Robihara 2 (Sunless 2) by Nazrul has been translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam. Click here to read.
Chapter 1 of Isa Kamari’s novel, The Throne,has been translated by the author from Malay. We will be running the whole novel as serial through the year. Click here to read.
An excerpt from Aslam Dostain‘s novel, Sótkál, has been translated from Balochi by Fazal Baloch. Click hereto read.
A Sudden Shower has been written and translated from Korean by Ihlwha Choi. Clickhere to read.
Jhor or Storm, a poem by Tagore, has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty. Click here to read.
Rain, Steam, and Speed – The Great Western Railway, 1844, Painting by Joseph Mallord William Turner
Perhaps, the only constant that makes a difference in this ever-transforming world is how we react to changes around us. How do we interact with not just humans but our whole planet with its climate, contours, its plethora of flora and fauna? Will that impact our survival in the long run? And yet with our focus on legacies, traditions, beliefs, we tend to ignore the call to adapt to the new that might help us move towards an unpredictable future. We forget perhaps that these systems had all been made by our ancestors to ensure survival. Somewhere along the way, these have become like fences caging us into small subsets. The strange thing is we continue to allow that to happen and create enclosures which we fight to maintain. The future that we face now seems even more tumultuous with climate change, rising sea levels and global warming taking a front seat while influx of refugees from war and natural disasters have already started making themselves felt. Add to that the shortages of resources that we have taken for granted for centuries. How would we survive these?
Is it by redefining the constructs we have created or just meeting in corners and finding commonalities as suggested by Ryan Quinn Flanagan in his poem ‘Corners’?
Corners are a meeting place, they hold a room together
Our poetry section often reflects what we experience, feel or see around us. We have poems on how nature overrides human constructs by Khayelihle Benghu. In ‘Passport for the Rain‘, she writes:
If rain possessed a passport, it would read: Citizen of every place that drinks.
We also have poetry in our translations with Ihlwha Choi giving us a glimpse of Korean life. Professor Fakrul Alam has brought to us in English a Bengali poem by Nazrul written on the death of Tagore, a poem that was read out in Calcutta radio by the poet himself in 1941. Tagore’s poem, Storm, has been translated in keeping with the heavy downpours in Asia this season. Fazal Baloch has shared an excerpt in English, which reads like a short story, from Aslam Dostain’s Balochi novel, Sótkál, giving us a flavour of the hard life in their region, where self-reliance is a felt need for survival. We have mental heath issues woven into this section with Isa Kamari’s translation of his own Malay novel into English, The Throne. We will be running a chapter every month from this novel.
Book excerpts also has a translation this time with Ramananda Bharati’s Bengali travelogue, The Forest of Snow, brought to us in English by Somdatta Mandal. Aruna Chakravarti has reviewed this non-fiction for us. The other excerpt is from Hughes’ The Biscuit Thief, a book that reflects his distinct brand of absurd humour. Keith Lyons’ interview this time features an excerpt from interviewee Jayanthi Sankar’s short story set in Singapore. Mandal has written on yet another translation from Assamese by Ranjita Biswas of Arupa Patangia Kalita’s The Moonlight Saga. Bhaskar Parichha has discussed Rabindranath Tagore: The Myriad-Minded Man, co-authored by Krishna Dutta and Andrew Robinson. He claims that this book is “is indispensable reading for anyone interested in literature, intellectual history, cultural modernity, or the life of a man whose vision of humanity continues to speak powerfully to an increasingly interconnected world.”
This month’s non-fiction section has trotted around the globe. We have Ravi Varmman K Kanniappan’s essay discussing how to redefine norms. His take is a bit different from Flanagan’s. He tells us, using Huck Finn, Terminator and Sangam Literature, people need to ask not, “What is right?” but “How did I come to believe this is right?” Rengin Uçkan’s writes on the need for framing rules that are compassionate for refugees. And Farouk Gulsara with his inevitable gruff humour talks of climate change while stating things as it is: “Climate change not only shrinks our summer beachwear but also makes outdoor living impossible. Additionally, it’s proving to be more expensive to consume anything…” Jun A. Alindogan narrates how typhoons have increased in number in Philippines and how it affects them while Jeena R. Papaadi reflects on her literary journey. Meredith Stephens shares her sailing adventures in Australia with stunning photographs by Alan Noble. And Suzanne Kamata has brought us a flavour of the unique Zine Fest in Kobe, where both groceries and books find a place!
