Gandhi and Tiger Woods: Animal Passion on the day Father Died?

Most Marathi newspapers, quite rightly, don't give a damn to Golf. Not even to Golf WAGS or Golf widows. (I wonder why they care about Tennis as much as they do.)

But even they couldn't resist this.

On December 14 2009, English newspapers reported: One of Tiger Woods's alleged mistresses says the superstar golfer was in bed with her the night his father, Earl, died on May 3, 2006.

I didn't know that Mr. Woods has been compared to Mahatma Gandhi.

Robert Wright said in Slate, July 24, 2000:

"...Earl Woods, pressed to justify his belief that his son could have greater humanitarian influence than Nelson Mandela, Gandhi, or the Buddha, explained that Tiger "has a larger forum than any of them. Because he's playing a sport that's international."...

...It is not crazy to suggest that Tiger Woods' discipline and unity of purpose—year-to-year, day-to-day, second-to-second—has been matched by only a few people, including Gandhi. Of course, the two men's goals differ. Gandhi was devoted to human understanding and world peace. Tiger is devoted to being the best ball-whacker ever. But give him time. Maybe he'll branch out."

Maybe he'll branch out. Maybe he will help solve Kashmir problem.

But today, if the allegations are true, a 'sorry' episode in Gandhi's life, and not human understanding or world peace, have brought them together.

Here is how Gandhi describes it in his autobiography or 'The Story of my experiments with truth' (1927):

"...It was 10.30 or 11 p.m. I was giving the massage. My uncle offered to relieve me. I was glad and went straight to the bed-room.

My wife, poor thing, was fast asleep. But how could she sleep when I was there? I woke her up. In five or six minutes, however, the servant knocked at the door. I started with alarm. "Get up," he said, "Father is very ill." I knew of course that he was very ill, and so I guessed what "very ill" meant at that moment. I sprang out of bed.

"What is the matter ? Do tell me !" "Father is no more." So all was over ! I had but to wring my hands. I felt deeply ashamed and miserable. I ran to my father"s room. I saw that, if animal passion had not blinded me, I should have been spared the torture of separation from my father during his last moments. I should have been massaging him, and he would have died in my arms. But now it was my uncle who had had this privilege...

...The shame, to which I have referred in a foregoing chapter, was this shame of my carnal desire even at the critical hour of my father"s death, which demanded wakeful service. It is a a blot I have never been able to efface or forget, and I have always thought that, although my devotion to my parents knew no bounds and I would have given up anything for it, yet it was weighed and found unpardonably wanting becuase my mind was at the same moment in the grip of lust.

I have therefore always regarded myself as a lustful, though a faithful, husband. It took me long to get free from the shackles of lust, and I had to pass through many ordeals before I could overcome it..."

Gandhi was a 'lustful, though a faithful, husband'. And Tiger?

James Surowiecki says in The New Yoker December 21, 2009:

"...In other words, Woods has been presented as the embodiment of bourgeois virtues: dedication, hard work, single-mindedness...

For millions of people—many of them, to be sure, affluent middle-aged white guys—Woods embodied an approach not just to golf but to life..."

Maybe this 'embodiment of bourgeois virtues such as dedication, hard work, single-mindedness' just slept in the wrong apartment. One more time...


Artist: P C Vey, The New Yorker, March 2008

Dilip Chitre, We'll always have Tukaram

Ashok Shahane: "Dilip Purushottam Chitre had to incarnate to tell even the poets here that Tukaram was a poet to the bone." [Napeksha, 2005]

(अशोक शहाणे: "तुकाराम हाडाचा कवी होता हे इथल्या कवींनाच सांगण्यासाठीसुद्धा दिलीप पुरुषोत्तम चित्रे अवतरावे लागले." (नपेक्षा))

It's hard to believe this but it is true. It's similar to explaining 20th century playwrights that Shakespeare was a playwright to the bone!

Chitre chooses this poem of Tukaram for the last section "Farewell to Being" (असण्याचा निरोप) in his book "Punha Tukaram" (पुन्हा तुकाराम).

