Geneva Diaries #6

The Black Pearl, Jack Sparrow, The Case For Polanski, Yet another collage pour moi et pour toi

9/28/09

Dear Roger,

I saw a fabulous movie this weekend which immediately lifted my spirits, Good Morning England a “must see”! Its about a band of rogue DJ’s broadcasting their music which was scandalous and unacceptable to the establishment of the day from a pirate ship stationed in the middle of the North Sea. I absolutely loved the movie, loved the story and loved the music!. A wonderful journey that captured the fever and excitement of the 60’s, the ideas, the music and aptly put together on this 40th anniversary of Woodstock (which I have been waiting to hear more about from someone who I am sure was in the midst of all the action, but instead I ended up browsing through a coffee table book on Woodstock’s 40th at Payot this weekend). See below Good Morning England:

Somehow pirates and pirate ships have always excited me, as you remember from my fervent support of the Swedish pirates and our chat about cyberspace and piracy. And then of course there is my very own pirate story, adapted from Pirates of the Caribbean. I was captain Jack Sparrow and when it was possible and exciting enough, Elizabeth Swan. The problem occurred of course when they kissed…who was I? But her spirited response immediately put me into her shoes. Our black jeep Cherokee was the black pearl of course, and the crew included two half toothed brats seat belted in the back as we tore down the pirate lanes on 280 and 101! It was only when you got near Palo Alto that we all had to duck/ submerge as the police cars emerged and appeared to chase this motley crew (a California housewife, two brats and later a dog!) down the highway. 

Not to be outdone or forgotten in my current story, the pirate theme continues…last week  i found myself in a car without my handbag rushing to get the kids in time for tennis just across the border in France, I drove without an ID, without papers, with out cash or a license across the border praying to be spared for this very last time. As I passed the mustard fields surrounded by spectacular peaks on the Route de Thonon (my soul certainly feels good everytime I drink that water having seen its origins), I was convinced that the froggies were jumping up and down in a frenzy (I was told by the frog prince himself that The Frog always watches),   saying, “shall we nab her, shall we nab her not!” I guess Not!

Route de Thonon: 

https://images.app.goo.gl/kkBun79VKkDw4WS89

https://images.app.goo.gl/TTqiSoQjHxyM4NaT7

Then of course back home in Geneva, i have the radio blaring at 6am with Gaddafi’s indignant message for the nth time after the supposed affront by the Swiss authorities on his son, “this is a mafia country, they are all mafia!” Well guess who jumps up all excited, moi of course, and the creative juices start to flow again…

A mafia country, a pirate ship…could I really be on a large hidden pirate ship! Could this be the Pearl? Incredible, I might be home! Suddenly, everyone around me starts looking the part, the postman is certainly One-eyed Jack, and then there is Blue Eyed Bob behind the meat counter at CO-OP who so deftly uses his knife as his golden earrings glisten and swing, the bankers with their eye patches and attorneys with tall tales all neatly tucked into their neatly tailored European suits and of course the guard at the border post, a female that winks every time I pass (in this bizarre upside down universe as many girls seem to wink at me as boys do!), could my world be more exciting!

Blue Eyed Bob – See below Alpine Blue Eyes reflecting the glacier as they hold me in deep freeze asking “Do you see the glaciers melting…next time you visit Wonderland Alice, I may not be there”.

Alpine Blue/Glacier Green-Photo by Purnima Viswanathan

Good night.

Purnima

Btw: I did see the movie Coraline and now see whom you were alluding to when you talked about “the hair with a purple glow”, and insisted I watch the movie. A story about a girl with an ATTITUDE that is somehow permanently fixed at twelve with a particularly “long nose” unlike most cartoon characters, forever looking for that tunnel/wormhole to an alternate universe and driven to mischief by abject boredom. Dear Roger,  I wish to inform you, that I HAVE changed my hair color, it is no longer so black that it looks almost purple! 


On Sep 30, 2009, Roger STEVENSON wrote:

Dear Purnima,

Back in Bucharest after two days of no internet, castle hoping, fending off pickpockets and marveling at the ubiquitous poverty.

I loved your last email about possibly being in a pirate haven – truly wonderful.  I’m not quite sure what to think of la Suisse after the Polanski arrest.

I have seen previews of the film about Radio Caroline and really like the actor who plays the lead.  I was in Denmark when it was broadcasting and used to listen to it.  The Danish authorities were going bananas over it too and tried unsuccessfully to silence it.  At the time, it was the only radio station that played good music.  I must go see it.

And can’t wait to see your new hair color.  I also have a wonderful passage to share about moving between different states of realty. I read it today on the train on the way back to Bucharest. It’s from Murakami’s After Dark.

Lots to share. Talk to you soon and see you on the third.

Bisous,

Roger


On Tue, Oct 6, 2009 , Roger Stevenson wrote:

Dear Purnima,

It was a lovely evening last Saturday.  I’m really sorry we couldn’t have stayed for dinner.  But you’re right, I find the cocktail party setting both invigorating and frustrating.  It’s always fun to meet other people, and I thought your brother was marvelous.  I can truly understand why he plays such an important role in your life.  On the down side, it’s frustrating making small talk with strangers and not being able to have a one-on-one meeting of minds.

You were simply stunning !  I love your hair now and you always wear such well-chosen and stylish outfits. 

We’re off again for the weekend – another BD present from A’s daughter – to check out the new Magritte museum in Brussels and to catch a Keith Jarrett concert.  Let’s try and at least have coffee sometime next week.  I’ve been thinking a lot about the 70’s and the liberating influence of music and the hippy movement during those times.

A bientôt,

Roger


From: Roger Stevenson 
Date: Mon, Mar 8, 2010
Subject: Nightmare
To: PURNIMA

Dear Purnima,

What a nightmarish weekend !  Not only do you have to share your dream apartment with an ogre from the slimy antebellum marches, but he spends his Saturday arguing with you about your sanity.  How disgusting !  I hope your Sunday was a bit less hellish.  I’m glad you felt you could share your rage with me. How are you by tonight ?

I’m not at all surprised by the reaction, or lack of it,  of the Swiss bystanders during your encounter with the brute in Manor the other day.  I’ve had my own experience with their indifference to others’ problems.  All they seem to be interested in is going their way so as not to be bothered.

We tried to go see the new Polanski film last night, but got to the theatre a bit too late and all the tickets had been sold.  It’s supposed to be an excellent film in a very Hitchcockian mood, but I also think that a lot of folks are going to see the film because they are incensed at the American treatment of Polanski.  We did manage to catch another film at the Human Rights Film Festival, however.  L’Armée du crime about the Communist underground movement in Paris during the German occupation of France in WW II.  Interesting enough, some of the most ardent folks who hunted down the Jews and shipped them off to the ovens were the French themselves, and especially the French administration and police force at the time.  And then there were the collaborators and the informers from among the general population.  Not a very pretty picture, and the French have been very slow in coming to terms with their actions and attitudes from that period of history.  An interesting part of the film, and one that is closely related to your own experience in Geneva, is that many of the members of the Communist Party who were actively involved in sabotage against the Germans were immigrants from Eastern Europe.  The official government propaganda against them took the tack of fighting against those filthy foreign immigrant terrorists who were making life so difficult for our German occupiers and friends.  The hypocrisy of it all makes me feel like throwing up !

It’s nearly full-circle: A’s parents have decided that they don’t want to stay in Spain for another year and that they will return to California (that’s where they met in the first place) this summer – a big decision, but we are already planning on spending Xmas in Southern California with, of course, some time in San Francisco with my son.  But I’ll miss not visiting Valencia.  I really liked the place.

Do take care of yourself !

Roger


10/7/09

Now Your Day: a note filled with Magritte, Green Apples, and Yet another American in Paris!

Dear Roger,

Thinking of you on this special day and wishing you the very best for this day and the year through.

So, you are off once again to see an exhibit in Brussels of “our” favorite artist, I am turning apple green with envy. How can you see Magritte without me, you have to take me along! Imagine me seated swinging my legs on the tip of your spectacles. I must hear all about it.

Talking about Magritte and his green apples, I just returned to my french lessons after a break of a couple of days (bunking class to be with my brother), and guess what, I was completely “out of it”, could not follow a sentence without struggling. As usual inspired by Magritte and his passion for floating bowler hats and green apples, I was imagining my head as an enlarged green apple seated on the chair staring blankly in class(ironically green suits me best- another long tale with a capital S for surreal) with a giant pip stuck in the middle of my head occupying most of my brain and blocking me from thinking and and speaking! Whatever I said sounded ridiculous…help!! I now plan to grab people on the road here in Veille Ville and just say something to start a conversation in french, what do u think? need some ideas.

See below Magritte’s Green Apple:

Rene Magritte – The Son of Man – Photo by Purnima Viswanathan

Thank you for your lovely compliments on my dress, you are always so nice (such a contrast from the ogre at home) you certainly make my day. I understand what you mean about not getting a chance to spend more time getting to know people, I wish I had planned this around a small dinner so everyone could have spent more time getting to meet each other. Though I wish you had stayed, we did not go out for dinner as planned but stayed home as everyone just hung around chatting till midnight with my meager snack offerings (I wish I had known, i wish I had planned differently). Well, i guess there is always next time.

My brother seemed to have enjoyed that evening and his stay in Geneva, in his short trip he seemed to have checked out the nightlife of Geneva, more than I have done in a year, even a visit to Bobinsky’s theatre (Coraline and Kempinski) I am glad you met. You mentioned that you are still waiting to tell me more about the 60s,70s and the hippie era and I am anxious to hear. As I mentioned earlier, my brother who celebrates his 40th this year(1969 born), has always symbolized that hippie era with his passion for music and his ideas, But I found a change this time, a radical change, i fear that the dream might have really been hijacked…

And finally from Bobinski, Kempinski we go to Polanski…you mentioned Polanski and the shock at his arrest and extradition in your last mail and I dived right in! I have reading all about his arrest in Zurich and extradition to the US and as much of the issues surrounding this peculiar case. You seemed to be intimately familiar with him and his work, and I am not so, which possibly makes it easier for me to view the issues without the emotional entanglement of the “persecution of a great artist” as is being projected by his sympathizers and my cynicism of the often arbitrary sweeping action of the authorities makes me equally skeptical of the justification for his arrest and extradition being presented by the authorities and blasted by the media. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roman_Polanski

Ronald Sokol’s NYT Op-Ed on the Polanski case:

https://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/03/opinion/03iht-edsokol.html

See below the artist at his creative best: Roman Polanski’s -The Pianist

As I struggled to understand the issues in full (which I still cannot claim), I stumbled across Yet Another American In Paris; well, Aix-en-Provence to be precise! Ronald Sokol is a lawyer in Provence, taught at the University of Virginia law school and made his way to France eventually. His op-ed in the Herald Tribune has to be one of the most educated, clear headed, balanced and brilliant pieces that puts the whole Polanski issue in perspective. Where were all these guys when I was in California…in Paris I guess! 

Roger, as you must know that there is no one more than me that believes that the protection of women and children should form the core values of every civilized society and we must continuously do our best to ensure that this value is reflected with every revision and evolution of the law. However, the law itself must be adhered to and respected without which every other right which we take for granted in which are enshrined these core values of our society stand to be jeopardized.

Sokol lays out the facts quite clearly:

Polanski pleaded guilty in 1978 (30 years ago) in Los Angeles to the felony of having sex with a minor. Grave crime, assaulting one of our core values as mentioned above.

Following the guilty plea Polanski fled the US rather than go to prison. There is social value in discouraging criminals from fleeing the jurisdiction, time should have been done.

The victim has forgiven him and does not want him to go to prison. This is not an issue to be determined by the victim/individual, a crime is not just an offense against the individual but an offense against the state.

Blah, blah from little p: However, in our fervent zeal to pursue truth and justice we must be cautious that we don’t do this in a manner that will undermine the law itself. We have ensure that it conforms to Due Process and the systems we have laid down for an efficient and effective system. Now back to Super S…

The US prosecuting attorney has absolute discretion to prosecute or not. The purpose he serves by embarking on this prosecution brings us to the primary aim of Criminal law: Revenge (illegitimate), Deterrence (he has been living in France for three decades with no history of crime),Punishment and Rehabilitation (not to be vindictive but help person to return to society as a normal member and in this case he has been living as a part of society)

The prosecuting attorney in L.A. has sought his extradition from Switzerland now in 2009, the first request made since 1978 a gap of 31 years.The legitimacy of such delayed prosecution is being called into question.

Polanski has been living and working openly in France and Switzerland as he is one of the most famous film directors in the world and could easily have been extradited from Switzerland long ago.

This three decade-long delay makes the prosecutors action appear arbitrary. Both the European Convention on human rights and the principles underlying the Due Process Clause reflected in 5th and 14th amendments to the US constitution caution against such arbitrary action. Otherwise, by this very arbitrary action the state will appear to mock the very rule of law it seeks to enforce. In my opinion Super Sokol could not have been clearer. Do check out the article (HT oct 3rd).

Roger, as you know the Due Process clause is based on the concept of fundamental fairness, a guarantee of basic fairness with the aim that with the use of fair procedures you would prevent the wrongful deprivation of interests (life, liberty and property). Based on the principle that the government must respect all the legal rights its owed to a person according to the law and holds that the government is subservient to the law of the land, protecting individuals from the State and the States’ arbitrariness. Bottom line, baddie, fugitive or otherwise, the extradition action against Polanski after a 30 year gap was outrageously arbitrary jeopardizing our very  process of law!

Happy birthday once again and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Hugs and a big kiss from ginormous green apple!

Purnima


10/8/09

Dear Purnima,

Wow, what a wonderful, long and fascinating email.  Thanks for the BD greetings.  They are much appreciated.

We leave this evening for Bruxelles and Magritte.  I can best picture you seated on my shoulder so you can share your impressions of his paintings.  It is one thing to admire them in a book of prints and quite another to actually stand in front of the original.

You’ll have to tell me more about your fears that the dream has been hijacked with regard to your brother.  I think I know what you mean, but I’m not completely sure.  It was fun meeting him, however brief it was.

Sorry the evening didn’t turn out as you had planned, but it sounds like everyone was very happy to stay and chat and munch on your delicious goodies.  I, too, wish we could have stayed.

And Polanski !  Your treatise on him and his arrest was quite a read.  I find myself torn between disdain for his drugging and seducing a 13 year-old and totally suspicious of the true reasons for his arrest at this time and place and so very long after the events.  It is obvious to me that there are far too many extra-legal factors involved, and I can’t help but wonder if the action on the part of the Swiss authorities, and their public defense of it, are not somehow related to the UBS and the problems of US citizens using Switzerland as a tax haven.  Your bottom-line paragraph is right on.

Got to run and finish packing, but I wanted to thank you for your email and your thoughts before leaving.  Have a great weekend and I’ll tell you all about Magritte and Keith Jarrett next week.

Gros bisous,

Roger

PURNIMA VISWANATHAN 

Disclaimer : P

All persons, places, events are fictitious; all imputed relationships purely aspirational. There were no men harmed during the penning of the Feminist Manifesto

Geneva Diaries #5

Indiana Jones, Inspector Clouseau, Nadir Shah, Tavernier- The Eternal Quest for the Kohinoor

8/13/09

Dear Roger,

It’s bubbling up and bursting out to rival the jet d’eau, tell me how u like it?

Jet d’Eau Geneva at Nighttime:

Jet d’Eau Geneva Photo by Purnima Viswanathan

I wish to persuade you that my life has not always been a dead end, and I am not a complete bore!

