ALIGARH: Reading The Fault in Our Stars, now that social media is abuzz with talks of the film adaptation of the book, maybe a tad difficult if you live in Aligarh. Despite the city being home to one of the country’s most prestigious educational institutions – Aligarh Muslim University – the absence of a good bookshops selling fiction, non-fiction or, for that matter, anything beyond prescribed reading material for students is quite a telling let-down.
“The city has somehow never really felt the need to have the kind of arrangement where you can go and buy fiction in a store that’s well-furnished with eclectic literary offerings,” says Shubhangini, a CAT aspirant. “Although there is not much of a choice when it comes to book shopping, it doesn’t mean people in Aligarh are not aware of the current scenario in the world of literature. Popular books can be procured through some of the stores by placing an order and paying a commission.”
There are nearly 100 bookshops functioning for decades in Aligarh, but they mostly cater to the madrassa-going students and sell Urdu literature. And almost all stores stock reading material that help in preparations for competitive examinations. This leaves the lover of fiction/non-fiction with little choice but to tap online sources or place an order at a bookshop, which may take anywhere between a week and 10 days (depending on availability) to deliver. The other option is to travel down to Delhi or the National Capital Region and go on a book shopping spree or, if one is a student, rely on AMU libraries to satiate the inner bibliophile.
Though education fairs are common in Aligarh, book fairs are few and far between. “It is a small city without much tourist inflow. So, there are not many stores that sell popular books. There are far more education fairs than book fairs here,” says Sandeep Choudhury, who recently organized an education fair in the city.
Students being on the look-out for better opportunities and job prospects have prompted even the oldest bookstore in the city – Malviya Pustakalaya – to stock books for competitive exams and recruitment tests. Malviya Pustakalaya, incidentally, has one of the most valuable collections of literature, religion, philosophy and Hindi novels.
“These were ordered, so we got them,” says Sanjeev Agarwal of Vimal Book Store, pointing to a stack of popular fiction and non-fiction reading material. It was only recently that 1 % of the shop’s stocks began comprising authors like Arundhati Roy and William Dalrymple. “Earlier, there used to be a store selling fiction but now it has shut down, probably because of dipping sales.”
However, what makes Aligarh unique to bookworms is its repository of Urdu literature. Home to a substantial number of madrassa and AMU students, the city’s stores have an enviable collection of fiction and non-fiction by Faiz, Firaq and Ghalib. “Urdu works are most popular as a lot of retired professors or students from madrassas or AMU reside here,” says Asad Faisal Farooqui, who frequents the Education BookHouse established in 1927.
“It is interesting to see modern English literature being translated into Urdu for them,” he says, adding, “Students have bought Urdu translations of books by Jaswant Singh, Irfan Habib and also religious texts, including translations of the Bhagvad Gita.”
However, the trend does not go beyond prescribed reading material or books talked about in popular media. As Ashok Kuckreja of Aligarh Law Books, says, “Students buy what their professors recommend, which may be pertinent to one’s course but may not help build a larger reading repertoire.”
The experienced bookseller rues never being asked for books by, say, legal humourist Marc Galanter or by the likes of AP Herbert. “Not even 1% of that genre is ordered here, I have tried so many times to bring to their notice the works of Edward Heward on Lord Denning, John Mortimer’s ‘The Devil’s Advocate’ and Krishna Swamy’s work on V R Krishna Iyer, but there is no interest,” Kuckreja says.
source: http://www.timesofindia.indiatimes.com / The Times of India / Home> City> Agra / by Eram Agha, TNN / September 22nd, 2014
Agha Shahid Ali’s submerged house in Srinagar’s Rajbagh. ( Source: Express photo by Shuaib Masoodi )
The Jhelum flowed through many of Kashmiri poet Agha Shahid Ali’s poems. “When I return, the colours won’t be so brilliant, the Jhelum’s waters so clean, so ultramarine. My love so overexposed”, he wrote. Shahid’s home, his wooden desk, a rocking chair, books and papers are now under Jhelum waters.
This hut of a house of two floors, lower than the nearby road, and nestled in a wild garden in Rajbagh had become the international address for Kashmir’s literary scene. Shahid, who brought into focus Kashmir’s tumult through his poems, grew up here. He later kept returning from the US where he taught at Amherst College till his death in 2001.
