Random conversations and convivial moods at the Mathrubhumi International Festival of Letters

Captions: Ajay Bisaria/Saba Naqvi (second from right) author Subhash Chandran/Translator AJ Thomas/Manohar Thomas (extreme right) with poet K Satchidanandan (centre) and actor/author Thampy Antony/Journalist Rahul Jayaram

By Shevlin Sebastian

At the author’s lounge at the Mathrubhumi International Festival of Letters at the Kanakakkunnu Palace at Thiruvananthapuram, the ever-smiling curator Sabin Iqbal is interacting with a host of guests. After a while, he sits down to take a breather. Suddenly, he hears a ping tone. When he clicks on the mail, a smile breaks out on his face.

It is good news. His Polish publisher has just informed him that the release of his novel, ‘The Cliffhangers’ will take place in March. Sabin will be the first contemporary author from Kerala to have his work translated into Polish.

Last year, a few Polish publishers came to attend the festival. They met Sabin. He presented them with their book. They liked it and decided to publish it in their language.

Meeting a career diplomat

At lunch, as authors sat around at several tables and chatted with each other, a man came and sat next to me. He was a tall and lean man. And he used the cutlery in a very delicate way, without making any noise. Perfect manners at the table. After a while, we started talking. He was a retired career diplomat. Ajay Bisaria was the High Commissioner to Pakistan in 2017. In August 2019, the Pakistan government expelled him because of the abrogation of Article 370, which changed the special status of Kashmir.

Ajay worked in the Prime Minister’s Office (PMO), under National Security Advisor Brajesh Mishra during the time of Atal Bihari Vajpayee. According to Wikipedia he attended more than 50 international summits with the Prime Minister as part of his delegation.

Ajay had just written a book called, ‘Anger Management: The Troubled Diplomatic Relationship between India and Pakistan’ (Aleph Publishers).

Sitting next to me was the well-known journalist Saba Naqvi. She had come to speak on her book, ‘Saffron Storm – From Vajpayee to Modi’’. I introduced Saba, whom I met at the festival for the first time, to Ajay.

He said, “Saba, you don’t recognise me. I used to work in the PMO during Vajpayee’s time.”

For a moment, Saba did not recall. Then a light flashed in her eyes and she said, “Oh, of course, of course, I remember you.”

Courage despite threats

Saba Naqvi is perhaps the first Muslim woman journalist to cover the BJP for the past 20 years. The former political editor of Outlook Magazine now writes for a host of newspapers and is a commentator on television. Owing to her forthright reporting, Saba has received a lot of threats and has been subjected to online bullying by right-wing followers. This has taken an emotional and psychological toll.

At the session at the festival, moderated by senior journalist B. Sreejan, Saba had to carefully choose the words she spoke, knowing any slip-up in meaning could cause an army of trolls to attack her. But despite this never-ending pressure, her answers were forthright and bold. And she provided an interesting insight. “You must know that Narendra Modi is having a fun time,” she said. “Posing for selfies, dressing well, standing on scenic beaches, and travelling everywhere. He is a 24/7 politician.”

At the bookstore, a couple of hours after her session, Saba heard the good news that all her books had been sold out.

Waiting for the muse

I went up to Subhash Chandran, one of Kerala’s preeminent writers, and said, “Sir, I have not read any of your works.”

Before Subhash could get offended, I said, “I don’t know how to read Malayalam as I grew up in Kolkata.”

Subhash smiled as I said, “Sir, when you write, do you depend on the unconscious?”

“Yes, absolutely,” said Subhash. “Creative inspiration always comes from the unconscious mind. I wait for it to happen. That is one reason my productivity is low, as compared to others.”

The multiple award-winning author has published around ten books so far.

Subhash said that being the editor of the weekly literary magazine ‘Azhchappathippu’, of the Mathrubhumi newspaper, takes a lot of his time.

He then spoke about P. Rajeev, the state minister for industries, law and coir. Rajeev moderated a discussion of Subhash’s book at the festival. Subhash expressed his admiration for Rajeev’s insightful knowledge of his literary works.

Escape from Libya

AJ Thomas is basking in the success of the well-received book he had translated into English titled, ‘The Greatest Malayalam Stories Ever Told’ (Aleph). But during a conversation, at the Kanakakunnu Palace, he spoke at length about the harried time he experienced in Libya, a few years ago.

At that time, he was teaching English at the Garyounis University (later Benghazi University). Thomas was on leave from the Sahitya Akademi, in the post of Editor, Indian Literature.