A sad, ironic, ridiculous tale of love and adventure: 

The last time I spoke to my beloved froggie (btw, kermit now resides in NYC), he said I reminded him of Inspector Clouseau running around Paris in my trench coat.This took a lot of swallowing, and I begged in my mind that he would say it really was sexxxy Olga that he was referring to, But NO. Imagine having a crush on a guy who (fondly?) compares you to a fumbling, bumbling, bushy eyebrowed detective who is always in hot pursuit of the Pink Panther. I found myself looking in the mirror numerous times and still not able to quite grasp his image (despite giving up waxing, there was no bushy mustache and eyebrows to match). See me as Peter Sellers being chased by assassins in The Pink Panther below:

But, as time passes I find in his description lies an uncanny prophecy, in some sense i find I have become inspector Clouseau. And The Pink Panther Strikes Again! I find myself continuously running being chased by a number of assassins from all over the world, who keep eyeballing me as they jog around the track in Park Betrand, waiting for their opportunity to strike. Of course, fortunately for me,I am Chief Inspector Clouseau, so they extinguish each other and I am left alone in my pursuit of the Pink Panther, the Kohinoor diamond. See Inspector Clouseau and The diamond below:

http://www.cartoonbucket.com/cartoons/inspector-clouseau-holding-diamond/

Well, since froggie so lovingly called me inspector Clouseau, and we both accepted this upside down world. I asked him in turn why the gods had sent Menaka in this form to distract me. See below the tale of Menaka the nymph of irresistible charm and exquisite beauty sent by the gods (of the Hindu Pantheon) to distract the great sage Vishwamitra from his meditations (I embody the great sage Vishwamitra as I descend from this great King turned sage from my grandmother’s side- Kowshiki). In our mythology, whenever an old brahmin/learned pundit  goes into deep meditation stirring up the cosmos acquiring immense power and energy and thus the weapons of the gods, the gods get alarmed by this disruption of the balance of the universe(the balance has to be inclined in their favor of course), and send forth such distractions in the form of demons and nymphs to get the sages to put an end to their meditations. And BOY was I distracted! See below the Tale of Menaka and Vishwamitra incorporated in the art, literature and spirit of the Indian Subcontinent:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Menaka

And once Vishwamitra is awakened the story naturally proceeds to give birth to Shakuntala the melodious and magnificent love story written in Sanskrit by Indian epic poet Kalidasa in the 4th century AD. See below my canvas for the modern day Shakuntala as I borrow the paint brush from the hands of India’s celebrated artist Raja Ravi Verma who through his art vividly evokes and immortalizes the magical images of ancient India literature:

See below Raja Ravi Verma’s iconic works of art depicting Menaka and Vishwamitra and Shakuntala:

https://www.wikiart.org/en/raja-ravi-varma

Famous Paintings by Raja Ravi Verma:

See below my modern day rendition of the iconic image of Shakuntala holding out her hand with the ring of recognition, an image like the above by Raja Ravi Verma surrounded by magical backwaters and swaying palms of Kerala:

Shakuntala’s Ring – Photo by Purnima Viswanathan

Raja Ravi Verma’s Shakuntala below:

Since then I have fully embraced this role and added a couple of others to the mix (Indiana Jones, Tintin in Tibet, why is it that the boys always get the fun adventurous roles!), and continued my hunt for the Kohinoor. This magnificent stone has a complex and bloody history as it has changed hands, seen coups and invasions, imprisonments and assassinations by those that have beheld it (not only by those that have possessed it). My tryst with the Kohinoor occurred many a moon ago as The Jeweler to The Maharajas (and the narrator of my tale) ominously whispered into my ear on my wedding day that I should realize I was being bestowed The Kohinoor. See below NYT article on the book The Koh-i-Noor by William Dalrymple which depicts the tragic consequences of ones who entranced by its aura are driven in a frenzy to possess it:

It’s first mention was supposedly in the Baburnama, the memoirs of the great Mughal ruler Babur. However, it had yet to acquire its name Kohinoor (mountain of light) and so was mentioned as a large magnificent diamond in the Mughal treasury. There was another diamond called the Great Mogul, the largest known diamond, which was supposed to be 900 carats in the rough, the size of a hens egg in half, which was also a part of the Mughal treasury. The last detailed account of which was given by Jean Baptiste Tavernier in his six voyages, where he was invited to view the precious gems of the Mughal treasury during his visit to Aurangzeb’s court in 1665. We have since never heard of the Great Mogul diamond

https://publicdomainreview.org/collection/the-six-voyages-of-john-baptista-tavernier-1678

There have been various speculations regarding this magnificent stone: the primary one being that it was taken by Nadir Shah during his invasion of India in 1738 along with the Kohinoor (which he named) and the famous peacock throne. The second speculation is that the Great Mogul was probably cut down to make the Kohinoor diamond and others, as we don’t have any concrete information about the Kohinoor’s origins and no information about the Great Moguls endings. Finally, some have speculated that it journeyed all the way to Russia, and sits in the Kremlin as the Orloff diamond (I certainly have my next destination mapped out for me, mustache and eyebrows in tow!).   See Nadir Shah by fandom below: https://assassinscreed.fandom.com/wiki/Nāder_Shāh

So here I am in Geneva, in hot pursuit of Tavernier who ended up purchasing the Barony of Aubonne (just outside Geneva in the canton of Vaud!). This incredible traveller (sixty thousand leagues overland), not only travelled far and wide in search of the treasures of the world. He was the greatest authority on gems in that time and wrote details of the glorious gems, gold, pearls, indigo, pepper that was to be found in the exotic shores of India. He was one of the people responsible for spinning the story of India in vivid hues that  propelled the journeys to India in pursuit of these very treasures. His description of diamonds the size of Hens eggs, enormous pearls that hang from peacock tails, richly colored silks heavy with gold thread and of course his famous description of the peacock throne as (see the wiki description below):

A 4ft by 6ft (takht)bed with gold feet, distinguished by a peacock, whose outspread tail was made of blue sapphires and other colored gems, and whose body was of enameled gold studded with precious stones, and with a large ruby in front, whence hung a pear-shaped pearl, about 50 carats in weight, or 200 grains. On either side of the peacock, and at about the same height, there stood two bouquets, the flowers of which were of enameled gold and precious stones. See below The Peacock Throne:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peacock_Throne

https://www.karipearls.com/peacock-throne.html

 Tavernier goes on to say that, “on the side of the throne facing the Court, there is an open-set jewel, whence hangs a diamond from 80 to 90 carats in weight, and surrounded by rubies and emeralds, and when the king is seated he has this jewel right in front of him.” 

With descriptions such as the above, do you not think that the Spanish (and the other European wealthy states with colonial aspirations) would fund Columbus’s proposed voyage to India as he promises to return with cargo laden with diamonds the size of hen’s eggs and immeasurable gold. Now Zinn’s A Peoples History of the United States seems a step closer to reality, as I can envision how the natives must have been beaten and bled to extract their  pound of gold. Where were the silks, the indigo, the pepper, how could they return empty handed home! All I can say is that we (in India) certainly “Started the fire…” and you landed America.

Back to Indiana Jones, Clouseau, The Pink Panther! It’s been told that the Kohinoor which found its way from Maharaja Ranjit Singh (A long journey from Nadir Shah, but all in the same neck of the woods), to queen Victoria and now it rests (no sits, how can the pink panther ever rest) in the tower of London embedded in a crown. So, I went to visit the Tower of London to see for myself…AND it was nooooot there! No buddy, it was not the pink panther. I know i will know it when I see it (after all I am the chief inspector!). So here I am in Geneva, in hot pursuit of Tavernier and his whereabouts. I thought I saw him, I thought I found him, our eyes met…but these bushy eyebrows got in the way and he was gone.

Roger, as you know, I have spent the summer in Geneva endlessly walking the dog (with the 22 assassins in hot pursuit), and entertaining the kids by taking them to the Geneva summer festival and museums. I was exhausted and we were all museum-ed out, when Tara, my 9 year old suggested that we visit the Museum of Natural History. “OK, well here I go again, another long day”, I though. So we trooped to the museum and wandered around, re-looking at the turtle with two heads for the nth time and trying to transcribe (fabricate/use creative license for) all the French headings. It was in this tired, bored and delirious state, wanting to break out of the “mommy” mould and make some mischief when we stumbled upon a long dark room filled with rocks and minerals. There it lay, proudly perched on its pedestal: the Pink Panther and the great Mogul, the gems of India! They were two, not one diamond as everyone had long speculated. There they lay bathed in soft unassuming light cradled in the  “regular” display cabinet. So this is where Tavernier had brought them and placed them, posing as replicas only to be discovered by the sharp scrutinizing eye of the chief inspector Clouseau himself.  What better surroundings, may they Rest In Peace!

See below the kids all time fav – Musee D’Histoire Naturelle de Suisse:

http://institutions.ville-geneve.ch/fr/mhn/

See you soon.

Purnima


On Thu, Sep 24, 2009 , Roger Stevenson wrote:

Dear Purnima,

I’m feeling a bit less hassled tonight.  I’m glad the weekend is approaching.

I’m happy to hear that you are having a really positive experience at your Ecole Migros, and that’s a really fascinating question you ask about having some « preprogrammed » innate ability to learn French.  I’m sure most of it is your inherent and wonderful intelligence, but I can’t help but agree somewhat with Chomsky that human beings are genetically programmed to use and produce intelligible language.  There are many species in nature, however, who communicate with audible sounds – perhaps it’s just a different kind of language that we humans can’t understand.  On the other hand, I don’t believe that we have some innate ability to acquire a specific language.  While there is still much we don’t fully understand about first language acquisition, it is pretty widely accepted that an infant child learns his or her mother tongue by being exposed to it over a space of time and that he or she begins to produce utterances in that language spontaneously once the initial process of aural comprehension has progressed far enough.  The mother tongue that is acquired is, of necessity, the language the child is exposed to.  I don’t know of any case where a child born into a particular linguistic community comes away from the process speaking a language that is different from that of the community.

I had a student in Oregon who was born in Korea but adopted at the age of just a few months by an American family and raised in the US.  She told me that when her mother would take her downtown when she was just a baby, she had several people ask when the baby was going to begin speaking Korean !  They apparently believed that she was genetically wired to speak the language of her biological parents.  That, of course, wasn’t the case, and she is totally anglophone and speaks no Korean at all.

While I have no scientific evidence to back this up, I do feel that a second, acquired language resides in a slightly different part of the brain than the mother tongue.  Whenever I go back to Denmark for more than a few days, I find myself almost totally thinking in Danish again.  It is rather easy for me to translate orally from Danish to English and visa versa, or from French to English, but I have a really difficult time going back and forth between French and Danish.  In fact, I can remember one Christmas we spent in Denmark and I was really blown away by the fact that when I would attempt to explain things to Annick in French, I would often, in fact, do it in Danish and not be aware that I was speaking Danish rather than French.  It was really weird.  It is as though both my Danish and my French are stored in the same lobe and are somewhat conflictual.

Chomsky had a major impact on linguistics in the States and was somewhat at odds with Saussure, but we can discuss that later.  My more recent interest in Chomsky is as a political activist and analyst of underlying patterns and motifs in the political discourse of not just the United States, but throughout the world.  He is an amazing thinker.  I heard him speak at the University of Geneva four or five years ago to a standing room only crowd.  He was also interviewed for the book we did on the United Nations and I transcribed the interview for Annick so she could have access to the actual text of the interview.  He was brutally frank about the negative consequences of the United States’ position of influence in the UN.  By the way, the book, « Planet UN » was released in France yesterday and the English translation in the States.  It still isn’t out in Geneva yet, however.  I checked out a copy of it at FNAC in Lyon yesterday afternoon.

Annick is whisking me off to Bucharest and Brasov, Romania on Saturday as a birthday present.  I’m really looking forward to the trip.  I have always wanted to visit Romania, but have never had the chance.  We return on the 1st.

What time is your BD party on the third ?  Can we bring anything ?

More in a day or two from Transylvania.  What do you think, should I go visit Dracula’s castle ?  It’s right near Brasov.

Sweet dreams,

Roger


De : purnima

Envoyé : mercredi 23 septembre 2009 16:51

À : Roger Stevenson

Objet : Ecole Migros!

Dear Roger,

It seems like forever since I last connected with you, well as I was surfing last night with Darwin (until you find me some men with a pulse for a change to spend my evenings with) on this special 200th anniversary of his birth,  guess who flickered on my screen…Chomsky, and of course he promptly directed me right  to you. 

As you know, I have been attending french classes at Ecole Migros, and have found to my amazement that just with our three months together which was my introduction to the French language, I am able to follow perfectly almost to the point that I am unable to discern whether I am hearing the instructors voice in English or in French! Yes, if I drift off which I often do, I am not able to hear anything at all. So, my question is: was it you that worked the magic wand or was there some pre-programmed “innate” ability to acquire the French language in me. This of course brought my straight to my one and only long term relationship, my devotion to Darwin and I surfed Darwin and the evolution of language. Well, as I am sure you know if there have been any challenges thrown to Darwins theory of evolution, the acquisition of language (which is unique to our species) is one of them. This is tough terrain, and he had to respond and defend his theories, without the large reservoir of knowledge on genetics and linguistics that we have today. He acknowledged that language was not itself instinctive but like birds who have an instinct to call/sing, but the song itself has to be learnt; similarly humans have an instinct to acquire language, even though the language itself has to be learned.   

In my trying to understand Darwin, I repeatedly encountered your friend Chomsky (and you will have to shed more light/correct me), who I believe says that humans are hardwired for speech and what is learned cannot account for it all. Is language a biologically determined, do we somewhere have a map an imprint in our brains which we just “re-learn”? 

Well, the most exciting part of my journey down this road was the many familiar places I visited, California, Geneva and India. Apparently, Chomsky defers to Panini, the 4th century BC, great Indian Sanskrit grammarian from Gandhara who stands at the beginning of the history of linguistics itself(see how all roads lead to India)! Not much is known about him apart from references in the Panchatantra (wonderful Indian folk tales about animals, the precursor to Aesops Fables) and Hieun Tsang, the Chinese buddhist monk and traveller.

Then I stumbled upon Jean Piaget, the the Swiss psychologist and natural scientist (who created the school of sciences at the University of Geneva) and his great debate with Chomsky (how I wish we could see that on u-tube in satire!). Chomsky’s position being that the most important properties of mind are innate and Piaget position being that scientific knowledge is constructed by scientist and not discovered from the world, the only reality we can know is that represented by human thought. Well, that’s not all, Piaget has had so much impact on the field of computer science  we can connect him all the way home on the other side of the planet at R&D at Xerox in Palo Alto, California!

Finally, from Panini and Sanskrit, I went straight (back) to Saussure, Swiss linguist born in Geneva in 1857, known as the father of modern linguistics where he studied Sanskrit, latin and Greek and taught Sanskrit at the University of Geneva!  All these personas excite me today even though I had them peering at me from the bookshelves at home. As the elders of my family (symbolically)invited Max Muller into our living room and talked about the interconnectedness of Latin , Greek and Sanskrit…I was eternally absorbed with brushing my long brown hair!

See below Purnima with Saussure in Chamonix:

Purnima with Saussure in Chamonix- Photo by Purnima Viswanathan

Back to Ecole Migros and this uncanny comprehension of French…what do you think?

Well, Roger, I must tell you I am having fun and I seem to have a group of people from all across the world: Panama, Finland (I think I have met half the four million Finns in Geneva!), England, Russia!  And guess what they all have in common, they have all been taught a second language from primary school! 

I was sharing with them my absolute belief that the children must be introduced to a second language right from primary school, and how the public school system in California did not provide for that( despite the fact that half the population is probably Spanish speaking anyway). So, I put Tara who was 7, into an after school Spanish class as we had decided that California was home and that was going to be the most useful language which unfortunately turned out to be basic daycare. I would have chosen French as a second language for my kids, especially with all my grandmothers nagging in the background, but unfortunately I don’t think French has really permeated down into the popular culture of America, its preferred in certain circles, but do “the Teenagers” think its cool is the ultimate question. What do u think, would your kids have opted for French as a second language living in America?

Lots of love, see you soon…Darwin is calling!

Purnima 


Dear Purnima,

Wonderful to get your email.  I just now found it waiting for me after I returned home from a rather long day (eye doctor appointment in Lyon today, all–day trip to Beaune in Burgundy yesterday – really a neat little city that seems to cater exclusively to wine connoisseurs.  I feel like I am now immersed in a clutter of flotsam rather than simply floating on the surface.

Anyway, I’m dreadfully sorry for my prolonged silence. 

So, you’ve discovered linguistics, Chomsky and transformational grammar and Ferdinand Saussure – the two giants of modern linguistics.  Can’t wait to have a long discussion with you about it all, perhaps after we spend some time musing over the great liberating movements of the 1970’s as you flutter your dazzling eyes and gently stroke the flowers in your hair.

More tomorrow.  It’s late and I have another long day tomorrow.

Gros bisous,

Roger

P.S.  The get together on the 3rd sounds wonderful !  It will be a treat to meet your brother


Date: Mon, Sep 28, 2009 at 1:32 AM

Dear Purnima,

Busy day in a city that is both run down and modern.  Interesting to see the contrast between the luxury of some areas and the poverty in others.  But it is an interesting city and culture  Visited a wonderful museum of peasantry in Romania this morning and had our first experience with low level corruption with a ticket controleur on a bus. 

More details later.  Heading for Transylvania in morning.

Sorry you had a tough evening the other day.  It will be good when your brother arrives.

Love

Roger

Disclaimer : P

All persons, places, events are fictitious; all imputed relationships purely aspirational. There were no men harmed during the penning of the Feminist Manifesto.