A piece of old architecture, this house was Shahid’s last memory in his home city. Its rooms and the hundreds of documents, photographs and books they contained were a reminder of the poet who introduced the ghazal form to English. Today all is submerged and probably destroyed. When Shahid’s father Agha Ashraf Ali was rescued from the house in a rush, nothing else could be saved.
While the deluge has ravaged Srinagar’s roads, buildings and homes, it has also taken away something more precious — invaluable parts of Kashmir’s history and culture. Flood waters have entered the government archives, cultural academy, the building housing Srinagar’s museum and several other libraries. The flood has also destroyed scores of private collections of texts, rare religious manuscripts, letters and other important connection to Kashmir’s past.
A mile from Shahid’s home, the Valley’s best known artist Masood Hussain said he could only save his latest work: seven paintings based on Shahid’s seven couplets that he had promised the poet before his death. “When the flood came, it submerged everything in my neighbourhood,’’ Hussain said. “My brother had two rubber boats but in those hours of crisis, I forgot everything and helped rescue some 40 people. Several houses around my home collapsed.”
A Kashmiri journalist had a 250-year-old copy of the Quran that had been passed from generations in his family. He could not take it out when the flood rushed into his house in Rajbagh. A resident of Tulsibagh had letters from 1890, documenting those times, preserved in his home. They are gone too.
Idrees Kanth, who is researching Kashmir’s social history for his PhD at Leiden University in Amsterdam, said the loss is irreparable. “Many people in Kashmir had private archives. The sudden onset of flood left them no chance to save the precious material, Kanth said. “It’s not just lives and property we have lost, we have lost a part of our history too.”
He said he was praying the government’s archives are safe. “There are 20 lakh files in the archives, which aren’t even indexed. We may never know what has been lost in these floods.”
Director of archives, Mohammad Shafi Zahid told The Indian Express, that the archives are safe. “The flood water has submerged the low lying building but not the one where our archives are housed,’’ he said. “The papers are all safe.”
The archives house old Kashmiri, Persian and Arabic manuscripts which are important for their religious, philosophical and literary value. The building also houses old land records, state subject documents, bureaucratic correspondence of J&K State since the Maharaja’s times among other papers. However, Saima Iqbal of Indian National Trust For Art and Cultural Heritage said she was not allowed into the archives to check.
source: http://www.indianexpress.com / The Indian Express / Home> India> India-Others / by Muzamil Jaleel / Srinagar – September 23rd, 2014
The cricketer, who whacks the ball around the stadium ruthlessly, is extremely gentle while dealing with animals. Pathan works with the NGO Gujarat Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals
The brutality with which he smacks a cricket ball makes Yusuf Pathan appear ruthless. There’s little or no expression on his face as he wields his willow. But under it all, there is a very soft spot. The one he reserves for animals.
Yusuf accepted our invitation to supper at Port Elizabeth, where India was playing a one-day international against South Africa. With Discovery Channel running in the background, he started talking about his favourite animal – the lion.
When the word ajeeb — perhaps not the most accurate one — was used to describe the king of beasts, he subjected us to a terse lecture. “How can you use the word ajeeb? Have you taken a close look at it? It’s truly a wonderful creation of Allah,” he thundered. Yusuf then went on to describe his encounter with a lion inside Johannesburg’s Lion’s Park.
“We were following this really magnificent creature. Suddenly, it turned and pounced on the car, stood on the jeep’s bonnet and stared at us through the windscreen. Its face with the full mane was awesome.
As it opened its mouth and roared, I could only think of the prey it must have devoured. The lion stood on the vehicle for three minutes and those three minutes were like three hours for us.” The calm Yusuf brings to the crease and the instinct that takes over him when he’s attacking bowlers are perhaps traits he shares in common with the animal he so loves.
This incident was an insight into the man’s love for his environment. He said he inherited his passion from an uncle. “My late maamu, Azizul Islam, was really fond of wildlife. Whenever possible, I would tag along with him on his excursions into forests.
That is how I got hooked,” he says. Initially, Yusuf says, his abba didn’t approve of him bringing animals home. But gradually, he too started loving them. “Now, when I’m not around, he takes care of them.”
The life of an Indian cricketer alternates between various stadiums around the world and the plush environs of multi-starrer hotels.
The first thing Yusuf does when he gets into his hotel room is surf for Animal Planet, which needless to say, is his favourite channel. “I don’t like watching movies. Animal Planet or Discovery is all I want in my spare time,” he says.
