Categories
Contents

Borderless, April 2025

Art by Sohana Manzoor

Editorial

Seasons in the Sun?….Click here to read.

Translations

An excerpt from Tagore’s long play, Roktokorobi or Red Oleanders, has been translated by Professor Fakrul Alam. Click here to read.

Tagore’s essay, Classifications in Society, has been translated by Somdatta Mandal. Click here to read.

Poems of Longing by Jibananada Das homes two of his poems translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam. Click here to read.

Four cantos from Ramakanta Rath’s Sri Radha, translated from Odiya by the late poet himself, have been excerpted from his full length translation. Click here to read.

An excerpt from Syad Zahoor Shah Hashmi’s Nazuk, has been translated from Balochi by Fazal Baloch. Click here to read.

Disappearance by Bitan Chakraborty has been translated from Bengali by Kiriti Sengupta. Click here to read.

Roadside Ritual, a poem by Ihlwha Choi  has been translated from Korean by the poet himself. Click here to read.

Tagore’s Pochishe Boisakh Cholechhe (The twenty fifth of Boisakh draws close…) from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty. Click here to read.

Poetry

Click on the names to read the poems

Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, Thompson Emate, Pramod Rastogi, George Freek, Vidya Hariharan, Stuart McFarlane, Meetu Mishra, Lizzie Packer, Saranyan BV, Paul Mirabile, Hema Ravi, Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Rhys Hughes

Poets, Poetry & Rhys Hughes

In Three Gothic Poems, Rhys Hughes explores the world of horrific with a light touch. Click here to read.

Musings/Slices from Life

The Day the Earth Quaked

Amy Sawitta Lefevre gives an eyewitness account of the March 28th earthquake from Bangkok. Click here to read.

Felix, the Philosophical Cat

Farouk Gulsara shares lessons learnt from his spoilt pet with a touch of humour. Click here to read.

Not Everyone is Invited to a Child’s Haircut Ceremony

Odbayar Dorje muses on Mongolian traditions. Click here to read.

From a Bucking Bronco to an Ageing Clydesdale

Meredith Stephens writes of sailing on rough seas one dark night. Click here to read.

Musings of a Copywriter

Stay Blessed! by Devraj Singh Kalsi is a tongue-in-cheek musing on social norms and niceties. Click here to read.

Notes from Japan

On Safari in South Africa by Suzanne Kamata takes us to a photographic and narrative treat of the Kruger National Park. Click here to read.

Essays

Songs of the Adivasi Earth

Ratnottama Sengupta introduces us to the art of Haren Thakur, rooted in tribal lores. Click here to read.

‘Rajnigandha’: A Celebration of the Middle-of-the-Road

Tamara Raza writes of a film that she loves. Click here to read.

‘Climate change matters to me, and it should matter to you too’

Zeeshan Nasir writes of the impact of the recent climate disasters in Pakistan, with special focus on Balochistan. Click here to read.

Bhaskar’s Corner

Ramakanta Rath: A Monument of Literature: Bhaskar Parichha pays a tribute to the late poet. Click here to read.

Stories

Jai Ho Chai

Snigdha Agrawal narrates a funny narrative about sadhus and AI. Click here to read.

The Mischief

Mitra Samal writes a sensitive story about childhood. Click here to read.

Lending a hand

Naramsetti Umamaheswararao takes us back to school. Click here to read.

Conversation

Ratnottama Sengupta talks to filmmaker and author Leslie Carvalho about his old film, The Outhouse, that will be screened this month and his new book, Smoke on the Backwaters. Click here to read.

Book Excerpts

An excerpt from Anuradha Kumar’s Wanderers, Adventurers, Missionaries: Early Americans in India. Click here to read.

An excerpt from Snigdha Agrawal’s Fragments of Time (Memoirs). Click here to read.

Book Reviews

Somdatta Mandal reviews Sheela Rohekar’s Miss Samuel: A Jewish Indian Saga, translated by Madhu Singh. Click here to read.

Gracy Samjetsabam reviews Tony K Stewart’s Needle at the Bottom of the Sea: Classic Bengali Tales from the Sundarbans. Click here to read.

Bhaskar Parichha reviews Raisina Chronicles: India’s Global Public Square by S. Jaishankar & Samir Saran. Click here to read.

.

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International

Categories
Editorial

Seasons in the Sun?

April is a month full of celebrations around the world. Asia hosts a spray of New Year festivities. Then there are festivals like Qing Ming Jie, Good Friday and Easter. All these are in a way reminders of our past. And yet, we critique things as old fashioned! So, where does tradition end and ‘outdated’ or ‘outmoded’ start? Meanwhile we continue to celebrate these festivals with joy but what happens to those who have lost their home, family and their living due to war or climate disasters? Can they too join in with the joie de vivre? Can we take our celebrations to them to give solace in some way?

In our April issue, we have stories from climate and conflict-ridden parts of the world. From Bangkok, Amy Sawitta Lefevre gives an eyewitness account of the March 28th Earthquake that originated in Myanmar. While in her city, the disaster was managed, she writes: “I’m also thinking of all the children in Myanmar who are sleeping in the open, who lost loved ones, who are feeling scared and alone, with no one to reassure them.” As news reels tell us, in Myanmar there have been thousands of casualties from the earthquake as well as shootings by the army.

From another troubled region, Pakistan, Zeeshan Nasir gives a heartrending narrative about climate change, which also dwells on the human suffering, including increase in underage marriages.

Human suffering can be generated by rituals and customs too. For instance, if festivals dwell on exclusivity, they can hurt those who are left out of the celebrations. Odbayar Dorje muses along those lines on Mongolian traditions and calls for inclusivity and the need to change norms. On the other hand, Devraj Singh Kalsi hums with humour as he reflects on social norms and niceties and hints at the need for change in a light-hearted manner. Farouk Gulsara makes us laugh with the antics of his spoilt pet cat. And Suzanne Kamata dwells on her animal sightings in Kruger National Park with her words and camera while Meredith Stephens takes us sailing on stormy seas… that too at night.

Art is brought into focus by Ratnottama Sengupta who introduces artist Haren Thakur with his adaptation of tribal styles that has been compared to that of Paul Klee (1879-1940). She also converses with filmmaker Leslie Carvalho, known for his film The Outhouse, and his new novel, Smoke on the Backwaters. Both of these have a focus on the Anglo-Indian community in India. Also writing on Indian film trends of the 1970s is Tamara Raza. Bhaskar Parichha pays tribute to the late Ramakanta Rath (1934-2025), whose powerful and touching poetry, translated from Odia by the poet himself, can be found in our translations section.

We have an excerpt from Professor Fakrul Alam’s unpublished translation of Tagore’s Red Oleanders. It’s a long play and truly relevant for our times. Somdatta Mandal shares with us her translation of Tagore’s essay called ‘The Classification in Society’, an essay where the writer dwells on the need for change in mindsets of individuals that make up a community to move forward. A transcreation of a poem by Tagore for his birthday in 1935 reflects the darkness he overcame in his own life. Two poems expressive of longings by Jibananada Das have been translated from Bengali by Professor Alam aswell. From Balochistan, we have an excerpt from the first Balochi novel, Nazuk, written by the late Syad Zahoor Shah Hashmi and rendered into English by Fazal Baloch. Among contemporaries, we have a short story by Bitan Chakraborty translated from Bengali by Kiriti Sengupta, a poignant story that reflects on gaps in our society. And a Korean poem by Ihlwha Choi rendered to English by the poet himself.

