Shekhar Ke Jiwani: Part 1 by सच्चिदानंद हीरानंद वात्स्यायन 'अज्ञेय'

Shekhar Ek Jeevani: Part-1 by सच्चिदानंद हीरानंद वात्स्यायन 'अज्ञेय'
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

यह हिन्दी साहित्य की उत्कृष्ट रचनाओं में से एक मानी जाती है। हालाँकि, मैं थोड़ा अभिभूत रह गया था। शायद यह थोड़ा बहुत लंबा-घुमावदार और धीमी गति से चलने वाला था। शायद मैं उपन्यास की सेटिंग के ऐतिहासिक संदर्भ से अपनी पहचान नहीं बना पाया। बहरहाल, गेय भाषा और शुद्ध हिंदी शब्दों का प्रयोग पढ़कर अच्छा लगा। अब मैं दूसरा भाग शुरू करूँगा। वर्णन तेज गति से प्रतीत होता है।

एक प्रकम्पमय दीप्ती, शरत्काल में सेंकी हुई आग की मीठी गरमाई, उसमें है बेला के स्वर-सा घनत्व, उसमें है उषा के समय दूर पहाड़ पे बजती हुई बीन की खींची हुई वेदना, उसमें है बरसात की घोर अँधेरी रात में सुनी हुई वंशी का मर्मभेदी आग्रह और इन सब के साथ-साथ है यौवन के गहरे और टूटने की सीमा तक आकर न टूटने वाले स्वर की ललकार-सी।

A murder scene

तट पर छोटी झाड़ियां और ठूँठे वृक्षों का घना जंगल। खींची हुई आह की तरह गर्म और निस्तब्ध रात। ऊपर पेड़ों की सूखी शाखा में उलझा हुआ एकाध तारा, नीचे मरे हुए और धूल हुए पत्तों की सूखी आहों की भाफ और सामने .... एक बिखरा हुआ शव। उसके दोनों हाथ कटे हुए हैं। एक पैर कटा हुआ है, पेट खुल-सा गया है और उसमे से अँतड़ियाँ बाहर गिरी पड़ी हैं। फटी-फटी आँखें, ऊपर शाखा के जाल को भेदकर देख रहीं हैं किसी तारे को, और मुँह एक बिगड़ी हुई दर्द भरी मुसकुराहट लिए हुए हैं

Were Pink Floyd’s lyrics inspired by this

We don't need no education
We don't need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teacher, leave the kids alone
Hey! Teacher, leave us kids alone
All in all you're just another brick in the wall
All in all you're just another brick in the wall
शिक्षा देना संसार अपना सबसे बड़ा कर्त्तव्य समझता है, किन्तु शिक्षा अपने मन की, शिष्य के मन की नहीं। क्योंकि संसार का 'आदर्श व्यक्ति' व्यक्ति नहीं एक 'टाइप' है, और संसार चाहता है की सर्वप्रथम अवसर पर ही प्रत्येक व्यक्ति को थोक-पीटकर, उसका व्यक्तित्व कुचलकर, उसे उस टाइप में सम्मलित कर लिया जाय. उसे मूल रचना न रहने देकर एक प्रतिलिपि-मात्र बना दिया जाय।

Death

मृत्यु के पंख उस पर से बीत जाते हैं, लेकिन उनकी छाया उसे नहीं ग्रसती, वैसा ही उद्दीप्त छोड़ जाती है मृत्यु के पंखों में बसा है निशीथ का अन्धकार, लेकिन मुक्ति है एक असह्य देदीप्यमान ज्वाला

A new lease of life

इसमे बहुत शक्ति और स्फूर्ति आ गयी है, उसे लगता, उसे जीवन की एक नई क़िस्त मिलने वाली है … वह अपने ही मद में उन्मद कस्तूरी मृग की तरह या प्लेग से आक्रांत चूहे के तरह या अपनी दुम का पीछा करते हुए कुत्ते की तरह, अपने ही आस पास चक्कर काट कर रह जाता …

An encounter with the caste system on joining a boarding school

उनका भोजनागार सब ओर से घिरा हुआ था, ताकि किसी आते जाते व्यक्ति के कारण उनके भोजन में 'दृष्टिदोष' न हो जाए, वह छोटी जाति देखा जाकर भ्रष्ट न हो जाए। कभी ऐसा हो जाता, तो वह भोजन उतना ही अखाद्य हो जाता जैसे किसी कुत्ते ने उसे झूठा कर दिया। यद्यपि कुत्ते कई बार भोजनाघर में घुस आते थे और उन्हें 'हिश' करके भगा देना पर्याप्त होता था.

