Leaving it to Psmith | Why Wodehouse is My Cuppa Tea ❤️

On Why I Love Wodehouse! 😉

And how I ‘manifested’ my love for the legend in my own little ways! 😊

#musings #lovelyreads

Horror fiction has never been my cuppa coffee... oops... my cuppa tea, anytime! 😊

On the other hand, I’ve always loved reading stories that abound with light comedy, idyllic settings, cheerful characters with a zest for life, where the characters don’t have any harsh words for anyone, and at the same time, so chivalrous and romantic when it comes to adventurous escapades, with albeit light-hearted endings! Such stories have always truly blue-ly resonated much with my reading sensibilities for long.

This takes me back down memory lane - to an array of lovely reads from my childhood days that have really helped me lots in cultivating such a sensibility! Remember Tintin? or Happy Days? He’s of that ilk! 😊

And that’s exactly ‘that something’ that makes P.G. Wodehouse so special for me. A real master-blaster when it comes to an impish linguistic playfulness, written in such beautiful comic prose, offering an idealised world for his readers.

Be it his use of witty classical mythology, or those quaint Latin phrases, or that odd contemporary slang – he has them all woven into his pages, so much that, eminent English writer Evelyn Waugh famously observed that,

Wodehouse produced an average of three uniquely brilliant and entirely original similes on each page.

Of all his amazing novels that form part of his oeuvre, there are quite a few that have fascinated me lots. One among them is titled, Leave It to Psmith (1923) – a novel that holds a distinct place in the Wodehouse-ian universe.

The novel is all about Psmith, an urban, sharp-witted hero, who steps out of his own universe and directly into Blandings Castle - the idyllic, pastoral realm of Lord Emsworth.

Ronald Psmith endears himself to us more because of the fact that he is a kinda intellectual protagonist, someone who is brilliant, self-aware and at the same time tries to make the entire place around him happy in every way! 😊

He addresses everyone – right from aristocrats to valet impersonators - as “Comrades” with mock-socialist warmth, stunning everyone he meets with elaborate, polite rhetoric, not once losing his cool or calm or composure during the entire course of the novel.

2004 Edition 😊

And for this exact reason, way back in time - almost 24 years ago, when I had just joined the Dept of English, MCC has Lecturer, I had decided to abridge a few such novels of the legend, at the pace of one novel a month, by retaining his razor-sharp dialogue, in its original aura, but still, making it an easy read for the lay reader, reducing the novel’s size from 350 pages to 25 pages in the process! 😊

Apart from the dialogue, the plot is yet another aspect of the novel that’s got such an unputdownable, joyous pace to it – something that you must feel in order to experience it.

Just giving us all some snippets from the abridged novel – a purely out-and-out self-publication – that I had done using my personal computer and printer, in my own quirky raw and rugged style. 😊

15 more pages to go! to be continued... when time permits... 😊

"Each week, try to choose a new location" ❤️

Finding Awe!

#inspirational

I was so happy to listen to a podcast by Mel Robbins last night – thanks a lot to Shree for sharing it with me, and on a heart-warming note, she also said that she strongly recommends this podcast for our students. Way to go, Shree! 

Something that makes me so happy and in fact excites me quite a lot is when our vibrant students – past or present – share from their reading or listening lists.

Ms. Shree especially scores high on the list!

A few current PG students also shared from their reading lists with me yesterday. This includes Ms. Swarna who shared with me her reading from Edward B. Titchener. Way to go dear readers!

Coming back –

This particular episode of the podcast interested me lots as it featured Dr. Dacher Keltner, who is one of the world’s leading experts on the science of happiness, meaning, purpose, and awe.

It was such an engaging conversation, where both Mel and Keltner were at their spontaneous best! Dr. Keltner says that, finding your life’s purpose doesn’t require a massive life overhaul! rather, it is rooted in our everyday micro-moments and reconnecting with our authentic self!

Dr. Keltner, citing research, says that, even that tiny, seemingly insignificant occurrences - like noticing a beautiful sunset, sharing a good laugh, listening to a favourite song, or having a meaningful conversation - shape our happiness and calm our nervous systems far more than grand achievements.

Whenever we feel lost or disconnected, the podcast suggests that, we look backward to our childhood days, and ask ourselves what naturally lit us up as a child, or who inspired us, thus leaving breadcrumbs that point directly to our inherent strengths and purpose.

Seeking out experiences of awe and wonder in our daily life is a powerful way to gain clarity, step out of a stressed mindset, and feel more connected to the world around you, says Keltner.

True purpose is a continuous practice of understanding ourseves and leaning into the things that make us feel the most alive!

In fact, this Mel episode serves as a reminder for us slow down, practice gratitude for the little things, and let our natural curiosities guide our sense of meaning in life.

Well, after listening to the podcast, I wanted to read more about Keltner and came across this lovely book.

The book is titled, Awe: The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life.

What I like about the book is that, Keltner takes just one emotion – awe - and he applies an intense scientific methodology to it!

Tap into your childlike sense of wonder. Young children are in an almost constant state of awe since everything is so new to them. During your walk, try to approach what you see with fresh eyes, imagining that you’re seeing it for the first time.

Take a moment in each walk to take in the vastness of things, for example in looking at a panoramic view or up close at the detail of a leaf or flower. Go somewhere new.

