The elephant whisperer

 

Parbati Barua, the first female mahout of India, has won the Padma Shri for 2024 

By Shevlin Sebastian 

On the night of January 25, 2024, Parbati Barua had switched on a news channel on the television at her home in Guwahati. She felt her body tremble when the anchor announced she had won the Padma Shri (Social Work) for her career as the first female mahout in India. 

A few minutes later, she got a call from a central government official who confirmed the news. But her neighbours did not come, because they knew she went to sleep at 8 p.m. And got up at 4 a.m. 

“My work has finally received official recognition,” she says. “This was also a recognition of the enormous amount of work mahouts put in. It is a 24/7 job. People will not understand unless they see it first-hand. My heart is always with the mahouts.” 

In 1989, Parbati had received the ‘Global 500 – Roll of Honour’ award from the United Nations Environment Programme for her work in the welfare and management of wild and captive elephants. There was also a BBC documentary. 

Parbati’s elder sister, the legendary folk singer, Pratima Barua Pandey (1934-2002), had also won the Padma Shri in 1991. She had a tie-up with the legendary Assamese singer Bhupen Hazarika.

As Parbati drifted off to sleep, a memory came to her mind. 

When she was ten years old, one day her mother Bina said, “Do you know when you saw an elephant for the first time?” 

As Parbati narrowed her eyes and tried to remember, Bina said, “You will not be able to recall. When you were one month and 17 days old, your father placed you on the back of an elephant. You had a smile on your face. You fell in love with elephants instantly.” 

Parbati belonged to the royal family of Gauripur, in Dhubri district in Assam. The family lived near the river Gadadhar. Her father, Prakritish Chandra Barua had a stable of 40 elephants at the back of the house. Because of Prakritish’s immense love for elephants, Parbati also developed a similar affection. “Baba was my guru,” says Parbati. “He taught me how to look after and care for elephants.” 

Every day, Prakritish would go to the stables. Parbati accompanied him. One day Prakritish told Parbati, “Give them love. They will love you in return.” This simple statement remained etched in Parbati’s mind. 

Parbati has eight brothers and sisters. But it was only she who has dedicated her life to looking after elephants. After observing the work of mahouts for several years, she became one in 1972. “The best way to learn is through practical experience,” she says. 

Because she is 70 years old, Parbati has only one elephant, Lakhimala, with her. Lakhimala stays in the village of Kalpani, around 123 kms from the capital, Guwahati. 

As for the food she gives the elephant, it includes banana leaves, green grass and branches of trees. Because the village is near the jungle, it is not expensive, as everything is available. “But in the town where natural materials are not easily available, it can get expensive,” she says. Sometimes, when it is freezing, she gives Lakhimala boiled rice and rum because it helps to keep the elephant warm. 

Asked how elephants show love, Parbati says, “It is through the eyes. And you get a feeling that they love you. You can gauge it only when you spend time with them. It is a silent language.” 

Elephants have similar characters like human beings. “Each has a unique personality,” says Parbati. “There are introverted and extroverted elephants. There are leaders and followers. Some are very social. Many are benevolent and kind-hearted. They have enormous patience. Only when they reach the limit of their patience do they get angry. They love children, be it human beings or any other animal like tiger or deer. Elephants will never harm children.” 

And they usually get along with each other within the herd. “They are very co-operative,” says Parbati. Once in a while, there is a quarrel. Then it can be a fight to the death between two elephants. “Sometimes the fight can last for three days non-stop,” says Parbati. “It is painful to watch. But it is wise not to interfere.” 

Asked whether elephants are better than human beings, Parbati says, “100 percent. Human beings can be so cruel.”  

Whenever elephants are sick, injured or become rogue, the authorities in Bengal, Orissa and Assam call Parbati. So she is on the road often. “This is my destiny,” she says.

Elephants become rogue for various reasons. It is when human beings oppress them, or they get injured. “There is no proper treatment inside the jungle,” says Parbati. “When the pain becomes unbearable, they can get angry. They will attack people at that moment.” 

