Historicity of the Mahabharata by B. B. Lal - A Glimpse

धर्मे च अर्थे च कामे च मोक्षे च भरतर्षभ
यदिहास्ति तदन्यत्र यन्नेहास्ति न तत्क्वचित् ।

Mahabharata has been a subject of limitless fascination for me, now since two years. It is amazing what interest can make you do. In two years, I have read more texts on Indian history, myths and mythology than anything else, as a result of which, I have grown a lot more thirsty for knowledge than ever before. The desire to know more and more about these historical epics is unquenchable, and it is motivated by this steady desire to understand the origins.

I have this strange belief that if I could understand where I come from, where we come from, where are stories come from, and where our languages come from, I will have a clear vision of where I am and where I am headed.

When I noticed this amazing book titled 'Historicity of the Mahabharata' is the library of Shiv Nadar School, Gurgaon, I know my heart thumped at insane decibels. While we were still debating in the realm of imaginative discourses if Mahabharata is a historical text, or an imaginative narrative conjured by an ancient bard, here comes in front of me a research laying down ample, convincing evidences to show how a great war did actually take place at Kurukshetra.

Since it a work of pure research, I can provide a plotline of the book. What I can tell you is that to test the veracity of claims of the MB narrative, researcher B. B. Lal undertook many routes - through internal extracts, through excavations, through architecture and through contemporary and later secular texts.

While building an understanding of historicity, the text also serves well to educate a reader about the various topographies to traverse while trying to build an archaeological-historical argument. Not just that, it also delves deeper into relevant sections of the Mahabharat to throw light on the politics of certain instances. For examples, were the Pandavs really being humble in their demand for the paanch graam from Duryodhan, or was they a larger game at play? Think geography and you will have your answer.

While I admit it is an unimaginatively written text, it serves its purpose well - that of piquing interest and setting a seeker on course to find more instances of truth a literary body shrouded in myths, not acquiring religious colours.

Must read for MB lovers!

PS - The next Maha Varta session, whenever that happens, shall revolve around the myth v/s mythology v/s history discussion. 

Dear Anonymous Letter Writer - Birthday Chronicles

I make a big fuss of birthdays, each time. Especially if it is mine. Of course.

And you know what counts as luck? When you find others who make a bigger fuss of birthdays than you. And I'm the lucky one, who has not one, but about a dozen crazies around her, who've been investing time and mind into creating little gestures of warmth, leaving a wide, uncontrollable smile on my face.

A recent pretty phenomenon is a red coloured note, which I find stuck to my almirah with the help of magnets, each day when I get back home. These notes/letters contained words of love, which, as hard as I might try, I cannot identify the source of. I thought of cheating, because, it is easy to (all I need to do is steal my sister's phone - I already know the password). But then, I thought of living the experience through. I have analysed the handwriting, the tone, the language, the emotions - and honest admission - I have zero idea of who he or she is. I think the writer is a 'he'. Just, instinct.

So, while I have given up trying to establish the identity of my anonymous pen-friend, let me write him (assuming 'he') a letter of my own. I am doing this, because unresponsiveness is among the things which irks me most in life. Even though I do not know who I am responding to, I will still go ahead and do it, because words deserve words, love deserves love, emotions deserve emotions, and letters deserve letters.

Here goes, a short one, for the person counting down 26 days to my 26th birthday.

Dear anonymous letter writer

I want to thank you. Not for writing to me, but for writing in general. People have quite forgotten the genuineness and touch which ink and paper hold. People have also forgotten that at times, all it takes is one little gesture to completely light up someone's life. Like you are lighting up mine. I look forward to your notes each day. It is a habit I could fondly cultivate. 

Thanks for making me realise how old am I going to be. No sarcasm. I am happy to know how far I have come in life, and also to get a glimpse of how others have journeyed along with me. 

A little word of caution though. When I finally get to know who you are, we'll work a little on your handwriting. No offences, just, my way of saying I think I like you enough to want to work with you. 

Looking forward to note number six. 

Thanks. 

Love, 
Saumya. 

#FolkInVogue - Revisiting Roots

It’s in the click of my heels,  

The bend of my hair,  

the palm of my hand,  

The need for my care.  

’Cause I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

- Maya Angelou

The evening of 30th March, 2016, was beautiful for many reasons. These reasons, primarily, would fall under three categories - the Place, the People and the Cause. 

Place - We were gathered inside the Asian Paints Color Store, a place I love calling my personal wonderland, for the amount of ideas, expressions and creativity it inspires. A store which gives you live experiences of how wall colours alter and enhance the look your spaces, it has given me many a cool ideas to implement back at home and feel thoroughly satisfied about. 

People - Gathered in the store were some women, who had succeeded in creating an impact by following the call of their passion. They belonged to diverse fields, but were united by the conviction they carried on their faces aglow with the happiness of being together. Each had a story worthy of sharing, and each shared personal narratives worthy of putting into wisdom capsules. 

Cause - A unique concept which blended the tradition with fashion, Asian Paints conceptualised #FolkInVogue to grant greater contemporary relevance to our many dying folk art forms. Gond, Pattachitra, Madhubani and Warli art forms found manifestation on dreamcatchers, scarves, vases and mugs. 

What's even better is that one could witness all these art forms in action - artists practising these many styles of painting were invited to the store to give all the gathered ladies a first hand experience, and even a brief tutelage into practising the art. 

