June 05, 2006
Ajeet Cour: A Punjabi WriterFiction
Since Ive written a lot on Indian writers from Bengal (and lately, the South), I often get emails from people saying, when are you going to write about Punjabi literature? And what about Sikh writers? My response is pretty simple: a person needs to be inspired. Ethnic and religious loyalty ought to take a back seat to the quality of the writing, and the effect it has on you as an individual reader. If that means Ian McEwan, Philip Roth, or Zadie Smith get more of ones critical attention than Amrita Pritam, so be it.
But I was recently invited to give a talk on Sikh writers at a small Sikh Studies conference at Hofstra University, so I started reading authors that I didnt know very well and I was, in fact, quite impressed. So over the course of this summer I hope to profile some Punjabi writers, including some that are Sikh, starting with Ajeet Cour, Kartar Singh Duggal, and Khushwant Singh (who writes in English). Incidentally, many of these writers’ works are accessible in North America and the UK, through sites like Indiaclub.com or Amazon Marketplace sellers.
With Ajeet Cour, the place to start is her memoir, Pebbles in a Tin Drum, published in Hindi and Punjabi as Khanabadosh (which means nomad or vagabond). This isnt a conventional memoir so much as an arrangement of the key crises in Cours life. It starts out of order with her moving account of her adult daughters death from a severe burn accident in France. But then Cour backs up, and tells the story of her familys move from Lahore to Delhi during the Partition; of her failed romance with her English teacher, Baldev (through whom she started on her path to the writing life); of her failed marriage and subsequent divorce; and finally, of her life as a single mother in Delhi who struggled to support herself and her daughters while working as a writer in the 1970s and 80s. She also talks about her experiences as a Sikh woman in Delhi during the riots in 1984. And there are two chapters that I rather liked on the unlikely topic of her legal battles with her landlord which dragged on for years and even went to the High Court. This experience gives Ajeet Cour a pronounced hostility for Indian government bureaucracy, which shows up in some of her short stories. For instance, in the collection Dead End there is a short story about a family that tries to get justice for their daughter, after she was raped and murdered by Indian soldiers during the troubles in Punjab. Instead of justice or sympathy, all they get is endless bureaucratic run-around. (Sadly, a familiar story for people who have suffered as a result of communal violence in recent years.)
Even though Cours life has been pretty unconventional, she remains in many ways a traditional Punjabi Sikh woman. When her daughter is dying in a French hospital, for instance, she takes frequent recourse in prayer:
I had only been saying to God, Look I have not committed any sins all these years… . Bless my daughter and help her get well. She is going to be nineteen on the twenty-sixth of November. This is no age to go through such suffering. At this age she should enjoy herself. You know fully well how she has spent her childhood sharing her mothers poverty and how she had to face her fathers temper and hatred. Things have just started getting a little better. It isonly now that we can afford to relax in the evenings and listen to music and discuss books. Our greatest strength is that we have each other as friends. The friendship I enjoy with my two daughters has given warmth to my life and dispelled the pain from my existence.
The quality of the translation isnt great, but theres a kind of directness and sincerity here and elsewhere in Cours writing that comes through anyway, and that I really admire. (There arent very many prominent Indian writers of Cours generation that are avowedly religious. Most are either silent on their religious beliefs or use their writings to emphasize the backwardness or even the danger of naïve religious belief.)
Another passage I admire from Pebbles in a Tin Drum is Cours description of the room she was born in and lived in until they had to leave Lahore:
Some are born in gypsy families and others become gypsies through a conspiracy of circumstances.Isnt it ironic that man remains totally ignorant about the two most significant events of his life, his birth and his death? The first takes place due to negligence and the second leads to the disappearance of its protagonist from the world. Dust into dust and air into air. You can go on searching eternally but you wont find those who have blended into earth and air. Poets are free to make the elements the earth, the air and the sky as romantic as they like but I asure you that these elements are not only deaf and dumb, they are also blind.
I was told about the first major incident of my life by my mother and grandmother long after it had taken place. Showing me a large, spacious bed they had said, You were born on this bed. The bed was placed in a spacious, airy room in my grandmothers house in Lahore. A wide bed made of strong wood, it was supported by thick, round, carved legs which reminded me of the silver-encircled ankles of Haryanvi women working along with their men in the fields.
And then a bit more on the tension between romance and the real world. As a young girl Cour was attracted to the windows in her house, which her family had covered in heavy curtains:
I feel all that has become a part of my constitution, my texture. Or maybe I have been created by a blend of all these things. You could even say that it was the conspiracy of that room which had blended with my blood the moment I was born. A poet would say that every object in that room was a symbol, a sign whose meaning was revealed layer by layer at a later stage.However, I am not a poet, I am a storyteller. Of course I can say this much, that I have always longed to feel the open, free air and vast areas of empty space stretched around me. Unfortunately, every window that life threw open on the rippling breezes and blue skies where the balmy sun floated like will-o-the-wisp was blocked by heavy bamboo curtains, denying me access to what I desperately wanted to reach.
In a sense this is a metaphor for her struggle (which I think is everyones struggle) to experience life in its ideal, beautiful form in the broad daylight as it were. Most of the time we are stuck indoors with the light on partly cloudy, fussing with the curtains. (This is a domesticated version of Platos allegory of the cave of course.)
There is more that could be said about Pebbles in a Tin Drum as well as the short stories of Cours that Ive been reading (in Dead End and Other Stories). But Ive run on too long already. So Ill just end with a quote from Cours story Returning Home, which features an adult womans reminiscence of her childhood fascination with her mystical grandfather. It again gets into the theme of religion, though I think it does so from a somewhat secular perspective:
He recited the lyrical hymns from the Holy Book for hours. Whenever he was free-which he almost always was!-he climbed the stairs, humming, and went to the meditation room, and recited hymns from the Holy Book. While reciting, he closed his eyes and climbed down those invisible stairs which lead one to a very dark and very bright spot in the inner recesses of the soul. He spent long hours at that pitch-dark and brilliant, luminous spot in the inner core of his being. And his lips quivered with silent laughter.I often saw him sitting like that, absolutely quiet. With the open pages of the Holy Book spread before him, his eyes closed, completely oblivious of his surroundings, a silent laughter spread across his face like sunshine, and his hands dancing gracefully.
This is one of the earliest memories of my childhood. Though we always feel that everything connected with those early days of our life were wrapped up in unknown mysteries and inexplicable magic, I honestly feel that my grandfather was a mystery, he was magic personified.
Any comments on Ajeet Cour or other Punjabi writers you admire (including those who write in English)? Im open to suggestions for writers to talk to about.
amardeep on June 5, 2006 02:24 PM in Fiction · T·r·a·c·k·b·a·c·k address · Direct link · Email post





Fantastic post! Wish I knew of Punjabi authors. Is the woman who wrote Aag ka Darya (River of Fire) Punjabi?
Here is link to a website I often visit. This site has some of the best in punjabi poetry. Some of it is translated in english, but mostly in Gurmukhi or Shahmukhi.
"Sant Singh Sekhon" and "Gurdial singh" would my recomendations. Their work might not be translated into English.
Awesome post, Yoda-ji.
I just checked and Indiaclub carries some translated works of both Gurdial singh and Sant singh sekhon
Eddie, you're thinking of Qurratulain Hyder. She isn't Punjabi, but I have read "River of Fire" and might post on it some time if I have a chance to re-read it. If you have any impressions of that novel you wish to share, feel free.
HM, thanks for the link. I'll check it out.
