The modern Indian academia is haunted by apocalyptic acronyms like CAS, NAAC, RUSA and not to mention that progenitor of endless eccentricities: UGC. What generates the spectral power of these acronyms is the nexus between money and paperwork to which are subjected young academics full of hope and promise and intellectual acuity who realise soon enough that the system only demands imitation, repetition and boundless vacuity. A college or university needs adequate infrastructure for a teacher to impart education properly to students. To that end it needs adequate financial grants. Hence the inevitability of NAAC and RUSA. But the teachers also need to lead a reasonably worry-free life to dedicate themselves to the project of learning and teaching. And s/he may have committed the blunder of having a family. So s/he needs money, and given the inflation in this country and the rising cost of medical assistance, food and accommodation, quite a lot of money. So s/he needs (and deserves) upward movement along the academic ladder popularly known as the promotion. Hence the relevance of CAS (Career Advancement Scheme). What binds these acronyms together is the demand for production of endless papers with different formats, immense data and repetitive hollow rhetoric of many kinds, all of which is supposed to justify either the distribution of money to institutions or to individuals. For example, anyone who has had to endure the pathetic farce that unfolds in the name of a NAAC (National Assessment and Accreditation Council) visit will know how the whole college is forced into a collective enterprise of fabrication, manipulation and concoction of data that covers almost everything from what percentage of SC/ST students were there in the college 5 years ago to what is being done by students who passed out from the college, some of whom did not even bother to attend the classes while they were there. And much of this conjuration happens through a process of duplication where one canny colleague smuggles in the SSR (another pesky bugger) of a college that has recently suffered NAAC and the current victim-to-be simply changes the name and the relevant data with what the former-victim has painstakingly (maybe not, may have been re-appropriated from the similar document from yet another co-suffering institution) fudged for months. As stated before all these translate into imitation, repetition and boundless vacuity. Something similar happens for CAS. One’s ability, dutifulness and accountability is measured through reams of paper congealed into an apparently fat file whose weight alone should impress prospective experts among whom one may even find associate professors or professors who have never qualified NET (National Eligibility Test) and have climbed the ladders of academic hierarchy with somnambulist stupefaction. None of these processes have anything to do with the pursuit and dissemination of knowledge which is supposed to be the essence of academia, or which should have been the guiding principle of academic life. Instead, teachers are forced more and more into immersing themselves in exhausting paper work. And they also have to sit idle for hours while waiting for students to arrive with proper papers during admission season. And they have to draft stale and perfunctory letters to different offices and departments for assistance during examinations. And they even serve as presiding officers during elections. None of this has anything to do with pursuit and dissemination of knowledge which alone should be the task of teachers. Academic institutions are supposed to be endowed with non-academic staff who should be able to take care of the other stuff as they are not professionally bound to pursue and disseminate knowledge – a task that requires single-minded devotion. While there is no denying that a group of people involved in teaching presently are incapable of such devotion and undermine the profession by dabbling in ten thousand other things, there has also been a systemic devaluation of the pursuit and dissemination of knowledge, mainly by clubbing it with other professions and by introducing alien mensurational methods based on quantification which are utterly incompatible with the academic vocation. The thrill that one feels when one learns something new or the ecstasy that courses through one’s veins when s/he is able to impassionately teach something and see the glint of recognition in the eyes of the audience – these are immeasurably precious experiences which cannot be identified through quantifiable data and attendant analysis. Teaching and the alchemic communication that takes place at times through teaching is a matter of affect, a visceral tripartite bond between the teacher, the student and the text which arouses wonder, stirs the intellect and motivates the heart to soar like the skylark into a Rushdie-esque sea of stories where multi-coloured strands of stories are merging and splitting into innumerable other strands of inexplicable hues. Teaching is supposed to be a plunge into such oceans where the teacher first guides and then allows the student to swim in his/her own style, with his/her chosen currents towards whatever shore he/she envisions. None of this is a matter of quantifiable data and mechanical procedures culminating in points/numbers/grades. But there is no daring prince in this land of cards who might shake things up with his defiant tunes and gestures.