सकळ ही माझी बोळवण करा ।
परतोनि घरा जावें तुह्मीं ॥1॥

कर्मधर्में तुह्मां असावें कल्याण ।
घ्या माझें वचन आशीर्वाद ॥ध्रु।॥

वाढवूनि दिलों एकाचिये हातीं ।
सकळ निश्चिंती जाली तेथें ॥2॥

आतां मज जाणें प्राणेश्वरासवें ।
माझिया भावें अनुसरलों ॥3॥

वाढवितां लोभ होइऩल उसीर ।
अवघींच स्थिर करा ठायीं ॥4॥

धर्म अर्थ काम जाला एके ठायीं ।
मेळविला जिंहीं हाता हात ॥5॥

तुका ह्मणे आतां जाली हे चि भेटी ।
उरल्या त्या गोष्टी बोलावया ॥6॥

I wonder if anyone else in the world has ever said such moving farewell words. Nice try Humphrey Bogart though.

(They remind me of my last meeting with my mother. I could never say it but 'Aai, We'll always have Miraj'.)

Following picture of great Saul Steinberg has appeared on this blog before. There I imagined that it depicted how Namdev (नामदेव) created the myth of Lord Vitthal.

Here I see: D P Chitre painting the image of his great forebear Tukaram, complete with a horn in his mouth, for anyone who could read either Marathi, English or German, and Tukaram in turn places a wreath on Chitre's head for a job well done!


Artist: Saul Steinberg, The New Yorker, Jan 6 1962

Dilip Chitre's Bhopal Gas Tragedy

How much does the brute force of history change the quality of an artist's output?

How much role did the famines of first half of 17th century play in Tukaram's life to make him what he became? How much did the tragedy of Bhopal affect Chitre, the artist?

Chitre's e-mail to me on August 6 2009:

"Dear Aniruddha,

...To compare Bhopal 1984 with Mumbai 26/11 is not wholly unproductive. Innocent citizens of Bhopal didn't know they were at war with the giant Union Carbide corporation and that both the Union and the State government had welcomed the huge plant.

I am too close to the tragedy as it mentally maimed my only son, probably made an impact on my daughter-in-law and their six months old foetus that survived the nightmare now 25 and healthy).

best,

Dilip Chitre

My mail, after his (last?) surgery, to which he was responding:

Dear Shri. Chitre,

Hope you have now fully recovered.

Sorry for this intrusion but here is a post on my blog, comparing Bhopal Gas Tragedy and Mumbai Attacks, I wanted to share with you.

http://searchingforlaugh.blogspot.com/2009/08/idea-of-justice-warren-anderson.html

best,

Dilip Chitre: Marathi speaking Leonardo da Vinci?

George Orwell on Mark Twain: "But most people who have studied his work have come away with a feeling that he might have done something more." (Mark Twain -- The Licensed Jester)

Chitre helped organise an event to observe the first death anniversary of Arun Kolatkar (अरुण कोलटकर) in September 2005.

I attended it.

It was an informal gathering, almost the exact opposite of the one I described earlier: Vinda Karandikar's book release function.

It was chaotic. A lot more younger people. Mobile phones kept ringing loudly the whole evening.

Number of people spoke on Kolatkar. Fighting back tears, I too piled on.

Maybe Kolatkar would have liked it that way! Chitre certainly seemed to enjoy!

There I saw a short-film made by Chitre on Kolatkar. It was made when Kolatkar was terminally ill.

Later I read someone complaining that Chitre didn't write something 'great' on Kolatkar when he died. He couldn't have. His creative juices had already oozed out in the form of the film.

Kolatkar will probably be remembered as a better poet than Chitre. I don't know why but I thought Chitre wanted to be a lot more than just a poet.

Sometimes I thought he was not entirely happy being just Tukaram's great follower. He wanted to be in Tukaram's league! Perhaps Marathi speaking Leonardo da Vinci?

He may not have succeeded but what an ambition! In Robert Browning's words:

"...He would not discount life, as fools do here,
Paid by instalment.
He ventured neck or nothing-heaven's success
Found, or earth's failure:.."

Chitre seemed to have almost given up writing poetry for a long time while Kolatkar sought new horizons with a masterly work like Bhijaki Vahi (भिजकी वही) in his final years. (Kolatkar himself was creatively very ambitious. He wanted to be a figure like Bob Dylan and learnt to play Pakhavaj in later years of his life.)