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Writer, Rebel, Soldier, Lover: The Many Lives of Agyeya by Akshaya Mukul

Writer, Rebel, Soldier, Lover: The Many Lives of Agyeya by Akshaya Mukul
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Despite wading through more than 500 pages, ‘Agyeya’ remains just that – an enigmatic figure. Of all his avataars he comes across most as a serial philanderer and a controversial poet, an author and an editor of various literary journals – most of which succumbed to the vagaries of time. His most famous book Shekhar Ek Jivani, Part-1 is a reflection of his own life

“It seems that if a low caste man looks at your food it is defiled, almost as if a dog had come and eaten part of it,” Sachchidanand noted. “Though dogs sometimes do come into the hall and are shooed out without making any difference.”
उनका भोजनागार सब ओर से घिरा हुआ था, ताकि किसी आते जाते व्यक्ति के कारण उनके भोजन में 'दृष्टिदोष' न हो जाए, वह छोटी जाति देखा जाकर भ्रष्ट न हो जाए। कभी ऐसा हो जाता, तो वह भोजन उतना ही अखाद्य हो जाता जैसे किसी कुत्ते ने उसे झूठा कर दिया। यद्यपि कुत्ते कई बार भोजनाघर में घुस आते थे और उन्हें 'हिश' करके भगा देना पर्याप्त होता था.
…how certain roads were not open to low-caste travellers, how a low-caste man had to cross a river by ferry as bridges were mostly reserved for high castes, how an untouchable could not buy land in a Brahmin neighbourhood. He noted that an untouchable had to raise his hand and shout ‘unclean’ like a “leper when he came in sight of any Brahmin so that the latter might not be defiled by coming too near.”
ब्राह्मणों के लिए अलग सड़कें हैं जिन पर अछूत 'पंचम' नहीं चल सकते, पंचमों को नदियाँ नांव में बैठकर या किसी प्रकार पार करनी होती हैं क्योंकि पुल ऊँची जातियों के लिए सुरक्षित होते हैं …

With 200 pages of bibliography and notes, this book is meant more for a research scholar.

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The Gollancz Book of South Asian Science Fiction

The Gollancz Book of South Asian Science Fiction by Tarun K. Saint
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Gratifying to read SF with a South Asian flavour – where else will one come across Keo Karpin hair oil, Old Monk rum, FabIndia?
The Gandhi story could have been titled “The Metamorphosis” – a bitter satire on the present-day political scenario.
In another vignette from bureaucratic realms, before Senior Inspector Matadeen sets off to solve police related problems on the Moon

He had placed one foot inside the earth-ship’s door when Havildar Ram Sanjivan came running. “Pect-sab,” he said, “the house of the SP sa’ab asks you to bring her a heel-scrubbing stone from the moon.”

In the future too the renaming culture persists e.g., Ghera Road, Sardar Patel International Airport, Bombain, Maratharashtra etc. However, it is IAF’s Sukhoi-30 taking on alien craft with indigenous Astra Air to Air missiles and not US F-16s.
There is a brilliant juxtaposition of animal extinction with a biting satirical take on the present vainglorious PM with his ‘broad chest’. The author grudgingly prognosticates that Mr Modi remains PM till 2034.
While dwelling on extinctions, it is 2087 and Parsis are extinct, according to the dying declaration of the last Parsi

The small causes courts and the High Court in Mumbai breathed the proverbial sigh of relief…When the famous case of Cawas Navroz Parsi Whiskeywallah versus the Soli Henahgir Single Malt Whiskywallah came up before the court…The vultures had come back to Mumbai in 2080, but the Parsis had disappeared.

