Bookless in Baghdad by Shashi Tharoor

Bookless in Baghdad: Reflections on Writing and Writers by Shashi Tharoor

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


There are books, and books about books. Bookless in Baghdad is a collection of Tharoor's previously published articles about his own books and the books that made him. What 'Bookless in Baghdad' does beyond being a collection of articles is, it provides a better view of Tharoor's literary canvas. In a few articles in Part one and Part three Tharoor reviews the reviews about his books.

I can imagine Tharoor knocking the pinhead-reviewer in exasperation and clarifying: "Mahabharata's (Its) relevance to today's India is the relevance that today's Indians want to see in it. After all, the epic has, throughout the ages, been the object of adaptation, interpolation, reinterpretation and expurgation by a number of retellers, each seeking to reflect what he saw as relevant to his time (P.22)."It is not hard to miss the seeds for his latest book 'An Era of Darkness' in his various articles, where he makes a case against colonialism for appropriating the cultural definition of its subject peoples (P.25).

There is a thin line between being self adulatory and clarifying one's work for the audience and Tharoor succeeds in pitching his books to the readers. Tharoor's personal favourites Wodehouse and Rushdie receive a graceful tribute in the pages. I feel both authors have influenced Tharoor's work: Tharoor is a past master of the Wodehousian wit. His book The great Indian novel is reminiscent of Rushdie's Satanic Verses for using tropes about religion/mythology as a literary device.

Tharoor affirms that one can be patriotic and secular at the same time. In these times when patriotism is equated with jingoistic nationalism and majoritarian politics, Tharoor's book is an antidote for these tendencies and should be prescribed as a compulsory read in schools and colleges.

In his words:
"India has survived the Aryans, the Mughals, the British; it has taken from each - language, art, food, learning - and grown with all of them. To be an Indian is to be part of an elusive dream all Indians share, a dream that fills our minds with sounds, words and flavours from many sources that we cannot easily identify (P.106)."

And again:

"The suggestion that only a Hindu, and only a certain kind of Hindu, can be an authentic Indian, is an affront to the very premise of Indian nationalism...The only possible idea of India is that of a nation greater than the sum of its parts (P.106)."

The cynic in me feels this book is more like a requiem to the literary genius sacrificed at the altar of sycophantic politics of the Congress party. Why ever would such a well read, sane person want to tread the murky water of politics? Well, for that Tharoor has to definitely write another book, and I certainly look forward to reading it.



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Princely India by Raja Lala Deen Dayal: Court Photographer (1884-1910) to the Premier Prince of India.

Reading this book is like having an intimate look into a slice of history.

Every time I visit Hyderabad, I visit the Mecca Masjid where the Asaf Jah kings lie in peace: all except the First Nizam and the Seventh Nizam. One can still find the remnants of past splendour in the Paigah tombs and the vast tomb complex of the Qutubshahi kings. Yet, the nondescript marble tombs of the Asaf Jahs draw as many visitors as the rest. My favourite is the tomb of the sixth Nizam Mahbub Ali Khan Pasha in Mecca Masjid where visitors are smeared with ashes on the brow to protect them from snake bites and bad luck. This book offers a rare glimpse of this King, Saint and beloved of the people, the 6th Nizam of Hyderabad.

The Asafjah dynasty rose out of the ruins of war through audacity and political craft.

Twice in history, Asafjahs swam against the current of political change that drowned even bigger dynasties in its deluge: The first time after the invasion of Delhi by Nadir Shah in 1739 and second, after the 1857 Indian war of Independence that ended with the exile of Bahadur Shah Zafar II to Rangoon and the complete dismantling of the Mughal empire.

This book is a collection of photographs taken by Raja Deen Dayal. Financial adversity compelled Deen Dayal’s later generations to sell off somewhere between forty thousand to sixty thousand annotated glass plate negatives for the price of glass scrap. The present book is a compilation of the remaining photographs by the grandson Raja Amichand Deen Dayal. No other photographic or literary record of Nizam Mir Mahbub Ali Khan exists.

