Of cold hands and warm hearts

When I was a child, my parents' home had a large, old-style wooden swing that I loved to swing on. My enduring memories of that swing are of a close friend and I pretending it was a plane, in which we travelled to the fabled land of Kashmir. Once we were there, the swing would transform itself into a bus in which we travelled everywhere, or a boat on which we took a turn on the Dal lake, while someone played fabulous music on (I think it was) a harp! Our knowledge of Kashmir was from the things we heard of from a relative who had, indeed been there, and who had got a wonderfully embroidered woolen coat as a souvenir. In my childhood imagination, Kashmir was a land like the one Sindbad the sailor or Hatim Tai inhabited. A wondrous fantasy place, where  fabulous riches and adventures abounded.

So when we planned a trip there this Christmas vacation, I was in a dichotomy of mind. One part was ecstatic, for I was going to soon find out if all I had imagined was true. Jammu & Kashmir has been in the news for all the wrong sort of and heart-wrenching reasons in for the past many years, but if anything, that had heightened my fascination with it. It was one of those 'must-visit destinations before you die' for me for the longest time. There was also the matter of the rich historical references, right from the Harappan times, the Mahabharata, to the Mughal era, which drew me to it.

Another part of me was worried. Worried because I have a low tolerance for cold and an acrophobia bordering on vertigo. A relative stays on the 26th floor and I am fine at her place as long as I do not have to step out onto the balcony or go too near the wide windows. I instinctively claw at whatever I can cling on to. How was I to handle a cold place in winter, with all that snow, and which had landscapes of (literally) Himalayan proportions?

The place was so breathtakingly beautiful, that all my worries flew out of the window, acrophobia be d****d!

I was left with images of a warm, caring and hospitable people. A people hurt by being caught in the cross-fire between two countries (OK, three, if one counts China). A people who just want to be able to live an ordinary life. A people forced to live under extraordinarily hostile conditions. Wherever one looked, there were the signs of a desperate poverty. No big stores, fine bungalows, fancy malls anywhere in Srinagar. We did not come across any beggars except for an old, bent woman outside the Hazaratbal shrine - a surprise observation in India. Instead, there were people desperate to be able do any little work that they could, to make some money. Hawking exquisite handicrafts off a sheet of plastic on freezing hilltops, walking many kilometers through treacherous paths guiding a horse with rider in snow, sleet and slush with the barest of warm protection, pulling toboggans up-slope with overweight tourists...the political situation obviously makes it a difficult and dangerous place for investors to take an interest in, and that reflects on the state's economy. I was somehow ashamed of being a priviledged consumer there.

Jammu was a bit different. For one, economically the conditions seemed better. There was a significant Sikh population. Although the only person we spoke to at length was the driver of our rented car, somehow they came across as more accepting of being a part of India. Though somehow not as warm as the people of Srinagar.

After coming back home, I read of the news of trouble in the very areas we had travelled to around Srinagar.  It made me realise that I had indeed been priviledged to have been there, interacted with those people, and felt the warmth of their hospitality, no matter what the ground reality. It also brought home to me the fact of the bubble I had been in, as a tourist in a place that had most of its economy based on the tourism industry - and how vulnerable they really are. It made me sad to think of the suffering an unfortunate history and geography bestows on otherwise good people.

Let me leave you with the pictures. Although the Kashmir valley is at its verdant best in summer, the bareness of winter too, has its own beauty.


The craggy tops of the mighty Himalayas. The almost vertical stratifications are proof of their origins- originally under-sea, and pushed up into the skies by the movements of the earth's crust. Think of the powerful crashing of the subcontinent into mainland Asia.

Ski slopes at Gulmarg, accessed by gondolas, the cable cars.

The line-of-control at the highest point in Gulmarg, beyond which there is no-man's-land. The opposite hill has a Pak outpost just beyond the crest.

The gondolas that take you up there. This is sinister, treacherous, inhospitable territory, with snow so deep a man could sink inside.

Wild berries? No. These are rose hips on the wild rose bushes that run riot along mountain roads. One can only imagine the colours when in full bloom.

Chashme Shahi. Built by Shah Jahan for his beloved first son, Dara Shikoh. Where we could imagine bejewelled harem ladies strolling around at the peak of its Mughal patronage. See the snow-capped mountains in the background. It reminded me of our own Lalbaug, with old old trees of chinar and the willow standing around in majestic leafless winter glory, the thickly foliaged Magnolia grandifloras and evergreens interspersed as the perfect foil.

Pari Mahal. A multi-level terraced garden with a fabulous view of meadows and hills. Built by Dara Shikoh, eldest son of the Mughal emperor Shahjahan, a staunch believer of Sufism for his Sufi tutor, Mulla Shah Badakhshi. He, unfortunately, did not ascend the throne after his father, having being disposed off by his ambitious, fanatical younger brother. History might have been a bit different if this gentler, more tolerant and beauty loving prince had become emperor instead of Aurangzeb.

The iconic Dal lake with its shikaras. The water was close to freezing when we were there. Yesterday I read that the surface now has a thin top layer of ice. Everything was lovely- the unhurried pace of the boat gliding over the almost still, greenish hued water, the feeling of calm, the majestic mountains surrounding the lake. The only problem were the peddlers who kept sidling along trying to make us look at their wares. I completely understand and empathise with the desperation of these hardworking people to do anything productive to earn a living, but we would have liked to be left in peace while on the lake.

On the road in picturesque Sonamarg. This was an absolutely stunning place. All around us were snow-capped mountains, and the road followed a clear, gurgling and ice-cold Sindhu river. What the world knows as the mighty Indus, famed for the setting of the Indus Valley Civilisation more than 4000 years ago. This place is closer to the source, and the river is a frothy, playful child as compared to the vast, sedately flowing one that it undoubtedly is later on its journey to the Arabian sea.

The shopkeeper at the shop where we bought some souvenirs, in his phiran and with his kangri - the wicker basket that holds an urn of burning coals, kept close to protect from the cold. A true symbol of Kashmir, we bought one for ourselves as well. Without the coals, of course!

Pahalgam. The place which doubles up for Switzerland in many of our hindi movies for those who don't realize it isn't. The sights on the trek to this place were lovelier than the place itself, IMO.

This was the surprise item. After making visits to all the usual haunts of tourists, we had one extra day left. Our driver, who was a knowledgeable person, suggested this place called Yusmarg, near the revered Chrar-e-Sharif shrine. It a pretty sunny day when we started out. There were many apple orchards along the way. As we neared the place, it started becoming overcast, and it started to snow! It was so wonderful. Suddenly the bare ground began to be covered by fine white flakes. A was ecstatic, and we kept trying to catch the snowflakes on our tongues. It was an exhilarating experience.