I just read this novel by this Sikh guy from London called Nirpal Singh Dhaliwal. The novel is called Tourism and it is a tedious self-satisfied piece of Sub Michel Houellbecq trash. About a Punjabi guy from Southall who sleeps his way through London society, passing lots of liberal baiting comments on race and religion and modern multicultural England. Lots of explicit sex, casual nihilism, desperate to be 'edgy' and 'dangerous'. Just comes across as juvenile and predictable.
Ajeet Cour's daughter is the acclaimed artist Arpana Cour.
I have to say, Ajeet Cour's life sounds eventful and fascinating.
Perhaps the most acclaimed post-partition Punjabi poet is Shiv Kumar Batalvi. The article linked to gives an overview of his long narrative poem 'Loona'.
I am curious about the last name "cour", is it another version of Kaur? is it a very commong last name?
MG, It's just an unusual transliteration of the standard last name "Kaur," which is given to Sikh women. I'm not exactly sure why she chose this transliteration rather than the standard one, but this is the way her name is always spelled in English.
Khushwant Singh is my all-time favorite Indian writer, Punjabi or not. His intellectual range covers glib but incisive commentories on people and practices as well as serious, textbook quality writing on Sikh religion.
Just last night I picked up "India," a little book of essays he wrote almost fifty years ago. His observations still seem current and relevant.
>>>>MG, It's just an unusual transliteration of the standard last name "Kaur," which is given to Sikh
This is commonly seen in indian-origin names in the Carribean and Fiji. usally occurs when people immigrate to a foreign country, either to hide their identity or happens because they don't know how to spell it in english.
I've been a fan of Bhai Vir Singh - his works were romantic, but still inspiring in terms of its Sikhi. (And I'm not one for romance novels, either.) His book, Sundri, always got me hyped up when I was younger, and still does so. I read it quite a few times since that first time I was forced to for the Hemkunt Sahib speech competition. :)
I would like to see more modern Punjabi authors though and have a chance to bring their works more into the mainstream.
Busy as Amardeep is with book writing and blogging at two sites, I am not sure if he checks his other blog regularly. I will copy a comment I left at the "quieter" blog.
I read "Pebbles.." many years ago and have forgotten much of the details. I do remember however, the heart rending description of how helpless and emotionally bereft Ms Caur became when her younger daughter lay dying and eventually died in Paris. Her grief had an exhausting quality to it and I don't mean it in a bad way. I remember thinking that if I as a stranger, felt so wrung out by her all consuming sorrow at the loss of a daughter, how did her other living daughter feel? That daughter, Arpana Cour is a well known artist. Her work is very good but quite gloomy.
I wish you would do a post or just comment on this very aspect of Punjabi writing. The childlike (not childish) style of expressing overwhelming emotions - be it love or grief. There is almost a performative quality to it which is not to say that the emotions are not genuine. For example, Amrita Pritam's lament for Sahir Ludhianvi startled me when I first read her book at the age of 18 or 19 - an age when I took much more kindly to excessive hyperbole than I do now. Yet in spite of wearing their hearts on their sleeves, at their core, these women were very strong willed, independent women - far from being shrinking violets.
I don't know if I have made myself quite clear but it is a contradiction that baffles me about Punjabi writing and to some extent, Punjabi social customs.
Ruchira Paul,
You start by talking about Punjabi writing but add the word "custom" at the end. Can you expand on that? Because that is not a literary matter (more of an anthropological?)
I used to like Khushwant Singh, until he lost his mind and wrote a mean-spirited, petty and flimsy piece on Amrita Pritam after she died. I don't think he is the best Sikh writer by any means. I don't consider him a very serious writer either.
I remember reading 'Chitta Lahoo'(white blood) by Nanak Singh...now, he is a master.
PS: There are Sikh writers not mentioned thus far, but I'll have to be selfish about that, because I plan on translating two of them in the near future!
I think I remember reading how Arpana and her mother were surrounded by a mob in 1984 in their car and barely escaped with their lives. Added to that the ancestral memories of partition passed to her by her mother, by all accounts a tough childhood with a family life described as being full of 'hatred', and the trauma of her sisters violent death, and you get a sense of how and why her art may be shaded. I remember seeing some deeply affecting paintings of Guru Nanak that she made, which I can't find online at present.
Rajinder Singh Bedi was one of the most important Urdu novelists of the last century.
I knew I was going to get into some trouble by adding "custom" at the end of my comment. But I did it after some consideration and not as a casual, thoughtless quip. Literature after all mines custom, culture and social anthropology for its inspiration.
I don't mean it in a derogatory sense. (Full disclosure: I am not a Punjabi but am married to one. That, and numerous close Punjabi friends since childhood; I know what I am talking about.) There is no doubt in my mind that public display of raw emotions is more acceptable in the Punjabi community - that is neither good nor bad, just different. Most other communities especially, Bengalis, south Indians and Maharashtrians tend to be more reserved. It may be compared to the difference between the stiff upper lip of northern European societies as compared to the more expressive Latin (or American) cultures.
Punjabis tend to wear their hearts on their sleeves more unselfconsciously, both in grief and in joy. Be it the exuberance of a Punjabi wedding (although I hear that ALL Indian weddings now model themselves on that template) or the grieving at a death watch, starkly overt expressions of emotions are acceptable.
Pali brings up the partition. Let me add something about that issue also. My own parents, came from the eastern half (Bengal) of partitioned India which saw far less violence than the western half, from which my husband's family comes. Both my husband and I wered born after independence but grew up in households with completely different attitudes and memories of the partition. My side of the family which lost far more in material wealth than did my husband's family, felt less torn about the partition and their loss than does my husband's father. My parents were able to make reasonable lives for themselves in India and went about their business more or less in a forward looking manner. They talked to us about the partition in terms of history, politics and mostly the perfidy of the British in bringing it about.
But my father in law, who too did well for himself, had seen incredible violence as a young man escaping with his family. He is much more sentimental about his erstwhile home and bears a far greater sense of betrayal. His account of the loss vacillates between regret, fear and doubt. He is an acclaimed Urdu author who writes with Punjabi sensibilities. The bulk of his work relates to the partition experience - sometimes critical, sometimes sad and always nostalgic. And very, very emotional - I detect the same sense of "wailing" sorrow in his work as I did in Ajeet Cour's. Unlike my parents who too dearly loved and missed the city they grew up in, my in-laws have gone back several times to Pakistan to visit their old home, neighborhood, college and friends. Without appearing to be judgemental or harsh, I have to say that it sometimes seems a bit like wallowing in a wrenching past experience one doesn't let go of for either emotional or literary reasons. Or perhaps, victims and witnesses of extreme violence tend to react in this bipolar manner.
Ajeet Cour's extraordinary grieving expressed in very, very raw terms took me aback. I felt bad for Arpana Cour whom I consider a talented and sensitive artist - in case that was not made clear. I have a younger sister also. I remember thinking that if my sister had died and mother had grieved in that manner, I probably would have taken my mother's hand and said, "Mother, look at me. I am your other child who needs your love. And I am alive!"
Another noteworthy Punjabi writer of our times is Dr. Dalip Kaur Tiwana.. Her writings are very close to Punjabiat, the rural Punjabi lifestyle, the culture and traditions.
Urvashi Butalia, who wrote The Other Side of Silence: Voices from the Partition of India, is also an amazing Punjabi writer. Khushwant Singh has written some great material re: 1984 and Partition as well, in addition to short, interesting stories.
Problem:
Response:
Self-refutation:
So the problem was obviously lack of exposure, not quality. My interest is this--what's the reason why people aren't exposed to Punjabi and Sikh writers more frequently? I remember having a professor of history in undergrad who was really resentful that so much Bong stuff was covered by South Asianists--in her view, to the detriment of other areas. So I tend to view this as a general problem among those areas that aren't focused on in all kinds of fields--why does this tend to happen?
