories, translated from Hindi by Daisy Rockwell. Mandal writes: “The book…presents a great challenge to the layman reader who cannot simply pick it up and start reading at leisure. One must read meticulously, ponder over the distortion of the usual short story genre, keep track of the convoluted or sometimes half-finished sentences and wonder where the narrator or the protagonist of the story is leading you – sometimes round and round and without reaching a denouement. All said and done, one must pick up this book to savour how post-modern storytelling can become an art in itself.” Rakhi Dalal has written about Teresa Rehman’s Her Hajj Story: Travel Diaries of Women Pilgrims from Assam while Farah Imam elaborates on Raina/Rituparna Khan’s Her Story: Beyond Dimension. Parichha has brought to us Reetika Khera’s Freebies or Rights: Rethinking India’s Social Policy. He writes: “Freebies or Rights presents a case for seeing social protection not as charity, but as part of the infrastructure of a democratic society. Its central message is both simple and consequential: dignity cannot be secured by economic growth alone. For millions of Indians, it also depends on whether the state can make basic rights real in everyday life.”

Though we reflect on diverse themes in this issue, the collective concern is for the welfare of our species, our planet and our very existence, occasionally drizzled with humour.  Do pause by our contents page to browse on our October issue.

We are hugely grateful to all the contributors, our team who step in to help create the content and put it before all our readers, especially Sohana Manzoor for her wonderful artwork. We remain thankful to all our readers without who our efforts would be in vain.

Have a wonderful October!

Happy reading.

Mitali Chakravarty

borderlessjournal.com

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Categories
Nostalgia

The Changing Face of Deolali

By Saeed Ibrahim

The Old Cantonment town of Deolali. From Public Domain

In the colonial era, Deolali (also known as Devlali), had been set up as a cantonment town by the British in 1861. It had an Army Staff College and was also an area for Rest and Recreation (R&R) for the British troops after finishing their tour of duty and waiting for ships to take them back home to Britain. After Independence, Deolali continued to be a military town. With its proximity to Mumbai, its good climate and clean, fresh air, it very soon became a popular hill station for rest and convalescence.

In the early sixties, my  grandfather suffered from repeated attacks of bronchitis and his doctor  recommended moving him for a lengthy period of convalescence to a calm and peaceful hill station away from the hustle and bustle of Mumbai city life. Deolali, situated at a height of 1690 ft above sea level  and about 200 km from Bombay, appeared to be the ideal choice. And so my grandparents took up a semi-permanent residence in Deolali Camp and over the next few years we spent all our school holidays in Deolali.

Deolali Camp was a neat and well-kept place with wide roads and, in those days, with no vehicular traffic, apart from cycles and the occasional military vehicle. Modernisation and growth have altered the rhythm of this once quiet getaway where life moved at a gentle, predictable pace. Today Deolali has become busier and more commercialised thanks to modern restaurants, shops and fast-food eateries. New housing developments and multi-storey residential flats have taken the place of sprawling colonial-era bungalows and the quiet roads have become noisy with the traffic of cars and motor bikes.

Within Camp limits and concentrated around Deolali’s main street, some  familiar landmarks still remain to remind us of the old Deolali. These establishments have survived, while others have disappeared, succumbing to the demands of development and commercialisation.

One such survivor is Milton Photographers on 305 Howson Road. Established in 1918, it is perhaps the oldest photo studio in Deolali, operational even today and run by one of the descendants of the original owner. I have an old family portrait with my parents and grandparents taken sometime in the sixties. It is a high contrast black and white photograph encased in a cardboard folder and in the bottom corner there is a stamp reading “Milton Studio, Deolali Camp.”

Close by on Howson Road is another legendary local haunt – the Bharat Cold Drink House. Established in 1948, it has been a favourite eatery for local residents and military personnel for over 75 years. It has recently shifted to renovated premises directly opposite the old location, retaining its rich historical legacy with walls decorated with old photographs depicting the nostalgic, relaxed lifestyle of old Deolali. Started primarily as a refreshing beverage house, it has reinvented itself to become a well-loved spot for both classic drinks as well as popular snacks.

I can still savour the unmistakable whiff of freshly baked bread as one rounded the corner into Howson Road. This tantalising aroma emanated from Empire Bakery, another iconic institution of old Deolali. It was established in the pre-Independence era by a Parsi couple as a small, family-run bakery with a distinct, no-frills, old-world charm, catering to the British and Indian military personnel as well as the local civilian population. Today, after expansion, it is known as Empire Stores and Bakery, and functions as both a bakery and a confectionary shop. Keeping alive its unique legacy, it continues to offer traditional local favourites such as the large, white uncut loaves, the hard, round, crusty Broon Pav, flaky jeera butter, crisp khari biscuits, jam rolls and egg puffs.

Apart from these few die hard survivors, other well-loved landmarks have not been as fortunate, or have not been able to innovate or adapt to the changing times. The vintage Adelphi Theatre, was established as far back as the 1940’s by Mr. Dhunjishaw Neterwala, a  local Parsi entrepreneur, to provide entertainment and recreation for the British military troops stationed at the Deolali Transit Camp. After Independence it evolved into a public commercial cinema  where both residents and army families watched Bollywood classics until it was eventually  demolished somewhere in the 1990’s. On the old familiar site opposite the Police Station on Wadner Road there now stands a residential and commercial complex known as Adelphi Arcade.

The changing face of Deolali can be felt as much in the historic Camp area as in the outlying areas. In the 1960s, there were several large, private family-owned plots spread across the Sansari and Bhagur villages bordering Deolali Camp.  The pleasant climate and the rich soil of the region was conducive to the cultivation of fruits and flowers and these estates, belonging to wealthy families, were often run as commercially viable fruit orchards and flower gardens.

One of my fondest memories is that of Farzandi Baug, a beautiful fruit orchard and rose garden owned by a  Parsi/Irani family. The 4 km tonga ride to Farzandi Baug  had been bumpy, involving a long wait at a railway level crossing to allow a main line passenger train to go past. The orchard itself was spread over several acres with groves of various fruit trees bearing papaya, guava, chickoo, orange, lemon and grapefruit.

As we walked through the rows of fruit trees accompanied by a mali[1], we plucked the ripened fruit directly off the trees and collected it all in a basket which was later weighed and priced at the small office located near the entrance. The tour of the neighbouring rose garden was conducted by the owner himself as he fondly explained each rose variety, rolling off exotic sounding names, such as, Florence, Mercedes, Vivaldi, Melody and Darling, pertaining to the different rose species and types.

Today this sprawling 15-acre orchard and rose garden is no more. It has been permanently closed and sold off and, in its place, there exists a modern municipal park and public  recreational space.  Except for the site name and landmark, little remains of the old rustic charm of the lush fruit trees, the multi-hued roses and their  kindly owner.  

If you are on a throw-back trip driven by nostalgia and a yearning for  the old ambiance, you are bound to be disappointed. Deolali has lost its quaint charm and  is no longer that haven of tranquillity that it once was.

[1] Gardener

Saeed Ibrahim’s family saga, Twin Tales from Kutcch, and his book of short stories, The Missing Tile and Other Stories, have had successful runs both in India and overseas. His short stories have appeared in The Blue Lotus Magazine, Borderless Journal, The Hooghly Review, Different Truths, Lothlorien Poetry Journal and elsewhere. He continues to write newspaper articles, travel essays and book reviews for various Indian and international publications.

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