Accidental Blogger

A general interest blog

  • “agli wari beyraja peya tey chHaDna nahin…” (the next time anarchy occurs; don’t miss your chance…)

    The dream of a violent and destructive “revolution” that will “sweep away this sorry scheme of things entire and remake it nearer to heart’s desire” may or may not be an old idea. Some think it is derived from the apocalyptic visions of various Judeo-Christian cults and prophets, others that it is a relatively new idea that arose in post-enlightenment Europe and got exported to the rest of the world. Whatever the case, it is an idea that permeates modern millenarian ideologies like communism, and from that fecund source it has found its way into Islamism and dozens of other ideologies that yearn for total transfromation rather than incremental change. We in the subcontinent have not yet seen an organized premeditated revolution akin to the Russian or Chinese experience, but in the 20th century, we did see at least two episodes of very violent and sudden re-ordering of affairs, once in 1947 and then in 1971.1947 Oct  Hindu & Sikh refugees from Pakistan on way to  E. Punjab

     Neither episode was marked by anarchy in every corner of the subcontinent; the anarchy of 1947 was especially concentrated in West Pakistan and East Punjab. 
     Many terrible massacres and crimes occurred in other parts of North India and Bengal, but Punjab was by far the worst hit and the most totally transformed.  In West Pakistan, countless prosperous Hindus and Sikhs lost lands and businesses and moved to India (or died in the attempt). All this property was then reassigned to new owners. Keep in mind that urban property in particular had been heavily concentrated in the hands of Hindus and Sikhs. e.g., all of Anarkali bazar in Lahore was in Hindu hands prior to partition and on the main road (Mall road) there was only one Muslim-owned building (Shah din Building). Almost all cinemas and other valuable commercial property were owned by Hindus and Sikhs. Evacuee property boards were set up to try and bring some order to this process but the administration was as virginal as the state. A very small number of Muslim officials suddenly found themselves in the position of deciding the fate of property and assets worth billions. In the ensuing scramble, the most enterprising, the best connected, and the least scrupulous managed to grab vast wealth and opportunities, while millions didn’t even realize the full significance of what was happening.  Terrible massacres and riots were not just the result of deep religious hatreds or the sudden eruption of primal human savagery; Punjab, bloodied partitioned cleansedenterprising crooks took advantage of the anarchy of partition to get rid of competitors and anyone whose property looked ripe for plucking. As matters stabilized, terrible crimes and atrocities disappeared into the black hole of memory and the new elite got busy embellishing its own mythology of “deliverance from the Hindu yoke”, with little mention of how this “deliverance” involved the looting of existing property and the takeover of institutions and positions suddenly left vacant by the departure of the Hindu and Sikh elite.

    As far as I know, no one has published a detailed look at how many of the current Pakistani elite are composed of descendants of those who vaulted into elite status in 1947, but the proportion cannot be insignificant. And the effects of partition did not just include the upward mobility of some and destruction of others; everyone paid a price when long established traditions vanished overnight and the urgent ambition of the newly rich combined with shallow nationalism and millenarian fantasies to define the new world.  An anecdote from someone who failed to grab the opportunities available may be a better guide to how these events were assimilated into new values; an old man in our village in West Punjab was near death in 1970 and like most people in our village, was dying after a lifetime of poverty and hardship. He had become incoherent but a few minutes before the end, he suddenly became lucid and grabbing the hand of a younger relative, passed on this deathbed advice:  “agli wari beyraja peya tey chaddna nahin…” (the next time anarchy occurs; don’t miss your chance…). Beyraja (absence of Raj) here refers to the time in 1947 when, for a few months, every property owned by Hindus and Sikhs was suddenly there for the taking.  He, like most people, had missed his chance. He did not want his younger relatives to miss the next one.