Each week, try to choose a new location. You’re more likely to feel awe in a novel environment where the sights and sounds are unexpected and unfamiliar to you. That said, some places never seem to get old, so there’s nothing wrong with revisiting your favourite spots if you find that they consistently fill you with awe. The key is to recognize new features of the same old place.

says Keltner.

A few other lovely lines from the book -

Wonder, the mental state of openness, questioning, curiosity, and embracing mystery, arises out of experiences of awe!

In our studies, people who find more everyday awe show evidence of living with wonder. They are more open to new ideas. To what is unknown. To what language can’t describe. To the absurd. To seeking new knowledge.

In fact, it is hard to imagine a single thing you can do that is better for your body and mind than finding awe outdoors. Doing so leads to the reduced likelihood of cardiovascular disease, respiratory disease, diabetes, depression, anxiety and cancer.

“We can do whatever we want on this planet, I remember thinking, but the world will always win—so we might as well build as much joy, real joy for all people while we’re here.”

“Our daily diary findings suggest that these great minds and cultures were onto something: the wonders of life are so often nearby”.

Yet another interesting takeaway from the book is that, awe is NOT a luxury reserved for those with the wealth to travel. Rather, awe can be found in a few minutes of daily observation, those micro-moments, such as noticing the play of light on a leaf, witnessing a stranger’s generosity, or going for an “awe walk” in a garden.

Awe! How cool is it? 😊

An Awe-walk or an Awe-drive!

Thank you dear Shree for this lovely podcast, that helped me connect with this lovely book. 😊

A lovely little nostalgic note: Well, Shree happens to be one of our best students ever! I remember having nominated her as Group Leader for her combined class for Part II – PbT & Zoology Class in 2005, when I happened to be their English Prof! Back in those good ol’ days when we used to have group discussions – once every Day Order cycle! 😊

You may want to look up that past post from 21 years ago - November 2005, on our past post HERE.

Tasting Our Words | “Expensive Emotions Ever”

“Tasting Our Words” | “Linguistic Accountability” 

Expensive Emotions Ever

Authored by Ms. Swarna Rekha | II MA English

Book Review

Swarna Rekha’s first publication titled, Expensive Emotions Ever makes a very engaging and unputdownable read for any many reasons.

Firstly, the book doubles up as a moral compass and an ethical guide for modern society, by diagnosing the ‘ethical shortcomings’ of our society - especially in the digital age - and suggests that the remedies for these shortcomings can be found only in our traditional values.

Secondly, the author highlights the ‘normalisation of cruelty’ in modern internet culture. In her chapter titled, “Kindness,” she points to “memes, reels, trolls, and trends” as platforms where people routinely exploit the insecurities of others for their cheap entertainment.

Moreover, she vehemently condemns the modern habit of “spilling the tea” (gossiping) and urges readers to refuse to sit at tables where people are being judged without empathy.

Thirdly, the book provides a sharp critique of contemporary dating cultures. Swarna argues that modern love has become a “trend” characterised by competition, comparison, and materialism. She further notes that “Gen Z considers love to be materialistic and lustful,” lacking true emotional connection.

As a corrective measure, she offers a possible solution from her own standpoint, stating that, a return to a pre-Gen Z standard of love is the need of the hour, a love that requires non-materialistic effort, healthy communication, and the willingness to support a partner through imperfections rather than demanding perfection.

Fourthly, Swarna highlights the harmful consequences of embracing a ‘throwaway culture’. She observes that, the modern era has somehow embraced the throwaway culture - a tendency to abandon difficult situations or relationships rather than work through them.

The chapter titled, “Don’t replace; instead, repair,” directly tackles this ‘throwaway culture’ mentality, by beseeching the reader to look out for effortless replacements when a relationship faces friction. The author argues that constantly replacing people leads to a loss of loyalty and recurring guilt. Instead, she positions the effort to “repair and reunite” as an essential ethical duty that builds stronger, more permanent human bonds.

Fifthly, a strong “ethical orientation” forms the golden thread that weaves the book together into a harmonious whole. A significant portion of the book is dedicated to outlining core human values like honesty, respect, compassion, responsibility, and perseverance. In addition, she also ensures that these are not treated as obscure or idealistic theories, but as practical, daily requirements.

Sixthly, one particular concept that I personally liked very much was her emphasis on linguistic accountability. The book holds her readers strictly accountable for their communication. Hence, the author urges her readers to “Taste your words before you spill them out,” thereby addressing the impulsive tendency for reactive, careless speech. She also emphasises that negative words can cause deep psychological harm and hence insists that any verbal promises must be consistently backed by tangible actions, asserting that this alignment of word and deed reflects the “truest version of yourself”.

Seventhly, the book abounds with a lot of engaging Acronym-based definitions, to define standard emotions. For example, she frames LOVE as “Longing for Opportunities where Venture meets Empathy” and FEAR is characterised as a “Furious Enemy who Admits Risk to Your Confidence”. Again, she personifies Anger as an ‘Alien Invader’, by defining it as “an Alien that Nurtures your Grudge”, thereby foregrounding the fact that, these negative emotions are not a natural biological response, but a parasitic force that needs to be nipped in the bud.

