The Unsaturated Reader

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  • Tracing the ‘Juggernaut’

    Tracing the ‘Juggernaut’

    It was early 14th century, and in Puri, abutted on the eastern coast of Orissa, the day that recurred once every year had finally arrived; Rath Yatra. A giant idol studded and throned on gold, venerated by the whole of subcontinent, was stowed on a huge, ornamented chariot and the royals, pilgrims and the commons would cruise it together with much pomp and music. The maidens would go to the fore and chant in a “marvelous manner”, one traveller recorded. What ensued thereafter would be the ritual that would bewitch and horrify other unacquainted onlookers to an equal measure. The assembled pious pilgrims casted their bodies underneath the destructive wheels of the chariot in the belief that they, the devout mortals, be sacrificed to Lord Vishnu, the Jagganath. And hence, they perished, or in accordance with customary beliefs, went to glory. 

    One who had witnessed the procession to the hilt was the Franciscan missionary, Friar Odoric, the aforesaid traveller. He produced an account of the incident in his journal and thus this tale, perhaps exaggerated, became rapidly popular through the hallways of Europe. In the 19th century especially, the English, much captivated by the tale, would anglicize it and give birth to the word—‘juggernaut’. Thereupon, ‘Juggernaut’ was literally used to refer to anything that had the calamitous capability of fiercely destructing or crushing all that comes to its path.

    For those seeking the meaning of ‘Jagganath’ :
    ‘Jagannath’, which literally means ‘Lord of the Universe’ has its roots in Sanskrit. In Sanskrit, जगन्नाथ can be deconstructed to ‘Jagat’ which means ‘universe’ and ’natha’ which means ‘lord’ or ‘master’.

    This of course, is not the only story that pervades the conception of the word ‘juggernaut’. Another source traces its origin from the details inhabiting the letters mailed home by an Anglican chaplain, Rev. Claudius Buchanan from India. This took place during the early 19th century. Expectedly, he was repelled by the grotesque ritual and wrote back home vilifying it as a virulent cult. Having been discipled in missionary education, he held strong ecclesiastical views which tempted him to see the ‘other’ as a ghoulish religion people blindly embraced. Through his eyes, the seemingly dissonant state of religions in India required the intervention of Christian missions. In an attempt to apprise his Christian readers, for a piece published in Christian Researches of Asia in 1811, he drew parallels between the ritual he witnessed in India with the practice of sacrificing children to the heathen god Moloch.

    The description, which became popular amongst the anglophone audience, was this:

    “The idol called Juggernaut has been considered as the Moloch of the present age; and he is justly so named, for the sacrifices offered up to him by self-devotement are not less criminal, perhaps not less numerous, than those recorded of the Moloch of Cannan.”

    Buchanan even went to the extent of glossing upon an unfounded proposition that even the most unlettered Indian would find unpalatable today; that the Jagganath (or Juggernaut) “is said to smile when the libation of blood is made.” Likewise, a missionary magazine in 1813, corrupting the supposedly dangerous aura that flavors the idea of a juggernaut, likened the latter to the perceived evils of consuming alcohol.

    Decades later, though the word ‘juggernaut’ was reinstated to its forbearers, the concocted meaning of the word assumed permanence. This word has since made its appearance across different genres, places, and times.  ‘Juggernaut’, a villainous character described to be habitually at loggerheads with other heroes, made its way into Marvel Comics in 1965. An anti-communist communist book published in 1932 was named ‘The Red Juggernaut’. The word also makes an ephemeral appearance in Charlotte Bronte’s ‘Jane Eyre’. 

    The excerpt:

    “This girl, this child, the native of a Christian land, worse than many a little heathen who says its prayers to Brahma and kneels before Juggernaut—this girl is—a liar!”

    Apart from the few aforementioned, numerous examples prevail.

    Surpassing countless delusions, suppositions, imaginations, is how the mighty word of juggernaut has come to resemble the omnipotent—literal or metaphorical— force that is ascribed to it today.  Although we do not know whether this journey of conflicting interpretations shall continue, or even if—giving credence to an optimistic hunch—it reaches where it belonged once, one can be sure that this word would burgeon, attributing to it more things deemed unrelenting, for no other word commands such puissant vigor as the ‘juggernaut’.

    More

    The travels of Friar Odoric was later included in the travels of Sir John Mandeville, from which we reconstruct much of the information that we know about the origin of this word today. Interested readers, who would like to read about other first-hand accounts that Odoric produced from his observations, can refer to the text here.