    Property was also suddenly available in East Punjab, where Muslim peasants were being driven out in a very systematic campaign of intimidation and massacre. The exchange was not equal in terms of property because the Sikh cultivators who were driven East had lost more than they could get from Muslims moving West, simply because Sikhs in West Punjab had held more land than Muslims in East Punjab. But even so there was always opportunity for the better connected and more ruthless to edge out those who lacked the necessary entrepreneurial drive.  The Hindu commercial class driven into India was even less likely to find commercial property worth a tenth of what they left behind. In their case, their subsequent entry into the Indian elite may have owed more to hard work and the enhanced drive of those driven to take refuge in another land, but again, the results cannot have been equally distributed. Many a gentle soul may have floundered in poverty while those with greater drive and ambition leapt ahead. And for all of them, “winners” or “losers”, the psychological impact of partition cannot have been entirely benign. One under-examined impact is the way both Indian and Pakistani migrants lost their connection with their old culture as they left the land where that culture had been born and bred. The subsequent success of modern “fundamentalist” and nationalist ideologies in migrants on both sides, and their continued migration to a hundred other countries after the first migration shook them loose, also owes something to the events of partition.

    The events of 1971, while very different in their causes and in the mechanics of transfer of power, ultimately involved anarchy and violence at levels similar or greater than those seen in partition. Known prominent Awami League sympathizers were obviously targeted at the start of military action in East Pakistan, but it was the Hindus in East Pakistan who became the primary victims of a policy that can only be described as ethnic cleansing. It is common for both Pakistan and Bangladesh to underplay the “Hindu-centric” aspect of this policy (for different reasons), but its impact was dramatic. Practically the entire Hindu population of East Pakistan was forced to escape to India. Most of them ended up in pathetic refugee camps and the death toll from disease there was much greater than the death toll from bullets and bombs in East Pakistan itself. Come December, they could go back to BD, but even though the Awami League had a relatively secular outlook and may have been genuinely willing to welcome them back, getting back valuable property was not always easy.   Army action had been accompanied by extensive looting and in many cases the looters were locals, working with or without the Pakistani army. Urdu-speaking migrants from Bihar and North India who were ideologically aligned with the Pakistani army took the lead in many cases, but as in any period of anarchy, local Bengali “entrepreneurs” were also able to step forward and this part of the story is not as well-advertised.

    In any case, the Urdu-speaking migrant population did not enjoy its opportunity for loot, plunder and local domination for too long in East Pakistan; with the Pakistani army’s surrender on December 16th, they suddenly found themselves on the losing side in a civil war, which is never a happy place to be.Bangladesh 1971Hundreds, probably thousands, were massacred within a few days while others found refuge in overpopulated, disease-ridden camps, where some are living to this day, waiting for Pakistan to take them back.  Now it was their turn to lose property and positions and naturally there were Bengali entrepreneurs around to take advantage of these opportunities. In some cases, these Bengali entrepreneurs were the same people who had loyally served the Pak army in its 8 month long crackdown and now managed to switch sides in time. A researcher interviewing Bengali rape victims many years later asked one of them why she did not try to get justice for her suffering? She replied that the same person who took me to the Pakistani army camp in 1971 is the local MP today. Where would I go for justice? A new elite was born in BD, just as one had been born in West Pakistan at partition. And some of those joining the club were as enterprising and unprincipled as the ones who heard opportunity knocking in 1947 and grabbed it with both hands.

    The point is not to rake up bygones or blame one country or one nationality or to besmirch the name of a particular ideology or religion. It is just to point out that in all such events, when the dust settles it is not only (or not even mostly) the ideologues and true-believers that have changed position in society; enterprising crooks take advantage and move up, and many gentle souls find themselves sliding down the socio-economic ladder. The populations targeted for cleansing are very variable; Hindus, Sikhs, Muslims, Bengalis, Punjabis, aristocrats, feudals, whatever…and their crimes, real and imagined, always loom large in propaganda. But all too often, “rivers of blood” are just that; rivers of blood. The price is very high and the reward unevenly and unfairly distributed. As millenarian excitement rises again in Pakistan and the dream of a new “revolution” takes hold in the middle class, it is worth keeping some of this in mind.The revolution, if it comes, may not be what they were looking for...