Our poetry section celebrates nature with poetry by Lizzie Packer. Many of the poems draw from nature like that of George Freek and Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal. Some talk of the relationship between man and nature as does Stuart McFarlane. We have a variety of themes addressed in poems by Thompson Emate, Meetu Mishra, Saranyan BV, Paul Mirabile, Pramod Rastogi, Ryan Quinn Flanagan and many more. Rhys Hughes brings in both humour and social commentary of sorts with his poem. And in his column, Hughes has shared three gothic poems which he claims are horrible but there is that twinge of fable and lightness similar to the ghosts of Ebenezer Scrooge’s world[1]— colourful and symbolic.

Stories sprinkle humour of different shades with Snigdha Agrawal’s narrative about mendicants and AI and Mitra Samal’s strange tale about childhood pranks. Naramsetti Umamaheswararao takes us back to schooldays with his narrative. We have a fun book excerpt from Agrawal’s Fragments of Time (Memoirs), almost in tone with some of her stories and musings.

An extract from Anuradha Kumar’s latest non-fiction making bridges across time and geographies. Called Wanderers, Adventurers, Missionaries: Early Americans in India, the book is an intriguing read. We have a review by Professor Mandal of Sheela Rohekar’s Miss Samuel: A Jewish Indian Saga, translated by Madhu Singh. Highlighting syncretic folk traditions, Gracy Samjetsabam has discussed the late Tony K Stewart’s translation of oral folklore in Needle at the Bottom of the Sea: Classic Bengali Tales from the Sundarbans. Parichha has written about a high-profile book that also hopes to draw bridges across the world, Raisina Chronicles: India’s Global Public Square, by S. Jaishankar and Samir Saran.

This issue has been made possible because of support from all of you. Huge thanks to the team, all our contributors and readers. Thanks to Sohana Manzoor for her fabulous artwork. Do pause by our contents page as all the content could not be covered here.

Perhaps, world events leave a sense of pensiveness in all of us and an aura of insecurity. But, as Scarlett O’ Hara of Gone with the Wind[2] fame says, “After all, tomorrow is another day.” 

Looking forward to a new day with hope, let’s dream of happier times filled with sunshine and change.

Enjoy the reads!

Mitali Chakravarty

borderlessjournal.com

[1] A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, 1843

[2] Gone With the Wind, a novel by Margaret Mitchell, published in 1936

Click here to access the contents page for the April 2025 Issue

READ THE LATEST UPDATES ON THE FIRST BORDERLESS ANTHOLOGY, MONALISA NO LONGER SMILES, BY CLICKING ON THIS LINK.

Categories
Tagore Translations

Classifications in Society by Rabindranath Tagore

This essay was first published in Tattwabodhini Patrika, Ashwin issue, 1319 B.S.(September-October, 1912) and reprinted in Pather Sanchoy (Gleanings of the Road). It has been translated from Bengali by Somdatta Mandal.

Tagore at Paris, 1921. From Public Domain

When we travel to Vilayet[1], then it is not simply going from one country to another; for us it is like entering a new household. The external differences of lifestyle are not that important. It is expected that there will be a difference between us and the foreigners in our dress, ornaments, eating and pleasure habits and so that doesn’t bother us too much. But not only in lifestyle, there is a deeper dissimilarity in our evaluation of life and to find a sense of direction there suddenly becomes a very difficult task.

We start feeling this from the moment we board the ship. We understand that we will have to abide by the rules of another different household. This sudden change is not to the liking of man. This is why we do not try to understand it very clearly; we somehow try to follow it or feel disgusted and then utter to ourselves—their manner and behaviour is too artificial.

The truth is that what is important is the difference we have with them regarding our social position. Our society has come and stopped within the limits of our family and village. Within those limits we have evolved certain fixed rules about how to behave with one another. Keeping those limits in mind it has been decided what we should do and what we should not. Some of those rules are superficial whereas others are quite normal.

But the society which is the target of these rules being framed is not very big in size and it is a society of relatives. So, our habits are quite domesticated. You cannot smoke tobacco in front of your father, you are supposed to pay obeisance to the guru and pay him some money, the sister- in- law must cover up her face in the presence of the elder brother-in-law and close proximity to your uncle- in- law is totally prohibited. Those rules that are outside the family or village society are based on caste(varna) differences.

It can be said that the thread of caste difference has tied our village society and families like a chain or necklace. We have reached a conclusion. India has resolved its societal problems once and for all and she feels that if this system can be permanently retained then there is nothing to worry about. That is why modern India is trying to strengthen in all manner this family and social bonding laws woven through the thread of varnashram[2].

It has to be admitted that India had been able to find a solution to the problems it was facing at one point of time. She has somehow reconciled the differences between diverse castes, she has pacified the struggle between diverse classes; by classifying professions she has managed to contain competition and disputes and has staved off the vanity created by differences of wealth and capacity through the fence of caste differences. Though, on the one hand, India has maintained through all means the independence of Brahmins who are at the helm of society to the people belonging to other castes, at the same time, she has also spread out small and big processes through which all facilities and education could be disseminated among the others. This is why what the rich person enjoys in India is also partly distributed among the ordinary people on various pretexts and in this way, by giving shelter to the ordinary and appeasing them, the powerful retains his power. In our country, there is no reason to go into a major clash between the rich and the poor and the necessity has not arisen by which the incapable person has to be protected by legal means.

The Western society is not family oriented; it is an open and large society which is much more widespread than ours. It is more on the outside than on the inside. The concept of family that is there in our country is absent in Europe and that is why the people of Europe are spread everywhere.

The nature of this spread-out society is such that on the one hand it is loosely assimilated and on the other it is more diverse and stronger. It is like composing a prose piece. Poetry is restricted within its rhymes and that is why its binding is simpler. But the prose spreads out. That is why on the one hand it is independent and on the other its steps are bound through logic and reason, through diverse rules on ideas about the development of the mind in a greater way.

Because the English society is so spread out and because all its activities are externally motivated, it must be always prepared for different social rituals. It hardly has time to wear casual domestic clothes. It must remain dressed up because its social area is not that of relatives. Relatives pardon you, tolerate you, but you cannot expect such tolerance on the part of outsiders. Everyone must do each and every work in due time, otherwise one will encroach upon another. If the rail line is in my area or is under the control of a few of my friends and relatives, then we can run the train as we wish and can even halt each other’s train as and when we desire. But if we try to detain a train for five minutes in the ordinary train route where lots of trains move up and down, then there will be lots of problems and that will be difficult to tolerate. Because our society is extremely domesticated or maybe because we are habituated with domestic practices, we behave with each other very loosely—we spread ourselves as much as possible, waste time and criticise formal behaviour as lacking in fraternal feelings. This is the first thing that prevents us from feeling at home in English society—there one cannot act in a carefree manner and then expect that people will pardon us. They have created different rules that will on an average benefit the maximum number of people. They have set up fixed rules for meeting each other, for invitation formalities, for dressing up, for entertaining guests. If we try and impose the laxity that we display with relatives in a place that is not actually a society of relatives, then everything turns out to be horrible and life becomes impossible.