I thought they two were like Ritwik Ghatak and Satyajit Ray. You take your pick.

In the passing of this duo, Marathi culture has seen the fall of two citadels. Our rugged landscape is poorer for it.

Dilip Chitre and A Theory of Poetry

In September 2005, I wrote to Dilip Chitre:

"I recently came across "The Anxiety of Influence: A Theory of Poetry" by Harold Bloom which you may well know about.

In this Bloom has likened the modern poet to Satan in Milton's 'Paradise Lost'.

Just as Satan fought to assert his individuality by defying the perfection of God, so must the modern poet engage in an Oedipal struggle to define himself in relation to Shakespeare, Dante and other masters.

The effort is ultimately futile because no poet can hope to approach, let alone surpass, the perfection of such forebears. Modern poets are all essentially tragic figures, latecomers.

Bloom's "strong poets" accept the perfection of their predecessors and yet strive to transcend it through various subterfuges, including a subtle misreading of the predecessors' work; only by so doing can modern poets break free of the stultifying influence of the past.

...I realized how well you have explained this in relation to Marathi literature. Surely Keshvsut, Balkavi are probably not even "latecomers" vis-a-vis Tukaram and Dnyaneshwar. And we struggle to define even Mardhekar and Kolatkar - "latecomers" or not even that?..."

Chitre replied:

"Several years ago (1970), I wrote a monograph on Milton for a Gujarati series of books---Parichay Pustakavali.

I interpreted Milton's epic there in relation with Milton's sympathy and support for Oliver Cromwell, suggesting him that Milton's Satan was a puritan republican rising against the very idea of monarchy.

Your letter reminded me of that.

Thank you for your generous words for my introduction to Punha Tukaram..."

Dilip Chitre's Ardh Satya

Ardh Satya (1983) is a very good movie based on Shree Da Panwalkar's (श्री दा पानवलकर) story from the collection "Surya" (सूर्य).

(When I read the story, I thought the movie was better although the equation is not as uneven as that of the two versions of 'The Godfather', one by Mario Puzo and the other by Francis Ford Coppola.

Panwalkar wrote a book- 'Shooting' (शूटिंग) based on his experience with the making of the movie. I didn't much like this book. I expected the book to be more intense but I guess it reflects the essential chaos of making a Hindi film rather than what the final product conveys to us inside a theatre.

On the other hand, I have read elsewhere how Om Puri broke down and sobbed uncontrollably shooting a scene with Smita Patil. Ms. Patil pressed his hand to console him etc...)

Chitre has left an indelible stamp on the movie with his poem 'Ardh Satya'. It sets up the movie nicely.

एक पलड़े में नपुंसकता,
एक पलड़े में पौरुष,
और ठीक तराजू के कांटे पर,
अर्ध सत्य

Quality of these words reminds me of Shailendra and Sahir.

Evening of September 3 2003- Dilip Chitre followed by Vinda Karandikar

In September 2003, Dilip Chitre organized the release of VINDA KARANDIKAR’s (विंदा करंदीकर) the then latest book of poems -‘ASHTADARSHANE’ (अष्टदर्शने)- at ‘The Pathfinder’, Pune.

I was lucky to attend the event. It was like a Jazz concert.

Chitre's e-mail invitation said: "...This event is open to the public on a first-come-first-served basis and there are NO SEAT RESERVATIONS for the invited guests..." (Chitre was probably the most technology-savvy Indian artist of his generation. More on this in future posts.)

I sat in the first row. No one asked me to move.

Chitre made a small but moving speech where he compared Vinda to Sant Eknath(संत एकनाथ).

I though how appropriate considering Eknath's:

"जगाचिये नेत्री दिसे तो संसारी, परी तो अंतरी स्फटिक शुद्ध" ("In the world's eyes he looks ordinary married man but inside he is crystal pure.")

That was followed by reading by Vinda of his selected ‘reflective’ poems. The poem based on imaginary meeting of Tukaram and Shakespeare was among them. (Go to the end of this post to read it in Marathi in full.)

After the event I congratulated Chitre on the wonderful event. He just shrugged.

[The only jarring note in the entire function came from Dr. Sadanand More सदानंद मोरे, highly respected scholar of Tukaram, who presided over the function.More trashed British philosophers saying they were deservedly not included by Vinda.

