Sitaram
02-22-2005, 12:14 AM
An Internet acquaintance from India, Anand, is writing a novel in
English and has posted excerpts at another forum, seeking advice.
http://p214.ezboard.com/fheavenspenniesfrm4.showMessage?topicID=178.topic
Here was my response:
I quickly skimmed through this long thread. I find what Anand writes
interesting. Regarding the issue of English (or American) grammar
and idiom, I am reminded of Milan Kundera, a Czech who lives in exile
in France, writes in Czech, and depends upon translators to render his
work into English (and other languages.) The point I am trying to
make is simply that if your work embodies plot and characters and
ideas of sufficient interest, then finding someone to do minor editing
of something that is already in English should be less of a daunting
challenge that the challenge someone like Kundera faces (and his
works are banned in his native land, and there are few Czech readers
in the diaspora.)
I remember in the 1970s, watching the nightly news and seeing a clip
of someone in India, astride an elephant, passing out birth control to a
crowd. We began to laugh, because we are used to crowds passing
peanuts to elephants, and here is an elephant passing condoms to
crowds. I remember other news items of programs which offered
men a free radio if they would undergo a vasectomy. We tend to
giggle and joke regarding sexual matter and forget how serious a
problem overpopulation can be. Just recently, I watch PBS (Public
Broadcasting Educational, similar to BBC) documentaries about the
aids crisis in India and also Africa. I believe it was the more
communist government of Calcutta who instituted a program of
education for the prostitutes and their clientele and by so doing
affected a dramatic decline in the AIDS rate, whereas in Mumbai,
government officials interviewed were saying things like "oh, it is the
fault of the women who do not practice good hygiene" or "it is poor
diet" (one heard the same comments among local officials in Africa.
The drama troupe reminds me of the Hare Krishna devotees I have
seen who travel about the U.S.A. dramatizing scenes from the
Mahabharat and Srimad Bhagavatam. I am American born, ninth
generation, of English and Dutch Protestant ancestry, but I immersed
myself for a few years in Indian culture and religion, and so I can
relate to some of these things more readily than the average
American. I came to know such people as individuals, and developed
an appreciation and a respect for their piety and way of life. The
average American fears what is alien and marginalizes such people to
the category of deluded fanatic.
I absolutely love Salman Rushdie's "Satanic Verses," but I suspect it is
because I am deeply immersed in the scriptures of Hinduism and
Islam. I don't think the average American reader can really appreciate
what is going on. They do not understand who Aiyesha was, or what it
might mean for someone to be nimbused in a cloud of butterflies, or
for that butterfly cumulus to take the formation of a human effigy and
plunge into the ocean. They have never immersed a salt statue of
Ganesh in the sea. They have never watched the 28 episodes of
Ramanand Sagar's "Ramayan" nor the 60 plus episodes of the
Mahabharat, so they do not understand the actors and audience of
the "theologicals." Any more than the average American can truly
appreciate Doestoevsky's "Brothers Karamazov" with no foundation in
Russian Orthodox monastic piety or the Philokalia.
I do not mean this out-loud rambling reminiscence of thoughts and
impressions to be a criticism either of the American readership or of
those who write in a cultural setting which is alien to America. I guess
I just want to share my personal reactions. And for you to understand
how I react, you must understand my unique circumstances a member
of a very small minority who straddles the fences of several religions
and cultures and languages.
It is an amusing coincidence that yesterday, an in-law, through
marriage, a Puerto Rican, asked me if it is true that people in India
worship salt. Their family was having a great dispute over this matter.
At first I was puzzled. I mentioned Gandhi's famous "salt march" to
protest the British ban on people making their own salt cheaply. Then
I remembered the immersion of the salt statues of Ganesh in the
ocean. I have met Indians who did not understand this practice, and
questioned me. I understood that the form or idol, called a "Murthi",
is considered a little house, and that God is invited to come as a guest
and stay in that house. But as long as that Murthi exists, it must be
served and worshiped and cared for each day, or one is being
disrespectful to God. But, if one does not have the time to treat the
Murthi properly, then it may be dissolved in the sea. Who in America
can understand such things?. Or, if they understand them, then they
think them savage and demonic and superstitious.
I have seen photos of Mother Theresa in a crowd, and I look at the
faces in the crowd, their expressions, and I understand that they are
Darshan seekers. Gandhi disliked the crowds of darshan seekers.
But who in America understands darshan?