Devraj Singh Kalsi hovers between fact and fiction. He has a musing which seems like a hash of dark fiction but based on his experiences. He has also shared a story that is purely fictional. Yi-jung Chen brings to us a quirky love story set in Taiwan across time and space while Brindley Hallam Dennis tells a tale about a dog who sits at a table and sips drinks with a straw! Jay Samanta gives a narrative about a modern relationship based on social media output. Naramsetti Umamaheswararao has shared a fable that talks of freeing nature. The issue is, can we really?
In Borderless Journal, we hope to create a space which will help reflect not just the times but also look forward to ideas that can move us towards surviving in a happier world, built on the basis of accepting differences, filled with love, kindness and compassion. While this may sound clichéd and repetitive, given the current climes, these values cannot be emphasised often enough and perhaps our content to an extent does reflect that, sometimes with a soupçon of humour. Do pause by our contents page for this August and tell us what you think.
Winding up this issue, we would like to thank our all contributors for their wonderful writings and photographs. Huge thanks to the Borderless team without who this issue would not have been as vibrant. Special thanks to Sohana Manzoor for her fabulous artwork. Thank you all. All of you together make this journal come alive.
I grew up in a town that was once part of another municipality. Originally called “Binuwangan,” this islet now requires villagers to take a 15-minute boat ride from a small port. My town was named after the Spanish Governor General Jose Francisco De Obando y Solis on May 14, 1753.
I was born in the early 1960s, and it is perhaps an understatement to describe the town as purely rustic; it also boasted forested areas, enchanted trees, shallow fishponds, sprawling rice farms, large vegetable gardens, poultry, and piggeries. I enjoyed both land and water.
Flooding was practically unheard of during my childhood, except for one devastating tropical storm that I believed was the end of the world, characterised by sharp lightning, roaring thunder, incessant rain, and dark, billowing clouds that lasted for days. We lived in a bungalow but had to relocate to a two-story house owned by our grandparents just a few meters away from our residence. Sources indicate that Typhoon Patsy was a Category 4 typhoon that struck the Philippines in November 1970.
At the age of seven, I was perhaps naïve regarding the widespread and severe damage the typhoon inflicted on my hometown. I never imagined that such a catastrophic flood would happen again in my adulthood. I was terribly wrong.
After graduating from college, I noticed a gradual decline in my hometown. Hectares of fishponds in a neighbouring town were reclaimed by the national government to make way for a housing project.
Ironically, the reclaimed area now faces frequent severe flooding due to high tides, inadequate drainage, a weak dike, and powerful typhoons. Similarly, my coastal hometown also experiences these issues. Even during past summers, the area has been flooded despite the scorching heat. When bodies of water are reclaimed without proper infrastructure, towns that were once unaffected become permanent catch basins, eroding and eventually succumbing to salinity and acidity. Residents are being forced to leave their homes and are uprooted from their origins. It is paradoxical that my hometown is famous for a fertility festival, yet water, which is supposed to be life-giving, has now become an agent of death.
The disappearance of material items is always tragic, as they are physical remnants of our memories that are taken from us, making it impossible to recover and restore them. Our memories are often intertwined with the physical objects we hold dear; however, in their absence, our memories become hazy and dim. As we age, our memories become less reliable.
In 2009, Typhoon Ketsana struck the Philippines on a sunny Saturday morning. I remember this vividly, as I was conducting lectures on research and writing at a graduate-level seminary in Manila. After class, a few students invited me to lunch, but it had already started to rain lightly before class ended. The rain intensified as we made our way to a fast-food chain. Unfortunately, the power was out, and there was no food available. Little did we know that the entire city would soon be submerged in a torrential downpour, equal to a month’s worth of rainfall.