The forest department has no option but to eliminate them. “They become like man-eating tigers,” says Parbati. 

Professor Aloke Kumar, Professor of Communications at the Indian Institute of Management in Kolkata, who has closely followed Parbati’s career, says, “In an incident in Bengal's Medinipur district, a herd of over 50 elephants, went off course and were wandering towards human habitation. When the authorities couldn't get the situation under control, they turned to Parbati. With her team and four elephants, she guided the tuskers back to the jungle.”

The good news, she says, is that the elephant population has remained stable. According to the 2017 elephant census, the nationwide population stands at 29,964. Karnataka has the highest number, at 6395, while Parbati’s home state of Assam has 5719.  

Asked about her most memorable experience, Parbati says it was when she lassoed an elephant in the Kachugaon forest for the first time. “I was only 14 years old,” she says. “I am the only lady, not only in India, but perhaps in Asia, who has achieved this feat. Our family later sold the elephant. Since it was over 50 years ago, I don’t know whether it is alive or passed away.”  

(An edited version was published in The Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

The long and the short of it

With director Blessy at the Crowne Plaza, Kochi.

His film, 'Aadujeevitham - The Goat life', has received critical and popular acclaim

Creating a sandstorm at the box office

Blessy’s ‘Aadujeevitham- The Goat Life’ is a critical and commercial success. The director talks about the many experiences he went through during the shooting.

By Shevlin Sebastian

At Director Blessy’s temporary office at the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Kochi, on a summer afternoon, the phone calls keep coming. They are from London, Belfast and North America, where there is a sizeable Malayali population. People are complimenting him on his latest film, ‘Aadujeevitham- The Goat Life’. Blessy always responds with a soft, “Thank you.”

The film is a critical and commercial success. His associates, who mill around, are smiling. At 2.45 p.m., Blessy finally has lunch. It comprises a green leafy salad topped off by a glass of watermelon juice.

‘Aadujeevitham’ is based on a best-selling novel by Malayalam writer Benyamin. It is a true story of a labourer called Najeeb Mohammed, who lived in a village called Arattupuzha. To better his economic prospects, he flew to Saudi Arabia in 1993. But he ended up working in the desert, far away from human habitation, looking after 700 goats. The Saudi boss treated him like a slave. After two-and-a-half years of agony, Naseem managed to escape through the desert and return home.

Blessy’s first and only choice as hero was Prithviraj. “I knew I needed an actor who would have the dedication,” said Blessy. “The shooting would take around two years. Second, Prithviraj is an intelligent actor.”

This was important. When Blessy interviewed Najeeb, he could not articulate the emotions he went through except to say he cried a lot. So Prithviraj had to discover the emotions of a man in the morass of despair. “I knew Prithviraj had the calibre to do this,” said Blessy.

Of course, the extraordinary transformation of Prithviraj from a healthy man to become stick and bones, because of a lack of proper food, is a sight to behold. Prithviraj lost over 30 kgs mainly by starving. “Yes, it was an incredible effort by Prithvraj,” said Blessy.

But, during the shoot, Blessy faced obstacles. The original plan was to shoot the desert sequences at the Thar Desert in Rajasthan. When he went there, he discovered Indian goats looked different from Saudi Arabian goats. So they decided to import around 100 goats from Saudi Arabia. But to do this, the goats would have to be in quarantine for one month in Dubai.

After that, veterinary doctors would inspect the goats to ensure that they had no viruses. Only after that would they issue a certificate. When the goats would disembark at the port of Kandla in Gujarat, they had to remain in quarantine for one month. If any goat fell sick or died during this time, the authorities would cull the entire group. So the director gave up the idea.

Blessy went in search of the ideal desert. He travelled to Morocco, Tunisia, Bahrain, Egypt, Oman, and Abu Dhabi. Finally, he zeroed in on Wadi Rum in Jordan, and the Timimoun desert in Algeria.