    "A revolution is not a dinner party, or writing an essay, or painting a picture, or doing embroidery…" 200px-Destroy_the_old_world_Cultural_Revolution_posterIslamic_revolution_by_rebelitaRevolution_NOW_
    Revolution2


  • Creation by Intelligent Design (Norman Costa)

    Can you name the creator of each of these 15 designs? 

    Casserole_pot

    1. Yes, it's a casserole pot with lid. ______________________________

    Chair

    2. It was a comfortable chair in its day. ______________________________ 

     

    Chest_of_dawers

    3. You've seen one in many motel rooms. ______________________________ 

     

    Coke_dispenser

    4. What can I say? ______________________________ 

    (more…)

  • Please excuse the lack of postings of late. Who knows when one of us will find the time to write something worth your attention. In the meantime, please amuse yourself with this little art project. A very happy New Year to everyone.

    Stick-figure

     

  • Cardinal_francis_george

    Catholic Cardinal Francis George: Gay Pride = Klan Rally? (Norman Costa)

    FutureNews Network (FNN) – June 2012, Chicago, IL, USA

    Chicago_gay_pride_parade_001

    A record 850,000 people came to Chicago today to watch or take part in the Annual Gay Pride Parade. By all accounts, it was loud, fun, quirky, colorful, at times bordering on the ourrageous and risque, and a great success, according to parade organizers. 'It's all about pride,' said the President of the organizing committee for this year's event. 'It's about pride in ourselves, our friends, our community, and in Chicago for being a great city of tolerance and inclusion.'

    Only six months ago, there was concern about the reaction of the Catholic Church. Our own Cardinal Francis George likened the rhetoric of some members of the GLBT to that of the KKK. The Cardinal said that to them, the Catholic Church is the enemy.

    The Cardinal was prompted to make his remarks, because the parade route was changed and would pass right in front of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, RC Church, on West Belmont Avenue. The local pastor was very concerned because Sunday morning church goers would find it very difficult to get through the crowds and cross the parade route to get to Sunday Mass.

    Predictably, there was an outcry over Cardinal George's remarks.  What seemed like an inevitable confrontation between the Catholic Church and the parade organizers, was transformed into a cooperative display of community spirit. It began when the Cardinal apologized for what he described as intemperate and uncharitable remarks. 

    Olmc_church-front_chicago_200x249

    The Cardinal, himself, negotiated with the city and the parade organizers. Local parishioners organized themselves as escorts and path makers through the crowds, and crossing guards to get church goers safely across the street. The whole thing was supervised by the police so that there would be a minimum of interruptions for church goers and the parade. 

    The real news was not the agreement on escorts and crossing guards, but a large sign put up by Cardinal George, in front of the Church. It had the schedule of Masses. 

    'SUNDAY
     - 8:00 a.m., 9:30 a.m., 11:00 a.m. and 4:30 p.m. 
    AGLO Mass - Sunday 7:00 p.m. – Archdiocesan Gay and Lesbian Outreach'

    In addition, the sign read, 'After the parade, come back for Mass, or for private prayer and meditation in our Church. All are welcome.'

    Olmc_chicago_sanctuary_270x394

    We learned that both Cardinal George, and pastor Father Thomas Srenn officiated at the 7:00 pm AGLO Mass. No one expected the overflow crowd for the AGLO Mass. The only problems were two people who tried to disrupt the Mass, but they were quickly excorted out by plain clothes police. 

    The Cardinal was asked if the Church would do the same for next year. 'Of course,' he said. 'That is why the Church is here.' When asked if he would do anything different, he was quick to say, 'Yes. Next year we will have two AGLO Masses, and sufficient time and priests to hear confessions beforehand.' 