Eighthly, the author has employed a lot of highly engaging literary devices to convey her message across to her readers. For example, in the piece titled, ‘Flowers are personified’, the author uses a garden as an allegory for the human psyche. By assigning specific emotional states to flora - daffodils for happiness, tulips for sadness, daisies for envy - the author creates a microcosm where emotions must learn to coexist.

Again, in her poem titled, ‘Emptiness into Fulfillment’, the internal struggle so beautifully connects with physical sensation. Phrases like “the darkest room without a light” and “wet, cold hands that shivered” effectively foreground the isolating nature of grief, which finally transitions to fulfilling joy when there is a focus on the self! (self-focus).

Finally, to conclude - in an age where human connection is frequently ‘replaced’ rather than ‘repaired’, our deepest emotions remain the most luxurious jewels that we possess! In this regard, Swarna Rekha’s book beautifully reminds us that our deepest emotions are not enemies to be feared, but a delicate garden to be cultivated and celebrated!

The vibrant cover design by Ms. Rakshaya (Ms. Swarna’s classmate) deserves special appreciation. One interesting feature that I observed about the cover design is the central heart, which is represented - not as a solid shape, but constructed from three distinct, petal-like forms, thereby visually representing how different emotions blend to create complex emotions aka expensive emotions.

In that way, the design of the cover beautifully mirrors the content of the book!

The Yukthi of the Counterfeit | Copies Without Originals!

The “Yukthi”fied Real in The Recognitions

[Ranked Tenth Among the Top Ten Longest Novels Written in English]

#topTen

The Recognitions is William Gaddis’s 1955 debut novel, aka maximalist novel. It is also regarded as one of the earliest examples of American postmodernist literature, inspiring a host of encyclopedic, maximalist novels by authors like Thomas Pynchon and Don DeLillo. Moreover, it ranks at number 10 among single-volume English novels, with a whopping word count of approximately 540,000 words!

Wyatt Gwyon, the protagonist is a deeply alienated artist who becomes a master-forger of 15th-century Flemish paintings.  

What makes him a unique master-forger is that, he does not simply copy existing paintings; rather, he creates entirely new works of art in the exact style of the old masters.

So when an art critic or buyer projects the intentions of a Renaissance master onto Wyatt’s modern creation, the forgery effectively functions as an original. The novel uses this “yukthi” (for lack of a better word) to interrogate what makes anything “real” in a commodified world, thereby suggesting that modern society is composed of copies without originals!

The novel’s most unique thematic achievement is how obsessively it explores the concept of the “counterfeit.” 

While the plot centres on Wyatt Gwyon who is busy forging Flemish masterpieces, Gaddis also extends the forgery “yukthi” to every corner of modern life. 

Be it in the realm of religion, where characters perform devotion without possessing actual faith,

or the realm of intellect, where the Bohemian partygoers in Greenwich Village parrot critical theory and philosophical concepts they barely understand just to project an aura of intelligence,

or the realm of language, where words are constantly stripped of their historical weight and etymological roots, and used merely as transactional currency rather than tools for genuine connection.

The novel thus forces us to ask the question - whether anything authentic can survive in a culture obsessed with reproduction and commodification.

As a reader, we find ourselves placed in the middle of a crowded, noisy room and forced to actively listen. It is in fact a replica of the alienation and “techno-distraction overload” upon our senses in the present techno-centric century.

Before The Recognitions, American literature was largely dominated by the direct, crisp and straightforward realism of writers like Hemingway. However, with The Recognitions, Gaddis takes the crown in introducing the “maximalist” novel to the United States!

"Life really is better when we are together" ❤️

I am because we are! ❤️

#highwayreflections

I happened to notice this lovely quote “Life is better when we are together”, on the tee shirt of a boy riding pillion with his friends, on a solitary highway, today.

The quote in fact captures the very essence of friendship in all its aura. 😊

While discussing Jane Eyre in class, more than two decades ago, I remember giving out the quote -

There are three types of friends. Some come into our lives for a reason, some for a season, and some others for a lifetime!

How true!

This particular scene of friends roaming around in a bike, gave me some lovely nostalgic memories of my own childhood days when I was surrounded by friends 24x7! 😊

Now for the literary takeaways from this blogpost –

When we apply a postcolonial lens to this snapshot, the phrase gets added cultural resonance and significance as well.

Colonial discourse quite often positioned the West as the centre of rationality and individualism, egged on by the Cartesian principle of “Cogito, ergo sum” (I think, therefore I am). In this Western framework, the autonomous, self-made individual is touted as the ultimate “ideal” of a well-lived life.

On the other hand, the Eastern perspective seeks to decentre the individual in favour of the collective!

In this regard, the lovely quote “Life is better when we are together” echoes the Southern African philosophy of the Ubuntu – “I am because we are!”, thereby bringing out a lovely indigenous epistemological truth – that, identity in the indigenous subject, is forged in a sense of togetherness, or community, not in isolation!

In this regard, Edward Said’s book titled, Orientalism would serve as a foundational text for understanding how the West constructed the East. Said explains how Western discourse positioned itself as rational, autonomous, and individualistic, while framing the East (the “Orient”) as an undifferentiated collective mass.

Ashis Nandy’s 1983 book titled, The Intimate Enemy: Loss and Recovery of Self under Colonialism also explores the Western concept of the hyper-masculine, hyper-rational individual and how it was imposed on the Indian psyche, and how he seeks to highlight traditional Indian concepts of self as much more fluid, relational, and collective!

