Book of the week

 

 

Title: Man and Superman and Three Other Plays
Playwright: George Bernard Shaw(1856- 1950)

 

“My way of joking is to tell the truth. It’s the funniest joke in the world,” stated George Bernard Shaw. That is exactly what he does in all his writing…tell the truth as he perceives it. And most of it is really funny.

In Man and Superman, you have a writer of The Revolutionists Handbook and probably Shaw’s mouthpiece, John Tanner; a woman full of vitality who is in pursuit of a husband, Ann, and a bunch of English ladies and gentlemen with a couple of Americans, French and Spanish thrown in. Tanner has been appointed a guardian of Ann and her sister by her father, who has just passed on. He tries to rebel and run away from Ann. She is bent on marrying him.

Tanner, a believer in Life Force, sets out on his motor with his driver and ends up getting kidnapped by a brigand, Mendoza, who talks of working in office hours, socialism and his love with a passion. Mendoza, an ex-savoy waiter, has become a socialist kidnapper after being disappointed in love. He and his gang have Robin Hood-like pretensions. They rob rich motorists (as only the rich could afford cars at the turn of the nineteenth century when this play was written) and give to the poor, they say… They do not use guns or knives but throw nails on the roads and puncture the tyres. Then they capture the motorists and demand a ransom.

Ann follows literally in another car and they are rescued by soldiers. Tanner rescues Mendoza from the law by claiming that the troop of brigands are his companions, which in a sense thet are as they are all socialists at heart. Ann finally wheedles Tanner to marry her.

The most interesting part of this play in my opinion is the time Tanner spends with Mendoza as his captive. The dialogues and situation are witty and hilarious. Mendoza is a philosopher of sorts as are his crew,which includes anarchists and social democrats. Mendoza is also a poet who bores the party to sleep with his love poetry, literally. They all have a strange, allegorical dream of afterlife in hell. The Devil resembles Mendoza and is a lover of fine life. He has walked out of heaven voluntarily. The other characters in the dream are Don Juan, who resembles Tanner, The Statue, who resembles Ann’s father and Ana, who resembles Ann.

The Statue, who has been designated to heaven has taken a transfer to hell as he finds heaven tedious. Don Juan, bored by the pursuit of fine life in Earth and hell, is thinking of a transfer to heaven, which is filled with uninteresting philosophical people. Don Juan thinks the pleasures are a mirage. He is more interested in pursuing the contemplation of Life Force, the passion which drives men. Most people who are contemplative prefer heaven. Ana, who has just died and been sent to Hell wants to go to heaven as she feels it is virtuous to do so and ultimately in quest for the right father for the Superman. The concept of Life Force and Superman as opposed to an erring, fallible man are discussed in the dream sequence. Tanner also observes;

“That(art, culture etc) is the family secret of the governing caste; and if we who are of that caste aimed at more Life for the world instead of more power and luxury for our miserable selves, that secret would make us great.”

Written more than a century ago, I think this observation is valid in the present day context too.

The other three plays, Mrs Warren’s Profession, Candida and Devil’s Disciple are shorter, very Shavian in their perceptions and humour. Each one has a protagonist who perceives the world a little differently from others, who looks beyond money, culture and art to something more vital. Each of these characters are unconventional in their thought process and bring out the decadence of certain social norms.

Mrs Warren’s Profession is to do with prostitution, Candida with middle class morality and romance, Devil’s disciple, set during the American War of Independence, is to do with a man’s sudden discovery of goodness and leadership in himself…if I may, I would like to say getting in touch with the Superman in himself.

My favourite out of these four is Man and Superman. I find the banter between Tanner and the other characters really amusing and interesting.

Shaw is perhaps best known for his play Pygmalion, which was made into My Fair Lady, a hollywood classic with Rex Harrison and Julie Andrews. He had been awarded the Nobel Prize for literature in 1925 and the academy award for best screenplay( for My Fair Lady) in 1938.