One of the best books I have read on the partition, or generally is 'The train to Pakistan' by Khushwant Singh. Slightly off topic, but for those who have read 'The train..' or are interested in the partition should check out 'Toba Tek Singh'.
Btw, been lurking for a while now.. SM does keep me entertained. Its good to see what occupies fellow post-colonials across the pond.
Surely the late Amrita Pritam has to figure pretty highly as well. There's a poem she wrote that I can't find the name of but its been put to music and is the opening song for the film Pinjar - a rather morose and melodramatic adaptation of her book of the same name, directed by Dr.Chandraprakash Dwivedi and starring Urmila as Lajjo. Might anyone know the name - its a lament to Bulle Shah about punjab during/post partition. Does Sahir Ludhianvi figure at all...and what of Bulle Shah's 'Heer'....and I really dont know if anyone might agree but there is a rapper in Cali somwhere (I think) called Bohemia who raps in Punjabi - his song Kali Denali is fairly interesting...a bit random but would ber interested to know what others think.
Amardeep - my booklist is much happier, thanks to you. :-)
Saurav:
That's a good question. The short answer is, I don't know. It might be that there simply hasn't been a towering literary figure -- a Punjabi Tagore -- who has given the region an international profile. The most familiar name is Khushwant Singh, and he isn't "serious."
Or it may have something to do with what Ruchira is saying: the topics chosen by the authors of the partition generation is somewhat limited, and everyone seems to be traumatized by life in independent India. And with the Sikh community in particular, there is such a sense of division and acrimony about the recent past (the 1980s) that the documentary role of the writer -- making meaning out of recent history -- is going to be a particularly thankless task.
Whatever the case, I *don't* think it's some kind of Bengali intellectual conspiracy!
Another concern I have is that I don't know of any younger writers who are working in Punjabi. Everyone I know of is over 60! It might be that I simply haven't been exposed to the younger generation, sitting as I am in Philadelphia. Or perhaps ambitious younger writers based in Punjab (like Rupa Bajwa) are writing in English. That doesn't bother me too much: as long as authors keep it real.
Vivgirl, is the poem you're thinking of "Waris Shah Nu"?
And Megha, I wrote a bit about Urvashi Butalia on my personal blog a couple of years ago. I'm a big fan of "The Other Side of Silence," which I've taught in *literature* classes.
"what's the reason why people aren't exposed to Punjabi and Sikh writers more frequently?"
I agree with Amardeep there has been no towering literary figure like Tagore in Punjabi literature. I would also add to his comment about the "topics chosen by the authors", a generation of writers almost wasted there talent writing about socialist Ideology in the late sixties and the early seventies. I call it a waste as they chose a theme already beaten to death and none of those writers had anything new to offer.
"Surjeet Paattar", a poet, stands tall among the current writers.
One thing is for sure, there is a tremendous hunger among oridnary punjabi's for good punjabi literature.
Amardeep:
It SHOULD bother you that younger Punjabi writers are opting for English. What is the future of the Punjabi language? I understand that you are a 2nd-gen (as am I) but why wouldn't you care about the slow death of your language? Agreed that there's nothing you can do about it one way or another.
Amitabh
Why do you think that Punjabi is undergoing a 'slow death'? This is a little overstated. Punjabi is vibrant and alive - in popular culture and as HM points out, in literature too and through the Sikh religion, as a spiritual language as well.
As to the question of writers from a Punjabi background choosing to write in English - this is part of a debate that affects all writers in India and the question has been posed about whether Hindi, Urdu, Bengali, Tamil etc etc are also 'dying a slow death' because of this. But the debate is not really helped by the overstating of the issues, as if Punjabi is a beleagured maiden at risk from the predatory English language.
Nice post Amardeep,thanks.
A few points I would like to make,
1.All vernacular languages in India are dying a slow death literature wise but Punjabi literature does seem to have taken a worse hit.Sale of a few(like 2-3) thousand copies of any literary work in Punjabi is considered a success ,so much different than Bengal or Tamilnadu or even Gujarat.The causes I think are manyfold;
a) the parition and the political divison of the punjabi speaking community.culturally,muslim punjabis were the nobility and (presumably) culturally more refined than the agrarian and rustic sikh punjabis.with the parition,the music and the dance of the rustic community flourished in india whereas the urdu-punjabi tussel in Pakistan stymied the growth of Punjabi literature there.
b) the RSS inspired movement for the divison of Punjab which forced many Punjabi speaking Hindu families 'disown' the Punjabi in favor of Hindi.I think that is a very underappreciated factor.
c)the gradual erosion of the urban Punjabiyat.Back in the early twentieth(and the 19th and the 18th) century,this was the class which pioneered the Punjabi literature.
2.There are so many excellent Punjabi writers I like to read but all in their 60's .Hardly see any work form 30-40 something Punjabi writers.
3.Shiv Kumar Batalvi I think had the capacity to become,well,not Pnjabi Tagore but Punjabi Faiz maybe.He was a cult figure and had a charisma which I think wouild have inspired many a Punjabi youth to literature had he lived another decade or two.His ealry demise was a blow.
Will like to ponder more over the 'expressive' nature of Punjabi literature/Punjabiyat later,
Thanks again
I think it's a serious dilemma facing South Asian writers, ie. whether to write in their native language or not. I am not sure what I think exactly. However, I remember my first experience with a hybridized text, by which I mean that it was written mostly in English but some parts were left in the language the author speaks. It was the first time that I could actually read and grasp the meaning of the second language, and the experience was more wholesome somehow. Discussing the book with friends, I realized that they had experienced the book differently not knowing what certain words meant, or the meanings of names, places, etc. It made me think that perhaps diasporic literature could be written that way, in a hybridized form so that it is more accessible to some than others. After all, it makes sense that I should understand and have more access to a culture that I hail from.
I think some examples of writers who do this kind of thing are Roy and Desai. Roy uses Malayalam unapologetically through out GofST. But ultimately, these are English novels. I just thought that perhaps there is a solution to this dilemma in their style of writing...?
nofixedadderess
Add the Khalistani tendencies who shot dead poets like Paash to your list for voicing opposition to their ideology and you have another reason for the decline of Punjabi literature.
You all should hear the song 'Punjabiye Zubane' by Gurdas Maan, written by Shiv Kumar Batalvi (you can hear it online if you go to www.apnaorg.com/, scroll down and click on the link 'Songs about Punjab, Punjabi, and Punjabiat'). In it, he conceptualises the language as being a beautiful young woman of his country, and addresses her directly. After a few verses praising her, he addresses her current plight. One verse says that 'in 1947, you suffered a stroke, and never got back on your feet again'. In another verse, he says 'by educating our sons in English, we have prepared your funeral pyre'. He also laments the denigrating attitude many today have towards the language, but consoles himself by saying 'when have crude and worthless people ever realised the value of anything?'
This is an eternal lament. A language as rich as Punjabi, from the brilliance and high tradition of Waaris Shah, to the demotic of folk songs, to the poetry of Shiv Kumar, the spiritual dimensions of Sikh hymns, the novels of Gurdial Singh amongst others; all of these things represent a great diversity of language, both oral and written. If the Punjabi novel is not in great shape right now, things will change. Languages adapt, and the conception of Punjabi as 'slowly dying' is alarmist and overstatement. These issues are not peculiar to Punjabi. There is a long and well worn debate on the relationship of the English novel to that of the regional Indian languages. Language and literatures exist in revival and decline - new writers and generations rise. It will be the same with the Punjabi novel too.