Purnima Viswanathan 

Geneva Diaries #4

Randomness and The Black Swan Servitus

 8/12/09

The Black Swan-Photo by Purnima Viswanathan

Natalie Portman as The Black Swan:

Dear Purnima,

Wow, Talk about a random event – I just found this email in my spam box.  It

is the first and only time that an email from you has been dumped there.

Totally fascinating that you should relate Black Swan to the theatre – at

the Ashland Shakespeare Festival, my very favorite theatre there was a small

(seats about 80), very intimate setting where they do more modern and

somewhat experimental plays.  It’s called The Black Swan !

But on the other side of the mirror, I can indeed envision randomness in the

theatre.  I think it would be outrageous to write and produce a play where

the action and the eventual outcome was based on the intrusion of totally

random events during the performance.  It would have to entail actors who

were really capable of improvisation, and the potential for really boring

and meaningless performances would have to be accepted, but there would also

be the possibility of that extraordinary theatrical moment when new vistas

and visions were cracked open by the arrival of the Black Swan.  To my

knowledge, nobody has ever attempted such a play.  The Surrealists and the

subsequent Absurdists in France created some really fascinating plays in

which random happenings and chance occurrences were an element in everyday

life, but the structure of their plays was not such that such events had any

bearing on the way the play was staged – each night’s performance was the

same as the previous night’s.

But the high priest of Surrealism in France, André Breton, made many forays

into the world of dreams and chance happenings in his quest for a reality

that was superior to what we commonly refer to as reality.  He and his

followers used such techniques as automatic writing and many of them used to

spend their afternoons wandering the streets of Paris in search of random

events that would then be incorporated into their art and poetry.  Breton

met one of the women in his life during one such jaunt.

And in the virtual realm, we would have to infuse the many exciting features

of the theatre with elements of chaos theory.  I’ll have to give that more

thought.

Hope you have a good weekend.  When do you fly off to the land of illusions

?  You might find this book by Chris Hedges revealing:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=106853619

Gros bisous,

Roger


Sep 11, 2009, 3:41 AM

Dear Roger,

The shadow of the Black Swan seems to be flapping above me, even though the book is long read. See below the nightmarish scene from the Black Swan:

Somehow, I am stirred to write especially today, Jeune Genevois, September 10th, 2009, a day of fasting, a public holiday here in Geneva, where the citizens of Geneva held an annual fast in camaraderie with the protestants being persecuted all over France. And, weren’t the persecutors heartless, the inquisition drenched in the blood of whole villages…I read and read. After all, was Geneva not the hub of freedom and reformation, where intellectuals fled for protection of their faith and the freedom to express their ideas?

Heretic:

One who holds controversial opinions and dissents from the officially accepted dogma…

Anyone who does not conform to an established doctrine, attitude or principle.

A person with an opinion of his own who normally expresses it.

I then embarked upon a journey of meeting these Historical Heretics, the swans that had been tied and burned. I met Akenaten, the heretical pharaoh who challenged the prevailing order and established a new world oder with the worship of the sun at the singular deity; Joan of Arc, challenging convention, literally a woman in mans pants; Galileo, an astronomer, physicist, mathematician, who went against the geocentric Ptolemaic idea that had prevailed for over a millennia to propose a heliocentric world, emphasizing a separation of faith and science; Spinoza, one of the greatest philosophers and the greatest heretic of Judaism in his time, who emphasized on the guidance of reason; Giordano Bruno, a mathematician, philosopher and astronomer (who said that he went to Geneva so that he may live in liberty and security), proposed a heliocentric and infinite universe and the possibility of many parallel worlds(he has to be my favorite!), And then our very own Servetus, a physician, theologian, astronomer, humanist who questioned everything, challenged norms, who fleeing from his imprisonment in Vienna on his way to northern Italy, just stopped for the night in Geneva…

Denounced as heretics, assassinated, imprisoned, excommunicated, BURNED AT THE STAKE with their books tied to their ankles! 

I come back to the Black Swan and the varied realities. The Black Swan represents that inconceivable, unfathomable, and unanticipate-able occurrence, an unknowable formula, a model that throws all others off, which if you accept the reality of, it would bring your carefully constructed world down, crashing! There is the underlying fear that the very existence of the Black Swan somehow denies your existence.The fact that you see the sun rising in the shape of a smiley banana, the sky raining kangaroos and the Porsche you worship turning into a frog with puckered lips looking at you for a ride (there is always a frog in my story!), makes you wonder whether you and everything you believe to be real exist at all. Or possibly if this exists , perhaps you don’t! How could you occupy the same space with this irrationality. So, violently and vehemently, you deny its existence at the same time reaffirming yours. You then use all the tools, laws and logic of your universe to erase the swan. Even the temples of learning and the high priests of wisdom succumb and burn the swan, the heretic, with the fires of vengeance into the ashes of silence.

Imagine  1500 years of “knowing” that the earth lies at the centre of the universe and we are all that life is about and everything revolves around us supported by fact, fiction, mythology, faith…and then you have jolly Galileo turning it all upside down. I guess you would have done what has been done to the Black Swans throughout history, denied their existence, to the extent of denying them their existence. Would you?

The story does not end…

Purnima


Dear Roger,

Do you believe that Servetus, a refugee from Spain, hunted by the inquisition in France and executed in Geneva, can still today burn here in Geneva?

The shadow of the Black Swan that fluttered above my head whispered into my ear, “Purnima, what are you doing here in Geneva?”. I looked up to see the kindest face furrowed with concern. What was I doing in Geneva, living here in Champel, from California (not too far from Spain) and two weeks short of my 42nd year!

 He said that that he was on his way to Italy, and seduced by the lake and Calvin with whom he had many fiery exchanges, he came to rest here for a night. This Spanish physician, philosopher, theologian, humanist was arrested, imprisoned, declared a heretic by the city council and burned at the stake in his 42nd year.

We walked together across Bourg-de-Four Square, him in chains and me in air, up rue de Saint-Antoine out towards Champel. My home, and the place he was tied with his books and burned. It was here that he turned towards me and said that the judgement against me has been long delivered, it just waits execution. I must not hold out, I must not test my strength but beg for the sword, just beg for the sword!

So with this dramatic end, I must say goodnight and hope tomorrow is a sunny day.

goodnight

Purnima

PS: How can I end this without this fab performance by BTS – Black Swan see below:

https://youtu.be/0lapF4DQPKQ

Disclaimer : P

All persons, places, events are fictitious; all imputed relationships purely aspirational. There were no men harmed during the penning of the Feminist Manifesto.

Purnima Viswanathan 

Geneva Diaries #3

Servitus, Black Swan, Ashland, (in)Tolerance

9/10/09

Dear Roger,

Do you believe that Servetus, a refugee from Spain, hunted by the inquisition in France and executed in Geneva, can still today burn here in Geneva?

The shadow of the Black Swan that fluttered above my head whispered into my ear, “Purnima, what are you doing here in Geneva?”. I looked up to see the kindest face furrowed with concern, it was MICHEL SERVETUS. What was I doing in Geneva, living here in Champel, (not too far from Spain) and two weeks short of my 42nd year!

 He said that that he was on his way to Italy, and seduced by the lake and Calvin with whom he had many fiery exchanges, he came to rest here for a night. Servetus, this Spanish physician, philosopher, theologian, humanist was arrested, imprisoned, declared a heretic by the city council and burned at the stake in his 42nd year.

We walked together across Bourg-de-Four Square, him in chains and me in air, up rue de Saint-Antoine out towards Champel. My home, and the place he was tied with his book and burned. This burning of Servetus by the canton of Geneva symbolized the sacrifice of the freedom of conscience and due process of laws.

 It was here that he, Servetus’s spirit, turned towards me and said that the judgement against me has been long delivered, it just waits execution. I must not hold out, I must not test my strength but beg for the sword, just beg for the sword!

See Servetus in the wikipedia link Below:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Servetus

Purnima on Servitus’s Trail – the Walk of Death Up Rue de Saint-Antoine to Champel.

Purnima on Servitus’s Trail, Geneva, Switzerland-Photo by Purnima Viswanathan

Through the underbelly of Geneva…Remembering the errors men make and then ERR AGAIN:

Purnima on Servitus’s Trail, Geneva, Switzerland-Photo by Purnima Viswanathan

Rue Michel Servet Geneva:

Rue Michel-Servet, Geneva, Switzerland-Photo by Purnima Viswanathan

A Plaque erected condemning the error attached to the denial of the freedom of conscience:

Purnima on Servitus’s Trail, Geneva, Switzerland-Photo by Purnima Viswanathan

Above translated: Respectful and grateful sons of Calvin our great reformer but condemning an error which was that of his century and firmly attached to freedom of conscience according to the true principles of the reformation and the gospel we erected this expiatory monument.

I may have left but my spirit still lingers with Servetus in Geneva. See Purnima with the Servetus Plaque:

Purnima on Servitus’s Trail, Geneva, Switzerland-Photo by Purnima Viswanathan

So with this dramatic end, I must say goodnight and hope tomorrow is a sunny day.

goodnight

Purnima


Dear Purnima,

There is no intolerance the equal of religious fanaticism in the guise of tolerance, and no religion has an edge over any other in terms of devising monstrous ways of keeping the « faithful » in line.  Burning heretics, and witches or Jews during the Spanish inquisition, are all precursors of modern political renderings, assassinations and disappearances (the Bush and Co. meme about « If your not with us, you’re against us, and, therefore, a traitor keeps turning over and over in my mind).  It was fine for the Protestants of Geneva to set aside a day of fasting for the other beleaguered Protestants all over Europe, but they turned out to be just as ruthless and diabolical in « rooting out » anything that represented a threat to the status quo.  Even modern so-called secular society brims with examples : Alan Turing, a brilliant mathematician and national hero in England because he broke the German communication codes during WW II, was figuratively « burned at the stake » of sexual conformity and suppressive Victorian moral codes because of his homosexuality.

http://in.reuters.com/article/entertainmentNews/idINIndia-42388920090911

Have a wonderful trip to Basel.  Are you taking the train or driving ?

New York is now officially off, so any day that fits your schedule next week will work, but Tuesday would work well for me.

Bisous,

Roger


On Aug 14, 2009, “Roger Stevenson wrote:

Dear Purnima,

Wow, Talk about a random event – I just found this email in my spam box.  It

is the first and only time that an email from you has been dumped there.

Totally fascinating that you should relate Black Swan to the theatre – at

the Ashland Shakespeare Festival, my very favorite theatre there was a small

(seats about 80), very intimate setting where they do more modern and

somewhat experimental plays.  It’s called The Black Swan !

https://www.osfashland.org/en/company/our-history/performance-spaces/black-swan.aspx

But on the other side of the mirror, I can indeed envision randomness in the

theatre.  I think it would be outrageous to write and produce a play where

the action and the eventual outcome was based on the intrusion of totally

random events during the performance.  It would have to entail actors who

were really capable of improvisation, and the potential for really boring

and meaningless performances would have to be accepted, but there would also

be the possibility of that extraordinary theatrical moment when new vistas

and visions were cracked open by the arrival of the Black Swan.  To my

knowledge, nobody has ever attempted such a play.  The Surrealists and the

subsequent Absurdists in France created some really fascinating plays in

which random happenings and chance occurrences were an element in everyday

life, but the structure of their plays was not such that such events had any

bearing on the way the play was staged – each night’s performance was the

same as the previous night’s.

But the high priest of Surrealism in France, André Breton, made many forays

into the world of dreams and chance happenings in his quest for a reality

that was superior to what we commonly refer to as reality.  He and his

followers used such techniques as automatic writing and many of them used to

spend their afternoons wandering the streets of Paris in search of random

events that would then be incorporated into their art and poetry.  Breton

met one of the women in his life during one such jaunt.

And in the virtual realm, we would have to infuse the many exciting features

of the theatre with elements of chaos theory.  I’ll have to give that more

thought.

Hope you have a good weekend.  When do you fly off to the land of illusions?  You might find this book by Chris Hedges revealing:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=106853619

Gros bisous,

Roger


Date: Sat, Sep 12, 2009

Subject: Servitus

Hi again,

Now it is I who is on the verge of bombarding.

There is scant reference to Servitus on the web, but I did find this interesting bit that sheds further light on why he was arrested, brought to trial and burned, in a rather ghastly way.  But the author of this short piece seems to find some kind of redeeming light in Servitus’ martyrdom.  Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh !

http://www.uh.edu/engines/epi689.htm


Dear Purnima,

I feel like I’m still floating in a sea of neglected chores and catch up after being gone for four days, and that after wading through the throngs of tourists in Barcelona on Sunday afternoon.  We did catch a wonderful exhibit at the Barcelona Cultural Centre, “Le Siècle de Jazz” that traced the evolution of America’s one true and original art form and its influence on literature and art.  It was a veritable flood of images, sounds, album covers, sheet music, books, paintings, more sounds, all of which evoked a cascade of memories from different times in my life and the countless hours I have spent listening and admiring, first on those little 45 rpm records, then on 78 rpm vinyl disks, then on cassette tapes and finally on CD’s and MP3 recordings.

When do you want to do lunch ?  I had hoped to be able to come into Geneva this week, but it has been impossible.  Would Monday work for you ?  We are leaving again on Weds. for New York – yes, I know, I feel like a gadfly with all these trips, and it has only started.  At least flying on Swiss will be more comfortable than the Easyjet flight we took from Barcelona to Geneva on Monday.

I hope you’ve been well and enjoying your car and the nice weather.

See you soon,

Roger


8/28/09

Loki and Co

Dear Purnima,

I’m back.  It was a short but strenuous trip to the land of the Vikings and my Dutch steed was even a bit late ferrying me back to the shores of Helvetica.  I dutifully kept a watchful eye for any unicorns in the various forests I travelled through and over, but the local bards all informed me that except for their symbolic  representation as the principal motif on the Danish throne they were last seen as they began their migration to warmer climes in the mountains of Transylvania in eastern Romania and Moldavia.  The forlorn mermaid in question was left dangling on the horn of indecision unable to make that fateful and often fatal choice, and even the counsel of Thor and Freyja could not budge her one way or the other.  My suggestion to her was that she resume her lilting pose on her partially submerged stone at the entrance to Copenhagen’s harbor where she can at least observe, if not fully partake in, both worlds.  As I slowly retreated into the alluring depths of post-modern Copenhagen, I could see her staring wistfully out over the horizon.

I always have real pangs of nostalgia when I leave the fairytale-like country of Denmark, and that was especially the case last night as we took off into the sunset and headed south.

Hope you had a good week.  What are you up to at the beginning of next week?  I’ve lots to relate and so do you.  Hope we can get together then.  I’m leaving again on Thursday, but headed south this time.

Sweet dreams,

Roger


Dear Roger,

This is my first communication from my new ship, I’m very happy as its quick, sleek (platinum blonde) and light, quite a head turner!  

loved your email, It sounds like you are in for quite an adventure. Wherever you go, you must promise to carry me on the tip of your spectacles. I wish to hear all. I hope I will get a chance to meet the “merry” mermaid after your great rescue (does she desire to be rescued?) and if possible receive news of unicorn sightings, I believe they frequent those northern waters. And if you manage to bring them both back, I would love to be finally invited to the Ark (you must be close to the finish, you seem to be building forever) especially now, as I fully expect to find a collection of the worlds most exotic creatures preserved for posterity.

My trip was an adventure from he time I embarked the plane, and now that i am back home I have been mulling over it. You mentioned the mermaid and the undercity, well I also visited an undercity, the New York subway system (it was straight from the game I had mentioned earlier-knights of the old republic). It sent a thrill up my spine as I descended deep down into the subterranean network, with varied accents, frenzied glances and exotic looks, each man for himself, I saw Rakghouls and Gamorrean traders around every pillar. I then approached the ticket collector who was standing outside her protective cubicle, she visibly geared up, reinforced herself as I approached as though her 6 foot frame must be prepared for a full frontal attack(, again right out of the game). And after making a quick assessment with her razor sharp vision, not perceiving any immediate threat(from tiny p) she was very helpful. 


Dear Purnima,

Just returned from my little jaunt to Munich last night.  Delighted to find your email.  I’m glad that you’re finding Zinn so engrossing – he is such a refreshing whiff of honesty and reality in face of all the sugar-coated pablum that most Americans are spoon fed through their education, the main-stream media and other organs of propaganda used by the institutions that control the unreality of the American dream.  It sometimes feels a bit like The Truman Show.  You don’t have to go far to find the “official” version of US history.  It’s everywhere.