It was unnecessary.

According to Schopenhauer, "There is more to be learned from each page of David Hume than from the collected philosophical works of Hegel, Herbart, and Schleiermacher taken together." (source- Wikipedia)]

Albert Einstein wrote that he was inspired by Hume's positivism when formulating his Special Theory of Relativity. (source- Wikipedia)

Immanuel Kant wrote that David Hume aroused him from dogmatic slumber. (source- "Stray Dogs" by John Gray)

Schopenhauer, Hegel, Kant are among Vinda's chosen eight while Hume is not.)

Returning to Chitre on Vinda, what he didn't say in the speech but said on his blog, on Vinda's 90th birthday:

"...August 23 is the birthday of Vinda alias Govind Vinayak Karandikar. Today he is exactly ninety years old. I spoke with him a little while ago on the phone as he is one of my many 'Gurus' in poetry as well as in life. I reviewed his second collection of Marathi poems in 1954 when I hadn't yet graduated from high school. My review was published by the then leading Marathi cultural weekly Mouj.

Vinda was so excited by my appreciation of his poetry that he wrote me a postcard using every millimetre of its scant space and invited me to see him in person at his residence in Mahim, a suburb of Mumbai. In the event we met, he a person twenty-one years older than me, and I just deciding that poetry and the fine arts were my true vocation. I took admission in the Ramnarain Ruia College in Matunga, Mumbai where he had recently joined as a lecturer in English.

For my B.A. I chose English Literature as my major subject. Vinda taught us English prosody for our Honours degree. He came from the Konkan coast of Maharashtra and his English accent was influenced by his Marathi dialect. Students who came from English medium schools made fun of him for his quaint English accent and his whimsical style of teaching. But they also held him in awe partly because his grasp of prosody and partly because of his booming voice that went far beyond the classroom.

As a reader of poetry from a platform---whether in Marathi or in English---Vinda is unique. He is a performer who browbeats his audience with a thundering and sometimes melodramatic voice. Quite theatrical, he injures his own tender and delicately nuanced phrases and lines with an aggressive pitch and volume. However, he is loved by Marathi audiences and readers, and when he recently won the Jnanpith Award the whole of Maharashtra was ecstatic.

A.K. Ramanujan, Ramesh Sarkar, and Vilas Sarang have translated some of his poems into English; as have I, and Arun Kolatkar, though Kolatkar's translations cannot, unfortunately, be traced.

I wish him a long life. He would be able to use it well. He has donated the amounts received as literary awards to ngos and individuals doing social work. The longer he lives, the longer they all will be able to work in the public interest!"

विंदा करंदीकर:

तुकोबांच्या भेटी । शेक्सपिअर आला ।।
तो झाला सोहळा। दुकानात.
जाहली दोघांची । उराउरी भेट
उरातलें थेट । उरामध्ये
तुका म्हणे "विल्या। तुझे कर्म थोर;
अवघाचि संसार । उभा केला।।"
शेक्सपीअर म्हणे । एक ते राहिले; ।
तुका जे पाहिले विटेवरी."
तुका म्हणे, "बाबा ते त्वां बरे केले,
त्याने तडे गेले। संसाराला;
विठठ्ल अट्टल, । त्याची रीत न्यारी
माझी पाटी कोरी । लिहोनिया."
शेक्सपीअर म्हणे । तुझ्या शब्दामुळे
मातीत खेळले । शब्दातीत
तुका म्हणे गड्या । वृथा शब्दपीट
प्रत्येकाची वाट । वेगळाली
वेगळिये वाटे । वेगळिये काटे;
काट्यासंगे भेटे । पुन्हा तोच.
ऐक ऐक वाजे । घंटा ही मंदिरी।
कजागीण घरी । वाट पाहे."
दोघे निघोनिया गेले दोन दिशां
कवतिक आकाशा आवरेना ।

दिलीप चित्र्या, भेंचोद, तू खेचलस मला तुकारामाच्या दलदलीत

One of the best books ever written in any Indian language is "Punha Tukaram" (पुन्हा तुकाराम) by Dilip Purushottam Chitre (दिलीप पुरुषोत्तम चित्रे), 1990.