Till now this wide European society has not come up with any solutions. It has made an effort through certain rules and regulations in external rituals and behaviour to retain self-restraint and gracefulness but is unable to make arrangements by which the internal strife at a personal level can be resolved. Europe is only going through experimentation, change and revolution. There is a constant rivalry cropping up between men and women, between religious society and professional society, between the power of the ruler and the ruled, between businessmen and worker groups. It has not pacified itself like the halo round the moon. Even now it is ready like a volcano waiting to erupt.

But how can we say that we have solved all our problems, have finalised our social structure, and are resting as peacefully as dead bodies? Even though time has elapsed, we can retain the system for some time, but we cannot keep the situation in chains. We are facing the entire world, now we cannot do with our domesticated society; these people are not merely our fathers, grandfathers or uncles, they are outsiders. They belong to different countries and so we should be extremely alert while interacting with them. If we are absent-minded and behave in a loose manner, then one day we will be totally unfit to act.

We are proud of our tradition, but it is not at all true that the society of India has not evolved through history. In different situations even India had to go through newer revolutions—there is no doubt about that—and history is replete with instances. But I don’t want to even utter that it is the end of all treading for her and from now on till eternity she will just be there and hold on to her traditionality. Society gets fatigued after each large revolution; during that time, it shuts its doors, switches off all lights and prepares to go to sleep. After the Buddhist revolution India had gone off to sleep latching her doors and windows with the hook of strict laws. She was sleepy. But to boast about this as eternal sleep will become a laughable though pitiable thing. Sleep is good only during the night, when there are no crowds of people outside, and when all the big shops and markets are shut down. But in the morning when everyone is awake and there is activity all around, if you go on quietly lying down and close all the old doors and windows, then you will be the loser.

The rules of the night are very simple. Its arrangements are sparse, and its requirements are very little. That is why we can complete all our tasks and go to sleep in an unperturbed manner. Then things go on lying where they were kept because there is no one to move them. The arrangements during the day are not so simple and completing the job once and for all in the early morning does not mean that one can relax and smoke tobacco the rest of the day. Work keeps pouring down our necks. We must keep attempting new things and if we cannot adjust ourselves to the flow of the outside world, then everything else falls out of place.

For some time, India has spent her nights in a system of strict and fixed set of rules. That does not mean that that situation will permanently remain very comfortable. Getting a beating is most painful and difficult, especially when it falls upon a sleeping body. Daytime is the period to receive such blows. That is why it is most comfortable to remain awake during the daytime.  

It is time for us to wake up whether we wish it or not, whether we are full of laziness or not. We are constantly being hurt both internally and externally in society and so we are sad. We are suffering from poverty and famine. The society is breaking down; the joint family system is being split into bits and pieces. And the role of the Brahmins in society has become so demeaning that with the aid of ‘Brahmin societies’ and such other things, they keep on shouting loudly to prove their existence and thus only attest to their weakness. The panchayat[3] system worn in the neck by the government’s chaprasi[4] has committed suicide and its ghost is dominating the village. The food in the country is incapable of satiating the small village schools. Due to famine, they are now relying on the charity of government dole. The rich people of the country have doused the light in their birthplaces and are roaming around in Calcutta in motor cars, and people of noble descent are ready to sacrifice their entire wealth and their daughters at the feet of a graduate groom. There is no point in blaming the Kaliyuga[5], or the foreign king or the native English-speaking people for this misfortune. The truth is that our lord has sent his assistant during the daytime, and he will not stop till such time he can drag us out of our traditional bedrooms. So, we cannot forcibly close our eyes and try to create the night at odd hours. The world that has come to our threshold has to be welcomed inside our house. If we don’t give it a cordial welcome, then it will break open our doors and gain entry. Hasn’t the door not yet been broken now?

So once again, we must think about resolving our problems. It cannot be done by imitating Europe, but we must learn from her. Learning and imitating are not the same thing. Actually, if we learn in the correct way, we will be relieved from the art of imitating. If we cannot know the other truly, then we cannot understand the truth ourselves.

But I was saying that we cannot adjust ourselves in the European society with our loose domestic habits. We can never prepare ourselves in any way. It seems that everyone is pushing us aside, no one is waiting for us for a moment. We are pampered human beings; we feel out of place without our relatives in society. After coming here, I have noticed that since our students are not used to entering other people’s houses, most of them come here and learn things by heart but they do not keep any contact with the society here. The society here is large and so it has more responsibilities. Only if we undertake those responsibilities, can we find a sort of connection with the people of this society. If we cannot connect then we shall be deprived of the greatest learning prevalent here. This is because society is the greatest truth here. The greatest strength, the greatest sublimity is in the society here and not in the battlefield. Sacrifice and self-respect suitable for a broad-minded society are being expressed at every step. They are nurtured here and are preparing themselves in different ways to sacrifice their lives for the welfare of man. In modern India, the educated class of people still consider school education to be the true education. They are deprived of the education of greater society. Even after coming here and entering the school factory, if they come out simply as mechanical things and do not enter the birthplace of humanity visible here then they will be deprived even after coming to a foreign country.

Art by Rabindranath Tagore. From Public Domain

[1] England or the Western world

[2] Casteism

[3] Villages in India are still administered by the panchayat, a council of five selected members from the community.

[4] Peon

[5] The current age in Hindu mythology which ends when the Kalki avatar comes to rescue humanity from darkness.

Somdatta Mandal is a critic and translator and a former Professor of English at Visva-Bharati, Santiniketan, India. An earlier version of this essay was published in Gleanings of the Road (Niyogi Books, pg 20).

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International

Categories
Review

‘A Journey Beyond Imaginary Borders’

Book review by Somdatta Mandal

Title: Miss Samuel: A Jewish Indian Saga

Author: Sheela Rohekar

Translator from Hindi: Madhu Singh

Publisher: Speaking Tiger Books

India is perhaps the one country where the Jews have maintained their identity without ever being exposed to antisemitism at the hands of their host. Although representing a microscopic segment of the Indian population, the Bene Israel is one of the largest and oldest of the three major Jewish communities of India, the other two being the Cochin Jews of the Malabar Coast and the Baghdadi Jews of Bombay and Calcutta. The Bene Israels arrived at the Konkan coast, shipwrecked, and have lived in India for more than 2,000 years and claim descent from the ten lost tribes of Israel. After they had settled down permanently in the Konkan villages of Western Maharashtra, the Bene Israels were called ‘Shaniwar Telis’ or Saturday oil pressers – a relatively low-caste designation – by the local population because they refrained from working on Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath. Later, they also farmed their land, peddled produce, and took up petty jobs, with the majority working as clerks in government offices and private firms. With time, they adopted Hindu names similar to their Biblical names and took up Marathi surnames such as Rohekar, Penkar, Palkar, and Ashtamkar by adding the suffix ‘-kar’ to the villages and town they came from. They adopted Marathi, the local language, as their mother tongue, and to outsiders, became physically indistinguishable from the local population. But within the village society, the Bene Israels were clearly differentiated from others because they adhered to Judaism. Initially overtones of a caste system coloured the Bene Israelis but they changed with time. Intermarriages between other Jewish communities became common.