I had an absolutely delightful time in Munich.  My friend John met me at the airport Saturday and we spent the afternoon walking through the extensive and really wonderful English Gardens and strolling through the pedestrian streets of the downtown.  That evening we had a dinner in a quaint little restaurant near the zoo where there were about a dozen of their friends gathered to celebrate their wedding.  I sat across the table from a young Korean woman who had lived in the States since the age of 13, but who was now living in Munich.  We talked a lot about her integration into American society, and she shares many of your same experiences and concerns.  We ate and talked and drank (me, I had a really delicious white wine to go with my Dorade Royale meal) and forgot all about the time.  It was nearly 3:00 am by the time we got back to the hotel.  Surprisingly, I didn’t feel tired at all – it was a lot like my graduate school days when I used to pull all-nighters finishing a paper.

Hope the fireworks were great.  You must have had a super vantage point.  Too bad I missed both that and the lipstick.  I’m a great fan of deep, rich colors, especially on such tantalizing lips.

Tendres bisous,

Roger


8/13/09

Hi again,

Thought you would find this video of Obama interesting.

http://www.talkingpointsmemo.com/livewire/2009/08/obama-harvey-milk-stirred-the-aspirations-of-millions.php?ref=fpblg

Moi


8/8/09

A People’s History of the United States: An Alternate Perspective

Dear Roger,

Thank you for the book, your recommended reading has set my heart ablaze. Reading Zinn’s “Columbus, The Indians and Human Progress” Chapter 1, and “The Empire and the People” Chapter 12,  has me down into the dreary dark depths of human nature; are we as a species truly capable of such insensitivity and how do we justify it? 

Just so that I may rebalance my perspective, reverting to my nature to view both sides, I sincerely request being lent the “Establishment Version” to review.

And for now, I will just have to put this wretchedly riveting book down, put on some lipstick and leave to join friends on their rooftop garden to enjoy  a wonderful evening viewing the musical fireworks that will light up Geneva’s skies this 8th of August. A world far, far away from the grotesque face of Truth!

I wish I could share my passion for lipstick with you Roger…Oh the constraints of being born a boy!

Kisses (in sun-drenched orange),

Purnima


On Jul 20, 2009, “Roger Stevenson” wrote:

Dear Purnima,

Saw a delicious but troubling film, “The Reader”, an adaptation of Bernhard Schlink’s best selling novel.  It seems to pose the question, “how do you react when you discover that the woman you had a brief affair with as a young student and who left an indelible mark on your soul is really some kind of amoral monster because of her past as a concentration camp guard?”  During this idyllic affair, the young student’s initiation to carnal pleasure, she loved to have him read to her and insisted that he read something, always great literature, prior to their love making.  That act of reading to someone else is the thematic thread that is woven throughout the film/novel.  (some of my fondest and long-lasting memories of my mother are of her reading stories to me as a child). And now I ask myself how that act could be adapted to this virtual, ethereal medium.  Can one be a virtual reader in a medium that is largely, at least for the time being, text oriented?  The real clincher in the film/novel is that the woman is illiterate and suffers tragic consequences rather than admit her shortcoming.

I’m trying to free up some time this week, but it’s not easy.  Celine, Vincent and Alexandra staying with us until August 19th (They’re moving to Valencia in Spain) and it’s hard to get away.  Weds. and Thursday are Tour de France days.  Maybe Friday afternoon.   Would that work for you ?

Looking forward to seeing you very soon,

Bisous,

Roger


De : PURNIMA

Envoyé : mardi 21 juillet 2009 18:23

À : Roger Stevenson

Objet : Re: This week

Dear Roger

I saw The Reader in two parts with a gap of two months in between and I still absolutely loved it. I was keen to see the movie as it had my favorite Ralf Fiennes, the same intense and seductive character from The English Patient, but there was too little of him. I wanted to see him fall back in love with the same woman now in her sixties and have a passionate affair.  I guess Hollywood is not quite ready for that yet.

As for moving from this movie this experience from the physical, from text, to the virtual, it’s already done. It  transcended text and moved into the virtual by its conversion into a popular  multimedia format and our discussions of it, both the text and film, online!

And so the virtual world continues to be created the final form of this creature, an arena of collective experiences, whether this be  Paradise or the Death Star it is to be waited to be seen.  

Hope to see u soon.     

PURNIMA 


On Jul 24, 2009, at 10:08 PM, “Roger Stevenson” wrote:

Dear Purnima,

I should have realized that you had seen « The Reader ».  Ralph Fiennes is one of my very favorite actors.  I loved him also in « The English Patient » and he was superb in « The Constant Gardner » together with Gretha Weitz.  I always felt that he would have made a far better Denys Finch Hatton for Meryl Streep’s Karen Blixen in « Out of Africa »  He even looks a lot like Hatton, and I thought that Robert Redford was really flat in that role.

Do you think in « The Reader » that he ever really fell out of love with her ? 

I don’t, however, think that merely transforming the novel into a movie and discussing it over the internet really answers my question about how one can be a « reader » for someone else in this virtual medium.  There has to be an audible, comprehensible voice.  Skype, and, of course, cellphones are a step in the right direction, but it doesn’t quite fit the bill.

Bisous,

Roger


De : PURNIMA

Envoyé : lundi 27 juillet 2009 11:36

À : Roger Stevenson

Objet : Re: The Reader

Dear Roger

As I wait at the Swiss immigration office in Geneva for the nth hour, I am afraid I am going to be inundating you with mail ( even though I have the Black Swan sitting quietly in my handbag begging to be read).

It’s incredible how you seem to reflect my thoughts and put my words in such coherent language (finally I seem to have punctuation), whether it’s Ralph Fiennes or religion. A mirror image? Have u ever conceived of a female you? U know it exists.  

Back to the Reader, despite the fact that they made the female character illiterate and the male played the classic educating role ( when will the Anglo male get over the pygmalionesque fetish), it was good to see the female also playing an educating role, however earthy. 

I suppose I can find parallels in our philosophy,  a representation of Prakriti and Purusha, the earthly or rooted to the ground as represented by the female and the essence or the Spirit as represented by the male.  However, I have always understood the two sides to be equal parts of the whole, elemental and essential representing the balance of life. But we know in this concept, somehow the male element representing the intellectual educated voice, the essence or the spirit is viewed as somehow superior to the carnal basic earthy female element. When will u guys let go…give it up!

I would love to play the game of the image In the mirror, but on the condition u r willing to switch sides. Game?   

PURNIMA 


Jul 28, 2009, 1:23 PM

Dear Purnima,

Interesting comment about my feminine mirror image.  We have talked about this before, but I have always felt much more comfortable and willing to bear my soul to women.  Through the years I have had some wonderfully close friendships with women and on many fronts share a kindred spirit.  AND, I am often ashamed of my own sex for the stupidity and lack of sensitivity men often demonstrate in order to prove their « virility » and superiority.

I hadn’t considered « The Reader » to be a reflection of the pigmalion motif, although one could probably view it as such.  But there was no attempt or desire on his part to remold her and to make her into a more refined and cultured individual.  At the time he was, of course, enthralled with the sensual nature of their relationship.  She was a refuge for him from the stuffy nature of his family and school setting.  And while his education, even for a young man, was far more advanced than hers, I don’t think he really wanted to change her or make her into something more socially acceptable that would fit into his societal standing.  In fact, he was, at the time, completely unaware that she was illiterate.  They shared a common joy in reading great literature together, and were I in his shoes, I would never have questioned her motivation in wanting to listen to me read to her.  They shared both the pleasures of the mind and of the flesh and, as you point out, she played just as much an educating role as he did.  I actually think her position was the stronger of the two because she was operating in total lucidity as to their respective conditions, and it was really she who called most of the shots, whereas he was not completely aware of just who she was or the kind of baggage she was carrying around.  It wasn’t until the trial that he became aware of her illiteracy and her moral bankruptcy.  From that point on, his motivation for reading to her had completely changed, and I’m not sure that I can really put my finger on what that involved – a sense of shame, guilt, gratitude, love (he never really stopped loving her), pity ? ? ?

And as for the male/intellectual/superior vs the female/earthy/carnal dichotomy, there is much to discuss.  How can we be sure that such labels have not been imposed by the male dominated hierarchy over the centuries ?  Are such distinctions not simply intended to assure the male domination in society and to preserve his « rightful claim » to access to females AND at the same time their fidelity to him.  The abhorrent practice of genital mutilation, in my mind, has been conceived for just that purpose, and the clincher is that it is all couched in religious references that somehow justify such practices.

I’m always game !

Should we meet at the café in the museum around 9 :30 tomorrow morning ? 

Also, if I could pick up the inflatable mattress afterward that would be great.  We are having another house guest next week and with Celine, Vincent and Alexandra here, we are short on available beds.

A demain !

Roger


Dear Roger,

It was a pleasure as always to see you, to meet you and to speak to you. At some subliminal level, I do find between us a re-enactment of the Reader. I find myself compelled to read, to re-read in order to engage you. And of course there is always the unspoken unexpressed underlying sexuality…

See you soon!

Disclaimer : P

All persons, places, events are fictitious; all imputed relationships purely aspirational. There were no men harmed during the penning of the Feminist Manifesto.

Purnima Viswanathan

Geneva Diaries #2

Musee d’Ethnographie -Geneve

7/20/09

Bonsoir Purnima,

Excusez-moi de vous écrire si tard, mais nous avons regardé toute la soirée

l’investiture d’Obama.  C’est un moment historique:  Vous l’avez regardé ?

CNN has had live coverage of all the events since about 4:30 this afternoon.

We even ate in front of the TV to be able to catch it all.

I’ve checked out a few museums in Geneva, and there isn’t a big choice in

terms of special exhibits.  There is an exhibit on Egypt at the Musée d’art

et d’histoire, which isn’t far from you place.  It’s called Akhenaton et

Nefertiti: Soleil et ombres des pharaons

The other place that looks very interesting is the Musée d’art moderne et

contemporain with some interesting permanent collections of modern art.

The Maison Tavel is also a possibility.

Let me know what suits your fancy and we can either meet there or at your

place and walk to the museum.  All three of the above places are within

walking distance.

J’espère que vous passez une bonne soirée.  A demain,

Roger


Dear Roger,

I am not sure if you received my last (delayed) email regarding meeting up tomorrow. I would absolutely love to, but have family friends over for lunch not sure how long that will be, but late afternoon should work fine. Do let me know.

Believe it or not, the summer is turning out to be more hectic than I imagined with the me Home Alone with the kids who don’t give me a moment during the daylight hours if they can help it. And, I in all my enthusiasm have been trying to fill their summer days with more walks in the park , many talks, and museum trips.

Just yesterday we visited the Perseus and Medusa exhibit at the Musee d’Ethnographie. I was keen to show them this exhibit on African ritual masks as I thought it might stir the Picasso in my budding artists. The masks were hung around a dark room with strategically placed lights so that their shadows marked the wall behind them etching out fantastic designs and expressions. All very spooky, all very real. You could feel the drum beats of Africa. It was here that Dhruvum pointed out to me that the shadows were nothing like the original masks and sometimes eerily contrary(I am forever amazed at the world the kids see). The mask he pointed to appeared to have an oafish smile, however its shadow was the exact opposite…it had a sinister look, a fierce and fearsome frown.It appeared Alive and animated with one eye cut out larger than the other. The shadows appeared to be the real beings wearing these benign and sometimes comic masks as a front.I decided to continue in this very vein and keep up the interest of my tired and hot party, and managed to make it to the end of the exhibit. It was here that I suddenly saw an object almost physically jump off the shelf onto my lap. I called out theatrically for the kids to witness the spirits at play (knowing that it was probably the vibrations from their thundering feet) and Tara informed me that it was labelled  the Chiefs Staff. The closer I looked, It seemed to dance even more and I clearly saw it eyeball me. (It DID and so did the red gnome/fire hydrant on Florissant. btw I have identified the red gnome as an object from the Art and History Museum, 1st century BC, Alexandria, Guardian of the Valley. must show you). And then however much we jumped, to make it move, it stopped bouncing. I ran out as the joke was on me…so much for animation, I seemed to have spooked myself more than the kids. Have you visited Africa?

See below my fav Art and History Museum, Geneva:

By Sanyam Bahga – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=27722656

Since we happen to be in Geneva during this historic 500th year of Calvin, and Calvin is so tied to this city. I was keen to take the kids for the Calvin exhibits around town and thus introduce them and myself to Calvin. Well, Parc des Bastions which was supposed to host of of the more elaborate exhibits was shuttered, so I sat down on my computer trying once again to fully comprehend Calvin and translate it in my own words and into a language/idea that I understand and I can translate. If you remember, I was trying to do the same thing when we first met, and I looked to you to help me figure it out. But, at that point you were very SERIOUS about your French lessons, and were not entertaining many distractions. Well, how about now, would you have the time to guide?

I find myself fixated on the concept of predestination which I understand to be central to Calvin’s idea. The idea that somehow life is already mapped out, predetermined, and there is no heaven or hell. Also, nothing you do can change the path chosen for you and nobody can give you salvation. It is all designed by the eternal designer.(please correct me where you will). This follows so closely on our idea of Kismet or fate which I have heard over and over again through my life and against which I rebelled furiously. The very idea that we are merely going through the motions of what was planned for us with no hope of what I view as being personally able to make a difference! How hopeless, how futile it all sounds and how does one then within this idea do the right thing. Persuade our children to do the right thing. 

My paternal grand mother, who is now 94, the one that played a pivotal part in my upbringing, a part of my heart and soul, and for whom I keep running back to India has had this idea of Kismet, predestination at the core of her soul. Her life started in Madras, the eldest child of an old vibrant Tamil family, with her father as a great patron of the arts, supporting many an impoverished artist, a prominent lawyer and an integral part of the group that struggled for the freedom of India from the British Raj. A supporter of Sri Aurobindo, he finally gave up all his worldly possessions (including symbolically the clothes on his back) and retired to join Aurobindo’s Ashram in Pondicherry (an Indo-French enclave). He had 5 children and my grandmother saw all of them die in the prime of their youth with much to live for. Her greatest sorrow, the story she often repeated as I was growing up was of the loss of her brother Tyagarajan (Tiger) who joined the RAF and was shot over Normandy. With that we lost all ties to our roots, no home in the South. She saw so much glory, and she saw so much loss, the final blow being the loss of her youngest son, my father. However, she still continued to live proudly and elegantly, happy for what she had. Happy for all of us. The people she lost were good, kind and noble, who pushed themselves to take that extra step to do the correct thing in life, and they were gone. How would you explain the world to her. So, she always repeated Kismet, Kismet, Kismet. Somehow, it was designed to be, designed by the “Ultimate Reality, and no other explanation but that.

Today, since I play the role of mother and guide ( with my head buzzing with “tell them the moral of the story”, a vestige of my catholic school upbringing), I find myself telling them that this idea proposed by Calvin is also another point of view, another way of looking at the world. Something that that has an echo back home, (playing up a cultural connection is important for me). And in this view there is no heaven and hell and everything is predestined, predesigned. But in this predesigned world our existence is not merely passive, it is an alive and active one as we have a real and specific role to play. If we take life as a journey to be undertaken by each one of us, and if this is to be a hard and arduous journey(I often fall back on Buddha and his teachings),  with our fate already predetermined. Then, its our role and our duty to make this stop, this visit, this harbor as hospitable and comfortable as we can for our fellow human beings. Peoples lives may be mapped out and their salvation may not be in our hands, but we can certainly make a difference by giving comfort and solace to those that come to our shores that seek our shelter. You may not be able to change their path, but you can certainly provide a watering hole a resting spot. A sanctuary, a stop.

See below Cimeterie du Plainpalais – Calvin – Candolle et Moi:

What can I add, what do you think?

See you soon.

Purnima


Dear Roger,

I have to tell you more about the Chief’s Staff (from the Medusa and Perseus exhibit). As I had mentioned earlier, It was jumping about when I first saw it and shouting at me to wake up and sniff the cocoa beans. It was doing a furious dance as it demanded to know why I was attired in these strange clothes, and where I left the chiefs gear. Where were my tribal markings and the retinue of slaves and wives to fan and feed me! And who were these pesky dwarves that I have allowed to take control of me. Why are they such close proximity and how was I permitting them to tug at my clothes. Enough, enough, enough he shouted as he spun around and demanded I return to the World and my responsibilities.

Tell me Roger, do I have issues???

See below Musee d’Ethnographie Geneve:

https://www.ville-ge.ch/meg/

See attached African Masks and Hunting Spirit Staff from The De Young Museum San Francisco:

On Jul 24, 2009, at 10:47 PM, “Roger Stevenson”  wrote:

Dear Purnima,

Your visit of the Musée d’Ethnographie sounded fascinating and just a bit troubling.  It’s often amazing how one can identify in such a personal way with a particular piece of art –  your description of the Chief’s Staff is almost eerie.  I wouldn’t say you have issues, but are simply very much in tune with certain mysterious aspects of African art.  No, I have never visited Africa, with the exception of Egypt, which I love, by the way.  I’ve never had the chance to see other parts of that intriguing continent.