As you can see not all of us who write in Punjabi are over 60! Please see link.
Also some of us have been raised in the west and openly have the option to write in English if we choose to. I normally woould, but feel that this aspect has been ignored by us UK Born and Bred in favour of Bhangra. I thinkits time for writing and reading Punjabi now
http://www.mahapunjab.org/guest/rdhillon/index.html
Nanak Singh
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Nanak Singh (born Hans Raj, July 4, 1897 1971) is a poet, songwriter and novelist in the Punjabi language. His writing in support of India's independence movement forced the British to arrest him. While in prision, he published several novels which won him literary acclaim.
Nanak Singh[edit]
Biography
He was born to poor Hindu family in Jehlum district of Punjab, which is now in Pakistan. Due to poverty, he did not receive a formal education. He started his writing career at an early age writing verses on historical events. Later, Nanak Singh started to write devotional songs, encouraging Sikhs to join the Gurdwara Reform Movement. In 1918, he published his first book containing hymns in praise of the Sikh Gurus. This book sold more than a hundred thousand copies. [citation needed]
On April 13, 1919, British troops shot and killed over one thousand protestors in what became known as the Jallianwala Bagh massacre. Nanak Singh was present at the rally. Two of his friends were killed. This incident impelled Nanak Singh to write Khooni Visakhi, an epic poem that mocked colonial rule and unmasked the cruelty of the British Government. The British Government became extremely concerned about his provocative writing. They banned the book immediately and confiscated every copy of it. [citation needed]
Singh also participated in Indias independence struggle by joining the Akali movement. He began editing Akali papers. This also was noticed by the British Government. Singh was charged with participation in unlawful political activities and was sent to Borstal Jail, Lahore. He described the savagery and oppression of the British on peaceful Sikhs during the Guru Ka Bagh Morcha demonstration in his second book of poetry, Zakhmi Dil. It was published in January 1923 and was banned within two weeks.
Nanak Singh wrote novels while in jail. He wrote over 40,000 pages in long hand Gurmukhi (Punjabi) script. He was recognized with many awards, including Punjab's highest literary award in 1960. His great historical novel, Ik Mian Do Talwaran (One Sheath and Two Swords, 1959) won him Indias highest literary honour, the Sahitya Akademi Award in 1962.
He wrote the novel Pavitar Paapi (Saintly Sinner) in 1942. The novel became immensely popular and won him literary acclaim. It was translated into Hindi and several other Indian languages and was adapted into a film in 1968. Currently, the novel is in its 28th reprint in Punjabi. His grandson, Navdeep Singh Suri, translated the book into English.
Quoting the Tribune, Nanak Singh was the best selling novelist in India for thirty to forty years. He wrote over 50 books including novels and collection of short stories. He made significant contributions to various literary genres. For him character was the determination of incident and incident the illustration of character. His greatest contribution to Punjabi fiction is its secularisation. He depicted excerpts from contemporary life, cloaked with a veil of romantic idealism. [citation needed]
In his novel Chitta Lahu (White Blood), Nanak Singh writes, "It seems to imply that in the lifeblood of our society, red corpuscles have disappeared." Natasha Tolstoy, granddaughter of the world renowned novelist Leo Tolstoy, translated Nanak Singh's novel Chitta Lahu into Russian. She visited Nanak Singh in Amritsar to present the first copy of the translated novel to him.
Nanak Singh died in 1971.
Indian President Giani Zail Singh brought a copy of Khooni Visakhi to India from a museum in England.
His centenary was celebrated in 1997. In Singh's honour, Indias Prime Minister Inder Kumar Gujral released a postal stamp in 1998.
Retrieved from "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nanak_Singh"
Rupinder Singh:
Very impressed.
A critical point that many of you have missed is that a vast majority of Punjabi writers continue to write in their mother tongue. Part of their motivation is the years of attempted marginalization of Punjabi in Punjab by the government. I spent my teenage years in Punjab, and my father is a published punjabi writer himself. He is now involved with committed Punjabi writers who are writing in the US at this point in time. I think of Roy, Rushdie and several prolific writers from Bengal, who write in English, and the kind of access that gives them. So, the questions is, how many of us have actually read these works in Punjabi, to be able to judge their quality? Obviously, anyone writing in English in India has an edge. There can be no argument about that.
I do believe that the fame of Rushdie's and Roy's has marginalized writing in native languages in India to some extent. I recently read Rushdie's intro. to an anthology on South Asian writing where he claims that the best writing in India at the moment is in English. How would he know? It's part of my motivation for potentially translating some of the works.
In addition, for a state that was ravaged by(in part)government sponsored crimes against humanity, writing wasn't exactly on many minds. Many, like my father, left, so they could live...Where you can be "put away" for being a Sikh male between the ages of 16-50(roughly), the arts aren't exactly your obsession. It becomes an afterthought.
Finally, the writers most of you guys have talked about are not what I would desribe as contemporary Punjabi writing. But then again, the ones writing at this moment/recently are yet somewhat obscure and you probably won't find their books on Amazon.
Ruchira Paul,
I agree with the assertion that Punjabis tend to wear their heart on their sleeve. But, some of your observations (expressions of grief)only seem true for what I used to see in village folk in Punjab. It certainly doesn't encompass the urban population in Punjab or the Punjabi diaspora here, and certainly sounds stereotypical.
The militants didn't help things either my friend. Lets not forget that - the poet Paash and others were killed by them, and they contributed to the horrors. It was a dirty time.
Thank You Amitabh. KM I certainly am not quite in the position that your father is, as my first Punjabi manuscript is still being checked over in the UK. Once it is ready it should be available for all to judge for themselves. My motivations are also very diffrent from those whos parent language is Punjabi. I am trying to promote heritage beyound Bhangra in Western youth. Naturally my writing in Punjabi is as difficult for an englishman like me, as is writing in French for any other English man too. But I am determined to do it, as I think Dispora Literature can be done in the orginal Punjabi if one tried it. Why not write Sci Fi, Thriller and horror as well?
I agree that Rushdie should not make such rash statements. I would like to know if I am a strange occurance or whether others born in the west are attempting to write in Punjabi?
Jagtar,
Aha! Paash is the MAN! I love his poetry. Incidentally, I was with one of his friend's this weekend who was visiting my father, a fellow poet. Lots of anecdotes about their naxalite days.
I don't think I said that the militants were doing "good". But hey, they identified themselves as "militants". Not like the freaking Indian government who stabbed many in the back. And please, let's dig up how they became militants? And you know what, there was a time in my life when I, ME, wanted to help them. And that's saying something.
We will never know the whole truth about everything that happened in Punjab. But, that's just the kind of animal India is...
Rupinder
It would certainly be good if Punjabi novels were produced in a variety of genres! The question with diaspora Punjabi literature is would it have a wide readership amongst the Punjabis in the West or would it be more tailored for the Indian market? There must be interest in Punjab for a novel written in Punjabi about the British Punjabi experience, contemporary life for young British Indians.
I agree with you that Rushdie's dismissal of non English language Indian literature was very crass. There have been a number of rebuttals of him, I am sure that Professor Amardeep Singh would be able to comment or point to some essays on that issue.
A lot of interesting points being made here.
But I was reading the Wikipedia entry on Paash and I had a question: how many of you are reading in Shahmukhi? And: where did you learn it?
Well, yeah, if that makes a difference. They shot Paash dead, I doubt the identified themselves before doing that. Nevertheless, I don't want to have this debate. Dirty things happened. Lets stick to literature.