Indeed, the desert visuals in the film are stunning: vast vistas of undulating sands, followed by high mountains and rocky formations. “Members of the Bedouin tribe live there,” said Blessy. “They added to the charm of the place.”

But the shooting was very difficult. The logistical challenges were immense. The climatic conditions changed all the time. It could become freezing cold or boiling hot. “A sandstorm could start at any moment,” said Blessy. In the end, they could shoot only between March and May, when the climate was most suitable.

In the film, Prithviraj interacts with goats a lot. Asked about the psychology of goats, Blessy said, “They are stubborn and individualistic. It was very difficult to get them to do something. It was after much cajoling they would behave in a certain manner.”

But the crew was ecstatic when they found a kid (baby goat) who was loving, obedient and followed commands. “We would feed it biscuits, which it liked a lot,” said Blessy. “The shooting went forward smoothly.”

Unfortunately, two days after the shoot, the goat suffered from severe stomach problems. The reason: it had consumed too many biscuits. Then it fell sick and passed away. “That was the saddest moment during the 150-day shoot spread over four years,” said Blessy. “It remains a heartache for me.”

(An edited version was published in The Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

Director Girish AD is basking in the tremendous success of his romantic comedy, ‘Premalu’

Photos: (From left): Naslen K. Gafoor, Girish AD, Girish's wife Chippy Viswan and Mamitha Baiju; Director Girish AD

By Shevlin Sebastian

On a recent Sunday morning, an elderly couple were waiting outside a hall at the Cinepolis in Centre Square Mall, Kochi at 9.25 a.m. The reason for them to go see a film so early. All the other shows were house full. Asked why they had come for a teenage romantic comedy, the man said, “We heard it was a good film.”

The movie ‘Premalu’ stars Naslen K. Gafoor and Mamitha Baiju in the lead roles. They play youngsters who land up in Hyderabad for different reasons and end up falling in love.

‘Premalu’ was released on February 9. Within three weeks, it has earned Rs 75 crore at the box office and is heading towards the Rs 100 crore mark. Disney Hotstar has picked up the OTT rights for an undisclosed amount.

Bhavana Studios, which produced the film, is owned by actor/director Dileesh Pothan, actor Fahadh Faasil and scriptwriter Shyam Pushkaran.

“One reason the film became a blockbuster hit was the humour in it,” says Dileesh. “This was accessible to people of all ages. Elderly people told me they felt as if they had become 25 years of age. It reminded them of their college days and the early struggles to settle into a career. So, it seems the entire audience had become the same age while watching the film. There was no generation gap. That was the magic of this film.”

At his home in Aluva, director Girish AD has a smile on his face. He is surprised by the widespread acceptance of ‘Premalu’ across all sections of society.

“Even though it is a rom-com, there is an innocence in the film, which seems to have appealed to all,” he says. “My films are simple and have a soul. I don’t pretend to be something I am not.”

This is his third hit. His 2019 film, ‘Thaneermathan Dinangal’, a romantic comedy, also did very well at the box office, earning Rs 52 crore worldwide at the box office. ‘Super Sharanya’ (2022), a coming-of-age comedy, earned Rs 23 crore.

Asked about the elements required for a film to be successful, Girish says, “More than 50 percent is the quality of the screenplay. It should be a good story. For a commercial film, the story should move forward all the time. The viewers cannot get bored at any moment. The other factors include excellent actors, direction and songs.”

Dileesh has high regard for Girish as a director. “He is updated about the vibes of the new generation,” says Dileesh. “Girish has the talent to spot the humour in every situation. And he knows how to execute the humorous scenes perfectly. Girish also handles people in a calm manner. They feel comfortable on the sets. As a result, they are able to give top-quality performances. And hits are the result.”

The hit-maker got interested in filming when, as a Class Nine student at the St Sebastian school at Chalakudy (58 kms from Kochi), he saw the Malayalam film, ‘Devadoothan’ (2000). This was a mystery/horror film that starred Mohanlal. “I began to pay attention to the work of directors,” says Girish. “I felt a desire within me to become one.”

