Categories
Editorial

Spring in Winter?

Painting by Claude Monet (1840-1926)
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

'Ode to the West Wind', Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792 -1822)

The idea of spring heralds hope even when it’s deep winter. The colours of spring bring variety along with an assurance of contentment and peace. While wars and climate disasters rage around the world, peace can be found in places like the cloistered walls of Sistine Chapel where conflicts exist only in art. Sometimes, we get a glimpse of peace within ourselves as we gaze at the snowy splendour of Himalayas and sometimes, in smaller things… like a vernal flower or the smile of a young child. Inner peace can at times lead to great art forms as can conflicts where people react with the power of words or visual art. But perhaps, what is most important is the moment of quietness that helps us get in touch with that inner voice giving out words that can change lives. Can written words inspire change?

Our featured bookstore’s owner from Bangladesh, Amina Rahman, thinks it can. Rahman of Bookworm, has a unique perspective for she claims, “A lot of people mistake success with earning huge profits… I get fulfilment out of other things –- community health and happiness and… just interaction.” She provides books from across the world and more while trying to create an oasis of quietude in the busy city of Dhaka. It was wonderful listening to her views — they sounded almost utopian… and perhaps, therefore, so much more in synch with the ideas we host in these pages.

Our content this month are like the colours of the rainbow — varied and from many countries. They ring out in different colours and tones, capturing the multiplicity of human existence. The translations start with Professor Fakrul Alam’s transcreation of Nazrul’s Bengali lyrics in quest of the intangible. Isa Kamari translates four of his own Malay poems on spiritual quest, while from Balochi, Fazal Baloch bring us Munir Momin’s esoteric verses in English. Snehprava Das’s translation of Rohini K.Mukherjee poetry from Odia and S.Ramakrishnan’s story translated from Tamil by B.Chandramouli also have the same transcendental notes. Tagore’s playful poem on winter (Sheeth) mingles a bit for spring, the season welcomed by all creatures great and small.

John Valentine brings us poetry that transcends to the realms of Buddha, while Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Ron Pickett and Saranyan BV use avians in varied ways… each associating the birds with their own lores. George Freek gives us poignant poetry using autumn while Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal expresses different yearnings that beset him in the season. Snehaprava Das and Usha Kishore write to express a sense of identity, though the latter clearly identifies herself as a migrant. Young Debadrita Paul writes poignant lines embracing the darkness of human existence. Joseph C. Ogbonna and Raiyan Rashky write cheeky lines, they say, on love. Mohit Saini interestingly protests patriarchal expectations that rituals of life impose on men. We have more variety in poetry from William Doreski, Rex Tan, Shivani Shrivastav and John Grey. Rhys Hughes in his column shares with us what he calls “A Poem Of Unsuccessful Excess” which includes, Ogden Nash, okras, Atilla the Hun, Ulysees, turmeric and many more spices and names knitting them into a unique ‘Hughesque’ narrative.

Our fiction travels from Argentina with Fabiana Elisa Martínez to light pieces by Deborah Blenkhorn and Priyanjana Pramanik, who shares a fun sketch of a nonagenarian grandma. Sreenath Nagireddy addresses migrant lores while Naramsetti Umamaheswararao gives a story set in a village in Andhra Pradesh.

We have non-fiction from around the world. Farouk Gulsara brings us an unusual perspective on festive eating while Odbayar Dorj celebrates festivals of learning in Mongolia. Satyarth Pandita introduces us to Emil Cioran, a twentieth century philosopher and Bhaskar Parichha pays a tribute to Professor Sarbeswar Das.  Meredith Stephens talks of her first-hand experience of a boat wreck and Prithvijeet Sinha takes us to the tomb of Sadaat Ali Khan. Ahmad Rayees muses on the deaths and darkness in Kashmir that haunt him. Devraj Singh Kalsi brings in a sense of lightness with a soupçon of humour and dreams of being a fruit seller. Suzanne Kamata revisits a museum in Naoshima in Japan.

Our book excerpts are from Anuradha Kumar’s sequel to The Kidnapping of Mark Twain, Love and Crime in the Time of Plague: A Bombay Mystery and Wayne F Burke’s Theodore Dreiser – The Giant, a literary non-fiction. Our reviews homes Somdatta Mandal discussion on M.A.Aldrich’s Old Lhasa: A Biography while Satya Narayan Misra writes an in-depth piece on Amal Allana’s Ebrahim Alkazi: Holding Time Captive. Anita Balakrishnan weaves poetry into this section with her analysis of Silver Years: Senior Contemporary Indian Women’s Poetry edited by Sanjukta Dasgupta, Malashri Lal and Anita Nahal. And Parichha reviews Diya Gupta’s India in the Second World War: An Emotional History, a book that looks at the history of the life of common people during a war where soldiers were all paid to satiate political needs of powerbrokers — as is the case in any war. People who create the need for a war rarely fight in them while common people like us always hope for peace.