Thanks for this comment, KM (the entirety--not just this snippet, which I couldn't resist quoting). It's really interesting and cuts to the heart of a lot of interesting issues about nationalism and class and whatnot in the Indian state.
"I don't want to have this debate".
No problem.
"Lets stick to literature."
Often, politics and the conditions of geographic location bear upon literature, and help make sense of it. I was only interested in bringing up a particular slant to the issue we are discussing, not spitting out political rhetoric for the sake of debate.
And, I believe, it is the moderator who establishes the limits to discussion, if at all.
Amardeep:
I don't know where you can learn Shahmukhi. I don't know it myself. But I know that a lot of Paash's writings are available in Punjabi (maybe not on Amazon), if that's what you were referring to.
Paash, the amazing. His hard hitting poems are just wonderful. I wish he lived longer and I wish he saw the current changes in India and wrote about it. In my opinion his genious was burdened by the current socialist Ideology, I wonder what he would've felt after the Soviet Collapse. What he would've written?
I have a lot to say. Firstly I am presently in the last stages of correcting my manuscript, which will hopefully be available this summer in book form. A couple of years ago I went to a PAASH receital in Southall, which was organised by KC Mohan. Paash's siste was there also. It was amazing.
Since then I have swapped writing in English to writing ( attempting to) in Punjabi. The process included a journey into PunjabiLit. The best site for English speakres truly is apnaorg.com. It is a mine of information. However I am a prose writer in Punjabi ( I can do poetry in English, but that's because thatis my first language.), and discussing modern prose on their forum as been difficult due to their Poertry especially old Sufi poetry leaning. In regards to this, I thank you Jagtar for introducing me to this link. The process required me to teach myself Punjabi at home. Please see the 5abi link. This is a useful stating point.
I have noted mention of how to learn Shahmukhi. AGin I have included two apnaorg links for this which are useful.
see below.
I would like to know if in the UK there are others like me, who not only have a thirst for reading Punjabi but would also like to try and write in it? It is my intention to encourage those of us who can stillspeak Punjabi to try tp make use of the skill in this way. Maybe we can start PunjabiLit book clubs?
I am attampting to have my book exclusively published here and not in India. This is because the producers at Desi Radio have convinced me that I should not aim at India, who will not understand my UK framed Punjabi, but aim at UK Kids and encourage them to read and write. My book may even be average, but the point is to encourage all those who have sat GCSE in Punjabi or A Level to make use of it, and to this end Desi Radio even interviewed me earlier this year soly to convey this message.
It will be interesting to know if others out there have taken similiar steps or would like to.
http://www.apnaorg.com/gurmukhi/
http://www.apnaorg.com/shahmukhi/
http://www.5abi.com/5ratan/
Rupinder
Have you thought about contacting the conveners of GCSE Punjabi classes to take your work into schools?
dear Pali,
I can not assume my work is good enough for that. It is an idea the radio station wanted to pursue, but I woould not know where to begin. I might attaned the World Punjabi Conference in Leicester in July 6,7 and 8th. And I have been invited by the All Parliamnetary Panjabi Committee to attend one of their events there. Perhaps someone ther woould know whether this is a good option for me. But at the end of the day it depends upon the standard of what i have written.
Rupinder
Make contact with an established Punjabi novelist and seek mentoring from them. The conference in Leicester should be a good opportunity for you to make contacts.
KM:
Again, there is no attempt at stereotyping. I detest stereotypes of any variety. I was recalling actual eye witness events. In Delhi - in the homes of friends and neighbors. Many moons ago. None of the folks involved were uneducated rustics. As I said, there is nothing wrong with any of that. No judgemental commentary here. We Indian borns are too hung up on regional stereotypes, both in personal and popular culture. So I don't blame you for being suspicious of my account of my experience. Just want to assure you that it is a completely objective statement and I stand by it. I would also add that hearing me speak about certain Bengali customs and social traits, some of my friends and family have accused me of being "self hating."
I just looked up the Wikipedia entry about the poet called "Paash." Very attractive. The Naxalbari movement was raging in Bengal and to some extent in Punjab during my youth. I remember the upheaval and the role of the Congress government in quashing it very well. I do not read Punjabi. Is any anthology available in English (or even Hindi/ Hindustani) translation? If not on Amazon, in India?
KM, I assume you are a young person. I am surprised, quite pleasantly, that you speak passionately about social/governmental mischief and misconduct in India. It is rare nowadays to hear the younger generation admit to anything Indian other than Bollywood glamor or Thomas Friedmanesque shiny IT stories.
KM,
Many interesting points you make.....literature draws its juice from the society around it and yes,the last 20 years were in that sense not conducive.My grandad used to write in Punjabi and I remeber him telling me how post-partition ,most of his works were infused with a touch of sadness at the horrors of the Great Divide bit also hope and enthusiasm for a new beginning.
However,currently,the threat is not political but largely the changing socio-economic mores.I dont know if I am alone in percieving this but whenever I go back to India these days I feel such a spectacular lack of peace....everything and everybody around me seems so rushed and driven by mere consumerism.Even Houston seems serene compared the life back in the hometown.Books,literature,arts seem to be losing relevance to that society.
The state -sponsored genocide in itself a matter of a detailed discussion.All in all,the outwardly exuberance and the 'balle-balle' and the ever-smiling faces and the unbridled optimism should appear a bit incogrous given the four centuries of wars,sacrifices and persecution.I am getting tired of all the sadness just wonder if there is something the community doing wrong to invite the persecution.
Ruchira: "I am surprised, quite pleasantly, that you speak passionately about social/governmental mischief and misconduct in India. It is rare nowadays to hear the younger generation admit to anything Indian other than Bollywood glamor or Thomas Friedmanesque shiny IT stories."
I guess I am a product of my environment. I grew up in an not-so-affluent, but literary and politically very conscious household. And boy! all the stuff that went on in Panjab while I was growing up transformed me for good. I have no taste for bollywood or appreciation for the techno-glitter of the new India, that ignores millions. And Bollywood has been the opiate of the masses, barring the occasional art house type Indie film. I almost always find myself in the minority when I am critical of India, especially in the US. Honestly, politicaly speaking, America is not vastly superior either, but I'd take the political BS in America any day, over what I saw in India. Though increasingly, I find Canada quite attractive.
About the anthology in English, I can look into it for you, though I am not aware of any. I've read a few random English translations here and there.
NOFIXEDADDRESS: "Even Houston seems serene compared the life back in the hometown. Books,literature,arts seem to be losing relevance to that society."
oh so true and funny! But I won't be nostalgic. To some extent your comment about the arts applies to America as well.
Pali:
In reference to some of your posts upstream; I think your optimism regarding the health and vitality (and future viability) of Punjabi is unfounded. I don't think I'm being alarmist. I'm probably ahead of the curve somewhat, in the sense that what is apparent to me already will become apparent to sceptics in due time. If you look at the ground reality, you will find Punjabi's domain ever shrinking. When a language ceases to be transmitted to the young, it dies. That process is already well established in many families. As nofixedaddress noted, the pace of socio-economic change in India is startling. The craze for English has become an obsession on the part of parents eager for their kids to 'get ahead'. English-medium schools abound and are increasing all the time. Education in India has become a private enterprise, and government involvement in the form of public school education has largely collapsed. Anyone who can afford to, goes to an English-medium school. Those who can't, go to poorly-funded, poorly-taught, poorly-equipped Punjabi-medium government schools. The effects of this are already apparent. Go to Chandigarh, and see how many people in their 20s and teens would be able to have a decent Punjabi conversation with you. And the Punjabi that IS spoken, is quite watered-down and mixed with English and Hindi.