After graduating in technology from the Mala Education Trust’s School of Engineering, he made three short films, ‘Yashpal’, ‘Vishuddha Ambrose’ and ‘Mookutthi’.

Girish won the Best Director Award in the Adoor short film festival 2017 for ‘Vishuddha Ambrose’. He also won the first prize for ‘Mookutthi’ in a competition held at the Kozhikode Medical College. The judge was cinematographer Jomon T John.

Jomon asked Girish whether he had any story that could become a script. Girish told him about ‘Thaneermathan Dinangal’. Thereafter, producer Shameer Mohammed got in touch with Girish and signed him on. And the rest is history.

At the moment Girish is taking a much-needed rest with his wife, Chippy Viswan, a preschool teacher, whom he married on June 23, 2019.

He had been working non-stop from ‘Super Sharanaya’, ‘Poovan’, ‘I am Kathalan’ and ‘Premalu.’ “I will take a rest, but I am sure the itch to return to filming will come up soon,” he says.

(A shorter edited version was published in the Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

Many thanks to The Hindu, Bengaluru for this review of 'The Stolen Necklace'

 

Walk This Way

Communications consultant and heritage enthusiast Mudar Patherya got eight pavements in the Lake Market area in Kolkata painted and transformed the neighbourhood 

By Shevlin Sebastian 

A few weeks ago, as Mudar Patherya woke up one morning at his home in Kolkata and stared at the ceiling, an idea popped into his head: why not paint pavements? 

For the past two years, the communications consultant and heritage enthusiast, along with two friends, Ratnabali Ghosh, a retired teacher at the Ballygunge Shiksha Sadan and Prasanta Sain, a professional artist had got alpanas — traditional motifs, patterns and symbols — painted anonymously in random houses, five-star hotels, and pavements in different parts of the city. 

“The idea of painting became embedded in my mind,” says Mudar.   

Mudar then came up with an idea of doing a ‘Walk of Fame’, similar to the Hollywood version. “Initially, the plan was to put the names at the centre of the pavements,” says Mudar. “But people told me that if somebody walks over a name like Rabindranath Tagore, it will create a huge controversy.”   

So Mudar decided to put the names on the side of the pavement, near the buildings. The names included, apart from Tagore, contemporary musicians like Suchitra Mitra, Debabrata Biswas, Shreya Ghoshal, Shyamal Mitra, Anjan Dutt, Rupam Islam, Susmit Bose, and Usha Uthup. 

As for the pavement design, Mudar says, “It is like a mosaic. Very fluid. But it looks visually elegant. We wanted to create a sense of wonder.” 

Mudar also got the hand pumps painted in a distinctive yellow. And the Calcutta Electric Supply and the MTNL transformer boxes were painted in the same colours of the pavements. “These two structures stood out,” says Mudar. “Some people told me that this is magically possible, not just in Kolkata but in urban India, as well.” 

Mudar had to get permission from Manisha Bose-Shaw (Trinamool Congress), the municipal councillor of ward 87. 

When Manisha listened to what Mudar had to say, she smiled. “No one has tried anything like this before,” she says. “I also had a teeny bit of apprehension. Would it work? But in the end, I extended my support to Mudar.” 

Two things worked in Mudar’s favour. Manisha had already heard about Mudar. 

“We are Facebook friends,” she says. “So, through his posts, I could see the work he had done in various places. I realised he was an out-of-the-box thinker.”  

Around eight pavements on Dr Sarat Banerjee Road, and Maharaja Nandakumar Road, in the Lake Market area, have been painted. 

After the work was complete, Manisha says, there was a sense of wonder among the residents. “People had never seen a painted pavement before,” she says. “They felt it was beautiful and crazy at the same time.” 

Manisha organised a music festival, with the support of local cafes like Art Cafe, Spoonful, Bakeandstean, Narumeg and Eva Brew, to celebrate the event. 

The cafe owners were ecstatic. The owner of Eva Brew Siddhant Singhania said, “Yes, it has made a big difference to the sales.” 