And where do I start on Calvin.  I have always abhorred any religious dogma that even smacks of predetermined outcomes.  The very fact that we are capable of making conscious decisions in our daily lives logically excludes, as far as I am concerned, any possibility that our fates are determined and laid out in advance by some higher, guiding power.  It’s really that age-old theological debate over free will and predestination.  Since I am very much an agnostic leaning heavily toward atheism, I can’t seriously entertain any religiously founded argument or explanation for my existence or for my « salvation »  Salvation from what ? ?

I think your  «The very idea that we are merely going through the motions of what was planned for us with no hope of what I view as being personally able to make a difference! How hopeless, how futile it all sounds and how does one then within this idea do the right thing. Persuade our children to do the right thing. »  sums up my own thinking very nicely.

In my life I have been strongly influenced by existential thinking from Kierkegaard to Camus and Sartre and de Beauvoir.  The key issue, as far as twentieth century, atheist existentialism is concerned, is lucidity : being constantly aware of one’s inherent condition, i.e. we live in a universe that is impossible to explain or understand.  There is no heaven or hell, indeed.  We are, or we become, what we make of ourselves through our decisions, through our actions.  There are, to be sure, various states of awareness, and many individuals do indeed make less than fully conscious decisions, and we are often influenced by unknown or little understood factors in our environment or from our past experiences.  The arguments of Freudian disciples concerning the role of the subconscious has been a fascinating dichotomy in existentialist thinking.

In short, my disdain for Calvin and his like has always been complete.  I have no interest even from a historical point of view to join the happy Genevois throngs in celebrating his 500th  year of influence.  And further more, he banned the production of plays in his little kingdom.  How could you ever respect or rever someone who hated the theatre ?

Weds. morning sounds great.  Would 9 :30 be too early for you ?  I would love to go to our favorite cafe at the Art and History museum.

Have a good weekend.

Je t’embrasse,

Roger

Disclaimer : P

All persons, places, events are fictitious; all imputed relationships purely aspirational. There were no men harmed during the penning of the Feminist Manifesto

Purnima Viswanathan 

Geneva Diaries #1

Roger’s Early Letters, The Indus Valley Civilization and an American Story

12/8/08

Dear Roger,

Thank you so much,I am sure its because of my very special french teacher! I hope I am able to keep it up.

I also eagerly look forward to meeting V and learning sushi from him. Thanks for contacting him with my request.

last but not the least, thank you for sending me Wallerstein’s article, many thoughts and much to discuss, all of which came tumbling out with tears as I was chopping onions for dinner( a new successful salad recipe) now being tested on you:

The world in the cusp of great change (as I mentioned during our last chat) or as W puts it the world at the brink of a great crisis…that is all I find I share with him, until I read him again.

The way I see it is not what kind of system works whether it be capitalism (which he prophesies is doomed) or whether its of any relevance if the system which is going to replace this one is better or worse, But that we need to delve into some very core issues which form the foundations of any system we try and hoist upon our people. The two core issues that are imperative to explore are-

1) How do we incentivize our fellow human beings? How do we excite and incentivize so that man is able to achieve his finest and able to perform his best thereby contributing positively not only to himself but also to his family and society as a whole. 

2)How do we gauge, assess performance or achievement? How do we assess productivity –

The current parameters appear to be the issue as they press for More, More, More. A ruthless unbridled drive to generate more, promote more and sell more and as we discussed during our last meeting, even if it means burning crops and pouring gallons of milk down the drain.

 I have heard many arguments about the cost and futility of transporting these surplus goods to hungry mouths across the globe rather than writing out a paycheck. But the factors that are not taken into consideration are the ones that alarm me. The very fact that there is such a grotesque over production must mean that somewhere in the process energy, fertilizers, water for irrigation and waste products have been utilized and generated. Not only is the overproduction and its consequent destruction vulgar but the impact on the environment of such continuous and mindless acts just to bump up the bottom line and demonstrate that the entity is a profit making outfit is where we appear to have steered off course.

So first and foremost, and in my opinion, these parameters which we have taken for granted need to be reevaluated from the perspective of state of the globe(stripped, contaminated and polluted and continuing at an exponential rate) and man today with an exploding population and consumption patterns that challenge any norm of sustainable growth.

Roger, you mustn’t misunderstand me. I am all for progress and development. I am all for art and luxury (I specify art because in most of its forms it does not conform to any code of economics). And, I believe in resources being expended for creating something exquisite just for its existence even if i never get near it in my lifetime. Because, we all need a dream and and we all need to dream. Whether it is a cowrie shell or a gold nugget, we need something to stir our imaginations to push ourselves, to strive for, to uplift our souls and spirits just for a moment. So, everytime the kids and I see a Ferrari, we cheer, like we would cheer a rock star.What a magnificent machine!

Now, roger, I now leave it to you to weave these various elements and make a beautiful shawl which can be worn.

See you tomorrow.

Goodnight!

Purnima


Bonsoir Purnima,

Excusez-moi de vous écrire si tard, mais nous avons regardé toute la soirée

l’investiture d’Obama.  C’est un moment historique:  Vous l’avez regardé ?

CNN has had live coverage of all the events since about 4:30 this afternoon.

We even ate in front of the TV to be able to catch it all.

I’ve checked out a few museums in Geneva, and there isn’t a big choice in

terms of special exhibits.  There is an exhibit on Egypt at the Musée d’art

et d’histoire, which isn’t far from you place.  It’s called Akhenaton et

Nefertiti: Soleil et ombres des pharaons

The other place that looks very interesting is the Musée d’art moderne et

contemporain with some interesting permanent collections of modern art.

The Maison Tavel is also a possibility.

Let me know what suits your fancy and we can either meet there or at your

place and walk to the museum.  All three of the above places are within

walking distance.

J’espère que vous passez une bonne soirée.  A demain,

Roger


Thank you Roger for indulging me once again, you have given me an opportunity to put my scrambled ramble down!

I don’t remember how our conversation meandered, but I do remember mentioning to you once that I was keenly involved with a museum project on the Indus Valley Civilization which was being spearheaded by the Global Heritage Foundation in Palo Alto and your EYES SPARKLED blue as the Indus…so I take the liberty to impose.

See below The Indus Valley Civilization:

https://www.britannica.com/topic/Indus-civilization

Some Images of The Indus Valley Civilization from The National Museum in New Delhi, India: The Dancing Girl, An Indus Seal, Poster of all the major ancient River Valley Civilizations, images of major cities like Harappa and Mohenjodaro.

My involvement with the Indus Project, a museum to be built, a story to be told about a thriving, technologically advanced and vibrant culture that goes back 5,000 years to the time of ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia, the cradle of civilization, was initiated a couple of years ago in Palo Alto. My imagination was stirred by a friend named “Kalpana” which in Sanskrit means imagination, who took me upon her wing for an incredible ride to a time and place far away back to the cradle of civilization, spinning a story of a time and place, a utopia of technological progress and town planning, an egalitarian settled society with proud empowered women, in the same lands watered by the Indus that would look back with envy at the people who settled here 5,000 ago. Presenting me with the exciting idea of involvement in a project that promised to somehow bridge the place I came from to our current home.  I met numerous times with the lady responsible for coordinating the museum effort and we enjoyed bouncing this would oughts ideas off each other ( I was probably viewed as an insistent pest urging them on, assisting from the periphery). In my continuing support for the project, I introduced a business partner who publishes a quarterly magazine with a focus on philanthropy as a supporting sponsor who agreed to carry an article on the Indus Museum Project. 

Kalpana: https://www.shabdkosh.com/dictionary/sanskrit-english/kalpanaa/kalpanaa-meaning-in-english

Kalpana Sounds like: https://youtu.be/BDiGbmPsC00

Pasted below is part of the information on the Indus Valley Civilization that I sent to the magazine hoping to elicit interest and gain publicity for the project . I felt that the Indus story must be more than just a compilation of facts, which is essential, but that initially it is more pertinent to have a storyline that connects it to the community it looks to for support.

As this was an area and subject close to my heart, I felt passionately involved, as though this were my very own museum, my project, my story. I have subsequently and as recently as a few days ago, here in Geneva, added additional thoughts to the core idea broadening its scope as we journey onwards.

The following were broad points covering the highlights of the Indus Valley Civilization for the article to be substantiated by detailed facts. It also provided the broad storyline mentioned above that would connect with the community it was looking towards for support:

Unique city planning – the most advanced drainage systems in the then known world

Egalitarian society – with no structured hierarchy

Script – not yet deciphered – mystery to be unraveled

Technology– Carnelian (?) beads – firing and drilling technology at it’s best. Standardization of weights and measures.

Commerce – Actively traded goods with Mesopotamia likely used Indus seals. The Unicorn seal being the most prominent- Myth of the unicorn arose from the Indus – Little known fact 😉

Position of women: Elevated position in society. Figurines of mother goddess, female hunter on seal, images of proud women with majestic headgear.(recently added)

As i encountered the Indus project in Palo Alto, I was exhilarated, thinking I have finally found my space.For journeying to America we had continued our journey eastwards, to India, the the New India of all our dreams! i could finally put my own journey with my children and my family and weave it into the fabric of America, the Story of America.

A story that goes back to the cradle of civilization, the story of the Indus: an exciting story, an untold story, an undeciphered story!

The story of an incredible people stretched over a vast area which developed a highly sophisticated and efficient system which offered their inhabitants safety, security, clean and effective public amenities like running water drainage, well planned streets and residences, public baths and granaries, standardization of weights and measures for facilitating trade and commerce. The average man’s life appears secure and prosperous with little radical distinctions between the people which would be the envy of people currently inhabiting those lands, today,5,000 years later.

This very story of the Indus must have travelled far and wide in the ancient world, exciting the minds and imaginations of peoples in the far recesses of the world, still living a semi nomadic life, which propelled the subsequent journeys onto these fertile plains. And with every journey, the waves of people from all the various tribes that made it to these plains absorbed and assimilated enriching the land with their culture and mythology and left behind the next layer of gold dust.

As we uncover the various layers that line the banks of the Indus we find, Indus seals, covered by aryan burial mounds, covered by Stupas and symbols of their buddhist past, which adds to its golden glow. As we unravel these layers of sediment that line the Indus valley we find many journeys,  some invasions. However brutal the initial impact of their arrival upon the plains  but we find primarily a people journeying to settle and embrace.

The eternal story being of the dream that propels the journey, the many layers, the varied hues, the invasions the assimilations, the contributions, all adding to the layers of gold dust and the story that is India…the journey continues. 

A LONG TALE!

I doubt if you have made it this far, I can’t imagine you would have the patience to read but I certainly enjoyed telling.

Hope you feel better, see you soon.

Hugs

Purnima


From: Roger Stevenson

Date: Sun, Feb 1, 2009 at 8:10 PM

Subject: The Indus Nirvana

Hi Purnima,

Thanks so much for your piece on the Indus Valley project.  Sorry to be so long in getting back to you about it, but I’m still not feeling great.

It was fascinating feeling your enthusiasm and lyricism as I read through your email.  As with everything you seem to do in life, with the possible exception of French homework, you dive headlong into your pursuit of a goal, a dream, a mystery, an ideal, a utopia.  That was the primary pleasure.  The second was discovering so many previously unknown aspects about the Indus civilization:  I had always thought the myth of the unicorn came from Eastern European origins, and a society where women are revered and looked up to and enjoy full equality ! ! !.

I am somewhat intrigued by your motif of the bridge and the movement to the space, place where those ideals can flourish, and in one sense find it both totally appropriate and utterly outrageous that California might represent a reincarnation of the Indus dream.  That’s something we will have to have a long talk about.  On so many levels, Southern California, in spite of its natural, physical beauty and its magnate-like ability to draw creative minds, is the very antithesis of intelligent, environmental city planning.  The economic inequalities that abound in Southern California are heightened by the tremendous resources that the so-called creative sector produces, and only serve to widen the gap between those who live on the hill in their ghastly oversized mansions and those who populate the service sector as their maids, gardeners, fruit pickers, construction workers, etc.  By the way, did you see the film Babel ?

Anyway, a lot to discuss, including, when chasing the utopian dream, how does one deal with those pesky little details like human nature (Marx’s one serious shortcoming, in my estimation), ethnic and racial equality, deviants who don’t want to go along with the established system, corruption and crime, external pressure and threat which more often than not leads to war, etc.

J’espère que vous avez passé un bon week-end.  Est-ce que vous êtes sortis ce week-end ? 

A mercredi, j’espère,

Roger


Dear Roger,

As you know, I have been at a loose end, wondering what I should be doing next, how to reinvent myself at this phase and stage of life…especially here in Geneva!

Well, what do you think of the pursuit of a multi-disciplinary masters degree program. Apparently, the University of Geneva is considering offering such a degree.

I have always been interested in the multi-disciplinary study of law, as I believe that Law and Literature, Law and Theatre in combination with the sciences, technology and other subjects would make a fascinating advanced study. Not only would that be of value to senior attorneys who wish to get upto speed on a broad spectrum of todays relevant issues but for judges and other members of the judiciary, who as we have discussed are completely “out of it”.

Also, don’t you think, that literature and theatre would be a wonderful way to convey pivotal legal issues and core values that form the substratum of our laws to the general public for purposes of education and reaffirmation, a form of a modern day referendum. There is much of what a lot of people take for granted but are unable to explain or convey to the next generation, to the public, to the jury. And, do you not feel that we are at incredible crossroads with science, technology, law and literature and someone needs to put it all together for JOE???

I know I am trying to make a persuasive case to embark upon yet another course of study, but here I see incredible value. Would LOVE your feedback.


3/30/09

Dear Purnima,

Your imagination has certainly been active.  I actually quite like the idea of combining law and literature, with a touch of science and technology thrown in, for an interdisciplinary degree.  It’s something that not many folks will have thought of doing.  You are dead right that not just the general public, but those sitting in places of authority, be it the bench or in public office, are often so terribly out of touch with reality.

On the practical side, you would have to be very sure, and from the beginning, that the U of Geneva would have the faculty and the curricular structure to support such a degree program.  That can often be a sticking point.  Have you contacted anyone there yet?

Another question that comes to mind is how you would envision incorporating literature, especially the theatre into any kind of program of study and then eventually in efforts to enlighten the public and/or judges?  Would you use existing plays and adaptations or would you produce original material?  There is always a certain risk in writing plays that are didactic in nature.  Berthold Brecht comes to mind.  His plays have a very heavy-handed political message and point of view that, in my opinion, distracts from any artistic value they might have.

On this end I have been quite occupied with thoughts about time, its relentless passing, and how it structures our lives.  I think our musings about a virtual reality where time and space would be reordered and altered have caused me to dream.  Wouldn’t it indeed be wonderful to be able to escape the effects of time and exist anywhere and anytime we chose?

Speaking of time, tomorrow at this time we’ll be winging our way towards the “land of the rising sun.”  Isn’t it interesting how former empires are so taken with the sun, what with the British and their notion that the sun never sets on the British Empire? 

More later from Tokyo,

Roger


6/16/09

Dear Purnima,

You so aptly characterized that period in the US.  It was the time in my life where I was a graduate student, learning to see the world through different sets of eyes, loosing that sense of innocence I had about existence and understanding that all the Kool Aid, Hotdogs, Baseball, Fast Cars, Jeans, Ketchup, Marilyn Monroe, Bubble-gum,  were just the flashy, surface, easily recognizable and oft-imitated facade of America. I also discovered little by little that there was a dark underside to this nation I had been taught to believe had some kind of manifest destiny.  My trip down that road to a more acute awareness took many turns and detours.  I still remember how devastated I was when John F. Kennedy was shot.  It was such an unthinkable act and it left a rather large hole in my bubble of hope and optimism.  But then the assassinations continued : ironically, I was living in France in 1968 and was traveling when both Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy were felled by the assassin’s bullet.  I was in Spain when I heard on my transistor radio (my constant companion then as now) that Martin Luther King had been shot and in Greece when Kennedy, who had been my hope for some sanity in the presidential election campaign, was shot in California.  I have vivid memories of walking around Athens that day with my transistor to my ear listening for reports about his condition, and more than one Greek person realized why I was so glued to the radio and asked me about him.  I also remember going to the American Embassy that night to sign a book of remembrance and express my grief about yet another senseless, dream-shattering act.  And then there was Richard Nixon !