With the formation of the nation-state of Israel in 1948, the exodus of the Jews of India took place on a very large scale, and only a few hundred members were left in Gujarat. Initially the integration of the Bene Israels into Israeli society was not easy and many of them returned to India but re-emigrated to Israel later after 1964 when their religious status was finally accepted.

Miss Samuel: A Jewish Indian Saga is written by Sheela Rohekar, a Bene Israel Jew, who is probably the sole-living Jewish Hindi author, and she managed to recreate the distinct identity of her own community. Bearing across life histories of her ancestors, she seeks answers to those questions that troubled her in the novel.  Originally written in Hindi, it is aptly translated into English for the first time by Madhu Singh, a professor of English teaching at the University of Lucknow. The novel is narrated by Miss Seema Samuel, an almost 70-year-old Bene Israel living at an old age home called Parisar on the outskirts of Pune, and it portrays her unsuccessful struggle to fit into a majoritarian Hindu society along with the plight of being an unmarried woman in India. She tells the story of her community, of their trials and tribulations, love and loss, and their longing for ‘Aliyah’ — the return to the Promised Land of Israel. Shifting from the Konkani shores to the bustling streets of Ahmedabad (called Amdavad in the local parlance), and finally to the tranquility of an old-age home, each generation of Seema’s family grapples with the tension between their Jewish faith and Indian identity, struggling with their fear of persecution on the one hand and a yearning for acceptance on the other.

In the novel, apart from giving a macrocosmic view of the Bene Israel community which makes its members victims of isolation and alienation from mainstream Indians, and depicting their ancient history and present status, Sheela Rohekar also very deftly presents the microcosmic view of the extended family of her community along with the problems of cross-cultural liaisons and the problems each individual member of her family faces. She states: “But some images embed themselves in the mind, not in the eyes, and chase you – all your life. The role of time in fusing images is not much but the trick of a fading memory. They light up in a flash!”

Since her narration spans six generations and moves deftly backwards and forwards in time, in some places it becomes difficult for the readers to keep track of who’s who in the narrative and occasionally one must go back to the family tree chart at the beginning to place the characters in their proper perspective.

Miss Seema tells the story of Isaji Eloji, who, having married a Hindu woman named Narayani, is believed to have ‘blackened’ the Jewish name. Two generations later, burdened by his grandfather’s transgression, David Reuben stops at nothing to keep his Jewish identity pure, even poisoning his daughter Lily for loving a non-Jewish man.

Again, years later, his son Samuel David (Miss Seema’s father) finds that his Jewish identity makes him an outsider in his own country; and his grandson, Bobby, faces persecution of the worst kind – when he is murdered by a mob in Ahmedabad. It is through reading the loose notes and a long essay that Bobby had left behind that Seema manages to tell us the background history of their community. With his collection of yellow, crumbling newspaper cuttings about the Jews, old coins, badges, awards, certificates, degrees, and moth-eaten black and white photographs that were around 150 years old, Bobby tried to illuminate the path taken by the fellow members of his community – the Bene Israel, the pardesi, the foreigners – whom the people of Amdavad did not know in the twentieth century and believed to be Maharashtrians or converted Christians. The story of how his brother, David, and his Hindu wife. Jyotsna Prajapati, managed to throw Seema out of their apartment in Gitanjali Society also reminds us about such machinations that prevail in our Indian society in general. Through the different tales, the narrator remains a constant, and her memories commingling the past with the present are deftly handled by the novelist.

Further, Miss Samuel becomes a key novel to understand not only for its Indian-Jewish identity but also its multicultural Indian identity and its challenges in the present time. The old age home, Parisar, is not at all a closed space and it opens to new forms of solidarity among elderly abandoned women who, though belonging to different faiths and identities, abandon their frustration with the twists of patriarchal society to discover the meaning of friendship, love and solidarity.

Seema writes: “The campus where I live is surrounded by hills. There is silence, always. I can see residents of my age, some even older, shuffle from one room to another. Constructed at a distance of two hours from Pune, all stories seem to end up here, in this building.”  Parisar is thus a model of a tolerant society that not only accepts differences but even respects, maintains and transcends them at the same time. The translation is lucid, and the translator labels her endeavour as ‘interpretive performance’ and a journey beyond imaginary borders. A good read indeed.

.

Somdatta Mandal, critic and translator, is a former Professor of English at Visva-Bharati, Santiniketan, India.

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International

Categories
Poetry

Poetry by Ramakanta Rath

Ramakanta Rath (1934-2025). Photo Courtesy: Pinaki Rath
Sri Radha Canto 58

You are the fragrance of rocks,
the lamentation of each flower,
the unbearable heat of the moon,
the icy coolness of the blazing sun,
the language of my letters to myself,
the smile with which all despair is borne,
the millenniums of waiting without a wink of sleep,
the ultimate futility of all rebellion,
the exquisite idol made of aspirations,
the green yesterdays of deserts,
the monsoon in an apparel of leaves and flowers,
the illuminated pathway from the clay to the farthest planet,
the fantastic time that's half-day and half-night,
the eternity of the sea's brief silence,
the solace-filled conclusion of incomplete dreams,
the dishevelled moment of an awakening with a start,
the reluctant star in the sky brightening at dawn,
the unspoken sentences at farewell,
the restless wind sentenced to solitary confinement,
the body of fog seated on a throne,
the reflection asleep on the river's abysmal bed,
the undiscovered mine of the most precious jewel,
the outlines of lunacy engraved in space, and
the untold story of lightning.
You have, my dearest, always suffered
all my inadequacies with a smile.
I know I am not destined to bring you back once you've left.
All I can do hereafter, till the last day of my life,
is to collect the fragments of what you are
and try to piece them together.


Sri Radha Canto 19

Come, take half
of the remainder of my life,
but fill every moment
of the half that is mine
with your infatuation.
Was the bargain unfair?
Then leave me with a single moment
and take away the rest of my life,
but like the sky,
fill the whole space
above that moment.

No, not like the sky.
Come closer and become the cloud
over my past, present and future
so that, when I touched myself,
I would touch the monsoon of your body.
Your sighs would breathe
the gale spewed by the despair
of a distant ocean
and, when I smile
and touch myself,
the gale would cease.

My lifetime,
unconcerned with its nearing death,
would everyday renew its pilgrimage
to the early years of your youth.
You would exist as a mass of blue
carved by my command,
or as the blue
of all my known, partly known
and unknown desires.
Since I always dress in blue,
you too must be blue.
How can you have any other colour when
it would break my heart
if you had any other hue other than blue?

Was the bargain unfair?
Then come, take away
even that single moment.
But do not bend down, look straight
into my eyes.
Meet the impudent traveller
who has passed through hell after hell
and, at the end of the very last hell,
stands under a kadamba tree
and awaits your coming.


Sri Radha Canto 25

It was a bad day yesterday.
My husband dragged me by the hair
and knocked my head against the wall
several times, and insisted
that I come out with the true account
of where I had spent the previous night.
It hurt for some time,
but when he began an inspection
of my body, I could not
hold back my laughter.

