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| Review of Book | | 'Hashiye Par: for a Tree to Grow' | | Dr. Lakshmi Bandlamudi
In summer of 2013, I was in India to con-vene a conference on 'Dialogue' - based on the works of a Russian thinker, Mikhail Bakhtin. Before the conference scheduled for August 2013, I was on a lecture tour to various universities to present segments from my recent book - Dialogics of Self, The Mahabharata and Culture - and University of Jammu was one of the institutions I visited. My experiences in J&K taught me more about 'dialogue' - its potentialities, possibilities and conditions that enable or disable - than what my academic world could possibly offer. Experiences were vivid: some spots in the landscape offered perfect emblems of dialogue, the Ghodawallahs, Shikarawallahs, tourist guides and other people in the streets shared their captivating tales and I had the good fortune of meeting a writer and his characters from his debut novel.
These experiences have grown on me and I have been reflecting on them in the wake of the floods last year and assembly elections in J&K. On Friday , July 19, 2013, my lecture was arranged at the University of Jammu and surely anything to do with the Mahabharata generates curiosity and excitement and the discussion was lively and engaging. The following day I was to visit Mata Vaishnavo Devi temple, which the forecasts said would be a rainy day. But around 9 p.m. there was a knock at my door.
A gentleman introduced himself as Guneet Singh and said he attended my talk earlier that morning and said his friend was unable to do so due to professional commitments and was waiting in the lobby to meet me. I said I would see them in the lobby in a few minutes, but my mind was on the temple, the trek and the bad weather and there was something more; unrest in Srinagar and other parts of Kashmir that I was scheduled to visit.
Everyone I talked to in Jammu urged me to cancel my trip to Srinagar. Besides, curfew was already declared. So, I was not sure about engaging in a meaningful conversation with these two gentlemen at that late hour.
Guneet Singh introduced the tall man in uniform as Shailender Singh, Superintendent of Police and an author of two novels in Dogri. What an interesting combination, I thought, and I was curious to know more about his works - both as a law enforcement official and an author.
The mystique further intensified when Shailender Singh mentioned that he was born in Pakistan occupied Kashmir and fled to India during the Indo-Pak war. Curiosity took over anxiety. I forgot all about trekking to the shrine and my trip to Srinagar. But these two gentlemen were now more concerned about the very things I wanted set aside.
They gathered the telephone number of the driver scheduled to drive me to Katra and spoke to him and instructed him to lend his spare SIM card to me. My pre-paid SIM card was disabled once I entered J&K. Shailender quickly called someone and arranged for a VIP pass. Honestly, any kind of special treatment makes me cringe. I thought I would stand in the long queue like every other pilgrim to get the Darshan. But their effort, hospitality and concern for my safety overwhelmed me.
About my trip to Srinagar, Shailender Singh said unequivocally that I would be safe. Well, if the superintendent of police who has inside knowledge about security assures me, what is there to fear? So, Monday I was scheduled to take a short flight from Jammu to Srinagar and Sunday was the day to have an extended chat with these gentlemen. What an interesting twist - when there was a knock at my door 40 minutes earlier, I thought my sleep was disturbed - but in reality I had a restful night only because there was a knock at the door.
The trip to Mata Vaishnavo Devi went well, despite the rain. Divine Grace along with my two guardian angels, who periodically kept in contact with my driver to ensure my safety, surely gave me the blessed feeling. On Sundaymorning Shailender Singh called to make plans for the day and asked if I would be interested in visiting the border area, to which I readily consented, not knowing what to expect.
The Indo-Pak border at Suchetgarh is about two hours drive from Jammu. An unusual feeling of calmness descended on my when I arrived there, as if I had come to the gates of a monastery. Just a few yards away from me was the Pakistani territory, and I wondered how everything within and around me was so calm and promising. Sure, it was a bright balmy day. Here I am at the official border separating two warring neighbors - a divided house, and an ongoing sibling rivalry - and it is at this borderland that I found an ideal emblem that would match my inner feelings of purpose.
Besides, how often do you come across something that symbolizes an idea that has been the pre-occupation of your intellectual life? Right on the borderline stands a huge banyan tree, such that half of the tree is on the Indian soil and the other half on the Pakistani soil. I have read in narratives on partition about dividing lines cutting across backyards and kitchens of families, but here I see a tree standing firm on the borderline. On either side of the tree there are two identical cement platforms, one in India and the other in Pakistan. Shailender explained that when soldiers from either side need to discuss any matter, they would blow a whistle to invite the other side to their platform for adiscussion.