The next major crossroad was my eventual disillusion with a nation waging what I came to understand as an immoral and unjustified war in Southeast Asia.  I was a graduate student at the University of Washington in Seattle when the campus protests against the war spread throughout the country, and I heard many a fiery speech denouncing America’s involvement and I willingly joined in many campus marches and demonstrations.  The shootings by the National Guard at Kent State are firmly etched in my mind.

And once settled in a small university town in Southern Oregon, I saw more of Americana in action, from the Hippy movement to the Rajnishi’s to Haight Ashbury in San Francisco to the Berkeley Free Speech demonstrations – I used to listen to a talk station from San Francisco all the time, KGO, which I could pick up very easily at night in Southern Oregon, and I do indeed recall the discussions about Harvey Milk when he was killed.

No time to go into any more detail, but the lesson I learned from all of this was that for many people in America a gun and violent acts were almost always the preferred solution to anything they disagreed with.  That and the superficial, crass materialism, the self-centered disinterest in the rest of the world so prevalent in the States have played a primary role in my choice to live in France.  I’m sad that I wasn’t in California when you came looking for me, but you caught up with me in Geneva.

Don’t get me wrong, there are still a myriad of wonderful, unforgettable, inimitable and treasured aspects of America that are all part and parcel of who I am and how I conceive my birthplace : tough individualism, generosity, my Danish grandmother, skiing in the Rocky Mountains, the great films Hollywood gave us, Redwood forests on the Pacific Coast, Sunrise over Crater Lake, Tom Robbins, John Irvine, Harper Lee, Toni Morrison, a cold glass of milk with chocolat chip cookies, and, of course, Miles Davis, Chet Baker, Gerry Mulligan, Keith Jarrett, Mose Alison, Nina Simone, Thelonius Monk, John Coletrane, Cal Tjader . . . . .

Sweet dreams,

Roger


6/24/09

Roger Stevenson

Hi Purnima,

Fascinating how we got from Harvey to the actual liquid.  For me, drinking a cold glass of milk was as common and everyday as tying your shoes in the morning.  The elementary school I went to even had a program where every morning each child got a small carton of either milk or chocolate milk   Later on, we had milk delivered in half-gallon glass bottles to our front door every other morning by the local Milk Man.  In the winter the milk often froze and the expansion pushed the cap off and there was a little column of frozen milk protuding from the top of the bottle when we got home in the evening.  I also remember my first summer spent in France (1967).  At that time, fresh milk wasn’t readily available in France, it wasn’t kept in refrigerated space in the stores, and it always had a slightly sour taste.  We did a quick trip to Switzerland that summer and the Swiss had wonderful, fresh milk and I had a tall glass of it in the Bern train station.  It was heaven.

But the sad part of all of this was that when I was young and growing up on fresh milk, I was totally in the dark as to the conditions that existed in the rest of the world.  I just took it for granted that children all over the world had access to milk and all the other things that I enjoyed without even thinking much about it.  I, and most other Americans, lived in total and insouciant ignorance of how fortunate we were.  Your description of milk and its scarcity in India and what you had to go through to get even small quantities was heart wrenching, and I understand better now why the beacon of economic prosperity that shown forth from our shores was such a strong attraction for so many, my own grandparents on both sides included.

But that prosperity that has attracted so many to America also has its down side.  It is based on an economic system that plunders the raw materials of the rest of the world in the maddening frenzy to expand, to produce, to grow, to acquire.  The result has been a totally unjust and unequal distribution of wealth and goods between the North and the South.  The poorer countries whose natural resources were gobbled up and exploited by huge corporate conglomerates, were left with very little, while those of us who were fortunate enough to live in the North enjoyed increasingly empty lives amassing our plastic possessions thrust upon us by slick marketing campaigns.  We all had our shinny new cars in our surburban three-car garage (the third space filled by our camping car), our garbage disposals, dish washers, electric tooth brushes, golf carts, Cuisinarts, Tupperware, sprinkling systems to water our manicured lawns, hot tubs and jacuzzis, etc., etc., etc. ad infinitum.  And when the developing countries demand the same standard of living, we all shout, but that’s impossible, the world doesn’t have the resources nor the carrying capacity for all of you to enjoy the same kind of lives that we live.  Sorry, but you just didn’t have the ingenuity and the drive (or the ruthlessness) to accomplish what we have done, and besides, just think of all the pollution that would be produced if you all had two or three cars and super highways to drive them on.. .   To be continued.

Aren’t you leaving very soon for India with your mother ?  Have a wonderful, successful trip.  I’ll be looking forward to hearing all about it when you return.

A bientot,

Roger


Dear Roger,

Unimaginable, intense, oppressive…44 degrees celsius!!!

Surreal…

Somehow, whenever I am transported to this space I think of u.

I find myself locked up in a cool ac room with family (which is great as I have them captive) as no one dares to venture out in the searing sun. So we chat and eat and laugh and tease all within this space. And, i move from one enclosed space to another from my brother to my grand mother and back.

Geneva with its crystal lakes, cool blue skies and green meadows seems to be the delusion. A incredible illusion.

I find myself revisiting the last scene in Geneva, the famous one about time and trains. I am  waiting for train number 1 at Gare Cornavin with Dhruvum who with his hyperactive 10 year old mind keeps looking at the clock on the ceiling reading the time to me on a second to second basis as time seems to stretch infinitely when viewed from his perspective. We finally embark the train as it proceeds to leave the station and find ourselves staring at a train that appears to be pulling out in the opposite direction on the other side. It is then that Dhruvum asks The Questions: Is that train moving? Are we moving? How do we know? …It was just incredible  as I first let it sink in that I was on a train IN Switzerland being asked these very same questions that I had been posed to me so many times except when it was my turn to respond somehow I was transported to the scene of the original action! Surreal!  These are scenes that I have played in my mind over and over again and for so many years and I find them being played out in reality and now at 44 ABOVE. I have time to mull.

As I write, I see the skies darkening…perhaps we will all be rescued by the monsoons soon.

See u back in Switzerland.

Lots of love

Purnima


7/01/09

Dear Purnima,

44 is indeed oppressive and surreal.  It brings back a flood of memories of two sweltering and sensuous summers in the desert of Arizona (Phoenix).  45 was the highest it hit, but one spent the time moving from one air-conditioned space to another, from house to car to supermarket back to car to any available pool and any biking was done at 6:00 am before the energy-draining rays became unbearable.  The city itself literally had no soul to it, as the sidewalks were barren and deserted.  The only respite was to drive to Sedona where the higher altitude brought such blessed relief.  That’s a chapter in my life I’ll have to tell you about someday.

The Helvetia illusion/delusion has been somewhat tainted by much higher temps and thick smog the past three days.  It has been 30+ with little wind and the valley has filled with a haze that is reminiscent of Los Angeles smog.

Your train sequence and Dhruvum’s questions fascinate me.  It is one that I have often asked: how do we know which train is moving.  It’s like the proverbial philosophical question about the tree falling in the forest and whether there is any sound if there is nobody to hear it.  Woody Allen dealt with trains in a slightly different way in his Bergmanesque “Stardust Memories”, only there it was the recurring scene of Allen on a train as it passed another train going in the opposite direction, and in this case the other train was filled with merry-making and frivolous party goers, while Allen’s train was empty and lifeless and dull.  He has a new film out now, by the way, that has gotten excellent reviews in France – “Whatever Works”

Strange that your being in India draws your thoughts my way.  I had the very same experience in Japan.  We were obviously meant to travel.  Too bad it has always been in opposite directions.

Don’t stop !

When are you returning ?

Gros, gros bisous,

Roger

PURNIMA VISWANATHAN 

Disclaimer : P

All persons, places, events are fictitious; all imputed relationships purely aspirational. There were no men harmed during the penning of the Feminist Manifesto

Geneva Diaries #67*

A Dedication, Wheatley, Mirko, Divorce Anniversary

3/21/15

Re sending A dedication- March 21st, 2015!

Dear Roger, sorry for the numerous emails but I’m resending with the correct anniversary date. In all my passion and fury I mixed up the date!

Dear Roger,

You are my friend and confidant, and at this point, I need you more than ever as I approach the fourth wedding anniversary post divorce. The pain hasn’t dulled, it’s still excruciating. Every time I get an email from my EX, I feel like committing Harakiri, piercing a cold knife deep into my gut and letting my intestines spill out!!! There seems to just be no way out…So in order to relieve my symptoms I have found just the song to dedicate to Mirko on this 4th anniversary. Do see clip below, the words are so apt and seem to flow straight from me:

Ending Song Portal 2

This is the ending song of the brilliant and very popular video game Portal 2, where even though I played as Chell the protagonist, this ending song by GLaDOS, an AI homocidal computer completely encapsulates all my feelings. It’s brilliant, I could not have said it better.

The final 30 seconds of the video game show Wheatley (oh so like Mirko), a personalty robot, who goes through a transformation and become a megalomaniac, defeated and flung out of the game into deep dark space. He then has time to reflect and apologizes to Chell (me of course). This is the stuff dreams are made of, ultimate revenge!

I know you will chuckle as you watch a remorseful Wheatley/ Mirko floating in deep dark space in the clip below:

Portal 2 – Wheatley Apologizes While Stuck in Space

Will chat with you when Im in Sf. Hugs to the family!

Hugs

Purnima

PS: See below a letter from an angry wife in 313 AD at The National Museum New Delhi, India. This feisty Zoroastrian lady who was taken to Dunhuang China by her merchant husband and abandoned there has some fierce reprimands for her husband written out in legible text for us all to view 1700 years later. Despite the passage of two millennia, I still see the faces of my Zoroastrian (Parsi) girlfriends wielding the fiery pen and giving it all they’ve got lol!


Roger Stevenson Wed, Mar 11, 2015,

Dear Purnima,

I’m so sorry that you are still plagued by the painful memories of your divorce. It is one of the most emotionally distressing experiences I think people go through.  I can just imagine him writing to you and twisting the knife just a little bit with his acerbic comments. I will never forget the horrible way he spoke to you the day we were all waiting in the airport in Barcelona for our baggage to arrive. The ending song on Portal 2 is indeed so totally appropriate: “I just want you to be gone”  !!!!!   It’s too bad you can’t convert him into a video game figure of your imagination à la Wheatley and send him reeling out into the foreboding realms of outer darkness from which there will never be a return.

Have a wonderful trip to California. We won’t be back in Ojai until the 27th, but it would be wonderful to chat while you are in San Francisco. Do you still have my cell-phone number ?  

Take care and stay positive. Your trip should help in that department.

Love,

Roger

Roger Stevenson

Disclaimer : p

All persons, places, events are fictitious; all imputed relationships purely aspirational. There were no men harmed during the penning of the Feminist Manifesto.

PURNIMA VISWANATHAN

Geneva Diaries #64*

Kadambari, Kashmir, Hamlet, Haider

On Sat, Jan 31, 2015, Roger Stevenson wrote:

Dear Purnima,

That’s great that you are going to do another trip to California via Geneva,

but your choice of dates is terrible as far as getting together in the Bay

Area. We are going to Paris in March and will be there during those dates.

We leave here the 12th and return on the 27th via Iceland. You aren’t going

to change planes or have a brief layover in Paris on your way to California

are you? It would be fun to reconnect there if that is possible.

We are going over to hit the annual Paris Book Fair, and Annick has an

appointment with the publisher that published her book about the

mistress/muse of Jean Giono. She’s hoping that they will do a new issue with

new information that has now been made public about her influence on the

writer. She also has another book project in the works that she wants to

discuss with them. It will also be fun to catch up on a bit of French

culture while we are there, not to mention the great baguettes and

croissants that are somewhat hard to find in California. I’m looking forward

to the trip. We are coming back on Icelandair and are doing a two-day

layover in Reykjavik, which should be fun. I’ve always wanted to visit that

icy, barren island. I just hope it isn’t too terribly cold there at the end

of March.

What is your itinerary after the 26th? Any other times or places where we

could meet?

Are you going to return to Chamonix and get some skiing in while you are in

Geneva? They just got a ton of new snow in the French Alps. I did hear,

however, that the Russians have pretty much stopped coming to France to ski

this winter because of the fall of the value of the Ruble and the terrible

economic situation in Russia. It has had some terrible consequences for the

skiing industry in France, especially in places like Megève and Courchevel.

Did you see Obama while he was in India? Too bad he had to cut his Indian

visit short to attend the funeral for King Abdullah in Saudi Arabia.

Love and hugs,

Roger

Roger Stevenson


Dear Roger,

It’s great to get all your news, and your trip back to Paris sounds wonderful. I would love to meet you and Annick, is it possible for you to swing by The Bay Area/SF on March 27/28 before heading back to Southern California as my plans have been shifted out by a couple of days?

Unlike you Roger, i have been pretty much based here in Delhi since my return from Goa early January, but I have had some interesting guests to keep me company, artists, bankers and lawyers from across the globe Singapore/UK/East Africa, Calcutta (yes that is somewhere between here and the moon), an American in Delhi and even even a close college buddy from Hong kong and thus many hours of stimulating dinnertime conversation which inevitably veered back to the Alps.

I have also spent this very quiet introspective time catching up on movies and books. The One Who Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest left me awake all night with its eery connect, how the fiery independent Jack Nicholson battles the system to retain his self expression and is finally lobotomized as the system which can’t handle him, extinguishes that “self” which he strives to retain. 

See Below – One Who Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest

See trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2WSyJgydTsA

I then watched a brilliant Indian Movie called Haider, an Indian adaptation of Hamlet set in Kashmir bringing alive the picturesque landscape, the local Kashmiri dress, culture customs, homes, buildings. But most of all providing an insight into the tragedy that faces its people being torn apart by two dominant states, India and Pakistan.

See Haider, Indian movie Trailer:https://youtu.be/ZmN_VSo8DOo

See below a video essay on the Indian movie Haider- A Shakespearean Disruption:https://youtu.be/Alnz3MkMvQ4

The Indian army presence, the presence of the Pakistani trained and sympathetic terrorist organizations, the oppressive restrictions upon its people by the special orders act of the Indian government are all brought out in this very realistic family drama of a woman who marries her husbands brother within a few weeks of his disappearance, the obsessive love of the mother for the son, and of the son for the mother who cannot accept this union with his uncle, and feigns madness in order to exact revenge. This Indian version of Shakespeare’s Hamlet with Kashmir and the Martand Sun Temple as it’s backdrop, where Haider (Hamlet) enacts out the details of his fathers murder showcases traditional Kashmiri culture in song, dance, dress and setting is beautifully performed see link below: 

See below a clip from the film Haider : Bismil(Scene of the Enactment of the Play – Play within the Play)https://youtu.be/p6ZxI5_A69M

See Hamlet – The Play within The play:

I revisit my fav theme – The Temples of The Sun. See below the setting for Bismil: The Martand Sun Temple – Kashmir

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martand_Sun_Temple

And the Huff Post article on the sad state of neglect of this Kashmiri heritage site:

https://www.huffingtonpost.in/sameer-mushtaq/martand-sun-temple-obscur_b_7837522.html

My father Vijay Viswanathan’s eternal fascination with The Temples of The Sun at The Martand Sun Temple in Kashmir in pic below:

Vijay Viswanathan at The Temple of The Sun- The Martand Sun Temple, Kashmir

Haider, or the Indian Hamlet is essentially the material of a social commentary, a documentary, on the plight of the Kashmiris, woven into mainstream cinema and has received rave reviews and many rewards. It made me proud of the fact that such freedom of expression still exists India, that such a sensitive subject could be retold in such a massive public forum, commercial cinema. I give it a two thumbs up for weaving together so many facets, primarily taking on the highly contentious and sensitive issue of Kashmir, and i give the Indian censor board two thumbs up for passing the film with minimal damage. However, I must admit, even though this film has covered the tragedy of Kashmir, it has left out one of its most tragic and poignant victims, the Kashmiri Pandits, the Hindus from Kashmir who called that piece of heaven their home and are intrinsically a part of that picture but had to flee and live as refugees in hovels, temporary tenements in crowded, polluted and aggressive Delhi. These people still lie languishing, being refugees in their own country, and no one seems to remember their voice.