At the beginning of the revolution, against the ruler Colonel Muammar Gaddafi, in February 2011, Thomas was evacuated along with his colleagues from Benghazi port by ship to Alexandria. From there, he was flown to Delhi by the Indian Embassy. He resumed the editorship of Indian Literature.

On October 20, 2011, Gaddafi was shot dead. The country descended into chaos. However, an interim unity government was set up in January 2012. At the university’s insistence, Thomas returned on January 4, 2012. Unfortunately, the unity government collapsed in April 2013.

Ansal al Sharia, an extremist Islamist organisation unleashed jihad in the country, followed by ISIS. A few months later, they suddenly targeted foreign passport holders with Christian names. Sensing imminent danger, in mid-December, 2014, Thomas and a colleague, travelled 400 kilometres through backroads and escaped through an airport close to the border with Egypt and flew back to Delhi. Within a week, 33 Egyptian Coptic Christians were beheaded by ISIS. “It was a close shave for us,” he said. Altogether Thomas spent six years in Libya.

Thomas also spoke about a Kerala-based friend, and former colleague from his Sahitya Akademi days in Delhi, whose health had broken down. “I am going to meet him soon,” he said. “It will be very sad to see him like this. I have spent a lot of good moments with him.”

Thomas falls silent as he realises that no one can stop the passage of time and the damaging effect it can have on one’s health and mental equilibrium.

A US-based Malayali author

Manohar Thomas wears an eye-catching yellow shirt. He is a past president of the Literary Association of North America. This is an organisation that comprises writers of Malayali origin who have migrated to North America. Their aim is to promote Malayalam literature on a global scale. He is the founder of ‘Sargavedy’, an organisation for Malayalam language and literature in New York.

“The problem for us is that the second generation of Malayalis in America do not know how to read in Malayalam,” he says. “It is a big loss for our culture. But that is the price you pay for immigration.”

Manohar is a published author. But to earn a living, he sells wine in New York. To guarantee that he buys the best French, Australian, and Italian wines he has to taste it. To ensure that his tongue remains sensitive, he has had to eschew Indian food with its wide variety of spices. So, Manohar has bland food all the time. That’s the price he has to pay to have a successful business.

Wrong identification

Sipping a cup of tea was Rahul Jayaram, wearing a colourful Nepali Topi. Rahul is a teacher, freelance journalist and bibliophile. He held a copy of ‘City on Fire: A boyhood in Aligarh’. I only saw the book in Rahul’s hand, rushed towards him, shook his hand, as I kept staring at the cover, and said, “I have not read the book yet, but I read the reviews. They are all great. Congratulations.”

Rahul smiled and said, in a formal manner, “I am not Zeyad Masroor Khan. I am the moderator for the discussion. Zeyad will come soon.”

“Oh, oh,” I said, finally looking up at Rahul.

I had to burst out laughing. Rahul is a friend.

“That’s so funny,” I said.

It was Rahul’s turn to laugh.

Some pics from the Mathrubhumi international literary festival

 Pic 1: Chacko Simon is a lawyer based in Kottayam. He told me that he had a library of 800 books, out of which 50 are author-inscribed. I was glad to sign my book for him

Pic 2: Standing beneath my own head. Photo by Ratheesh Sundaram Pic 3: With authors Kunal Purohit and Shahina K Rafeeq

Many thanks to Mathrubhumi newspaper for this article

 

What happens after we die

Photos: Author Minakshi Dewan; the Chinvat Bridge

Author Minakshi Dewan’s book ‘The Final Farewell — Understanding the Last Rites and Rituals of India’s Major Faiths’ provides meaning and understanding.

By Shevlin Sebastian

Writer Minakshi Dewan was very close to her father, Vijay Dewan, an entrepreneur. He lived in Ambala Cantonment, in Haryana. But in 2019, because of liver sclerosis, Vijay passed away. His death came as a shock to Minakshi.

She lit the funeral pyre and immersed her father’s ashes in the Ganges at Haridwar. During this time, she conversed with the purohits and became fascinated by the rituals at the end of life. That’s when she got the idea of writing a book.

She began her research by visiting shamshans and kabristans in Delhi. Minakshi also went to the Harishchandra and Manikarnika ghats at Varanasi. She read articles, newspaper clips, books and watched films. She interviewed journalists, activists, funeral directors, academicians, and filmmakers, among many others.