Even the Muslims and Christian of India that I have met are so "Hindu"
in their outlook, because one absorbs such things by osmosis, living
immersed in such a culture for centuries. In the states, I once had a
rare opportunity to attend a Yom Kippur service held by those Jews
from Mumbai who are known as B'nai Israel. Their ancestors came to
India circa 200 B.C.E., fleeing the persecution of Emperor Antiochus
Epiphanes, described in the Maccabees Books of the Apocrypha (which
also mentions the mahouts and their elephants in ancient battle
scenes.) Those Jews who fled to Bombay found open arms in India,
the Mother of all religions, just as the Parsees (Zoroastrians) did circa
1000 C.E. fleeing the Muslim persecutions in Iran. India created a
place for these Jews in the caste system, calling them the "Saturday
Oil Bearers." I watched as these Jews from Mumbai celebrated their
day of Atonement. They were totally Indian in their features, and as
they spoke, some would wag their head back and forth in that
charming, endearing fashion which no non-Indian can imitate. I once
read a touching account of how, in Mumbai, during Yom Kippur, the
neighborhood Hindus knew that the Jews were forbidden to do any
work, so these Hindus would silently come to the Jewish homes, milk
their cows and goats (who cannot wait out a Sabbath) and leave the
pails of milk in the courtyard, to be taken in at sundown.
As I write all of this, I feel a few tears roll down my cheek. Such
writing opens up the enormous dam and floodgates of all these many
things which I have come to know and embody. My understanding
and experiences isolate and alienate me from the culture in which I
live. I see myself surrounded by such spiritual and intellectual
impoverishment and indifference. I try to be a still, small voice in the
wilderness, but my voice seems to reach few ears. I never sought to
become what I am, but it has come to pass, and now I am a stranger
in a strange land which was my native land. Was it Kierkegaard who
likens the artist to that bronze bull furnace, first mentioned in Dante's
Inferno, fashioned by Phalaris, cunningly crafted with convoluted pipes, which transmutes the pain and suffering of its captives within to an eerie, haunting, beautiful melody?
Once I was on a cruise ship, and I met two young Muslim crew
members who were from some country which is predominantly
Muslim, but with centuries of Hindu influence. They played with one
another an imaginary game, assuming roles from characters in the
Mahabharat, much as American children might play at cowboys and
indians (but they were in their 30's). Islam and Christianity and
Communism and Democracy and Capitalism are transformed and
colored through the lens of Indian culture.
The economy of India has so many levels coexisting; a 21st century
electronics/software technology, a 20th century industrial technology,
18th century cottage industries, and remote villages of tribals who
represent a literal Stone Age culture.
Well, I chose this thread to read somewhat at random, out of a sense
of duty, because I must not always take only and never give.
In one sense, you write your stories and poems, but in a difference
sense, you give birth to them. They are your children. You show me
your child, and shall I say that the nose should be smaller, or the ears
more round, or the eyes a different shade? Perhaps I can say that you
must dry his chin, or cover her with a blanket, or turn the stroller away
from the sun.
English and has posted excerpts at another forum, seeking advice.
http://p214.ezboard.com/fheavenspenniesfrm4.showMessage?topicID=178.topic
Here was my response:
I quickly skimmed through this long thread. I find what Anand writes
interesting. Regarding the issue of English (or American) grammar
and idiom, I am reminded of Milan Kundera, a Czech who lives in exile
in France, writes in Czech, and depends upon translators to render his
work into English (and other languages.) The point I am trying to
make is simply that if your work embodies plot and characters and
ideas of sufficient interest, then finding someone to do minor editing
of something that is already in English should be less of a daunting
challenge that the challenge someone like Kundera faces (and his
works are banned in his native land, and there are few Czech readers
in the diaspora.)
I remember in the 1970s, watching the nightly news and seeing a clip
of someone in India, astride an elephant, passing out birth control to a
crowd. We began to laugh, because we are used to crowds passing
peanuts to elephants, and here is an elephant passing condoms to
crowds. I remember other news items of programs which offered
men a free radio if they would undergo a vasectomy. We tend to
giggle and joke regarding sexual matter and forget how serious a
problem overpopulation can be. Just recently, I watch PBS (Public
Broadcasting Educational, similar to BBC) documentaries about the
aids crisis in India and also Africa. I believe it was the more
communist government of Calcutta who instituted a program of
education for the prostitutes and their clientele and by so doing
affected a dramatic decline in the AIDS rate, whereas in Mumbai,
government officials interviewed were saying things like "oh, it is the
fault of the women who do not practice good hygiene" or "it is poor
diet" (one heard the same comments among local officials in Africa.
The drama troupe reminds me of the Hare Krishna devotees I have
seen who travel about the U.S.A. dramatizing scenes from the
Mahabharat and Srimad Bhagavatam. I am American born, ninth
generation, of English and Dutch Protestant ancestry, but I immersed
myself for a few years in Indian culture and religion, and so I can
relate to some of these things more readily than the average
American. I came to know such people as individuals, and developed
an appreciation and a respect for their piety and way of life. The
average American fears what is alien and marginalizes such people to
the category of deluded fanatic.
