Contents

Preface

Acknowledgments

The Green Boy

Peter

Ramadi

Karna

The Great Ghost Hunt

Kaliyo

Tufan

Millennium Old Ahalya

Anjali Khandwalla (author)

Born in Mumbai in 1940 in a religious but liberal Gujarati family, Anjali Khandwalla has absorbed many influences. She went to New Era School in Mumbai where Gandhi and Tagore were icons, and all the religions were equally respected. An M.A. in philosophy and psychology at Wilson College, Mumbai, exposed her to Western thought. From 1967 to 1975 she lived in North America, where she taught courses on East-West Cultures and Quest of the Self at Vanier College, Montreal. She was a performing Indian classical vocalist who was trained by Ustad Niaz Ahmed and Ustad Faiyaz Ahmed of Kirana Gharana. She wandered in the towns and villages of South Gujarat to study its rich folk music, and she gave many concerts of these folk songs. Her interest in creativity has led her to conduct workshops on creativity and self-development for young people, married ladies, and social workers. She also has a strong interest in gardening, landscaping and interior decor. Her multi-faceted experiences have enabled her to explore a wide range of themes in her stories.

Anjali Khandwalla avoids pompous language and elliptical prose. Her prose is graphic and straightforward, and she frequently uses colloquialisms to spice her language. She does not use sex and violence as props. Yet her stories grip the reader because of their imaginative, offbeat content, finely etched Indian contexts, sizzling dialogues, a rich feel for human relationships and emotions, intriguing situations, and a flair for vivid descriptions. Some of her stories have been translated into several Indian languages, and she has earned many laurels: Critics Award—Sandhan, for the best book of Gujarati short stories of 1988; Gujarat Sahitya Sabha Award for her book ‘Lilo Chhokaro’ (Green Boy), for being the best book by a woman writer during 1984 to 1986; Gujarat Sahitya Academy first prize, 1986, for her collection of short stories (‘Lilo Chhokaro’); and so forth. Besides ‘Lilo Chhokaro’, published by R. R. Sheth, from which the stories in this collection have been translated, she has authored another collection of stories titled ‘Aankh Ni Imarato’ (Edifices of the Eye). An English translation of the stories in ‘Aankhni Imarato’ and a few other stories has been published as ‘Black Rose and Other Stories’ by Sanbun Publishers.

Pradip N Khandwalla (translator)

Pradip Khandwalla, the translator, is a poet who writes in English and Gujarati. His literary works include three books of poems in English, namely ‘Wild Words’, ‘Out’, and ‘Incarnations’. His ‘Adhyatmik Krantina Phool’ (Flowers of a Spiritual Revolution) consists of translations into Gujarati via English of over a hundred ‘vachanas’ of the Sharana or Veer Shaiva poets of the 11th and 12th century Karnataka in South-West India. The book got him the Gopalrao Vidhwans award of Gujarati Sahitya Parishad, Gujarat’s premier literary body, and also an award given by Gujarat Sahitya Academy. Some of his English translations of Gujarati poems have been published in Indian Literature. Gujarat Sahitya Academy has published ‘Vedanana Shikharo’ (Peaks of Pain), his translation into Gujarati of Rilke’s celebrated ‘Duino Elegies’. His translation of a volume of Gujarati short stories of Anjali Khandwalla titled ‘Black Rose and Other Stories’ has been published by Sanbun Publishers. His volume of the translation into English of over 200 offbeat Gujarati poems, titled ‘Beyond the Beaten Track: Offbeat Poems from Gujarat’, has been published by Gujarati Sahitya Parishad. He has recently completed the trans-creation into Gujarati of some 300 poems originally written by him in English. This book is titled ‘Manthan’ (Churning). He has also published a book of critical essays in Gujarati.

Professionally, Pradip Khandwalla is an internationally known management scholar. He has an MBA from Wharton School, University of Pennsylvania and a Ph.D. from Carnegie-Mellon University, U.S. He taught at McGill University, Canada, for several years before returning to India in 1975. Until his retirement in 2002, he was a professor at Indian Institute of Management Ahmedabad where he held the L&T Chair in Organization Behaviour from 1985 to 1991, and served as the Director from 1991 to 1996. He has published well over a dozen professional books, including three books on creativity. One of his books on creativity has got DMA’s best book of the year award, while another has got translated into Mandarin for distribution in China. One more book, ‘Creative Society: Prospects for India’ is under publication. He has been the recipient of the Lifetime Achievement Award of World HRD Congress for professional contributions.

