[Reader-list] Go, Fly A Kite!

[Rajendra Bhat Uppinangadi]

Very true, truth has many faces to look at..........!
Regards,

Rajen.

On Sat, Aug 15, 2009 at 11:10 PM, Sujata & Samantak <kokopeli at gmail.com>wrote:

> Dear Shuddha,
> Thank you for your wonderfully evocative piece on the "pornography" of
> state
> rituals on occasions like Independence Day and Republic Day. Your
> description of the mandatory flag hoisting and the expressions of those
> involved in these tragicomic moments was marvellously accurate and close to
> the bone.
>
> But, you know, there are still a few places and a few institutions where
> Independence Day and Republic Day are not mere empty (and, for their
> participants, slightly irritating) events, where "quiet, sober and personal
> reflection on what liberty might mean", as you put it, does take place,
> where the bloodletting of Partition is mourned and a quiet moment observed
> in memory of those whose blood was shed.
>
> These places are never, thankfully, in the glare of the media, nor are the
> institutions which organise such events usually located in cities. I know
> of
> several such small, rural NGOs and schools (or NGOs which run schools),
> where I have been privileged to observe precisely the kind of "celebration"
> of our freedom that would be, I think, more to your liking (and perhaps
> others who are on this list).
>
> And quite often, after the songs and the poems, the dances and the
> speeches,
> we have gone off to fly our kites before sitting down to a good wholesome
> (late) lunch and dozed off gently in the midst of a drowsy discussion of
> what freedom means...
>
> Happy Independence Day!
> Samantak
>
> 2009/8/15 Shuddhabrata Sengupta <shuddha at sarai.net>
>
> > Dear all,
> >
> > Here is the slightly longer, original version of a text by me on Kite
> > Flying that appeare in the latest issue of Outlook, to mark the 15th
> > of August. The version published in Outlook, titled 'Freedom on A
> > String'  is at http://www.outlookindia.com/article.aspx?261336
> >
> > Apologies for cross posting on Kafila
> >
> > best
> >
> > Shuddha
> >
> > -------------------------
> >
> >
> >
> > Go, Fly a Kite
> >
> > Shuddhabrata Sengupta
> >
> > There is almost nothing about rituals of statehood that appeals to
> > me. The speeches leave me cold and patriotic anthems are the worst,
> > most ponderous form of music ever performed or invented. As for the
> > pomp and circumstance of parades and other solemn but pathetic
> > attempts at grandeur - they only repeat their lessons in how distant
> > the apparatus of the state actually is from the lives of citizens.
> >
> >  Typically, my attention, when flags are raised up poles, is less on
> > the flag and more on the sweat on the brow of the man doing most of
> > the actual hoisting. Because flags, like nations, get stuck in their
> > destinies, and sometimes have to be tugged at vigorously to open and
> > flap about, or let loose their meagre shower of yesterday's
> > desiccated flower petals. The palpable anxiety of the hoister (who is
> > worried about what might get written into his confidential report if
> > the string snaps, or the flag stay’s tied up) and the thinly masked
> > frustration on the visage of the attendant dignitary, (be they the
> > principal of a school or the president of a republic ) who wants it
> > all over and done with as quickly as possible, are the two
> > performances that I find most moving on these moments. Apart, that
> > is, from the sporadic defecations of ceremonial cavalry horses,
> > caparisoned elephants and aloof camels brought out to lend the parade
> > of the moment a touch of bio-diversity. Somehow, they ring truer than
> > most other attempts to mark such occasions.
> >
> >  Republic Day, with its pornography of ordnance, enormous waste of
> > public money and tacky tableaux is probably the worst offender, but
> > Independence Day, with its schoolchildren bused out to the Red Fort
> > in Delhi and made to suffer the humiliation of security checks at the
> > crack of a humid dawn, doesn't rank far behind. They, (the
> > schoolchildren at Red Fort) lose a well-earned holiday, and nowadays,
> > the rest of India gets a pious homily from behind bullet-proof glass.
> > Rather than being an occasion for quiet, sober and perhaps personal
> > reflection on what liberty might mean (especially when so many
> > subjects of this republic are denied its substance) and whether it
> > really needs to come all dressed up in the masquerade of a hollow
> > state ritual, Independence Day has become an empty vessel for an
> > increasingly narcissistic commemoration of what it means to simply
> > 'be' Indian, as if that were of any real consequence. Meanwhile, the
> > violence that marked partition, co-incident with 'Independence', goes
> > un-mourned in India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. The bizarre
> > continuities, ranging from law and governance to the arcana of state
> > ceremonials, between colonialism and its posthumous progeny -
> > republican nationhood, remain un-reflected upon. What we get instead
> > is an annual faux carnival of top-ten lists to do with an invented
> > 'Indian-ness' dished out by magazines and television decked out in
> > tri-colour bad taste.
> >
> >  But there is something about the fifteenth of August that still
> > means a lot to me, and that isn't about flying flags. It's about
> > flying kites. The fifteenth of August, as anyone growing up in North
> > India ought to know, is really all about manja and pench, about
> > letting loose a full throated cry 'bho-katta', when an airborne kite
> > snaps from its string in the sky, and the mad run and skirmish for
> > its capture that follows before it hits the earth.  Its about
> > decoding a persons passions from the colours they choose for their
> > kites, about learning to test the strength of paper and to sense the
> > wind by licking your finger. These, and other elementary lessons in
> > areodynamics are still reasons to look forward to the fifteenth of
> > August each year.
> >
> > Perhaps it's a throwback to the boyhood thrill of holding a taut kite-
> > string in the precarious rooftops and bylanes of a ‘refuzee’ colony
> > in west Delhi, head cocked up, eyes locked in a steadfast gaze intent
> > on scanning the clouded August sky, tracking distant, tiny but
> > majestic diamonds of colour as the kites danced to the wind. Their
> > flight taught me more about ‘attaining liberty’ and their spiralling
> > descent more about ‘losing it’ than all the civics lessons on the
> > meaning and significance of ‘Independence Day’ ever could.
> >
> >  Anand Bakshi, in writing the lyrics for the film Kati Patang,
> > (Drifting Kite) did not know that he had, perhaps unwittingly gifted
> > us with the one of the most pithy ways of thinking about the destiny
> > of nationhood and nationalism, that at least I know about. As the
> > song goes, 'Na koi umang hai, na koi tarang hai', -  there is neither
> > a surge, nor a wave. Ships of state adrift in still, motionless
> > waters, their flags just about fluttering in a spent tailwind, are to
> > me like so many kati patang, drifting kites; neither surge, nor wave,
> > and certainly no pious ritual, can lift them out of their torpor.
> >
> >  What can one do, in such circumstances, but heed the call of Mary
> > Poppins and her friends, Mr. Banks and Bert, and simply, 'go fly a
> > kite'.
> >
> >  "With tuppence for paper and strings
> >
> > You can have your own set of wings
> >
> > With your feet on the ground
> >
> > You're a bird in a flight
> >
> > With your fist holding tight
> >
> > To the string of your kite
> >
> >
> >
> > Oh, oh, oh!
> >
> > Let's go fly a kite
> >
> > Up to the highest height!
> >
> > Let's go fly a kite and send it soaring
> >
> > Up through the atmosphere
> >
> > Up where the air is clear
> >
> > Oh, let's go fly a kite!'
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
> > Shuddhabrata Sengupta
> > The Sarai Programme at CSDS
> > Raqs Media Collective
> > shuddha at sarai.net
> > www.sarai.net
> > www.raqsmediacollective.net
> >
> >
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-- 
Rajen.