After reading it, I was hooked onto by Marathi poet-saints. There would be no escape from it since. I realised what I had missed in my earlier years.

And therefore I say: "Dilip Chitrya, sister-fucker, you dragged me into Tukaram's quagmire." ("दिलीप चित्र्या, भेंचोद, तू खेचलस मला तुकारामाच्या दलदलीत.")

Don't be appalled by the profanity.

I am just paraphrasing what Chitre himself famously wrote in the first line of a poem at the age of seventeen:

"Tukaram vanya, sister-fucker, you dragged me into quagmire of Marathi language." (तुकाराम वाण्या, भेंचोद, तू खेचलंस मला मराठी भाषेच्या दलदलीत.)

For an ordinary man like me Tukaram was up there. Chitre let me climb over his shoulders and allowed me to have a good look at him.

Thank you, Chitre-sir. The view(दर्शन) will last for the rest of my life.

For other posts, from this blog, on Chitre, who passed away on December 10 2009, click here.

I have had number of interactions with Chitre. Less in person, more in cyberspace. More on them later.

घुमट मशिदी मनोहर

For last few Monday nights, I have watched, on National Geographic Channel, six-part series 'Apocalypse: The Second World War'.

It's gruesome.

If there was any pride left in me at being borne a human instead of a cockroach, it's now purged. (I say a roach and not a spider. Why? Read here)

No wonder Stefan Zweig committed suicide.

Has all of Europe learnt the right lessons from the war?

Switzerland voters recently approved a constitutional ban on the construction of minarets on Muslim places of worship.

So technically, the Swiss can't have The Taj Mahal!

PETER STAMM wrote on Dec 5 2009 NYT:

"...We Swiss sacrificed our good standing as a multicultural and open-minded society to ban the construction of minarets that no one intends to build in order to defend ourselves against an Islam that has never existed in Switzerland..."

Some Swiss think minarets look like missiles.

Instead of Jaundiced eye, we should now say Swiss eye!


Although to our eternal shame, we Indians brought down the Babri Mosque in 1992, I am happy to note that no rabid Hindu fundamentalist has asked for something as crazy as a ban on the construction of minarets.

A lot of things are, these days, said and done to minorities, in the name of Shivaji, who was one of the most tolerant and cultured ruler the world has known. The capital of his kingdom was Fort Raigad and the temple of Jagdishwar is located there.

D G Godse writes: "Builders of Jagdishwar temple on Raigad did not feel shy of employing Islamic architecture in its construction..." ('shakti soushthav', 1972)

(द ग गोडसे: "रायगडावरचे जगदीश्वराचे मंदिरसुद्धा थाटघाटात यावनी दर्ग्याच्या घराण्याचे दिसते ते मंदिराला दर्ग्याचा घाट देण्यास, मंदिर बंधणारांना त्या काळी कोणताही संकोच वाटला नाही म्हणून..." 'शक्ति सौष्ठव', १९७२)


Jagdishwar Temple, Fort Raigad

The Taj (completed c1653) and Jagdishwar temple were built around the same time. In a letter to D G Godse, I asked him: "When Shivaji visited Agra in 1666, he most likely saw The Taj. If he did, what did he likely think of it?".

Godse felt The Taj and Raigad were very beautiful in their own way. A sensitive person like Shivaji would have appreciated the beauty of both.

For me, mosques and minarets were never eyesores. On the other hand, perhaps like Samarth Ramdas (समर्थ रामदास), I have found "domes, mosques pleasing" (घुमट मशिदी मनोहर).

My native Miraj had plenty of them.

In winter, at dawn, I liked azan (the Islamic call to prayer) as much as early morning devotional singing (काकड आरती) that was done in the nearby Vithoba temple or Bhakti-sangeet that my mother tuned into or the sound of train whistle that proved the Doppler effect.

Much before I saw the Taj, as a 13-year old when I saw Gol Gumbaz of Bijapur, I was awestruck.


Gol Gumbaz, Bijapur

Pu Shi Rege, a Yaksha, Leads Upward and On

Vasant Sarwate (वसंत सरवटे) spoke very warmly about him in November 2009 when he visited us.