Mahbub Ali Khan ascended the throne when he was three following the demise of his father and was tutored by an English teacher, Major Clerk appointed by the British resident, John Cordery. The tutor was later dismissed by the resident for imparting to the young Nizam ‘liberal’ values detrimental to the empire. After the departure of the English tutor, Raja Deen Dayal was one of the very few who had rare access to the reclusive life of the shy and private Nizam. He was appointed the court photographer in 1884 and worked in that capacity until his death in 1910. The demise of the sixth Nizam in 1911 ended the royal patronage to Deen Dayal’s successors.

Clark Worswick discusses in his historical text to the volume, the immense contribution of Raja Deen Dayal in immortalizing the Nizam and Princely Hyderabad through his photographs. While I agree with him, I would also like to add that it was the fore sight and generosity of Mir Mahbub Ali Khan that preserved history and Deen Dayal’s craft for future generations.

The Asaf Jahs were the last gate keepers of Mughal art and high culture. The fall of the Mughal Empire and the dissolution of the Awadh court catalysed an influx of talent into Hyderabad seeking royal patronage and support. The aftermath of the 1857 war of Independence heralded an era of abrupt change. Traditional arts such as paintings, portraits and miniatures gave way to the modern art of photography. Getting a photograph ‘done’ was a symbol of modernity for the Indian aristocracy and Indian bourgeois alike. The absence of patrons and clamour to climb the social ladder hastened the demise of the art of portraiture. Photography became more than art, it became a symbol of social advancement.

Nizam Mahbub Ali Khan’s patronage assumes special significance because this was the first of such an offer to a native Indian professional photographer, privileging him over other reputed and established British Photography firms. Worswick’s words add credence to this sentiment:

“…..the native photographers had to contend with the social snobbery that dictated periodic visits by the princes to British photographic firms based in Calcutta. Perhaps this tradition, more than anything else, doomed the emergent Indian photographer. Yearly the princes would make their almost obligatory trip to Calcutta for the social season, when it was customary for them to be ‘done” by either Bourne & Shepherd or Johnston & Hoffman. These firms were so large, well-equipped, and prestigious that it was impossible for a small Indian firm in a native state to compete (P.18)”


As I leaf through the book I feel, for once Nizam Mahbub Ali Khan’s generosity has not been laid waste. Raja Deen Dayal’s photographs serve both as a record of architecture and social commentary about the times. Deen Dayal captures the mood between the ruler and the ruled with a unique Indian sensibility. For instance, the photograph of the masquerade party demystifies the relations between the imperial ruler and the native (pp. 82-83). The photographs of the tiger hunt in Madanpalle (P.53) and the visit of Grand Duke Alexander of Russia in (P.55) allude to a vanished world. It is hard not to remember the food for work programme of the modern Indian state as one pores over the pictures of the famine relief and public work programs to provide employment to people in 1910(P.64 and P.69)

This book is a window into the past giving us a rare glimpse of the social and political climate in Hyderabad during the reign of Nizam Mahbub Ali Khan. A picture is worth a thousand words, but I would say each photograph is worth ten thousand more because hidden within the static image is the story of a dynamic socio-political milieu.

Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni: Before We visit the Goddess

Before We Visit the Goddess by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


I loved reading this book. It had a Gilmore girl-esque aura around it with the plot centering on three generations of women : Sabitri, Bela and Tara. Divakaruni brings out the complicated dynamic between mothers and daughters in heart touching prose. I couldn't help but think to myself, perhaps the moral of the story is about the futility of revenge that Sabitri tries to convey in a letter addressed to her granddaughter Tara.