Dipesh Chakrabarty in his insightful book titled, Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference, challenges the idea that Western historical development (and its focus on capitalist individualism) is the universal blueprint for humanity. He makes a compelling case for recognising alternative, non-Western ways of being in the world, which supports the idea that “roaming around as friends” is a unique socio-cultural pastime, that is ingrained in the indigenous psyche. Hence, “togetherness” here becomes an act of resistance as well!

I am also reminded of R.K. Narayan’s Swami and Friends - one of my favourite books and one of my favourite characters of all time!

While most of Western literature, especially the traditional coming-of-age story - the Bildungsroman - often features a protagonist who must necessarily separate from their community to forge a highly individualised, independent identity, Swaminathan’s story operates on a completely different standpoint altogether. 

His joys, anxieties, and very sense of self are entirely constructed through his friendship with Mani, Rajam, Somu, and Samuel. 

In short, Swami’s concept of self is plural!

Hence, I personally feel that, much akin to Swami, our truest identity is, and always will be, beautifully plural!

Yes! Beautifully plural!

Lovely, ain’t it? 😊

Friction in the Fiction | The Translation Trap & The Untamed Vernacular ❤️

Why Does Spivak Prefer Planetarity to Globalisation?

A Birthday Tribute to Anne Frank and Gitanjali Shree

#onherbirthdaytoday

12 June 2026

Today happens to be the birthday of two great writers who are celebrated the world over, thanks mainly to their works being translated into English.

Presenting Anne Frank and Gitanjali Shree, on their birthdays today, ladies and gentlemen.

There are quite a lot of similarities between Anne Frank and Gitanjali Shree, as regards their life and writing.

I am so excited to share yet another fortuitous coincidence here on this blogpost. Ms. Anne Dayanandan, the Founder of Campus School, presented me with Gitanjali Shree’s Tomb of Sand, three years ago, on this very same date – 12th June 2023! I can’t forget the valuable note that she had written for me, that came along with the book. So happy to present it here, for my dear readers. 

Coming back - 

Both Anne Frank’s The Diary of a Young Girl and Gitanjali Shree’s Tomb of Sand deal with the impact of 20th-century geopolitical trauma. While Frank’s diary is set against the backdrop of the Holocaust and the violent segregation of European Jews, Shree’s novel, Tomb of Sand (Ret Samadhi), is rooted in the trauma of the 1947 Partition of India.

Both authors have achieved great global recognition through translation. While Frank’s diary (translated from Dutch) became a paradigm for humanism in the face of atrocity, Shree made history by becoming the first author of a Hindi-language novel to win the International Booker Prize.

As a warm-up to today’s post, me thought of recollecting the subtle warning that Spivak gives her readers on the ‘translation trap’ – a purely “market-driven push” for massive anthologies of world literature in translation, labelling it as interpretive violence!

So what is the translation trap?

In her seminal essay, titled, “The Politics of Translation”, Spivak argues that translation is not a neutral linguistic transfer, but a deeply political act tied to power, colonialism, and global capitalism. Hence she warns against the exploitation of “Third World” texts into easily digestible English!

Spivak calls this phenomenon as the “translation trap” - the danger of translating texts from marginalised cultures into English in a way that erases their unique identity just to make them comfortable for Western readers.

The translation “trap” happens when a translator prioritises a “flattening” and “smoothening” of the text to make it easily consumable and digestible in the target language (usually English). Although the goal is often commercial and at times well-intentioned as well, it is indeed a huge injustice for the text in its original, source language, feels Spivak. That’s because, by ironing out the linguistic quirks, cultural idioms, and structural complexities of the original language, the translator strips away the text’s unique “Otherness,” feels Spivak.

So how do we overcome this translation trap?

Globalisation and the market push want translation to be “transparent” - making the text feel as if it were originally written in English, thereby erasing its origins. However, Spivak resists this claim of ‘transparency’. She advocates planetarity (and surrender) as means by which we can overcome the translation trap. This allows the text to remain “opaque”, unique and distinct.

But before we do a Spivakian comparativist study, let’s discuss two key terms propounded by Said and Spivak, that I’m sure will help us skyhigh in our little attempt at comparing Anne Frank with Gitanjali Shree!

Well, Edward Said’s concept of the “worldliness” of a text, I’m sure musta provided the spark for Spivak’s concept of “planetarity.”

In his 1983 book titled, The World, the Text, and the Critic, Said boldly dismantles the “New Critical” illusion that a literary work is a pure, autonomous object existing in a transcendent aesthetic vacuum. Instead, he argues that texts are inherently “worldly” as they are events inextricably tethered to the dirt of history, political power structures, and the specific material circumstances of their creation and reception.

20 years later, Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak introduced the concept of “planetarity” in her 2003 book Death of a Discipline as a radical alternative to “globalisation.” (although she had presented the concept much earlier, in the year 1997 in a paper presentation).

To Spivak, globalisation is the imposition of a uniform capitalist framework over the entire world. It exists to make almost everything – including currencies, cultures, literature, and land – quantifiable, measurable, exchangeable, and universally digestible. To this end, it flattens difference so that the global market can consume it!

