To be honest, I must admit this. I am crazy of anything and everything remotely related to Indian culture. Guess, the craziness has only increased with separation from India. Simple things like the smell of malligai poo, the roasted kadalai with pori, the enjoyment that can be possibly derived by simply viewing the majestic gopurams of the kovils and the birds perched atop them; bewilderment at the cancerous,unstructured growth of Madras, etc. are not available any where else in the planet. India has been and continues to be a seductive charmer. One cannot but love it for all that it is; with the hope that the state of affairs out there would only get better.
Well, I guess I am digressing from what I had originally intended to write. When I had been to India, I paid visit to Motilal Banarasidass, Madras (I refuse to call it by its new name!). They deal primarily with Indological publications - anything and everything remotely connected with India and its heritage. I was surprised to find that most of the works were by foreigners. This incident immediately comes to my mind when I think about it now. I don't know why, but then I had been wary of taking in at face value whatever had been written by foreigners about India. I might be wrong, but somehow this cynical mind always thought that such works would be adulterated with their popular belief and impressionist attitude. I was left wondering about the sad state of affairs when it came to Indian culture. How many among the present generation are proud of India's - their - cultural heritage? The land of Hinduism, Jainism, Buddhism (often China is wrongly confused to be as the originating place of this off-shoot of Hinduism), Christianity, Islam, Sikhism, etc.
Something is seriously wrong with me. I seem to be at my incoherent best. Here, I go back to the incident. One old man A, presumably in his 70's, retired, wanting to go back to his roots, came to this bookshop. I simply happened to be browsing, amazed at the variety out there. The old man in-charge of the shop, B, happened to be the best-fit for the demands of such a job. He seemed to know about almost any book out there. A's question took me completely by surprise. He wanted a foreigner's version of Ramayana. When I think of an English version of Ramayana , the first book that comes to my mind is the one by Rajaji. I reasoned out later that the book A wanted might have been a really good one; with transliterations in English and detailed explanations of the Sanskrit verses or might have been dealing with all the Khandas of Ramayana. However, this ironical incident was an eye-opener for me. Never be prejudiced against any form of art work courtesy those unwanted, insane and illogical notions.
Later on, I was talking with B, the man in-charge, and he patiently explained to me the present state of affairs when it came to the study of Indian or for that matter Oriental Literature. He was of the opinion that these very foreigners evinced a keen interest in them, and often pursued the study as part of their PhD programs in Oriental studies. He was infact, grateful to these souls - about whom I had a wrong and jaundiced opinion. My realization had been late; or passion for Indian culture had been dormant for a while; but nevertheless, it had to dawn upon me through the subtle ironies in Life. I am/was also a part of the crowd that considered it more fashionable to read Western authors. Guess, drawing the threshold and giving respect to all kinds of works would be the key.
The only bottleneck to truly appreciating Indological Literature would be the mandatory requirement of a "passable" knowledge of Sanskrit. Well, but then, if people can take extra pains to learn German/ French/ Spanish/ whatever, why should Sanskrit be left behind? And does it harm to know an additional language?
Well, I guess I am digressing from what I had originally intended to write. When I had been to India, I paid visit to Motilal Banarasidass, Madras (I refuse to call it by its new name!). They deal primarily with Indological publications - anything and everything remotely connected with India and its heritage. I was surprised to find that most of the works were by foreigners. This incident immediately comes to my mind when I think about it now. I don't know why, but then I had been wary of taking in at face value whatever had been written by foreigners about India. I might be wrong, but somehow this cynical mind always thought that such works would be adulterated with their popular belief and impressionist attitude. I was left wondering about the sad state of affairs when it came to Indian culture. How many among the present generation are proud of India's - their - cultural heritage? The land of Hinduism, Jainism, Buddhism (often China is wrongly confused to be as the originating place of this off-shoot of Hinduism), Christianity, Islam, Sikhism, etc.
Something is seriously wrong with me. I seem to be at my incoherent best. Here, I go back to the incident. One old man A, presumably in his 70's, retired, wanting to go back to his roots, came to this bookshop. I simply happened to be browsing, amazed at the variety out there. The old man in-charge of the shop, B, happened to be the best-fit for the demands of such a job. He seemed to know about almost any book out there. A's question took me completely by surprise. He wanted a foreigner's version of Ramayana. When I think of an English version of Ramayana , the first book that comes to my mind is the one by Rajaji. I reasoned out later that the book A wanted might have been a really good one; with transliterations in English and detailed explanations of the Sanskrit verses or might have been dealing with all the Khandas of Ramayana. However, this ironical incident was an eye-opener for me. Never be prejudiced against any form of art work courtesy those unwanted, insane and illogical notions.
Later on, I was talking with B, the man in-charge, and he patiently explained to me the present state of affairs when it came to the study of Indian or for that matter Oriental Literature. He was of the opinion that these very foreigners evinced a keen interest in them, and often pursued the study as part of their PhD programs in Oriental studies. He was infact, grateful to these souls - about whom I had a wrong and jaundiced opinion. My realization had been late; or passion for Indian culture had been dormant for a while; but nevertheless, it had to dawn upon me through the subtle ironies in Life. I am/was also a part of the crowd that considered it more fashionable to read Western authors. Guess, drawing the threshold and giving respect to all kinds of works would be the key.
The only bottleneck to truly appreciating Indological Literature would be the mandatory requirement of a "passable" knowledge of Sanskrit. Well, but then, if people can take extra pains to learn German/ French/ Spanish/ whatever, why should Sanskrit be left behind? And does it harm to know an additional language?
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