On the last leg of our trip, in Jammu, we first went to a town Akhnoor, which is famous for this fort on the banks of the Chenab, built at a site where excavations have revealed the northernmost known remains of the Harappan civilisation. This place is known locally for the Sohni-Mahiwal legend too.

And a picturesque view from the ramparts of the fort overlooking the Chenab. Though in ruins, some parts are still standing up to the ravages of time. We searched for the ruins of the Harappan civilisation, but there was so much of undergrowth that I'm sure it was under all that. Our country needs to wake up in terms of protecting and showcasing our monuments too. There was no guard on duty here, no entry fee, nothing. Just the above notice proclaiming this is national property. Are they waiting for this pretty well preserved piece of history to fall into further ruins before taking some action?

See the wild undergrowth here. The excavated remains of the Harappan civilisation are probably hidden under all that.

Jammu is near one of the border posts where people can go and visit. A milestone just this side of the border says: Sialkot 11 kms, Lahore 141 kms. A member of our army takes you out through a gate bearing the Indian flag into no-man's-land. At the other end of a half-kilometer, one can see the opposite gate bearing the chand-tara of Pakistan. Halfway, is a barbed wire protected barrier, which is the extent of the distance one can go. See that pipal tree- Ficus religiosa? It stands proudly, half in India, half in Pakistan.

We finished our trip with a pilgrimage to Vaishno Devi. A 12 km trek uphill. I feel proud of the fact that my daughter walked up all the way. No pictures, as we chose not to take anything with us. We aren't allowed anything except our faith and the clothes on us into the shrine. So no pictures, but it is a beautiful place the goddess resides in. It drizzled incessantly, turning to snowing during the last few kilometers. It was certainly an experience of a lifetime.  

About idlis, dosas, commoners and kings

History as it is taught in Indian schools borders on the boring, and most people turn to the sciences at the end of their schooling in a desperate attempt to get rid of the subject. History, though, can be the most interesting of subjects if it is approached as a narrative of events, a story with all the elements of wonder and drama that it undoubtedly holds. Storytelling is one of the most powerful ways to activate our brains, just like a smell or music that are both powerful triggers for memory. Sometimes even reminding one of things long gone, that we may have not been conscious of remembering.

To focus on this, Saffrontree held a fest of fiction and non-fiction based on Indian History in the first week of Decenber. It has a wonderful bunch of books that deal with Indian history in a fun way. Do go to the posts and read all about these books.

Here are my contributions. Both of these are books A has thoroughly enjoyed. They have been extensively used for school projects this year, she has been recommending them to her friends AND her history teacher, and we've already gifted many copies of the first to a few close friends.

pic courtesy flipkart

Let’s Go Time Travelling: Life in India through the ages
Written by Subhadra Sen Gupta
Published by Penguin Books India
Age 9-12 years

In her interview in The Hindu at the publishing of her book Let’s Go Time Travelling Subhadra Sen Gupta says, "My target readers are the kids in classes 6 to 8, who begin studying Indian history. The book aims at making history less intimidating for them and also talk about things that kids are curious about. The stuff that textbooks leave out, like food and clothes, transport and school."

Very true. History textbooks have a way of putting the child off the subject, unless there is an exceptional teacher in the offing. This book fills in exactly that void. For my daughter in the 6th grade, this was THE book to read, much in the mould of the irreverent Horrible Histories series.

A period of close to 5000 years has been divided into 4 parts- Early India from 2600 - 500 BCE, Ancient India from 300 BCE – 1100 CE, Medieval India from 1200 – 1850 CE and British India from 1800 – 1940 CE. I give the dates here not to overwhelm the reader of this review with dates: something that always put me off from an academic study of history, but to demonstrate the scope of this slim and wonderfully crafted book.

Subhadra Sen Gupta ( interviewed here on Saffrontree) deconstructs the weight of all that history and distills it into bite-sized parts. She keeps her finger firmly on the pulse of the middle school child who is lured into wanting to find out more after reading the short story at the beginning of each chapter, comprising ordinary people from that particular period. The story tells a lot about their thoughts, ideas, customs and beliefs. She focuses on the ‘storytelling aspect’ of history, giving a holistic yet richly detailed view of each era.

Along the way, we get a peek into how historians decode the data they have at hand from archaeological findings, written records, period literature, and any other relics of a period to recreate the how and why of all that has happened. For example, we can know what food people of a period ate and why. In the chapter on the Pallava and Chola dynasties, we learn that people ate many varieties of the dosa, but the idli was not invented yet. How? From the references in the literature of the period. Odes to dosas, but no idlis. Also that spices used in sambar were pepper and tamarind. Chillies and tomatoes were a colonial import, brought by the Portuguese from the Americas in the 1700s.

An enjoyable book, and a valuable addition to the study of Indian history, along with Anu Kumar's 'In the Country of the Gold-digging Ants' and Roshan Dalal's twin volumes by Puffin.

pic courtesy flipkart

Victory Song
Written by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
Published by Penguin Books India
Age 9-12

Neela is a spunky 12 year old girl living in the British India of the 1930s. It is a few years before the Quit India movement. Freedom fighters are everywhere, in the guise of ordinary people. Neela befriends a young freedom fighter, Samar, during her elder sister’s wedding. Neela's father has to go away to Calcutta on some patriotic work soon after the wedding.

Samar is seriously injured during a raid on a British facility. He takes refuge in Neela’s home, where he is kept in hiding until he is well, as the British soldiers are looking for him. Soon, Neela’s father goes missing in Calcutta. The feisty little girl dresses up as a boy, a wandering minstrel, and takes Samar’s help to go to Calcutta to find her father.

What happens to Samar and Neela in Calcutta? How do they find her father? The rest of this riveting tale on the backdrop of the freedom movement against British rule has to be read to find this out.

Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni brings us a book for pre-teens that takes us into the everyday world of a girl of the period, complete with people’s attitudes about 'girls should be seen and not heard', and how it is this feisty girl’s courage and resourcefulness that saves the day.

Crossposted at Saffrontree.

Abhijnaanashakuntalam: Truth & Lies

Mythological stories and folktales that have been around since ancient times are constantly evolving. They are a part of our oral storytelling tradition, and every storyteller tells it differently, infusing it with the cultural milieu, social and religious practices and his/her own world-view. This means that the same stories necessarily change over times and geographies, even if infinitesimally every time. This, for eg., accounts for vast differences between the Ramayana of Valmiki, the Ramcharitmanas of Tulsidas and the Indonesian version which has been derived from the Kamba Ramayanam of South India taken there by people who migrated there in the 8th century AD from Srilanka.