That’s hence “planetarity” asks us to step off that framework. Hence, reading planetarily doesn’t mean a luxurious smoothing over of regional differences, cultural variations, historical traumas, and unique linguistic idiosyncrasies so that they sell well in English! 😊

Rather it exhorts the reader to preserve the friction in the fiction! It means reading a text from a marginalised culture and acknowledging that its specific vernacular, geography, and reality are distinct works of art, unique and have their own aura, and hence cannot be flattened for a globalised audience of readers and consumers.

With this in mind, shall we now do a quick comparativist (not comparative!) reading of Anne Frank and Gitanjali Shree’s key texts?

Spivak demands that the “new comparative literature” should engage with the friction of the vernacular and the geopolitical power-dynamics of language. She warns against the flattening effect of English as a master-decoder, which often erases the specific, material realities of the source languages.

She also insists that we should first look at the exact position the vernacular language occupies in the global hierarchy. In other words, she exhorts us to view both texts are battlegrounds of linguistic power!

Dutch is a minor European language, though one historically attached to a vast colonial empire. Anne Frank writes then writes from a position of subjugation - a persecuted Jewish teenager hiding from the Nazi regime. Her specific vernacular is bourgeois, and she uses the typical adolescent-dialect! She was not writing for a global audience; she was writing to construct a self (“Kitty”) while being confined in the Secret Annex.

When we look at the diary from the ‘battleground of linguistic power’ perspective, we find that, the Diary becomes a paradigmatic example of translational violence. Otto Frank, and subsequent translators, had heavily edited the original Dutch manuscripts, cutting off Anne’s harsh critiques of her mother and her raw, teenage sexual awakening, which she describes quite explicitly something akin to what Kamala Das does, in her My Story!

Translations have thus so subtly sanitised, smoothened and flattened her rebellious vernacular, so that, the translation industry can transform her into a universal symbol of “humanist hope” for the Western world – and thereby make her trauma consumable by a global audience.

This introspective comparativist study on the linguistic power, reveals harsh, harsher truths for the reader – that her voice was only allowed to “speak” after having been heavily mediated and curated by the patriarchal authority of her father and later, the publishing industry.

For example, Anne had edited her own writings about her crush on Peter and had harsh and critical thoughts about her mother, but Otto Frank deliberately chose to include them for its viral and sensational appeal!

However, he deliberately chose to omit passages Anne wrote harshly about his marriage to her mother, Edith, as well as some candid descriptions of her own awakening sexuality.

Now coming to Gitanjali Shree’s Tomb of Sand –

Although Hindi functions as a state language in India, globally, it remains subaltern to Anglophone literature. Moreover, Shree subverts the state’s sanitised, Sanskritised Hindi by writing in a radically syncretic vernacular. Ret Samadhi is saturated with Urdu, regional dialects, and dhwani (Sanskrit poetics of resonance), actively resisting linguistic purity and colonial borders.

Quite interestingly, the translator Daisy Rockwell (sides with Gitanjali), and refuses to globalise the language of the text to tweak and tune it for the global reader. She leaves a lot of cultural markers, wordplay, and specific concepts from the source language untranslated, thus forcing the global reader to experience the friction of the Hindi vernacular in all its aura!

On a personal note, I felt bad that the Translator’s preface was relegated to the last pages of the book.

This apart, now, let’s look at textual examples from the English translation of Tomb of Sand –

Here goes –

No, Ma, no, the children insisted, look outside, the sun is shining, get up, pick up the cane, it’s hanging right here, try some roasted rice, it has peas in it. Maybe she has loose motions, give her a digestive powder!

No, I will noooot. No, nyo, nyooo, Ma mewls.

She’s tired, poor thing, alone and defeated, lift her up, get her involved; entertain her!

Sympathy flows from them immeasurable as the waters of the Ganga, washing over Ma’s back.

Noooot nooooow, Ma tries to scream. But her voice comes out a whimper.

Daadi’s no no no won’t fly here. What should the back do now? At this breath of fresh air?

She whimpers, but fondly. T’so cold. Whisperwhisper mut-termutter. She melts a little.

An excuse. But a true one. Once uttered, truer. Really truly. Trembling within the quilt, trembles tumbling loose like a mouse running through the dark, Ma tenses and hides, but Siddharth is Sid. Must give it a try. So she whispers her mother’s old rhyme of winter: chilla jaara din chaalees, poos ke pandrah, maaghpachees - bitter cold winter for forty days, fifteen for the month of Poos, twenty-five for the month of Magh.

Speaks, after silence, and quotes a melodious proverb. The voice sings. A wavy wave. That bbbitter cccold for fforty days ff ifteeen for Poos, twenty-five ff or Mmmmagh. Awesome, Daadi! You and me should enter the Grammies, we’ll win for sure!

Something must be said about the daughter. We’ll call her Beti.

The window had become so useful that Ma had also learned how to hoist herself up, pivot and jump out. She came out in the silence of night with snacks - shakkarpara, mathri, bati chokha, tied up in bundles - and she’d meet up with Beti, banished from home, hidden away in the dense karonda bushes along the boundary wall, where they’d giggle like little girls.

A cursory study of the above excerpts reveal the slew of translation strategies that the translator has used in the English translation of the original.