I absolutely love Salman Rushdie's "Satanic Verses," but I suspect it is
because I am deeply immersed in the scriptures of Hinduism and
Islam. I don't think the average American reader can really appreciate
what is going on. They do not understand who Aiyesha was, or what it
might mean for someone to be nimbused in a cloud of butterflies, or
for that butterfly cumulus to take the formation of a human effigy and
plunge into the ocean. They have never immersed a salt statue of
Ganesh in the sea. They have never watched the 28 episodes of
Ramanand Sagar's "Ramayan" nor the 60 plus episodes of the
Mahabharat, so they do not understand the actors and audience of
the "theologicals." Any more than the average American can truly
appreciate Doestoevsky's "Brothers Karamazov" with no foundation in
Russian Orthodox monastic piety or the Philokalia.
I do not mean this out-loud rambling reminiscence of thoughts and
impressions to be a criticism either of the American readership or of
those who write in a cultural setting which is alien to America. I guess
I just want to share my personal reactions. And for you to understand
how I react, you must understand my unique circumstances a member
of a very small minority who straddles the fences of several religions
and cultures and languages.
It is an amusing coincidence that yesterday, an in-law, through
marriage, a Puerto Rican, asked me if it is true that people in India
worship salt. Their family was having a great dispute over this matter.
At first I was puzzled. I mentioned Gandhi's famous "salt march" to
protest the British ban on people making their own salt cheaply. Then
I remembered the immersion of the salt statues of Ganesh in the
ocean. I have met Indians who did not understand this practice, and
questioned me. I understood that the form or idol, called a "Murthi",
is considered a little house, and that God is invited to come as a guest
and stay in that house. But as long as that Murthi exists, it must be
served and worshiped and cared for each day, or one is being
disrespectful to God. But, if one does not have the time to treat the
Murthi properly, then it may be dissolved in the sea. Who in America
can understand such things?. Or, if they understand them, then they
think them savage and demonic and superstitious.
I have seen photos of Mother Theresa in a crowd, and I look at the
faces in the crowd, their expressions, and I understand that they are
Darshan seekers. Gandhi disliked the crowds of darshan seekers.
But who in America understands darshan?
Even the Muslims and Christian of India that I have met are so "Hindu"
in their outlook, because one absorbs such things by osmosis, living
immersed in such a culture for centuries. In the states, I once had a
rare opportunity to attend a Yom Kippur service held by those Jews
from Mumbai who are known as B'nai Israel. Their ancestors came to
India circa 200 B.C.E., fleeing the persecution of Emperor Antiochus
Epiphanes, described in the Maccabees Books of the Apocrypha (which
also mentions the mahouts and their elephants in ancient battle
scenes.) Those Jews who fled to Bombay found open arms in India,
the Mother of all religions, just as the Parsees (Zoroastrians) did circa
1000 C.E. fleeing the Muslim persecutions in Iran. India created a
place for these Jews in the caste system, calling them the "Saturday
Oil Bearers." I watched as these Jews from Mumbai celebrated their
day of Atonement. They were totally Indian in their features, and as
they spoke, some would wag their head back and forth in that
charming, endearing fashion which no non-Indian can imitate. I once
read a touching account of how, in Mumbai, during Yom Kippur, the
neighborhood Hindus knew that the Jews were forbidden to do any
work, so these Hindus would silently come to the Jewish homes, milk
their cows and goats (who cannot wait out a Sabbath) and leave the
pails of milk in the courtyard, to be taken in at sundown.
As I write all of this, I feel a few tears roll down my cheek. Such
writing opens up the enormous dam and floodgates of all these many
things which I have come to know and embody. My understanding
and experiences isolate and alienate me from the culture in which I
live. I see myself surrounded by such spiritual and intellectual
impoverishment and indifference. I try to be a still, small voice in the
wilderness, but my voice seems to reach few ears. I never sought to
become what I am, but it has come to pass, and now I am a stranger
in a strange land which was my native land. Was it Kierkegaard who
likens the artist to that bronze bull furnace, first mentioned in Dante's
Inferno, fashioned by Phalaris, cunningly crafted with convoluted pipes, which transmutes the pain and suffering of its captives within to an eerie, haunting, beautiful melody?
Once I was on a cruise ship, and I met two young Muslim crew
members who were from some country which is predominantly
Muslim, but with centuries of Hindu influence. They played with one
another an imaginary game, assuming roles from characters in the
Mahabharat, much as American children might play at cowboys and
indians (but they were in their 30's). Islam and Christianity and
Communism and Democracy and Capitalism are transformed and
colored through the lens of Indian culture.
The economy of India has so many levels coexisting; a 21st century
electronics/software technology, a 20th century industrial technology,
18th century cottage industries, and remote villages of tribals who
represent a literal Stone Age culture.
Well, I chose this thread to read somewhat at random, out of a sense
of duty, because I must not always take only and never give.
In one sense, you write your stories and poems, but in a difference
sense, you give birth to them. They are your children. You show me
your child, and shall I say that the nose should be smaller, or the ears
more round, or the eyes a different shade? Perhaps I can say that you
must dry his chin, or cover her with a blanket, or turn the stroller away
from the sun.