A notable example of different tellings of a mythological story is that of Shakuntala. Any self-respecting book reader will swear by the story immortalised by Kalidasa in his Abhijnaanashakuntalam. Shakuntala’s existence is forgotten by Dushyant on account of a curse by Durvasa rishi as she had been daydreaming about her husband when she should have been hastening to attend to Durvasa who is a guest. When she pleads with the seer to take back his curse, he tells her that if she can produce a token given by her husband in front of him, he would remember her. Then follows the whole story of the loss of the ring (careless woman!) and the serendipitous producing of it by the fisherfolk in the court after Dushyant has denied recognising Shakuntala as his wife in public.

I, too, believed in this version of the Shakuntalam till quite recently. The genius of Kalidasa and the beauty of his rendering ensured that the world believed it to be the real version. Far from it. It was merely the more popular version, that even little children learn (unfortunately!), thanks mainly to ACKs.

pic courtesy flipkart

It was quite recently, that I came across Women of the Mahabharata: The Question of Truth. Its author, Chaturvedi Badrinath, is a scholar on the Mahabharata who has won the Sahitya Akademi Award in 2010 for his books on the epic.

In his book, he speaks about the various women characters in the epic, known and relatively unknown. The chapter on Shakuntala made me sit up and take notice of the fact that Kalidasa had redefined the term ‘poetic licence’ drastically. Searching more for the original version, I found it again in Ashok Banker’s The Forest of Stories and a few online versions of the truth like this one.

In the original, there is no Durvasa-Ring episode. When Dushyanta disowns Shakuntala publicly, she berates him, and teaches him a few essential things about the Truth and Dharma. In the process, she comes across as intelligent, dignified and resourceful even under the grief of her husband’s denial of their marriage. Dushyant comes across as weak-willed coward, who was more worried about his image if he admitted to an impulsive marriage in a faraway hermitage. Of course, as it is mythology, he ‘accepts’ her after a convenient akashvani proclaims Shakuntala to be telling the truth!  

Kalidasa’s Abhijnaanashakuntalam is a beautifully written love story. However, he had adapted the original tale of Shakuntala, infusing it with the beliefs and social mores of the times: the 4th century AD. The status of women was at a low as a direct result of the Manusmriti written a few centuries earlier. And of course, the hero of a romantic tale could do no wrong. How is Dushyanta to be blamed for his behaviour if he was a victim to a curse? In this, Kalidasa's genius has done women a disservice, as following generations have till today believed in his version rather than the original. Unfortunately, this is something that will shadow many such originals, as Sanskrit no longer remains a living language, and there will be fewer people who can study our original works.

This is my entry for Tulika's "Celebrating Our Myths" blogfest. 

Anne Frank - on Womensweb

This review of one of my all time favourite books (reviewed for the 2nd time on my blog) was written by me as an entry to the June 'The Book that Hooked Me' contest at Womensweb. It was published on the site as one of the five reviews shortlisted.

This review is based on the Definitive Edition of the book. Published by Penguin books.

Pic courtesy flipkart

If she had survived the Holocaust, and lived to this day, Anne Frank would have been 83 years old, on the 12th of June, 2012. Would she have realized her dream of becoming a published writer? I think she would have. Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl is one of the most riveting pieces of work that I have ever come across. What makes it so compelling is the fact that the writer was just an ordinary girl in her teens, writing about the ordinary things of everyday life as lived in extraordinary circumstances.

In July 1942, Anne's family, along with some of their friends, went into hiding from the Nazi persecution of the Jews. They remained hidden in the Secret Annexe (as Anne calls their hiding place in a hidden area of her father's office building). They were helped from the outside by loyal non-Jew friends, who kept them supplied with food, essentials and news.

Unfortunately, they were discovered in August 1944. Anne's diary has its last entry on 1st August 1944. In the 2-odd years that they remained hidden, she wrote all her thoughts and experiences- the good, bad, and the ugly-  in a diary that she received for her 13th birthday, from her father, Otto Frank. Miep Gies, the lady who was one of their helpers, found the diary along with other papers after their arrest, kept it safe, and handed it over to Otto, who returned after the war as the only survivor.

Anne literally grows through her diary entries - we see her blossoming as a person, as an insightful, thinking, caring human being. Entries in the beginning show her to be a relatively spoilt, fairly self-centered little person whose otherwise quick mind is engaged in many inconsequential things. We see little girls like this around us so often.

Anne says this of herself- "I look back at that Anne Frank as a pleasant, amusing, but superficial girl, who has nothing to do with me. I'd like to live that seemingly carefree and happy life for an evening, a few days, a week. At the end of that week, I'd be exhausted, and would be grateful to the first person to talk to me about something meaningful. I want friends, not admirers."

I must have been around 13 years old when I discovered this book. Just around Anne's age when she began her diary. I was mesmerized by the book, amazed at her thoughts and feelings, which so closely mirrored my own as an adolescent. I connected with Anne and her thoughts, across the divide of time, place. I was drawn into her world. I think my fascination with history: specifically, the Holocaust, and my interest in writing, somehow began with this book.

Her ruminations on the books she read were also my first brushes with feminism, of a sort. "I was greatly struck by the fact that in childbirth alone, women commonly suffer more pain, illness and misery than any war hero ever does. And what's her reward for enduring all that pain? She gets pushed aside when she's disfigured by birth, her children soon leave, her beauty is gone...I don't mean to imply that women should stop having children - what I condemn are our system of values and the men who don't acknowledge how great, difficult, but ultimately beautiful women's share in society is."

Anne’s journey is one of loss, but also one of hope. Hope for a better tomorrow. Again, in her words- “I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart.”

All the World is a Stage...and we are but players

During my stay in Britain, we undertook many literary pilgrimages. One of them, of course, was to Stratford-upon-Avon, Shakespeare's birthplace. There were many exhibits about the lifestyle of the people during the Tudor period, and about Shakespeare's life and work. It was a peek into much that was extraordinary about the Bard, as well as much that was ordinary. It was a memorable visit, and I can still see the Avon river after so many years.

I have earlier reviewed Shakespeares Storybook : Folk-tales that inspired the Bard during CROCUS 2010 at Saffrontree. A book about the indigenous folk-tales that he took inspiration from, and re-shaped them to write his own plays, in the context of the society he lived in.

Here are some more books.

Pic courtesy flipkart.com

William Shakespeare
The Bard of Avon (Great People series)
Written by Gerry Bailey and Karen Foster
Illustrated by Leighton Noyes and Karen Radford
Published by Hachette India Children's books
Ages 8+

We have here a whole group of interesting characters who have set up a weekend village market. We have Mr Rummage who has a curio shop, full of knick-knacks of all kinds. 7-yr old Digby and his 9-yr old sister Hester frequent the market every Saturday and learn a lot about the things they find there from the knowledgeable Mr Rummage and the others.