Such absence is evidence of the total domination of instrumental rationality over the lifeworld of our societies. Since capital only moves through the abstract hyperspace of data, numbers, figures and performance models of one kind or another, the growing commercialization of the education sphere has meant a pervasive integration of the teachers with the rationality of capitalist domination and as an obvious outcome we have become shackled in a world of spectral mechanisms of control heralded by the notorious acronyms with which I began. The result of such control is the gradual transformation of teachers into a hybridised clerk whose greater qualifications only breed frustration and discontent as he/she remains chained to various forms of bureaucratic drudgery that clinically oppose that realm of freedom, innovation, experiment and affective bond which the academic world deserves and yearns for. Even the grand old Shantiniketan of Rabindranath is no exception to this process. Mercuse’s nightmare is coming true, the one-dimensional man is proliferating through the flatlands of Indian academia.
“Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me”.
Will these lines be our chorus then? Or will we dare to “bombard the headquarters” (figuratively, of course)?
One wonders if any other fictional character has enjoyed as numerous and diverse afterlives as Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes. While a rapid proliferation of Neo-Victorian literature post 1950 has witnessed the rebirth of marginal Victorian characters [such as Charlotte Bronte’s Bertha Mason as Antoinette Cosway in Jean Rhys’s Wide Sargasso Sea (1966), Dicken’s Magwitch as the eponymous hero in Peter Carey’s Jack Maggs (1997) to name a few], they are written in the vein of the Empire writing back, and provide an alternative version to the imperial parent texts by turning the peripheral figures into protagonists. However, the huge repertoire of parodies and pastiches that Sherlock Holmes enjoys, is singular and astounding.1 Even before the demise of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in 1930, the world of literature witnessed the birth of quite a few parodies and pastiches of Sherlock Holmes. J. M Barrie’s My Evening with Sherlock Holmes (1891) is the first parody followed by the pastiche The Adventure of the Unique Hamlet (1920) by Vincent Starrett. Conan Doyle’s relation with such reproductions of Sherlock Holmes was ambiguous. While Barrie earned his praise, he maintained his silence on the other parodies and pastiches, but refrained from granting his permission to the latter, if sought before publication.
After the death of Conan Doyle, the door was opened to writers from around the globe to rewrite and redefine Sherlock Holmes in new colours. Nicholas Meyer in The Seven Percent Solution (1974) pushes to periphery the detection skills of Holmes and instead focuses on his cocaine addiction, and blurs the boundary between fiction and fact by showing Holmes being treated by the historical figure of Sigmund Freud. Four years later was published Michael Dibdin’s The Last Sherlock Holmes Story, which exposes the darker side of the detective by showing him to be a perpetrator of the crimes that he solves, and the antagonist Moriarty as a fictitious invention of his insanity. To make a record of the numerous other pastiches is beyond the scope and aim of this article. However, what is relevant is the difference between two broad (and loosely arranged) categories of Sherlock Holmes pastiches: the first comprises those narratives that reveal different unspoken, or newly constructed, aspects of Holmes’s life, such as his weakness for drugs, his homosexual relation with Dr. Watson, or his wife who surpasses him as a more efficient (female) detective; the second category consists of narratives that try to fill up the gap of the years between his apparent ‘death’ at the Reichenbach Falls following a confrontation with his arch-enemy Moriarty in ‘The Final Problem’ and his subsequent reappearance in ‘The Adventure of the Empty House’. In ‘The Adventure of the Empty House’, Holmes tells Watson that following his apparent ‘death’, he “travelled for two years in Tibet . . . amused [himself] by visiting Lhassa” under the name Sigerson and thereafter “passed through Persia, looked in at Mecca, and paid a short but interesting visit to the Khalifa at Khartoum”.2 This little piece of information, left unexplored by Conan Doyle, is extremely interesting against his treatment of the Orient in the adventures of the detective. True to the imperialistic fervour of his age, he portrays the Orient, especially India, as a hotbed of crime, cold-blooded criminals, and a savage race in dire need of a colonial education of civilisation.3 Having had the East thus depicted, the question arises