Archive for the Women Category

Unccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri

Posted in Diaspora, India / Indian, Literary fiction, Short Stories, South Asian, Women on April 29, 2008 by Ishrath Farhana

 

With this book, we become conscious that Jhumpa Lahiri is not an immigrant. She is a child of immigrants. In Unaccustomed Earth, she writes with simple grace about the burdens of these children – the weight of their ethnicity, and the weight of their immigrant parents’ dreams and expectations.

In “Only Goodness”, a stroy about a family trying to deal with their son’s alcoholism:

That’s the problem with this country,” her mother said. “Too many freedoms. Too much having fun. When we were young, life wasn’t always aout fun.”

Sudha pitied her mother, pitied her refusal to accomodate such an unpleasant and alien fact, her need to blame Amerca and its laws instead of her son… Her parents had been blind to the things that plagued their children: being teased at school for the color of their skin or for the funny things their mother occasionally put into their lunch boxes, potato curry sandwiches that tinted Wonderbread green. What could there possibly be to be unhappy about? her parents would have thought. “Depression” was a foeign word to them, an American thing. In their opinion their children were immune from the hardships and injustices they had left behind in India, as ifthe innoculations the pediatrician had given Sudha and Rahul when they were babies guaranteed them an existence free of suffering.

This is a book that will wind up on everyone’s summer reading list. Lahiri’s characters are familiar and endearing, and their stories will tug at your heartstrings.

Lahiri sometimes gets criticized for choosing the same milieu and the same class of Ivy League privileged Bengali families in the US. She responds to criticism about her Bengali-American centered subject matter:

 ‘Is that all you’ve got in there?’ I get asked the question all the time. It baffles me. Does John Updike get asked this question? Does Alice Munro? It’s the ethnic thing, that’s what it is. And my answer is always, yes, I will continue to write about this world, because it inspires me to write, and there’s nothing more important than that.

           Jhumpa Lahiri, reading for International Readings at Harbourfront, Toronto.

She read marvellously from “Hell-Heaven”, the 2nd story, and arguably the best one, from this beautiful collection. 

The Toss of a Lemon by Padma Vishwanathan

Posted in Brahmin, Canada eh?, Caste Relations, Current Affairs, Debut, Diaspora, Historical/Biographical, India, India / Indian, Prejudice, Racism, Southeast Asia, Untouchability, Women, World with tags , on April 11, 2008 by Ishrath Farhana

Hardcover, 640 pages

Random House Canada

Price: $34.95

In her debut novel, Vishwanathan tells the tale of Sivakami, a child bride in the 1950’s, and her early widowhood. She is married to Hanumanthrathnam – an astrologer with a reputation for healing, with an unconventional friendship with siddhas. Hanumantharathnam dies promptly on the date he predicted, leaving Sivakami to care for a daughter, Thangam, and their son, Vairum.  

Sivakami’s oddessey extends into several generations of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

One expects The Toss of a Lemon to seize the issue of caste relations in its teeth, because there is simply so much to say about the recognition of caste injustice in Tamil Nadu, the formation of a Dravidian consciousness, the backlash against Brahmins. However,  Vishwanathan prefers the minute day to day activities of a Brahmin household and describes everything with rigorous and relentless domestic detail, and glides over the larger issues of the day, quite a feat in 600 odd pages.  

With Bapsi Sidhwa’s Water, we are sensitized to the plight of the widows, but one finds it extremely hard to feel sympathy for Sivakami because of her extreme orthodoxy. It is difficult to look upon her as a victim, because her caste and her harsh observance of its tenets gives her a sense of inviolable superiority over everyone.

From an anthropological point of view, this is a detailed day to day chronicle of Brahmin life. The most uncomfortable aspect is the whole idea of how every other thing “pollutes” you, how touching even her children during daylight hours pollutes Sivakami’s madi state, sipping chai from a cup will pollute you, putting lips to tumbler is polluting, the shadow of a lower caste person will pollute you, and if someone throws somethng as unchaste as a slipper at a Brahmin, he is positively uncasted.  

One does not know what a reader who is not from India will take away fom this book, but an Indian will struggle for  objectivity. A non Brahmin, and possibly Brahmins from our generation will have to contend with the distaste that the apparent racism-as-a-way-of-life that this book generates. Perhaps one will be forced to recall old indignites at Brahmin friends’ homes, where an aunt or a granny may have barred one from the kitchen.

It is a tough book to read, and bitter to swallow. However in the way it deals with such issues it is a book that simply does not live up to its promise. The promise of a fresh and exciting new voice to the firmament of Indian fiction. The promise of sinking one’s teeth into the touchy subject and pernicious continuity of caste injustice in India.

The Tiger Claw by Shauna Singh Baldwin

Posted in Espionage, French Resistance, Historical/Biographical, India / Indian, Noor Inayat Khan, Southeast Asia, Sufi, Women, World, World War II on January 13, 2008 by Ishrath Farhana

  
Format: Trade Paperback, 592 pages
Publisher: Vintage Canada, Random House

The best review that you will get for this book is from Amar, and he hasn’t even read it yet.

“Damn it!” he raves.

Damn it – when we can celebrate the likes of the Jhansi Ki Rani as national heroines, pretend that the Lakshmi Sahgals of the INA were part of something worthwhile, and more recently hail as inspirational a various assortment of female odd-bags from disastrous leaders to long-legged beauty queens to weird nuns to dead astronauts, one thing becomes obvious. For a desh which some call the motherland, and which many would like to praise as Devi, we are kind of short on heroines.

Oh we have plenty of filmi ones, glamorous sexy and ravishing they all are too, but we want real women, real heroines, who were not only beautiful but brave, resourceful, and intelligent, the type to fight against tyranny and oppression, the type who would risk their necks for their cause if need be, a woman to admire and adore and draw inspiration from, that’s what we want! On second thoughts, maybe we don’t want real women after all, we want a super woman.Luckily I have managed to find just such a woman. I present for your consideration Miss Noor Inayat Khan

For the rest of the rant, fact and mytholygical portrait of Noor Inayat Khan, read here.

Shauna Singh Baldwin’s second novel is about Noor, an insightful masterpiece about the  unknown and uncelebrated beauty, who went into the heart of Nazi occupied France as a spy for the Allied forces.

Baldwin has revealed not only the beautiful SOE agent who dies in Dachau, but a carefully sketched potrait of a very complex personality. It delves into the cross cultural currents that shaped Noor, her itinerant court-musician fahter who founded a Sufi order, her American mother, her life in France. Baldwin explores Noor’s hybridity, and grants her, a Muslim, a Jewish love of her life, Armand Rivkin. There are constraints upon Noor’s life and love – those of society, religion, and expected norms of feminine propriety. 

Through her birth, her various heritages, her upbringing, her convictions, her love, her divided conscience, her sacrifice to a cause of Nazi occupied France whilst being a colonial of the British occupied India,  The Tiger Claw is the story of a woman who defies any attempt to classify her.  It was nominated for the 2004 Giller Prize.

Baldwin says,  “read it as a great adventure story, or as a comparison of colonialisms. Read it as a demonstration of Noor’s progress along the Sufi path searching for her beloved, as the tale of a woman trying to resist every effort to define and classify her, or as the tale of how a woman can do a great job and end up saving France from Fascism while being a believing Muslim wearing a headscarf — oh yes, in France. Read it as a story of how an ordinary radio operator — only a cut above a typist — became crucial to the successful invasion of Europe to save the continent from the Thousand-Year-Riech. Read it as a tale of love and betrayal, an allegory for our times, or a tale that says we must love so deeply and fiercely that love will outlive our bodies. Read it in many ways.”