Perhaps, a revival of his values and thought process might make this world a happier place to live in… His plays are like sunshine, witty, bright, cheerful, warm, honest and happy…a wonderful read for all and sundry.

The impossible

Making Utopia

It is time to ride a rainbow, to swim through the sky,
To surf the clouds till one feels oneself fly….
Over the towns and over the meadows
Zooming in and out of golden shadows.
Now on a skateboard, I slide
Into a golden sunrise,
Speeding, fast, flying, flying
Till I lose the self in trying.
The effort hurts every bone.
I feel myself soar
Beyond the life force.
I see two enormous doors
Open to a plethora of bright lights
Dancing, singing, creating flights
Of fanciful delights….
I have arrived in the land
Where every grain of sand
And every drop of the sea
Stretch to create a new reality
That reaches out to you and me
And takes us beyond impossibility,
Making the unreal,real
This is the dream, the ideal.

Book of the week

 

Title: Nineteen Eighty-four
Author: George Orwell

Nineteen Eighty-four is a well-known and much-read classic by George Orwell published in 1949. It is a post World War scenario. Life is ruled by poverty, fear and hatred. In reality, the year 1984 has come and gone and we still have the old order of things. Have we actually evaded all the realities faced by the post World War society projected in the novel?

In the novel, as an outcome of the World Wars, the world has been divided into three parts, Oceania, Eurasia and Eastasia. Each zone has the same ideology but the ideology is given a different name by the political party that runs the show in that region. To retain power, the three regions always play at being at war. People are obsessed with hating their enemy and bringing them down. Citizens of each zone are kept apart so that none discover that all mankind thinks in the same way.

“Even the official ally of the moment is always regarded with darkest suspicion. War prisoners apart, the average citizen of Oceania never sets eyes on a citizen of either Eurasia or Eastasia, as he is forbidden the knowledge of foriegn languages. If he were allowed contact with foreigners he would discover that they are creatures similar to himself…”

Winston Smith, the protagonist, finds it difficult to conform to the ideology which is summed up in three slogan-like statements:
 

                                  War is Peace
                            Freedom is Slavery
                          Ignorance is Strength

He also commits the error of falling in love with a woman called Julia. The Thought Police tracks them, breaks them up, brainwashes them and kills them at the end. When the prisoners are annihilated in mind and spirit and love only  Big Brother, the supreme leader of Oceania, are they allowed freedom through death. Winston’s spirit is finally broken and crushed after years of torture and brainwashing and he looks forward to his annihilation at the end.

It is a society based on ‘hate’. The emotions encouraged by the party are “fear, rage, triumph, and self abasement”. The politicians or the power brokers of the three states encourage these emotions and an endless war to keep people busy so that they can retain their own power, supremacy and wealth. They live in luxurious homes, with cars and servants, whereas the rest live in squalid conditions ruled by terror.

History is re-written to suit the party needs. The past is said to be mutable and is changed often to set up the realities the politicians want to project. Buildings and roads are all re-named beyond recognition. No one knows what happened before the party took command. People have been terrorised into having short-term memories. So, if the enemy switches from Eurasia to Eatasia, all the newspapers and journals of the earlier times are re-written. People suffer from hunger and shortages as during wars. To maintain ‘peace’, a state of war is maintained all the time in all the three regions.

The power brokers of the three regions have given three different names to the same ideology and have created barriers of culture, language and hatred to keep the citizens apart. People of each zone hate the citizens of the other regions and can tear apart their ‘enemies’ with their frenzy of hatred and anger. They celebrate ‘hate’ week. The identity of the enemy is immaterial. They just need someone to vent out their anger born of hunger, frustration and fear.

Children spy on parents. They are bred on violence…their entertainment involves watching people hang, beating up people, betraying adults. Blood and gore and squalid living is the norm of such a society. Beauty and  nobility have been eradicated from this society. All history and literature from the past has been wiped out. The fabric of family and decency have been completely demolished. It is in my view a terrifying book. In certain ways, the catharsis we experience after coming to the end of  the book, would inspire us on to reaching out for the positives around us. I would say it is a must read in today’s conflict-riddled world.