The tall banyan tree offers shelter to both the platforms. Mother Nature always appears to be impartial. One would wish that dialogue between the two countries was as simple as blowing a whistle and get the parties to congregate on the dialogic platforms.
Since Border Security Force accompanied us and Shailender himself is a trained BSF Commando, I technically crossed the border. Shailender and Guneet took turns to say, "stand on the Pakistani platform," "you came to India to convene a conference on dialogue," "dialogue is most needed here," and "let us take a photograph," and sure enough I stood on the Pakistani platform and waved at their security tower. Perhaps the Pakistani soldiers were amused, even while their guns were pointed towards me.
I was told that this being an international border, there have been no skirmishes for more than two decades, but I learnt from Shailender that recently there were several ceasefire violations in this region and he had been busy getting many villagers in this region evacuated.
I shall leave to readers' imagination the overtones of this tree and the platforms for Indo-Pak elations, but my story here is about an author and his hero and their dialogues on multiple levels. Borderlands, margins and shared spaces have incredible semantic possibilities and dialogic potential, because the individual inhabits ambiguous zones where differences must be negotiated and accommodated. My conversations with Shailender Singh convinced me that he is a man of extraordinary sensitivities and sensibilities. His work of fiction is a homegrown genre - emerging from the ground realities he keenly observes- and not from the influences of some abstract literary work. It has the authenticity and earthiness of lived life and therefore the characters come alive, rather than being mechanical mouthpieces of the author, which so often is the case. He embodies the discipline and decisiveness of a law enforcement official and the tenderness of emotions and daring imagination of a writer.
This is what makes him acutely mindful of the disjunction between discourses of bureaucracy and the desperate needs of the people, particularly the marginalized ones. This kind of negotiation is the telltale theme of a real dialogue. For a refugee, and Shailender is one - the very idea of home is mixed - the loss of home and the longing for what was left behind is mixed with a troubling sense that reclaiming what was lost is only a dream.
Like the banyan tree on the border , consciousness of a refugee also stands on dual or multiple spaces, waiting for the governing bodies to congregate on the platforms. Sadly , many of them spend their lifetime staring at these empty platforms. Shailender told me that throughout his life he saw trauma and hope in the eyes of elders in his family, always hoping that one day India would regain their place of birth. How does one give expression to this psychological truth? Writing about the perennial conflict between neighboring countries would be all too literal and perhaps even futile.
This brewing energy must be channeled to other contexts and Shailender Singh's debut novel depicts the tug of war between psychological hope and experienced despair that comes from social injustice.
Shailender Singh's debut novel written in Dogri and recently translated into English - Hashiye Par - literally meaning 'On the Margins' is a very poignant universal tale about Madan (also known as Maddy) and his family that belong to the community of Jheewars in the Chenab valley and this community for centuries has been marginalized and placed on the lowest rung of the social totem pole. The uniqueness of this work is not so much in the storyline, as much as the author's ability to portray the depths of his hero's soul. The author presents not a fixed image of his characters, but as their personalities emerge amidst a changing world. How does the world around him appear to Madan? An illiterate person living in abject poverty displays incredible logic and reason in interpreting and judging the world around him. Like a tormented character in Dostoevsky's novels, Maddy is forever engaged in internal debates about the illogical and unfair nature of government schemes.
Shailender's ability to portray in vivid detail the psychological landscape of his characters and the socio-cultural landscape that inhabit deserves merit and that is a good reason to pick up a copy of this book. The protagonist Madan and his family live in a tiny hut made of cane and Saroot grass and his persistent dream is to live in a "pukka house."
The author very deftly depicts the chillness and dampness inside dentally the author does share this experience with his hero.
Shailender told me that the tents in the refugee camps did not protect him and his family from the winter chill or the summer dry hot air. Like Madan's children, his schooling was also under a banyan tree and drinking water from a nearby canal and studying was around kerosene lit lamp. Unlike the fictional character Madan, who has always lived below poverty line, the author had to leave behind the comforts of his home and flee to a new place and live as a refugee.
Writing from this experiential knowledge, the author neither patronizes nor romanticizes his hero. Instead he portrays Maddy as an individual in his own right, with his aspirations and expectations. Reading about the living conditions of Madan, I could not help but think about thousands of poor people who were affected by the recent floods in J&K. Madan's hopes rise when he hears about a government program to give financial assistance to villagers like him to build cement houses and since he is the poorest of the poor, he felt assured that he would receive the funding, but much to his disappointment his name doesn't even appear in the government list. I am wondering how many hundreds or thousands of Madans are living in harsh conditions right now after losing their homes in the recent floods. During the election season, I am sure that candidates from every political party made tall promises.