The recently published book is called ‘The Final Farewell: Understanding the last rites and rituals of India’s Major Faiths’. Minakshi has gone deep into the last rites in Hinduism, Islam, Christianity, Zoroastrianism and Sikhism.

It is a valuable book because it gives followers of each religion an insight into the meanings behind their rituals, which they tend to do mechanically.

One also gets an idea of the rituals of other religions. The book creates empathy and understanding in the reader for people of other religions, especially at a time of grave polarisation all over the world.

So, for example, the washing of a Muslim man begins on the right side. The first wash is usually with plain water, the second with water and soap, and the final one is usually with water and camphor. The Islamic tradition is to wrap the corpse with three unstitched cloth pieces: an izar (wraparound), a qamis (shift) and a lifafa, which covers the entire body from head to feet.

Minakshi has also focused on Hindu and Sikh women performing the last rites. She spoke to Dr Manisha Shete, a Hindu priest, practising for the past fifteen years. Manisha said, “I pursued this work because of my interest in ancient scriptures. I am the first in my family to become a priest.” Manisha is associated with the Pune-based Jnana Prabodhini, an organisation which trains men and women across castes to perform rituals.

Minakshi has also described the state of cremation and burial spaces, the gender and caste discrimination in last rites, and professional mourners like rudaalis. An interesting chapter is about Varanasi. “Varanasi celebrates death,” writes Minakshi.

Each religion has its own beliefs about what happens after death. In Zoroastrianism, for example, the Parsis believe humans comprise gaetha (physical) and mainyu (spiritual). Humans have an immortal urvan (soul). The soul remains near the body for three days and nights before departing. On the fourth day, the sun's rays draw up the soul for judgement. It has to cross the Chinvat Bridge. The bridge becomes wider or narrower, depending on the life the person led.

‘The Final Farewell’ is a most remarkable and valuable addition to spiritual literature.

(Published in The Sunday Magazine, New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

Enlarging a dream fragment

By Shevlin Sebastian

When I awoke on a recent morning, I saw an image of me standing on a sidewalk and staring at a movie hall on the opposite side.

I expanded on the image later in the day.

This was what I wrote:

I am standing on a pavement. Opposite me, there is a huge billboard which is advertising a film. The movie hall is behind it. I stare at the board. People are walking past, left to right, right to left. Cars are also going past.

A man walks down the street. He wears a white suit and white shoes. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. He stops in front of me.

I say, “Who are you?” 

He turns to look at me. Slight stubble on his upper lip. 

“I am the hero of this film,” he says, pointing at the billboard. 

“And your name?” I ask. 

“Chris Jones,” he replies. 

“You came to see the audience's reaction?” I say. 

“Exactly,” he says. “Do you want to see it?”

“Sure, why not, if you are buying the ticket?” I say. 

Chris grins and says, “Sure, of course.” 

We cross the street. He buys the tickets at the counter. We enter the foyer and climb the steps to the first floor. 

As we stand outside the door of the hall, I say, “Is there time for a chat?” 

Chris looks at his watch. Then he nods and says, “About two minutes.” 

I ask about his life.

Chris is originally from Burbank, California. His father was a chef, his mother a teacher. They did not discourage him when he said he wanted to be an actor. 

“Just see that you have a talent for acting,” his father Eddie said. 

“And do you?” I say. 

Chris smiles. 

“Not major league,” he says. “So far, it’s second tier.” 

“Very honest,” I say, as I pat his arm in appreciation and add, “Why have you come into my dream?”

Chris narrows his eyes and says, “I didn’t know I am in a dream.”

“Yes, you are,” I say. “Mine.” 

Chris stares at me.

“I don’t know why I have come,” he says.  

“Maybe you represent an archetype,” I say. 

“What does that mean?” he says. 

“Never mind,” I say. “Let’s enjoy the movie.” 

When Chris sits, his knees almost hit the head of the person sitting in front of him. ‘Wow, long legs,’ I think. 

We watch silently. There is not much of a crowd. Or a crowd reaction. People remain quiet throughout. No claps or standing ovations. Occasionally, Chris looks around. Then he rubs his hand through his hair in slow motion. I know he is not feeling good. I see him look once or twice at the ceiling. 

When the movie gets over, we walk out silently. 

On the road, he turns to look at me and said, “So what do you think?”

I know I have to be diplomatic.

“It’s okay,” I said. 

He knows I have been polite. 

“Let’s have something,” he said.