as to how did the sleuth negotiate with the topography, culture, custom and people of the Oriental spaces when he traverses them in person. That such a negotiation is contingent upon the writers of the Oriental pastiches, is evident from the widely differing treatment of the issue in Ted Riccardi’s The Oriental Casebook of Sherlock Holmes: Nine Adventures from the Lost Years (2003) and Jamyang Norbu’s The Mandala of Sherlock Holmes (1999). Riccardi’s collection of tales is based on the assumption that the British empire was losing its grip over the colonies, giving way to an outburst of murders and mayhem uncontrollable by the local authorities and the occidental figure of Sherlock Holmes was required to solve the crimes and establish order. Hence travels Holmes from Lhassa to Kathmandu, from Calcutta to the deserts of Rajasthan, all the while caught up in the diplomatic machinations of British imperialism that Rudyard Kipling dubbed “the Great Game”. Though Riccardi takes care to include local colours and customs in his tales, his rhetoric fails to break out of the colonial register. Hence, what is described of Calcutta, for instance, is its “native squalor”, the “humid pungency” of its climate, and the “unusual possibilities for crime and evil” that the city boasts of.4 The Indian Brahman is described as “swarthy”, or dark-complexioned, which explicitly reveals that Riccardi is complicit in the colonial discourse of race and colour. Also, while Riccardi’s Holmes has to take indigenous help, such as the aid of an Indian servant, or a knowledge of the Devnagri script, or an understanding of the deities of the Hindu pantheon (the Goddess Kali and the architecture of a Kali temple, for example, in ‘The Viceroy’s Assistant’), he nonetheless, remains largely distant from being absorbed in the Oriental atmosphere. Most of the crimes are traced back to England, and a number of them are solved in entirety only after Holmes’s return to London. Contrary to Riccardi, whose bridging of the ‘Great Hiatus’ is in line with the original imperial plots, that of Norbu is an unveiling of an Orient unseen by the Victorian British readers of Sherlock Holmes.
In The Mandala, Sherlock Holmes arrives in India as the Norwegian Sigerson following the conflict with Dr. Moriarty and immediately connects with a cast of characters borrowed from Rudyard Kiplings fictions. Among these, Hurree Chunder Mookerjee, the Bengali spy from Kim (1901), becomes a central figure, enacting the role of an (Indian) Dr Watson. In giving Hurree a physical agility that matches Dr. Watson’s and making him perform crucial acts, especially in the climax of the novel, Norbu subverts Kipling’s caricature of the obese colonised Babu. Norbu’s Holmes, in a series of adventures, dodges attempts on his life, solves an exotic murder, and journeys to Tibet, where he saves the young Dalai Lama from an assassination attempt masterminded by the still living Moriarty, now an agent for the Chinese. Norbu positions Holmes as having his Western rational certainties destabilised by encounters with Eastern mystical thoughts. In his narrative, the arch defender of rational observation accepts that in the enigmatic lands of the East, not everything could be analysed or understood by exercising the faculties of reason. Holmes and Moriarty are portrayed as enemies in two different but interconnected lives. Eighteen years ago, “The Dark One” and Gangsar of Tibet were two of the greatest adepts of the century at The College of Occult Sciences in Lhassa. The Dark One tried to kill the Grand Lama but ended up killing Gangsar who had rushed to save the Lama’s life. The Dark One was temporarily robbed of all his powers by the Grand Master of the College. It is later revealed that he has returned as the evil Moriarty to face Holmes into whose physical body was transferred the life forces of Gangsar by the yoga of “Pho-wa”.5 Working within a framework of Tibetan religion, history, and philosophy, Norbu’s Holmes becomes a part of the Orient. His meditative composure, celibate life, and keen observational powers can, therefore, be attributed to the life-force of an Oriental monk that he carries within him, making him an amalgamation of the East and the West. Unlike Riccardi, for whom the East merely serves as a backdrop where Holmes had spent his underground years, Tibet springs to life in Norbu’s tale. The Sherlock Holmes of 221 B Baker Street, is enmeshed in the history of Tibet, and at the close of the narrative is “attired in wine-red monastic robes, tall and imposing . . . accompanied by his disciples” standing at the monastery gate.6
- This article is limiting itself to a selection from among the printed parodies and pastiches of Sherlock Holmes. Apart from them, there are loads of rewritings of Holmes on web as well as on celluloid.