Whenever I think of Kashmir, I think of my father. He spent his youth traversing the Himalayas, for sport, for game. He knew Kashmiri culture intimately, and would often discuss its distinctiveness. The Kashmiri pandits loved him, and right out of university, they gave him his first job. When we travelled to Kashmir with him as children, before the tragedy and turmoil, we were escorted around Kashmir by a Kashmiri army captain, a muslim, who seemed to admire my father as much as the pundits did. He listened in rapt attention as my father discussed the history of the State, its topography, wild life and its customs almost hushing us kids up so we would not disturb my fathers dialogue. He then invited us to his home and my father read the perso-arabic script at the top of his doorway, and I think he clapped with joy, a couplet from the Koran. My father’s Urdu was impeccable, can’t say the same about his Tamil, I then realized the Kashmiris whether they be Hindu or Muslim share an aesthetic sensibility, they like things of beauty. In the above clip, for the first time in a Hindi movie, I could actually see my father in the role of the performer. He was always accused by my mother of being an “Angrez”, a foreigner, westerner, Englishman, her common refrain was that the English left, but they left you behind. But in my eyes I saw that he embraced the Kashmiri culture so much, that I could see him dressed up like Shahid Kapoor  in the above song Bismil from Haider and dance those very masculine steps. 

See below a photo of my father Vijay Viswanathan in Kashmir (there is just no way of editing out the cigarette as it so belongs to that time):

Vijay Kumar Viswanathan in Kashmir

But the main reason this movie brings me back to my father, is Hamlet. The last words out of my fathers mouth after the doctors had butchered him, cutting away his body parts, as the cancer spread across his frame, and subjecting him to radiation and chemotherapy in its most rudimentary and barbaric form leaving his skin charred and body reduced to bones. My father all of 48 years, looking at his dependent wife and young children struggled between life and succumbing to death. A death he yearned for, to release him and a life he could not let go. He quoted Hamlet:

“To be, or not to be: that is the question:

Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;

A snapshot from his time – Olivier’s Hamlet film (1948): To Be Or Not To Be soliloquy:

And sleep he did. But in a remote corner of The English Garden there blossoms a Kashmiri rose, a Kashmiri rose colored with his blood. This leads me to the story of Kadambari, (in our version) an Indo-French English story. A Sanskrit classic, a magnificent novel, a story that must be told. But for that you will have to promise me a thousand and one nights for when one reads Kadambari even food is forgotten (Kadambari Rasajnaanaam aahaaropi rochate)!

Kadambari, apart from being my aunts name (father’s sister), is a love story by Banabhatta, who was a great poet and 7th century Sanskrit scholar. Banabhatta weaves an incredible tapestry of tales of men, birds and beasts, demi gods and sages, in a multi-dimensional ever morphing time perspective that will take your breath away and make modern Anime appear mundane. Ironically this supposed world’s first novel and phenomenal work was no where to be seen at the Bodmer Foundation, this library/museum of antique books and manuscripts in Geneva (as mentioned earlier) where merely a panel was devoted to Persian literature and a dark nook for all of Indian/ Sanskrit literature. This glaring inadequacy has to be addressed Roger, and I know you are the one to do it. If I were to introduce myself as a Vedic Aryan to a European, i assure you it would draw a blank. In fact, It might invoke some convoluted images in their minds based on their historical baggage but it will not get them closer to me or Kadambari, and I do think that would be a pity, don’t you? Do you not think these museums that hold themselves out as repositories of world culture and antiquity, and devote nothing to Sanskrit and Persian literature are doing their youth, their people a grave wrong? Do they not wield a responsibility to educate their youth about the globe beyond their European borders? Do see if you can get your hands on Banabhatta’s Kadambari, while I weave out my version. 

Kadambari: https://enacademic.com/dic.nsf/enwiki/3740767

Check out The Foundation Bodmer: http://fondationbodmer.ch/musee/

A part of my family storywhen Kanya Kumari marries Kashmir. See below a pic of my aunt Kadambari in an Indian saree – an image worth ten thousand words:

Kadambari

A young Kadambari with Thatcher (an image from her husband M.K.Rasgotra’s book – A Life in Diplomacy. A part of our family story of when Kanya Kumari marries Kashmir):

https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/30075037-a-life-in-diplomacy

An Epic Tale of Two Nations – Kadambari with Thatcher

Images of Kashmir – see attached image of an American Girl Doll (yes let’s expand the narrative) my daughter Tara, a Kashmiri rose in traditional Kashmiri dress below:

Tara in Kashmir

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/destinations/asia/india/9666253/Kashmir-an-open-door-to-careful-travellers.html

PS: 

Since we had started with Hamlet, I would like to end with the Hindi movie Haider which I repeat is a brilliantly staged interpretation of Hamlet showcasing the politics of Kashmir and share some Hindustani (Hindi/Urdu) words as French seems to have completely evaporated from my memory.

I would like to share my favorite dialogue from the movie:

Intiqam Se Sirf Intiqam Paida Hota Hai.

Jab Tak Ham Apne Intiqam Se Azad Nahi Ho Jaty, Tab Tak Koi Aazadi Hamein Azad Nahi Kar Sakti.

Which translates as: Revenge only breeds revenge. Till you are not free from your vengeance, no freedom can free you.

Intiqam is the main theme of the play/movie.

The first word is Intiqam or revenge taken from UChicago South Asian Digital Dictionary:

تقام intiḳām

A (inf. viii. of نقم Heb. He took revenge) s. m. Revenge, retaliation. انتقام لینا intiḳām lenā, To take revenge, to revenge.

(Roger, is Intiqam also a Hebrew word?)

The second word is Shahid, or martyr. 

Most online dictionaries define this as a muslim martyr, and often have many negative connotations attributed. This shocks me as in Hindustani Shahid is a honorific, and both Hindus, Sikhs and muslims use the word to connote someone who has sacrificed himself or herself for a humane and noble cause. For me Shahid will always be associated with the brave and noble Indian revolutionary Shahid Bhagat Singh, a punjabi Sikh, who fought for Indian independence against The British Raj and sacrificed his life for the same. 

The story of Shahid Bhagat Singh has a special resonance as my great grandfather S.Doraiswami Iyer, a prominent Madras lawyer, a part of Sri Aurobindo core circle in Pondicherry, supported the revolutionary cause from the South(Indian independence from British colonial rule) with mind, body and spirit, funds to the revolutionaries.

See below a clip from a Hindi movie portraying the hanging of Shahid Bhagat Singh whose last words were “long live the revolution”:https://youtu.be/cNLYU6eEpOg

The Story of Shahid Bhagat Singh

From The Bollywood movie The Legend of Bhagat Singh:https://youtu.be/kejePSUe65c

Interestingly enough the main character in the movie Haider born of a Hindu Punjabi father is named Shahid Kapur, and like Hamlet who sacrifices himself for a noble cause (avenging the death of his father) is aptly named.

See below definition of Shahid from The Digital South Asian Dictionary:

شہيد shahīd

A (from شہد) s. A witness; a mar- tyr (any Mohammedan killed in battle is so called). adj. Killed. شہيدهونا shahīd honā, 1. To be killed. 2. To fall in love. (Pers. plur. شہيدان).

Love and hugs to you and the whole family. 

Love,

Purnima

PURNIMA VISWANATHAN

Disclaimer 😛

All persons, places, events are fictitious; all imputed relationships purely aspirational. There were no men harmed during the penning of the Feminist Manifesto

Geneva Diaries #63*

Randomness, Yoko Ono, Chess

Sat, Feb 28, 2015, 8:25 PM

Dear Purnima,

Please excuse my tardiness in getting back to you about your trip to the

States. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to stop in SFO on our way back

from France, but it doesn’t look like it will be possible.  We have booked a

one-way flight back to LA from Paris on Icelandair and we land in Seattle

and then fly to LAX on Air Alaska, and there is no way that we can change

our tickets to stop over in San Francisco.  Drats ! It would have been so

delightful to see you in that beautiful city, but the timing is just not

right this year.

Do you have plans for any other trips to the States in the future? Let’s

keep thinking about dates and times that would work for us to see you again.

You seem so far away, and it would be a delight to reconnect again.

I’ve been watching an absolutely delicious series from the American TV

channel Showtime.  It’s called “The Affair” and recounts in a very

interesting narrative way the summer fling that a married professor/writer

has with a young, also married woman in a resort town in New England. The

woman in the affair is played by Ruth Wilson, a British actress whom I

really love. She played in the BBC series called “Luther” and this is one of

her first roles for American TV. She won a Golden Globe for her role in “The

Affair”. The professor is faced with such gut-wrenching decisions about

following his muse-like love for the young woman and on the other hand his

marriage and his four children. It’s clearly the kind of situation where one

feels like they are truly between a rock and a hard place. In one scene in

the next-to-last episode, his father-in-law tells him about an affair he had

with one of his own students when he was younger. The son-in-law asks his

father-in-law, who is now a famous writer and into his late 60s, if he ever

thinks about the young woman. His answer just floors me: “Every f…..ing

day!”

We are also hosting a young Japanese student for a week.  We picked him up

at the airport this afternoon, and he is really delightful. Tomorrow is

Farmer’s market day and dinner at home in the evening.

We also saw a delightful and wonderfully done play in Santa Barbara a couple

of weeks ago: “Intimate Apparel” about a black seamstress in the New York of

1905 when nearly everyone in the city was an immigrant or former slave. It

was really touching and so well acted.

I’ll write again in a few days with my reaction to your other email. If

there is installment number 2 waiting in cyberspace someplace, I can’t wait

to read it.

(Personal tidbit)

Voilà. Maintenant, tu sais tout!

I just wanted you to know how much I value you as a friend. I feel that I

can share anything with you, and have told you things that I haven’t told

anyone else. That is very special to me.

Take care and have a wonderful trip to the States. I’ll call you when we get

back from France and before you leave to return to India. At least we can

touch bases via AT&T.

Lots of love and hugs,

Roger


3/11/15 

Randomness Yoko Ono

Dear Roger,

I’m glad to get your mail with all your news, but am very disappointed that despite being almost next door, we will miss each other. I really do hope we can coordinate to meet sometime soon, it would be wonderful to see you. You had mentioned in your mail how you value me as a friend, and feel you can share everything. That makes me feel very special Roger, thank you for being there for me as a guide, mentor and friend. One who has passed through the tortuous routes my life seems to be taking, and can comfort and advise me through my journey.I often find myself having conversations with you in my mind both when I am faced with life’s complexities and when I have a juicy tidbit to share (oh so much more on that Tidbit!). I often have to anticipate your response, for have now become my imaginary friend, and continue our conversation through museum exhibits, plays, books and personas that cross my path. Often we laugh together, but it’s reassuring that somewhere across cyberspace you do exist and share a chuckle with me in real time.

Alexandra has a lot on her plate already with the move to a new country and settling in. However, she seems to be taking it well, I am happy for her. Do give her lots of my love and tell her that she is always welcome to come and visit me and treat my place like home. She is truly a wonderful child and I wish her the very best.

Talking about teenagers, I just had my son over during his mid term break, its been a week since he left and I’m still recovering. He has turned 16, and is bursting with ideas, rebellion, demands interaction, and challenges my mind like 24/7. I attempt to be everything, mother, father, friend, teacher, disciplinarian and it always collapses upon my head. In order to keep pace with this American teenager, i have found that I need to know his universe and talk the talk and walk the walk alongside him. It is only then that he is willing to open up and share his thoughts and fears, and as a single parent that is crucial. The divorce has been a long hard journey for him, and now I want to be his friend and support more than anything else.

This of course means i venture into the world of gaming head on, not just sitting through Dark Souls 4,  Sky Rim, and Civilizations 5, but discussing the details of the game and the gaming world, so that perhaps we can one day move on to discuss the realities of the real world. Our debates have often been intense, but this was power play, if i could not hold my argument i had to submit and vice versa. And so he started on about my human-centric fixation, and my quest to find out what makes us human and distinguish it from the rest of the universe, so that we may retain it as we morph and evolve into the future. He knows I genuinely believe that there is something special about us humans and “humanness”, and this I struggle to express to him over his million and one objections with vivid examples demonstrating how we humans are really a vile violent and selfish expression of this universe and that if we morphed out of our humanness or if humanity was eradicated in the future nothing would be lost. Like many human evolution games which are very popular in the online gaming world, like Civilization 5, I got engrossed in a mind numbing game which tracked the evolution of man from the prehistoric stage well into the future where all is controlled by AI (artificial Intelligence), with the game/human civilization coming to a very abrupt end repeatedly once AI technology is introduced. This somehow rings alarm bells in my mind as I struggle to retain and reinforce the value of this very magical and special quality of “humanness” persuading my son that there is value in humanity, for us to hold onto, to retain till the end. Roger, I would really appreciate your holding my hand as i guide my son.

 My son with his large and empathetic heart insists that based on our inhumane treatment of animals (whom we chain confine and slaughter in the most horrific ways from boiling to bleeding), who in his opinion are not very different from men, he believes that if a more intelligent civilization did the same to man it would not be unjust and should not shock us.

 In order to distinguish humanity i discuss empathy, I discuss love, and finally I reached art. I insisted that Art is unique to man, and does not exist in the animal kingdom. He vehemently refuted this, insisting that birdsong is a creative expression of the bird, and thus art in the animal kingdom, and similarly are the various songs, dances and movements of the animal kingdom.

See below a beautiful peacock spotted during our walks around Lodi Gardens in New Delhi, India. The setting of the bird poised atop the historic tombstones enhanced the theatre of life:

Peacock spotted atop tombstones in Lodi Gardens, New Delhi, India

Peacock/ Peafowl:https://kids.nationalgeographic.com/animals/birds/facts/indian-peafowl

Lodi Gardens is a 90 acres green oasis with architectural works from the time of the Lodi dynasty in India(15th century) surrounded by lush gardens found in the heart of Delhi https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lodi_Gardens

My response which had to be electric, and as always finding myself playing the devil’s advocate in order to engage the kids into debate about the natural world, I had to ensure that my teenage subjects attention did not wander having made his case. I responded that however beautiful the birdsong, the movements of the animals in dance was essentially instinct primarily for dominance or foreplay. My argument was animals in all their colorful forms are merely instinctively acting, there is no conscious will, intent or desire. Shouting over my son’s vehement refusal to accept that conscience is limited to the human form and does not permeate the animal kingdom. I went on to stake the claim for humanity: Humans, I said expressed with intent. So all forms of human expression, song, dance, drama, are done so with a conscious mind. Infact I went so far as to say that everything touched (up) by man is design. And the moment it is expressed by man it goes beyond the instinctive, it is no longer random. Even where man intends to generate a random work, it is design, it is creative for it is the result of a conscious mind and free will. In fact I often wonder how it is in any way conceivable for man to produce generate anything remotely random (all those claims of recreating randomness in the labs!). Now Roger, you have to take this design, human expression, and tell me is it always art, or is it art only in the instance of an observer! What about the Self as an observer? Our dialogue continues…

My obsession for determining randomness in the human realm followed me (along with all the other ghosts and demons that ride on my shoulders) through an art exhibition on Chess pieces (a game dear to my heart), utilizing the game of chess, the chess pieces and board, to highlight societal issues. It was very inspiring, and two in particular excited my imagination. However, as i did the rounds of the various chess displays, I kept returning to a nondescript  one sitting by the corner, which initially left me cold. The caption and description were a one liner, which did nothing to express the art. The chess pieces themselves were plain and boxy, representing rectangular blocks, and were not particularly attractive, unlike the other chess boards and pieces at the exhibit. But most curiously, even though the pieces were blocks in black and white, all in different sizes representing the chess hierarchy, the painted lines on top of some of the pieces did not make sense. they did not follow any order and could not be comprehended however many times i visited them. It left me very uneasy, for we all look for patterns and there was absolutely no pattern, no underlying idea, no inkling of the design neither from the pieces nor the description. The demon of randomness loomed high above my shoulders as i struggled to push him away. I them approached the gallery owner and casually asked her to explain the various art works, making a point not to lead her to the beast right away. When we finally got to this particular chess set, i cornered her and then with all my focus and high anticipation i quizzed her about the designs on top of the pieces, did they represent moves, anything, anything at all. She laughed and said that they meant nothing, it was just“random”, just a design with no meaning. I felt my brain explode and  I would not let her go, repeating my question in all the ways possible in case we were missing something in communication. When she laughed at the nondescript one-liner caption, i promise you the floor fell through. I had dreamt and thought about this so much, I revisited the board/demon every time I passed the gallery, and now with that foolish laugh and sing song voice I am told the patterns mean nothing, they were a mindless design drawn on top of the pieces at “random”. It was then that I recognized however many times she may repeat the word random, the fact that it was the creative expression of man, done with intent, even if it was with the intent of being random, it could never truly be random. See attached chess board (Janarthanan R. “Construction”).