    A CNN reporter asked if there was anything else he would like to say. He said, 'Bless all gay Catholics, all gay people, and all children of God!' The reporter was heard to say, 'Amen.'
     

  • GNHSo much for the concept of Gross National Happiness, a concept developed and promoted as an index of well-being by the Royal Government of Bhutan in 2005. While efforts to quantify it were widely publicized and discussed, nobody seemed to take the Bhutan government to task for its treatment of the ethnically Nepali Lhotshampas and their being forced out of the country. There is an entire population of them resettled or waiting to be resettled in other countries.

    "Over 105,000 Bhutanese have spent more than 15 years living in refugee camps established in Nepal by the United Nations High Commission for Refugees.
    Thousands more are living outside the camps in Nepal and India, and some in North America, Europe and Australia."

    I came across one of those Bhutanese Nepali refugees a few weeks ago, as I mention in my personal blog post" Threaded"

    For some refugees, the change of location has led to a hope for a new life, for example, a group settled in Pittsburgh, PA. (Article from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette)

    "They arrive, for the most part, at Pittsburgh International Airport with little more than the clothes they are wearing. They must quickly learn to navigate an unfamiliar city, speak English, adjust to American practices and organizations, find work and send their children to school.

    Their journey here and the acculturation process after they arrive involve layers of international groups, U.S. government agencies, a resettlement organization and social services."

    But for some it is too much to handle, with tragic results.

    "He was found dead hanging in a laundry room Friday morning,” Bhanu Phuyel, another refugee resettled in the same city, told ekantipur.com from the US….Six members of the family were sharing a two-bed room apartment along with another family with four people. They had not received any other facility except food card.

    [Jit Bahadur Pradhan] was annoyed with the circumstances, and used to complain with his two sons that the situation there was no better than in the camp in Nepal."

    Will these dispossessed ever have their questionnaires added to those back home in Bhutan? What will happen to its much-vaunted high GNH quotient then?

    Gross National Happiness does equal Gross National Irony, in this case.

     

  • Here is the announcement of this year's winners of the 3 QD Politics & Social Science Prize. All three are excellent posts worth reading.

    Accidental Blogger had the privilege of being among the nine finalists and that to me personally, is hugely encouraging. We can get distracted by the cacophony on the web, hopping around between headlines on news sites and the social media, thinking fleetingly about issues that catch our attention and are forgotten soon thereafter. Blogs have lost much of their early allure but they remain convenient venues for sharing our thoughts with others by means of cogent and thoughtful writing. Nothing focuses one's mind better than putting one's opinions and ideas together by means of well chosen words. I intend to utilize more of my time in the new year in gathering my thoughts and writing them down, just as I did in the early years of the blog. I probably will no longer be as prolific but "real" blogging on a smaller scale may still prove to be an enjoyable endeavor. I urge my co-bloggers to consider writing a few substantive posts of their own on any topic that interests them during the coming year, as and when time and inclination permit.

    Strange Quark

    (NOTE: We are not the "winner" but the logo is irresistible to me because I have seen the original source of the picture)

  • R-VACLAV-HAVEL-DIES-large570

    Vaclav Havel: The good, they die young (Norman Costa)

    Vaclav Havel Dies: Former Czech President Dead At 75. Read HERE.

    by WILLIAM J. KOLE and KAREL JANICEK, 12/18/11 10:44 AM ET, in Huffington Post

    PRAGUE — Vaclav Havel wove theater into revolution, leading the charge to peacefully bring down communism in a regime he ridiculed as "Absurdistan" and proving the power of the people to overcome totalitarian rule.

    Shy and bookish, with a wispy mustache and unkempt hair, the dissident playwright was an unlikely hero of Czechoslovakia's 1989 "Velvet Revolution" after four decades of suffocating repression – and of the epic struggle that ended the wider Cold War.

    He was his country's first democratically elected president, leading it through the early challenges of democracy and its peaceful 1993 breakup into the Czech Republic and Slovakia, though his image suffered as his people discovered the difficulties of transforming their society.