Sometimes one wonders if the terror which has started invading a large part of the world, our obsession with borders, the flux of refugees, the anger and helplessness of people is bringing Orwell’s nightmarish vision closer home to us…

The Creators

3

The bubbleverse was of a strange material, supple yet very strong. It felt steady inside the bubble, just as if they were still in Jacinth’s world in some beautiful resort. The ground was covered with bright green grass. The foliage was lush and gave way to the sea, which was a deep purple in color. There were bubbly-looking, multi-coloured flowers on the plants. Some of them looked like they had trapped the colours of the rainbow. Jacinth, Jasmine and JaJa could hear distant voices conversing in English.

The voices drew closer. Jacinth, Jasmine and JaJa hid in nearby bushes. Soon, they saw two ‘persons’ pass by. They were laughing and had pinkish skins and bubbles instead of hair. But, the bubbles seem to be solid. One had yellow bubbles and the other, turquoise.

“Wow!” said Jacinth.

“Sh…” whispered Jasmine with fingers to her lips. “I do not know how they will react to our appearance as they have no concept of a multiverse. So, pipe down.”

“ Then how will we find the person you are looking for?” said Jacinth.

JaJa was sitting quietly and looking around. She seemed a little intimidated by the surroundings.

“Let the local inhabitants go off. Then we will talk,” said Jasmine. “For heaven’s sake let us stay quiet now.”

It was a lonely beach by all standards. Everything seemed the same, except for the foliage, which had far more vibrant colours.

As the voices faded away, there was silence. Only the lap of waves and strange birdcalls interrupted the quiet. Jasmine looked at Jacinth and JaJa.  Jasmine ran out warily and checked the surroundings. Then she said: “I think it is safe to talk now.” Promptly JaJa started muttering in her language. Jasmine turned to her and she seemed to soothe down.

Jacinth asked, “ So, how do you calm her?”

“I use thought waves to communicate with you and JaJa. So, I do not need words. I only use them with you while talking because you are not used to using telepathy. But coming to your older question, Jolyn, our bubbleverse self, has been getting dreams similar to yours. I have been projecting ideas into her head. I am expecting her to come to the beach tonight. I have projected the thought of gazing at their moon and writing poetry. Here the moon seems to have some amount of distortion as the light passes through the membrane of the bubble. You will also notice that the plants are more lush and the pigmentation of the local inhabitants is lesser as the harmful parts of solar radiation get filtered out by the surface of the bubble.”

“That’s interesting!” said Jacinth. JaJa seemed to be listening with understanding too.

She asked something strange to Jasmine pointing at her mouth. Jasmine replied, “We can find food in the woods and I have chocolate and candy in my backpack for you.” She delved into her bag and dug out some chocolates for JaJa. JaJa hummed with happiness and started drooling and singing in anticipation of the treat. While she unwrapped the candy, Jasmine continued, “I have pinged ourselves to a lonely beach because it is difficult to merge here with the local population. Hopefully, no one else will come here this evening.”

“The bubbleverse was an ecological experiment by the creators to see if we could survive inside an artificially created bubble. The surface has enough pores to let in natural air. In a way, the experiment succeeded but created a different biological species from us and our plant and animal kingdom because the light and air were both filtered through the membrane of the bubble. The bubbleverse was a reaction against pollution in some of the other dimensions. They have no large-scale industries here and no countries. The total population is about ten thousand. Most live up to the age of hundred and twenty!”

JaJa again seemed to be listening. Jasmine was surprised, “Does she understand you?”

“I am projecting my thoughts telepathically to her as I communicate with you,” said Jasmine.

“Can you communicate with me telepathically too?” Asked Jacinth.

“ I should be able to if you keep your mind open.”