Asked whether he had got any sponsors for this, Mudar said there were eleven. And one of the sponsors was Miraj Shah, the Vice Chairman of the Bhawanipur Education Society College. “I have been sponsoring Mudar’s projects for the past eight years,” says Miraj. “The aim is to beautify the city. Mudar is our spearhead for this.”  

Asked why he chose this particular area, Mudar says, “This neighbourhood was gradually developing a cafe culture. So I hope that with these colourful pavements, more cafes and boutiques will come up. Residents who may think of selling their Art Deco two or three-storey houses to builders might think twice, since now, they would get a decent income from rents. The character of the neighbourhood will be protected. Essentially, this was a heritage preservation exercise.” 

Some of the other initiatives of Mudar include cleaning up the Santragachi Jheel (lake). He set up an NGO called Kolkata Gives, which mobilised nearly Rs 100 million in cash and kind during the pandemic. He cleaned up the Rabindra Sarobar, a lake/garden/park in South Kolkata, replanted 149 trees, set up water sprinklers, opened an open-air gallery and organised a ‘Live in Lakes’ musical event. Mudar also did the clean-up of Vivekananda Park and Lily Pool. 

Asked why he is one of the few educated Indians to have a social sensibility, Mudar says that the middle class has an inside-outside paradox. “That means, they spend lakhs, even crores of rupees to ensure that the inside of their homes look beautiful,” says Mudar. “But if you ask these people to give a Rs 100 donation to clean up the pavements, they will say no.” 

So who should we blame for this mindset? 

Mudar says the education, social and family structures are playing their roles. “The middle class has a me, my and mine attitude,” he says. “You have to redefine me and mine. You should have a personal and financial ownership of the city. Your definition of home has to change. It should include the city. You should not blame anybody for civic woes. Solve it yourself. You live in the city and the city should live inside you. Only then will society be transformed.”

(Published in The Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

Random conversations and convivial moods at the Mathrubhumi International Festival of Letters

Captions: Ajay Bisaria/Saba Naqvi (second from right) author Subhash Chandran/Translator AJ Thomas/Manohar Thomas (extreme right) with poet K Satchidanandan (centre) and actor/author Thampy Antony/Journalist Rahul Jayaram

By Shevlin Sebastian

At the author’s lounge at the Mathrubhumi International Festival of Letters at the Kanakakkunnu Palace at Thiruvananthapuram, the ever-smiling curator Sabin Iqbal is interacting with a host of guests. After a while, he sits down to take a breather. Suddenly, he hears a ping tone. When he clicks on the mail, a smile breaks out on his face.

It is good news. His Polish publisher has just informed him that the release of his novel, ‘The Cliffhangers’ will take place in March. Sabin will be the first contemporary author from Kerala to have his work translated into Polish.

Last year, a few Polish publishers came to attend the festival. They met Sabin. He presented them with their book. They liked it and decided to publish it in their language.

Meeting a career diplomat

At lunch, as authors sat around at several tables and chatted with each other, a man came and sat next to me. He was a tall and lean man. And he used the cutlery in a very delicate way, without making any noise. Perfect manners at the table. After a while, we started talking. He was a retired career diplomat. Ajay Bisaria was the High Commissioner to Pakistan in 2017. In August 2019, the Pakistan government expelled him because of the abrogation of Article 370, which changed the special status of Kashmir.

Ajay worked in the Prime Minister’s Office (PMO), under National Security Advisor Brajesh Mishra during the time of Atal Bihari Vajpayee. According to Wikipedia he attended more than 50 international summits with the Prime Minister as part of his delegation.

Ajay had just written a book called, ‘Anger Management: The Troubled Diplomatic Relationship between India and Pakistan’ (Aleph Publishers).

Sitting next to me was the well-known journalist Saba Naqvi. She had come to speak on her book, ‘Saffron Storm – From Vajpayee to Modi’’. I introduced Saba, whom I met at the festival for the first time, to Ajay.

He said, “Saba, you don’t recognise me. I used to work in the PMO during Vajpayee’s time.”