We have good news to share — Borderless Journal has had the privilege of being listed on Duotrope – which means more readers and writers for us. We are hugely grateful to all our readers and contributors without who we would not have a journal. Thanks to our wonderful team, especially Sohana Manzoor for her fabulous artwork.

Hope you have a wonderful month as we move towards the end of this year.

Looking forward to a new year and spring!

Mitali Chakravarty

borderlessjournal.com

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Categories
Slices from Life

Embracing the Earth and Sky…

By Prithvijeet Sinha

Saadat Ali Khan’s tomb. Photo Courtesy: Prithvijeet Sinha

In Lucknow, there’s a peculiar yet quintessential fascination with preserving the dead, ensuring that monuments to revere them are not only easy on the eyes but also constructed with a certain soulfulness. The sublime, inevitable poetry of mortality is hence the reason why multiple Imambaras and Maqbaras (resting places and tombs) eulogise the architects of a region that led the charge by invigorating secularism, architecture and employment to the masses.

The stunning Saadat Ali Khan tomb testifies to all these features with poignant grace till this present era. Built by Ghazi-ud-Din Haider, the crowned King of Awadh in the early years of the 19th century in memory of his father, the eponymous Nawab Wazir of Awadh, Saadat Ali Khan, it was a palace of refined craftsmanship that took on the sombre hues of remembrance and eternal memory by being rebuilt as a tomb. Such is the fervour of familial legacies. Those eternal memories of wives and children now rest in the vaults that have been preserved in the inner chamber of the structure in its rear end.

On his part, Ghazi-ud-Din Haider (1769-1827) was a man of poise and taste. But he was also operating at a time when colonial powers were shareholders of Awadh as much as any other part of the country. Being a ruler may have been as much a nominal position for him as it was for his father, Yameen-ud Daula Saadat Ali Khan II Bahadur (1752 – 1814). But they both walked on common ground as they ensured that administrative duties fuelled by colonial interests didn’t usurp the spirit of their homeland. Lucknow was much more to Ghazi-ud-Din Haider and his father than just a city. Hence, their architectural aesthetics came into play to build a monumental legacy. If father Saadat Ali Khan was the mind who gave Lucknow a large number of memorable monuments between the city’s fabled Kaiserbagh and Dilkusha corridor then son Ghazi was no flash in the pan himself. The majestic Chattar Manzil, the quietly captivating Vilayati Bagh (built in memory of his beloved English wife Mary Short/ Padshah Begum) and the impressive Shah Najaf Imambara (modelled after the holy Shia site of Najaf in Iran) are all beholden to his vision. They all occupy pivotal central areas of the city today and are a visitors’ delight. He was also the pioneer behind a printing press, employing English and local scholars who were versed in multiple languages and enriched his court with the compilation of an extensive Persian dictionary.

Saadat Ali Khan’s Tomb extends his legacy, it’s a stunning architectural design of a palace turned resting place for dearly departed retaining Lucknow’s exquisite stamp. The magnificent dome, arches, unbridled calligraphy of designs, decorative motifs and the pillars echo with two hundred years and more of all that the structure represents. The distinctive wash of yellow, brown and sometimes bleached lemon in the building are all captivating to discerning eyes. Under this dome and the parapets, one walks in circles and picks up the nuances of beauty that surround it. Chief among them being huge windows framed with nets, galloping squirrels and various potted plants covering the expanse.

Even more wonderful is the tomb of Mursheer Zadi, Saadat Ali Khan’s beloved wife, that stands parallel to his tomb. With its similarly constructed structure and darker tones, the confluence of dome, spires, parapets, inner chamber and decorative motifs become breathtaking. If the morning reveals these structures as enchanting dual partners, afternoons suffuse them with a time-honoured glow while the evenings bathe them with shades of devotion to this cityscape.

Visitors people the verandahs that surround it. At the Saadat Ali Khan Tomb and Garden, we relive the permanence of smiling flowers, the majestic architecture and the surreal power of its mystique. It’s a structure that seems to literally rise out of the earth and court the sky in reverence to both. We, in turn, understand its juxtapositions of mortality and muted grandeur as die-hard Lucknawis.

