...And, we're back!

Arjun's Arangetram (Debut recital)

The excitement of preparing for the arangetram is over. The anticipation of Tara's arrival is done with. The grand day has come and gone. That there was not even entry-room, let alone standing-room in the august Sastri Hall venue was noted with some pride. Arjun's performance that evening has since been throughly analyzed. The words of the chief guests, especially the senior vidwans = musicians, were awarded the same treatment as a work of literature would be by an English major. The compliments and the phone calls passed on to everyone in the family. And before you know it, they are on a plane to LA (that they were stuck in the runway for 8 hours, thanks to the immigration computer glitch only added to the post-departure excitement), and it is all over.

Above: L-R: Arjun, Dr. Karthik on ghatam, S. Saketharam, the vocalist, the Thambura gent, and Sri. Vittal Ramamurthy on the violin.

Below: My mother with her two grand daughters, Swathi and Rajani. Below Right: The welcoming party: sister, Geetha, Niece Swathi, and Rajani


We had a family gathering on the eve of Tara's departure, in our house. p.s. This is the first time that we are together - the entire family, all members - ever! (minus Kanchi and Krishna, of course) We almost had one in Alaska, in 1998, but were missing my mother.

I can now relate to what the family staying back must feel, once we leave for the States: Yeah! The suitcases have left! More space for us! But, seriously, I sort of miss the frequent ringing of my cell phone, and the silly ring tone that Arjun's phone came with.

The Cellular Irritant:

Do you know that when you call someone in Chennai, you rarely hear the old fashioned "ring ring?" It could be anything from a slokam (if you are religiously inclined), to the latest "va ji, Shivaji" from our superstar's hit movie, or an extremely annoying high pitched
instrumental version of classics like "vande matram," or an Ilayaraja hit. (Obviously, if, like me, you are outside of the pop Hindi and Tamil culture, you simply have no clue what is playing.) Rajani simply starts shaking her hips everytime she hears someone's cell phone ring! This
past weekend, at Ramesh's parents home, were held religious services for the first death anniversary of his grandmother. You can imagine the sight, when amidst the chanting of mantras and crackling of fire, rang a particularly peppy number on a priest's cell phone. I could not tell whether the stern look from the head priest was directed at the song's lyrics or Rajani's hip swaying! Airtel, which provides a land line along with its broadband services, also offers a musical jingle instead of a "ring ring, you can ring my pho-oh-ne, ring my bell!"

On Chennai Libraries and Book stores:

My first experience in a library, that I can recall, was at the Dar-es-Salaam Maktaba = library. As a ten-year old, I was given 2 cards to go to the children's section in the basement. My first library book, that I recall, was an abridged, but beautifully illustrated Wizard of Oz. Little did I know then that I was to go one to become a librarian and have a passion for the importance of libraries in children's lives. [That I could not go inside the Maktaba when I was there in Dar last
July is a still a sore point.]

Chennai's Libraries:

Chennai is not with out its libraries. The Connemara library is a formidable institution. As is the Madras Central Library. Run down Ranade, in the heart of Mylapore, frequented by the 70-plus for its volumes on the Gita, Bhavan's Journal, and other spiritual readers. Each community also has a "district branch" library with regular hours, stocking Tamil books and newspapers, and now a couple of shelves of English books in the children's section. [We have become members of the Indira Nagar library, and when I approached the librarian on the concept of a story hour, he looked at me like I was from Mars. But recovered enough to tell me that salaries were too low to incorporate such activities.] The IIT-M's central library has newly incorporated a children's corner, with a collection of Indian and foreign picture books in no particular order.

The concept of the "Lending Library" has been in existance since my childhood. I recall my sisters going to the Eshwari Lending Library to "borrow" English thrillers in paperback. Lending libraries were fee-based, and one paid a buck or two per book. These visits helped while away the summer months - we read and slept the afternoons away. This is where we found Amar Chitra Kathas, Archie comics (you can't imagine what a big news item it is that an Indian character has been introduced in to the strips. Indians are die-hard Archie fans!), and Tin Tin.