This is whole series of books, with biographies of greats like Mozart, Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, etc. We are looking here at the Bard's.

In our current book, they come across a goose-feather quill, that Mr Rummage claims to have been the property of William Shakespeare. This starts a discussion about the Bard. They speak about his childhood, where he had to keep very long and taxing school hours. About his youth, when he married early, at 18, to Anne Hathaway, who at the time was 26 yrs old. About the 'lost years', a long period during which his life is not accounted for. About his joining court as the Queen's jester, and then going on to better things on stage. To the good, the bad and the ugly of his life as a player. About the Globe theatre.

There are a lot of side-notes and pictures- actual paintings from Shakespeare's time that make for informative reading. A good way to introduce the Bard's life to young children. A thumbs-up given by A.

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Pic courtesy flipkart.com

Shakespeare: His Work & His World
Written by Michael Rosen
Illustrated by Robert Ingpen
Published by Candlewick Press
Ages 12+

The times Shakespeare lived in, were exciting times for Europe. The world was just beginning to emerge from what have been called 'the Dark Ages.' People travelled more, discovered and learnt about more of the world. Renaissance had spread to Elizabethan England from mainland Europe, but it was a yet a dangerous world. People still stood more of a chance of dying a violent death or of illness, but there were now advances in science, literature, arts and craft that reached a new high.

Theatre, too was coming out of its earlier adherence to performances based on biblical stories, and for the first time, social themes were being tackled, the Bard spearheading this movement. There had been, of course storytellers that travelled from place to place, but never had there been plays on such a large scale. The patrons were, of course royalty, so they featured in many of the plays.

Michael Rosen has given us a book that brings alive all this excitement, associating the phases of his life to parts from his work. In the process, he has elevated Shakespeare from a school-child's perception of  it as "Oh, no, so boring!" to something they will be drawn towards. He has taken some of the more well-known plays and deconstructed them to show the relevance to contemporary life- something that these students can identify with, without detracting from their original beauty. And therein lies the success of this book.

Full page, and sometimes double spread illustrations in sepia tones by the Hans Christian Anderson award winner Robert Ingpen add an essential visual element to Rosen's work.

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Pic courtesy flipkart.com

Shakespeare
Written by Bill Bryson
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers
Ages 15+

Now here is a book that discusses a lot more about the Bard's life and work, in Bryson's inimitable, engaging style. In the process, Bryson tries to dig into the mysteries of the 'Lost Years' of Shakespeare's
life, seven years from his marriage to the time when he surfaced as a player at the royal court, and also the controversies over the Bard's true authorship of his plays.

As with all Bryson's books, this is an excellently researched volume, written converstionally- it makes for great reading aloud, and is ideal for young adult and adult Shakespeare aficionados.

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No discussion on Shakespeare is complete without speaking of the Globe Theatre- the site of many of the Bard's plays, at which he himself took part. When I was a high school student, our English teacher had somehow sourced a kit which had cut-outs we could press out, and construct the Globe theatre in great detail, which our class then proudly exhibited during open house. It is one of my cherished memories of school life, and has played a great part in my interest in the Bard's work.

Pic courtesy flipkart.com

A Shakespearan Theatre
Written by Jacqueline Morley
Illustrated by John James
Published by Book House
Ages 8+

Illustrations play a large part in this book, which gives us details about the life in Elizabethan England, the everyday life and the life of royalty. The cover page shown here gives an idea of the details that follow.

The advent of theatre and plays, the life of those involved. The building of the Globe theatre in 1598 in Shakespeare's heyday, its interiors and the way it was used during the performances. The burning down of the theatre in an accidental fire in 1613, and the re-building of it in 1614, just two years before Shakespeare's death in 1616.

Crossposted at Saffrontree..

When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit - on International Holocaust Remembrance day, 2012.

Pic courtesy flipkart.com

Today, 19th April 2012 is International Holocaust Remembrance day. Here is a review of a book on the Holocaust that is gentler and not so sad- one that A and I have enjoyed reading. A great book to introduce the time period to children.


When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit
Written and illustrated by Judith Kerr
Published by HarperCollins Children's Books
Ages 8-12 years

The year is 1933. Elections are being held in Germany, and one of the contenders is the Nazi party led by Adolf Hitler, well known for his anti-semitic views.

Anna's father is a political journalist. He is also Jewish. He has liberal views that do not sit too well with the Nazis. The Nazi party is expected to come to power in the forthcoming elections. If they do not, all will be well. If they do, it will prove to be dangerous for him and his family.

Fortunately for him, he has admirers of his work in the top police ranks. Someone calls him and tips him off about a possible arrest just the evening before. The family decides to move out of Germany immediately.

However, taking the entire family out would just attract attention to the flight. So Anna's father decides to go alone to Switzerland, as if on an assignment. The rest of the family is to follow in a week's time, as soon as school closes for the vacation, as if joining him there on a holiday. There is always the possibility, that in a few days' time, when the election results are out, the people of Germany would have voted out the Nazis, and it would be safe to come back home.

They have to necessarily travel light, as it would not do to be carrying too many of their possessions. It would certainly look like flight then. Anna and her brother Max have to choose among their belongings, books and toys. Anna decides to take a new toy with her, instead of Pink Rabbit, who has been with her from the beginning. After all, she has hardly played with the new toy. Pink Rabbit would not be going anywhere, and would be right there when they came back.

After a harrowing journey by train, when they almost thought that they would be caught by the authorities at the border, they get to Switzerland. They have escaped.

The Nazi party does win the elections, and Hitler does come to power. Anna and her family can never come back to Germany, as subsequent events that unfold decide. Pink Rabbit remains in their Berlin house, and is effectively 'stolen' by Hitler.

This tale of escape and survival, of a refugee life, first in Switzerland, then in Paris, with the family migrating to Britain in the end and settling down there, is autobiographical. For Anna is Judith Kerr's alter ego- it is their story. There is a very vivid potrayal of the privations of a refugee life, the experiences with different kind of people, the struggle to make ends meet, the positivity of outlook and the togetherness that keeps them afloat through many a sad day - all told in a fictionalised way that children can understand, even look at it as an adventure.

The book has a foreword by on of my favourite children's writers, Micheal Morpurgo. He refers to Anne Frank's Diary of a Young Girl. "The power of Anne Frank's story is that we know it is true, that these are her words, her thoughts, her feelings...Imagine for one moment that the Frank family had managed to escape, to find their way to England and safety. Imagine Anne Frank had lived. What would her diary have told us then? The truth is that many thousands like Anna (from this book) did find their way to safety and a new life. Happily for us, Judith Kerr was one of these."