As scaffolds populate the tombs and restoration work ensures more renewed glint for its overall structure in the new year as also for its neighbouring Chattar Manzil, this site becomes the classical storyteller it has always been. Its saga is continuous, eternal. Its haunting understories are as soaked in legends and myths as is the wonderful city of Lucknow. The dead don’t just rest in peace here, they converse in whispers that become the wind and birdcalls.

Photo Courtesy: Prithvijeet Sinha

Prithvijeet Sinha  is an MPhil from the University of Lucknow, having launched his prolific writing career by self-publishing on the worldwide community Wattpad since 2015 and on his WordPress blog An Awadh Boy’s Panorama. Besides that, his works have been published in several journals and anthologies. 

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
Musings

Bibapur Mansion: A Vintage Charmer

By Prithvijeet Sinha

Writing about Lucknow’s fabled monuments has set me free to regurgitate images and feelings (‘ehsaas‘ as the Urdu equivalent goes) that call for effusive recollections. When the praxis of location and travel stand side by side, words flow out of the material foundations of structures that court our instant awe. Another fabled monument that rewrites the architectural-historical continuum of Awadh in that admirable vein is Bibiapur Kothi (Mansion); there’s just something sturdy about its presence in one of the most beautifully quiet corners of the cityscape.

Blessed by the legendary aesthetic choices of Nawab Asaf-ud-Daula, one of the most prominent architects of Lucknow, and built by architect Antoine Polier and his dedicated team in the latter part of the 18th Century, Bibiapur Kothi is a vision of grandeur. Legend has it that it was a favourite country retreat for the Nawabs as well as a centre for another arcane ritual from the past — hunting.

Like it always happens, visiting this site is like opening a door and entering the mystifying corridors of a past that can never be replicated. The neo-classical architectural style itself is easy on the eyes as spacious arches, halls, high roofs and round pillars — hypnotic ballasts of extreme strength – mesmerize the visitor. An enchanting spiral staircase divides this space into two storeys while the halls and Greek columns, beautifying its iconic exteriors, make us hark back to the glory days of interracial socialization that prevailed here. Lakhauri[1]betweenbricks and majestic stones’ sturdy network further arrests our undivided attention.

Imagine the masked balls, coronations (such as that of Saadat Ali Khan as the legend goes) and exquisite mehfils (musical/ poetic congregations) marked this mansion and its prominence for both for the native and colonial understanding of Awadh’s sensibilities, particularly Lucknow as the harbinger of urban sophistication.

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Even for a modern traveller who can visualise yesteryears’ customs and etiquettes, the place is like a replica for the way the people lived and loved the essence of Lucknow. One can hear the hooves of equestrian sentinels guiding elaborate carriages, imagine a nawab reminiscing of a beloved while beholding the moon from the second floor and guests spread out under these roofs and occupying the hall, deep in conversations that could make or break the cultural sphere of influence tied intimately to regional politics. So, it’s natural that the more credulous storytellers still believe in this space holding fort for ghostly travellers who, it seems, just can’t escape the thrilling sensibilities of this particular realm.

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Bibiapur Mansion is a visual delight. Its current locational axis generates awe for discerning visitors. Today, one has to take a straight drive from the Dilkusha corridor and nestled within the cantonment area beyond an old railway line is this architectural wonder. An army sentry guides us further as we enter the gateway and a world of trees, vegetation, cricket’s unified whispers, quarters and a granary beholden to the cantonment board fall in the pathway. Everything has old-world charm. The passage invites to the visitor like a transcendent experience. Surrounded by ancient trees, some with beautiful forms and thickets relaying the permanence of this area’s timelessness, is this fabled monument.

Sunlight lights up its walls and every now and then a langur(monkey) sprawling his long tail stands guard over the gates. The staircases, spacious compound, arched entryway and the glory of the Greek columns touched by the inimitable mix of lakhauri and current-day refurbishments awe us.

Here at Bibiapur Mansion, everything has a presence. Everything is accessible and iconic. In the absence of noise and marked by surfeits of wonder, we travel to the past while celebrating the immediate moments that brought us to this place.

Here, History and Wonder never sleep for long. Rather they awaken a new sentience.

Photograph by Prithvijeet Sinha

[1]Lime paint and plaster

Prithvijeet Sinha  is an MPhil from the University of Lucknow, having launched his prolific writing career by self-publishing on the worldwide community Wattpad since 2015 and on his WordPress blog An Awadh Boy’s Panorama. Besides that, his works have been published in several journals and anthologies. 

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