Hungry, we attempted to navigate flooded roads, moving from one fast-food restaurant to another, but to no avail. Eventually, we found our way to a friend’s flat in the late afternoon as the water gradually receded. We stayed there for a bowl of hot noodle soup, some biscuits, and herbal tea to warm our spirits during a friendly conversation. However, I couldn’t go home because it was still raining in the evening. I decided to spend the night at the seminary, as I felt it was unsafe to commute.
Upon returning home, I was greeted with chaos—my clothes had turned into rags. My photo album, filled with memories of my childhood, grade school classes, family reunions, social activities, overseas travels, friendly letters, employment certificates, and published articles and poetry, had been washed away in the flood. Bags, millstones, jackets, family heirlooms, and wooden cabinets had also disappeared. My cousin and her family, who had been staying with me, left in a hurry—it was a matter of life and death. Neighbours informed me that the flood inside my home had reached chest-deep, while the water on the street was up to people’s necks. One’s grief is synonymous with lost belongings.
During the 2020 COVID-19 Pandemic, Typhoon Vamco caused extensive damage to our country. Years prior, my siblings and I faced the difficult decision to sell our family home due to persistent flooding. I relocated to an upland neighborhood in Rizal province, where a former student resided.
I initially slept in a small space that served as a community pharmacy, part of our church’s development project. The room had a leaking roof due to overhanging branches and stray cats, while its concrete walls remained unfinished. During heavy rains, the room would flood, requiring basins to catch the leaks. I endured two sleepless nights as the rain and strong winds threatened to blow off my roof. With no electricity, I had to sleep in the dark on benches. My eldest brother, who lives abroad, was concerned for my safety, as he could not reach me. Technology is not always reliable, especially during natural disasters.
Nature can cause devastation to communities that exploit and misuse natural resources. Quarrying is widespread in my area, leading to the erosion of protected landscapes. Montalban has an estimated 16 to 20 active quarrying and rock-crushing plants. Operations are closely monitored for their impact on the Sierra Madre Mountain Range and nearby river basins, particularly in a village called San Isidro.
During typhoon season, silt, mud, and rain flow downstream, causing significant damage to life and property, as seen in many villages during Typhoon Vamco.
In 2025, Rizal Province was declared as in a state of calamity as the province was severely flooded when Typhoon Wipha made landfall. Flats had been constructed on tributaries, and agricultural lands converted to commercial areas, which exacerbated downstream flooding. Additionally, rivers continue to be large dumping sites for household and industrial waste, and flood control measures are inadequate. Protected landscapes are also being sold off.
Climate change is intensifying the severity of floods, and our aquatic ecosystem is greatly impacted by the belief that nature can survive without human intervention. Communities must take responsibility for their actions and work to restore the environment, which could enhance nature’s resilience to future challenges.
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Manuel A. Alindogan, Jr. or Jun A. Alindogan is the Academic Director of the Expanded Alternative Learning Program of Empowered East, a Rizal-province based NGO in the Philippines and is also the founder of Speechsmart Online that specializes in English test preparation courses. He is a freelance writer and a member of the Freelance Writers’ Guild of the Philippines (FWGP).
PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL
Nazrul’slyrics ofMor Ghumogore Elo Monohor (In my Sleep, Came the Enchanting One) has been translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam. Click here to read.
Four of his ownMalay poems have been translated by Isa Kamari. Click here to read.
The Heartless, a Balochi story by AbdulQayum Sarbazi, has been translated by Fazal Baloch. Click here to read.
Dragonfly 2 has been composed and translated from Korean by Ihlwha Choi. Click here to read.
Tagore’s poem, Amra Choli Somukhpane(We Look Forward and March), has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty. Clickhere to read.
Pandies Corner
Songs of Freedom: Pink Dreams is an autobiographical narrative by Priyanka, written and compiled by Deeksha Vats. These stories highlight the ongoing struggle against debilitating rigid boundaries drawn by societal norms, with the support from organisations like Shaktishalini and Pandies. Clickhere to read.