Crossposted at Saffrontree..

Book review: Cinderella Ate my Daughter

I would like to thank Utbtkids for introducing me to this wonderful book.

Consider this. A cousin, who is a parent to three girls aged 12, 8 and 3, has always picked up girlie stuff for her daughters. Pink, frilly dresses, tutus, barbies, disney/barbie toys, dresses, fashion accessories, all the latest disney/barbie movies/dolls' houses, barbie add-ons, barbie UNO cards(??), decor in all shades of pink- baby pink, magenta, fuschia, crimson, carmine, cerise, rose...you name it. Even hot pink cakes for every birthday. Bratz stuff, shiny lip gloss and nail polish (for these age groups??) - such pride on the mother's face when she recounts her children's obsession with dressing up and hair-dressing! I am often chided for not getting all the pinky-pink stuff for my daughter, that I should lighten up and let 'a girl be a girl'! She is welcome to have her opinion, of course! Not for me, though.

Things are made more difficult by the burgeoning in-your-face hard-sell of all things pink. Or rather all things stereotypical. Parents, beware. The people to decide what your kid plays with, how s/he plays, how s/he dresses are not you, but commercial establishments who have invested big money in the business of deciding this for you. So much so, that sometimes there isn't any choice in the matter.

In her book, Cinderella Ate My Daughter, Peggy Orenstein (see blogroll on the right side for her wonderful blog) discusses this wide-scale commercialisation of gender stereotypes, the messages it passes on to the hapless, impressionable children, (of both gender) the long-reaching effects of this stereotyping, and the way this industry is fed by the hopes and aspirations of every parent who buys into it.

Pic courtesy flipkart

Cinderella Ate My Daughter
dispatches from the front lines of the new girlie-girl culture
Written by Peggy Orenstein
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers

Gender stereotyping is not a new thing. It has not begun with the culture of all things girlie. It is as old as civilisation- maybe even from before civilisation. Gender stereotyping has its roots in biology. A woman can give birth to and suckle her baby, a man cannot. So the woman stayed at home to take care of the baby, ensuring the propogation of humans, while the man ensured survival in terms of providing for food and protection.

However, what began as a matter of convenience and an equitable division of labour that worked wonderfully well for the survival of humans, has evolved slowly but surely into something that denies human beings their most fundamental right- of being humans. The world gets divided into the masculine and the feminine, each strait-jacketed into our notions of what is right or wrong for each.

In an out-and-out patriarchial society like ours, this has always featured big. We already have a million ways to perpetuate gender stereotypes. We do not need another way to achieve the same.

Good girls don't do this, they don't do that- so many social restrictions based on gender- Oh, yes, there are these for boys, too. They don't have it easier. Real boys don't cry, real boys cannot play with dolls...I could go on. Resulting in aggression as the only acceptable emotion for them to show- crippling them emotionally!

Paradoxically, the girlie culture has its roots in the feminist movement. Barbie, in fact, was introduced in 1959 as a symbol of feminist aspirations(throwing off the shackles of domesticity), and was then targeted towards teenagers. Soon, though, Barbie, (astronaut, scientist, doctor, etc. in her initial avatars) and her successors were no longer a sign of empowerment- there was a definate element of sexualisation coming in. Girls who played with them were getting younger and younger and more impressionable by the day- of course putting the dolls off the radar for the original older age groups. Making it that much more difficult to contain and deflect the subliminal messages that were being sent to these children.

A short-sighted view of the princess/barbie culture provides a vision of empowerment. After all, our kids think it is so 'cool' to emulate the way Barbie dresses. So 'cool' to know about the latest in celebrity activities. Hannah Montana becomes a goddess. Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears, Miley Cyrus,...the latest pop icon become role models. Not yet 3-yr-olds aspire to be like these idols. Ordinariness, simplicity is seen as totally 'uncool.' After all, who wants to be an old-fashioned so-and-so? So stereotypical!

Commercialisation, of course, demands that where there is a demand, there has to be a supply- so that profit can be made. After all, that is how it works in a capitalist set-up. Crass comercialisation takes it a step further, and feeds on the social weaknesses that come disguised as another step in empowerment.

'The pursuit of physical perfection was recast as a source - often the source - of young women's "empowerment." Rather than freedom from traditional constraints, then, girls now were free to "choose" them. Yet the line between "get to" and "have to" blurs awfully fast. Even as new and professional opportunities unfurl before (the girls), so does the path that encourages them to equate identity with image, self-expression with appearance, feminity with performance, pleasure with pleasing, and sexuality with sexualisation.'

... by the time they are teenagers, the girls (quoting a study by Deborah Tolman, a Professor of human sexuality studies at the City University of New York) respond to questions about how their bodies feel - questions about sexuality or desire - by talking about how their bodies look. They say something like, "I felt like I looked good." Orenstein says, "My fear for my daughter, then, is not that she will someday act in a sexual way; it is that she will learn to act sexually against her own self-interest."  Something seen in victims of low self-esteem, and not a sign of empowerment.

Sounds eerily like something the manusmriti has advocated for the female half of the population long long ago, doesn't it? We have plenty of our own misplaced ideas and beliefs to correct without complicating things in this way, thank you very much!

So what's with the pink and blue? Let us consider here a discussion on children's fashions in the past few hundred years.

Disclaimer: The next two paragraphs have much to do only with patterns of fashion in the western world. India has a very different story - a veritable study in ethnology ... but that is a subject for an entirely different post. Suffice here to say that the pink v/s blue debate with all its history has made an entry to our country quite recently - though making waves enough to start worrying.

In the west, children of both genders wore only white, at the most, shades of grey, up to 6-7 years of age, for a very practical reason: soiled clothes could be cleaned only by boiling them, and coloureds were a waste. The styles were also similar, much like dresses, with boys' clothes buttoned up in the front and the girls' buttoned up behind. When pastels came in, both genders wore all colours. Around the time of WW1, pink was actually associated with boys, as it was considered a watered down version of red, a colour associated with strength and bravery.

Yet, today, all things feminine are associated with the colour pink - a belief that we have to thank Nazi Germany for. Just like they made it compulsary for Jews to put on a yellow Star of David to distinguish them, they issued pink stars to those men that they believed were homosexual - these too were part of the reprehensible Final Solution. This gave pink a 'non-masculine' tag, and was equated with all things feminine. This, of course, has been exploited by marketing divisions of companies like Disney and Mattel to widen the divide and create a market for girl things and boy things. Not just toys and clothes, but every b****y thing!