For example,

First, let’s take up the concept of foreignisation! By translating shakkarpara to “sweet biscuits” or Daadi to “Grandma,” the translator forces the Anglophone reader to step into the Indian cultural world.

On an aside, foreignisation is a concept coined by translation theorist Lawrence Venuti. It is a deliberate strategy where the translator breaks the conventions of the target language (English) to preserve the cultural flavour of the source language (Hindi).

Secondly, let’s take up the concept of Culture-Specific Items (CSIs) or “Realia”

Words like mathri, karonda, and bati chokha are classified as CSIs. These are concepts regarding food, kinship, rituals, or flora/fauna that simply do not have a one-to-one equivalent in English. Translators retain them because translating them would erase their specific cultural identity.

Finally, let’s take up the concept of Code-Mixing. In phrases like “Awesome, Daadi!”, the text is reflecting code-mixing (or code-switching). This is the natural linguistic habit of bilingual speakers blending English and Hindi together in a single sentence, which is a hallmark of modern Indian English.

Thus, by doing a Spivakian comparativist study, we find ourselves equipped with the curiosity to see beyond the marken-driven shine and sheen of world literature, and engage with the crude realities of the regional in all its aura. By choosing planetarity over globalisation, we refuse to cut out the traumatic, localised voices of these writers.

In fact, Spivak challenges us to embrace this linguistic friction – the aura of the untamed vernaculars! And for this, again, we are forced to unlearn our privilege and meet Anne and Shree at their own regional soil, language and culture.

I would like to conclude this post with a memorable quote by Spivak -

Translation is the most intimate act of reading. I surrender to the text when I translate.

“I surrender to the text when I translate”. Here, the phrase “to surrender” means to set aside one’s own ego, one’s own preconceived notions, cultural biases, and the urge to impose one’s own logic onto the text. It is an act of humility where the translator stops trying to be the “master” of the meaning and instead becomes a receptive vessel to receive the text’s own unique voice!

How true!

PS: You may want to read our past post on Kitty’s adult counterpart Etty, HERE on our blog. 

On "Unlearning Privilege" | A Cross-Cultural Comparativist Study of Ben Jonson and Athol Fugard ❤️

Ben Jonson & Athol Fugard

A Spivakian Comparativist Study

#onhisbirthdaytoday

This is the era of Comparative Literature, said Spivak, in her engaging book titled, Death of A Discipline, published in the year 2003, advocating for a genuinely global “new comparative literature.”

Moreover, she warns her readers on the ‘translation trap’ that she feels, is purely a “market-driven push” for massive anthologies of world literature in translation. That’s because she feels that, relying exclusively on translations can flatten the cultural and historical specificities of texts, making them easily consumable while ignoring the power dynamics of that language she warns.

Spivak believes that the importance of comparative literature lies in its potential to foster ethical cross-cultural encounters without committing “interpretative violence”.

And this requires the ‘death’ of the discipline of comparative literature as we have long known it thus far, and the ‘birth’ of a “new comparative literature,” in which the discipline is reborn - one that is not appropriated and determined by the market!

Also, Spivak argues that the discipline must move beyond its Eurocentric origins and resist being commodified by market-driven “world literature” anthologies.

In this regard, she introduces the concept of “transnational literacy” - the ability to read and understand the world in all its complex differences without imposing uniform Western frameworks or capitalist norms!

And for this, the comparativist must necessarily “unlearn their privilege”, says Spivak. Which means, instead of imposing Western theoretical models onto Third World texts or relying on “native informants,” the comparativist scholar must engage in deep “languaging” - the rigorous and consistent effort of learning vernaculars to engage with marginalised voices on their own terms.

Finally, Spivak highlights on the importance of the study of literature. To her, the real study of literature is deeply tied to one’s ethical and political responsibility. By engaging with marginalised voices and reading texts from the Global South on a “level playing field” with European classics, the academy can prevent the voices of the oppressed from being silenced or misrepresented.

On this note, we shall now engage with marginalised voices and reading texts from the Global South on a “level playing field” with European classics by doing a quick comparative reading of Ben Jonson and Athol Fugard!

Both were playwrights born on this particular day, 11th June, 360 years apart – one is an European classic, while the other is from the Global South!

Ben Jonson was born on 11th June 1572, while Athol Fugard was born exactly 360 years later on 11th June 1932.

Jonson is a towering figure in English Renaissance theatre while Fugard is a towering figure in South African theatre, famous for his powerful, anti-apartheid works.

Both Ben and Athol used the stage for providing their audience with a biting social commentary of their time. And what’s more? Both acted in their own plays as well.

Both playwrights used the stage as a surgical tool to satirise and to dissect the vices and the immoralities of their respective eras.

As much water has flown under the bridge on Ben Jonson, me thought of highlighting a few salients on Athol Fugard for us all from Gale’s Encyclopedia of World Literature.

Here goes –

Fugard credits his mother with teaching him to view South African society with a critical eye.

By the 1930s, legal and social discrimination was firmly in place against South Africans of non-European ancestry. After slavery ended there in 1833, blacks were required to carry identification cards, and in the early twentieth century, the Native Land Acts of 1913 and 1936 prohibited blacks from owning land in areas of white residence.

Only 13 percent of the land in South Africa was put aside for blacks, though they formed 70 percent of the population.