God, I said to myself,
what an imbecile I have
for a husband!
He is looking for proof
of my infidelity
in the body
and at daytime too!

Sri Radha Canto 61

Reports of your passing away
have reached us here.

Don’t count me
among your widows
or among those who carry your body
in procession.

Your body, mercifully,
Is far, far away.

In the parting of my hair,
the vermilion mark
is brighter than ever.
Now stop joking,
become the bridegroom,
and come.

I wear
the bride’s heavy silk
and gold.
My bangles tinkle
And snub all sandals.

You no longer are
anyone’s father, son, husband.
You are the pure naughtiness
of our last night together,
the voice
that teases me,
and the touch that breaks
the virginity of my loneliness.
Just when I would stop crying,
you will arrive and tickle
my lifeless longing
into unrestrained laughter.

When they deposit your body
on the pyre,
all that you ever meant to them
will be consumed by flames.
They would return home
and, a few days later,
would fill your absence
with thoughts of you
and a thousand other things.

My joy today
is uncontrollable.
If you had not died for them,
you would not have become
entirely mine.

Since everyone believes you are dead,
my journey to the riverbank
will now be without fear.
All claims to you are now void,
Except mine.
They will forget I was ever there
Or even know how I held on
To your glamour-doll shoulders.

I fold up
Under your common hand of desire
As you disable my jelly-limbs
Filling my spaces
Beyond all that exists
Or does not exist.

Ramakanta Rath is one of the most renowned modernist poets in the Odia literature. The quest for the mystical, the riddles of life and death, the inner solitude of individual selves, and subservience to material needs and carnal desires are among this philosopher-poet’s favourite themes. His poetry betrays a sense of pessimism along with counter-aesthetics, and he steadfastly refuses to put on the garb of a preacher of goodness and absolute beauty. His poetry is full of melancholy and laments the inevitability of death and the resultant feeling of futility. The poetic expressions found in his creations carry a distinct sign of symbolic annotations to spiritual and metaphysical contents of life. Often transcending beyond ordinary human capabilities, the poet reaches the higher territories of sharp intellectualism.

The contents have varied from a modernist interpretation of ancient Sanskrit literature protagonist Radha in the poem “Sri Radha” to the ever-present and enthralling death-consciousness espoused in “Saptama Ritu” (The Seventh Season). Some of his other major poetry collections include Kete Dinara (Of a Long ,Long Time), Aneka Kothari (Many Rooms), Sandigdha Mrigaya (Suspicious Hunting), Sachitra Andhara (Picturesque Darkness), and Sri Palataka (Mr. Escapist).

Ramakanta Rath was born in Cuttack, Orissa (India) on 13th December 1934 and passed way on 15th March 2025.

He obtained his MA in English Literature from Ravenshaw College, Orissa. He joined the Indian Administrative Service in 1957 but continued his writing career. He retired as Chief Secretary Orissa after holding several important posts in the Central Government such as Secretary to the Government of India. He received the Sahitya Akademi Award in 1977, Saraswati Samman in 1992, Bishuva Samman in 1990 and India’s 3rd highest civilian honour, the Padma Bhushan in 2006. He was the Vice President of the Sahitya Academy of India from 1993 to 1998 and the President of the Sahitya Akademi of India from 1998 to 2003, New Delhi. In February 2009 he was awarded a fellowship by the Central Sahitya Akademi.

These cantos have been excerpted from Ramakanta Rath’s own translation of his long Odiya poem, “Sri Radha”, by his son, Pinaki Rath.

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL. 

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Kindle Amazon International

Categories
Excerpt

The Wanderers, Lost and Seeking

Title: Wanderers, Adventurers, Missionaries: Early Americans in India

Author: Anuradha Kumar

Publisher: Speaking Tiger Books

INTRODUCTION

The Wanderers, Lost and Seeking

The people you will meet here—the ‘first Americans in India’—were indeed all wanderers. They came, not attached to the intentions of a country, or even protected by it, unlike their peers, the Englishmen who made up the East India Company, and who came to trade backed by a royal charter granted by Elizabeth I in the year 1600.

The wanderers, the first of whom came at a time when the United States of America had not come into being—and their actions, thus, were different from what was ordained as state policy. The ‘wanderers’ were not ‘state actors’ in that sense, but they, men, and some women, came to India, on their own, driven by their own spirit of search. They were brought here by a sense of adventure, or by a wild dream—that of finding something that would make their fortune—gold or inspiration quite like gold—or by the need to do something good and enobling.

But they were in some ways quite lost after they came to India.

Stepping Into a Mosaic

To these wanderers who travelled to Asia between 1700-1950s, India came as a mosaic of many impressions, a spread of colour and many experiences. It offered a field of new sensations compelling them to revise received knowledge. They were intrigued, they saw its contradictions, its strangeness, and how things were very different from the homes they had left behind. In the process, life for these wanderers was made afresh.

They came as traders, adventurers, military men, fortune hunters, seekers of knowledge, storytellers, mystics, those seeking a new career, or who came simply to serve.

To them, India—that looked quite different from what it does now—was a land of adventure. A land to make a fortune in, or to find fame.

It was a mysterious, magical place, one that fuelled the imagination, a land that contained the ancient truths of the universe. Yet it was a place caught in the ‘medieval age’, a place they had been sent to, a matter ‘divinely ordained’—as the missionaries and mystics believed—to save souls.

A place one could write about, for it was as strange as fiction; it was a land that offered inspiration and where one could find new, yet old, wisdom. A place to serve and cure and heal. A land where a new world was possible, or an arena to set the world aright.

The wanderers were awed and overwhelmed, and then, scandalized and shocked in equal measure. Some of what they wrote mirrored each other’s experiences. For example, their surprise at the number of servants that were needed. The astonishing beauty of the temples. The majesty of the Taj Mahal. The artistry produced by craftsmen and artisans, an art passed down generations. The riot of unexpected colour—in the bazaars, in the turbans men wore, and in the forests with ‘exotic’ fauna and flora yet to be named and classified by the new science of taxonomy. Balmy days spent on houseboats—‘doongas’—in Kashmir. The spiciness of the food, the liberal doses of pepper in curries. And then, the sad state of its women, especially the child brides, and the young widows, who had to be ‘saved’. The timeless stubbornness of the caste system. The very unchanging nature of things.

Change in America

To look at this period—1700-1950—and talk of Americans is somewhat anomalous. For one thing, for the early part of this time, America was a British colony. By the mid-1770s things would change. The United States of America emerged as a new political entity only in 1776.

On the other hand, from the early 18th century onward, the once dominant Mughal Empire was in decline. Aurangzeb, the last powerful ruler of that dynasty, had worn himself and the empire out with his battles in the Deccan and the upsurge of discontent elsewhere that he failed to contain. Even before the Battle of Plassey in 1757 tilted the balance—beginning in the east—in the East India Company’s favour, India was a patchwork of regional rulers, each brimming over with ambition and jostling for power. To adventurers and fortune-seekers—like the ‘wanderers’—who had no master, who came lacking the conqueror’s zeal, but who had their own sense of adventure, such a state of affairs was ideal to make a fortune, to remake a life.