Whenever he tours abroad he shops for items that come in handy for a night out in the jungle. “I’ve spent nights out in deep forests and it is the most wonderful of experiences. I usually carry three to four pairs of clothes, a small tent and a torch.
To be honest, I’ve managed to spot only a few wild cats in Gujarat till now. The moment I find time, I will be off to Ranthambore or Gir to see the big cats,” he says.
But his love for animals is not confined to watching wildlife. Snehal Bhatt Bhavsar, who works with the Gujarat Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (GSPCA), is full of tales of the work Yusuf does with her NGO. She says that even before Yusuf became a household name, he would often volunteer for GSPCA and take great interest in rescuing animals, even taking them home to nurse them back to health.
“He has answered our calls in the middle of night and driven around with us to rescue abused animals. It doesn’t matter if it’s a dog, a chicken, a goat, a horse, a pigeon or a baby owl. He’s always there.
He takes the animals to his farm house outside Baroda, treats them and then releases them. He currently has a couple of horses there and really loves them although he has been kicked hard by one of them once,” she says.
Bhavsar says that when chickens were being culled mercilessly during the bird flu, Yusuf was so disturbed that he would plead with people to stop the killing. “When I visited his old house, there was an open air chicken shop on the same lane.
I couldn’t stand the ghastly sight. I pointed out to Yusuf that this was happening right outside his house even though he cared so much for animals. The next time I went there, the shop had disappeared,” Bhavsar adds.
Yusuf says, “I love all animals. Like us, Allah has given them life. What I really like about them is their wafaadari (loyalty). If you give them love, despite their inability to speak, they reciprocate in their own ways. It is so touching and tells you about the greatness of God and how he has balanced things so wonderfully in this world. It’s only we humans who don’t understand.”
source: http://www.punemirror.in / Pune Mirror / Home> Others> Sunday Read / by Ehtesham Hasan / February 06th, 2011
Producer Naved Jafri on meeting heavyweight champion Muhammad Ali
This picture was taken in 1981. I was 13 years old and accompanied dad on a trip to Abu Dhabi. The Sheikh had organised a fundraiser in order to build mosques in the area. The chief guest for the night was former American professional boxer Muhammad Ali, whom I was excited to meet.
Bollywood celebrities like Rishi Kapoor and Asha Sachdev were there to attend the event as well. For entertainment’s sake, my father and Ali had a friendly match. It was hilarious to see my dad and the heavyweight boxing champion, who stood at 6 ft 3 in, in the same ring.
For comic effect, dad even scampered around as Ali pretended to pound him. The crowd seemed to love it and everyone was cheering. After the fundraiser, which was a great success, a bunch of us went out for dinner with Ali. It was an elaborate dinner in a five star hotel. But one thing that struck me about that night was Ali’s sharp sense of humour.
When saying our goodbyes, he shook my hand. It was an impressive handshake, especially since his hand was three times the size of my little fist.
source: http://www.punemirror.in / Pune Mirror / Home> Others> Leisure / by Yolande D’Mello / July 20th, 2014
still from Main Aur Charles (top); Charles Sobhraj (Left) & Salim Asgarally (Inset)
BACKSTAGE PASS
FILM:Main Aur Charles
Fashion designer Salim Asgarally doesn’t normally agree to do costumes for films, but transforming Bollywood actor Randeep Hooda into Charles Sobhraj, the Bikini Killer of the 1970s, was an irresistible lure. Charles, who was convicted and jailed for 12 murders between 1976 and 1997, and is currently serving a sentence of life imprisonment in Nepal, was a dapper dresser.
“He is an intriguing character whose journey spans different eras. I was ready for the challenge that Prawaal Raman’s film, Main Aur Charles, offered,” explains Salim. Three months of intensive research yielded several different looks to experiment with.
Charles moves from Bangkok to Delhi and on to Mumbai and Goa with a tenure in the Tihar jail in between. Salim promises a new look for the con man in every city.
“In Bangkok, he’s urbane in trench coats, which make way for suits and blazers in subdued checks teamed with’70s style ties, his trademark beret and designer glasses when he’s trying to pass himself off as a moneyed gentleman in Delhi,” explains the stylist. Salim points out that even when he was jailed, till he was convicted, Charles was allowed to throw Christmas parties, give interviews to the international press and wear his own clothes.