“What exactly do you mean by keeping ones mind open?”

“Well, you need to believe in your heart you can communicate through telepathy. See, the belief comes easily to a primitive like JaJa as she has lesser of preconceived notions. But to you, conditioned by education, a sense of limitations sets in … though I must say you have a smaller sense of limitations or preconceived notions than most other humans.”

“Then, will I be able to ever communicate telepathically?”

“Why not? It is after all only a conditioning of the mind. Just try to catch others’ thoughts… Perhaps you can start with JaJa. Try to understand her thoughts whenever she mutters something.”

“That’s a great idea. I love the idea of stretching my mind to different dimensions!” exclaimed Jacinth.

“That is what the creators do. I believe most creatures can do that if rocks and plants can harmonise their thoughts in the creative dimensions. We can empathise and communicate with each other but still maintain our privacy. I want to prove to the creators that such an existence is more desirable than having ones thoughts read by everyone all the time. Blocking should come naturally too. So, instead of talking you can project your thoughts to the person you want to communicate with however far the person is.”

“Unfortunately, the creators do not like my idea of sharing telepathic communication with other dimensions and of privacy of an individual. I want to be able to live in harmony beyond the borders of dimensions. I believe in it. That is why I am gathering all of ourselves together because each one of us will hopefully have a stronger ability to stretch the mind than others of the species each one belongs to. JaJa and you do.”

“Wow! Fascinating! By the way, how much longer do we need to wait for our bubbleverse self?” asked Jacinth.

“We have to wait for the moon to be up. We can eat now,” answered Jasmine.

“What do we eat?” Asked Jacinth.

“We can eat some of the fruits from these trees. They are quite filling,” said Jasmine.

Jasmine and Jacinth plucked some huge pink and yellow fruit that tasted like banana, pineapple and strawberry rolled into one.

The sky was turning orange. Soon it would be dark. The girls waited in the bushes to be safe. No one came. Soon the moon rose. It looked pale blue with mysterious shadows around it. The stars were even more blurred. You could barely see them. The waves sloshed on the beach. The strange bird calls had stopped. It was eerily silent except for the sounds from the sea. The three girls sat huddled behind some bushes. Suddenly, they sat up. They could hear a strange sound. They peeped out of their hiding and saw distant figures of a girl and a boy. There was a jingling sound as they walked.

Could it be Jolyn? Who was the other person with her? Jasmine had asked her to come alone….

 

Book of the week

Title: The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
Author: Omar Khayyam(1048 to 1141)
Translator: Edward Fitzgerald(First edition 1859)

The reason I decided to write on the Rubaiyat is because I feel the verses stir my heart and soul.

In my twenties, when talking existentialism was fashionable, I tried to link Khayyam’s poetry to the post world war philosophy. I found strains of nihilism in it…anything that I was looking for. Now, at fifty, I find wisdom and truth in it and catch glimpses of a borderless world, where humanitarian concerns have become a major issue.

Perhaps if we all believed in the things he says, there would be no wars, no peace keeping forces and no soldiers. It is truly ironic that we have to live in a world where they need to use cannon fodder, soldiers, weapons and destruction to maintain peace. Where has old Khayyam’s world disppeared? In one of his best known verses, he says

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,

A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse—and Thou

Beside me singing in the Wilderness—

And Wilderness is Paradise enow.

Is this not what we all are looking for? I find these verses truly inspirational, passionate and profound.

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring,

The Winter Garment of Repentance fling

The Bird of Time has but a little way

To fly — and Lo! the Bird is on it’s Wing.

Khayyam has been viewed as a hedonist, a sufi, an atheist, a devout muslim. He was a mathematician, astronomer, philosopher and poet. His quatrains are like a fresh breath of life. His verses are profound and cover almost every aspect of existence. They span love, religion, philosophy, culture, wine and food…from the mundane to the divine.