It is thus of little surprise that the first of the wanderers came as part of the East India Company, to associate themselves with it, as ordinary private traders. America at that time, showed the same precarity that characterized India. It was a continent divided up between competing European powers, and to the west of the continent, the different native American groups too had their territories.1

In the next decades, as America extended westward into new frontiers, set its own foundations as a young democracy, some of the wanderers, citizens of a new nation, also faced their own frontiers, as they sailed eastward onto an unknown land.

Most of these early travellers were those who lived on the northeastern seaboard of the American continent, that is, in the port towns of New England that had historic links with England since the early 17th century. These travellers who came all the way from the faraway West to the East were immigrants themselves, children of people who had moved a generation or two ago, a westward journey from Europe to the ‘New World’. The wanderers to India—the South Asian subcontinent—were thus children of wanderers themselves.

(Extracted from Wanderers, Adventurers, Missionaries: Early Americans in India by Anuradha Kumar. Published by Speaking Tiger Books, 2025)

THE BOOK

In 1833, Frederic Tudor, an American businessman, made history when he shipped 180 pounds of ice harvested from Walden Pond in Boston, to Calcutta—this luxury item being much in demand amongst the elites of British India. Tudor was deservedly christened the ‘Ice King’, and soon built a flourishing trade exporting American ice to India.

Others were drawn to the country by less materialistic goals. Like the ‘medical missionaries’ who were deeply concerned with the ‘women’s condition’ in India. Ida Scudder’s efforts in the 1900s resulted in the setting up of the Christian Medical College in Vellore, which continues to save lives till this day; in 1873, ‘Doctor Miss Sahiba’ Clara Swain set up the first hospital for women and children in Asia, in Bareilly, on land donated by the Nawab of Rampur.

There were also those who came to stay. Twenty-two-year-old Samuel Evans Stokes came to Kotgarh in the Himalayan foothills in 1904, embraced Hinduism and became Satyanand Stokes. He revolutionized apple cultivation in the area, now in Himachal Pradesh, by introducing the ‘Red Delicious’ apples of Missouri; today, his descendants still live and work in the region. Likewise, the Alter family. Martha and David Emmet Alter arrived in Mussoorie in 1917, to spend the summer studying at the Landour Language School; in 1941, Emmet became principal of Woodstock School, just around the hillside. Twenty-five years later, his son Robert occupied the same position. Robert’s son Stephen continues to live in Mussoorie, pursuing a successful writing career; his cousin Tom Alter was a much-loved actor in Indian films until he passed away in 2017.

These are just some of the ‘first Americans in India’ who came here, beginning in the 1700s, with different motives and dreams—as adventurers, traders, reformers, writers and artists. All of them, without exception, were fascinated, astonished, moved and, in the end, profoundly changed by their ‘Indian experience’.

Anuradha Kumar’s skilful and well-researched account of these early visitors makes this an important and engrossing book that informs, surprises and amuses in equal measure.

THE AUTHOR

Anuradha Kumar lived in Mumbai for over a decade, where she worked for the Economic and Political Weekly. She now lives in New Jersey in the US, and writes often for Scroll, The India Forum, The Missouri Review, Catamaran Literary Reader, The Common and Maine Literary Review. Two of her essays received ‘notable’ mention in Best American Essays editions of 2023 and 2024.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Categories
Review

Proclamation for the Future

Book Review by Bhaskar Parichha

Title: Raisina Chronicles: India’s Global Public Square 

Author: S. Jaishankar & Samir Saran

Publisher: Rupa Publications

Raisina Chronicles: India’s Global Public Square by  S. Jaishankar and Samir Saran commemorates a decade of the Raisina Dialogue, India’s flagship geopolitical and geo-economics conference. The book reflects on the journey of the Raisina Dialogue and its impact on global discourse. It brings together contributions from leaders, thinkers, and diplomats, scholars, and policymakers worldwide, offering insights into addressing global challenges through collaboration and dialogue.

S. Jaishankar has been India’s External Affairs Minister since May 2019 and represents Gujarat in the Rajya Sabha. He was the Foreign Secretary from 2015 to 2018 and has held ambassadorial roles in the U.S., China, and the Czech Republic, as well as High Commissioner to Singapore. He authored notable books like The India Way: Strategies for an Uncertain World and Why Bharat Matters. Samir Saran is the President of the Observer Research Foundation (ORF), a leading Indian policy think tank. He has enhanced ORF’s influence in the U.S. and the Middle East and provides strategic guidance at the board level. Saran curates the Raisina Dialogue, co-chairs the World Economic Forum’s Global Future Council on Geopolitics, and serves on the Board of Governors of The East West Centre in the US. He has written five books, edited key monographs and journals, and contributed to numerous academic papers and essays, appearing in both Indian and international media.

The book brings together voices from across the world—of leaders and thinkers reflecting on the Raisina Dialogue’s impact on how we may navigate global challenges and create solutions that work. Putting India at the forefront of leading the change, the effect of these Dialogues is felt across policies and projections.

The editors emphasise that diversity, dissent, discord, and divergence of opinion make for the necessary ingredients for a sustainable future, shaped and owned by all. Ten years since its inception, the Raisina Dialogue has become the paramount platform for bringing together cultures, peoples and opinions. It is now India’s flagship geopolitical and geo-economics conference and has truly become a global public square—located in New Delhi, incubated by the world.

It emphasises the importance of diversity in thought, approaches, beliefs, and politics. It highlights how pluralism and heterogeneity contribute to resilience and societal evolution. Raisina Dialogue serves as a platform for inclusive participation, welcoming voices from underrepresented geographies and institutions.

While it showcases India’s emergence as a global leader in addressing development challenges and fostering international cooperation, it reflects the philosophy of Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam (the world is one family) and its efforts to harmonise local solutions with global needs.

Through initiatives like the G20 Presidency, India has shared transformative models such as digital public infrastructure (e.g., India Stack), offering templates for financial inclusion and tech-enabled development globally.

Alongside the carefully organised discussions, Raisina Chronicles examines the evolution of the Dialogue and presents its audience with a comprehensive volume that offers deep insights and an unwavering optimism for achieving shared solutions to worldwide issues.

As the globe approaches significant structural and historical transformations, the core aspiration of this work is to ensure that the voices of the populace are prioritised in global politics and policymaking, echoing through influential circles and reaching the broader community. For leaders to effect change, it is essential for society to unite and take a decisive step forward in the right direction.

Raisina Dialogue is also portrayed as a crucial venue for bridging divides in a fractured world. It fosters open discussions among diverse stakeholders—diplomats, scholars, business leaders, civil society members—to discover shared futures and solutions. The book underscores the importance of dialogue over polemics and inclusivity over exclusivity in shaping global policies.

Contributions from high profile global leaders such as Kyriakos Mitsotakis (Prime Minister of Greece), Mette Frederiksen (Prime Minister of Denmark), Penny Wong (Australian Foreign Minister) and others enrich the book with perspectives on international cooperation, climate goals, defence partnerships, and multilateralism.

The book serves as both a retrospective of the Raisina Dialogue’s achievements over ten years and a forward-looking guide for navigating global challenges. It positions India at the heart of global conversations, highlighting its role in fostering equitable dialogue and creating solutions that resonate across borders.