Ashok Shahane says: "...imposed dejection has not touched his poems." [Napeksha, 2005] (अशोक शहाणे: "...बळजबरीने लादल्या गेलेल्या निराशेचा ह्यांच्या कवितेला स्पर्शही झालेला नाही." [नपेक्षा])

I am talking about Pu Shi Rege (पु शि रेगे) whose birth centenary falls next year.

(btw- Year 2009-10 is rich with centenaries. Watch this space for my favourites Baburao Arnalkar बाबूराव अर्नाळकर, N G Kalelkar ना गो कालेलकर & D K Bedekar दि के बेडेकर to make maiden and Durga Bhagwat दुर्गा भागवत & Setu Madhavrao Pagadi सेतु माधवराव पगडी to make one more appearance on this blog.)

I have just finished reading, for the first time, his novella 'Matruka' (मातृका),1978.

I found it quite good, certainly the part that takes place in India i.e. first 39 of 70 chapters spanning 80 of 136 pages.

I wish I read it in my adolescence. Very sensuous. In any case, for me: a cigar is never just a cigar!

Vilas Sarang (विलास सारंग) has written an excellent but not very favourable review of it in two essays that are included in his book: 'aksharaanchaa shram kelaa', 2000 (अक्षरांचा श्रम केला). (Sarang has helped me a lot in my quest to access literature. Some of it has already appeared on this blog earlier. More will come later.)

Rege's dedication reads:

"Das Ewig-Weibliche
Zieht uns hinan."
Goethe, Faust II

Thanks to Google, I now know the meaning:

"Eternal womanhood
Leads upward and on."

D G Godse (द ग गोडसे) wrote an essay on Pu Shi Rege after his death: '...Ek Yaksha' (...एक यक्ष), included in his book 'Nangi Asalele Phulpapharu' (नांगी असलेले फुलपाखरू), 1989. (Read more about Godse's book here.)

Godse and Rege worked together on the team that produced Marathi magazine Chhand (छंद) which was dedicated to the subject of arts. Like most Marathi magazines, it died long ago.

Going by Godse's description of how a typical issue of Chhand was produced, it must have been exhilarating stuff...reminding us of what John Maynard Keynes has said: "...nothing mattered except states of mind... timeless, passionate states of contemplation...one's prime objects in life were love, the creation and enjoyment of aesthetic experience and the pursuit of knowledge. Of these, love came a long way first...We were among the last of the Utopians...we repudiated all versions of original sin...”

Godse thought Rege was a Yaksha who inhabited the earth for a few years before he went back to his abode...to once again return to the earth.

"...ते एक यक्ष आहेत. यक्ष गंधर्वांची सवेंदनक्षमता अशी सूक्ष्म असते असे म्हणतात. बांध्याने स्थूल पण तेवढेच चपळ. आकाराने ठस-ठोम्बस तेवढेच सूक्ष्म... आणि सालस, भाबडे तेवढेच मिश्किल. लेण्यांतून तथागतांच्या अथवा देवाधिदेवांच्या भोवताली असलेल्या गर्दीतून हळूच डोकवाणारे. कधी आकाशातून पुष्पवृष्टी करणारे, कधी कमलनाल तर कधी चवरी धरलेले, कधी मृदंग घुमाविणारे तर कधी वीणा छेडणारे. कधी भीक्कूंच्या मेळाव्यात तर कधी शिवगणांच्या गर्दीत. असे हरकामी आणि बहुरूपी. स्वछंदी आणि अनंतफंदी! लेणी पाहताना सहसा त्यांच्याकडे कोणाचे लक्ष जात नाही, पण जवळ जाऊन न्याहाळले तर त्यांचे अनोखे मिश्किल व्यक्तिमत्व चटकन मनात भरते.

आज वाटते, याच यक्ष-गन्धर्व-विद्याधरांतला एक काही वर्षे आमच्यात राहून परत आपल्या लेण्यात गेला...कधी काळी पुन्हा परत येण्याकरिता."



Although, I have embedded this beautiful image of a Yaksha here, I wish I did better.

Godse's essay talks about the portrait he did of Rege. The portrait apparently hung very proudly in Rege's house for a number of years. I don't know if I will ever get to see it.

'Matruka''s back-cover carries Rege's photo. The image reinforces Godse's contention of his resemblance to Yaksha but I wish it carried Godse's portrait instead.

Do we love our artists enough?