- ‘The Adventure of the Empty House’ in The Penguin Complete Sherlock Holmes. (Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1981), p.488.
- See for example, The Sign of Four.
- ‘The Viceroy’s Assistant’ in The Oriental Casebook of Sherlock Holmes: Nine Adventures from the Lost Years (New York: Pegasus Books). Ebook.
- Pho-wa is “the yoga of transferring the principle of consciousness from one incarnation to the next without suffering any break in the continuity of consciousness” (Norbu, 242).
- Jamyang Norbu. The Mandala of Sherlock Holmes (Noida: Harper Collins, 2008). p.259.
As I type this on a lazy Sunday morning, the hills that were supposed to be smiling, are actually burning and smack of gunpowder. Reports of fresh violence have trickled in and if some of my friends and acquaintances living in North Bengal and the Darjeeling district are to be believed, there has been a clampdown on Internet services. With a period of relative normalcy and peace in the last few years, the clamour for a separate state of Gorkhaland has found voice again. And this is not just a murmer or a whimper, it is slowly developing into a war cry.
Since the formation of the independent India, various states/ tribes have demanded autonomy. Some struggles have found success, like the creation of a new state in Telengana, some have seen bloodshed like the demand for Khalistan and some like the Gorkhaland movement have hung in a limbo for almost two decades. The Gorkhaland agitation seems to have been the culmination of decades of exploitation and a particular ethnic group being labelled, stereotyped and marginalised.It is independence from the state that this ethnic group sought and not from the country. The complaint was of years of neglect and domination by the Bengali population and intelligentsia, in matters of jobs and opportunities in the government and the private sectors.
In today’s Darjeeling however, the term Gorkha tends to be applied to all Nepali-speaking people. What unites them all is probably their common aversion to the Bengali majority. Despite their immense contribution to the country and society, the majority of the Gorkhas are still second rate citizens and live without any solid base of livelihood and adequate educational and developemental facilities. In the main industries of the Darjeeling district, Nepalis constitute the vast majority of the workforce, but are almost wholly absent from the ownership or management positions wich invariably have gone to the plainspeople.
The Gorkhaland National Liberation Front originally led the movement, which disrupted the district with massive violence between 1986 and 1988. The issue was resolved, at least temporarily, in 1988 with the establishment of the Darjeeling Gorkha Hill Council within West Bengal. The Gorkhaland movement distinguished Darjeeling Gorkhas from nationals of Nepal legally resident in India, from Nepali-speaking Indian citizens from other parts of the country, and even from the majority in neighboring Sikkim, where Nepali is the official language. The movement was emphatic that it had no desire to separate from India, only from the state of West Bengal. Gorkhaland supporters therefore preferred to call the Gorkhas’ language Gorkhali rather than Nepali, although they did not attempt to claim there is any linguistic difference from what other people call Nepali. The 1981 census of India, whether in deference to this sentiment or for some other reason, called the language Gorkhali/Nepali. However, when the Eighth Schedule of the constitution was amended in 1992 to make it a Scheduled Language, the term Nepali alone was used. It is to be remembered that in the past SubhasGhising had argued that Nepali was a foreign language and was terribly unhappy with its inclusion in the 8th schedule. This can be primarily traced back to the concern of the Indian Nepalese regarding their sense of belonging, for their long time concern has been to search for an appropriate term which would correctly situate them in the nation’s chronicles and distinguish them from the Nepalese born and originating from Nepal. Such was the vehemence that in 1991, the GNLF activists desecrated statues of BhanubhaktaAcharya, who was the author of the first major work of modern Nepali Literature, claiming that the statues honoured a foreign poet.
