e autobiographies produced in the Indian literary tradition are of different kinds and do not follow the strict definition provided by the West. Mahatma Gandhi’s The Story of My Experiments with Truth or Rassundari Devi’s Amar Jiban are not only written in different styles but also experimented with different aspects of a person’s life. Similarly, Ushakiran Khan’s life journey does not technically fall into the clear category of autobiography.
Yadav’s Keedajadi takes you for a casual stroll in the Abode of Gods (Devbhoomi) meanwhile befriending the people inhabiting the land and creates a gripping narrative around the Himalayan aphrodisiac ‘keedajadi’.
Anuradha Beniwal describes her trip to Latvia, a place that is remarkably under-explored, in the first chapter of the book. This is probably a unique choice for a travel writer. She is able to see and record aspects of daily life that are off-limits to tourists by living with a local family.
Never short of cultural-mythical euphemisms, invocations of cultural analogies in Indian politics come almost instinctually to the nativists seeking to draw an indigenous parallel to the mode of modern political governance. It serves as veritable testimony of the profound cultural complex with western political ideologies among the political conservatives, but it also reflects their deep anxiety and political will to negotiate with western political ideologies in autochthonous cultural terms.
Anamika doesn’t like the liberties Tagore took with his own translations, but she doesn’t also mention if Satchidanandan took any. [ihc-hide-content ihc_mb_type="block" ihc_mb_who="unreg" ihc_mb_template="1" ]
Yet Jhumpa Lahiri found much to correct and improve in the original when she was translating her novel from Italian into English (as Whereabouts
With enough on this abundant earth to feed everyone for many lifetimes and when one is well fed, it is easy to forget that hunger drives the world even today. The novel opens with a chapter titled ‘Bhat’(cooked rice) in which Garib Das, father of the titular bhaga hua ladka, the runaway boy who will be born later that night, walks a long distance, hungry and weary, to ask the local well-to-do Brahmin Shivnath Bhattacharya for some rice.