“So, among the prison uniforms was this intelligent, widely travelled, conman with a suave front. The continuity had to be retained even when he fled to Mumbai after a daring jail break. But once in Goa, he turns into a carefree hippie in swimming trunks and shorts,” says Salam, who wanted the clothes to become an aid in storytelling while making Randeep look good on screen.
Usually Hindi films don’t bother with authentic depiction of period styles or the colour palette, but for Salim they were the basic parameters. When designing for Charles, he stuck to muted hues like sky blues, coffee browns and olive green.
And to ensure that everything was in sync, he ordered vintage frames and borrowed costumes from Nepal’s royalty. The ‘Main’ in the title is Amod Kant, the investigating officer on the case, whose observations the film is based on.
Adil Hussain, who plays the character, is mostly seen in his cop’s uniform, but when with the family, he’s a typical middle-class civilian in trousers and bush shirts, a distinct contrast to the flashy Charles.
There are other characters too, like Richard Thomas, the British hitchhiker Charles meets, whom Salim dressed up in casual denims, and Mira, the Delhi law student, who Richa Chadha brings to life on screen. Mira is togged up in Indo- Western wear and junk jewellery from the Janpath market. Smiles Salim, “Main Aur Charles wasn’t an easy film, but it was a satisfying project.”
source: http://www.punemirror.in / Pune Mirror / Home> Others> Leisure / by Roshmila Bhattacharya / July 06th, 2014
Mir Osman Ali Khan receives Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri at Begumpet airport. Responding to Shastri’s appeal, the Nizam donated 5000 kg of gold to the National Defence Fund
OF POWER AND POISON
British Residents in Hyderabad spoke of the mutual antipathy that apparently existed between the Nizam’s eldest wife Dulhan Pasha and her sons Prince Azam Jah and Prince Moazzam Jah.
The mother of the two Sahebzadas was keen to marry them to her nieces, described by the Resident, Lt. Col. T.H. Keyes, as “two half-starved little Hyderabadi girls”. She had even been involved in a public slanging match with the Nizam on the issue of her sons’ marriage, and was supposed by British officials to be not fond of her sons.
To illustrate the discord between the mother and sons, Keyes recalled what Prince Moazzam Jah used to reveal to his guests. The younger Sahebzada claimed that his mother wanted to become the regent on the Nizam’s death. “When someone takes the cue and asks how she could be regent when his brother and he are of age, he replies: ‘We won’t be here. Mother is always experimenting with poisons, and there are no cats left in King Kothi’.”
…The rumours of poisoning in 1932 also led to revival of allegations that Sir Salar Jung I had been poisoned by the Nizam’s zenana as he had been insisting on Mahbub Ali Pasha being sent to Europe for education.
TONNES OF GOLD FOR WAR EFFORT
Mir Osman Ali Khan, Nizam VII, may have delayed his decision on merging Hyderabad State with the Indian Union after Britain left the country in August 1947, but he created a record when he responded to the call of Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri in 1965. The PM visited Hyderabad and requested the Nizam to contribute generously to the National Defence Fund, set up in the wake of the Indo-Chinese skirmish. Without a second thought, Mir Osman Ali announced that he would contribute five tonnes of gold to augment the war fund. In monetary terms, the Nizam’s contribution was about Rs 75 lakh, or about three-fourth of the annual Privy Purse he received from the Centre. In terms of today’s gold price in the international market, this donation translates to a whopping Rs 1,500 crore.
The Nizam’s donation of 5,000 kg of gold to the National Defence Fund in 1965 was the biggest ever contribution by any individual or organisation in India and remains unsurpassed till today.
However, known for his wit and frugality, Mir Osman Ali Khan did not hesitate to seek the return of the empty iron boxes once the gold coins and bars were offloaded in Delhi. “I am donating the gold and not the iron boxes. Do not forget to return them,” the Nizam told the officials even as his son-in-law and confidant Ali Pasha carried trays of gold coins from the Nazri Bagh Palace. The empty boxes were duly returned.
ALBERT ABID AND THE SILK SOCKS
Hyderabad’s history is full of fables about foreigners who gave Hyderabad a new meaning and purpose. Albert Abid Evans, a Jew from Armenia, gave Hyderabadis their first department store and a new name to an otherwise abandoned locality.