Larry S Su, who migrated from a mud cave in Shaanxi province to America, shares his story of the changes he sees during three visits to his home and muses on the gaps he has observed between these two places. Clickhere to read.
Summer, Dune in Zeeland by Piet Mondrain (1872 – 1944)
Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future, And time future contained in time past.
‘Burnt Norton’, Four Quartets (1941) by TS Eliot
If we look back in time, we have a better life than that of our ancestors. Though conflicts rage and climate change is a reality that we all dread, it can safely be said, we have progressed beyond the imagination of those who lived a hundred years ago. The fact that some books from the past still reverberate with echoes of what the present holds says much for the outliers or authors who could think out of the box. Despite this complex intermingling of ideas and times, perhaps the world will change more now than before. We do not know anything for sure though experts are always predicting a future that for most of us remains unknown. What we can present is our own estimate of what can be and a definite assertion of what is. Truth as such is a matter of perception. That complicates it further. However, one of the changes that is definitely here to stay is climate change and our changing environment. Given that this is the month that homes World Environment Day, we have a smattering of writings that revolve around nature and also the human spirit that defies age.
We have featured a writer who revels in nature and is an ageless voice that bridges multiple cultures, Ruskin Bond. As he turned ninety-two last month, he published multiple new books. We have an excerpt from one of them, Scenes from the Magic Mountain: Five Seasons in the Mussoorie Hills and Beyond, a brilliant collection of snapshots of his interactions with nature over time — be it frogs, snakes or just trees. Some of the vignettes are humorous and some, as all classics are, thought provoking. Bond puts into words how he chose to work in Landour (a small town in Himalayas) and continued to write from there for sixty years. He talks of the spell the mountains cast on him, “I like to think that I have become a part of this Magic Mountain; that by living here for so long, I can claim a relationship with the trees, wild flowers, even the rocks that are an integral part of this landscape.” The other book excerpt is a contrast to Bond’s, a non-fiction called Burnout Highway by Anmol Diddan. It explores the collective suffering of stress at work where achievements distance humans from nature and a fulfilling life and urges readers to be open to changes.
In keeping with the theme of environment, Bhaskar Parichha has reviewed Stephen Alter’s The Fragrance of Rain: A Brief History of the Monsoon. He tells us: “The Fragrance of Rain is much more than a history of weather. It is a meditation on nature, culture, memory, and belonging… Like the season it celebrates, the book is refreshing, nourishing, and lingering in its impact…” While Rakhi Dalal expresses her delight with Shyam Manohar’s The Cold War of Sadanand Borse, a novella translated from Marathi by Jerry Pinto, Meenakshi Malhotra revels in Giti Chandra’s debut book of poems, Setting Traps for Light.
In translations, Professor Fakrul Alam has captured the flavours of Nazrul’s Bengali lyrics, which also echo of the rainy season or monsoons. Isa Kamari brings to us more of his Malay poems in English and Ihlwha Choi shares a rendering of his Korean poem, ‘Dragonfly 2’, into English. One of Tagore’s poems from Balaka (Flight of the Cranes, 1916) has found its way into this issue after being translated. We also have a touching Balochi story around social gaps from the late Abdul Qayum Sarbazi, brought to us in English by Fazal Baloch.
Hughes has continued sharing his short fables, which are absurd but also, comical! A sensitive story about the natural world mingled with Maori concepts by Keiran Martin seems so much in sync with the oceans while Jeena R Papaadi has woven a strange narrative located in a land that only one man could visit. Plamen Vasilev shares a human-interest story set in Europe and Rabiya Rehman takes us to Lahore in quest of a missing destination! Naramsetti Umamaheswararao’s narrative takes us back to a village that opted for trees, thus enriching the environmental lore in this issue.
We have a real life heart rending story from a young girl in our Pandies Corner, written and related by Deeksha Vats, based on the story told by a victim of familial violations and violence.
