Book Review: The Idol Thief by S. Vijay Kumar

 

My mind is still reeling, hours after I’ve finished reading this book. The sheer scale of looting that has been going on in our temples is mind boggling. Billions of dollars are spent on ancient Indian art - idols, sculptures, paintings, without bothering about how it got to them.

This book reads like a fast-paced thriller, even though it’s non-fiction. A must read for everyone who is proud of their culture, heritage, ancestry and history, to understand how our national treasures are being looted and smuggled out of the country into greedy hands of museums and private collectors. 

It also pains to see how indifferent Indian authorities are towards these crimes and how unconcerned they are about catching the criminals.

The author Vijay Kumar has been closely involved in efforts to bring at least some of the idols home. A blogger keenly interested in Indian temple art and iconography, he has built an invaluable community and database which is helping enormously with this effort.

Why is it so important to bring the idols back home to their temples? What is the problem if they’re sitting inside glass cases in museums or private homes for people to ogle at? This paragraph I’ve reproduced here from the book explains why. Our gods are connected to us in a very personal, emotional way and in my opinion, there has been no better description of what these idols mean to us…

“First, idols were not created as just pieces of art but as representations of god meant to be housed, taken care of and prayed to inside temples… The technical brilliance and the artistry of these idols is meant to be experienced inside a temple, at the intoxicating confluence of spirituality, art and aesthetics. They are meant to inspire awe and devotion. They are meant to be seen at the same time as you hear the ringing of bells, the chanting of shlokas and mantras, the beating of drums. They are meant to be seen in the light of oil lamps or on magnificent chariots on festival days. They are meant to be seen when your senses are consumed by the smells of ghee and incense and fresh flowers and camphor. They are not meant to be seen behind cages of glass, inside sterile museums or galleries that cannot even begin to recreate the unique sensation that overtakes you when you view temple art while it is in its womb, in and around the temple's sanctum sanctorum.”

So go read this book. Learn, understand. The more people are aware and are talking about it, the better the chances for more of our treasures to come back home.

Book review: Temple of a Thousand Faces by John Shors

 

34%, 170 pages in and this book is getting tedious to read. I picked it up because Angkor Wat fascinates me and I wanted to read its story. Who built it, how did it look, who were the people who lived during those times, etc. But this book is set a little after the temple complex was built, there’s a siege and a war between the Khmers and the Chams. There’s a whole lot of bloodshed, torture, spying on each other and more war, not something I want to read right now. The writing is superb, and if you’re in the mood for blood and gore and a whole lot of heartache, it’s a great book, but I’m not sure when or if I will ever pick it up again to finish it.

Book review: The Walking Brahmin

 

What an amazing story this was. A personal adventure, as well as an insight into the political upheaval of one of the most pivotal period in the Indian Independence movement. It’s not a very large book, and I finished it in 3 days!

Vishnubhat Godse and his uncle Rambhat go on a pilgrimage from a small village in Maharashtra to Kashi, in order to earn some dakshina to help the financial status of their large, poor family. Not long into their travel, they get caught right in the thick of the 1857 war. They almost lose their lives twice during the looting and pillaging in the aftermath of wars, get robbed several times of all their belongings including the dakshina they had earned until then, and meanwhile even get to meet Rani Lakshmibai of Jhansi. 

They do manage to complete their teerthyatra, also visiting Ayodhya on the way before finally reaching Kashi. They return safely 3 years after they left home. The journey changed Vishnubhat’s perspective, worldview and his lifestyle, and he gives up the idea of a life of luxury. He spends the rest of his life in austerity. He pens down their adventure in detail several years later for his descendants, and one of his disciples gets it published in Marathi a few years after his death.

The book has details about the Jhansi war that I found most fascinating, but also left me disgusted at the way the British systematically looted the city afterwards. This knowledge is not new, but reading about it from the perspective of a commoner hits you anew. Thousands of men between the age of 5-60 were slaughtered mindlessly just for the mistake of having lived in that city. Crores of rupees worth of riches were taken from Jhansi and Kalpi alone! Vishnubhat was a witness to all this. 