A simple gathering of some stunning ladies, by the end of the evening, turned out to be an experience worth being remembered for a lifetime. Asian Paints surmised the life story of all these ladies in flawless videos, the screening of which evoked pretty emotions in everyone's eyes. In the past too, I have witnessed Asian Paints curate experiences which give voice to diverse shades of art - my own association with them began through poetry.  As they celebrate the modern woman, carrying ahead her roots with elegance, why don't you also attempt to revisit traditions and see how they may apply to your contemporary living spaces? Hop into their Color Store today! 

Bibliophilia Revisited - Part II

Thanks for reading the earlier post and feeding me some brilliant new titles. Here is the second set of 9 books. Tell me which ones you adore and abhor - and why!
(Also, it took me a while to complete this post - I am finally at the point in life where hours in each day are too few!)

1. The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes

Gifted by Saif bhaiya. He never goes wrong with books and poetry. 

What you remember is a very personal version of what happened. This book, a short text of profound depth, will grill into you precariousness of memory, history and constructs of identity.

2. The Sensualist by Ruskin Bond

Bought from Oxford Bookstore. 

Why this book makes the cut is because this is unlike any Ruskin Bond you might have read. The endearing author who wrote of childhood, hills and nascent relationships suddenly delves into topics of intense and even violent sensuality - a surprise from his corpus.

3. The Last Song of Dusk by Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi

This book called out to me from a shelf at Spell & Bound, SDA. The bookstore, unfortunately, does not exist anymore. 

I have misplaced the picture of the book, but it remains indelible on my psyche. It is among my top 5 reads of the entire lifetime. I have a definite crush on the author, and he, in my opinion, is the best writer of Magic Realism among Indian writers in English. The Last Song of Dusk is a masterpiece of intensity, poignance, pain and sensuality. Treat, this book is a treat for any heart!


4. To Sir, With Love by E. R. Braithwaite

Sent to me by Ayush, a cousin from Mumbai.

A classic. This is an autobiographical text about a teacher making a forceful impact on the lives of students. It resuscitates your belief in the institution of education, which, however obsolete in terms of content, can create remarkable differences with the aid of one motivated and enterprising individual. (I am so kicked about being a teacher in a part-time role, more so because I know of such possibilities!)

5. The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson

Gifted by Gangesh, who remained disappointed with me for the greatest time because I couldn't find time to read this book. 

This is a memoir - about a child growing up along with the world around him. Each new development brings an opinion along with fascination - a wonderful guided tour through the America of mid-20th century.

6. Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair by Pablo Neruda

Gifted by Saif bhaiya, as a Diwali present. His choice, as always, was impeccable. 

I sigh as I read the name of this book. Neruda creates magic while fusing melancholy and love in his verses. Read - there is no other way of understanding this experience. I have gone through each poem here more than six times, and I cannot help but be captivated into a lull each time. A lyrical lull.

7. My Gita by Devdutt Pattanaik

Bought from a roadside book-shack in Green Park.

"Yatha ichchhasi, tatha kuru" is my takeaway from this book. Own your beliefs, be an eternal observer and change along with the times - this is what the text teaches us. The best part is, this text will probably teach you something much different than what it emphasized to me. Pattanaik has created a following for a reason - he makes Indian philosophies accessible, while providing counter-narratives to each. Read this book, and then read this again. I have put it on my TBR this year as well.

8. Urnabhih by Sumedha Verma Ojha

Gifted as a performance reward by Deepak, my boss in the previous organization. 

A love saga set in the Mauryan times, drawing its basic plot from the state espionage system - what else do you need for killer excitement in literature! The author brings an altogether different era alive in front of you - and I experienced racing heartbeats more than once. I was literally sitting on the edge to see plots and sub-plots unfolding with alarming grace as I turned pages. This is highly recommended!

9. Norwegian Woods by Haruki Murakami

Secret Santa gift by Shweta, colleague at Shiv Nadar School, where I am currently employed. 

Need I even spare words on praising Murakami? I will say what I said in a review earlier - Murakami makes sadness titillating. It is a task accomplished with much difficulty and immersion. Norwegian Woods became a part of my blood flow while I read it, and rendered me incapable of reading anything else till long later.

My reading is coming along just fine this year as well. I recently received my Brunch Book Challenge hamper, for having finished 58 books in the past year, and I am more positive now about the ways in which reading can impact your life. Above and beyond all, reading gives you yourself. I don't know if it makes sense, but each time you run a line and its meaning in your head, you're talking to yourself. It brings you at peace with the idea of existence. It also, many times, gives you answers that you had forever been seeking. Read, and keep reading, for there is only so little time to absorb so much out of the Universe.

Dreamcatcher

My thoughts meander
In first person
Through geometric patterns
Woven with dreamy glow

I am the centre of the culvert

Which bends towards you

And then disappears behind

A foliage

Of ugliest brown

Vintage solitude.

I am the incline

Of the scale

Which refuses to measure

Your lengths

In my breadths

And the hypotenuse of

Long dead human concern

Longer than the sum

Of your lengths in my breadths.

I am the radius

Of the ellipses

Which dot the ends

And enjambments

In all sentences

Phrases

Murmurs

I create and destroy

Within the haven of

Illuminated text boxes.

I am the angle

Between my desire

And your swollen ego

Acutely aware of the

Obtuse notions

You straightened in your head

At quarter past nine

Over an empty flute of wine.

I am the point at which

Reality blurs

Into forcibly conjured dreams.

Nightmares of your departure

Touched by the feathers

Of my dreamcatcher.

You left.

Nightmares left.

I am the circumference

Around the dreamcatcher

Swaying without a centre