What we read:

Books for Indian children has always been restricted to the classics - either abridged and complete editions of classic British and American literature, or the myriad tales from the Indian lore, in the form of Jataka Tales, Panchathanthra stories, or stories from history, The Ramayana, and The Mahabharata. These tales are prolifically retold in Tamil. I do recall being read Tamil modern short stories from what were then high quality magazines in Tamil - Kalki and Ananda Vikadan, and children's versions of the same in Junior Vikadan, Ambulimama, and the like. The rest came from great storytellers, such as my grandfather, and later, my father, who had the same talent. Ramesh recalls a home delivery subscription service from his boyhood days: a fellow came on a bicycle and delivered a couple of new books, or new issues of Ambulimama or Amar Chitra Katha. Two days later, he picked them up, delivered them to the
boy next door, and gave Ramesh two more.

The Firengi Libraries:

Two other libraries I depended upon as a graduate student of literature were the British council Library and the American Library. I discovered A. C. Bradley, the Shakepearean critic, and watched the tragedies come alive on BBC productions on VHS tapes. The fees were affordable for a college student, and I got to meet like-minded people, watched plays, see displays on various subjects, and meet visiting language experts from England. Today, the British Council Library is a hopping place, in its nice new facility, with open architecture, a multi-media corner, and a creditable, though dated children's collection. Membership can be afforded only by the very comfortably off. They have a regular schedule of children's programs - most of which require registration for a fee.

The American Library was a fortress - long before September 11, 2001. It did not have much for me, and getting in it was such a hassle. Recently, I visited the library in the hope of meeting the librarian, and discussing a news item in the paper - the American Library was looking to expand its services to rural areas. My slightly disabled professor had climb all the stairs like the rest of us, and my American passport (but alas, not the right colored skin!), could not get any
special dispensation to enable me to park my car closer to the entrance, let alone drive in to the facility. Ramah, my friend from Maryland, and her 10-year old son, also starved for good reading, accompanied us. If the library's circulation statistics are good, credit goes to the persistent users, rather than the openness of the library. And, what was the service that the American Library was looking to take to rural areas? Information about the United States and its universities to college students in the rural south. It is the mission of the library, after
all. And, no, it did not have a children's collection.

The Children's Library scene:

My moans of protest about the lack of good library facilities to friends and family brought forth recommendations: A Few Good Books, suggested one. Closed. Book World, suggested Rajani's teacher. It was even featured in the paper as a wonderful library for children. It was just
a room full of books - of the same old Amar Chitra Kathas and like. Hippocampus, is another. [I shall hold off my remarks until I visit the place. I am looking forward to meeting the owner next week and exploring some meaningful libary based activities for children.]

Why we read (or don't):

So, where are children getting their reading? And what are they reading? School libraries is one place. [I cannot speak with authority on this subject as I have visited only one school library. It had an impressive library instruction schedule, a small collection of paperback fiction,
substantial non-fiction]. Smaller, start-up schools depend on donations and hand-me downs to form their collections. A friend's company that funnels monies to government schools to help form school library collections is also looking to start libraries in the slums to let women and children have access to books. Municipal libraries such as the one in my neighborhood opens its door regularly, but does nothing to attract children from nearby homes. Children are mostly in "tuition" after school anyway! They go to teachers' homes or community centers to have additional coaching on the very subject that they was taught in school that morning! They also have quite a few hours of homework to be completed before dinner. The poorer kids are too busy helping their families out by delivering flowers or doing house work. The ones who
recognize the value of recreational reading will take them to bookstores on the weekend.

Another theory I have, is that because we are an oral culture, and have emphasized story telling as a way to pass down lores, legends, and songs, we have not given importance to reading to children. Another traditional belief is that learning is done in school. All reading is done to supplement school work. [Parents appear to facilitate the learning process by taking the children to tuition, and by being there ensuring that TV watching is down to a minimum when the kids should be "cramming" for exams! [We could not meet Ramesh's cousins because their daughter was studying for exams. When we asked what they were doing about it, they replied that they stayed home, provided regular meals, and made sure the children weren't on the TV or computer chat rooms.]]

Our publishing industry has also been emphasizing learning of concepts and vocabulary
by publishing M for Mango type books rather than the story of how a mango might grow from a seed. The need for inexpensive books have also prevented the industry from producing high quality off-set printed books with illustrations and photographs.