Our non-fiction section homes Larry Su’s essay on how his life took him from a rural mud cave in Shaanxi province to the glamour of Chicago. Reflecting on the changes he has experienced on his rare visits to his original homeland, Su muses on the cultural and socio-economic gaps he has observed between the two places. Charudutta Panigrahi – as if in direct opposition — shares similarities between two diverse geographies.
Suzanne Kamata explores a custom which may not be that eco-friendly in her column from Japan. Jun A. Alindogan brings home the impact of climate disasters while dwelling on blessings with his narrative about a narrow escape from the Typhoon Ondoy (2009). While Meredith Stephen writes of sailing to Timor Sea with photographs by Alan Noble, Farouk Gulsara takes us on a cycling adventure around the mountains of Titiwangsa. In another musing, he also explores the idea of good and evil in a sardonic tone while Sai Abhinay Penna dwells on the grandeur and vastness of the universe over his morning jog. Gowher Bhat writes of a man for whom age seems to be just a number as he publishes his debut book at 93! One wonders at the frequency of such occurrences — we have writings about two authors above ninety in the June issue. In contrast, Devraj Singh Kalsi brings in mortal fears while writing of visiting doctors with a soupçon of humour – some of it directed at himself.
Perhaps, laughter is really the best medicine to keep well! Ruskin Bond makes us laugh and writes of nature in a way that touches hearts and makes us forget the contrasting glitzy world, where we suffer stress and burnout. Our environment makes a difference, doesn’t it?
With that we wrap up our June issue. Huge thanks to our fabulous team, especially Sohana Manzoor for her wonderful artwork. To all our contributors, heartfelt thanks — we are because you are. And gratitude to our readers who make it worth our while to write and publish here.
We will next meet you during the monsoon months of South Asia though, near the equator, it rains almost every day and, in the Southern Hemisphere, it will be peak winter!
Grace refers to unmerited favour, a universal concept associated with both psychology and philosophy. It signifies the ability to function and thrive amid vulnerabilities and denotes unconditional love, serving as a guiding and healing influence that connects humanity, irrespective of merit or effort. Individuals and even places can act as conduits of grace. There is no such thing as a gracious coincidence; many individuals are often unaware of their own experiences of grace. Reflection is integral to developing this sensitivity.
I was barely out of my teens when my father lay comatose for more than a month in the hospital where I was born. He eventually passed away at 62, leaving my younger siblings and me as minors, and my mother widowed at a young age.
My father wanted my eldest brother to become a certified public accountant, as he was a bookkeeper himself. This dream was realised when my brother passed the exam on his first attempt. I vividly recall the celebration at a Chinese restaurant in the city, where my mother’s co-teachers and supervisors were also present. My father beamed with pride as he engaged in conversation with my mother’s colleagues about my brother’s success. The food was exceptionally delicious, and everyone enjoyed it. In time, my brother secured a position at an established accounting firm, which my father, unfortunately, did not live to see.
On the other hand, my mother lived a full life but passed away two months shy of her 80th birthday due to undocumented dementia. I am uncertain if this condition is genetic. Our family’s request focused on ensuring that my mother would not suffer significantly before her departure. She peacefully passed away almost two decades ago. It was also a most trying time for our family, as my youngest sibling underwent surgery for a benign brain tumour in North America around the time of our mother’s passing. Two months ago, this brother celebrated his 60th birthday.
During the onslaught of Typhoon Ondoy (Typhoon Ketsana), I was away from my coastal suburban home on a weekend while teaching my weekly Academic Writing class at a seminary. It was understandable that my cousin’s family, who were temporarily staying with me, chose to leave our residence as the water level rose to chest height. Regrettably, my clothes, desktop computer, photographs, and both personal and work documents were completely swept away by the flood, and nothing was salvaged in the aftermath.
Impact of Typhoon Ondoy(Ketsana) which occured in 2009 From Public Domain
Two seminary students supported me after this ordeal, without informing them of this tragic episode. One organised clothes from their family closet, providing me with quality clothing and some cash to help me. The other invited me for coffee and pastries at a mall shop, where she also gave me some good clothes and cash in an envelope. We exchanged stories about the ordeal, which made the loss somewhat more bearable.
