Tag: Madhuri Bhattacharya

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Contents

Borderless, July 2024

Art by Sohana Manzoor

Editorial

Seasons out of Time… Click here to read.

Conversation

A brief introduction to Suzanne Kamata’s Cinnamon Beach and a conversation with the author about her latest novel. Click here to read.

Translations

Tagore’s Achhe Dukhu, Achhe Mrityu, (Sorrow Exists, Death Exists) has been translated from Bengali by Fakrul Alam. Click here to read.

Nazrul’s Ghumaite Dao Shranto Robi Re (Let Robi Sleep in Peace) has been translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam. Click here to read.

Amalkanti by Nirendranath Chakraborty has been translated from Bengali by Debali Mookerjea-Leonard. Click here to read.

Speech Matters, a story by Naramsetti Umamaheswararao, has been translated from Telugu by Johnny Takkedasila. Click here to read.

Every Day by Hafeez Rauf has been translated from Balochi by Fazal Baloch. Click here to read.

The Long Journey by Ihlwha Choi has been translated from Korean by the poet himself. Click here to read.

Mrityu or Death by Tagore has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty. Click here to read.

Poetry

Click on the names to read the poems

Jared Carter, Michael Burch, Kirpal Singh, Rakhi Dalal, Stuart MacFarlane, Averi Saha, John Grey, Surbhi Sharma, David Francis, Pramod Rastogi, David Mellor, Saranyan BV, Jim Bellamy, Tasneem Hossain, Thompson Emate, George Freek, Mitra Samal, Lizzie Packer, Shamik Banerjee, Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Rhys Hughes

Musings/ Slices from Life

Stop, Look, Think!

Farouk Gulsara muses with a slice irony at a traffic junction. Click here to read.

Norman Rockwell: Out of the Closet

Wayne F. Burke gives a vignette of the life of the legendary illustrator. Click here to read.

Unveiling the Magic of Mystical Mangroves

Sai Abhinay Penna travels to the second largest mangrove forest in the world. Click here to read.

Glimpses of an Indian Summer

Madhuri Bhattacharya nostalgically captures the nuances of a hot summer. Click here to read.

The Pearl of the Indian Ocean

Ravi Shankar travels to Colombo. Click here to read.

Essays

The Myriad Hues of Tagore by Aruna Chakravarti

Aruna Chakravarti writes on times and the various facets of Tagore. Click here to read.

Picked Clean

Snigdha Agrawal writes of the impact from the loss of green cover in Bangalore. Click here to read.

Fast Food for a Month

Keith Lyons gives an in memoriam about the late documentarian, Morgan Spurlock. Click here to read.

Stories

In the Shadows…

Paul Mirabile gives us a story steeped in art and mental health. Click here to read.

The Last Hyderabadi

Mohul Bhowmick talks of the passage of an era. Click here to read.

Alvin and the Curious Case of Spoilt Milk

Anagha Narasimha gives a light hearted piece about the impact of demonetisation. Click here to read.

Book Excerpts

An excerpt from The Poisoner of Bengal/The Prince and the Poisoner by Dan Morrison. Click here to read.

An excerpt from The Sunset Suite by Rhys Hughes. Click here to read.

Book Reviews

Somdatta Mandal reviews Knife:  Meditations After an Attempted Murder by Salman Rushdie. Click here to read.

Basudhara Roy reviews Wild Women: Seekers, Protagonists and Goddesses in Sacred Indian Poetry by Arundhathi Subramaniam. Click here to read.

Navleen Multani reviews Mapping the Mind, Minding the Map, edited by Basudhara Roy and Jaydeep Sarangi. Click here to read.

Bhaskar Parichha reviews Derek Waller’s The Pundits: British Exploration of Tibet and Central Asia. Click here to read.

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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 Out of Time

Climate disasters. From Public Domain
...the horror of dark red sky – the gates of hell opened wide so they say that even atheists prayed to save the souls of the dead...

— Lizzie Packer, 'Hot Dry Summers'

The description in ‘Hot Dry Summers’ is not of hell but what is perceived as happening on certain parts of Earth due to global warming or climate change. Forest fires. Nearer the equator, the storms have become harsher with lightning strikes that seem to connect the Earth to the sky. Trees get uprooted as the soil is softened from excessive rain. Sometimes, they fall on passers-by killing or injuring them. There is no rain in some places, forest fires or flooding in others… The highest temperatures touched 55 degrees Celsius this year. Instead of worrying about losing our homes lodged on land masses to the oceans that continue to rise, becoming dark heat absorbers due to loss of white ice cover, we persistently fight wars, egged on by differences highlighting divisive constructs. It feels strange that we are witness to these changes which seem to be apocalyptic to doomsday sayers. Are they right? Our flora, fauna and food will also be impacted by global climate change. How will we survive these? Will we outlive these as a species?