We walk into a cafe.

He orders a café au lait and cookies. I do the same. 

We look at each other. 

“I am sorry,” I said. 

“Yeah, the film is not doing well,” he said. “They will yank it after the last show on Thursday.” 

I nod. 

“Hits and misses,” he said. “That’s what life is all about. You may have a hit by meeting the right woman who becomes your wife, but your film can be a flop.”

We laugh spontaneously. 

“Well said,” I reply. 

“Thank you,” he said, as he takes a sip of his coffee. I also sip from my cup. 

I reach out and shake his hand. 

“Look, it’s time for me to get up,” I said. “I have to bring this dream to an end. Morning chores await me. Buying milk, reading the newspaper, making breakfast.” 

He nods, “Okay, it was nice to have met you.” 

We shake hands.

I open my eyes and get out of bed.

Interview/Prahlad Kakar: "Story-telling is at the heart of all communication"

Was it your wife Mitali who urged you to write this memoir?

Yes, Mitali did so. Since I was always recounting stories about my career, she asked me to write it all down in a book. Initially, I was pretending to be busy or just lazy. Then, to make it easy, I dictated my thoughts into a dictaphone. When I saw the transcript, it was repetitive, and flabby. The thought process has to be clear. The writing did not capture my voice. So I decided to write it. Since I cannot type, I wrote by hand. My grammar and spelling were atrocious. It took me two years. [Co-Author] Rupangi [Sharma] sat with me and oversaw the whole thing.

After 40 years in advertising, what is the most striking change you have noticed?

The big change is that we have become digitalised. From films, we went to digital and from there to social media. Today, social media is the playing field of young people. From 18 to 30 or 25 to 40, they are all on social media. Young people are consuming social media at a tremendous rate.

But is there a problem with retention?

Yes, absolutely. Their attention levels are going down. Because of this, the advertisements have to be better and better. Unfortunately, the ads are getting worse and worse. Young ad film-makers today have no story-telling skills. They don’t fantasise or daydream any more. If you don’t read books, you lose the capacity to imagine. So, they are rehashing old ideas. The most important point they should note is that story-telling is at the heart of all communication.

You have interacted with many celebrities like Amitabh Bachchan, Shah Rukh Khan and Sachin Tendulkar. What do they have in common?

They are all focused. They have a drive to compete, but against themselves. When Sachin gets out in a particular way, he goes home, studies the videos, corrects the mistake, and practises endlessly. You can never get him out the same way again. They have great personalities. All of them are humble, because they suffered from failures before they achieved success. Success makes you arrogant. Failure teaches you humility. Life is full of ups and downs. But they never gave up. They have been resilient and determined.

You have a passion for scuba diving. What are its pleasures?

The world on the seabed has been created by God. It is perfect and pristine. But now the excessive plastic in the oceans is doing grave damage. But there are areas which exist in the way God had designed it. When you see such beauty, you have a meditative and religious feeling. The earth was probably as beautiful as the ocean. But then man came and destroyed everything. Now there is climate change and global warming. We are ignoring it. One day, nature will cause a big catastrophe to happen that will wipe out most of the people.

You have been a ladies’ man. But now you have been married for 40 years. What are the tips for a successful marriage?

You should give each other space. And the spouse should have the opportunity to grow to her full potential. You should not curb or monitor your spouse. A wife should be successful in her own right. A good marriage is not competitive. Don’t take her for granted. You must court your wife like you used to before your marriage. Make tea and take it to the bed for her. Of course, she will say, “What’s wrong with you?” Then you reply, “Just chooma.”

Published in The Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi

A rambunctious ride

After four decades in advertising, Prahlad Kakar has a lot to tell in this absorbing autobiography

By Shevlin Sebastian

Advertising legend Prahlad Kakar’s autobiography, ‘Adman Madman’, co-written with editor Rupangi Sharma, begins with a laugh-out loud anecdote.

He is admitted into a kindergarten school called Kumkum on Lodhi Road, New Delhi. Prahlad became friends with Naveen, a fair and good looking boy.

The school owner’s daughter, Kumkum had eyes for Naveen.

Prahlad and Naveen used to sneak into a hidey-hole in the tall hedges. One day Kumkum discovered it. She asked to be a member. They resisted. She said she would inform her mother. So, the boys relented.

One day, Kumkum said, “If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine.” Naveen lowered his shorts and underwear. As Prahlad writes, ‘She stared at his pinkish nunu for some time.’ Then Prahlad was forced to show his.