Chess by Janarthanan R. “Construction”

The journey of the chess pieces brought me to a chess piece inspired by Yoko Ono’s White Chess “Play it by Trust”. Yoko Ono, a wonderful artist and wife of John Lennon, created this piece of art as a part of her larger anti-war message: Imagine Peace. White Chess consists of all white pieces (white on both sides), placed upon a board of white squares. So in order to play you have to remember where your pieces are placed on the chess board at all times, and so must know where your opponents white pieces are placed. However, that is not all, this game can only be played by trust, ie, the two opposing sides have to come to a consensus, agreement as to where their corresponding pieces lie at each move, for from plain view or the eye of the external observer it would be near impossible to determine the same. Similarly, drawing a parallel between the game of chess and the dynamics of nations (especially the delicate dance that played out as nuclear warheads were moved around by the Soviets and the Americans), with white pieces being played on a white chessboard, in order for the two opponents to move, trust is integral to gameplay.

Yoko Ono, through this work of art reiterates the need for mutual trust between peoples and nations for we are all the same and as we play deeper into the game all lines and divisions blur, the only thing that remains is trust. This I found brilliantly true, and enjoyed the Yoko Ono’s message through her brilliant piece.

See below Yoko Ono’s Play It By Trust at the LongHouse, NY: https://www.longhouse.org/pages/yoko-ono

A Forbes article on Yoko Ono’s Play it by Trust below:

http://www.forbes.com/sites/jonathonkeats/2014/01/23/yes-yoko-ono-is-a-great-artist-and-we-need-her-latest-show-now-more-than-ever/

See Below Purnima Plays Chess (Woodstock, Mussoorie, India)

Purnima Plays Chess-Woodstock, Mussoorie, India

Yoko Ono takes me back to John Lennon of course and the wonderful song Imagine with its beautiful lyrics pasted below. Yoko Ono and John Lennon also take me back to my last email about our Brave New World, and your request that I continue with that chapter, so here goes…

John Lennon-Imagine

Lyrics:

“Imagine”

Imagine there’s no heaven

It’s easy if you try

No hell below us

Above us only sky

Imagine all the people

Living for today…

Imagine there’s no countries

It isn’t hard to do

Nothing to kill or die for

And no religion too

Imagine all the people

Living life in peace…

love

Purnima

PURNIMA VISWANATHAN

Disclaimer 😛

All persons, places, events are fictitious; all imputed relationships purely aspirational. There were no men harmed during the penning of the Feminist Manifesto

Geneva Diaries #62*

Burnes and The Great Game, Goa, Gauguin, Dalrymple and Afghanistan

12/2/14

Dear Roger,

I’m finally back in Delhi after all my adventures. Goa was glorious, I love weather, the semi rural atmosphere, the palm trees of course and the balmy beaches, like Gauguin I’m afraid I’m headed for a tropical dreamland. I am seriously thinking of moving bag baggage and all!

Goa: https://www.pinterest.fr/cosmosnala/goa-india/

Tropical Dreamland reminds me of Paul Gauguin, the French Post Impressionist artist -(See below painted on his first trip to Tahiti):

By The Sea: https://artsandculture.google.com/asset/qwF_p9DsSxWadw

Paul Gauguin / Public domain

See below my images from the Paul Gauguin exhibit at the De Young Museum in SF: A Landscape in Tahiti that reminded me of the Goa countryside.

It was a truly delicious time, where I found I could live, lounge and wander town wearing just my bathing costume and little else, perhaps a sarong and that worked beautifully. The comfortable sea breezes throughout the day seemed to complement my ideal body temperature, and the fresh sea food prepared in both Goan and French styles on the shacks by the beach made it a treat worth waiting for. The cherry on the topping was that I was surrounded by books I couldn’t wait to devourer, with promises of a hundred exciting conversation where you Roger are always somehow magically present expressing your opinions. I have deconstructed/reconstructed (perhaps an alter ego with pieces of all that I know of you) you to follow me on all my journeys and participate in all these animated discussions between the author, I, me and myself. So all in all it was fabulous fun.

The only danger I discovered was that I was slowly slipping away from the world of men to into the world of books. We spent a lot of time meeting and socializing with friends but I would run to back to bed anxiously to pick up where I last left off in case the armies had crossed the Khyber pass without me! Yes, I was reading The Return of the King: The battle for Afghanistan by William Dalrymple and mentally could not put it down till I turned the last page.

See below The Return of the King: The battle for Afghanistan introduced by William Dalrymple:

“Anyone who is ignorant of history is destined to carry on repeating it”

Dashing Dalrymple

Interestingly enough I had just finished the Buburnama, the diary kept by Babur, the founder of the great Mughal dynasty in India before I left for Goa and my mind, body and soul was embroiled in the 13th/14th century politics of what appeared by endless revenge, retribution, pillaging, murder and assaults to either claim, retain or conquer lands by men who appeared to live on horseback. As I read about the Uzbeks, the Tajiks, the Afghans, the Hazaras and the Mongols like Babur who have both the blood of the Timurids (from Tamerlane) and the Mongols (from Ghenghiz Khan), I realized how close to home(India) I had come as these ferocious and fiercely independent tribes had left their imprint in many ways other than by blood (many north Indians can be traced to these tribes) through the millennia by plunder and by conquest and rule. I was finally able to see the many interconnected pathways that connected Balkh, Bukhara, Samarkand, Kabul, Kandahar, Peshawar and Delhi. We were all so much closer than we appeared.

Baburnama: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baburnama https://depts.washington.edu/silkroad/texts/babur/babur1.html

However, another bizarre occurrence happened, I found as I made my way to the end of the Baburnama, I came to the part where upon the instigation of Ibrahim Lodi’s mother, Babur gets poisoned by his Hindustani cooks, and doubles and wretches in pain which continues till the point where he is unsure if he will survive the poisoning, I find myself in a similar state just the night before I am to embark upon my trip to Goa. I am doubled out with anguish, my stomach has bloated and I find myself crying out in agony. It was the most severe case of food poisoning that I had ever experienced and I survived it by crawling to the chemist just before they shut and taking the strongest doze of antibiotics available. As I lay in my sweat I found myself echoing Babur’s words (which seemed so brutal at that point) at the wretched cooks at The Indo Chinese restaurant that were responsible for my state: “QUARTER THE F*CKERS!!!”. I guess some of that Central Asian fire lives on in the most unlikeliest of places/people.

But Roger, the story does not end there, the mystery deepens. After my idyllic ten days in Goa of sea surf and good food, I found myself once again merging into my book. I was there in person with all the prominent personas of the Raj that had so vividly colored William Dalrymple’s Return of the King1839-1842. The period of the Raj is a time that I live in even now, even today, as that is a part of me since I was essentially raised by my grandparents who were so much a part of it. It was a very easy cover to slip into, and I lived in it for most of my time in Goa. I found myself an integral part of the Great Game, and was very excited by it. I yearned for the company of Alexander Burnes, Charles Masson, The British East India Company’s explorer and adventurer who deserted and went underground to re-emerge in Afghanistan uncovering a treasure trove of Bactrian and Buddhist antiquities and coins.

Check Masson in Encyclopedia Iranica: https://iranicaonline.org/articles/masson-charles), and Vitkevitch https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jan_Prosper_Witkiewicz

Vitkevitch was a Russian/Polish Orientalist explorer and diplomat from a Polish/Lithuanian nobility who was sent by the Russians for hard labor to the steppes in his youth as he was a part of the nationalistic rebellion and the incredible story of how he found a way to educate himself on the language customs and traditions of the peoples of the steppes and Central Asia, salvage his destroyed life to reach the top of his career. Last but not the least the story of Alexander Burnes, this British explorer, diplomat, part of the British East India Company with his very colorful personality. His journeys through central Asia to Bukhara which brought his fame, his explorations/survey of the Indus river with the pretext of delivering horses to Maharaja Ranjit Singh, his knowledge of Hindi and Persian which allowed him to travel in disguise undiscovered across these regions. His role in the Great Game and the last but not the least, his passion for pursuits of pleasure, especially the dark eyed beauties of this realm  that often appeared to take precedence over rationality and judgement. 

With my mind swirling with the stories of these incredible adventurers who had often taken the alternate path to journey and discovery and seemed to be lit by a fire within to uncover discover and explore these strange new lands, unexplored systems and customs, I could hardly be blamed for slipping right in. Yes, slipping right in and embracing this colorful persona of Sir Alexander Burnes, robed as an Englishman in oriental garb and spouting Persian and Hindustani in the markets of Kabul and Bukhara and evading discovery. I found myself befriending Ranjit Singh, and building a relationship with Dost Mohammad who was the emir of the ruler of Afghanistan at that point. I found myself embroiled in the Great Game, sending clandestine information to my compatriots (Wade and Macnaghten) in India urging them to support the present regime and deterring them from thoughts of invasion and regime change which was to ensue and resulted catastrophic First Anglo Afghan War. This resulting devastation and defeat saw army and camp followers of close to 18,000 persons being reduced to a single survivor. William Dalrymple does attempt to draw parallels between that futile deadly war with no plans for exit with our current situation in Afghanistan but I found the more absorbing narrative were the actual personas in this grand theatre. 

Tell me Roger is it fair that all the fun seems to be had by the boys…They go out and explore, adventure, unravel, learn new languages and explore unknown cultures, disguise themselves in exotic garb and wander through intoxicatingly dangerous marketplaces lashed by foreign tongues. Well, I was not going to be left behind, I saw myself everyday as Sir Alexander Burnes, and even incorporated a bit of that “Angrezi accent” to more fully realize it. All the pieces fit, I was as fiery, as passionate as smart and interested as any English explorer. That Solar Tope would fit well on my head and I was steeped in all manners food culture and mannerisms of the Raj I couldn’t be a better fit.

See this iconic symbol of The Raj, the Solar Tope below:

https://thevintagetraveler.wordpress.com/2014/09/15/sun-proof-sola-hat/

Solar Tope from The Indian Heritage Museum, Singapore

I share once again an image from my family album embodying the Raj – The Maharaja of Mysore (in white) is sporting a solar tope, my grandfather is the one with the gun of course.

V. Viswanathan and The Maharaja of Mysore

However, after all the chemical from the excess antibiotics etc etc had worn off I awoke one morning and saw a groggy image in the mirror which almost made me scream…I saw a dusky oriental face with unkempt shoulder length hair and large dark almond eyes. EEEK, I, SIR Alexander Burnes had metamorphosed into one of the dark eyed beauties I had spent my life pursuing! I could not believe it, and washed my face vigorously. The image remained stuck on the mirror. I then looked down and found to my horror enormous breasts. They were attached to my body. I tried to jump up and down to dislodge them but they seemed to move with me. I quickly changed without looking at myself and charged out of the house for dinner. As I reached my favorite shack La Plage in Goa:

La Plage-Goa: https://lbb.in/goa/culinary-landmark-la-plage-arambol-beach/

I found myself happily dozing back into my world my dreams adventure and intrigue where I was a highly respected member of the Great Game. I dozed off looking at the ocean, when some English voices on the table next door woke me up. I jumped up to go to the rest room when one of the dashing guys from the table next door looked me up and down with very appreciative eyes…That was the last straw. I heard myself shouting in my mind I am Sir Alexander Burnes, yes S-I-R Alexander Burnes and you are looking at me as though I am some oriental nymph that has emerged from the ocean. Do you not recognize me young man. He seemed to smile as though he had heard me and returned to his table. Fortunately for me, as i thundered down to earth and embraced my self “as is” I saw to my relief that my brother and the rest of my group of friends were still around had decided not to disturb me from my self induced delirium as they had done through the vacation.

I wish I could say that it all ended well. You see the The British-Indian army had yet to retreat from Afghanistan and as they were chased and slaughtered, buried in snow and trampled over in these remote and blistering cold passes of the Golan and Khyber by the very tribes they has so disdainfully antagonized, ones who were the traditional protectors of the man journeying though these uninhabitable and brutal lands. The snow accumulated, the winds howled, their provisions were lost, frostbite set in, man cannibalized fellow man, with many howling and praying to be relieved of their agony.

See below an excellent article by The Guardian:

In addition, there runs through this story a disturbing undercurrent of relevance. “The closer I looked,” Dalrymple says, “the more the west’s first disastrous entanglement in Afghanistan seemed to contain distinct echoes of the neo-colonial adventures of our own day.” 

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2013/jan/23/dalrymple-return-king-athill-review

Prior to this departure Alexander Burnes heroically (some may claim naively) gave shelter to a slave girl mistress of the the Afghan leader who ran away from her master. Burnes refused to turn her over despite the agitated calls of the clamoring mob that had gathered around his home adding further fuel to the smoldering fire which culminated in the storming of his residence and his lynching at their hands. 

Thus the blizzard, biting cold of these passes, with the political follies, bad planning and leadership resulted in the almost complete massacre of the entire British Indian army and camp followers numbering an overwhelming 18,000 barring a handful. And as my ghost journeyed with them and saw to my horror all my premonitions come true. I returned from Goa with a dreadful cold and fever and have spent the last six days cuddled up in bed in my familiar surroundings as ME. 

What do you make of it Roger, that is my adventures?

Love and hugs

Purnima

PS: Do check out The Asia Society presentation by William Dalrymple: https://asiasociety.org/video/william-dalrymples-return-king-complete


On Monday, January 27, 2014, Roger Stevenson wrote:

Dear Purnima,

 It was such a delight to get your long and fascinating tale of metamorphosis into Sir Alexander Burnes, but I was disturbed by your encounter with food poisoning.  What a  frightful experience !  Fortunately, you made it to the pharmacy in time !

 And how I envy your time in Goa.  It has always held such a mythical and mystical attraction for me, but now that we have decided to abandon South East Asia, I fear that I will never again be close enough to Goa to envision visiting.  I shall have to be content with living it vicariously through your eyes and in my mind, as is the case with so much of what I dream and yearn for these days.  We were at the weekly Sunday Night Market in Chiang Mai last night where a kilometer-long street is blocked off to traffic so that hundreds of local artisans selling a vast array of items from T-shirts to leather handbags to essential oils to iPhone covers made from local woods can share the street with musicians, street food peddlers, Australian Didgeridoo players, blind musicians,  occasional performances by swaying, jumping Hari Krishna devotees, street massage parlors where you can get a 60-minute foot massage for under $10.00 AND great hordes of tourists of all nationalities, but increasingly huge numbers of Chinese who have been lured to Chiang Mai by an immensely popular Chinese film shot in the city (there are now several direct flights a day to Chiang Mai from three or four different Chinese cities).  As we push our way through the masses of humanity that clog the narrow street, I often find that I have gotten ahead of the rest of the group (the family love to shop at the market), so I stop and wait for them to catch up and spend the time watching the people milling around as they float from one stand to the next.  The occasional striking beauty of a feminine creature with deep, penetrating eyes never fails to make me yearn for a time when I could actually dream of a chance of getting to know her, but now I can only dream and fantasize.

 I was struck by your question: “Tell me Roger if it is fair that all the fun seems to be had by the boys, they go out and explore, adventure, unravel, learn new languages and explore unknown cultures.”

Of course, it isn’t fair.  The men of history – those you have dreamed of and lived among in your recent metamorphosis have indeed been men, but you are right.  The female historical figures who have made a lasting mark on the development of civilizations and cultures are really few and far between.  The Cleopatras and Catherine the Greats don’t come around very often, but there are the occasional figures like Amelia Earhart , Karen Blixen, Maria Curie (sorry all my examples are from the 19th and 20th centuries).  I think our societies have to undergo profound changes before women will be accepted as great leaders, adventurers and explorers in their own right.

We have been following the misadventures of our old friend Shashi Tharoor.  I knew his propensity to tweet would eventually land him in a bit of trouble, and his wife’s tragic death is either a case of totally bad luck (karma???). What’s your take on the whole affair?

We are also in the throes of getting ready to make the move to Southern California.  The family left this afternoon and they spent the past six weeks here with us, the final two busily packing and boxing up their belongings that will be shipped with ours.  The house looks rather barren at this point with most of the pictures and decorations taken down from the walls and piles of carefully sealed and numbered boxes in several rooms.  We leave Chiang Mai on Feb. 27th, will spend three days in Kuala Lumpur, then fly to Hanoi for five days before flying back to Chiang Mai to pick up the rest of our luggage.  We then will fly to Paris on March 10th where we will spend three weeks before we leave for Los Angeles on March 31st.

Take care and do be careful where and what you eat. I also hope that your terrible cold is better, although it did mean that I got a wonderfully long and tantalizing email.

Giant hugs,

Roger

Roger Stevenson

167 M. 4.  T. Huaysai.  A. Mae Rim

Chiang Mai 50180 – Thailand

PURNIMA VISWANATHAN

Disclaimer 😛

All persons, places, events are fictitious; all imputed relationships purely aspirational. There were no men harmed during the penning of the Feminist Manifesto