It’s the denial of basic amenities and the right to self identity and self-determination that has brought them to a point where many term them secessionist and it is the lack of inclusiveness, dialogue and underdevelopment that has ensured the stubbornness with which Gorkhas seek identity.As members of a sovereign secular country, it is a matter of great shame and concernthat its citizens have to demand for their rights with the national flag in their hands, lest they be construed anti- nationals. This blanket of fear has enveloped most parts of the country, and if the West Bengal government looks to continue to stave off fundamentalist divisive forces, which it has successfully done over the years, it has to ensure that there exists a platform for discussion and debate, without the fear of fear eyeing us all.
With other parts of the country still reeling under violence, seeking a separatist identity, with protests and marches and vigils being organised to voice support to particular communities under the threat of physical and psychological violence being inflicted upon them, it is a matter of concern that the greater section of the Bengali community/ Intelligentsia has chosen to remain silent about the unrest that has been growing in the hills. There has not been support, neither there has been condemnation. Part of the problem might be, that throughout the years, it has become embedded in our psyche to look at this particular community in the hills through a definite filter. I would also add that popular culture has been majorly responsible for the perpetuation of the stereotyped Nepali/Gorkha identity by visualising them as nothing more than soldiers in the army or watchmen/gatekeepers in the cities.To have these people suddenly clamouring for self-determination,is almost an affront to the Bengali sensibility. Moreover, Darjeeling and its neighbouring districts have been a favourite tourist spot for Bengalis over the years. The landscape and its beauty have been up there to be consumed, to be enjoyed, to be photographed, almost a passive docile terrain made by the gods for the plains-people to relax in. To have the majority of the population of that region up in arms against the hegemony of a dominant culture, whose bearers have little idea about the lives of the people in the hills, is a blister in the foot. What complicates matters further is that multidirectional political interests in the hills are leading several people to fish in muddy waters, especially with baits of evocative rhetoric which are often devoid of concrete plans for inclusive welfare.
So where do we go now? The fire has been stoked, people are dying. As it happens in most cases, in chess and in politics, the pawns (read the commoners) are sacrificed in calculated gambits and manoeuvres. If mutual restraint is the order of the day, what should also be on the table is a willingness to solve the impasse before more innocents are killed. Let there be a debate, a healthy one. Let people be aware not only of the geo-political landscape, but also of the convoluted and complex history of an ethnic group. Let there be more people writing about the situation, both for and against autonomy, let more people talk so that Darj might soon be ‘Healing’ from the wounds and scars of unrest and bloodshed. The Argumentative Indian and the Opinionated Bengali can surely make room for a contented Gorkha.
Directed by David Yates, 2016.
In 2007 the last novel in the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, was published. Yet ‘Pottermania’ refused to subside. The novels continued to be read and reread; the films were telecast on film channels, and before long the world had started clamoring for a fresh Potter story. It was, in many ways, inevitable that Rowling would revive the wizarding world, both in theatre and cinema. In August 2015 arrived a new play, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, breaking profit records in the world of theatre in both London and New York. In November 2016 Rowling further delighted her admirers with a new film, based on the Potter universe, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Based on an original story by Rowling, the film is set in 1920s New York and follows the adventures of a Magizoologist, Newt Scamander (Eddie Redmayne).
Unlike the Harry Potter novels, the protagonist is an adult and the wizarding world he inhabits is a darker and murkier universe than the familiar and much loved Hogwarts. The film opens with Newt (Eddie Redmayne) landing in New York in search of unusual magical creatures. However, his plans for exploration turn topsy-turvy when his briefcase full of fantastic beasts is exchanged with the case of an ordinary ‘No-Maj’ (non-magic people more familiar to Potterheads as muggles), Jacob Kowalski (Dan Fogler). Mayhem ensues as Newt’s magical beasts are let loose in New York where they wreck havoc. There are genuine and heartwarmingmoments of humor and entertainment as we see the bewilderment of Jacob, a laborer who dreams of owning his bakery, unable to believe the magical world he has been thrust into and the antics of Tina (Katherine Waterston) and Newt as they race to prevent damage by the magical creatures.