Sometime later, the boys were summoned to the principal’s office. They saw Kumkum stamping her feet and saying, “I want a nalki.”

“What nalki, baby?” said the principal.

“A nalki like Naveen’s and Prahlad’s,” she said.

“How do you know they have a nalki?” “They showed me. Now I also want.” So, no surprises, both the boys were expelled from the school.

This is Prahlad’s conclusion to the story: ‘Nobody told her that when she grew up, she could have her own collection of nalkis’.

And the reader is off and running as he reads one of the most absorbing autobiographies in recent times. It is a linear story: from school (St Thomas, Dehradun, and Sainik School, Karnal) to college (Ferguson’s College, Pune) to an advertising career which began in 1971.

Prahlad joined Advertising and Sales Promotion Company and worked under acclaimed film director Shyam Benegal. He also assisted in Benegal’s landmark films, Ankur’, ‘Manthan’ and ‘Bhumika’.

This is a must-read for anybody in the advertising industry. You can get an idea of what happened behind the scenes for those iconic Pepsi ads, like ‘Yeh Dil Maange More’, and ‘Nothing Official about it’, which starred Sachin Tendulkar, Shah Rukh, Amitabh Bachchan and the others. There is a QR code on the back flap, which if you scan, you can see most of Prahlad’s creative work.

You can read the story of how Prahlad’s colleague, Monia Sehgal, at Genesis Film Production, rooted to give an unknown Aishwarya Rai a break. Prahlad was initially not too impressed. But he has been a most impressive mentor with many going on to have stellar careers in the media.

Prakash also talks about his romantic liaisons, his love for scuba diving, and the bakra he made of Cyrus Broacha during a shoot. This adman is indeed a madman.

Published in The Sunday Magazine of the New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

 

Leading the charge

Photos: (from left) Sreeram KV, Sanid Asif Ali and Tony Davis; Gustoso the comic

Three young comic enthusiasts are spearheading a comics culture in Kerala

By Shevlin Sebastian

One morning, a few years ago, Sanid Asif Ali was driving to work in the suburb of Kakkanad, near Kochi. As the IT professional went past several high-rise buildings, he came across the Brahmapuram waste dumping site. Suddenly, he wondered, ‘What if a few animals were living there?’

That night, he went home and did a story about a cat named Beardo. He came across an empty packet of Italian-make Gustoso! biscuits at a garbage dump. Beardo showed it to his friends, a dog, Skinny, and a crow. The last owner of the cat had fed one to him before he died. It was one of the tastiest biscuits Beardo had eaten. So the trio went in search of these biscuits at the home of human beings in a nearby building.

The four-chapter comic discussed hunger, cruelty to animals, abandonment and the excessive garbage produced by human beings. It was uploaded on the tinkle.in website, in June 2020.

Sanid used to draw doodles from his childhood. He fell in love with comics when he came across his cousin Baijukka’s collection of Tintin comics. At eight, he started drawing comic strips. He continued throughout his teenage years.

When he grew up, Sanid began putting up single panel cartoons on Facebook. But a desire lurked in him to do a long-form comic. “I achieved it with ‘Gustoso!’” he says, with a smile. “It was a turning point in my life.” Some of his other books include ‘Krishnavanam’, ‘Hope on’ and ‘Cat needs a friend’.

Sanid met the wider comic community when he took part in the Indie Comix Fest (ICF) at Kochi in 2018. It was at this fest that Sanid met Sreeram KV. Sreeram was a writer who was interested in comics.

Through an Instagram post, Sanid also came to know that a filmmaker named Tony Davis ran a comics library at Kochi. So Sanid went to see the library.

There were Indian and international comics like Manga (from Japan), Archies, Mandrake, Asterix, Phantom, and old Malayalam comics. Sanid became a regular borrower. Sreeram also used to borrow comics from the library.

The three became friends. Tony and Sreeram collaborated to bring out an eight-part comic documentary, ‘Katha Vara Kathakal’, about the evolution of comics in Malayalam, from the 1970s to the present. It was released on YouTube in September, 2020.

The film focused on Kannadi Vishwanathan, the creator of ‘CID Moosa’ comics, Jacob Varghese, publisher of ‘Regal comics’, R Gopalakrishnan, former editor of children’s magazine, ‘Poompatta’, Abdul Hameed, creator of ‘Inspector Prakash comics’, and George Mathen, graphic novelist, ‘HalaHala’ series, among many others.

