Onam and Eid

Today is Eid in the U.S. Since it is based on the lunar calendar it might be on different days around the world. So Eid Mubarak to all, around the world.

Eid makes me think of holidays and their significance. Eid is a festival of thanks after a month of reflection, prayer and fasting. There is something beautiful about that. And even though it is a lovely sentiment and one I grew up with, there is one holiday story that is complex and multi-layered and tugs on my emotions. Most of us know about Eid (perhaps I'll write more in my next posting) but few know about Onam.

This year, the Kerala celebration of Onam fell on September 2nd, when I had no Internet access. Onam is not a holiday I grew up with, nor one I've ever really celebrated. But for anyone who loves stories and anyone who lives to write or read, Onam tells a tale unlike any other.

Over 1000 years old, it is a celebration that has survived from Dravidian times, before Aryans arrived in India changing it forever. In fact, you can read into it the realities of the Aryan subjugation of Dravidian India.

Mahabali (the mighty and strong one) ruled over a prosperous and bountiful Kerala. More than that, he was a king most loved by his people for he was fair and kind and loved his people in return. He did all he could to ensure that none went hungry in his realm and worked tirelessly for them. Mahabali (or Mahveli) as he is still called in Kerala was also a powerful warrior and a devout believer, two facts that would change his destiny and that of his people. He waged campaigns, asked for boons from the fearsome Lord Shiva, and soon conquered all three worlds: this world, the world of the gods and the nether world. He was truly powerful and none dared antagonize him.

Of course their defeat had greatly enraged the gods and they waited anxiously for a chance, any chance to take back what was theirs and to teach this upstart king a lesson.

The opportunity arose when Mahabali held a mighty yagna a grand prayer and celebration during which he fed and gave alms to Brahmins and the poor. The celebration went on for days, but as the yagna neared its end there arrived a little Brahmin. His name was Vaman and he was irate when he was informed that there was no food or alms left for him.

He trembled with anger, and Mahabali, with his hands folded, begged his forgiveness. No one wanted the curse of a Brahmin and besides Vaman was his guest and no one who came to his yagna could return empty-handed. The king promised to give Vaman whatever he asked for.

"The land I can conquer with three steps," said Vaman.

Mahabali agreed.

Suddenly the little Brahmin grew large, so large that he blocked out the sky. Vaman took one step. And what a step it was, a giant step that covered the earth. He took another step and took over heaven, the realm of the gods. As he lifted one foot for his third step he asked Mahabali to give him space on which to set his foot down. Understanding that Vaman was not all he seemed, Mahabali kneeled and bowed his head. Vaman put his foot squarely on the king's head and pushed him down into the netherworld.

Vaman then disclosed his identity as Vishnu, the Great Preserver. Overcome by the sight of the god, Mahabali wept at his good fortune. He asked for just one boon. It was granted.

"I want to come back for one day each year," he said, "to see how my people are doing. To see if they are happy."

That day has been celebrated for at least a thousand years as Onam. But to me this is more than a story of conquest and defeat. It is also a love story.

For, on Onam, all of Mahabali's people dress up, cook good food, participate in the great snake boat races of Kerala, and make rangolis of flowers at their doorstep to welcome their lost king. They are sad inside, however, because of what befell him, sad that he did not remain with them. They pretend to be happy so that Mahabali can see they are well and can return to the netherworld without a heavy heart. Poor and old alike do all that they can to make Onam a celebration without rival. They put on a show to fool Mahabali so he will not be sad.

If you really analyze it you can see the gods as Aryans (fairer-skinned, from the north) and Mahabali (a southern king, dark-skinned and supposedly savage) as Dravidian. But there is something subversively beautiful about this story that has survived the ages. For the gods do not emerge as the heroes. It is Mahabali, the dedicated and caring ruler, the passionate warrior and true believer who lost the three worlds but never what really mattered: love. And he did it all with dignity and class. And this Onam like all others since I learned about the story from the family into which I married, I take one moment to think of Mahabali and his people.

And in my mind, I see Mahabali smile through his tears as he returns to his exile. And I see his people weep through their smiles as he turns his back. For they know they are bereft forever. And my cynical self smiles...and tears up as well.

So Happy (Very) Belated Onam. And also Eid Mubarak. May the new moon of Eid usher in a time of peace.

And may we all grow towards love and selflessness this year. I am going to try my best.

Eklavya and the Art of Writing

How many writers, authors, whatever, read books on writing? I have such a strong, adverse reaction to these books that teach you how to write. But then there are writers whom I like and respect who do read these books and use them well. Perhaps I am just an elitist pig.

How do you do that, teach writing I mean? You can teach grammar, spelling...all the technical aspects of writing. But how do you teach a writer to write, to create compelling characters, plots, etc? To create life out of blank paper and ink?

Is there a precise formula to make a character come alive? To make a setting and a plot believable. How do you teach someone to create? In my opinion you either have it or you don't.

So, perhaps you can put together everything you find in books and create a competent story. But if you don't have that spark, that electricity within, that vision... all you have are well crafted words but not much else. That's just my opinion but what do I know?

There are books and writers that do *teach* me how to write. The writers whose work I admire, who don't have to consciously teach me to write. But they do.

I am reminded of this great, poignant tale from the Mahabharata. The story of Eklavya, a shudra, who was forbidden by the shastras to learn the art of archery. But he wanted to be an archer, he was born to it, he felt the call of the bow, the song of the arrow as it rushes through the air to its precise destination. Since none would teach him, Eklavya made a statue of the great teacher, Dronacharya, made offerings to it, and started to learn the art of the bow and arrow.

One evening when Dronacharya and his brightest pupil, the Pandava prince, Arjun were out walking, near Eklavya's hut they were disturbed by the loud barks of a dog. Eklavya skilfully sewed up the mouth of the dog by weaving an arrow through its mouth.

Impressed Dronacharya came to the realization that Eklavya, a shudra, was much better than his prized pupil, Arjun, whom Drona proclaimed as the greatest archer in the world. Upon meeting him, when asked who his guru was, Eklavya prostated himself in front of Drona and proclaimed him as his teacher, showing him and Arjun the statue. Blessing him, Drona asked for his guru-dakshina (the gift a student gives a teacher as tribute).

Drona asked Eklavya, for the thumb of his right hand, stunning even Arjun with the cruelty of this demand. But Eklavya, overcome with love and devotion for this teacher, cut off his thumb and handed it to Drona, without hesitation. And the gods in heaven wept and rejoiced at the greatness of Eklavya.

The story of Eklavya has always resonated with me, the classic noble underdog. So, here's to all my teachers who came before me and did it much better than I can ever dream of (in no particular order and a very diverse and incomplete list):

Ghalib, the many writers of the Mahabharata, Zauq, Homer, Manto, Qurratulain Haider, Ismat Chughtai, Rushdie, Saul Bellow, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Mahadevi Varma, James Fenimore Cooper, Nuruddin Farha, Vikram Seth, Borges, Vikram Chandra, Manil Suri, Rohinton Mistry....a never-ending list.

I thank you all but you are not getting my thumb :-).