Years prior to my seminary teaching, I was accepted into an advanced leadership training program at an international institute based in Singapore. However, I needed to raise US $300 as part of my counterpart fee for the month-long training. As a freelance teacher and writer, my funds were limited; however, after corresponding with an elderly lady whom I have never met in person, based in the U.S. and headed a mission-related NGO, kindly sent me a check to cover my training expenses. This experience was particularly memorable, as it marked my first overseas trip.
As part of my routine, I often schedule a massage with a blind masseur at a mall near my residence. After a recent seated massage, I fainted, likely due to the air conditioning’s inability to counteract the heat. The masseur and manager fanned me and provided water once I regained consciousness a few minutes later. These episodes are rare; however, as always, there is someone looking after me.
In terms of my freelance writing, every time I felt discouraged and considered giving it up entirely, opportunities for publication would appear. More importantly, feedback from readers indicates they were able to relate to my stories, as they resonated with their personal experiences. My experiences attest to the enduring quality of grace in various seasons of life, which I continually rediscover, relearn, and rewrite. While the operation of grace is always invisible, its manifestations become clear when an individual recognises that its timeline is not necessarily linear. Last year, an essay on diminishing memory was included in an anthology. While grace is difficult to define, one’s openness is key to understanding how it relates to our everyday encounters. Grace always matters as it continues to abound in all aspects of our lives.
Manuel A. Alindogan, Jr. or Jun A. Alindogan is the Academic Director of the Expanded Alternative Learning Program of Empowered East, a Rizal-province based NGO in the Philippines and is also the founder of Speechsmart Online that specializes in English test preparation courses. He is a freelance writer and a member of the Freelance Writers’ Guild of the Philippines (FWGP).
PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL
In conversation with Teresa Rehmanwith focus on her non-fiction, Bulletproof: A Journalist’s Notebook on Reporting Conflict and a brief introduction to her book. Click here to read.
Translations
Robihara(Sunless)by Kazi Nazrul Islam has been translated by Professor Fakrul Alam from Bengali. Clickhere to read.
Four of his ownMalay poems have been translated by Isa Kamari. Click here to read.
In a world torn by conflict, why would one mention hope or compassion? In an age of dystopian scenarios, why would we dream of utopias?
Perhaps it’s wishful musings, but at some level what people need to survive is probably something to look forward to — a speck of light — a wishful idea called hope. Hope builds resilience. Utopias are built on hope, on love and compassion. Dystopias are built on desperation and despair. They take fear or horror to the extreme and play on people’s vulnerabilities. They might induce a cathartic effect and one might say— we are better off as we are in the present or we must act so that this never happens. Is that something we can really say in a world where wars are disrupting peace and lives of all humanity, where violence against civilians is becoming an accepted norm, where shortages could also be a reality for most of us? Utopias, on the other hand, build on the element of an ideal, a dream towards which we can move on the bleakest day of our existence. They could be used to stir hope and envision a reality devoid of violence. And perhaps, some of it would congeal into a real-world scenario with smaller doses of the bad and ugly. In a conflict-ridden world, which almost feels like a reenactment of George Orwell’s 1984 (only about four and a half decades after his predicted date) what would touch your heart, give you a sense of relief— hope for a better future or dwelling on doomsday predictions? What would you want for your progeny?
Just before the pandemic changed our lives, a book was published where while questing for their own utopia, a group of young people became part of a dystopian reality. They were known as the ULFA rebels[1] and their story was told in Bulletproof:A Journalist’s Notebook on Reporting Conflict by Teresa Rehman. The current relevance of this book cannot be undermined because not only does it humanise the insurgents perspective, but it also shows how a centrist set up can neglect the needs of particular fringe communities. In addition, Rehman’s heartrending stories of poachers and people who live unaccepted in the margins only strengthen the need for an unboxed world where tolerance and compassion would transcend these artificially created fences that divide and lead to violence. This issue features Rehman’s book and an online discussion with her which stretches beyond the confines of pages.