By the 1930s, Afrikaners - the more uncompromising supporters of segregation than English-speaking whites - began using the term apartheid to refer to their ideas of racial separation.

As a white child growing up in a segregated society, Fugard resisted the racist upbringing offered him, but could not escape apartheid’s influence. He insisted that the family’s black servants call him Master Harold, and one day, he spat in the face of Sam Semela, a waiter in the Fugard boarding house, who was the best friend he had as a child.

Fugard moved to England in 1959 to write, but his work received little attention there, and he realised he needed to work in the context of his home country.

South African apartheid policies were firmly in place, and blacks, coloureds, and Asians (a racial category added to apartheid laws in the 1950s) were fully, legally segregated from whites.

When he returned home, he completed his first and only novel. Tsotsi (1980) concerns a young black hoodlum who accidentally kidnaps a baby and is compelled to face the consequences of his actions. Fugard tried to destroy the manuscript, but a copy survived and was published in 1980.

While finishing Tsotsi, Fugard wrote his break through play, The Blood Knot (1961). The idea came to him in 1960 after the Sharpeville massacre, when police killed blacks protesting the apartheid pass laws - a turning point for all South Africans.

The Blood Knot portrays the oscillating sense of conflict and harmony between two brothers born to the same mother. Morris has light skin and can pass for white. He confronts the truth about his identity when he returns home to live with his dark-skinned brother, Zach.

Fugard played the role of Morris himself. The play was first presented in 1961 to an invited audience. At that time, blacks and whites were banned from appearing on the same stage or sitting in the same audience.

The Blood Knot struck South Africa’s segregated culture like a bombshell. In 1962, Fugard supported a boycott against legally segregated theatre audiences.

Fugard is highly regarded by literary and theatre critics. Some have called him the greatest playwright of his era. He commands respect for his unfailing opposition to apartheid and for his sophisticated explorations of its subtly destructive effects. Critics have also appreciated his ability to elicit emotion without declining into melo drama.

Most South African drama, especially the nation’s lively alternative theatre, bears the stamp of Fugard’s work. His acclaim is greater outside his home country. In the United States, he is one of the most frequently performed living playwrights,

records Gale.

Now, dear reader, shall we now attempt a Spivakian Comparativist Reading choosing just one aspect of their works? 😊

According to Spivak, a comparativist scholar, must necessarily engage with the specific vernaculars and power dynamics of the languages used by the respective authors.

Taking this point into consideration, we find that, both playwrights were masters of the vernacular. However, they ‘used’ their respective ‘vernaculars’ for serving their own “political realities” of their era.

Jonson captured the slang, jargon, and street dialects of Jacobean London (especially of the puritans, thieves, merchants) to expose the hypocrisy and greed of a rapidly commercialising society, while Fugard captured the complex linguistic vernacular of South Africa - mixing South African English, Afrikaans, and the rhythms of indigenous languages.

By doing ‘deep languaging’, we can analyse these specific dialects carefully, and understand who holds power in these dialogues!

As such, we step aside from the vainglorious, cliched comparative approach of exalting them both as “clever English playwrights”.

And that’s the very essence of a Comparativist scholar, claims Spivak.

To sum up in the words of eminent critic Scupin Richards,

Trueblue ethical reading begins the moment we ‘step aside’, ‘unlearn our privilege’, and start listening to the voices of the vernacular in all its aura!

Transforming Tihar | How Empathy and Literature Forge Legendary IPS Officers ❤️

From Literature to Leadership

Kiran Bedi and the Power of the ‘English & IPS’ Combo

#onherbirthdaytoday

9th June 2026

Today, happens to be the birthday of the legendary Kiran Bedi – a woman who made history by becoming the very first woman to join the IPS – The Indian Police Service. In fact, she happened to be the only woman (in a batch of 80 men) to subsequently undergo rigorous police training, thereby shattering a massive glass ceiling in a heavily male-dominated profession!

Interestingly, Kiran Bedi holds a BA in English from Government College from Women, Amritsar, an MA in Political Science, Bachelors in Law from the University of Delhi, and a PhD in Social Sciences from IIT Delhi (focusing on drug abuse and domestic violence in society).

I personally loved the vibrant positivity in the title of her 1998 book titled, It’s Always Possible: Transforming One of the Largest Prisons in the World. The book documents the sweeping reforms that Kiran Bedi made during her tenure as Inspector General of Tihar Jail.

Well, as we all know, Tihar jail is one of the largest in the world spanning 200 acres, housing over 9,700 inmates - men, women, adolescents and children, including both Indians and foreigners. The inmates include unconvicted alleged offenders, convicts and remandees as well.

When Bedi arrived on the scene, the prison was a completely “rotten system” characterised by corruption on all sides, drug abuse, gang extortion, and pathetic living conditions for its inmates (including unhygienic food with insects and metallic residues).

How she transformed the prison system through her nuanced and humane approach to the inmates, forms the crux of the book.

In the initial chapter Kiran alludes to the initial situation within Tihar -

What I saw inside Tihar was captured with human concern integral to my duty. I was there to correct and not to accuse. The magnitude of the problem was enormous. It took me months. Institutions take their time to reveal, despite individual impatience. Tihar Jail tested my patience to the maximum, and ultimately did cave in for the inhabitants to call the same monument ‘Tihar Ashram’.

