When Peacocks Dance

Juhi Sinha

Description

Who can suppress excitement at the first sighting of looming monsoon clouds? Who can deny the joyful prospect of relief from the unrelenting heat of an Indian summer? The season draws every corner of our vast, diverse country together regardless of what we call it, how we deal with it or where we live, we all understand the monsoon. In this anthology, Juhi Sinha celebrates the monsoon with monsoon recipes and festivals from different parts of the country, and fiction and poetry both modern and historical. With Khushwant Singh, Ruskin Bond and Rabindranath Tagore; the Meghaduta, the Ramayana and the Rig Veda; and, of course, Alexander Frater, this book is the perfect medley to bring the rains alive anytime and anywhere.

Sujets

• Poetry

Informations

• Publié par: Penguin Books Ltd
• Date de parution: 15 août 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9789351181798
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

Edited by Juhi Sinha

WHEN PEACOCKS DANCE
Writing on the Monsoon
Contents
About the Author
Dedication
Introduction
Varuna
Ralph T.H. Griffith
SECTION I : SOUTH
Barsaat
Quli Qutab Shah
Muhil (Cloud)
Surada
From The Rains in the Nilgiri Mountains
Romesh C. Dutt
Rain
B. Sugathakumari
From Jaisurya
Kamala Das
Galivana (The Storm)
Palagummi Padmaraju
Festivals of the Rainy Season: Onam
Rain Recipes: Pazhampori, Kerala; and Chilli Bajji, Karnataka
The Rains
Ralph T.H. Griffith
SECTION II : WEST
Rain
Randhir Khare
The Deluge-Love Story (1951)
Juhi Sinha
Festivals of the Rainy Season: Ganesh Chaturthi
Rain Recipes: Raj Kachori, Rajasthan
Monsoon Destinations: Matheran , Udaipur and Mandu
From Meghad tam
K lid sa
SECTION III : NORTH
Rain in the Hills
Ruskin Bond
Monsoon Is Not Another Word for Rain
Khushwant Singh
Rain Recipes: Aloo Matar Ki Tikki, Punjab
Festivals of the Rainy Season: Teej
Chasing the Monsoon-Delhi
Alexander Frater
Monsoon Schizophrenia
Juhi Sinha
A Monsoon Diary
Julian Crandall Hollick
Rain in Kumaon
Ira Pande
An Account of Sawani Celebrations in the Words of Apa Jan
Jahanara Habibullah
Begum Akhtar
Juhi Sinha
Benaras
Juhi Sinha
Kajari-Benaras
Juhi Sinha
The Monsoon and Rain
John Hobart Caunter, Thomas Bacon and Albert Hervey
SECTION IV : EAST
The Meghad ta
Rabindranath Tagore
Small Histories Recalled in the Season of Rain
Mamang Dai
From Gitanjali
Rabindranath Tagore
Brishti Ar Jhar (Rain and Wind)
Buddhadeva Bose
A Crack of Thunder
Manoj Das
Festivals of the Rainy Season: Rath Yatra and Raja Sankranti
Rain Recipes: Pyaaji , West Bengal; and Masala Chai, Bihar
Monsoon Destinations: Cherrapunji, Meghalaya
FINAL PIECE
Chasing the Monsoon-Trivandrum (Kerala)
Alexander Frater
Notes on Contributors
Acknowledgements
Copyright Acknowledgements
Follow Penguin
Copyright Page
PENGUIN BOOKS
WHEN PEACOCKS DANCE
Juhi Sinha has written for several newspapers and magazines in India, including the Times of India , Indian Express , the Hindustan Times , Reader s Digest , Swagat , Femina and Discover India , as a freelance journalist. Her short stories have won prizes in international competitions (BBC and the Tom Howard short-story contest, USA). She is also involved with production, scripting and direction of television programmes and films.
For my husband, Arun, without whose dedicated research this book would not have been possible. For his unstinting support in this, and all my other projects. For Misha and Advait, whose encouragement and cheerful (often irreverent!) suggestions always brighten my day.
Introduction
Juhi Sinha
The build-up to the arrival of the rains has all the elements of high drama. There is the waiting, the anticipation, the feeling that the heat and humidity can no longer be humanly endured. And then there is the imagined delight of that first gust of monsoon winds, laden with the intoxicating fragrance of damp earth, the changing hues of the skies, the welcome darkening of the day and the splatter of the first heavy raindrop.
Everything changes with the arrival of the monsoon-land, sky, temperature, colours, fruits, flowers and the very expression on people s faces as they greet the change of season. It is preceded by a long wait, the suffering of hot, humid days, the burning roads and highways, the concrete buildings that radiate heat and the power cuts that plague a populous nation that has discovered air conditioning.
At the beginning of summer, there is acceptance of a season that comes every year alongside the belief that it will end with the monsoon. The harsh realities of the discomfort have yet to set in. But by the middle of May the peninsula heats up and the hot, dust-laden winds from across the Thar lash the north and the west; each day gets hotter and the dull, metallic, unforgiving sky offers no relief even at night. The stifling weeks stretch on, sapping one s endurance, and there is only one hope: the monsoon, when it comes, if it comes.
When the first rains announce their arrival, relief is writ large on every face. The dusty roads and avenues are washed clean; the trees drooping from the oppression of the summer heat toss their heads with joy and freedom in the wind and rain. There is hope and optimism in the air, for the rivers, lakes, ponds and wells are full, as will be the food basket, soon.
In this collection of monsoon writings, I have tried to give the reader a monsoon experience-a multi-hued bouquet of prose and poetry, music and songs, recipes and reminiscences redolent with both yearning and romance. I have selected pieces and arranged them in seeming disorder to provide variety and interest. It is an attempt to make the delights of the monsoon available at will, throughout the year, year after year!
VARUNA
Hymn LXXXV, Book 5, Rig Veda
Text available at http://www.sacred-texts.com/hin/rigveda/rv05085.htm .
Sing forth a hymn sublime and solemn, grateful to glorious. Varuna, imperial Ruler,
Who hath struck out, like one who slays the victim, earth as a skin to spread in front of S rya.
In the tree-tops the air he hath extended, put milk in kine and vigorous speed in horses,
Set intellect in hearts, fire in the waters, Siurya in heaven and Soma on the mountain.
Varuna lets the big cask, opening downward, flow through the heaven and earth and air s mid-region.
Therewith the universe s Sovran waters earth as the shower of rain bedews the barley.
When Varuna is fain for milk he moistens the sky, the land, and earth to her foundation.
Then straight the mountains clothe them in the rain-
cloud: the Heroes, putting forth their vigour, loose them.
I will declare this mighty deed of magic, of glorious Varuna the Lord Immortal,
Who standing in the firmament hath meted the earth out with the Sun as with a measure.
None, verily, hath ever let or hindered this the most wise God s mighty deed of magic,
Whereby with all their flood, the lucid rivers fill not one sea wherein they pour their waters.
If we have sinned against the man who loves us, have ever wronged a brother, friend, or comrade,
The neighbour ever with us, or a stranger, O Varuna, remove from us the trespass.
If we, as gamesters cheat at play, have cheated, done wrong unwittingly or sinned of purpose,
Cast all these sins away like loosened fetters, and, Varuna let us be thine own beloved.
Translated by Ralph T.H. Griffith (1896)
Section 1