Sabitri's marriage to an intelligent and self-made Bijan is an elaborate plan to snub Leelamoyi and her spineless, aristocratic son Rajiv. Sabitri's visit to Leelamoyi years later, fails to exorcise the demon of revenge because of Leelamoyi's fading memory. Ironically, at the very moment Sabitri realizes that she actually loves Bijan, a tragedy of errors follows. Bela blurts out to her dad that a man kissed her mom. While Sabitri triumphs over her lower self, Bijan drowns in feelings of jealousy and anger. Sabitri's story is the story of a single woman fighting the oil corporation for her husband's 'accident' and how she takes over Calcutta's palate with her desserts. Sabitri's story reads like a culinary treat at times and I wished I could taste her signature dessert 'Durga Mohan'.

Bela's teenage rebellion against Sabitri extends to an adult life estranged from her mother. Love propels Bela to travel to another continent. However, love soon sours into revenge, as Bela and Sanjay grow apart in their marriage. Here again, it is the man who drowns in the whirlpool of suspicion, revenge and anger while Bela gathers the bits and pieces of her life and comes out triumphant as a reputed chef-author after her divorce from Sanjay.

Despite seemingly conventional external appearances, and outward helplessness and frailty, Sabitri and Bela are strong women who take control of their life. They refuse to be sucked into self pity and failure. Sabitri's friendship with Bipin Bihari Ghatak and Bela's gay friend Kenneth are examples of life at the intersection of two cultures - a bigoted traditional culture that valorizes a 'daughter's honor and duty' over her own happiness and an open minded, prejudice free thinking that emphasizes audacity and strength.

Tara has a giant shift of perspective about her mother and grandmother after she discovers her grandmother's long lost letter from years ago. In an almost epiphanic moment, she realizes that the power to transform meek women into independent women with flourishing careers in the face of tragedy lies within.

"Good daughters are fortunate lamps, brightening the family's name.
Wicked daughters are firebrands, blackening the family's name (P.205)."

Both Sabitri and Bela throughout their life redefine the idea of a 'good daughter'. Achieving something all by oneself without having to depend on anyone gives the utmost satisfaction. This sense of accomplishment cannot be taken away by any one and this is what it means to be a fortunate lamp (P.208): To be self-sufficient and self-effulgent. It is this wisdom from such a life well-lived that Sabitri and Bela pass on to Tara.

I read this novel as a paean to strong and independent women who rise above tragedies and human frailty to outshine the rest of the world. Thank you Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni.



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Isabel Allende: The Japanese Lover

The Japanese Lover by Isabel Allende

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


The subject of Allende's latest novel seems to be the supposed beauty of flawed love. Like the rest of her novels, this book too traces the travails of human love against the backdrop of political turmoil. Allende targets the American isolationist stance until Pearl harbor and the constant need for an enemy other in the American psyche. How the Japanese filled this space in the pre-cold war years and the doomed fate of Ichimei and Alma's love forms the main plot. I personally feel Allende succeeds to reduce the charm of love to cold calculation against this political backdrop. Ironically, this is also the undoing of the story's success.

Alma is definitely not my favorite Allende heroine. In Alma's words, about the reasons why she chose a marriage of convenience with Nathanaiel: "Ichimei and I had a chance when we were young, but I didn't have the courage. I was unable to give up on security, and so I was trapped in convention." (P.172). Not just Alma, every character has a tale of flawed love.

Nathaniel makes the best of his (trapped) marriage to his cousin Alma by having a rather asexual marriage based on friendship and chivalry. Ichimei, the Zen master clearly demarcates his tumultuous love for Alma with the calm (read placid) marriage with his Japanese wife. By the time Alma realizes she actually loves Nathaniel, she is compelled to prove her love or repay for Nathaniel's chivalry by giving up his last days to his one true love - Lenny. Flawed love seems to haunt all the characters except Isaac and Seth.

For an Allende novel, this work falls short on a deeper exploration of characters. It dwells little beyond a stereotypical illustration of the the austere, Japanese Zen master and wealthy Jews.



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