It doesn't take long for a language to die. It can happen in 2 generations if the necessary environment for it to flourish is missing. The Sicilian dialect was very strong 2 generations ago, and now among the young in Sicily, it barely exists. Many languages have gone into terminal decline. Look at Irish (Gaelic). Welsh. They are trying so hard to revive those languages now, but it is too little too late.
What I said about Punjabi applies to most if not all Indian languages. There are Bengali kids in Calcutta who speak poor Bengali, Maharashtrians in Mumbai who speak poor Marathi, I've met Gujaratis from Ahmedabad who actually spoke poor Gujarati. Without doubt there are people from Chennai who only speak basic Tamil. It is the inevitable result of English-medium education when carried out for enough generations. Where will your future Punjabi writers come from? They aren't learning the language.
I grant you that in villages thoughout India, people are still strong in their mother-tongue (not out of choice, it's just the circumstances they find themselves in). And maybe some future writers will still come from that pool. But with the changing OVERALL SITUATION in India (somehow I'm having trouble expressing myself in terms of all the ingredients that define that) Indian languages are not positioned to do well.
KM:
Thanks for the offer to find me a translation of Paash. Please leave me a message on my blog in case you locate something in the future. I usually don't look at the comments here. Unless Amardeep has posted something provocative and I decide to post an opinion.
My student days in Delhi University were during the turbulent 70s when the Vietnam era style protests, strikes, bandhs and gheraos were in full tempo. Combined with the increasingly violent Naxalite movement unfolding in parts of India, student politics was vibrant. And it was pure politics based on ideology - no communal odor to it. We were all political and acutely aware of the goings on. Everyone took sides. So I believe that many among my generation never became politically lazy, either in the US or in India. (My children think that we grew up in the best of times - rock n' roll, social turmoil and activism). You are right that the current situation in the US is dismal. I set up a blog in middle age only to vent my anger at Bush and his murderous brigade. Please visit if you have the time or the inclination - the link appears here. Strangely enough I have so far received very little hostile comments to my bitter criticism of US policies but anytime I say something even mildly critical of India, I seem to touch a few raw nerves even though mine is a small blog and does not deal with south Asian matters on a very regulare basis.
nofixedaddress: You in Houston? So am I. Mine is a fixed address though.
Sorry, KOLKATTA.
Um, there's a whole country named after the language. I think we'll be okay.
Yes Bangla language will do ok courtesy of Bangladesh, where the quality of English has actually deteriorated significantly over the decades (as it has in Pakistan). Bangladesh is economically and socially at a very different level than India, and has different forces at work (of course this is true of disparate regions within India itself, but Bangladesh probably falls outside of even that). In any case Bangla and Punjabi are in two different boats ( for example Punjabi in Pakistan is in HORRIBLE shape, literally being strangled by Urdu). Not all the desi languages are in EQUAL danger. My point about the admittedly select but not insignificant demographic in Kolkatta was just as an example that underscores the trends that are taking place across India. There will be a very large minority of urban-dwellers who will essentially be native English speakers in a generation or two. You can disagree with me, but I have no doubt.
This bit of narrative is especially for Prof Amandeep's critical perusal
In the post-partitioned Delhi, there once existed a shop in the Ajmal Khan Bazaar run by three brothers displaced from the Pothohar region of Punjab. The name of the shop was Fancy Store. One of the brothers who ran the shop was Amar Singh who happened to write extraordinary mystical love poetry in Punjabi. He committed suicide in the mid-1960s after falling in and subsequently failing in love with a Punjabi short-story writer. A collection of his poems was posthumously issued under the title: Eh Janam Tumhaare Lekhe (This Life to Your Account)
The fellow in question was reportedly a tall, handsome, soft-spoken and always impeccably dressed gentleman. He fell in love with this woman who eventually rose to be the sort of wordsmith that I suspect many a scholar like Amandeep (and why not!) come to admire immensely. Initially, this love was tumultous and was passionately reciprocated by the lady wordsmith. The poet in love wrote some of the finest love poems of that period but the businessman in him started almost totally ignoring a flourishing business. There was an unexpected slump and the business began to suffer hugely. The amorous relationship between the two writers also began to chart a different course and the destiny now turned fully against the poet. The lady began to recoil. She did not want to see him anymore. But the lover poet was quite foolishly dogged in his amoratic pursuits. Once when he was at the ladys house, she reproached him for speaking too much and threatened to cut his tongue at which the lover-poet went to her kitchen and took a knife and cut his tongue and handed it over to her. His tongue was stitched at the hospital but things did not improve as the lady wordsmith began to to spurn him even more resolutely.
Finally, one day at the residence of the lady in one of those increasingly traumatic and emotionally devastating encounters, the lady wordsmith in exasperation asked him to die at which the lover-poet consumed a fatal overdose of sleeping pills enough to kill an elephant. The poet-lover walked out of her house one last time got into an auto-rickshaw and on way to his house went into deep sleep from which he never recovered. It transpired subsequently transpired that the glass of water to gulp the pills down was actually handed over to him by the lady wordsmith in question.
These tragic and uncomplimentary events obviously do not figure in any biographies and are more often than not dismissed as mere trivia and an anti-woman flight of sordid imagination. Most writers live in self-congratulatory spaces and like most writers are narcissistically driven.
It is sad to read the logical and obvious points made about the failure of the transfer of language from one generation to the other. This implies that perhaps I am wasting my time writing in Punjabi (given that it is not even my natural language), which wont be read by what I perceived was my target market. Perhaps I should just stick to writing in English? Then again in my own household I am trying to buck the tide as much as I can. This is hard, as we are second generation and can not but helps speak English to our children.
Nila Noor may be the one and only exercise in writing in my heritage language.
Yes Panini Ji, I take your point about me being a tad too Narcisstic, but trying to market or inform people of a book one is writing will always come across like that no?
Rupinder
The trouble is, your biggest audience would be in India. In the UK, it will always be hard to find an audience for Punjabi language novels especially amongst the youth. I think you should go to the conference in Leicester and discuss these issues with the writers there. But as it happens, I don't see why you can't write in English and Punjabi. Get an audience with writing in English about life for Punjabis in Britain, and then take the promotion of Punjabi forward from there. These are big and important themes you touch on. Speak to some novelists in the conference, get their opinion on it all.
Pali,
I appreciate what you are saying. I will try to make the effort to go, as I live quite far from the Midlands. Anyhow, I originally started Nila Noor as a novel telling people in India in their language (read one of) what UK Born Punjabis think. I know this is available in English already, but I have the impression, that the only image they have of the west is provided by the immigrant generation writing and their world view.
The idea of making the Diaspora the audience was the Radio stations. This is because my written Punjabi is grammatically English and written in the very basic way we speak it in the west. The radio had been told by UK born students of Punjabi that they found Punjabi books difficult to read because the structure was different and use of San , hun instead of see and hain did not help. Only at this stage I considered the Diaspora. I think I will begin by marketing myself to the Diaspora and if I generate enough income (Punjabi Publishing is self funded unlike English); will pay for the book to be published there.
This stream started with the introduction of Ajeet Cour. I have added Nanak Singh. Are there any others we should be aware of, especially contemporise. It would be nice for someone to share that with us.
Raindrops blown into a new River
By Rupe Dhillon
Punjabis as is well documented have been exploring new lands and settling since the time of the Raj. Those that settled in the UK from India and Pakistan in the sixties came to fulfil a need for the British. Local people were not willing to do certain tasks, mostly manual ones, and it was felt that members of the Empire could fulfil this gap.