    A former chain-smoker who had a history of chronic respiratory problems dating back to his years in communist jails, Havel died Sunday morning at his weekend home in the northern Czech Republic, his assistant Sabina Tancevova said. His wife Dagmar and a nun who had been caring for him the last few months of his life were by his side, she said. He was 75.

    "A great fighter for the freedom of nations and for democracy has died," said Lech Walesa, his fellow anti-communist activist who founded neighboring Poland's Solidarity movement. "His outstanding voice of wisdom will be missed."

    Among his many honors were Sweden's prestigious Olof Palme Prize and the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the highest U.S. civilian award, bestowed on him by President George W. Bush for being "one of liberty's great heroes."

    An avowed peacenik whose heroes included rockers such as Frank Zappa, he never quite shed his flower-child past and often signed his name with a small heart as a flourish.

    "Truth and love must prevail over lies and hatred," Havel famously said. It became his revolutionary motto which he said he always strove to live by.

    "It's interesting that I had an adventurous life, even though I am not an adventurer by nature. It was fate and history that caused my life to be adventurous rather than me as someone who seeks adventure," he once told Czech radio, in a typically modest comment.

    Havel first made a name for himself after the 1968 Soviet-led invasion that crushed the Prague Spring reforms of Alexander Dubcek and other liberally minded communists in what was then Czechoslovakia.

    Havel's plays were banned as hard-liners installed by Moscow snuffed out every whiff of rebellion. But he continued to write, producing a series of underground essays that stand with the work of Soviet dissident Andrei Sakharov as the most incisive and eloquent analyses of what communism did to society and the individual.

    One of his best-known essays, "The Power and the Powerless" written in 1978, borrowed slyly from the immortal opening line of the mid-19th century Communist Manifesto, writing: "A specter is haunting eastern Europe: the specter of what in the West is called 'dissent.'"

    In the essay, he dissected what he called the "dictatorship of ritual" – the ossified Soviet bloc system under Leonid Brezhnev – and imagined what happens when an ordinary greengrocer stops displaying communist slogans and begins "living in truth," rediscovering "his suppressed identity and dignity."

    Havel knew that suppression firsthand.

    Born Oct. 5, 1936, in Prague, the child of a wealthy family which lost extensive property to communist nationalization in 1948, Havel was denied a formal education, eventually earning a degree at night school and starting out in theater as a stagehand.
    His political activism began in earnest in January 1977, when he co-authored the human rights manifesto Charter 77, and the cause drew widening attention in the West.

    Havel was detained countless times and spent four years in communist jails. His letters from prison to his wife became one of his best-known works. "Letters to Olga" blended deep philosophy with a stream of stern advice to the spouse he saw as his mentor and best friend, and who tolerated his reputed philandering and other foibles.

    The events of August 1988 – the 20th anniversary of the Warsaw Pact invasion – first suggested that Havel and his friends might one day replace the faceless apparatchiks who jailed them.

    Thousands of mostly young people marched through central Prague, yelling Havel's name and that of the playwright's hero, Tomas Garrigue Masaryk, the philosopher who was Czechoslovakia's first president after it was founded in 1918.

    Havel's arrest in January 1989 at another street protest and his subsequent trial generated anger at home and abroad. Pressure for change was so strong that the communists released him again in May.

    That fall, communism began to collapse across Eastern Europe, and in November the Berlin Wall fell. Eight days later, communist police brutally broke up a demonstration by thousands of Prague students.

    It was the signal that Havel and his country had awaited. Within 48 hours, a broad new opposition movement was founded, and a day later, hundreds of thousands of Czechs and Slovaks took to the streets.

    In three heady weeks, communist rule was broken. Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones arrived just as the Soviet army was leaving. Posters in Prague proclaimed: "The tanks are rolling out – the Stones are rolling in."

