I found her narration very readable and thought provoking. It helps us understand our neighbour better as we come to know specific aspects of their culture and world-view, based primarily on Theravada Buddhist philosophy and mandates.
I must compliment the author and the publisher for coming up with this very interesting publication that would interest readers to learn more about the soul of these two neighbouring countries that were linked by geography, geology, history and God. Both nations that are so physically close to each other, however, tend to take each other for granted, and do not stretch themselves to understand the subtle nuances of each other’s cultural expressions. They assume that they are just variations of each other or are too similar just because they appear so close, in terms of physical and cultural anthropological indices — but this position is not always right, as cultures bloom in different lightly tinted colours. Then, there is the additional problem of comparing a smaller, compact and more homogenous country like Sri Lanka with a vast sub-continent like India that has myriad geographical variations, physical formations, flora and fauna and. Frankly, several similarities abound when we compare the southern end of the Indian peninsula with Sri Lanka as the agro-climatic zones are so similar and obviously the culture of distant places in India, like dry, hot Rajasthan and or cold freezing Ladakh cannot be brought within the pale of comparison. Culture, after all, is the sum total of man’s response to his environment in physical and social terms, and is basically his formula for surviving and prospering within his given circumstances.
But subjects like culture and heritage cover such large areas and are so multi-faceted that it is impossible to compare and contrast two monoliths, as that ends up as a superficial and mechanical exercise. Instead, the method adopted by Lopamudra Maitra Bajpai of comparing small facets of the cultures of the two countries is more meaningful. She deals with cultural expressions and symbols as they appear in the cultural mosaic of Sri Lanka, where she has served in the SAARC Cultural Centre in Colombo as a Culture Specialist. While someone else in her position, working within a governmental set-up, could have spent her time writing bland, officious reports and earning her salary, Lopamudra took the trouble to go into the interior, mix with common people, observe their traditions and rituals quite discreetly, and ask questions that would help her understand them better. She is a professionally qualified anthropologist and social historian, trained and tested in the methodology of field investigation, but she took care not to present her views in too much of technical jargon. I found her narration very readable and thought provoking. It helps us understand our neighbour better as we come to know specific aspects of their culture and world-view, based primarily on Theravada Buddhist philosophy and mandates. She has laid due emphasis on oral traditions and on the sense of identity that govern their behaviour vis-a-vis distinct cycles and circumstances. Story-telling is surely one the most powerful modes of retaining and transmitting culture and Lopamudra dives into this world, to understand the various layers of cultural contexts.
She begins her exploration with some of lesser known aspects of the earliest trading relations between India and Sri Lanka, which is traced to the 4th century BC. It is interesting to note that ancient trading links existed between Lanka and eastern India and the Sinhalese still cherish the legend that their ancestors hailed from Eastern India, possibly Kalinga. Incidentally, Bengal too has a deeply-embedded story of how Vijay Singha sailed from this part of India to conquer Lanka. In any case, the Odiya and Bengali languages evolved from common roots only a millennium ago, when identities were sharply demarcated, but in the 4th century BC, there was much more that was common between Bengal and Odisha. After all, Bengal’s ancient port of Tamralipta was very close to the borders of present-day Odisha. One cultural link between Sri Lanka and Bengal has fascinated many, even though the consequential questions that arise remain unanswered. I refer to the almost-mandatory tradition of Bengali brides wearing conch-shell bangles to signify their married status, very much like the mangal-sutras that many married women in other parts of India wear. In additions, every household or shrine must have its own conch shells, that are invariably blown by the women-folk of Bengal, to celebrate or worship or even warn others, when sudden storms arise. There is an caste of artisans in Bengal called Shaankhari that is dedicated to cutting conch shells into bangles and other ‘jewellery’ and in polishing and designing them for the purpose of worship.
But these conch shells are not found with almost a thousand miles of Bengal. They are harvested from the sea mainly at two points, the first is Jaffna in Sri Lanka and the other is Tuticorin in deep south of Tamil Nadu, very near to Jaffna, from where Bengal’s Shaankhari community imports, since time immemorial. This indicates a serious unbroken link between Bengal and Sri Lanka, as well as with the far south of India, but no one. Can say why the conch is so obligatory in the social life of Bengal, when it is not so in the four Indian states that lie between Jaffna-Tuticorin and Bengal. I leave this challenge to Lopamudra to investigate further and find out. In fact, her next article on the age-old links between Bengal and the Maldives wherein rice from Bengal was exchanged for cowrie-shells takes us deeper into the same foggy area. Cowries were used in Bengal and adjoining regions as coins, in very much the same manner in which they were utilised in many countries and kingdoms in South Asia, East Asia and Africa. Gold and silver were very rare metals and copper, too, was considerably precious in these parts. Cowries were freely accepted by all social strata as a unit of currency and it is so deeply ingrained into our culture that they find pride of place in proverbs, idioms and metaphors. The fact that they came from Maldives is perhaps news to many and Lopamudra has done well to focus on this age-old linkage between SAARC countries.