Due to the Soldiers from the Indian army travelling to the west (especially during the war, where many found themselves in Brighton), stories of how wonderful the west was reached India. The other factor was economics. Again the sheer discrepancy in wages and the power of the pound sent back home, attracted many. Mostly those who were not educated enough locally to compete in the Indian and Pakistani market. Of course this is not completely true, as the west need Doctors (Indias doctors were to the same standard as UK ones), and many other educated people heard of the gold rush and wanted a part of it. Many sent money back home, as my parents did, improving the lot of those at home. This especially became true of Eastern Punjab, where the new money came at the same time as Punjab was itself going through the Green Revolution. The attention was to make a quick buck and return. Instead the first traunch did so, not having time to mingle with the locals (who were aggressive anyway) and living on rent.
However by the late sixties people started buying properties and soon brought their families over. During the late sixties and seventies the first generation of British Punjabis were born. At home they spoke Punjabi and ate Punjabi food. Outside they spoke English and mixed in with the indigenous population in the school playgrounds.
Enoch Powell had only wanted the educated Doctors, and feared that the voucher system had allowed in too many common Indians. He delivered his famous Rivers of Blood speech in Wolverhampton. The far Right took this as an excuse to lash out at the new outsiders. Our parents generation had to live through racial abuse, glass ceilings and alienation in a new culture. The result was ghettoisation. As all immigrants do, people settled near each other. These were the raindrops that had been blown into the new river of England. But for this generation at least, a thin layer of oil separated them from the local people. Mistrust on both sides existed. As most of the new comers were working class, they threatened the worst of locals who did not have the skills. The result was the rise of the National Front.
Despite this the Punjabis, Gujaratis and Bengalis settled in the towns with the greater economic advantage. For example many had settled in Ilford in the East End of London. A rich ex- Colonel who use to live in India wanted to use their labour ( he saw them as hard working) instead of the locals, and began transporting them to his factory daily, in the West End town of Southall. Soon people just settled here and many took up posts in the airport as well. It was the beginnings of a town which would be synomous with Punjabi. This also happened in Barking and Gravesend. Meanwhile the Pakistani community did likewise up North, mostly in Bradford. Overall Sikh Punjabis settled in Birmingham, Slough and London. The Muslim Punjabis were to be found in many working communities throughout the rest of England.
Thus the area where the new Punjabi generation was to grow up was mapped. In the early days they all stuck together because of the threat from far right groups. As time went by they became comfortable in their new found homes. This unfortunately meant much of the cameradie that existed before melted away, as they reflected the politics of back home, i.e. India VS Pakistan. The result was the second generation became polarised.
Those who were of Indian descent shouted about Sikhism and Punjabyat the most. The West Punjabis became more emersed with Urdu and the Pakistani identity. The result was a battle on two fronts. One with the white racist, and the other amongst themselves.
The last unified stand was in Southall in 1979 when Indian and Pakistani youth joined forces with each other and took on 200 skinheads in bloody battle. Suddenly they were noticed.
This generation had grown up with racist taunts and tension, especially where there were less Asians. The term Asian came into usage to describe all easterners. They certainly had mixed feelings. Some totally rejected their Punjabi identity, whilst others barricaded themselves from the outside world. Strangely the pattern the community followed was similar to the Godfather movies. I.e. the parents spoke nothing but their original language with each other, never really having to use English. The second generation spoke a mix, whilst the third generation mainly English. The Indians began to mix with the advent of Thatcherisation, and did really well in the eighties. The Pakistani community became even more insular, and placed religion first. The result was that the Indian community began to westernise swiftly, forgetting all but the external aspects of their religion. The Pakistani community kept stronger ties with back home.
The hardest aspect of this period was for the second generation growing up. Who were they? Indian or British? They were angrier than their parents and took on the local racist face on, and also excelled in education and business. By the early nineties they had constructed a new inclusive image, the British Asian, superseding religious differences and using English as the common uniting language. The third generation grew up with this, and no longer felt threatened. At the same time western liberal ideas had pushed the far right aside in most areas. Bhangra was also accepted by the English as it became fashionable and mixed its sounds with western music. This was successfully exported back to India. In reverse the Indians had always had Mumbai cinema as well, so had not lost complete touch with their background. However as the parents had been busy working hard, traditional Literature and culture was not passed on. Only religion and Bollywood. As a result this became the only connection for the new generation.
By the late nineties integration seemed to have occurred. The raindrops from the east were now a part of the local water.
September the eleventh changed all that. Being Asian made everyone an enemy of the state. Paranoia set in, and the so called British Asians started differentiating amongst themselves. Everyone became self conscious. On a positive note the new generation suddenly had a thirst for its past. The Pakistani community leant Urdu and wore their identity with pride. The Sikhs wanted to learn Punjabi and pressed schools and parents to teach them. The result has been that the third generation can read and write better than their parents in these languages. However this must be kept in proportion, as only a minority of the Sikhs are taking up Punjabi, and Muslims are fully concentrating on Urdu.
The real negative consequence was the rise of the far right, and the sudden realisation that the Pakistani community had remained insular. A clash began between the victimised Muslims and the far right. That is an altogether different issue.
Punjabi pride is returning amongst the new generation; however it has different shades and a different path then that of India and Pakistan. Many of the old beliefs were brought over by the parents, and these have stayed. Pakistan and India have moved on and in fact ahead of the beliefs of the immigrants. Religious loyalties are stronger than cultural ones. Bollywood and Rap music had a greater influence than Heer Ranjha. People dont know about these things unless they inquire about them. The result is that the new generation of British Asians have been absorbed in the local river, but still inwardly yearn for their heritage, but not in the same way as those in India and Pakistan. Where there has been a real yearning for heritage, they have put more effort in than their counterparts in India, who are becoming more westernised.
The greatest preserve has been the language in its spoken form, presently Punjabi being the second language of the UK. This is not likely to last, as the new ideas from the Indian Subcontinent mix in with the new feelings of the western youth, who are more militant as regards their religions. But as regards their heritage language, they are forgetting this. Punjabi is spoken in a purer form in the UK currently than in India. But the next generation only understand English, and will probably even turn their back on Bollywood. What will remain are the differences in skin tone from everyone and the side effects of September 11th and July 7th.
Religion will be given priority over language and culture. Eventually this may be rejected by those who want to integrate in western society and not be ostracised for being different. Thus Jinnahs words will ring true. Place me (the raindrop) into the well of water (The UK) and of course I am going to become part of the water
If the western youth are not taught about their language heritage now, then even in the west Punjabi could die out.
Nice article Rupinder. Especially on the history and struggles of Punjabis in England.
Rupinder, one thought on a marketing strategy for you. In the U.S. there has been a rapid growth in what are called "SAT novels," that is, novels that are specially written to contain vocabulary words that high school students will encounter on their college entrance exams.
You may consider thinking of your novel as partly an educational exercise. Publish it in Punjabi in the front and English translation (in a smaller font) in the back. And put definitions of the few of the more difficult Punjabi words you're using in bold on the bottom of each page.
Instead of marketing it as simply a Punjabi novel, you could market it as a novel for people who know *some* Punjabi, and want to improve their Punjabi reading skills.
I'm sure a lot of Gurdwaras -- where they are desperate for kids to learn Punjabi -- would buy dozens of copies each. And from there the word would spread.
Great idea Amardeep. It could also be marketed to schools and colleges who do Punjabi GCSE examinations. You can at least get your work out there. You should write journalism too. That article gives an excellent overview of Punjabis in Britain and deserves a wider readership. On the one hand promote Punjabi as a language, on the other write to get an audience in English. Think creatively.