This volume is not just a collection of essays but also an intellectual testament to the transformative power of dialogue in shaping a sustainable future for humanity.

Bhaskar Parichha is a journalist and author of Cyclones in Odisha: Landfall, Wreckage and ResilienceUnbiasedNo Strings Attached: Writings on Odisha and Biju Patnaik – A Political Biography. He lives in Bhubaneswar and writes bilingually. Besides writing for newspapers, he also reviews books on various media platforms.

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International

Categories
Poetry

The Cleft Stick

By Vidya Hariharan

From Public Domain
They took away the knives,
The scissors, the forks,
The matchbox, lighters, candles,
Hammer, nails, tape,
Ropes, ribbons, bottles
Made of glass, metal jars,
My dog, my children.
For safekeeping --
So they said.
You can have them back
Anytime you want
As long as you
Learn to walk, not fly
To speak, not scream,
To kiss, not bite,
To look, not stare,
To blink, not wink,
In short, not die, not live.
Exist, having expunged.


Vidya Hariharan is an avid reader, traveller, poet and teacher. Currently she resides in Mumbai, India.

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International

Categories
Editorial

Celebrating Borderless… Five Years and Counting…

Emerging by Sybil Pretious

Drops of water gather to make a wave. The waves make oceans that reshape land masses over time…

Five years ago, on March 14th, in the middle of the pandemic, five or six of us got together to start an online forum called Borderless Journal. The idea was to have a space that revelled with the commonality of felt emotions. Borderless was an attempt to override divisive human constructs and bring together writers and ideators from all over the Earth to have a forum open to all people — a forum which would be inclusive, tolerant, would see every individual as a part of the fauna of this beautiful planet. We would be up in the clouds — afloat in an unbordered stratosphere— to meet and greet with thoughts that are common to all humans, to dream of a world we can have if we choose to explore our home planet with imagination, kindness and love. It has grown to encompass contributors from more than forty countries, and readers from all over the world — people who have the same need to reach out to others with felt emotions and common concerns.

Borderless not only celebrates the human spirit but also hopes to create over time a vibrant section with writings on the environment and climate change. We launch the new section today on our fifth anniversary.

Adding to the wealth of our newly minted climate and environment section are poems by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal on the LA fires, Green by Mark Wyatt and Ecopoetry by Adriana Rocha in our March issue. We also have poetry on life in multiple hues from Kiriti Sengupta, Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Snehaprava Das, Stuart McFarlane, Arshi Mortuza, George Freek, Ahmad Al-Khatat, Jyotish Chalil Gopinathan, Michael Burch, Bibhuti Narayan Biswal, Owais Farooq and Rakhi Dalal. Tongue-in-cheek humour in poetry is Rhys Hughes forte and he brings us just that in his sign poem.

 Devraj Singh Kalsi with a soupçon of ironic amusement muses on humans’ attitude to the fauna around him and Farouk Gulsara lays on a coating of sarcasm while addressing societal norms. Meredith Stephens brings us concerns for a green Earth when she beachcombs in a remote Australian island. Prithvijeet Sinha continues to familiarise us with his city, Lucknow. Suzanne Kamata, on the other hand travels to Rwanda to teach youngsters how to write a haiku!

Professor Fakrul Alam takes us to libraries in Dhaka with the hope that more will start writing about the waning of such paradises for book lovers. Other than being the month that hosts World Environment Day, March also homes, International Women’s Day. Commemorating the occasion, we have essays from Meenakshi Malhotra on the past poetry of women and from Ratnottama Sengupta on women in Bengali Cinema. Sengupta has also interviewed Poulami Bose Chatterjee, the daughter of the iconic actor Soumitra Chatterjee to share with us less-known vignettes from the actor’s life. Keith Lyons has interviewed Malaysian writer-editor Daphne Lee to bring to us writerly advice and local lores on ghosts and hauntings. 

Our fiction truly take us around the world with Paul Mirabile giving us a story set Scotland and Naramsetti Umamaheswararao giving us a fable set in a Southern Indian forest. Swati Basu Das takes us on an adventure with Peruvian food while sitting by the Arabian Sea. Munaj Gul gives a heart-rending flash fiction from Balochistan. And Zoé Mahfouz shares a humorous vignette of Parisian life, reflecting the commonality of felt emotions.

Celebrating the wonders of the nature, is a book excerpt from Frank S Smyth’s The Great Himalayan Ascents. While the other excerpt is from Hughes’ latest novel, The Devil’s Halo, described as: ‘A light comedy, a picaresque journey – like a warped subterranean Pilgrim’s Progress.’ We have reviews that celebrate the vibrancy of humanity. Bhaskar Parichha writes of Sandeep Khanna’s Tempest on River Silent: A Story of Last 50 Years of India, a novel that spans the diversity that was India. Malashri Lal reviews Rachna Singh’s Raghu Rai: Waiting for the Divine, a non-fiction on the life and works of the famous photographer. Somdatta Mandal discusses two book by Tsering Namgyal Khortsa reflecting the plight of Tibetan refugees, a non-fiction, Little Lhasa: Reflections in Exiled Tibet and a fiction, Tibetan Suitcase.

One of features that we love in Borderless is that language draws no barriers — that is why we have translations by Professor Alam of Jibananada’s short poems on the impact of war on the common masses. We have a small vignette of Korea from Ihlwha Choi’s self-translated poem. And we have a translation of Tagore’s verses invoking the healing power of spring… something that we much need.

We also have a translation by Lourdes M Supriya from Hindustani of a student’s heartrending cry to heal from grief for a teacher who faced an untimely end — a small dirge from Tanvir, a youngster with his roots in Nithari violence who transcended his trauma to teach like his idol and tutor, the late Sanjay Kumar. With this, we hope to continue with the pandies corner, with support from Lourdes and Anuradha Marwah, Kumar’s partner.

Borderless has grown in readership by leaps and bounds. There have been requests for books with writings from our site. On our fifth anniversary, we plan to start bringing out the creative writing housed in Borderless Journal in different volumes. We had brought out an anthology in 2022. It was well received with many reviews. But we have many gems, and each writer is valued here. Therefore, Rhys Hughes, one of our editorial board members, has kindly consented to create a new imprint to bring out books from the Borderless Journal. We are very grateful to him.

We are grateful to the whole team, our contributors and readers for being with us through our journey. We would not have made it this far without each one of you. Special thanks to Sohana Manzoor for her artwork too, something that has almost become synonymous with the cover page of our journal.  Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

Wish you all happy reading! Do pause by our content’s page and take a look at all the wonderful writers.

Best wishes,

Mitali Chakravarty

borderlessjournal.com

Click here to access the contents page for the March 2025 issue

Happy Birthday Borderless… Click here to read.

Vignettes from a Borderless World… Click here to read a special fifth anniversary issue.
Categories
Essay

Drinking the Forbidden Milk of Paradise…

By Meenakshi Malhotra

Mount Parnassus in Greece, where the muses were said to gather, was regarded as the home of poetry: From Public Domain

For the longest time, women were uncomfortable occupants of the house of poesy[1], particularly where there were existing canons of poetry established by the institutional gate-keepers and male custodians of literature. At best, they were viewed as Jane-come-latelies who sought to transgress the hitherto hallowed domains of high verse, interlopers to the hallowed heights of Parnassus who dared not “drink the milk of paradise”.