We have more poetry in our translations, some sombre and some funny. A Bengali poem written as a tribute by Nazrul on the death of his older friend, Rabindranath Tagore, has been rendered into English by Professor Fakrul Alam. To add a lighter touch, we have translated a fun-filled poem by Tagore. Isa Kamari continues to translate his own Malay poems to bring in flavours of the culture. This time his poems seem to urge a need to transcend age-old stratifications. We also have a Balochi human-interest story by Younus Hussain brought to us in English by Fazal Baloch.
Hughes’ column too has fiction. His humorous and absurdist fables continue to urge re-evaluation of the world as well as genres. We also have a poignant narrative built around a Vietnamese migrant family by Mario Fenech. Sayan Sarkar shares a tale upending norms set in Kolkata while Naramsetti Umamaheswararao narrates a story about a young boy overcoming his fears. Abhik Ganguly gives us a strange fiction set in the future in a different galaxy, where Earth is seen as the original planet of human evolution.
C Christine Fair, who is an established translator, has surprised us — like Lyons — this time with a personal memoir which dwells on the deeply annihilating impact of norms that define gender roles. Upending the idea of an immutable ruler who can overpower us, is an essay by Ravi Varmman K Kanniappan with its roots in the ruins Rameses II — known as Ozymandias too — and Shelley’s poem of the same name.
We have had an overflow of writing about the unusual and redefining norms in our non-fiction section. Odbayar Dorj weaves an unusual narrative and shares photographs from a village of scarecrows in Japan that has a population of 27 humans and 370 scarecrows. She tells us: “In a place where people and scarecrows live side by side, I began to understand something simple but profound: sometimes, when human presence fades, we find our own ways to fill the silence with memories, imagination, and love.” Humanity never ceases to hope. Filling in silences are narratives by Arathi Devandran and Mubida Rohman on how they deal with the quietness left by departed loved ones.
We have more from Meredith Stephens with photographs by Alan Noble on their trip to Vietnam — as they travel to places that are less touristy while Gowher Bhat explores the Sunday Book Bazaar at Old Delhi. Farouk Gulsara travels back to Penang where he spent his childhood and reflects on changes. Are they always for the best?
Suzanne Kamata takes up changes with a soupçon of humour as she writes of how the AI finally conceded to her husband, “Your wife is not wrong…” while Jun A. Alindogan writes of how social media can create mayhem if misused to spread fake news. Devraj Singh Kalsi resorts to sardonic humour of a darker hue as he explores ways to make a living.
Gulsara has also explored Sam Dalrymple’s Shattered Lands: Five Partitions and the Making of Modern Asiawhich starts with the extent of the British Empire with its western-most point at Aden and stretching in the east to Burma. There was a period from 1839 to 1867, when it stretched from Aden to Singapore[2], which was a part of Malaya, leaving out Siam or Thailand which never succumbed to colonial rule. The book starts at a later date — 1928 — and talks of the piecing of the British Empire, with questionable stances taken by historically heroic figures, thus urging a critical relook at our own past — just over the last hundred years.
Our reviews include Rakhi Dalal’s take on Maithreyi Karnoor’s rather unusual stories fromGooday Nagar.Bhaskar Parichhahas wandered back to non-fiction with the late Kaukub Talat Quder Sajjad Ali Meerza’s Wajid Ali Shah: A Cultural and Literary Legacy, translated from Urdu by Talat Fatima, a history that makes us reassess views on the last of the Awadhi nawabs. Somdatta Mandal has also shares a discussion on Sushila Takbhaure’s My Shackled Life, translated from Hindi by Deeba Zafir and Preeti Dewan, a narrative that showcases the resilience of the author.
This issue could not have been put together without all our wonderful contributors. Heartfelt thanks for sharing your gems with us. Huge thanks to the Borderless team too who continue to support bringing in variety, colour and reinforcing our values. Much thanks to Sohana Manzoor for the fabulous cover art and to all those who share vibrant visuals with their writing. Many thanks to our readers too who make our efforts worthwhile. Do write in with your comments.
Look forward to greeting you all again next month!