Dedicated to Padmama

PREFACE

T his is a collection of eight stories about a special breed of young, resourceful, and energetic Indian men and women with a powerful commitment to their way of life. What is common between a youthful Canadian of Indian origin, who sets off for India to discover himself, and a lower middle class schoolgirl whose yearning for expressing herself through painting is choked by her parents? Or, between a botanist’s son who can communicate with plants, an adolescent small town brahmin boy who loves to dissect dead animals, and a child-servant who wants passionately to be an innovative farmer? Or, between a youthful female mountaineer who lands herself into a world a thousand years in the future, a girl terrified of ghosts, and the son of a temple priest who is fascinated more by the rocks in riverside caverns than the idol in the temple? Passion for achieving something personally meaningful, persistence, humane sensitivity, and creativity are the traits common to these young Indians, in short supply in contemporary Indian youth. They fight pitched battles with their restrainers as well as with themselves for the freedom to pursue what moves them, and succeed in carving out astonishing niches. Multiply such dynamos a million-fold, and you have a vibrant, pre-eminent civilization.

The rearing in many Indian families and the teaching in most Indian schools are such that youngsters develop serious psychological blocks: excessive fear of failure that saps initiative; lack of confidence in dealing with the members of the opposite sex; an immobilizing conformity to social or parental norms; stereotyped perceptions of people of other communities; extreme dependency on ‘elders’; social prestige driven choice of careers rather than a choice based on one’s strengths and deepest yearnings, and risk aversion. The stories take head on the hang-ups from which many Indians suffer, and provide fresh ways of breaking out of these shackles. Although these stories are fictional, the discerning will find examples in real life of the kinds of people depicted in the stories and the struggles they go through to make their lives meaningful.

These stories paint a variety of Indian contexts. India is a collage of diverse lifestyles, and these stories vividly conjure them up. While one story is set in a lower middle class household, others are set in an upper class joint family, a Canadian Indian home, in the humble quarters of an abandoned countryside temple, in the farmhouse of an urbane scientist, and so forth. The characters are imaginary; but the stories seek to capture for the reader the vibrancy and diversity of contemporary India. The brief profiles of these stories are as follows:

The Green Boy is the story of Paurav, a boy with a ‘green thumb’ who can communicate with plants and can share their pains and pleasures. How does he prove to his botanist father, or, indeed to the rest of the world, that he can talk with plants? He sets out to prove this, and improvises many experiments. The story blends the scientific and the poetic, and the fusion extends our awareness of who we can be, for Paurav realizes that he can be both human and tree!

Peter: The author uses her teaching experience in Canada to advantage in weaving the adventurous tale of a Canadian young man of Indian origin who seeks to understand his Indian identity in the Himalayas at the feet of a spiritual master, in a Mumbai slum, and as a beggar on Mathura’s streets. His offbeat experiences turn him into the principal of an uncommon school!

Ramadi is the story of a plain, lower middle class schoolgirl with a questing mind and a flair for painting. She struggles with the conservatism of her family and with her own personal hang-ups, reaches for the paintbrush with the help of an enthusiastic mentor, and exits from her prison into a wondrous landscape of freedom and colours.

Karna, the son of the chief priest of a small town in Gujarat has a problem: he loves to dissect carcasses to peer into their anatomy. But he runs smack into his parents’ brahminical orthodoxy. He pushes off to the alien world of Mumbai to forge his destiny. He runs into a doctor who turns into a mentor and foster father. With luck and untiring effort he becomes a path-breaking expert on organ transplants. But his fame flings him back to his family, with nearly catastrophic emotional consequences.

The Great Ghost Hunt: Fear of the unknown often puts a full stop to enterprise. Overcoming terrors ingrained in childhood is every bit as heroic an enterprise as conquering a peak, and equally joyous. The author recounts the struggles of Avani to rid her mind of the fear of ghosts ingrained in her in childhood by the tales of a cook. Thereby, when she grows up, she rids others, too, of the spirits creeping about in the dark caverns of the mind.