Magenta, an extraspectral colour
pic courtesy biotele.com

Let me put one thing straight. I have nothing against pink, and I think it is a beautiful colour. I have no problems using something pink, on the stipulation that it does not have the associations I have spoken of. Same goes for orange, grey, turquoise, white, green, blue, red, black, yellow, violet, and any other hue of the rainbow. Speaking of rainbows, pink is not even a colour from the spectrum- there is no wavelength that translates to pink. It is a trick played by our brain, that interprets a mixture of the wavelengths for red and violet as magenta, a deep shade of pink. Experimentally, this can be created by superimposing two different spectrums created by two prisms. Try it. Go ahead- click on this link to read the complete explanation. It's fascinating!

I would just like to mention a couple of things from the book at the end.

Cinderella's story as we know it is the one popularised by Charles Perrault. He, in turn, based it on a tale from the Grimm Brothers' collection of folktales and fairy tales. The tale of Aschenputtel, a fiesty girl who does not wait around for any fairy godmother or the prince to rescue her- complete with gory bits, now sanitised for our consumption to the point where we have a good and beautiful but wimpy heroine.

Peggy Orenstein also dedicates the last chapter to do-able remedies against the unstoppable and unavoidable onslaught of the girlie culture. And keeping in mind the natural rebelliousness of the fast-growing but impressionale children whose lives can get impacted.

Book Review: Nanberry - Black brother White

Pic courtesy harpercollins.com.au

Nanberry
Black Brother White
Written by Jackie French
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers, Australia
YA

It is the story of Nanberry, the 9yr old Eora (aborigine) boy whose life takes an unexpected turn when smallpox brought into Australia by the First Fleet carrying convicts wipes out almost his entire tribe. Surgeon John White, the fleet's surgeon, adopts him as a son, much to the chagrin of his housekeeper, who is surprised to realise that the 'native' is as much a human being as she is!

The rest of the book is a narrative told in the first person by the different characters.

John White, the surgeon of the First Fleet, and later at the newfound colony. A good man of strong convictions and a thirst for knowledge.

Rachel Turner, who survived a wrongly given death sentence and deportation to the convict colony. Who has rather genteel origins, and works as Surgeon White's housekeeper, and later becomes his emotional anchor and mother of his son, Andrew. Who later becomes one of the richest and well-loved women in Australia.

Nanberry himself- the black brother, who, blossoms under the love and care showered on him by his foster father Surgeon White, and Rachel, but is loath to relinquish his roots, and is unable to quite become the 'English gentleman' that his foster father wanted him to become. Especially after he finds himself a target of the other white people's prejudice.

Andrew White, the son, the white brother, who gets a privileged education in England, and becomes a hero in the battle against Napoleon.

Which, along with a handful more of characters, both English and Eora, makes for a kaleidoscope of emotions, motives, actions, stretching across a period of history from the first Bitish settlement in Australia in 1788 to after the Battle of Waterloo in 1815. A piece of history that is in many ways still taking a shape. We see the arrogance of the Europeans in their 'finders-keepers-owners' attitude which has shaped much of the history of colonisation. "Britain did not recognise the country as being inhabited as the natives did not cultivate the land, and were, therefore, 'uncivilized'. " We see the reasoning they used in their ruthless decimation of the original inhabitants of the Australian continent- the aborigines- and their relentless claiming of the land.

We see the utter bewilderment of the Eora who did not have the concept of  individual ownership of land and resources- through the voice of Nanberry Buckenau. Who, although fostered by an exceptionally enlightened man for his times, keeps his roots, and returns to his people and their ways from time to time. Even as a child, he refuses to answer to the English name given to him by his foster father, and responds only to his rightful name, Nanberry.

A piece of history that we know really took place, as there are written records of it. All the characters really lived, even Nanberry about whom there are records researched and listed in the bibliography by the author, Jackie French, whose book for children 'Diary of a Wombat' has been reviewed by me earlier. She traces her mother-in-law's ancestry back to the family into which one of Andrew White's daughters married.

In an extensive afterword, she says, "All history books are detective stories, and history writers must track down information and put it together exactly as a detective does....The events in this book are as true as I can make them. The first decades of the colony were an extraordinary and fascinating time. But there comes a point where a historian and author has to say, 'I don't know'. "


"Neither the English nor the Eora understood each other. In most cases, perhaps, they didn't want to...To me, now, Nanberry (Nanbree / Nanbaree in the records found) and Andrew White seem to be the first modern Australians, triumphantly accepting both sides of their heritage."

I will be entering this review for the 2011 Global Reading Challenge under Australasia, and for the Reading the World Challenge 2011 over at Papertigers.

Book review: Letters from a Father to His Daughter

Letters from a Father to His Daughter
Written by Jawaharlal Nehru
Published by Puffin Books, Penguin books India
Ages 8+ yrs

A father and his daughter. The bond has to be seen to be believed. When I see A and her father together, the affection is palpable. They often get into discussions about deep things- of late it has been religion, as we have friends of many faiths, and gender issues, especially those encountered at school!

By the nature of his work in the struggle for the freedom of India, Nehru was often away from his family, and his daughter was away at boarding school. Letters being the prime means of communication at the time, Nehru wrote these, which, according to the foreword written by him, were 'personal letters addressed to a little girl, ten years of age.' They, however, speak of many things. In the preface, written in 1973, Indira Gandhi writes, "they deal with the beginnings of the earth and of man's awareness of himself. They were not merely letters to be read and put away...they taught one to treat nature as a book."

The letters speak of the beginnings of the universe, the formation of the earth and its landforms, of pre-history, the beginnings of mankind, the migration of human beings- he shows great learning and vision in his conclusions- "It may be that the German and the Negro are descended from different types of men, but some time or other they must have had the same ancestor. The differences must therefore have come in by the process of adaption to their surroundings...so we find that people's complexions are the result of the climate they live in. They have nothing to do with the worthiness or goodness or beauty of a person." Explained wonderfully in this vein in language easy enough for a 10 yr old to understand.

He goes on to speak of races, religion- early beliefs and faiths, religions as we know them now, languages- the beginnings of communication by making meaningful sounds, of making meaningful marks leading to writing, of the relationships of the different languages of the world. He speaks of civilisation, the division of labour - leading to the patriarch- which led later to kings and kingdoms. And of ancient civilisations all over the world. About trade and travel.

He speaks of the coming of the Aryans to India, and the Ramayana and the Mahabharatha- I loved the simple way in which he has explained the gist of these great epics- again, putting them in an interesting perspective.

Of the Ramayana, he says, "The Ramayana, as you know, is the story of Ramchandra and Sita against Ravana, king of Lanka, that is now Ceylon...it may be that the story of the Ramayana is really the story of the fights of the Aryans against the people of the South whose leader was Ravana."