  • ‘Mary Ventura and the Ninth Kingdom’ by Sylvia Plath

    ‘Mary Ventura and the Ninth Kingdom’ by Sylvia Plath

    A rejected short story, written during the days succeeding her home departure, while in college, and even dismissed by its own writer as a “vague symbolic tale”, Mary Ventura and the Ninth Kingdom is an absorbing story running almost fifty pages that rightly possesses nuances of mystery, death, sexuality with a tinge of juvenility. Not being one of her finest works, it is unsurprising that this piece was turned down by Mademoiselle magazine on submission. Perhaps, this unpublished work of the twenty-year-old Plath was fated to wither in her archives for years until the academic Judith Glazer-Raymo unearthed them.

    The basic thread of the story runs through Mary Ventura, the protagonist, who wades through unwieldy circumstances on a train ride—a ride destined for the “ninth kingdom”, the abode of frozen will, one where you’re coaxed to stomach and surrender to fate, and purportedly, as the overtones of the story suggests, to meet one’s makers. Enriching the narrative’s platter are Plath’s colored descriptions of the scenes that encompass the story, often disturbing that it compels one to foresee the slowly unfolding doom. To quote a few lines:

    “Blood oozed from a purpling bruise. The younger boy began to whimper.”

    “The train had shot into the somber gray afternoon, and the bleak autumn fields stretched away on either side of the tracks beyond the cinder beds. In the sky hung a flat orange disc that was the sun.”

    In a notable conversation with the woman Mary encountered in the train, the reader, who can prudently parse the context, would be much able to suppose a faint suspense that builds in the novel thereafter.

    [Mary] “I shouldn’t wonder. It is a comfortable ride, really. They do so many nice extra little things, like the refreshments every hour, and the drinks in the card room, and the lounges in the dining car. It’s almost as good as a hotel.”

    The woman flashed her a sharp look.

    “Yes my dear,” she said dryly, “but remember you pay for it. You pay for it all in the end. It’s their business to make the trip attractive. The train company has more than a pure friendly interest in the passengers.”

    And then the story proceeds spanning Mary’s entire journey, and the sometimes fortuitous exchanges and situations that ultimately make Mary refurbish the dole that confronts her life.

    Though not an outright masterpiece, the contours of this story reflects Plath’s dubiety about the path she trods in her own life and in many instances, through Mary’s desperate enquiries and yearnings to get out, one can sense Plath’s own trepidations about her journey in this world.

    Mary Ventura and the Ninth Kingdom qualifies a one-time read; however, better would be an audio version of the same, some with excellent narration accompanying it. Be not prepared to be enthralled by the tale, but grasp the vexations of a young mind that imprint the journey towards the making of a great writer.

    More

    Mary Ventura and the Ninth Kingdom – audiobook on Storytel

  • Review of Salman Khurshid’s ‘Visible Muslim, Invisible Citizen’

    Review of Salman Khurshid’s ‘Visible Muslim, Invisible Citizen’

    ‘The Visible Muslim, Invisible Citizen’ is a book that proposes to understand the various tenets of Islam in the Indian Democracy. In his book, Khurshid attempts to analyse and provide a discourse on the question that is pertinent to every Indian Muslim, “What am I as a muslim?” 

    With the book centring on a span of topics that would be of interest to the inquisitive mind like ‘Aligarh Character Assassination’ to ‘Sufi Traditions’ , one only wishes that the author had written more on it rather than confining them briefly to a few pages. The author, professing his excellency in writing, leaves readers like myself for instance, yearning for more after each chapter. 

    The book begins with the description of India as a collection of multiple nationalities, the important roles that Muslims played throughout India’s struggle for independence, its history and hence proceeding onto the sensitive topic of partition. In one of the later chapters, the author notes with utmost optimism that if the reunification of Vietnam, Germany, end of apartheid in South Africa et al, had been possible, then the prospect of India and Pakistan dwelling in peace is not only achievable but also imperative for humankind. As for the involvement of Indian Muslims in the freedom struggle, Khurshid quotes the prominent writer Khushwant Singh saying, “Indian freedom is written on Muslims’ blood, their participation in [the] freedom struggle was much more in proportion to their small percentage of population.” This is indeed true, as the book chronicles the vast achievements of Indian Muslims, their persistent effort in diminishing the imperial rule and denouncing the jeopardising framework laid down my the colonials. A stirring account of the emergence of the Aligarh Muslim University (AMU)  in the chapter ‘Aligarh Character Assassination’ gives one all right to believe in the extraordinary achievements of Muslims in the field of education and Sir Syed Ahmed Khan’s desire of setting up an ‘Oxbridge in the East,’ from whom the very idea of AMU was born. Further moving on, the book gives an understanding of the much debated Enemy Property Act, its implications with authentic statistics and and also, as uncanny as it may sound, a vague and condensed view on the curious case of ‘Love-Jihad’. A reader would certainly find the portion lacking in precision as the author tends to make an ambiguous judgement with regard to the issue. 