    On Dec. 29, 1989, Havel was elected Czechoslovakia's president by the country's still-communist parliament. Three days later, he told the nation in a televised New Year's address: "Out of gifted and sovereign people, the regime made us little screws in a monstrously big, rattling and stinking machine."

    Although he continued to be regarded a moral voice as he decried the shortcomings of his society under democracy, he eventually bent to the dictates of convention and power. His watchwords – "what the heart thinks, the tongue speaks" – had to be modified for day-to-day politics.

    In July 1992, it became clear that the Czechoslovak federation was heading for a split. Considering it a personal failure, Havel resigned as president. But he remained popular and was elected president of the new Czech Republic uncontested.
    He was small, but his presence and wit could fill a room. Even late in life, he retained a certain impishness and boyish grin, shifting easily from philosophy to jokes or plain old Prague gossip.

    In December 1996, just 11 months after his first wife, Olga Havlova, died of cancer, he lost a third of his right lung during surgery to remove a 15-millimeter (half-inch) malignant tumor.

    He gave up smoking and married Dagmar Veskrnova, a dashing actress almost 20 years his junior.

    Holding a post of immense prestige but little power, Havel's attempts to reconcile rival politicians were considered by many as unconstitutional intrusions, and his pleas for political leaders to build a "civic society" based on respect, tolerance and individual responsibility went largely unanswered.

    Media criticism, once unthinkable, became unrelenting. Serious newspapers questioned his political visions; tabloids focused mainly on his private life and his flashy second wife.

    Havel left office in 2003, 10 years after Czechoslovakia broke up and just months before both nations joined the European Union. He was credited with laying the groundwork that brought his Czech Republic into the 27-nation bloc in 2004, and was president when it joined NATO in 1999.

    Even out of office, the diminutive Havel remained a world figure. He was part of the "new Europe" – in the coinage of then-U.S. Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld – of ex-communist countries that stood up for the U.S. when the democracies of "old Europe" opposed the 2003 Iraq invasion.

    Havel was nominated several times for the Nobel Peace Prize, and collected dozens of other accolades worldwide for his efforts as a global ambassador of conscience, defended the downtrodden from Darfur to Myanmar.

    "He was among the hand full of true democratic champions, an artist more than a politician, but an ambassador of the human conscience above all," said former U.S. Secretary of State Madeleine Albright. "Amid the turbulence of modern Europe, his voice was the most consistent and compelling – endlessly searching for the best in himself and in each of us."

    "I never imagined that I would have had the privilege of being his friend," she said.

    In an October 2008 interview with The Associated Press, Havel rebuked Russia for invading Georgia two months earlier, and warned EU leaders against appeasing Moscow.

    "We should not turn a blind eye … It's a big test for the West," he said.

    Havel also said he saw the global and European economic crisis as a warning not to abandon basic human values in the scramble to prosper.

    "It's a warning against the idea that we understand the world, that we know how everything works," he told the AP in his office in Prague. The cramped work space was packed with his books, plays and rock memorabilia.

    Havel himself acknowledged that his handling of domestic issues never matched his flair for foreign affairs. But when the Czech Republic joined NATO and the EU his dreams came true.

    "I can't stop rejoicing that I live in this time and can participate in it," Havel exulted.

    Early in 2008, Havel returned to his first love: the stage. He published a new play, "Leaving," about the struggles of a leader on his way out of office, and the work gained critical acclaim.

    Theater, he told the AP, was once again his major interest.

    "My return to the stage was not easy," he said. "It's not a common thing for someone to be involved in theater, become a president, and then go back."

  •  Christopher Hitchens

    BBC News UK 16 December 2011 Last updated at 01:21 ET

    Christopher Hitchens dies after battle with cancer (Norman Costa)

    "Vanity Fair's editor said those who read him felt they knew him.

    "British author, literary critic and journalist Christopher Hitchens has died, aged 62, according to Vanity Fair magazine.

    "He died from pneumonia, a complication of the oesophageal cancer he was suffering from, at a Texas hospital.