I’m thankful to Maneesh Godbole for discovering this book and then deciding to translate it in English. The story has been narrated largely in just the way Vishnubhat had written it, with some commentaries of his own. It makes for a very interesting, illuminating read.

Book review - Ponniyin Selvan

 

If I had to tell you in one sentence what I thought of ‘Ponniyin Selvan’, it would have to be this - One hell of a thrilling rollercoaster ride! Oh, to have been a fly on the wall in those times! History, mysteries, intrigue, conspiracies, secrets, romances, philosophy, art… it has everything.

This was my first step into Tamil literature, and I cannot think of a better book to start off with. The Chola empire is a familiar name, but my knowledge of Tamil history is confined to the very restricting pages of high school textbooks. Who were the Cholas, what were the kings’ names? Who were the kings’ families and friends? Who were their subjects? How did they live? The author has skillfully blended answers to these questions and more with his vibrant imagination and woven them all so intricately and beautifully into the story, and this in my opinion is the reason why it makes such a compelling read.

There isn’t much I can say about this series that hasn’t been said already by readers who have loved this story from the beginning when it was published as a serialized novel. I started off with the first book slowly, expecting it to be just another historical fiction, but soon ended up devouring all the six books in the series one after the other in just under a month.

I cannot read the book in original Tamil by Kalki, but enjoyed the English translation by Karthik Narayanan nevertheless. It’s not the polished language that an original English book would be in, but I think that’s a good thing, because it very satisfyingly conveys the “mannina suvaasane” feeling (literally translated to 'scent of the soil') (can’t think of a better way to say it) of the Tamil people and their glorious, ancient history.

Book review: Women of Pride by Lakshmi Vishwanathan

The first time I heard the word Devadasi was about 22 years ago, when as part of my job, I was assigned to accompany a few people visiting the Devadasi rehabilitation program by an NGO in Saundathi in Belgaum. The town is known for its historic Yellamma temple, also known as Renuka temple, where girls are dedicated to Goddess Yellamma in an elaborate ceremony once a year, and become Devadasis, also called Jogatis. What I learned about the Devadasis in this visit was from the NGO reps, and they painted a picture of abject poverty, prostitution, exploitation, and disease. Unfortunately, what I remember most is their matted hair, which was the first thing the NGO helped get rid of when they convinced a Devadasi to get out of that system.

I had visited the Yellamma temple, and the homes of several ex, as well as practicing devadasis, in remote villages in that district. The poverty cannot be denied, and for a long time now that is what has been driving the parents to dedicate their young daughters to the Goddess. When the girls attain puberty, they are immediately claimed by men who pay small amounts of money, which enables the parents to eke out a living. Many many of them eventually make their way to cities like Bombay and become one among the thousands in the red-light district. Basically, it has turned into a religion-sanctioned prostitution racket.

That visit stayed with me for a very long time. I was intrigued by the Devadasis, their history, and their lives, and wanted to know more, but life took over. When I saw a review of ‘Women of Pride’, I had to pick it up.

What I found was that the Devadasi tradition of Saundathi was nowhere close to what was depicted in this book. But it was a fascinating read, nevertheless. Where did the term Devadasi come from, what does it mean, who were these women, what did they do? There are so many myths debunked in this book. The Devadasi heritage is one of empowerment, not exploitation. The women were married to the Deity, and played important roles in temples, as well as in kings’ courts. They were educated, cultured, independent, powerful, and held in a high regard in society. How progressive the society was then!

The book not only traces the history of the Devadasis but elaborates on what caused their downfall too. When the British came, they brought with them colonial prejudices and prudishness, and began taking control of temples. Undermining and ultimately destroying Indian culture in order to divide and rule became their utmost priority. The Devadasis were branded with the label of immorality, their children were labelled illegitimate, their assets including the lands that were given to their ancestors by kings were seized and they were left to languish in poverty. In the end, because of their various laws, the Devadasi system came to be regarded as a social evil that needed to be abolished from society.

The stories of all the famous Devadasis mentioned in the book gives us a glimpse of our rich culture and heritage. It tells us how Bharatanatyam as a classical dance form evolved over centuries and came to be what it is today.