But interspersed with the humor and wonder of the magical world is violence, prejudice, hatredanddeath. Newt’s astonishingly wonderful magical menagerie is contrasted with the real 1920s New York cityscape. Rowling introduces into her fictional wizarding world a slice of historical fact, with the presence in of the ‘Second Salemers’, an obvious reference to the Salem Witches trial. The conflict between non-magic people and wizards and witches makes the film, in some ways, into a political allegory on the present day problems of intolerance and bigotry as well as the contemporary World War 1 scenario. The American equivalent of the British Ministry of Magic, Macusa, is an authoritarian organization, disallowing marital relationships between ‘No-Majs’ and witches and wizards, and outlawing all ‘dangerous’ magical creatures.
There are various kinds of surveillance methods used by the Macusa, a strong reminder of the Orwellian universe of the ‘Big Brother’. The film depicts a time of intense superstition and fear of magic, a time of witch hunts and Protestant Christian zealots like Mary Lou (Samantha Morton). Mary Lou captures young witches and wizards and imprisons them in her orphanage where they are subjected to the most brutal of torturous punishments. The cameo of young Modesty is chillingly frightening, with her rant of “Witch number three, gonna watch her burn, Witch number four, flogging take a turn”. Mary Lou’s cruelty leads to the suppression of magic in one of her children, Credence, who transforms into a grotesque ‘Obscurial’, possessed by angry energy to kill and destroy.
In the course of the film we discover that the recapturing of Newt’s magical creatures will only solve part of the threat to the city; far more dangerous is the threat posed by the ‘Obscurial’ (later revealed to be Credence) who may destroy New York and expose the wizarding world before the unsuspecting ‘No-Majs’. There enters into this grim setting Percival Graves (Colin Farrell), a power hungry Macusa official with an insidious agenda of his own. Added to all of these intrigues is the looming threat of the infamous dark wizard, GellertGrindlewald. The cinematic universe of Yates is spectacularly dazzling, similar to science fiction film sets with its array of fantastical creatures and its imaginary magical zoo, hidden in Newt’s briefcase. The magical creatures are marvelous to behold, from the cute little Niffler who loves shining objects, to the enormous Erumpent and the Thunderbird. The developing friendships and romances between Tina, Newt, Jacob, and Tina’s mind-reading legilimens sister Queenie (Alison Sudol) is depicted wonderfully, with little melodrama, in a touching and relatable style.
But the same world echoes with covert themes of the evils of prejudice and the destructive damage caused by racial preconceptions. The climactic scenes are grim to the point of verging on the gothic: Percival Graves is revealed to be Grindelwald in disguise and Credence is stopped just in time by Newt and Tina. However, Credence himself is destroyed through no fault of his; his anger being a result of the tortures inflicted on him (a stark reminder of the psychological damage suffered by orphans in the hands of social workers in the 1920-30s). In his swirling black coat, shaved head, hooked nose, Graves is disturbingly similar to the Gestapo soldiers. Rowling wisely choose Yates to direct the film as he is familiar with the Potter universe like no other. Rowling’s magical world comes alive at his hands, with the audience traversing an extraordinary imaginary setting, from the period sets of the city to the magical zoo of Scamander to the dark alleyways of New York slums to the Fanatical Churches and orphanages.
There are stellar performances rendered by the entire cast. Redmayne as Newt is perfect; he comes across with just the right combination of scatter-brained clumsiness, magical genius, and kind-hearted compassion. Fogler does complete justice to the character of Jacob, baffled, enamored, entranced by a world he can scarcely believe is real. The Goldstein sisters are both immensely likeable, the capable and ambitious Tina as well as the flirtatious yet charmingly manipulative Queenie. The first of a proposed five film franchise, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, is both entertaining and thought-provoking. The potterheads will certainly look forward to the next installments and the new initiates into the Potter universe may just start on the very thrilling journey of reading Rowling’s magnificent novels.