My confidence in Punjabi has almost been shattered by a particular individual, nd it has been said that my English, along with others from the west, is not on par with the individual who said this. You need only go on the discussion forum on www.apnaorg.com to see this. SO I am uncertain about my writing abilities.
I suppose in the long run I could use my new found skill just to translate Punjabi novels into English. Re Amardeep's idea. This is good, but as it has taken me 4 years , burning the midnight oil, just to write it in Punjabi, I am not in the position right now of putting the effort in of translating it into English. May be in the future.
I am correcting the last 50 pages ( painfully slowly at 1 page a night) after which it will be proof read by a Punjabi speaker. Then hopefully published. Amardeep, did you get the chance to read my Nila Noor Extracts? What did you think?
By the way what do people think of Jaswant Singh Kanwal? I am reading his Aeeonia'chon Uto Surrmay at the moment.
Just to clarify, I didn't mean you should tranlate other people's Punjabi novels -- I meant, provide a translation of your own Nila Noor in the same volume where you have the original in Punjabi.
Don't stress too much over criticism on an internet forum. As we on SM have had to learn the hard way, no matter what you do people will criticize you.
And no I haven't read the Nila Noor extracts yet -- but I will try them soon.
Hi,
This started off as an interesting section. It is nice to see that someone in the west is trying to do something in Punjabi, but you seem a little uncomfortable with it. I cant believe you are the only one, as Gurdwaras everywhere teach Punjabi.
Anyhow if people are interested in Punjabi Literature there are some good websites such as Punjabilit.com and apnaorg.com. If people want to buy Books there is a specialist retailer thepunjabi.com.
I think Kanwal was a Political Writer, and one of the best. Most Punjabi Literature relates to such themes, especially Naxolite and Romantic. Ajeet Cour is good, but people should check out Tiwana as well.
I look forward to see if this Neela Noor adds up to anything. Whens it out?
It is a shame Ajit only concentrated on the daughter who was dying. The living needed support also...
Amardeep did you get my extract from the first few pages of my novel?
One of my favorites is a wonderful Punjabi poet, Navtej Bharati, from London, Ontario. He is sort of a mentor/inspiration to me, for lack of a better word. He's published quite a bit of poetry and received several awards. The few times that I have met him, I can say that he is a rare human being, and immensely talented. I cannot wait to bring some of his works to the English speaking world.
His brother, Ajmer Rode, is a good writer as well, and is based in Vancouver.
guys theres alot id like to say so excuse me for the legnth of this:
so, mr blog person, you didnt even know about punjabi literature yet you saw yourself fit to give a talk on it? so you quicly read some and then went down and gave a talk (as some kind of expert?)
rachira pual, very well that you noticed the "There is almost a performative quality to it which is not to say that the emotions are not genuine." you are too kind, probably just being culturally sensitive, so i will say it for you. Yes most modern punjabi lit is sentimental rubbish. and yes its so exaggerated. i think north indian culture in general is exaggerated- as evidenced by bollywood. theres no excuse for it its just bad art. me thinks some people try to hard to be genuine when infact they are false. dont however, confuse these with punjabi customs, which they do not represent! although i do understand what you mean about punjabi customs being more 'direct' and less about decorum than some other indian cultures. i remember reading a hymn by Guru Nanak where he refers to God as 'tu'- which is the very informal, and direct pronoun from- it was quite a shock (punjabi speakers will know what i mean, i mean you're not even supposed to refer to those you respect as 'tu').
km, "I used to like Khushwant Singh, until he lost his mind and wrote a mean-spirited, petty and flimsy piece on Amrita Pritam after she died." Why? this is the exacting brilliance of Kushwant Singh, his boldness. its a pity he never took himself serious, God knows he had the potential and if he did he would have been noble prize material. look at the times the guy lived through.
His piece on Amrita Pritam was honest, unlike all the exaggerated crap that people started saying about her post-humous. people were trying to apotheosize her- int the typical indian fashion. he pointed out her flaws and narcissism.
Panini Pothoharvi:
OK, I admit, I have no idea who you are talking about. WHO was the woman that Amar Singh was so crazy about?
Trilochan,
I am a student of critical theory. I don't shy away from criticism simply because I like someone's writing. But, Khushwant Singh's piece was poorly written. He did not support any of his conclusions. Infact, as far as I remember, he said something about how the only reason she made any impact at all was because she was beautiful. It's a ludicrous assertion at best.
Because someone uses flamboyant words and acts courageous through their use of language, does not add any weight to their reasoning and logic, or enhance the merit of their line of argument.
And, infact, there is more to this because of his private politics with Ajeet Cour and Pritam herself, which frankly, I could care less about.
And I'd love to hear about the books you consider "modern punjabi sentimental rubbish?"
Dear Amitabh,
I wish I could name this very famous much of her fame being purely manipulated woman writer but I wont for fear of inviting the charge of a libel being filed against me. But with a little intelligence you can, I am sure, figure out who she is.
But of course, Amar Singh was a real poet of great promise. He did commit suicide in deep dejection and in this he was most definitely egged on by this prima donna of Punjabi lit. He reminds me a lot of the Russian poet from the 20s Sergei Aleksandrovich Yesenin who died very young and of the eccentric Dutch painter Vincent Van Gogh who chopped off his ear, went through bouts of depression and eventually chose his own death. For the kind of passion with which he alighted the scene of Punjabi poetry, he was incredibly moving, this Amar Singh. He wrote in blank verse and was unquestionably more intense than Shiv Kumar Batalvi.
But you may also read this bizarre account as pure fiction.
Trilochan if he indeed is the former Punjabi poet goes predictably off tangent. His certificate of merit to Khushwant Singh is, to put it mildly, laughable. Khushwant Singh winning the Nobel would certainly have happened in an age where the canonical notions of excellence have been completely thrown to the winds. If VS Naipaul can win one, anyone can.
Trilochans views on Bollywood are absurd. There is no way we can treat this area of cultural texts lightly without being a little soft in the upper chambers. This resistance to popular culture is peurile and ideologically regressive.
Dear KM,
Maybe what you say about Navtej Bharti and Ajmer Rode is right. I haven't read their work with the sort of care one needs to judge great works of creative excellence. But I have read a lot of contemporary Punjabi poetry and, in my humble opinion, the greatest living poet of the language is one London-based stand-offish and hard to please Amarjit Chandan. He is way way ahead of the much feted Paash and Paattar. His prose-writing is even more profoundly moving. It is because of literatteurs like him that Punjabi literature can hold its own against the finest writing of the world.
Trilochan, I am not claiming to be an expert. I was invited to give a talk by a serious Sikh Studies scholar, so I did research and I did my best. The paper was well-received; among the audience members was Pashaura Singh.
My goal here on this blog is to share whatever knowledge I have in case readers find it interesting. I don't hold my credentials up as a qualification -- though as a professor of literature I do have credentials -- and I don't think you should hold what you perceive as my lack of them against me. Evaluate what I have said, not my background.
What do you think of Ajeet Cour? I think her story "Returning Home" (which I quoted from above) is magnificent.
Panini Pothoharvi,
Chandan is a good writer, from what I have heard from my father and other Punjabi writers I have met, who also happen to know him personally. I haven't read any of his works thus far. Which do you recommend I read?
those of you in the know should seriously consider holding kavi darbars in various locations. its been very interesting to learn about recent punjabi authors
Link
http://www.sikhspectrum.com/052006/chenab/1.htm
How about talking about established writers rather than a work in progress serial posting here? It seems Amandeep Chandan is the best in the UK, so too late Rupinder! Mind you your pushing yourself down our throats as first British Born. Who is the First US or Canada born Punjabi Writer?
And Panini what are you on about?