For a moment, Saba did not recall. Then a light flashed in her eyes and she said, “Oh, of course, of course, I remember you.”

Courage despite threats

Saba Naqvi is perhaps the first Muslim woman journalist to cover the BJP for the past 20 years. The former political editor of Outlook Magazine now writes for a host of newspapers and is a commentator on television. Owing to her forthright reporting, Saba has received a lot of threats and has been subjected to online bullying by right-wing followers. This has taken an emotional and psychological toll.

At the session at the festival, moderated by senior journalist B. Sreejan, Saba had to carefully choose the words she spoke, knowing any slip-up in meaning could cause an army of trolls to attack her. But despite this never-ending pressure, her answers were forthright and bold. And she provided an interesting insight. “You must know that Narendra Modi is having a fun time,” she said. “Posing for selfies, dressing well, standing on scenic beaches, and travelling everywhere. He is a 24/7 politician.”

At the bookstore, a couple of hours after her session, Saba heard the good news that all her books had been sold out.

Waiting for the muse

I went up to Subhash Chandran, one of Kerala’s preeminent writers, and said, “Sir, I have not read any of your works.”

Before Subhash could get offended, I said, “I don’t know how to read Malayalam as I grew up in Kolkata.”

Subhash smiled as I said, “Sir, when you write, do you depend on the unconscious?”

“Yes, absolutely,” said Subhash. “Creative inspiration always comes from the unconscious mind. I wait for it to happen. That is one reason my productivity is low, as compared to others.”

The multiple award-winning author has published around ten books so far.

Subhash said that being the editor of the weekly literary magazine ‘Azhchappathippu’, of the Mathrubhumi newspaper, takes a lot of his time.

He then spoke about P. Rajeev, the state minister for industries, law and coir. Rajeev moderated a discussion of Subhash’s book at the festival. Subhash expressed his admiration for Rajeev’s insightful knowledge of his literary works.

Escape from Libya

AJ Thomas is basking in the success of the well-received book he had translated into English titled, ‘The Greatest Malayalam Stories Ever Told’ (Aleph). But during a conversation, at the Kanakakunnu Palace, he spoke at length about the harried time he experienced in Libya, a few years ago.

At that time, he was teaching English at the Garyounis University (later Benghazi University). Thomas was on leave from the Sahitya Akademi, in the post of Editor, Indian Literature.

At the beginning of the revolution, against the ruler Colonel Muammar Gaddafi, in February 2011, Thomas was evacuated along with his colleagues from Benghazi port by ship to Alexandria. From there, he was flown to Delhi by the Indian Embassy. He resumed the editorship of Indian Literature.

On October 20, 2011, Gaddafi was shot dead. The country descended into chaos. However, an interim unity government was set up in January 2012. At the university’s insistence, Thomas returned on January 4, 2012. Unfortunately, the unity government collapsed in April 2013.

Ansal al Sharia, an extremist Islamist organisation unleashed jihad in the country, followed by ISIS. A few months later, they suddenly targeted foreign passport holders with Christian names. Sensing imminent danger, in mid-December, 2014, Thomas and a colleague, travelled 400 kilometres through backroads and escaped through an airport close to the border with Egypt and flew back to Delhi. Within a week, 33 Egyptian Coptic Christians were beheaded by ISIS. “It was a close shave for us,” he said. Altogether Thomas spent six years in Libya.

Thomas also spoke about a Kerala-based friend, and former colleague from his Sahitya Akademi days in Delhi, whose health had broken down. “I am going to meet him soon,” he said. “It will be very sad to see him like this. I have spent a lot of good moments with him.”

Thomas falls silent as he realises that no one can stop the passage of time and the damaging effect it can have on one’s health and mental equilibrium.

A US-based Malayali author

Manohar Thomas wears an eye-catching yellow shirt. He is a past president of the Literary Association of North America. This is an organisation that comprises writers of Malayali origin who have migrated to North America. Their aim is to promote Malayalam literature on a global scale. He is the founder of ‘Sargavedy’, an organisation for Malayalam language and literature in New York.