Abid’s, one of the busiest business centres of Hyderabad, owes its name to Albert Abid, who set up a shop that served the needs of Hyderabadis from needle to grains and stationery to clothes.
…As a valet of the Nizam, Abid looked after Mir Mahbub Ali Khan’s wardrobe, the biggest of its kind in the world. It is rumoured that Nizam VI did not like to repeat his silk socks and the enterprising Abid would put the used socks back in the packet they came in and recycle them while his trusting master kept paying for new socks! If rumours are to be believed Abid also helped himself to the rings from his ruler’s fingers when his ruler was in a stupor and promptly thanked the Nizam very profusely the next morning for gifting him the jewellery.
AN UNHAPPY PRINCESS
Niloufer Khanum Sultana, who was called the world’s most beautiful woman, was pained by the fact that she was unable to produce an heir and felt that she had failed in her duty as a princess. It was especially upsetting for her that her cousin Princess Durru Shehvar had given birth to two lovely boys, Prince Mukarram Jah and Prince Muffakham Jah.
On a particular occasion, when Princess Niloufer was in England in response to her mother’s distress call about her financial and social health, Prince Moazzam Jah decided to let everyone know that it was not he who was responsible for their childless marriage. He brought a lady of doubtful repute into his home, and was apparently able to demonstrate his virility. Princess Niloufer returned from England to learn of this treachery and never shared a room with her husband again.
Her husband’s betrayal was not the only fact that pained her. She also returned to find that her personal maid, of whom she was very fond, had died in childbirth. This moved her to open a hospital for children and women. The Niloufer Hospital is still a sought-after medical institution today.
This gesture of the childless princess earned her a place in the hearts of Hyderabadis.
BORN TO RULE
Prince Mukarram Jah had the best of education — Doon, Harrow, Cambridge and LSE. He also trained at the Sandhurst Military Academy in England. …During a visit to Hyderabad, his first wife Princess Esra said he was a bright young man when she married him but was overwhelmed by the fast-paced political developments at home.
In 1969, the Indira Gandhi government decided to discontinue the annual purse to descendants of former rulers of princely states, who numbered around 600. The land bank vanished with the Land Ceiling Act. Mukarram found himself at a complete loss when he lost his privy purse and was compelled to sell off his assets. He would dispose invaluable jewellery to meet his immediate needs without verifying the value of the gems he offered for sale. Not surprisingly, he was taken for a ride by everyone, while the list of those dependent on him kept expanding. This list had grown to include the legion of relatives (14,792), servants (14,000), grandfather’s concubines (42) and children (hundreds of them).
Despairing of the circumstances he found himself in after the demise of his grandfather, this last true blue Nizam protested, “I was taught to be a soldier, not an administrator.”
Given the title of the eighth Nizam and brought up as an imperial prince of the Ottoman Empire, he was not wrong when he once confessed, “I was born to rule. That was the only thing I was prepared for.” Some believe it was the burden of having to deal with so many trusts and their beneficiaries that caused Mukarram Jah to leave for Australia.
3,000 WIVES?
In June 1936, the India Office received a letter from one Irene Cowen from Sheffield, asking how many wives the Nizam had and how many children. “A Hyderabadi had given a lecture on the Nizam’s government and in that had mentioned that the Nizam had over 3,000 wives, but he did not know the exact number, and had described him as having ‘a good many children’,” she wrote. …The Foreign Office sent Miss Cowen this reply: “The statement made by your lecturer is, on (the) face of it, incredible. Nor is any record of the kind suggested maintained in this office.”
The Nizam, however, did have over 100 women in his zenana and was even accused of kidnapping some. As for his progeny, it is claimed that Osman Ali Pasha sired over 147 children. A more modest estimate puts this figure at 28 daughters and 44 sons. However, like most stories about the Nizam, this claim is often exaggerated.
According to his daughter Basheerunissa Begum, it was impossible even for the family to keep track of everyone in the palace as each wife of the Nizam and her children had separate living quarters within the palace and had numbered badges to help the palace guards keep track of their security and identity.
source: http://www.deccanchronicle.com / Deccan Chronicle / Home> Lifestyle> Offbeat / DC Correspondent / June 01st, 2014
Conversations carried out in fleeting moments of phone connectivity have a timbre their very own. More so if they take place against a backdrop such as the recent inundation of Srinagar by a swollen Jhelum River. But if the person conversing from the other end happens to be the Srinagar-based artist Masood Hussain, renowned for the luminosity of his culturally rooted works, then the conversation is moulded by unfailing grace under pressure so typical of the gentle 61 year old and so familiar to anyone acquainted with him.