Now, mind you, there is some change being effected on the next generation, as is reflected by the proliferation of children's board books, libraries - however small - in start-up schools, and bigger bookstores, with a large selection of imported books.

A Mylapore Icon:

An aside here: Have I even mentioned that my grandfather, on my mother's side, was a book seller? "K. Mahadevan, Bookseller" was the sign above his shop on the street where Vidhya Mandir School, off Royapettah high road, now stands. By the time I was old enough to notice anything, he was retired from his trade, and all we had left were a few shelves of books sitting around my grandmother's house. [Aside to the aside here: these books formed the perfect library for exploring youngsters when we arrived to spend summers with my grandmother. It laid the foundation for my belief, to this day, that homes should be filled with books - of all kinds - so that children may poke around, and serendipitously find a one that entertains, informs and possibly changes their lives! ]

My mother remembers the arrival of boxes of books from England, and that she would
be allowed to read those wonderful library editions, with their glossy dust jackets and shiny pages, provided her hands were clean. She still recalls the smell of new books all the way from England. That she so wanted to run the book store after my grandfather, but was married off
to domesticity, is an old lament, long forgotten.

The Bookstore scene:

Today's bookstores in Chennai are turning the corner, even though their children's sections all leave much to be desired. The newest one, Crossroads, in T. Nagar, (part of a book store chain in Mumbai and Bangalore?) has a coffee and sandwich bar. Their idea of a children's corner is a colorful mat and a couple of plastic chairs. Landmark, the largest bookstore at City Center, the mega mall of Chennai, has no standing room, let alone sitting and reading room. The
children's section has large toys to bounce on rather than a reading space for a child to sit down and flip through the pages of an interesting book. The Oxford Bookstore is a stylishly designed facility with a coffee bar (and dangerous stairs!), a meagre children's collection, and a children's program here and there. (That these stores are staffed by people who know nothing of books is another matter. The chap at the Oxford Bookstore asked me back what a "field guide" was when I asked him for a field guide to Indian trees.) Higginbothoms on Mount Road, the bookstore everyone frequented for all text books, coffee table books, and maps and postcards, has an expanded children's section since my time. It stocks plenty of ladybird series, and inexpensive
paperback editions of American and British authors for young readers. Rajani managed to find a tiny stool and sat down for an hour to read her a colorful series. And in Adayar, in my neighborhood, we have Odessey - a well-stocked, stylish, multi-storied store, with gifts, vcds, and books to empty out an NRI's pocket. (We stood in line at 6:30 a.m (and appeared - like dots! - in the next days Deccan Chronicle) to collect our Harry Potter at this very store.)


Where are the Indian authors for Children?

A recent Hindu article, after the arrival of the final Harry Potter, lamented that children were reading western authors. Where were the Indian authors? Was there nothing for the young reader beyond R.K. Naryan's Swami and Friends? The few that do write are being hidden the
back shelves. The above mentioned book stores do nothing to bring those books and authors to one's attention.

A couple of small publishing houses have cropped up for children's books in the last 5 years. Tulika and Tara publishing have taken everyday topics featuring mortal little girls, that children like Rajani can relate to. These paperback editions feature less text and more pictures, along the lines of our picture books that so capture a child's imagination. Fine arts graduates are finding a calling in book illustrating. One school has taken its students' final projects and published a series of books. Rajani's school librarian would ask me for recommendations for books that feature little girls and boys who look like Rajani. Tara and Tulika are beginning to respond to that plea.
The language is simpler, and sentence structure less complicated. [Many Indian writers have a tendency to write in the passive, and use needlessly bombastic language.] These stories feature everyday happenings of everyday people.

A very happening world of adult writing:

In closing, I will be remiss if I don't mention the vibrant adult writing scene: Indians are prolific writers in English. The book review section in The Hindu lists an impressive bibliography of fiction and non-fiction works. Indian authors at home, and writers among the diaspora are making a mark on the world literary scene: biographies, chick-lit, college campus lit (I'll put in a plug for Mediocre But Arrogant: a story about Love and Life in a Business School, written by Ramesh's classmate in XLRI), history (a favorite among Indians), translations, and much social sciences, fill the shelves of today's book stores.

I hope that the next generation of writers will recognize this need for well-written books that will capture our children's imagination, and make them life-long readers.

Toodle-do till the next post!