“The problem for us is that the second generation of Malayalis in America do not know how to read in Malayalam,” he says. “It is a big loss for our culture. But that is the price you pay for immigration.”

Manohar is a published author. But to earn a living, he sells wine in New York. To guarantee that he buys the best French, Australian, and Italian wines he has to taste it. To ensure that his tongue remains sensitive, he has had to eschew Indian food with its wide variety of spices. So, Manohar has bland food all the time. That’s the price he has to pay to have a successful business.

Wrong identification

Sipping a cup of tea was Rahul Jayaram, wearing a colourful Nepali Topi. Rahul is a teacher, freelance journalist and bibliophile. He held a copy of ‘City on Fire: A boyhood in Aligarh’. I only saw the book in Rahul’s hand, rushed towards him, shook his hand, as I kept staring at the cover, and said, “I have not read the book yet, but I read the reviews. They are all great. Congratulations.”

Rahul smiled and said, in a formal manner, “I am not Zeyad Masroor Khan. I am the moderator for the discussion. Zeyad will come soon.”

“Oh, oh,” I said, finally looking up at Rahul.

I had to burst out laughing. Rahul is a friend.

“That’s so funny,” I said.

It was Rahul’s turn to laugh.

Some pics from the Mathrubhumi international literary festival

 Pic 1: Chacko Simon is a lawyer based in Kottayam. He told me that he had a library of 800 books, out of which 50 are author-inscribed. I was glad to sign my book for him

Pic 2: Standing beneath my own head. Photo by Ratheesh Sundaram Pic 3: With authors Kunal Purohit and Shahina K Rafeeq

Many thanks to Mathrubhumi newspaper for this article

 

What happens after we die

Photos: Author Minakshi Dewan; the Chinvat Bridge

Author Minakshi Dewan’s book ‘The Final Farewell — Understanding the Last Rites and Rituals of India’s Major Faiths’ provides meaning and understanding.

By Shevlin Sebastian

Writer Minakshi Dewan was very close to her father, Vijay Dewan, an entrepreneur. He lived in Ambala Cantonment, in Haryana. But in 2019, because of liver sclerosis, Vijay passed away. His death came as a shock to Minakshi.

She lit the funeral pyre and immersed her father’s ashes in the Ganges at Haridwar. During this time, she conversed with the purohits and became fascinated by the rituals at the end of life. That’s when she got the idea of writing a book.

She began her research by visiting shamshans and kabristans in Delhi. Minakshi also went to the Harishchandra and Manikarnika ghats at Varanasi. She read articles, newspaper clips, books and watched films. She interviewed journalists, activists, funeral directors, academicians, and filmmakers, among many others.

The recently published book is called ‘The Final Farewell: Understanding the last rites and rituals of India’s Major Faiths’. Minakshi has gone deep into the last rites in Hinduism, Islam, Christianity, Zoroastrianism and Sikhism.

It is a valuable book because it gives followers of each religion an insight into the meanings behind their rituals, which they tend to do mechanically.

One also gets an idea of the rituals of other religions. The book creates empathy and understanding in the reader for people of other religions, especially at a time of grave polarisation all over the world.

So, for example, the washing of a Muslim man begins on the right side. The first wash is usually with plain water, the second with water and soap, and the final one is usually with water and camphor. The Islamic tradition is to wrap the corpse with three unstitched cloth pieces: an izar (wraparound), a qamis (shift) and a lifafa, which covers the entire body from head to feet.

Minakshi has also focused on Hindu and Sikh women performing the last rites. She spoke to Dr Manisha Shete, a Hindu priest, practising for the past fifteen years. Manisha said, “I pursued this work because of my interest in ancient scriptures. I am the first in my family to become a priest.” Manisha is associated with the Pune-based Jnana Prabodhini, an organisation which trains men and women across castes to perform rituals.