Keeping the myriad nuances of living on this planet in mind, we have writings from more than a dozen countries showcased in this issue, with a few highlighting climate change and wars — especially in poetry. Michael Burch has given us poetry on weather. John Grey has celebrated nature. Other than Lizzie Packer, Mitra Samal has a subtle poem on climate change. Stuart McFarlane and David Mellor bring the disaster of war to our doorstep. Jared Carter, Kirpal Singh, Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Averi Saha, Shamik Banerjee, David Francis, George Freek, Rakhi Dalal and more have reflected on the varied nuances of life. Rhys Hughes has brought in humour and a comment on our perspectives, with his poem ‘Devil’s Bridge to Istanbul’… Can a shortcut be found across continents with the magic of a signboard?

Poetry in our translations’ section travels to Balochistan, from where a Hafeez Rauf translated from Balochi by Fazal Baloch, talks of burning tyres, again conflicts. It takes on a deeper hue as Ihlwha Choi translates his poignant poem from Korean, reflecting on the death of his mother. We have a translation of Tagore’s less popular poem, Mrityu[1], reflecting on the same theme. His reflections on his wife’s death too have been translated by Professor Fakrul Alam who has also shared a song of Nazrul, written and composed on the death of Tagore. Another lesser-known poet but brilliant nonetheless, Nirendranath Chakraborty, has been translated for us by Debali Mookerjea-Leonard. And what a tremendous poem it is when the person called Amalkanti wanted to be sunshine! We have a story too — ‘Speech Matters’ by Naramsetti Umamaheswararao translated by Johny Takkedasila.

Our stories as usual travel around the world — from Holland (by Paul Mirabile) to Hyderabad (by Mohul Bhowmick) and with a quick pause at Bangalore (by Anagha Narasimha). Travels in the real world are part of our non-fiction. Sai Abhinay Penna takes to a the second largest mangrove forest in the world and Ravi Shankar to Colombo. Madhuri Bhattachrya gives us a glimpse of an Indian summer and Snigdha Aggrawal explores the impact of climate change in her part of the world. Farouk Gulsara actually writes his reflections at a traffic junction. And it reads droll…

We have an in memoriam by Keith Lyons on Morgan Spurlock, the documentary maker who ate McDonald fare for a month and then made a film on it. We have two tributes to two legends across time. Wayne F Burke has given a brief piece on the iconic illustrator, Norman Rockwell. And Aruna Chakravarti, the queen of historic fiction who brought the Tagore family alive for us in her two very well researched novels, Jorasanko and Daughters of Jorasanko, has given us a fabulous tribute to Tagore on the not-so common aspects of him.

We have excerpts from another historical novel set in Bengal of Tagore’s time, Dan Morrison’s The Prince and the Poisoner: The Murder that Rocked the British Raj and Hughes’ The Sunset Suite, a set of absurd tall tales that make you smile, squirm or wonder…  Reviews of Salman Rushdie’s Knife: Meditations After an Attempted Murder by Somdatta Mandal and of Arundhathi Subramaniam’s Wild Women: Seekers, Protagonists and Goddesses in Sacred Indian Poetry by Basudhara Roy bring two latest books to our readers. Navleen Multani reflects on Mapping the Mind, Minding the Map, edited by Basudhara Roy and Jaydeep Sarangi. And Bhaskar Parichha tells us about a group of men called Pundits during British Raj, “In the closed files of the government of British India, however, they were given their true designation as spies…” in his review of Derek Waller’s The Pundits: British Exploration of Tibet and Central Asia.

Suzanne Kamata, the novelist who does a column from Japan for us normally, has spoken to us about her new novel, Cinnamon Beach, which overrides multiple manmade constructs. It’s an interesting read from someone who lives her life across multiple cultures and transcends many boundaries.

This is a bumper issue, and it is difficult to convey the vibrant hues of words that colour this edition. Please do pause by our contents page for a more comprehensive look.

This issue would not have been possible without all our fabulous contributors and a wonderful, dedicated team. We are delighted that Rakhi Dalal — who has done many reviews and shares her poetry with us in this issue — has agreed to be a writer-in-residence with us. A huge thanks to all of you, and especially Sohana Manzoor for her artwork. I am truly grateful to our readers for popularising our efforts to put together an online space with free and vibrant reads.