And the Mahabharatha- "It tells of a great fight between Aryans and Aryans. But apart from the fight, it is a wonderful book, full of great ideas and noble stories. Above all, it is dear to all of us because of that jewel of a poem which it contains--the Bhagavad Gita."

The book comprises 30 letters in all, short, independent reads each, or read in a sequence. Each is a story lucidly told, a father's affection for his daughter coming across in each. These letters were written over the summer of 1928, and retain all of their freshness for every child who has the opportunity of reading them. They have to be, of course, read in the context of terminologies used in the early 1900s, some of which might not be politically correct today.

This 2004 edition by Puffin is hardcover, printed on crisp white paper, and an easy-on-the-eyes font. With a fresh foreword by Priyanka Gandhi Vadra, Nehru's great-grand-daughter.

A loved it.

A logical follow-up to this book would be Nehru's Glimpses of World History, which was written from October 1930 to August 1933, as letters addressed from prison to his 13-16 year old daughter,  published much later.

Pic courtesy flipkart. Crossposted at Saffrontree and Bookreviews.

The course of an epic

Found an interesting discussion on the Mahabharatha here. The participants are obviously students, not experts. They have given a link from where they have sourced their material, but that link does not open. The participants' being students can be gauged from some irreverent material that has been posted. We can also obviously see that they are Amar Chitra Katha and Bollywood fans.

The interesting parts are

1. A light on how the epic has been adapted to a completely different culture and religion, which nevertheless made it their own. Here- Java /Indonesia.

2. A detailed timeline of the Mahabharatha complete with dates, times, and ages of the key characters at key events. This seems to have been deduced from the lunar calendar dates and times mentioned in the original epic, and a historical perspective.

Was the epic history? I don't know. Maybe the key events really did happen, as this discussion shows (this one is by people who have really studied the epic), and have been embellished with a lot of poetical licence. After all, we do say 'a history called Jaya' when speaking of the Mahabharatha.

Let me quote a bit from the timeline here, but do click on this link for the rest of it. And let me know what you think of the life expectancy.

"3. Yudhisthira's Birth : Yudhisthira was born on Pajothpatti Ashwin Bright 5th day, in Jyeshta Star, in Sagittarius Lagna, at midday Abhijit Muhurta. That was just years. 127-5-25 prior to Kaliyug (roughly 3229-8-15 B.C)"

"45. The Great Mahabharat War started on Shubhakrit Margashirsha Bright 13/14th Day, Tuesday in Bharani Star. Yudhishthir was yrs. 91-2-9 days old. Just the previous day 11/12th Day, when armies were rehearsing Vyuhas, Arjuna fell into a gloom, occasioning Lord Krishna's famous BhagavadGeeta discourse with Arjuna."

"62. Pandavas started for their Final End after 0-6-11 days, that is, on Pramadi Ashwayuja Bright 12th Day. Yudhishthir was aged yrs. 128-0-6. Parik$hit, 36 years old, was coronated on the same day at Hastinapur.

63. Swargaarohanam is not clearly stated in the Epic. It may be 26 years afterwards. Sage Veda Vyas dictated the Great Epic to Ganapati only after Swargarohanam of the Pandavas, that is, after 26 years of Kaliyug.

64. Parikshit ruled for 60 years, coronated his 25 year old son Janamejaya, and died.

65. So, Bhagavatha was written by Sage Veda Vyas soon after Mahabharat was over, and before the 60th year of the Kaliyuga.

66. In Dwapara Yuga, human beings lived upto 400 years. There are four stages in life - Balya, Youvana, Koumara and Vriddhapyam. In Dwaparyug, Balya stage was upto 40 years, Youvana stage upto 120 years, and later Koumara and Vriddhapyam stages. But now in the Kaliyuga, Balya stage is upto 15 years, Youvana upto 45 years, Koumara upto 60 years and Vriddhapyam beyond 60 years."

Review: Oranges in no man's land

Pic courtesy books.google.com

Oranges in no man's land
Written by Elizabeth Laird
Illustrated by Gary Blythe
Published by  Macmillan Children's Books
Ages 8-12 years.

10 yr old Ayesha lives with her mother, grandmother and two brothers in Civil war torn Beirut. Her mother gets killed by a bomb that also destroys their home, and they become refugees living in a shelter. Here Ayesha makes a friend, the deaf-mute girl her age, Samar. Life goes on, her grandmother their only parent.

Until one day, her grandmother becomes seriously ill. She has been ill for a long time now, and had medicines that she took for it, given to her by Dr Leila, for whom she had worked for many years. But now her medicines are over, and Dr Leila lives beyond the Green line, on the other side of the divide, beyond the 'no man's land' that lies between their portion of the city and hers.

So what is a mere 10 yr old to do? Does she manage to go to the good doctor and get medicines for her grandmother? How does she get past the armed solders gaurding the entrances to both sides and come back unscathed?

This is a touching story written by Elizabeth Baird, who lived in Beirut during the Lebanese Civil War which stretched from 1975-1990. It is based on some real life events and experiences, as she writes in her preface to the book.

The story brings home to us the fact that there are both good and bad people on both sides of any divide, and the common man usually wishes for peace, not war, so that normal life can go on. And that a war usually serves the few in power, with vested interests.

The sketch of Ayesha, running swiftly for all it's worth, looking furtively at something in the distance that she probably needs to be wary of, is a repeated motif throughout the book, at the title of each chapter. Done by Gary Blythe, (illustrator of other well known books like The Whale's Song, Rumer Godden's Miss Happiness and Miss Flower and Michael Morpurgo's I believe in Unicorns) they lend a sense of urgency to the books.

Crossposted at Saffrontree.

I am entering this book at the Reading The World Challenge 2011 over at Papertigers, for A. Under Fiction, Lebanon.

The Story of Hana, and how she did not remain just a Holocaust statistic

This is one of those rare books about the Holocaust that is written with and ease which will lie gently on younger children wanting to learn about it, as it stresses the positive throughout the otherwise stark and sad tale. I would recommend this to be one of the first books that may be used to introduce the Holocaust to young readers. I picked this book up on my last visit to Mumbai. The publishers, Jyotsna Prakashan, are one of the leading publishers of Marathi books for children, and this one is available in both Marathi and English versions. 

Pic courtesy infibeam

HANA'S SUITCASE
Written by Karen Levine
Published by Jyotsna Prakashan, by permission of Second Story Press
Ages 10 +

An estimated 11 million people were killed in the Holocaust, of which about 6 million were Jews. Bare statistics. Since then, many stories of those killed and of the survivors have come to light, bringing home the horror of it all, how many ordinary and extraordinary lives have been lost.

Hana Brady would have been just such one faceless statistic.