So, what starts as a flurry of phone calls to ascertain the whereabouts of Masood saheb and his family in flood-ravaged Srinagar eventually turns into a ‘serialised’ conversation. Always shy of drawing attention to himself, the artist initially speaks of the year-long work of seven paintings that he had completed barely two weeks before the flood. The paintings are based on seven unpublished couplets that were given to him by the iconic poet Agha Shahid Ali during his Srinagar visit 15 years ago.
Shortly after, Shahid returned to the US where he later succumbed to cancer. Masood vividly remembers the day Shahid handed him a couple of pages saying, “I want you to paint on the theme of these couplets whenever you have the time.” The couplets, on the seasons of Kashmir, resonate with layered meanings, says Masood who quotes their titles: ‘When It is Early Spring,’ ‘The Elements Conspire,’ ‘Autumn Refrain in Kashmir,’ ‘Early Winter,’ ‘Deep January,’ ‘At the Gates of Paradise,’ and ‘The Blossoms Return.’ He mentions Shahid’s couplet, ‘The Elements Conspire,’ in particular: They conspire so that someone, on the shores, awaits the vendor of flowers/And the other side of the earth awaits Kashmir’s sun, its message that water and fire are at peace.
The artist, whose tactile works evoke Kashmir with an intensity that matches the poet’s oeuvre, regards these large-format acrylic and oil paintings among his finest works. “So, on August 29, when I left for Tanmarg, 40 km from Srinagar, to attend a national camp for artists, I was in a lighter frame of mind than I had been for several months.”
However, he returned from the artist’s camp a day earlier, on September 3: “It just did not stop raining and I was anxious because Jawahar Nagar, where I stay, is situated between a flood channel and the Jhelum,” he explains. “In the next few days every time my wife and I looked out of the window, the Jhelum’s water level seemed to have risen, but no one knew what was happening or what to do. Nothing in our past experience had prepared us for what was coming,” says Masood.
The next thing that Masood remembers is the Jhelum River, a familiar enough presence in his canvases, turning unfamiliar, reducing lives and homes to flotsam, erasing a lifetime of landmarks and all vestiges of administration; moreover, reducing a 21st- century existence of connectivity to an enervating isolation in a state already marked by constantly high levels of anxiety.
By 1 am on September 7, nearby areas such as Lal Mandi were surrounded by water. Fearing that Jawahar Nagar would be next, at 2 am Masood and his wife drove their daughters to his sister’s house in Shalimar “which is on somewhat higher ground.” They returned another way to avoid flooded areas but when they got off at Zero Bridge to walk the distance to Jawahar Nagar they found a familiar landmark, the popular restaurant Hat Trick, standing like a forlorn island in a watery expanse. After wading through knee-deep water for 100 metres, Masood and his wife reached their house where his younger brother, Nasir, and sister-in-law were waiting for them.
The first thing that Masood did was to rush to his first floor studio, hoist the new paintings on his shoulder, each a seven-foot- long roll of canvas, and trudge to the attic on the second floor. “I wondered if they would remain safe,” he admits.
The pictures Masood took on his phone gave him a precise timeline of events. “On Sept 7, 11.34 am our ground floor was submerged and the compound wall of our neighbour Mr. AK Kaul, a famous dentist, came crashing down,” he recalls. Between 1 pm and 1.15 pm, two neighbouring houses sank to the ground. Since Masood’s house, too, was an old construction like those buildings and the water had reached the first floor, at about 1.30 pm he decided to move out. The floodwater was 18 to 20 feet high. “Luckily my brother had two inflatable boats he keeps for fishing purposes with a seating capacity of one and two people.”
They rowed their wives over to a four-storeyed house of recent vintage about 200 metres away that was owned by businessman Haji Bashir Ahmed, “a stranger who put his home at our disposal with rare generosity,” remembers Masood. Then the brothers made rounds of the neighbourhood. They first rescued the Kauls whose heads were barely above water, then an aged Sikh couple and an ex-DG Police, Peer Hassan Shah in his 80s. In an even tone Masood recounts a moment of panic when one of the air chambers in the boat developed a puncture as he was ferrying the old and ailing Mrs. Qureishi but “somehow I managed.”