This book was an eye-opener of sorts for me, but has left me slightly unsatisfied too. I now want to read more on the subject, especially the Devadasi culture of Saundathi. Any recommendations are welcome!

Book review: Kintsugi by Anukrti Upadhyay

 

Picked up this book for the title, and because of the author’s other two books I’ve loved – Bhaunri and Daura. Kintsugi, the Japanese art of mending broken things with gold, stems from the philosophy that damage is a part of that object’s history, and does not need to be hidden. Rather, it gets enhanced by gold. I love that.

But what happens when people break? How do we mend our broken hearts and souls? Doesn’t the philosophy behind Kintsugi apply to humans too? How do we teach ourselves to accept and love our damaged selves and start believing that we are stronger and more beautiful now because of that damage and not despite it?

This book is about extraordinary women, incomplete, beautiful, broken, and damaged, connecting India and Japan, also taking us to Singapore and Borneo. Most of these women find the strength to mend themselves with gold, enamel, precious stones, and love, and a few of them believe they are too broke to be mended ever.

The simplicity of the writing is contradictory to the complex characters and the way their relationships are intertwined throughout the story. Despite this complexity, there is also a sense of serenity, calmness, and a quietness between the sentences. It’s a feeling difficult to describe, but something you won’t miss noticing.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading it and will happily give it 5 stars. Kudos to the author Anukrti Upadhyay for this beautiful beautiful story. I must also mention, I finished reading this 200+ page book in just under 3 days! 

 

 

 

Darkness

The kind that creeps in and catches you unawares, even as you are naively living your sunshine life, believing that maybe some of it is behind you.

The soft velvet kind that tempts you, pulls you towards itself slowly, compels you to reach out, yields to your touch and dips a little at first, gets even darker, and pulls you in even deeper.

The kind that does not envelop you all at once but slowly erases you from your outer edges, imperceptibly, until one day you're blacker than black like the Darkness itself. 

The kind that shows itself suddenly, makes sure you know it's here to stay, and stays on as your shadow, never wavering, always by your side, always following. 

The kind that has always stayed by your side, just at that blurred edge of your vision, never announcing its presence, never revealing itself, but never letting your forget.

The kind that has always been there, taking you in its arms when you needed it to, enveloping you in its cool yet warm embrace, keeping you safe until the promised dawn.

 🖤

  

 

Chennabhairadevi by Dr. Gajanana Sharma

 

It’s been a full day since I have finished reading ‘Chennabhairadevi’ by Dr. Gajanana Sharma and I still feel hung over with all the emotions the books made me feel.

 

Somewhere along history’s murky depths, the story of this extraordinary queen, the last ruler of the Tuluva-Salva lineage who probably had the longest reign as a woman ruler has been forgotten, except in the memories of people in some parts of her erstwhile empire.

 

Almost all stories of kings and queens are filled with wars fought, kingdoms conquered and the wealth they accumulated. Chennabhairadevi did not care for any of these but the welfare of her subjects. Throughout her rule, her focus stayed on building up her people’s lives and keeping her kingdom together.

 

How many of us is aware now that she singlehandedly kept the Portuguese from occupying all of the land south of Goa? That she provided refuge to thousands of people who were desperate to escape the Portuguese’s forced religious conversions in Goa? She built up the spice trade with Europe, especially pepper, and earned the title “Raina de Pimenta” or the ‘Pepper Queen’ from the Portuguese.

 

The book not only describes in vivid detail the queen’s shrewdness, her idealism and her spiritualism, but also manages to show her sensitive side, and her instinctive way of responding to her people’s needs. Other people in the story like Jinadatta, Shabale and Satrajita have such depth of characters and I will not forget them soon. The way the places, villages, nature, forts and palaces have been described took me straight there and is another reason why I’m still hung over!

 

The last few pages of the book brought tears to my eyes. The scene where the 74-year old queen stands on the balcony of her palace in pouring rain, her hands chained, admitting to her people that she failed in protecting their land, requesting them to remain calm and peaceful and assuring them that they will not be harmed is so poignant, and shows the author’s writing prowess. My only complaint about this book is that I didn’t want it to end. I could have just kept on reading.