Kaliyo: Child servants are still common in urban Indian homes. Kaliyo is one such, sent off out of dire necessity from his home in a Rajasthan village to work in a town in Gujarat. He finds a kindred soul his age: Shamli, his master’s daughter. She helps Kaliyo, a peasant’s son, to become an innovative farmer. Kaliyo gets beaten up at the height of his success, but stays the course and gives his farm a green shine.

Tufan is a lad who lives in a temple outside a village. He gets engrossed in clods and rocks because he can distil pigments from them. He seeks out a well-known painter in a city who becomes his mentor and customer. The grown up Tufan goes into the business of making and selling colours. But the entrepreneur’s path is paved by thorny people. At the end there is a smile on the face of Tufan and his team, though their eyes remain wary.

Millennium Old Ahalya: A snowstorm in the Himalayas claims the life of a vivacious young mountaineer. A thousand years later, her frozen body is restored to life by a team of scientists. The people she meets are peace-loving but emotionally and physically anemic. She finds them amazing but intolerable, and the feelings are mutual. There is a titanic struggle, and the outcome is the renewal of the human race.

All eight stories have been translated from Anjali Khandwalla’a awards-winning book ‘Lilo Chhokaro’ (The Green Boy). Translating stories from Gujarati, or for that matter from any Indian language into English, poses many challenges because of differences in idiom, connotations of words, and sentence structure. The difficulties are compounded when the stories are written in a style full of forceful graphic images and allusions that sound fine in the original but clumsy in literal translation. The translator therefore abandoned any attempt at literal translation and trans-created them to read like stories written in (Indian) English—with enough of Indianness, but not to the point that the reader finds it awkward. Luckily, the translator had ready access to the author, and so it was possible to be reasonably faithful both to the original text and to the intended meanings of its phrases.

These stories have many strengths: lucidity; racy narration; eye-popping imagery; diversity of settings; memorable characters; a very positive message; and gripping story-content. Many young people as well as older people were enchanted with the stories in their original form in Gujarati. Those who read fiction in English may also find them memorable.

-Translator

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I owe a debt of gratitude to Anjali Khandwalla for painstakingly going through the first drafts of the translations of her stories and for making many useful suggestions. I am very grateful to Jitu Mishra for help in designing the cover pages of the book. I also availed of the help of Gayatri Parekh for this purpose. A number of persons graciously allowed their photos to be displayed on the cover page. These include Ashish Amin, Shama Desai, Jagdish Municha, Sreejit Nair, Saloni Shah, Shyamal Shodhan, Dharti Thaker, Prashant Trivedi, and Diti Vyas. I am grateful to Dia Mercado of Partridge Publications for clarifying many points connected with this publication.

Translator

THE GREEN BOY

P appa… Pappa… Pappa squealed five-year old Paurav. He flew up the stairs to his father’s study, pushed the door open, and entered it. Get up Pappa, the tree is walking, he cried twice or thrice in a shrill, cracking voice. Eyes popping, he tugged with his little fingers at the collar of his Pappa, who was engrossed in writing. The father got up with a jerk, as if startled awake from slumber. Holding his father’s fingers in a vice-like grip, Paurav dragged his father off to the living room on the ground floor.

Look Pappa! He… is coming near me, Paurav said in joyous amazement. He pointed to a potted rubber plant kept in a corner. Dr. Mehta, one of the country’s well-known botanists, stared at the plant and rubbed his eyes.

Pappa! He wants to go out into the sunlight. He is telling me to take him out of this room.

Paurav, a tree does not walk or speak—such things happen only in a story.

But Pappa! Look… !

Come, let us go and meet Mithu Uncle. The father grabbed Paurav’s arm. Paurav was quite well behaved and rather mature for his age; but that day he threw a tantrum. The servants had to lift the pot and put it down outside the house. Paurav then caressed the leaves of the plant and said, You bathe in the sunshine, while I go to Chocolate Uncle’s house. Okay?

Two days earlier, Paurav had fallen down from a mango tree while trying to pluck some raw fruit. He had fallen into a heap of dry leaves. The gardener, who was standing below the tree, had immediately lifted up Paurav and made sure that he was not seriously hurt. Earlier, the gardener had complained to the master about Paurav’s climbing trees once too often. The father had put the matter aside, and had continued to read his paper. But now, hearing Paurav’s mad talk of the plant walking