In 2019, the Comic Collective had conducted the ICF. But the organisers were involved not only in comics but movies too.

Tony told Sreeram and Sanid that they should have a dedicated community only for comics. “Comic creators and enthusiasts should join forces together,” says Tony. So, the trio organised the ICF in December, 2022. This became a success.

A year later, on December 17, 2023, the fourth edition took place.

Asked about the themes explored in the comics, Sanid says, “There are social and mythological themes. The artists spoke about their self-doubt and anxieties, the pains of childhood and an uncertain future, because of climate change. An 11-year-old boy brought along a superhero comic.” A Mumbai-based group called Urban Collective explored the concept of space in the financial capital.

Many had brought self-published works. A few comics were brought out by small publishers like Studio Niyet, Bakarmax, Kokaachi, and Blaft.

For the illustrators, one drawback was the high cost of printing. Big publishers have bulk print runs, which reduces the cost per unit. “However, it is difficult to get a mainstream publisher,” says Sreeram.

But a major publisher, HarperCollins, brought out a graphic novel about addiction called ‘Pig Flip’ by Malayali author Joshy Benedict in December, 2023. When it was originally published in Malayalam, it had received a lot of attention.

For most comic book authors, they have to self-publish. “Hence the prices of the books are high,” says Sreeram.

One artist, Kalyani B, whose book, ‘Matinee’, cost Rs 500 to print, was compelled to sell it at Rs 850. Still there were good sales.

It is about five women in a hostel in Thiruvananthapuram in the 1990s. They went to watch an adult Malayalam movie called ‘Rathinirvedam’ (Adolescent Desire). This was based on her mother’s experiences. Kalyani adapted it into a comic book.

On the morning of the fest, the organisers honoured veteran artist M Mohandas by presenting him with a memento. They also made a caricature of him surrounded by well-known characters like Ramu, Shyamu, Kapish, Mayavi, and Luttappi. He had drawn them mostly for Amar Chitra Katha comics. “Mohandas Sir had drawn these characters for over 50 years,” says Sreeram.

As for the composition of the crowd who attended, Tony says, they were mostly young people. But this year, for the first time, there was an older section who came in, including people from the film industry. Ganesh Raj, who directed the hit film ‘Anandam’ (2016) was one of them. Another was playback singer Sachin Warrier.

Asked whether there is a growing comic culture in Kochi, Tony agrees. Many books are being published, including those for children. There is readership for each age group.

Local participation is also improving, he said. Out of 46 illustrators, who took part in the recent fest, more than half were from Kerala. The rest came from Bengaluru, Chennai, Mumbai and Delhi. “To expand the community, we encourage beginners a lot,” he says. “So, there is no screening. If you have made a comic, you can take part.”

As to the finances to conduct the fest, the trio depended on the Rs 700 registration fee they charged. They also got a sponsor, Lilo Rosh, a company which makes bags and sketchbooks for artists. Because it is volunteer-driven, they could keep the expenses low. “We are not making a profit,” says Sreeram. “Everybody is in this together. We want everybody to own the fest.”

(Published in the Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India)

The Hungry Tides

Captions: George Vadakkeparambil, 73, has acted in 40 dramas. He performed till the age of 65. He stopped because of poor health

From her childhood Alphonsa was interested in Chavittu Natakam. When her family resisted her desire to be an artist, she tried to commit suicide. Moly Kannamali, a famous Chavittu Natakam artist and film star became Alphonsa’s mentor. Today, Alphonsa has acted in many dramas. The widowed Alphonsa lives in her hut all alone. Her children have grown up, got married and moved away

Antony, a daily wage labourer, plays Raja Antony. Antony was 16 when he performed for the first time. Today, he is 76. Because he has played the role of a king many times, he is now called Raja Antony

Silosh, 35, with his family. He learned Chavittu Natakam from his uncle. He has performed more than 50 times. During high tide, at nights, Silosh and his family sit awake on the cot till the water recedes 

T.J. Xavier and his wife. In 2018, flood waters entered his house and he lost his costumes and props 

Photographer KR Sunil 

Documentary photographer KR Sunil’s exhibition focuses on the Chavittu Natakam artists who are battling poverty and climate change

By Shevlin Sebastian

In December 2015, documentary photographer KR Sunil went to the island of Gothuruth, off the coast of Kochi, to watch the annual Chavittu Natakam festival.