Minakshi has also described the state of cremation and burial spaces, the gender and caste discrimination in last rites, and professional mourners like rudaalis. An interesting chapter is about Varanasi. “Varanasi celebrates death,” writes Minakshi.

Each religion has its own beliefs about what happens after death. In Zoroastrianism, for example, the Parsis believe humans comprise gaetha (physical) and mainyu (spiritual). Humans have an immortal urvan (soul). The soul remains near the body for three days and nights before departing. On the fourth day, the sun's rays draw up the soul for judgement. It has to cross the Chinvat Bridge. The bridge becomes wider or narrower, depending on the life the person led.

‘The Final Farewell’ is a most remarkable and valuable addition to spiritual literature.

(Published in The Sunday Magazine, New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

Enlarging a dream fragment

By Shevlin Sebastian

When I awoke on a recent morning, I saw an image of me standing on a sidewalk and staring at a movie hall on the opposite side.

I expanded on the image later in the day.

This was what I wrote:

I am standing on a pavement. Opposite me, there is a huge billboard which is advertising a film. The movie hall is behind it. I stare at the board. People are walking past, left to right, right to left. Cars are also going past.

A man walks down the street. He wears a white suit and white shoes. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. He stops in front of me.

I say, “Who are you?” 

He turns to look at me. Slight stubble on his upper lip. 

“I am the hero of this film,” he says, pointing at the billboard. 

“And your name?” I ask. 

“Chris Jones,” he replies. 

“You came to see the audience's reaction?” I say. 

“Exactly,” he says. “Do you want to see it?”

“Sure, why not, if you are buying the ticket?” I say. 

Chris grins and says, “Sure, of course.” 

We cross the street. He buys the tickets at the counter. We enter the foyer and climb the steps to the first floor. 

As we stand outside the door of the hall, I say, “Is there time for a chat?” 

Chris looks at his watch. Then he nods and says, “About two minutes.” 

I ask about his life.

Chris is originally from Burbank, California. His father was a chef, his mother a teacher. They did not discourage him when he said he wanted to be an actor. 

“Just see that you have a talent for acting,” his father Eddie said. 

“And do you?” I say. 

Chris smiles. 

“Not major league,” he says. “So far, it’s second tier.” 

“Very honest,” I say, as I pat his arm in appreciation and add, “Why have you come into my dream?”

Chris narrows his eyes and says, “I didn’t know I am in a dream.”

“Yes, you are,” I say. “Mine.” 

Chris stares at me.

“I don’t know why I have come,” he says.  

“Maybe you represent an archetype,” I say. 

“What does that mean?” he says. 

“Never mind,” I say. “Let’s enjoy the movie.” 

When Chris sits, his knees almost hit the head of the person sitting in front of him. ‘Wow, long legs,’ I think. 

We watch silently. There is not much of a crowd. Or a crowd reaction. People remain quiet throughout. No claps or standing ovations. Occasionally, Chris looks around. Then he rubs his hand through his hair in slow motion. I know he is not feeling good. I see him look once or twice at the ceiling. 

When the movie gets over, we walk out silently. 

On the road, he turns to look at me and said, “So what do you think?”

I know I have to be diplomatic.

“It’s okay,” I said. 

He knows I have been polite. 

“Let’s have something,” he said.

We walk into a cafe.

He orders a café au lait and cookies. I do the same. 

We look at each other. 

“I am sorry,” I said. 

“Yeah, the film is not doing well,” he said. “They will yank it after the last show on Thursday.” 

I nod. 

“Hits and misses,” he said. “That’s what life is all about. You may have a hit by meeting the right woman who becomes your wife, but your film can be a flop.”

We laugh spontaneously. 

“Well said,” I reply. 

“Thank you,” he said, as he takes a sip of his coffee. I also sip from my cup. 

I reach out and shake his hand. 

“Look, it’s time for me to get up,” I said. “I have to bring this dream to an end. Morning chores await me. Buying milk, reading the newspaper, making breakfast.” 

He nods, “Okay, it was nice to have met you.” 

We shake hands.

I open my eyes and get out of bed.