I was born in the early 60s. While growing up, I was surrounded by various forms of communication, such as television, radio, magazines, and newspapers. My dad would often read newspapers at night while continuing his bookkeeping tasks at home. His favourite was a traditional broadsheet, as he held conservative political views himself. Due to my Catholic education, I was not exposed to any socially progressive publications during my childhood.
As far as I knew, the existence of alternative media outlets were kept hidden. Even if they were covert, I still believed that their function was to provide a unique perspective on social issues. Since publications were limited in volume and space, it was perhaps relatively easy to separate the truth from lies. Fake news was not as rampant as today’s offline and online mechanisms.
I started freelancing in the late 80s, but it was quite intermittent. My first published piece focused on a televangelist’s downfall due to financial and physical corruption. He had manipulated followers for many years. The case was well-documented in the US, with substantial verified evidence of a money trail and sworn testimonies of victims. The couple confessed to their sins as all proof pointed to their exploitation. With the advancement of technology, it has become increasingly difficult for societies to discern if a particular event is truly authentic or artificially staged. Most individuals find written and moving images appealing, regardless of how extreme, insensitive, foolish, fake, or clever the presentation may be, as long as clickbait has continuously increased.
The sheer volume of YouTube channels offering every type of content makes it exceedingly difficult to determine whether a presentation is shallow and misleading or thoughtful and authentic. For instance, I know there are those who unquestioningly believe all videos circulating online about the country’s political climate and presents them as indisputable truth to those who have not examined the broader context, often making sweeping statements without any credible supporting evidence.
Video diaries of common occurrences are repeatedly presented in different settings, with varying characters, sequences, and incidents. This is not inherently wrong; however, it becomes manipulative when such episodes are portrayed as the standard for everyone. Personal and professional experiences are inherently relative and may vary at any given time; however, this does not mean that there are no socially, spiritually, morally, or intellectually agreed-upon standards or conventions. Some online discussions are staged solely to bully individuals, spread disinformation, and provoke unhealthy conflicts and tiresome quarrels.
Wouldn’t it be better if we could see more spontaneous video presentations online that depict real-time behavioral reactions? This would be a lesson on psychosocial framework and practice.
A friend posted online a random reaction from an elderly man who claimed that every time this former government official ran for public office, she lost, despite her previous victories. Not all spontaneous reactions are truthful.
Online celebrity channels have an advantage over other internet personalities, as they possess greater credibility based on their body of work in television or film. However, these channels may also be deceptive, as they can become overly performative.
How, then, do we determine whether the presentation is authentic or merely staged? Patterns provide clues or indicators. If they are consistently misleading in both volume and content across production after production, this suggests that the episodes are not trustworthy and exist solely for clickbait.
A collage of spliced, unrelated videos presented as proof is essentially a red flag. This tactic is related to ad hominem arguments, which are common among YouTubers seeking to drive a point but, upon legal, philosophical, and semantic examination, tend to crumble. Investigate the videos to see if they have been removed due to inappropriate content. It’s important to note that just because a video has been taken down doesn’t necessarily mean the content was inappropriate, as online judgment can be inaccurate at times. However, the frequency with which the videos have been removed is a factor to consider.
In print, biases or personal and professional agendas must be identified to assess the validity of a piece. Although we all have biases, they must be supported with facts from diverse perspectives so that the work can still be perceived as fair and objective.
We live in precarious times, both offline and online. Danger lurks at every threshold and confronts us at every turn. Vigilance must be exercised and maintained if we are to thrive; otherwise, the world will judge the videos as perpetually peddling lies.
From Public Domain
Manuel A. Alindogan, Jr. or Jun A. Alindogan is the Academic Director of the Expanded Alternative Learning Program of Empowered East, a Rizal-Province based NGO in the Philippines and is also the founder of Speechsmart Online that specializes in English test preparation courses. He is a freelance writer and a member of the Freelance Writers’ Guild of the Philippines (FWGP).
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Jun A. Alindogan gives an account of how an overgrowth of water hyacinth affects aquatic life and upsets the local food chain while giving us a flavourful account of local food. Clickhereto read.