A brief history about the art form: In response to the Kathakali dance form, the Christian community came up with Chavittu Natakam in the 16th century. Unlike in Kathakali, the dancers sing and speak aloud and stamp their feet on the stage. This is accompanied by the beating of drums.

It developed in the coastal areas, like Kochi, Alleppey and Kodungallur. The themes are from the lives of Christian saints, Biblical themes, and the history of Christianity. The costumes have a Portuguese influence and include brocade dresses, headgear and crowns.

In the Malayalam film, 'Kutty Srank’ (2009), Mammootty played a Chavittu Natakam artist.

Sunil ended up watching the shows by different groups for four days. He went backstage and became friendly with Somanath, the make-up artist. An idea grew in Sunil’s mind to do portraits of these artists.

During the performance on the fourth day, Somanath asked Sunil not to come on the last day. Because the artists who came from the coastal region of Chellanam were dark-skinned. So Somanath would have to work hard to make them fair. Hence he would not be available to chat with Sunil.

Nevertheless Sunil went. He immediately realised they were poor people, as compared to the mainly middle class people who had performed in the previous days. They were Dalit Christians. Many of them worked as fishermen, house painters, and labourers. “But it was clear to me, after talking with them, they had a passion for the art form,” says Sunil. He decided to take portraits of them.

But when Sunil went to their houses, he got a shock. Many of them lived in dilapidated hovels. In some houses, blue plastic sheets comprised the wall or covered the large hole in the roofs. The paint was peeling off.

He found the contrast unbelievable. On stage, they played kings like Raja Antony, and prime minister Mantri Pappachen, and performed against the backdrop of castles. “But in their daily lives, they lived in abject poverty,” says Sunil. “But that did not stop them from spending money for costumes and travel.”

Sunil took the photos over four years. He noticed that in the winter months of November to January, water from high tides inundated their houses.

Many times, when he went in the morning, he noticed that everybody was sleeping. The artists would inform Sunil that the water had entered the house in the night. Since many of them slept on the floor, they sat up on the wooden cot. They went to sleep only when the waters receded at 6 a.m. The children missed school. One of them, Thankachan, left his house, and moved on to higher ground.

“This is the distinct impact of climate change,” says Sunil. “The waters began to rise after the 2004 tsunami which hit the coast of Kerala.” Sunil made them wear their Chavittu Natakam costumes and asked them to pose in the flood waters.

There are about one hundred artists. They are in the age range of the fifties, sixties and seventies. “There are no new artists, because there is no income from this art form,” says Sunil. ““There is no state or corporate support. Because they are Dalits, they have no influence. So, once these generations pass away, the art form will die.”

However, there is Silosh, who is 35 years old, who is interested and doing well.

Sunil's work had been shown at the recent ‘Contextual Cosmology’ exhibition held at the College of Fine Arts, Thiruvananthapuram. The curators were Bose Krishnamachari, Abushka Rajendra, Premjish Achari and Sujith SN. The exhibition concluded on December 31.

In his earlier projects, Sunil has focused on the marginalised. He did a series on dhow workers who were going through hard times. He did one on the Muslim community of Ponnani, and the mixed communities of Mattancherry. Sunil also said that those who live off the sea and by the side of it tend to be more open and honest. “That is the effect of living next to Nature,” he says.

(Published in The Sunday Magazine, New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

Soul Talk

Captions: a warring couple; Russian leader Joseph Stalin with his wife Nadezhda Alliluyeva; Chairman Mao Zedong

By Shevlin Sebastian

Some people get away with murder. The police are not able to solve the case. The murderer lives to a ripe old age and passes in his sleep.

When the victim, a soul in the next world, probably, a man, realises the murderer’s soul is arriving, what is his reaction? Will he appeal to God for justice?

Would he say, “This man must be punished. How about a thousand years in hell for snuffing out my life prematurely and against your will?”

What will God reply?

What about couples who have gone through a nasty divorce? Will the souls meet in the next life? If yes, will they glide past and ignore each other? Or will they kiss and make up? Or will they have a nasty argument once again?

What about the children of these couples? How will they react when they see their parents? Will they all hug and kiss each other and make up and be a happy family once again?

What about relatives and siblings who have fought with each other mostly over money and property? And employees who did not get along with their bosses? Would they reveal their suppressed anger at their superiors when they meet them?

What about the despot who has ordered a war? Thousands of young soldiers have died. The leader moves with a several-layer security detail. It is impossible for their relatives to approach him. But can the soldiers approach him when he dies and goes off to the other world?