SOUTH
Barsaat
Quli Qutab Shah
This English translation was originally published in Masterpieces of Urdu Nazm , Sterling Publishers, 1996.
Rut aaya kalman ka hua raaj,
Hari daal sir phoolan ke taaj.
With the birth of rainy season begins the reign of buds, Green branches now will don crowns of roses on their heads.
Meinhun bund ka laio hat payala,
Rut naarman saajen ekas the yak saaj.
Hold the cups in your hands, fill them with the drops of rain,
There they come, fervour-charged, beauties richly decked and dressed.
Tan thandat larzat, jaban garjat,
Peeaa mukh dekhat kanchiky kas bakse aaj.
Their bodies quiver in chilly air, their bosoms bounce and throb,
As they see their love approach, their stays, it seems, would snap and burst.
Naari mukh jhamke jaise bijly,
Anjal baa uk mein suhe us laaj.
The damsel s face emits a glow like the lightning flash, And she draws over her face the mantle slipping from her head.
Kes phool dese sitaare asmaan,
Is zamane ki pari Padmini aae aaj.
The flowers that adorn her hair shine like the stars on high, She is Padmini of to-day, dressed in her charming best.
Chaundhir garjat hor meinhon barsat,
Ishq ke chamne chaman moran ka hai raaj.
Thunder and lightning fill the sky, heavily doth it pour, The peacocks with their lilting songs set the grove aburst.
Hazrat Mustifa ke sadqe, aaya barsh kala,
Qutab Shah ishq karo din din raaj.
Glory be to Prophet the great, who sent the rains from heaven,
May your reign flourish, O Qutaba, your amorous court be blessed!
Translated by K.C. Kanda
Muhil (Cloud)
Surada
From Indian Poetry Today , Vol. I, edited by Keshav Malik, Indian Council for Cultural Relations, 1974.
Oh, woman,
you embrace the sea
and come
bearing the waters of the ocean in your womb;
you sleep among the mountains
and come
to give us the wealth you have gathered;
thunder heralding
your black beauty
you come
to bring us coolness
and dispel the heat of the sun.
But for you
Will the peacocks dance,
or the bees sing?
Will the hot earth cool down
and the farm-lands prosper?
You came
and
the red bud burst into flame;
the dark-blue flowers danced
like the eyes of a maid;
the creeper gently swayed
like a nymph slim of waist;
like a rumbling chariot
the big tree bloomed.
You bend a bow
but arrows you have none;
to rise and float above
is your nature,
and then,
in a myriad drops
pour down your waters-
that s your job,
as poetry mine.
Hail to thee. Oh, cloud!
Blessed friend of tiller and tenant,
oh, cloud, rain!
Translated by P.G. Sundararajan
From The Rains in the Nilgiri Mountains
Romesh C. Dutt
From Ramayana: Epic of Ram, Prince of India , Rupa, 2003.
Mark the shadowing rain and tempest, Rama to his brother said,
As on Malya s cloud-capped ranges in their hermit-guise they strayed,
Massive clouds like rolling mountains gather thick and gather high,
Lurid lightnings glint and sparkle, pealing thunders shake the sky,
Pregnant with the ocean moisture by the solar ray instilled,
Now the skies like fruitful mothers are with grateful waters filled!
Mark the folds of cloudy masses, ladder-like of smooth ascent,
One could almost reach the sun-god, wreath him with a wreath of scent,
And when glow these heavy masses red and white with evening s glow,
One could almost deem them sword-cuts branded by some heavenly foe!
Mark the streaks of golden lustre lighting up the checkered