    In one of the later chapters, the author notes with utmost optimism that if the reunification of Vietnam, Germany, end of apartheid in South Africa et al, had been possible, then the prospect of India and Pakistan dwelling in peace is not only achievable but also imperative for humankind.

    Khurshid also attempts to give an elaborate view on the contentious ‘Triple Talaq’ alluding to its ‘inherent odious nature’ and ‘questionable pedigree’. The current hotly debated case of ‘Babri Masjid’ finds its way into the book with the author producing an excellent account of its compelling history, which every Indian must know, and the different claims that has been laid down by various groups over the years regarding the actual proprietor of the land. Since Babur, the founder of the Mughal Dynasty, has been the prime target of many these days, for having invaded India and ruled, the author says, ‘The fact is quite the opposite, if we recall the poignant way in which Babur gave up his life for Humayun and his relationship with India, even if he did hope to return to his native land Kabul and be buried there’. A wealth of other riveting narratives appears in this book such as the history of Islam, Sufi traditions, matters of belief and faith and the lamented discontinuance of the Sachar Committee, a committee institutionalised for the report sought by the 2005 Dr. Manmohan Singh government on the contemporary status of Muslims in India. 

    However, despite the ignorable inadequacies of the book, one would not disagree that the author’s brilliant take on the authoritativeness of Fatwas and Muftis is the icing on the cake.

    Although the apposite titling of the book intrigues one to devour in it, it must be noted that the book only partly does justice to the title as the book remains unclear with its objectives in parts that require a preconceived consensus. Nevertheless, it must be treated as a great read as it is one-of-a-kind books out there that seeks to be explanative of the plethora of issues that affect Indian muslims today and the lesser-known facets of their fascinating  history. Their achievements, efforts, hard work had blossomed into our knowledge quite infrequently and this book would definitely make its way into rectifying those.

  • Review of Benyamin’s ‘Goat Days’

    Review of Benyamin’s ‘Goat Days’

    “After all it is only hope that makes a man go forward”, said he who had faced the misfortunes worth suffering a thousand lives, Najeeb. In the dreary deserts, with only the sands visible to the faintest eyes, grazing the horizons and beyond, the life of any Malayali who had come to the Gulf land with far fetched dreams; their lives can only be far from fathomable. ‘Goat Days’ poses as a mirage of that harsh truth. Under the veil of luxuries and moolah of the Arabian world lies the cloaked plight of these hapless men, cajoled by the knot they’ve let themselves get entangled in, yet apprehensive of the very chance of breaking free, lest they meet a greater catastrophe on the journey back. 

    Beginning with the aspirations of any young married man of the 90s, proceeding onto his tryst with the austere realities of the Arab world; the anguish, pain, suffering, wrath, caress, love, death and ultimately defeatism, this poignant novel will make one contemplate the arcane insecurity of a human — the purpose of his very existence. Enduring misery in the lone planet that he believes he is in, with none to share a beautiful sight with, is one of the greatest sorrows of life, recounts Najeeb; exposing the painstaking secret dolour of our conscience yet again. 

    As Najeeb wades through the flood of torments that deluge upon him, his mind in the company of Allah, his dear Hakeem and the saviour in disguise of a modern-day ‘Achates’ Ibrahim — the one that would read in between the lines, throbbing each second, would be us, the fortunates. All said and done, for definite, there exists no parallel for Benyamin’s master story-telling finesse. To reproduce a real life story with words spun into like that of a coronal of flowers, devoid of adulteration —that, only a genuine writer can. Proving his point conspicuously, through the pages of his sanctified work, Benyamin gives us the promising outlook that he’d never disappoint. As I said, this tale, is a reflection of ourselves —not the adorned physicality we’ve been exhibiting around, rather, expounding the real being in us, the woes of a human.