Surely, on that side, he no longer has a security detail. Can they remonstrate with him? Maybe even give a slap or punch him in the face.

What happened when Adolph Hitler, Joseph Stalin and Mao Zedong went to the other side?

Would the millions of people the trio had killed through war, concentration camps, executions, and in prison have accosted them?

Could God have set up a Truth and Reconciliation Commission?

What about Stalin’s wife, Nadezhda Alliluyeva? Will she beat him up in anger? During a dinner party at the Kremlin in November 1932, she had an argument with him. Nadezhda was distressed to hear Stalin had been having affairs. She left the party early and went home. The next morning, November 9, Nadezhda killed herself using a Mauser pistol. The mother of two was only 31.

There are so many people who get away with so many misdemeanours. And nothing seems to happen to the perpetrators. Only the victims and their families suffer for the rest of their lives. You can see world leaders smiling happily at the cameras. Many of them have blood on their hands, and they also have billions in their bank accounts.

Till someone shot him dead like a dog, Muammar Gaddafi of Libya lived a life of luxury and untrammelled power. He jailed people at his whim and fancy and destroyed so many families. He was one of the rare leaders who faced retribution while he was alive. Another leader who faced retribution while he was alive was Romanian leader Nicolae Ceausescu (1918-1989) who faced a firing squad and died.

China’s Mao Zedong, responsible for between 40 and 80 million deaths, through prison labour, starvation, and mass executions, died in his bed on September 9, 1976 at the age of 82.

Can these millions of souls approach the soul of Chairman Mao and ask him to give an explanation? Will he suffer in the next world? Or will he escape retribution once again?

Scientists say there is no life after death. They say we merge into the mud and get wiped out. But close to his death, my father recounted he had seen his parents and a brother-in-law who had died in a motorbike accident at Kolkata when he was 24 years old.

Shahul, the nurse who looked after my father, said that he had been at the bedside of over 30 end-of-life patients. All of them reported seeing their relatives and ancestors. When death approaches, the souls arrive to provide reassurance regarding the journey to the other world.

A thought arises: will we carry our resentments, anger, hatred, and frustration to the next world?

Who can provide the answers to these questions?

Probably nobody.

Following a dream

By Shevlin Sebastian

The other day I met a young man from Kannur in north Kerala who aspires to be a scriptwriter in Mollywood. He told me a story about doing a movie through the eyes of a five-year-old child. I was not sure whether it was lively. “I am not a film person,” I said. “But I think you need a conflict to make it interesting.”

He told me he wanted to be a scriptwriter from the time he was in Class 8. I am not sure whether he has done a scriptwriting course to learn about the techniques. I fear he may not have the talent. Who can tell whether you have talent? When you are young, your enthusiasm and energy can carry you through. But once youth passes, you can only survive if you have talent.

And do you have a talent that is popular? Can what you create entrance many people? Not everybody is given this gift. Oscar-winning musician AR Rahman has this gift, and so did the late singer Lata Mangeshkar. AR Rahman’s sister Raihanah said, “There are many music directors who are geniuses. But nobody knows them.”

Because they have a talent that is esoteric. Only a few people can appreciate their work. Hence, they cannot earn enough to live off their work. Their talent becomes a hobby. They need to work elsewhere to earn a living. Adds Raihanah: “Mass appeal is a divine gift.”

This young scriptwriter will spend a few years trying to achieve his dream. If he succeeds, it will be a delightful story. A man who followed his dream and achieved it. But if he has no takers for his scripts, provided he has the energy and stamina to write them, he would have lost a few years. Can he have a lucky change of direction? Find a profession for which he has a knack? Who knows?

It’s all up in the air.

We hear stories about people who made it. And we celebrate them. Dharmendra and Dev Anand came from Ludhiana and Gurdaspur respectively, to try their luck in Bollywood. Both succeeded beyond their imagination. But what we also know is that thousands of other hopefuls had come and returned with unfulfilled dreams. For decades, they felt bitter, angry and frustrated.

A friend said that the only unerring guide to make right decisions is your intuition or your gut instinct. It will lead you down the right path.

To get in touch with your intuition, he said, one should go inside. Silencing the mind, listening to your breath, and meditation will help.

An immense power lives within. He said we need to consult it and move forward under its guidance.

Is this the right way?

Maybe it is.

But nobody can say for certain.

The proverb may be right:

Many are called, but few are chosen.