There is a sharp tongue-in-cheek commentary on the Hindu right, squirmingly accurate in all details. The author cocks a snook at the Gandhis.

The Congress, in these 70 years, had not remained idle. The party was now headed now by the Vadrites. Like the Parsis, the Gandhis had vanished, the bestowers of patronage, propounders of the doctrine of the divine right od the dynasty had disappeared.

The collection ends with the inevitable future dystopian story due to climate change with the inevitable unrequited love

He’s lying in the sand, in the relentless heat. The sand half buries his old home in Lajpat Nagar

and

they’d aim a rocket at the moon and name it Chandrayan, they’d tap strange machines called EVMs full of symbols like lotuses, palms and cycles to bring other humans in whose ideas they believed to power, even when they had good reason to suspect that these humans were far from trustworthy

Immensely readable collection.

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संपूर्ण कहानियाँ : फणीश्वरनाथ रेणु

संपूर्ण कहानियाँ : फणीश्वरनाथ रेणु by फणीश्वर नाथ रेणु
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

A wonderful anthology of stories ranging from the pre-independence times to the late sixties. Beautifully printed book, bound with an attractive cover. Each story is graced at the beginning and end with an icon of Madhubani art.
The tone of the stories is like that of Munshi Premchand but on a more optimistic note. The chronological order reflects the evolution of the author’s style and content. Initially, restricted to rural life talking about people from the bottom of the socioeconomic layer like Dalits, farmers, iron-smiths, carpenters, cobblers, cattle, Naxalites etc.

बाबू नाम तो मेरा करमा ही है। वैसे लोगों के हज़ार मुहँ हैं, हज़ार नाम कहते हैं। निताय बाबू कोरमा कहते थे, घोस बाबू करीमा कहकर बुलाते थे, सिंघजी ने सब दिन कामा ही कहा और असगर बाबू तो हमेशा करम-करम कहते थे। खुश रहने पर दिल्लगी करते थे - हाय मेरे करम ! नाम में क्या है, बाबू? जो मन में आये, कहिये। हज़ार नाम।

There is a gradual shift to a more urbanised milieu as writers, workers in banks and offices, charlatans, quacks, doctors, railway employees take the centre stage. Issues like war, romance and love, adultery (and cuckolds), communism are tackled with skill.
Lord Krishna's leela features in one story, a valiant buffalo takes on the goons of exploitative landlords in another, and a crow is a protagonist in one story - dispelling its reputation as a bird of ill omen.
In the final story the author goes back to his roots, paying homage to his cultural background and Madhubani art, specifially.

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Crimson Spring by Navtej Sarna

Crimson Spring: A Novel by Navtej Sarna
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

An engrossing narrative, part fictional, but based on historical fact – the despicable episode of the Jallianwala Bagh massacre and the subsequent brutalization of the populace of Punjab by the British.
The author succeeds in capturing the evocative beauty of rural Punjab, the ethos of Sikhism and valorous Sikhs and Punjabis, whilst describing the duplicity and tyranny of the colonial rule.

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Hurricane Season by Fernanda Melchor

Hurricane Season by Fernanda Melchor
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

A searingly vivid description of the dismal underbelly of Mexico peopled by degenerates of various kinds – pimps, druggies, thieves, rapists, transgenders, faggots, paedophiles, murderers – in sort, the kind of rascally reprobates found in similar semi-urban regions around the world.

they made their way back home in the darkness that was growing thicker by the minute, swallowing all the colours around them, transforming the crowns of the trees and the shrubs in the cane fields and the canvas of the night into one solid mass of schist, against which the bare bulbs from the houses in town shone like tiny red carbuncles in the distance … when they were drunk as skunks and high as kites on the weed that the Witch grew in her garden and those mushrooms that flourished under cow pats in the rainy season and that the freak collected and preserved in syrup to get her visitors off their tits, properly spaced out and tripping all kinds of shit, their eyes like Japanese anime characters and their mouths agape because of all the things they were hallucinating

Add corrupt cops, poverty and witchcraft to this unholy brew, and you have a humdinger of a book.

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