The Hungry Tide by Amitav Ghosh: A Few Impressions

THE HUNGRY TIDE by Amitav Ghosh is a novel to remember. All along, while reading it, I had this strange feeling that Ghosh was pushing a story little too far, and that too, unnecessarily. Rather, he was trying to stretch a 'story' into the frame of a novel. But once I had finished reading it, my view changed radically. It is, undoubtedly, one of the greatest novels I remember having read. And now I'm sure, it's going to stay with me much longer than most novels do with us, often. In a way, this novel belongs to the ultra-Bengali tradition of a river novel, and in a way. it is our answer to Melville's MOBY DICK, Mark Twain's THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLE BERRY FINN or Hemingway's OLD MAN AND THE SEA. It certainly ranks with some of the best sea-narratives that have ever been created in the world. A reductive reading might tell us that it is a novel about the dolphins, the Sunderbans, ecology et al. It's all this and yet much more than all this. It's one of the most sombre, if not poignant, tributes, ever paid, through a narrative, to the resilient spirit and triumphal march of the 'dispossessed of the earth.' It is the story of the 'dispossessed,' their endless struggle against the hostile forces of nature, and an unjust, manipulative human and social order. It is an anthropological exploration into the myths, legends, customs, life-style and struggles of the anonymous, unsung inhabitants of the Sunderbans. It is a complex narrative that weaves personal memoirs with several strands of local histories, juxtaposes past and present to create a mosaic of human lives which are remarkably memorable and unheroically heroic. Piya and Kanai, Nirmal and Nilima are only fishing nets that help Ghosh trawl vast, sea-like surge of humanity. The real hero of this narrative is the most unheroic figure of them all, the least articulate and the most stoically silent of them all -- who else but -- the inimitable FOKIR.
This novel is strongly recommended to Aravind Adiga and the likes of him, so that they could learn a lesson or two, if not more, into how one could create a sensitve, engaging, compassionate and heart-wrenching narrative about the dispossessed, too. In such matters, one doesn't always have to be gimmicky the way Adiga was in his first novel THE WHITE TIGER.

Shankaracharya's SHIVOHAM

Manobuddhiahankar Chittani Naham
Na Cha Shotrejivhe Na Cha Grannetre
Na Cha Vyombhoomir Tejo Na Vayu
Chidanandaroopa Shivoham Shivoham (i)
Na Cha Pran Sangyo Na We Panchvayu
Na Wa Saptadhaturna Na Wa Panchkosha
Na Wakpanipadon Na Chopasthpayu
Chidanandaroopa Shivoham Shivoham (ii)
Na Mein Dveshrago Na Mein Lobhmoho
Mado Naivya Mein Naivya Matsyarbhava
Na Dharmo N Chartho Na Kamo Na Moksha
Chidanandaroopa Shivoham Shivoham (iii)
Na punyam na papam na sokhyam na dukha
Na mantro na tiratham na Veda na yagna
Aham Bhojanam navya Bhojayam na bhojya
Chidanandaroopa Shivoham Shivoham (iv)
Na mein Mrityushanka, na mein Jatibheda
Pita Naivya me Naivya mata na janam
Na bandhur na mitram Guru naivya Shishya
Chidanandaroopa Shivoham Shivoham (v)
Aham Nirvikalpo Nirankaar Roope
Vibhuvyaaya Sarvatre Sarvendriyani
Sada Me Samatavam Na Muktirna Bandha
Chidananda Roopa Shivoham Shivoham (vi)

So says Kabir:

When you seek, you find in a while
Says Kabir, O my sadho, in every breath of yours
Where do you seek me, I’m there within you

An interesting question OSHO was asked and an equally interesting ANSWER!

Question –
If you were to come here now to this Ashram as a young unenlightened man, how would you respond? Would you become part of the Ashram? What work would you do? Where would you sit?

Answer –
Even if I was unenlightened, I would not be so unenlightened to come to this Ashram. That much is certain. I would not that much unenlightened.
Second thing you say - "Would you become part of the Ashram?" Even now I am not part of this ashram. I can not be part of any institution or any organization, even my own.
And if I had come as an unenlightened man, naturally the Ashram will not be mine, will be somebody else's. I can not be part of even my own organization, so how can I be a part of anybody else's organization? Impossible.
And then you ask - "What work would you do?"
I have never done any work. I am the laziest man in world you can find.
And the last you ask - "Where would you sit?"
I would escape immediately! I would see any organization, some Ashram and I would run! You are asking - "where will you sit?" I will not sit at all!

SPIRITUALITY

I remember the time I became interested in spirituality;
Everywhere spiritual window-shopping, trying every modality;
Tried the old thought, as well as the "New Age";
Read many books, turned many many a page;
Found a "Guru", sought the wisdom of that sage;
False it was, trapped myself in my own cage,
Disillusioned, disappointed, broke out in rage,
Healed my anger, the wisdom from the experience my wage.
Still I continued on my heroic quest;
Spent much time to sit, think and rest;
And discovered that all my window-shopping, my search
Hand-me-down from others, even the "New Age" church,
Was the wrong way to look upon a spiritual quest;
It is neither the discipline of the East, nor science of the West;
It is simply the mastery of an art in my own way..,
Be, learn, step along my path, even in the way I pray.
Simply allow my talents, my flower within
Grow, flourish, and bloom, purify me from sin;
Embraced by divine light, or any other means
Purge my dross, my morality I cleanse.
Spirituality is not something I achieve, attain or reach,
It is a way of life that I can learn, but not teach.

NOTE: I do not identify myself as the author of this poem. This poem was sent by a student/friend Ramnita Sahni. I simply posted it for those of my friends who want to enjoy it.

Why don’t you dance inside me?

I have seen little atoms of dust dancing
A dance of life
They bob up and down
Round and round
As if caught in a chakravyu
They move in their own concentric circles
Without disturbing each other’s rhythm
Dance through the haze of my vision
Dance through the swirling waves of Time
Dance as though life would never end
Whirling dervishes
Spinning around their axes
Moving from axis to the rim
And then back to the axis
Their movement is a spiral of stillness
Slowly winding down the dark stairs
Edging closer to the heart of the matter
The eternal naad resounding deep within
The waking hours of zikr turning into songs of lament
Oh! Why don’t you dance inside me?

Why don't you become the ocean?

Thoughts are like colorful fish
Inside the aquarium of mind
They float and dive
Skirting around what looks somewhat like
The green moss on wild hedges
Resting on tiny, white pebbles
Moving upstream, downstream
Constantly
Propelled by an inner urge
Searching for scraps of food
In eternal restlessness
Their beady eyes darting all around
Sometimes hitting against the glass frame
Returning to self-limiting enclosures
You be the spectator outside
Perched on the shores of silence
Watch them till the glass frame breaks
And fishes leap out of the splashing waters
To return to the ocean