A good piece of fiction manages to take you beyond the text and pushes you to contemplate on similar issues in cultural life. Shailender Singh manages to do just that - facilitate a dialogue between the text, reader and the world around them. He does not write exclusively from a position of power and privilege; instead he uses his first hand experience of close contact with government officials to point out how and why institutions fail to address the genuine concerns of marginalized people like Madan. Shailender Singh knows all too well about power and vulnerability and like the banyan tree on the border, he is firmly anchored in both the worlds to explore how power might dialogue with the vulnerable to pull the latter on to a higher plane.
That is why it is rewarding to read his literary work. A hallmark of dialogue is to recognize, understand and respect the other as an individual in his own right.
As an author Shailender does not control or take possession of his hero, despite some shared experiences. Instead he allows his hero to traverse his social landscape and struggle with it to find his denouement. Madan experiences a series of disappointments from government programs and promises. He not only does not receive money to build a pukka house, but also when he is hired as a daily wage earner in a government construction program, he receives payment through a check that he cannot encash because he has no bank account.
He is too poor and too illiterate to deal with a bank. It is good to know that one of the goals of Narendra Modi's government is to enable poor people like Madan to open bank accounts.
Government programs never reached Madan and when he reaches a state of despondency, his wife Kanta suggests sharecropping as a way to feed the family. It is from this point in the story that Madan discovers his inner strength and resilience. A different kind of intra-psychic dialogue begins, pushing away the earlier dialogue between government promises and his justified expectation and replacing it with a dialogue between his limited means and bold aspirations.
The story of Madan and his family is one among the many captivating tales I heard in J&K. As per schedule, I arrived in Srinagar on Monday and found the city and its people to be incredibly welcoming. A middle-aged gentleman picked me up at the airport and took me to my houseboat on Dal Lake.
Later that afternoon he returned to take me on a sightseeing trip in Srinagar. He told me that he was keeping Roza - Ramadan fasting and at sunset he would have to break his fast. He then said, "Today is Sravan Somwar, so I will first take you to ShivMandir on the Shankaracharya Hill and then proceed to the lakes and gardens in Srinagar ." I was so touched by this kind and thoughtful gesture. Later when he came to know my name, he remarked, "Accha, this is your town," "how so" I asked and he replied, "Sri is another name for Lakshmi and you are Lakshmi." I was flattered. I had a splendid time the next few days visiting Gulmarg, Pahalgam, Sonmarg and other surrounding places. The spectacular landscape was a treat to my eyes; tales told by Godawallahs, Shikarawallahs and tourist guides were riveting and the warmth and hospitality of the people was overwhelming.
Every sensory input was magical and the utterances of people seemed sincere. I felt safe and protected and people were eager to share their hopes and despair There is an India that I like to encounter and preserve - pluralistic, respectful and decent to the core- and I am glad I got in touch with that India in J&K.
This India often becomes invisible against the glare of media and its voice gets muted against the loud noise of news and social media. Like the fictional character Madan, countless number of people in J&K have been living on the margins, facing constant conflict and uncertainties. They hunger for a real dialogue - want to be heard and hear something promising - and as in a real dialogue, their voices are charged with ambiguities and complexities. If only someone could hear their nuanced thoughts and real struggles, rather than affirming or repudiating their lives and use them to score political points. Amidst all the chaos, it is good to know that there are considerate people like Shailender Singh, who are willing to listen and understand the challenges of ordinary people and invite us to hear their voices. It is one thing to go to India to convene an academic conference on dialogue, which by the way went very well, but the reward of actually engaging in a dialogue with real people in real time is priceless indeed. I followed the elections in J&K in the hope that whoever came to power should address the needs of the people. They deserve it. Pity, no party or coalition could win a majority to form the government. Like the banyan tree on the border, Mother Nature is all in her glory in this area, but to enjoy this nature's bounty, the governing bodies must congregate at those platforms on either side of the banyan tree. Let us hope we will see that day. Dr. Lakshmi Bandlamudi is Professor of Psychology at LaGuardia Community College in Flushing, NY. The debut novel written originally in Dogri by Shailender Singh, a police officer, was recently translated into English and published by Oxford University Press. The author is a recipient of Sahitya Akademi Award & Prof. Ram Nath Shastri Memorial Award. |
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