    "Vanity Fair said there would "never be another like Christopher".

    "He is survived by his wife, Carol Blue, and their daughter, Antonia, and his children from a previous marriage, Alexander and Sophia.

    "Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter described the writer as someone "of ferocious intellect, who was as vibrant on the page as he was at the bar".

    ""Those who read him felt they knew him, and those who knew him were profoundly fortunate souls."

    "Mr Hitchens was born in Portsmouth in 1949 and graduated from Oxford in 1970.

    "He began his career as a journalist in Britain in the 1970s and later moved to New York, becoming contributing editor to Vanity Fair in November 1992.

    "He was diagnosed with cancer in June 2010, and had documented his declining health in his Vanity Fair column.

    "In an August 2010 essay for the magazine he wrote: "I love the imagery of struggle.

    ""I sometimes wish I were suffering in a good cause, or risking my life for the good of others, instead of just being a gravely endangered patient."

    "Prolific writer

    "He wrote for numerous publications including The Times Literary Supplement, the Daily Express, the London Evening Standard, Newsday and The Atlantic.

    "He was the author of 17 books, including The Trial of Henry Kissinger, God is not Great, How Religion Poisons Everything, and a memoir, Hitch-22.

    "Arguably, a collection of his essays, was released this year.

    ""Prospect of death makes me sober, objective."

    "Radicalised by the 1960s, Hitchens was often arrested at political rallies and was kicked out of the Labour Party over his opposition to the Vietnam War.

    "He became a correspondent for International Socialism magazine.

    "In later life he moved away from the left. Following the September 11 attacks he argued with Noam Chomsky and others who suggested that US foreign policy had helped cause the tragedy.

    "He supported the Iraq War and backed George W Bush for re-election in 2004."

     

  • Wallace_stevens_sunday_morning_00_complacencies_of_peignor

    "Sunday Morning" on Sunday Night (Norman Costa)

    Last night, Sunday, I spent an evening with friends. I convinced myself that I provide an indispensable service by encouraging the cook and her dinner-in-progress. "What are you chopping up? Is that parsnip? It tastes like celery. Oh! It's celery root. That explains it. Terrific!" Toward the end of dinner, before dessert, I seconded her motion that adding capers and black oil cured olives would be even better, next time. 

    Of course, Roberta doesn't need my culinary advice and cheering, but sitting on a kitchen stool in the proximity of gastronomic events is an opportunity to paint a picture of my life events since the last time we gabbed and ate. Sergio was finishing his laundry so he could garb himself, confidently, for work the next morning. Sitting amid these very domestic of chores I announced that I wanted to tell them about my recent encounters with poetry. 

    Poetry is a big deal for me. It is only in recent years that I have been able to read and enjoy good poetry. Roberta writes poetry, herself, and can reach to her book shelf and pull out a poem that is apropos to any topic of discussion. I was telling her and Sergio about my earlier posting on Accidental Blogger, "To Hint of Religion, Or Not to Hint of Religion." HERE. In the comments, Dean Rowan mentioned Wallace Stevens' poem, "Sunday Morning," and we exchanged a few thoughts about it. 

    I found the poem so alluring that I couldn't get myself away from it. Each time I read it, I enjoyed it that much more, but seemed to understand it less and less. Perhaps I should rephrase. I was less and less certain of what Stevens was trying to do, to say, to get across. I think it is a religious poem, a Christian one at that, but he seems unsure about what he believes. No matter. I still enjoyed reading it.

    With Sergio's and Roberta's agreement and attention, I read the first two of eight stanzas, intending to go no further. Upon completion of my quarter way around the track, Sergio said, "Wow! That's very Pagan." "Yes," agreed Roberta, "it's a very Pagan poem." I was surprised and asked as to what made it Pagan. They said it was rife with nature symbols from beginning to end – of the first two stanzas. [You should know that they are both Pagans, and among an entire coven whom I count as friends.] "Would you like me to read the rest it?" I asked. "YES! Go on. But slower, this time."

