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Civilisational studies are quite complex as each one is quite unique or else it would not qualify for the term. Basically, cultures represent natural responses of a people to the requirements of their ecosystem, both organic and inorganic. In India, for instance, we really do not wish “good morning” and “good evening”, except to a Westernised clientele or (in recent times) to colleagues.
“India was saddened by the insult to the tricolour on Republic Day” stated Prime Minister Narendra Modi, a few days ago. He was referring, obviously, to the mayhem that broke out when farmers, their friends and enemies, streamed into Delhi on January 26.
What the British found quite disgusting during their long uninvited stay in India was that Indians defecated in open fields, squatting. The Western world picked up and echoed this narrative and these toilet practices were painted as decisively inferior. A massive Swachh Bharat mission has now been launched on a war footing and by this year its target is to make India free of this archaic custom of open defecation—which has to go, as it is anachronistic.
A personal sense of betrayal has overtaken some of us who spent so much time and energy to assist the broadcasting industry in setting up what was perceived to be the state-of-the-art technology of television viewership- measurement. One should have realised though that the finest of systems can always be sabotaged.
It has surely been quite a different Republic Day this time, and its unfortunate events will not fade as easily as the details of more spectacular performances on Rajpath. Not only because of the unexpected action that took place way beyond the agreed venues. But with the internet down, or certainly not at its best, and real-time coverage tapering off, one is not certain what exactly happened in Delhi from 2 pm onward.
Preface to a collection of selected essays on Buddha and Buddhist philosophy published on the ocassion of 125 years (1892-2017) celebration of Bauddha Dharmankur Sabha (Bengal Buddhist Association) edited by Hemendu Bikash Chowdhury.
After the unending months of 2020, we now feel a bit relieved as we assume, with or without basis, that the worst may be over. As we click the pause button, it may be appropriate to attempt an interim appraisal of the effects and the devastation caused by a microscopic mass-murdering virus.
We know that as soon as the clock strikes midnight on the 31st of December, we step on a brand new year — with a bang and a lot of hope. But, strangely, we never stop to ask why do we celebrate this particular date and time? Why not, say, the first of March or the 25th of March or even on the 25th of December? This is, incidentally, not idle prattle, for all these dates have had the historic honour of actually being observed as ‘New Year’s Day’. Yes. So let’s get into the story of how we went past all these dates to arrive at the first of January.
Irvin and Sunquist have mentioned in their very well-researched book, History of the World Christian Movement that “prior to the year 300 AD there had been no consensus among Christians concerning the date on which to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. Some argued for a spring date, but others suggested December 25...the day celebrated in honour of the ‘Invincible Sun’. Most Christians came to accept December 25, as the birthday of Jesus, integrating thereby elements of the solar monotheism of Solstice and Roman festival of Saturnalia with Christianity”.
When the suave Arun Jaitley introduced his electoral bonds scheme in 2017, few could understand then that it was a very smart sleight of hand operation that legitimised funding of political parties even by suspiciously anonymous donors. By April 2019, the ruling party had bagged 95% of these very opaque funds, but we may never know what quid pro quos were given to the benefactors.
To appreciate a meteoric writer like Michael Madhusudan Dutt and estimate his contribution to Indian literature and culture, we need to first take him from the confines of Bengal, where he is stuck, quite unwittingly. In his home ‘province’, he is remembered forever for introducing lasting innovations that enriched a language that was struggling to move out of its archaic mould.
In the 1880s, John Robert Seeley pompously announced that “India is ... only a geographical expression and does not make the territory of a nation” while John Strachey declared with equal contempt that “there never was an India… no Indian nation, no people of India”. Like other British imperialist commentators, they were both obviously underestimating the inner strength of a civilisation that had arisen over millennia of coexistence, compromise and consensus.
Eyes popped open when the Chief Justice of India (CJI) pulled up the government twice, on October 8 and November 17, for its faulty affidavits in the Tablighi Jamaat case. The court was visibly annoyed that the government was not responding clearly about its steps to control communally provocative media. Television viewers saw how viciously the Tablighi’s congregation in Nizamuddin in March was held responsible for spreading the coronavirus everywhere.
I never imagined that I would be writing an obituary for someone so full of life as Soumitra Chatterjee. Those who were lucky enough to know him at reasonably close quarters, which is quite a large number, it would really take a long time to accept that he is no more. Rarely has one come across an all-round cultural personality with absolutely no airs. He was in life as he appeared (and will always appear) in his films.
If we are to select one festival that every Hindu in every corner of India celebrates in some form or the other, we would invariably mention ‘Diwali’. It epitomises the operational plurality of Hinduism that has thrived for millennia without a high command, headquarters or one designated holy book.
As many of us admit, one of the major mistakes committed by a secular India was to assume that religious tolerance and amity would last forever. The secular state’s duty was over by declaring public holidays on the major festivals of all religions, but it never seriously considered explaining to the people what and why these celebrations were observed.
Many have often wondered how ancient Indic religions like Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism (Sikhism is not that ‘ancient’) survived and prospered for millennia without a designated holy book like the Bible or the Koran and with no Mecca, Vatican or Jerusalem to guide people. With a little introspection, we come to realise that it is actually this absence of a ‘central command’ and non-uniform format that account for this.
People often wonder why Bengalis worship Durga on the grandest scale possible during Navaratri and why they do not observe the mandatory fasts or rituals — instead gorging on non-vegetarian food. And, this propensity is not limited to any class or caste because Brahmans and so-called upper castes lead the way to celebrate with the best of fish and mutton dishes. The other question is why is it that only Bengal’s image of Ma Durga is so completely different from the rest of India?
It is a pity that after managing to control the rates of infection, recovery and mortality from the coronavirus reasonably better than five other comparable metropolises, Calcutta now appears determined to tease its fate during Durga Puja. When the coronavirus appeared in tiny numbers, knee-jerk, unplanned, nationwide lockdowns were clamped down with a lot of drama, with politics and image-building taking precedence. The social media was inundated with hate-filled messages targeting West Bengal’s special incompetence in combating the pandemic, ignoring the fact that most other states were floundering as well.
Enough is enough — says Bollywood and many others who are sick and tired of toxic trial by media and daily abuses hurled on tabloid television. Terms like “dirt”, “filth”, “scum”, “druggies”, “cocaine and LSD drenched” and “the dirtiest industry in the country” have been freely used by some obviously-interested channels in the past few weeks, that went on lynching the reputation of film personalities with just wisps of their ‘evidence’.