Those who could wade through the water and climb the staircase to Haji Bashir’s house did so. Masood ferried the others to another terrace with an external staircase 45 metres away, also belonging to the businessman. “Old Mrs. Qureishi was in a bad way, but it was the ex-DG’s guards who were whimpering because they could not swim,” recalls Masood.
It took them four hours to shepherd about 40 people to the two terraces by which time the light had started fading, says Masood. One boat was completely punctured; the other one had only one functioning air chamber. While Haji Bashir’s terrace, including Masood’s family, had access to the amenities of a running establishment such as food, water and blankets, Masood and 16 others on the smaller terrace had nothing whatsoever. A sense of shock, the clammy air and lack of blankets made the night of September 7 seem unduly long to them. “We gathered some wood lying around. Mr. Kaul’s daughter- in-law had a matchbox with which we lit a fire. There was no one to see that Pandits, Sikhs and Muslims faced the creeping cold together in a huddle of humanity.”
Next day, the artist fashioned a ropeway with steel wire between the two terraces. Soon baskets bearing food items, blankets and water were sent from the main terrace to the smaller terrace. Later, Masood risked going in the big boat to the main house. On September 9, after two nights and two days on the terrace, the artist and others were airlifted by an Indian Air Force helicopter to a camp near the airport where they stayed overnight. Masood proudly relates that his brother stayed back to rescue more people, “rowing as far as 300 metres to find people. He is 10 years younger than me and has more energy, hai na!”
A painting by Masood Hussain.
Since September 10 Masood and his wife have shuttled between the homes of friends and relatives. Over fractured conversations, he patiently sketches an unnerving topography of displacement: “Two days in Wanbal, 12 kilometres from Jawahar Nagar, then in Nawpora, which is closer to Jawahar Nagar… His itinerant phase is inked in my diary as a series of numbers: ‘Masood Hussain, Masood relative one, two, Masood new…. Every conversation is about a ceaseless exploration of new routes — by car, motorcycle, boat or raft — to reach loved ones or make at least one trip to the submerged home that had been left wide open in the rush to safety. “There are roving bands of thieves,” explains Masood saheb.
September 15, 11 am: Masood mentions that there has been no contact with his daughters for a week. Moreover, he does not know if his precious series of seven is intact. “I gave my word to Shahid 15 years ago; we were co-travellers,” he says. The artist, however, is struck by a curious coincidence. “Shahid’s couplet, ‘The Elements Conspire,’ is about the earth awaiting the message that water and fire are at peace. These elements have marked my life too: once I lost everything when my studio was gutted in a fire during the militancy period; this time I wonder whether the floodwater will spare me.”
September 15, 10 pm: There is a call from Masood: “I made it to Jawahar Nagar today. From Nawpora I reached Lal Mandi where it took me four hours to design a raft that would not sink; there is still no administration in sight. We made a raft out of stray wooden planks. Underneath it we added a layer of thermocol taken from empty LCD TV cartons, and empty water bottles, tying everything up with a ragged cloth banner. It worked and I reached home. The seven paintings are safe. Tomorrow I shall go to meet my daughters.” The phone connection breaks but for once there is no irritation, only a feeling of exultation.
At 8.30 am on September 16, there is a brief text message from Masood completing the broken thread of previous night’s call: Lost everything except the seven paintings.
source: http://www.m.firstpost.com / FirstPost. / Home / by Chitra Padmanabhan / September 21st, 2014
The wall of the Azad Hind Dhaba in Kolkata adorned with M.F. Husain’s Gaja Gamini. Photo: SUSHANTA PATRONOBISH
The now-famous painting, titled Gaja Gamini (one with a walk like an elephant), depicts a dancing woman, in a bright red background, while a white elephant looks on with its trunk held aloft
The memory of seeing M.F. Husain colouring one of his sketches back in 1999 is still fresh in the mind of Madan Sharma, one of the owners of Azad Hind Dhaba, a popular eatery in south Kolkata.
One fine afternoon years back, Mr. Husain walked into the dhaba, which he frequented during his visits here, and all of a sudden started adding colour to the black and white sketch on the wall that he had drawn three years before.
“The experience made me speechless,” Mr. Sharma said, on the eve of the 99th birth anniversary of the iconic painter.