    And so I did. Now the poem is even more curious, intriguing, and mysterious. I enjoy it even more. Maybe you will, too.

    Sunday Morning 

    Wallace Stevens Coffee Oranges

    1
    Complacencies of the peignoir, and late
    Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair,
    And the green freedom of a cockatoo
    Upon a rug mingle to dissipate
    The holy hush of ancient sacrifice.
    She dreams a little, and she feels the dark
    Encroachment of that old catastrophe,
    As a calm darkens among water-lights.
    The pungent oranges and bright, green wings
    Seem things in some procession of the dead,
    Winding across wide water, without sound.
    The day is like wide water, without sound,
    Stilled for the passing of her dreaming feet
    Over the seas, to silent Palestine,
    Dominion of the blood and sepulchre.


    Wallace_stevens_sunday_morning_02_jove

    2
    Why should she give her bounty to the dead?
    What is divinity if it can come
    Only in silent shadows and in dreams?
    Shall
    she not find in comforts of the sun,
    In pungent fruit and bright green wings, or else
    In any balm or beauty of the earth,
    Things to be cherished like the thought of heaven?
    Divinity must live within herself:
    Passions of rain, or moods in falling snow;
    Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued
    Elations when the forest blooms; gusty
    Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights;
    All pleasures and all pains, remembering
    The bough of summer and the winter branch.
    These are the measure destined for her soul.

    (more…)

  • The A.B. entry in 3 QD's 2011 Politics & Social Science competition has been selected as one of the nine finalists. The three eventual winners will be judged by Professor Stephen M. Walt.  It is an honor and a delight (and considerable surprise as well) to have have been deemed competitive by the discerning editors of 3 Quarks Daily.

    Readers who may have missed the post the first time around can read it here.

    3 QD Politics Prize 2011

  • Here is yet another little known segment of India's 20th – 21st century colonial and post colonial history. The emigration of a tiny Indian community from Kerala that began more than two decades before the India-Pakistan divide has now acquired a new trajectory due to the recent political developments in the Indian subcontinent

    The tiny Malayali community in Karachi has shrunk over the years. Those who remain wait in vain for a passage to India 

    The nondescript apartment looks like an average home in Karachi. It’s the bar of Chandrika herbal soap in the bathroom and the Mathrubhoomi calendar on the wall, ubiquitous to Malayali homes, that betrays the lineage of its occupants. The flat’s octogenarian owner, BM Kutty, came to Karachi from Kerala in search of greener pastures in 1949, a time when Karachi was just a train ride away from Mumbai. Since then, the political activist has spent six decades of his life as a Pakistani national.

    Kutty is part of the shrinking community of Malayalis settled in Karachi. Unlike some Muslims of north India who migrated to Pakistan during Partition, the migration of Malayali Muslims had a different context. The first exodus from Kerala to Karachi took place in 1921, the year of the Mappila Revolt, when landless Malabar Muslims (Mappilas) of Malappuram district in north Kerala launched an armed rebellion against the British and upper-caste Hindus. The uprising was brutally crushed after the British proclaimed martial law, and the Karachi chapter of Mappilas was born.

    “Many Mappilas fled to Mumbai or Karachi. Here, they started from scratch with nothing but a kettle and cups, delivering tea to offices. Soon, they were running paan shops and hotels,” says Kutty. Today, most Malayalis in Karachi are small-time owners of shops and restaurants. One can find an odd Malabari restaurant in the city, the masala dosa on the menus of many non-Malabari restaurants, and Malabar betel leaves from Kerala in Karachi’s paan stalls. But few of the city’s Mappilas speak Malayalam. At schools run by the Malabar Muslim Jamaat, established in 1920, a handful of students can speak Malayalam, but second-generation Malayalis are more fluent in Urdu than in their native tongue.

    Malappuram

     The full story here.