African bond that was !
Humra Quraishi
With news reports gaining
ground of Africans getting
brutally attacked in and
around the capital city, New Delhi, I
wonder what explanations will the
government give the South Africa
President, Cyril Ramaphosa, when he
comes here in January 2019, as the
chief guest for the Republic Day
celebrations.
Look how hate and violence have
overtaken our lives. There was a time
when we bonded not just with each
other but reached out rather too
emotionally to the people of Africa.
There was that blissful period in
our very recent history where
poets of the likes Ali Sardar Jafri
and Sahir Ludhianvi wrote verse
after verse in solidarity with the
Africans.
These lines of Ali Sardar Jafri
written in 1960s - " This African ,
my brother /Picks flowers, in
forest after forest/ My brother
,whose feet are red /Red as
roses...”
Also these lines of Sahir
Ludhianvi written when Patrice
Lumumba, the first Prime Minister
of Congo and also a "staunch anti
- imperialist, " was deposed from
office and then murdered :
"Tyranny has no caste, no
community, no status nor
dignity/Tyranny is simply tyranny,
from its beginning to its end /Blood
however is blood, it becomes a
hundred things /Shapes that
cannot be obliterated /Flames that
can never be extinguished /Chants
that can never be suppressed."
A legendary writer
Mulk Raj Anand
Mulk Raj Anand would have turned
113 this December 12. When one
thinks of Mulk it’s not just the books
he has written or his offbeat views but
also the way he had done up his
home in New Delhi. To be precise
one of his homes, for he had a place
on Mumbai’s Cuffe Parade.
I had visited and interviewed him
several times at his New Delhi
situated home ‘Lokayata ‘. It stood out
at the very start of the Hauz Khas
Village, very close to the Deer Park.
There was something very different
about the place. Not in terms of
architecture or some fancy layout. On
the contrary, there were just bare
basics to the home and yet it had an
air of being different.
And its with much pride, Mulk
would detail that he had done up the
place with just about the minimum
expenditure - “I bought these
moorahs from the village and also
some of these durries and chiks … and
a local carpenter has done these
wooden shelves and I had these
painted in bright red, because red
brings in cheer to the atmosphere …”
He’d always emphasized the
significance of colours, also greenery
and plants growing along the gates
and backyard of his home.
In fact, the last time I had
interviewed him was in the autumn of
1999. I recall it was during the
month of November, and though he
was nearing 95 years, he looked
much younger and he had kept
calling himself “ young man”. And this
“young man” had undertaken a long
road journey along with Dolly Sahiar,
from Chandigarh to Amritsar and from there to New Delhi. And that too in a
Gypsy yet he’d looked rather relaxed. It
was a long winding interview and he
had been at his blatant best.
When I had asked him to comment
on the social decay spreading out he
had said,
“At times I question myself
whether we are the same people
who created the Ellora Caves in the
second century. See, what’s become
of us. Today we seem to have no
time to read or even think, because
we are busy watching bosomy
heroines on the idiot box , selling
our own daughters through those
massive matrimonial
advertisements as though selling
cattle…And look at our
bureaucrats! Wonder how do they
administer us when most can’t even
drive their own vehicles! And look at
what our men are wearing - not
cottons and khadi and none of the
kurta pyjamas which is suitable
for our climatic conditions but
tight fitting synthetic trousers.”
Mulk had added,“I’ve always been
provoked by all that is happening around me. My novels are my
reactions to a personal loss or to all
that is happening around me …today
there is much violence and hatred
everywhere …the rise of
fundamentalism is also alarming …
the only answer to the growing
intolerance is going back to Mahatma
Gandhi’s teachings.All these years we
have ignored his teachings and that’s
why problems are erupting all around
us.” Perhaps, few of us would know that
Mulk had spent some time living in
the Sabarmati Ashram …he’d lived
there till the day he had violated one
of the ashram rules and was asked by
Mahatma Gandhi to leave the
ashram-
“I had just recovered from my first
nervous breakdown, which I had
suffered in the UK, when I had
travelled back to India and went to
meet Gandhiji at the Sabarmati
Ashram, and requested him if I could
stay there. After much thought he did
finally allow me to stay there but only
after I had agreed on three basic
issues. In fact,I had taken three vows
- to clean toilets, never to drink alcohol
and never to look at women with
desire …
In the beginning it went off okay
but, then, somebody had told him that
I was flirting with the typist also
staying in the ashram. She was an
American divorcee and staying there
with her young son and though there
was just no truth is that allegation I
had to leave the ashram …But even
that short stay in the ashram and my
interactions with Mahatma Gandhi left
an impact on not just my lifestyle
but on my perceptions and on my
very bonding with the masses. He had
asked me to tour the country and
interact with the villagers and see the
realities for myself.”
Each time I had interviewed Mulk
what came across rather too strongly
is the fact that for him writing was a
form of therapy, to lessen the
emotional pain and turmoil.
“Writing is a therapy for me …to this
day I must write every day. In fact ,
during 1927 when I had suffered the
first nervous breakdown my meeting
with Sigmund Freud in Vienna and
five sittings with him helped to a
considerable extent ….But, later, the
subsequent two nervous breakdowns
were cured only through writings.
I wrote a novel each time to
recover my fragile nerves …Had
written the novel - Across The Black
Waters - when my friend, activist
Gertrude Mitchell, was killed by the
Nazis in 1936 …
In my personal life I have loved
several women and was left shattered
when they died .In fact, each nervous
breakdown took off with that loss. The
first breakdown came with the news
of the first woman I ‘d fell in love with
– Irene, an Irish involved with the Irish
national movement, was killed in
1927 …and two more nervous
breakdowns followed...
I’ve suffered not just in
relationships but also on the marriage
front .My first marriage with Kathleen
Van Gelder failed .The second
marriage to Anel D’ Silva couldn’t
really take off because last minute she
changed her mind .I had then married
dancer Shireen Vajifdar.”
Mulk wrote beyond his mid -
nineties, till he fell ill. What had
compounded his deteriorating health
was the sudden death of his
companion – the well -known Mumbai
based illustrator, Dolly Sahiar, who
had died on board whilst traveling
from the US to Mumbai . He
couldn’t cope with that loss, passed
away in 2004.
A ray of hope
Javed Abid
On December 3 - the
International Day of Persons with
Disabilities( IDPI) - I kept
recollecting the immense work done
in this field by Javed Abidi. After all,
he served as director of the National
Centre for Promotion of Employment
for Disabled People (NCPEDP) in
India, and was the founder of the
Disability Rights Group.He’d passed
away in March, leaving behind huge
imprints of his work and outreach
and also some intense verse.
I had requested his younger
brother Amir and sister Sheeba to
send me his verse. I am quoting these
lines from his poem titled ‘Aligarh
1985’ which he had penned way back
in 1985 whilst studying in New Jersey.
His family was based in Aligarh and
he had gone abroad for higher
studies…got back only to immerse
himself in the rights of the disabled.
“ Aligarh 1985-
Aata hai yaad mujhko guzra hua
zamana, woh Aligarh kibaaten woh
hasna woh chah chahana!
Paida hua jahan par, palabadha
wahin par,
shahar hai ya jannat mushkil hai
batapana!
log chahte the, sab mante the
kuch bhi karon yaron par in se
mat takrana!
kuch ke liye farishta the ham sab,
kuch ke liye shaitan se bhi
badtar!
kuch bhi the karte, saath karte
the, kiya jo chahakarna!
Paya jo chaha pana!”