The now-famous painting, titled Gaja Gamini (one with a walk like an elephant), depicts a dancing woman, in a bright red background, while a white elephant looks on with its trunk held aloft. Mr. Husain arranged a private show of his film Gaja Gamini at Azad Hind in 1999.
Sitting at the cash counter with the painting behind him, Mr. Sharma fondly recalled his memories of the famous artist. He remembers Mr. Husain as a “moody and humble person” who would come to the restaurant and sit quietly in one corner sipping his favourite “kadak chai [strong tea].”
“He did not talk much. But sometimes told me what kind of food he wants,” Mr. Sharma said. He was initially apprehensive of talking to an artist of Mr. Husain’s calibre, but eventually they became friends. “Mr. Husain could mingle with adults and children with equal ease. He was totally devoid of arrogance.” Whenever schoolchildren spotted him at the eatery, they flocked to him and asked for autographs. The world-famous painter complied with their demands with a smile and even drew them impromptu sketches.
When asked about the controversy that erupted in 2006 over Mr. Husain’s depiction of Hindu gods and goddesses, Mr. Sharma said the thought of removing the painting never entered his mind. “Nobody asked me to remove the painting even when the controversy erupted.”
Mr. Husain eventually had to leave the country under pressure from Hindu nationalist forces. He passed away in London in August 2011.
Meanwhile, the dancing woman with an elephant walk lives on happily on the central wall of Azad Hind Dhaba, in the company of numerous Hindu gods and goddesses.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Features> Friday Review> Art / by Soumya Das / Kolkata – September 17th, 2014
Book: The Substance and the Shadow: An Autobiography Author: Dilip Kumar Publisher: Hay House Pages: 450 Price: Rs 699
In 1998, soon after he had received the Nishan-e-Imtiaz award from Pakistan, I managed to see Dilip Kumar in person for the first time.
There were demonstrations outside his house by the Shiv Sena, which was protesting the award. He was the soul of charm. I had gone to propose a book about his films. He was not ready to commit but he did talk about his early life in Peshawar, coming to Bombay, his sojourn away from his family to make a living in Pune, where he succeeded in amassing a small fortune of Rs 5,000 by saving his profits.
All that is recorded in this book, besides much more.
At the time, no one could imagine that the man, so open in private conversation about himself but so reticent in public, would ever write his autobiography. But now we have the authentic thing, and it is a treasure trove. It is Dilip Kumar’s voice, faithfully recorded by Udayatara Nayar, who has done a great job.
The first few chapters tell us of his childhood in Peshawar. He was a lonely child and fell back then, as ever since, on his inner resources. The large joint family with his grandmother, parents and uncles is depicted well in the book as is Peshawar of the 1920s and 1930s. Soon after, the family moved to Bombay.
Dilip Kumar tells us about his school and college days, his fondness for football and how his friend Raj Kapoor told him he could make it in films, as he (Kapoor) was going to. But Dilip Kumar showed no aptitude for acting. Chance took him to Bombay Talkies and Devika Rani. The rest is history. He was helped along by Ashok Kumar and Shashadhar Mukherjee, who were pillars of Bombay Talkies.
There is a lot here about how Dilip Kumar learnt to act. Nitin Bose tells him early on in his career that acting in films is about emoting, often without dialogue. He tells us he never followed “method” acting. But for each part, he went deep into the persona of the character he was playing, and tried to become that person.
Dilip Kumar has played urban and rural roles, tragedies and comedies. He also grew as an actor from role to role. Take three films in which he plays a villager : Mela (1948), Naya Daur (1957) and Ganga Jamuna (1961) and you see the depth and range of emotions growing, until the death scene in Ganga Jamuna, one of the best in Hindi cinema.
The tragic roles in his early career drove him to depression. He decided to consult a Harley Street specialist and was advised to switch to sunnier roles. So he took on positive roles such as Azaad (1955). He still had to do Devdas (1955) for Bimal Roy which has the classic tragic hero.
The autobiography also tells us about Saira Banu, a determined young woman, who wanted to marry him and succeeded. Saira Banu has been a key to his longevity. If he is still with us (and long may he be so) while his contemporaries have gone, it is thanks to the care and attention he has received from Saira Banu. There are many stars, but there is only one actor — Dilip Kumar.
Meghnad Desai is an MP, House of Lords
source: http://www.indianexpress.com / The Indian Express / Home> LifeStyle> Books> Book Review / by Meghnad Desai / August 23rd, 2014