I took charge as Inspector General (Prisons) on World Labour Day (May 1) 1993, not really being able to fathom the magnitude of labour that would be required of me to negotiate the problems waiting behind the bars.

I had heard of the gory practices that continued unexposed beneath those searchlights. A whole world seemed to have been exiled behind those high walls with rusted frames.

It always seemed another world, banished behind those dead walls. I had heard about the gang wars, prisoners running extortion centres from within the prison, and tales of rampant corruption, violence and heart-rending tragedies.

But I was a soldier, duty-bound to take charge of this hell-hole,

says Kiran Bedi.

She strategically made a bold shift of perspective, from “accusation mode” to “correction mode”. And this shift from “accusation” to “correction” mode required actionable initiatives like education programmes, vocational training, and introducing daily prayers and yoga to combat laziness and despair among the inmates.

Kiran shows her readers the power of community involvement and community engagement by inviting the community inside Tihar. As a result, for the first time in 35 years, voluntary groups, including international health organisations and NGOs were brought in to provide counselling, medical aid, legal support, and entertainment to the inmates.

Moreover, Kiran promoted a vibrant internal community within the walls of Tihar by encouraging educated prisoners to teach literacy classes and actively involved inmates in improving their environment, such as participating in large-scale tree-planting and social forestry projects.

Also, Bedi was fully aware of the fact that, physical confinement without mental and spiritual rehabilitation breeds further criminality. With this in mind, she advocated the importance of structured mental health interventions for the inmates.

Finally, Kiran focuses on the vulnerable sections among the inmates, including women and children.

The book emphasises on the need for targeted welfare programs for these groups by initiating health and hygiene monitoring for children living in the prison with their mothers, starting educational creches, and fighting roadblocks to get bank accounts opened for working women inmates.

Just an excerpt on that note, from the book –

I moved to the women’s ward as if by instinct. I knew that the women would have been waiting for me. As I entered, all the women present in the courtyard rushed towards me, uninhibited and happy, cheering my visit.

Was this a homecoming?

The ward was a total contrast to that of the men. The women promptly sat around me, wanting to interact and hear what I had to say. They had taken it for granted that I would visit them. Looking at their faces, I felt they were my children and I had indeed come home for them. 

Each one, I sensed, needed a hand on her shoulder to help her cry out her grief and relieve herself of the agony within. Yet, all of them were putting up a cheerful appearance for my sake.

I asked them: “Do you read and write here?”

They said: “No.”

I said: “Would you like to?”

They said: “Yes.”

“Very good, we will study here, and before you leave, you shall be literate.”

They applauded in excitement.

My prayer with the men gave me the joy of seeing hope and acceptance; with the women, something pulled me from within. I had been ‘imprisoned’ - Tihar was going to be my destiny,

she writes. 

I’d personally suggest that you read the entire book, which I personally feel is a real leadership guide telling us that, even the most “condemned” institutions can be revitalised, through collective community action.

Added, I personally feel that, the English Literature & IPS Combo is in fact, one of the best combos for the Administrative Services.

That’s because literature is the world’s largest archive of human psychology in all its glory! In fact it is a living library of human character. By reading extensively through poetry, drama, and fiction, a student of literature has already encountered every facet of human emotions – including ambition, betrayal, grief, and desperation.

Hence, when an officer encounters a crime of passion, or a criminal fraud, they are essentially watching literature at work!

There are quite a lot of such English Literature & IPS combos in India. I would love to mention just a few notable ones here.

Shri K. Vijay Kumar, IPS, who is best known for heading the Special Task Force (STF) that successfully neutralised the notorious sandalwood smuggler Veerappan, did his BA & MA in English Literature in MCC.

Former IPS officer and CRPF chief K. Vijay Kumar
being conferred with the Padma Shri by the President of India

Shri K. Muthukaruppan, IPS, the former Director General of Police (DGP) and former Commissioner of Police for Chennai, did his BA & MA in English Literature in MCC.

Smt Manjari Jaruhar, IPS, Bihar’s first female IPS officer completed her BA in English Literature at Patna Women’s College, before clearing the Civil Services Exam.

Smt Meeran Chadha Borwankar, IPS, who served as Mumbai’s Joint Commissioner of Police (Crime) and Maharashtra’s Inspector General of Prisons, holds an MA in English Literature from DAV College, Jalandhar.

Smt Jija Madhavan Harisingh, IPS, was the first female IPS officer from South India. She completed both her BA and MA in English Literature at the University of Kerala and went on to hold various prestigious positions, retiring as Director General of Police (DGP) in Karnataka

Smt R. Sreelekha, IPS, was the first-ever female IPS officer in Kerala and the state’s first female DGP. Before joining the police force, she graduated with a BA in English Literature from the Government College for Women, Thiruvananthapuram, and completed her Masters in English at the Institute of English, University of Kerala.

And now for the ‘literary’ takeaway for today - 

Well, all these remarkable IPS officers (with special reference to Kiran Bedi IPS on her birthday today) 😊 have proved that when the profound empathy that they have learnt from literature is applied to their administrative responsibilities, the result is, as we all have witnessed - genuine, lasting human transformation!

And akin to Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice, they become a literary ‘Daniel come to judgment!’ 😊