This ‘absence’ of women from the terrain of poetry is in spite of the fact that women have always written poetry, from ancient times to now. Sappho in the western tradition, was a Grecian poet from 5th-6th century BCE who was the pioneer of lyric poetry, a genre which apart from being set to music, also inaugurated the poetic ‘I’. In India, Buddhist nuns in the Mahayana and Theravadas who wrote poems known as the therigathas were early precursors of female poets. These early women poets engaged in the sometimes forbidden, sometimes lascivious charms of verse and versification. Down the ages, there were many others who joined them and kept the lamp of women’s versification lit. However, if women have always been versifiers, why has there been a  resistance and grudging admission for women to the poetic domain, which becomes a sort of “No (Wo)man’s land”? Why do women poets have only a token presence in traditional poetic anthologies?

Some reasons have been offered, not least among them being the preponderance of male poets who have often also been self-proclaimed and self-appointed guardians, legatees and arbiters of poetic tradition. Canonical poetic traditions, many claim, require a knowledge and understanding of Latin and Greek in the West while a knowledge of Sanskrit/Persian in the Asian context was deemed necessary. Thus women, who, for the most part, lacked formal education and had but small Latin and less Greek, could only hover around the margins and fringes of poetry. The situation with Sanskrit and Persian was similar and women remained mostly absent from or shadowy denizens of poetic terrains. Even if and when women were writing, they were doing so in colloquial registers and in the languages of the common people  and not in formal or decorative language, deemed essential for poetry, for the most part. Almost the first group of women writing poetry in India were Buddhist nuns who wrote in Pali, one of the many ancient languages in the ancient Indian subcontinent, which enshrined its own scholarly tradition. Sappho wrote in the Greek Aeolic dialect, which was difficult for Latin writers to translate.

Between 12th and 17th century, there was an advent  of devotional mystic poetry called “Bhakti” and “Sufi” poetry. While the poems were uttered/written in a devotional idiom, the poems and songs were often rebellious and iconoclastic, rejecting institutional religions and social norms. This poetry was rooted in personal and unmediated devotion and rejected formal languages and established societal norms. Some of this poetry was in an informal register, colloquial language and performative with a strong dramatic quality. Thus we have lines in Kannada from Akka Mahadevi (1130-1160) who rejects her earthly husband:

I love the handsome one: He has  no death decay nor form… no end no clan, no land.
Take these husbands who die, decay, and feed them to your kitchen fires.(Vachanas)

Women poets for the longest time had a crisis of identity, identification and non-belonging. They laboured under the anxiety of authorship where they felt the absence of precursors and fore-mothers and the lack of a poetic tradition to which they could belong. They were often made to feel as if they lacked genuine poetic talent or that they were transgressors against womanhood and femininity.

In Aurora Leigh (1855) by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, the eponymous title character, considers  the diverse fields of literature where women can exercise their talent and claim a space. The field of dramatic writing poses a challenge because the former demands that the woman writer be in the public eye in order to promote her plays. Further, to achieve or even aspire to the rank of Poet, Aurora must become capable of  “widening a large lap of life to hold the world-full woe”. Over the course of the long epic poem, she tries to reconcile her femininity with her artistic aspirations. In both cases, she is denied emotional fulfilment. She refuses to accept the role of an obedient wife, since it would mean foregoing the intellectual independence needed to develop as an artist, but then she must also refuse the love of a husband. In Book Five, she mentions three poets, none of whom she admires for their “popular applause”. Yet she admits that she envies them for the time they can devote to their chosen vocation and the adoring women that surround them and provide emotional support and fill their days with glory.

Another issue with women’s writing and poetry is the uncomfortable positioning of women in relation to patriarchal language or male centred language. If as Dale Spender  declares in “Man-made Language”, the masculine is asserted as the norm, where do we position women’s voices? While language is a universal medium of communication, man-made language is full of sexism and chauvinism and expresses reality from a predominantly masculine and patriarchal perspective. If language is a social system which women are persuaded or co-opted to use, how do they work within its confines to express their poetic aspirations? How do they stretch, bend, subvert language to express their own realities? Can we read techniques of irony, satire and other figurative and metaphoric strategies of defiance and subversion and an attempt to undermine from within?

Juliet Mitchell in her essay on ‘Femininity, Narrative and Psychoanalysis’ states that the woman writer/novelist must of necessity be a hysteric, straddling two opposed worlds. One world is that of male definitions and conceptions of femininity  and the other, a resistance and defiance of such conceptualising, accompanied by an attempt to undermine from within. Her defiance and resistance makes her character that of a hysteric, one who defies accepted notions and standards of femininity and is therefore considered transgressive. She troubles fixed gender categories, roles and definitions. She also disrupts and challenges the symbolic order of language, one which insists on rules of grammar and linguistic structures through the semiotic order which uses word play, repetitions and  childish rhymes, in order to express inner desires and drives. The symbolic order deals with the denotative aspects of language and the semiotic order with the affective aspect.

Women’s poetry often houses and accommodates the semiotic, seeming psychobabble that plays with and disturbs fixed notions of femininity and binary gender identities.

What are the popular themes that inform women’s poetry? Some themes are to with women’s search for authentic  self-hood and identity, their search for roots and a space of their own. As we see in Aurora Leigh, much of women’s poetry is self-conscious and self-reflexive, about the act of writing itself, the “awful daring of a moment’s surrender which an age of prudence could never retract.”(T.S.Eliot

Many contemporary women poets, across continents, have evinced a substantial  interest in exploring their poetic self  through their poems. On the one hand is the confessional poetry of Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton, on the other the brief gnomic utterances of Emily Dickinson. Before the advent of the twentieth century, one hears of Barrett Browning, Emily Dickinson and Christina Rossetti, among many others. Names like Aphra Behn and Anne Bradstreet have been included in many syllabi, often as a token inclusion in an otherwise male centric course.

Women poets have talked about the horrors of war including rape, pillage and destruction. In their critique of war and violence, we find the forging of transnational solidarities, whether it is women’s poetry from Sri Lanka or Birangona (War heroines). 

In India the many names that come to mind are that of  Kamala Das, Eunice D’Souza, Meena Alexander, Sujata Bhatt and Sunuti Namjoshi. Women poets have employed effective means to explore the entire gamut of experience.The private  and the public domain, their process of  self-analysis; the process of poetic creativity and a probe into  poetic identities are all significant fields of exploration. For these women writers, analysing the creative process becomes much more than just a poetic theme. As they unravel the mystery of their poetic psyche in their writings, it becomes an epiphanic journey for the poets and their readers.

[1] Archaic word for poetry

Dr Meenakshi Malhotra is an Associate Professor of English Literature at Hansraj College, University of Delhi, and has been involved in teaching and curriculum development in several universities. She has edited two books on Women and Lifewriting, Representing the Self and Claiming the I, in addition  to numerous published articles on gender, literature and feminist theory.  Her most recent publication is The Gendered Body: Negotiation, Resistance, Struggle.

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International