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,

Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit

 Shall  lure it back to cancel half a Line

Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

The fatalistic twist we see in  Khayyam’s poetry is said to have been the handiwork of Edward Fitzgerald, the translator whose translation appeals to me the most. So, what has come down to us is not just the poet’s philosophy but also the translator’s own interpretation, a truly multi-cultural mix. Fitzgerald himself referred to this great creation as “transmogrification“. He wrote: “My translation will interest you from its form, and also in many respects in its detail: very un-literal as it is. Many quatrains are mashed together: and something lost, I doubt, of Omar’s simplicity, which is so much a virtue in him” (letter to E. B. Cowell, 9/3/58).

I find the mish-mash put forth by Edward Fitzgerald truly rhythmic and it brings out the flavour of mysticism and lyricism in the verses. There have been other translations but I stand by Edward Fitzgerald’s first edition as the best one.

Omar Khayyam is regarded as a great man. In 1970, they named a lunar crater after him. In 1980, a minor planet was named 3095Omarkhayyam. In 2009, Iran donated a scholar pavilion to the United Nations office in Vienna,featuring four great scholars from their culture. One of them is Omar Khayyam.

To me, these verses of Khayyam translated by Fitzgerald transcend all borders of time, nationality, religion and culture.

Edit

On Nearing Fifty…

I have started pondering over my life as I head for the completion of half-a-century of my earthly existence. Do I reminiscence … look back in time?

I do miss my childhood a little bit…. But, at some point, I got stuck on the age of sixteen. My eleven-and-a-half-year-old son told me I was more like an eleven-year-old. My irritated neighbour in China once told me I behaved like a twelve-year-old. I myself prefer sixteen as the sweetest of all ages because that is when between the threshold of childhood and adulthood, life holds out maximum possibilities. One has not pinned down on what exactly one wants to do in life but one is getting there. One looks and feels energetic and beautiful. One feels like an empress who can conquer the whole world. There is nothing to lose by expressing oneself as one is. At the threshold of fifty, I feel pretty much the same.

Life with it’s endless possibilities is starting out for me again. My children are growing up into independent young men. I look forward to their future and revel in it. My eighteen-year-old is now like a friend. I can talk politics, literature, history, discovery and exploration with him. My husband started out as a good friend and continues through life as my closest one. I am like an empress in a household of geeky men who cannot manage without me. I pretty much feel as I did at sixteen, tyrannical and beautiful…give or take forty odd kilos of weight added on to me through my years of wisdom and truth.

The whole world is open to me. I can go where I please once my younger son is a little older. Right now, I travel vicariously with Marco Polo and with Captain Nemo. I read and dream without having the necessity to worry about my future. The three men in my life worry about theirs and mine too ! So, I live in the moment and carpe diem.

I am not in fact sure if I do want to travel physically to all the most scenic spots in the world as the plumbing and the hotels may not meet up to my stringent standards. For instance, Easter Island looks most inviting with it’s bare elemental beauty and the fantastic rock formations, yet the hotels seem more like seaside resorts by the beach. I know some do not have air conditioning. While some travellers wrote that they found a volcanic rock jutting out in the middle of their room exciting, I prefer to relish such things outdoor. I have dust allergy, need clean air and air-conditioning to be comfortable every night. So, such an excursion may not be my cup of tea.

I would love to go to the Antarctica base and shake the staid penguins’ hands/ wings. However, I would not want face the bone-chilling cold. I would love to travel in space but I do not want to travel for more than a few hours. So, travelling vicariously does very well for me.

I have developed a bad left knee that would not be an asset if I wanted to go to Machu Picchu or travel on camel back across the Egyptian sands to visit Tutankhamen’s fabulous tomb. There are so many places I would love to visit and see. I wish teleporting like in Star Trek were a reality. Then, I could visit all the fabulous places of the world from the comfort of my home.