She then traces the ‘import’ of a very old cult of worship, Pattani, in Sri Lanka to its origin in present-day Kerala state of south India, by examining oral traditions and folklore. This is where an anthropologist goes one step ahead of the historian, who usually waits for more solid documentary or archival evidence, while an anthropologist can use an equally reliable methodology to fill in gaps in ‘hard history’. Her next focus is on a cultural object, the ornate, straw-plaited bulath bags of Sri Lanka, and she takes pains to explain how Sri Lanka had established trade links with other countries in the Indian Ocean rim, especially India. By the way, these bulath bags are a must for carrying betel leaves and nuts, commonly known as paan-supari in the Indian subcontinent. These cloth bags are crafted with intricate designs made of dried straw and the motifs appear quite universal for this part of the world. It also reveals the regular habit, or even addiction, of chewing these stimulating green leaves and slices of the slightly intoxicating areca catachu nuts. This habit is quite universal in South and East Asia as well as in the Pacific islands, from where they are said to have originated. Cross-ocean shipping and trade have always been risky, but they do not seem to have deterred sailors and boatmen from taking up fearsome challenges with their primitive sailing crafts.
The author then takes up other cultural objects, like the characteristic ‘running stitch’ embroidery, that marks out the kanthas of eastern India and also of Bangladesh, in these wider context of the SAARC zone. Imitation has always been the best compliment and the entire matrix of cross-cultural exchanges rest on the borrowing of whatever is aesthetically charming or of considerable utility. The next chapter where she compares the reed or dried grass woven mats across the countries of South Asia makes very fascinating reading. Lopamudra compares the traditional designs on the mats of different countries and regions, as markers of their cultural uniqueness, though the items, the mat, is either the same or is similar where production and utility are concerned. That is what makes culture so engrossing.
She takes us through several journeys across food items like pickles and chutneys, which are a must in all SAARC countries and the eastern part of the world and how commercial ice of the British colonists changed life and food preservation forever.
In this manner, she takes us through several journeys across food items like pickles and chutneys, which are a must in all SAARC countries and the eastern part of the world and how commercial ice of the British colonists changed life and food preservation forever. She takes us through an almost forgotten Lankan proverb that reveals a slice of its history of colonisation and in a later chapter, she introduces us to the ‘foolish guru’ and tales around him that, again, represent a tradition kept alive in many countries of this region. The author then picks up scroll paintings of the SAARC region for special attention, to highlight both commonness in narrating oral traditions and provincial variety as well. The chapter on the wooden dolls makes delightful reading and resonates with similar pre-plastic toy making traditions of this vast region. The author follows this up with another traditional craft of making puppets and in utilising them for easy, entertaining cultural communication all over the SAARC area. Masked dances are taken up next in likewise manner as are jesters and comic characters, who may appear funny but carry far deeper messages.
What impressed me the most was Lopamudra Maitra Bajpai’s selection of objects of communication in the post-industrial age, which is generally avoided or even abhorred by the artistic and creative community as symbols of the death of pristine beauty and innocence. She bravely picked up the railways for examining certain specific aspects like the construction of the Colombo terminus and Kompannavidiya railway station and tells us how culture mattered as much, even in the factory age when industrial products and projects appeared so dull and dark. She brings out interesting aspects like architecture and cast-iron artistry. Even the humble postal runner and the ruins of cast-iron telegraph and electricity posts are interpreted for their unusual cultural significance.
I have found this exploration quite fascinating and would really like to commend Dr Maitra Bajpayi for the unorthodox approach that she has taken in interpreting culture. I only wish other cultural commentators are impressed with her bold, unorthodox selection of subjects, and they leave the beaten path of libraries, archives and re-paraphrasing the literature of earlier experts — to jump into the adventure of discovery, questioning and fact-finding. I congratulate the author and the publishers.