I would like to end with a few lines that gives me hope despite climate change, wars and doomsday predictions.

There’s more to life,
he says to me,
than what you choose to see. 

— George Freek, 'The Imponderables'

Enjoy the reads.

Mitali Chakravarty

borderlessjournal.com

[1] Death

Click here to access the content’s page for the July 2024 Issue.

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Categories
Nostalgia

Glimpses of an Indian Summer

By Madhuri Bhattacharya

Summer is a reality check that strengthens our resolve to survive each day, after a vacation. It is a sizzling 47 degrees Celsius outside. Even a simple task is a battle that needs to be won. My short morning walk almost finishes me, though I go in the very early hours. It becomes difficult to take it, making me sweat as in the gym. Even an urgent car drive can roast you. Going to the nearest market becomes an odyssey. The best thing about summer is that you can blame everything on it.

As I look back, from April through June, North India would descend into hell. As the mercury rose above 40C, the air turned progressively drier. Homes were cooled with curtains of the fragrant “khus”. This dried herb needed to be watered and the dry wind blows fragrance and moisture into the house. It was surprisingly effective. In school, students routinely suffered nosebleeds and fainted from the heat during morning assembly which  held in the school grounds. Now we have air conditioners in some places.

There were sandstorms accompanying the heat wave from deserts around Delhi. People would shut their doors and windows but the dust would still find its way in. In this lower ring of Hades, students would battle their final exams. Summer always brought the sense of an ending.

What also ended, was the supply of good vegetables. Bhindi (okra), eggplant, gourds, sundry root vegetables were all that could be found in the shops. Everything else died from the heat. But there were cucumbers — long, slender, foot long cucumbers with very fine skin. These were referred to, poetically, as “Laila ki ungliyan; Majnu ki pasliyan[1]”. And there was Rooh Afza: A lurid pink “sherbet” which came in a glass bottle and was made with Unani herbs to counter the heat. Jugs of this were served with ice and slices of lime. There were “cooling” foods with coriander, limes and raw white onions. Icy cold lassi with mint and roasted cumin were invariably present at every meal.

What would summer be without mangoes? We didn’t get the King of mangoes, Alphonso, always but there was the Dusshehri and Langda and so many varieties.   Mangoes in every way and in every variety– juice, pulp, fresh, fried, pickled, jams — sweet savoury.

Men selling Jamun fruit. From Public Domain

Occasionally, on the way out of town as kids, we would buy sugary honeydews and watermelons on the dusty road of Rajasthan. A tall glass of nimbu pani[2], watermelon juice, buttermilk were very welcome.  Or relief of a cool shower at the conclusion of a punishing day. The soothing balm of an evening breeze. Sometimes, we bought deep purple Jamuns from handcarts. These stained our faces and dresses with its colour. The dresses would be thin cottons or muslin which turned into butter with repeated washes.

The summer was as cruel as it was generous. It sang a melodious tune — the cuckoo’s cry woke us up every morning.

The Gondhoraj Lebu or lemon. From Public Domain

Many years ago, I had discovered in Bengal this marvellously rich, soothing, fresh scent which has become synonymous with the fragrance of summer for me. The scent  lingered and I knew the sapling was coming home with me. The great gondhoraj lebu, lime, lemon — call it as you will — but it is the king (raj)of taste and fragrance (gondho). It has a distinctive flavour and aroma akin to its South East Asian, lumpy bumpy cousin the kaffir lime. Lime to lemon in size and really used more for its zest rather than the pitiful amount of juice, although its still worth the trouble, trying to squeeze every last drop of it out into your meal or drink.

The streets stayed deserted all afternoon in the summer. There wouldn’t be a crow in sight. Though they stayed ablaze with the skies  with flames of gulmohar and the gold of amaltas. The curtains would be drawn, the cooler, would be on. We would listen to music or watch television.

Amaltas tree in full bloom
From Public Domian

And the saga of summer continues. At night, we are greeted with intoxicating perfumes of nature. Though the garden completely shrivels, jasmines and tuberoses bloom in the tender moonlight. Madhukamini wafts like a hundred blessings around my senses. It seems all pervasive, and the light breeze seems to control its intensity in the night…

Madhukamini Blooms. From Public Domain

[1] the fingers of Laila, the ribs of Majnu: From the legendary love story of Laila Majnu

[2] Lemon water

 Madhuri Bhattacharya is a closet writer and art enthusiast. She is interested in creative writing, translations and travel.

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

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