Our book begins in Tokyo, Japan, in the winter of 2000, when an ordinary looking tattered suitcase from Auschwitz arrives there. On it are these words painted in white- HANA BRADY, 16 May 1931, WAISENKIND (orphan in German). It was sent here from Auschwitz on request by the Tokyo Holocaust Education Resource Centre.

Pic courtesy:
Tokyo Holocaust Education
Resource Centre

Who was Hana Brady? What was her story? Fumiko Ishioka, the director of the museum, sets out to find out. This is the story of her journey to find out all about the girl, which takes her all the way from Auschwitz to Nove Mesto, in the former Czechoslovakia, where Hana's story begins.

A happy family of four- the parents and brother-sister, George and Hana. Their life changes in 1939 when the Nazis take over Czechoslovakia. Increasing sanctions make ordinary life difficult and then impossible by degrees, then first her mother and then father is deported.

Then one day, the two children are also deported to Theresienstadt, now Terezin, and they are permitted to take just one suitcase each with their personal belongings. There, they are separated, and later, Hana is transported to Auschwitz on 23rd October, 1944, where she is sent along with the rest of the girls straight from the train to the gas chamber. They had been commanded to leave their suitcases on the railway platform.

Pic courtesy hanassuitcase.ca
Fumiko and George with the suitcase

Fumiko Ishioka doggedly and painstakingly followed the leads from the entry of George and Hana Brady's name in the Nazi's registers to trace her journey, and found out about her death, but also the fact that George was known to have survived. By tracing other survivors who were with him in the concentation camp, she finally traced a 75 year old George Brady now residing in Canada, and got in touch with him.

Between them, they brought Hana's story to us, all his memories and the family photographs that he had saved, and which he now so generously shared. There were also many things that the siblings had put in a box and buried in their backyard all those years ago, in a game of 'burying treasure', that were found by another family now living there. Ensuring that she does not remain a faceless statistic. A lovely, lively human being, who was lost to the senseless genocide.

Pic courtesy radio.cz
Hana and George with their
mother Marketa 

The book by Karen Levine is simply written, shuttling between Hana's story in the 1930s, and the story of Fumiko's effort to bring it to us. There are plenty of real photographs of the Brady family, beginning with the toddler Hana to the 12 yr old Hana on the cover page, copies of the drawings Hana made in the Theresienstadt deportation centre, as also photostat copies of the Nazi records which Fumiko followed on her search.

The telling is gentle, though, so that even a child as young as 10 can read it. As A told me when we discussed the book after reading it, "I felt very sad, but it was not frightening."

Crossposted at Saffrontree and Bookreviews.

Am entering this review in Reading the World Challenge 2011 over at Papertigers for A under the Czech Republic.

Sidney Poitier - Life Beyond Measure



Pic courtesy teachwithmovies.org

The first I heard of Sidney Poitier was quite by accident, and without a realisation about the phenomenon that he is. This was way back in 1997, when we were in the US, and I picked up an interesting sounding movie at my library. It was about a young couple in love, and the girl gets the boy home to meet her parents. The boy is an extraordinarily well-educated person, with a responsible job in the UN, and by all accounts, a dream suitor for anyone's daughter. Reminded me of the Elizabeth Taylor classic- Father of the Bride, now re-made with Steve Martin and Diane Keaton as the parents.

Ordinary stuff, one would think. Except that it wasn't. The girl in question is a Caucasian, and the boy an African-American. What followed was extraordinary stuff indeed, considering that the movie was made in 1967, at a time when an inter-racial marriage was a punishable offence in at least 19 states in the US.

A wonderful movie. The parents are played by two of my favourites, Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn, a real-life couple, and the protagonist, John Prentiss, played by Sidney Poitier, all three Academy award winners, assisted ably by the newcomer who plays Joanna, the daughter. This was also the last movie in which Spencer Tracy acted, and he passed away a mere 17 days after filming ended.

Instead of telling you how the movie unfolds, I'll ask you to click on this link for a look at the movie trailer. Go on, click on it. It's a wonderful trailer, and if you've never watched the movie, it is worth your time.

I was fascinated by Sidney Poitier, bowled over, infact, (had quite a crush on him, if that word may be used!)and I proceeded to search out and watch all movies in which he has acted, all that I could lay my hands on. There was To Sir, with Love, based upon an autobiographical book of the same name by E. R. Braithwaite. There was A Patch of Blue, about a black man befriending a visually inpaired white girl, In the Heat of the Night, a crime thriller. There was Lilies of the Field, for which Poitier received an Oscar in 1963, becoming the first African American to receive the award for the Best Actor, male. He was all of 37. (He has also since received an Academy Honorary Award, "for his extraordinary performances and unique presence on the screen and for representing the industry with dignity, style and intelligence")

In every movie, one is struck with Sidney Poitier's persona and screen presence, and I was convinced that he was probably one of the priviledged few at the time among African Americans, who had had a wonderful opportunity at education. We are speaking, of course, of the 40s, 50s and 60s, at a time when the Civil rights movement had yet to give the wonderful results that have given us people like the present President of the US.

So when I came across two books penned by Sidney Poitier, his autobiography- The Measure of a Man, (which I have yet to read) and Life Beyond Measure, which is a collection of letters he has written for his great-grand-daughter, for her to read and know about the living history of her people when she is grown-up, I was amazed by what I read.

LIFE BEYOND MEASURE

Letters to my great-grand-daughter

Written by Sidney Poitier

Published by Simon & Schuster

Poitier undertook the writing of this book as a series of letters written to his great grand daughter, born around the time he was in his 70s.

He tells her of his humble beginnings, born as the youngest of a brood of poor farming parents. They lived on the Cat islands, in the Carribean, and it was just chance that Sidney was born on American soil. His parents had come to sell some produce in Florida- a simple thing to do at a time when there were no visa restrictions.

He had next to no schooling, and could not read or write very well when he was sent to America to make his fortune at the ripe young age of 16. Working in New York as a dish-washer, he chanced upon an advertisement for actors at a local theatre, but was rejected on account of his poor command on 'good' English.

Here was a turning point. A lesser person may have just not bothered bettering himself, and continued with his ordinary life. Not Sidney. He took it up as a challenge, and with the help of an elderly waiter, tutored himself, and presented himself to the same theatre group a year later. And the rest is history.

Poitier's letters tell us about his take on life, opportunities, faith, religion, family, love, commitments, marriage, fear, work, scientific advancements, war, health, and yes, about death, too. He does not dwell much on the films he has made, except when he needed to make a point. We also learn a lot about African-American history along the way. All in an easy conversational style reminiscent of a fable.

A legacy from a great-great-grandfather to his great-great-grandfather.

Crossposted at Bookreviews.

Have entered this review in the 2011 Global Reading Challenge in North America.