I can eat what I like… Of course doctors tell you otherwise, but the ultimate choice is mine. When I was a child, my mother used to force me to down an egg, toast, fruits and milk at the start of each sunshiny school day. Now, I am free to eat what I like…black coffee at breakfast each day…and a sweet biscuit or a chocolate with it. I can try different kinds of cheeses on my toast and eat no fruit and eggs at breakfast!

Doctors would call me obese but I would call myself mature and plump. My doctor told me I had misused my knee…it is getting better with a herbal supplement that my elder son picked up at the supermarket, Shallaki or Boswellia. Maybe, I will do the steep ascent of Machu Picchu after all… Of course a good hotel near at hand is a must.

My threesome are very keen to visit and spend a few days in the Kruger National Park in South Africa. I am not. Some of our friends went there and hobnobbed with monkeys and foxes and whatnots at breakfast, lunch and dinner. My brother-in-law who lives nearby in Johannesburg found a lion lounging in a bathroom in Kruger Park. As animals are not my favorite creatures and I do not fancy dancing with elephants, I would prefer not to live inside the park…

The best part of closing in on fifty will be that I will get closer to sixty than I have ever been. I really want to hit sixty because a fortune teller in China told me I will be very happy and attain great things in the sixtieth year of my existence. Could it be success as an author or grandchildren or would I be thrilled to turn a silver blonde and leave my hair undyed? Which would it be? After all, hairdressers are the only people who ask me if I am thirty something! I can never explain to them I am sixteen at heart and forty-nine in real years…

I am sure an elephant in Kruger National Park would understand!

Flight of Fancy

Uninhibited

Like a feather, I drift.
I float, I flit
Across the skies,
Uninhibited by ties.
Along my flight,
I watch the sunrise
Through the web of leaves
On sleepy trees.
The wind blows the tangled mess
Till the trees look better dressed.
Below, the coastline froths with white
And reflects the rising sunlight.
Painted gold, I hear the swish
Of trees or waves, I know not which…
Hills and mounds that lie below
They change and come and go.
Lifted by a strong breeze, I fly
Till I merge into the infinite sky.

Beginning…

Beyond Chaos

Whenever I look at the vast expanse of the sky,
I know, I really need to fly,
To stretch out my wide wings in the breeze
And swish with the lush green trees.
I soar
Undisciplined, wild, crazy,
Forever willing to try
But knowing no bonds
To limit the mind,
Forever willing to pry
Beyond the frontiers
Of time.
Untied, untamed, wild…
This is how I like to fly.
An unbeaten stallion,
Pure, white
High beyond the rainbow,
Floats with translucent wings,
Unrestrained by matter or space,
Or the mad urge to race.
It gallops and flies,
Unfettered by ties
That hold us back.
It soars the wordless infinity
Where light
Becomes night
And everything unites
To a pulsating rhythm
Of an energy
Beyond time.
I ride on the stallion.
I gallop
Till I merge,
Become part
Of the throb,
Annihilated by the pulsating rhythm.
I no longer exist
Except in
Ecstasy.

Freedom

This is my concept of freedom.

Freedom

What is
This freedom I seek,
This freedom I aspire,
This freedom I meditate?
Freedom from creed.
Freedom from race.
Freedom from eternal bondage.
Freedom to live.
Freedom to mingle.
Freedom to be a drop in the ocean.
Freedom from country.
Freedom from nation.
Freedom from the need for salvation.
Freedom from boundaries.
Freedom from forms.
Freedom to soar infinitely and more….
This is
The freedom I seek,
The freedom I aspire,
The freedom I meditate….

Omnipotence of being

You talk borders, you talk races.
I only see open spaces.
I only feel stretches of infinity.
Time, space, materials,
Does it all matter?
I see the colors of the rainbow,
The colors of the trees.
I see the yellow amaltaz
Flutter in the breeze
And butterflies dancing.
Is it a butterfly or a flower in between the leaves?
Does it all matter?
All I sense is the omnipotence of being.
Then,
How is a flower different from a bee?
How are you different from me?