 

The book might be a work of fiction, although based on facts and events painstakingly put together piece-by-piece by the author, but the fact shines through that Chennabhairadevi was an extraordinary queen. It pains my heart that even with all my interest with Indian history, I had not heard of this queen until just a few years ago, who ruled almost the entire coastal Karnataka, (the place where my origins lay) for a whopping 54 years!

 

The author has written in detail about why she remained in the shadows all these years in his introduction to the book, and that itself is though-provoking, even before you start reading the actual story.

 

It makes me furious and frustrated that stories like hers are not told, but are kept hidden, deliberately and sometimes with envy and malice. These are the people on whom our heritage stands. THIS is our history, and THIS is what needs to be taught to our children.

 

I hope this book gets translated to English soon, so that more people even outside of Karnataka can read it and appreciate this powerful, brave, benevolent and kind queen.

 

The Last Queen - Rani Jindan

As with almost all books about India’s last queens and kings, this book too made my heart ache with every page I turned. These stories are all filled with lies, deceit, betrayal, oppression, bad decisions juxtaposed with a whole lot of bravery, love and honour, making them very difficult, yet fascinating reads.

In ‘The Last Queen’, Chitra Bannerjee Divakaruni’s writing as always brings out all these human traits and emotions into sharp focus. Rani Jindan comes across as a beautiful, passionate, stubborn and strong woman who is also as flawed as any other human. Her struggles to protect her son and his heritage against all odds and her acceptance of his choices is heart rending. It’s a beautifully written book, and I couldn’t put it down once I started reading it. So different from Divakaruni’s usual theme or story telling style, but still as brilliant as any of her other books.

For sure, it’s a tale that needed to be told. How many more queens and kings are lost within the folds of time, whose stories we don’t know? This is why I’m drawn to historical fiction. Real people, real stories, lives so different than ours, yet in so many ways so similar. I hadn’t heard of Rani Jindan before I read this book. And having read this now, I feel hungry for even more stories like hers.

Deepavali 🪔

"'Twas a light that made darkness itself appear a thing of comfort.

- Robert Southey

The traditional Deepavali lantern or 'kandeelu' as we call it, did just that to me. They still evoke fond memories of lights, delicious food, new clothes and a general feeling of love, laughter and warmth.

It was one of the must-haves of Deepavali as were growing up, hanging right outside the house on the porch, spilling muted light into a pool of warm glow. I vaguely remember the excitement of the whole family participating with comments, opinions, advice and anticipation as the lantern was being hung up just before Deepavali every year, but I clearly remember standing under it afterwards, gazing at the beauty of it and a general feeling of "all's right with my world" filling up my heart and making me insanely happy.

Those colourful paper lanterns were made by local artisans and sold at the local market around Deepavali. In recent years they seem to have disappeared and have been replaced by cheap plastic versions. Chinese plastic lanterns in garish colours seem to have flooded the shops and the only other alternative are the cloth ones with mirrorwork on them, that you find hanging in almost every restaurant and cafe in touristy places like Goa.

I've been searching for the lanterns from my childhood for many many years now, but haven't had any luck.

 

 

So this year I decided to make my own version of a lantern. My medium is yarn, and my art is crochet, so I went with that. I did some research for a pattern but could not find any that I liked, so I winged it, and crocheted this lantern.

If you do crochet and want to know how I made this, please ask and I'll write up the pattern for you. 

 

It kind of looks like stained glass and looks absolutely gorgeous hung up on my balcony with a soft yellow light bulb inside. 

 

Just look at the light pattern it throws out! 

 

Muted light - check

Warmth - check

Feeling of accomplishment - check

😇

 

For the next year's Deepavali though, I AM definitely learning how to make my own paper lantern like the old ones. You know, the octagonal ones where each panel has a different colour, and has trails of paper streaming from the bottom... If you know where I can buy them, or a tutorial which will teach me how to make one, please let me know in the comments and I'd be forever grateful to you!

Happy Deepavali, everyone! I wish upon you a festival full of sweet childhood memories, a home full of light, a heart full of joy and a life full of love. 

 

♥️🪔