Description
The scope of English Studies is constantly expanding, and it now encompasses virtually anything that can be grouped under the overarching headings of language, literature, and cultural studies. Since we live in an age of multidisciplinary, no research can be said to be solely associated with a single field. The reader should expect to find four key strands of work contained inside this book. These four sections are titled as Reading in Postcolonialism and Translation, Communalism and Indian Novels, Readings in Gujarati Literature and Language and Semiotics.
The first article is a critique of Chinua Achebe’s select writings for the purpose of evaluating his participation with the aim of ‘decolonization.’ The argument made in this essay is that Chinua Achebe does not have a sufficient modus operandi for decolonization; rather, he just has concepts. There are concepts that may be found in Achebe’s literary and non-fictional prose works that, on one level, may appear inconsistent and contradictory, but, on another level, reveal profound structural, dialectical regularities and unities. Although his much-discussed novels depict the process and products of colonization in Africa, the author is given permission, through his essays, to have a dialogue with the western tyranny, both literary and non-literary, of misrepresentation. This is the case despite the fact that his novels have received much attention. Achebe’s works, in many respects, demonstrate the issue that exists in postcolonial nations about the process of reestablishing character and cultural identity via the celebration of indigenous traditions.
In the second article, readers will discover a debate on how Indian critics have involved themselves with the goal of decolonization. This topic will be presented to readers in the form of a dialogue. As long as one is conscious of the intellectual subordination and is motivated to end it, there has been some type of struggle against it among the intellectuals. Postcolonial history has been chronicling an ongoing debate on whether or not English should be utilised as a medium for both creative and critical expressions in order to acquire a better understanding of the vital relationship that exists between colonizers and colonized people. Not just on our educational system and Indian culture, but also on the manner in which the Indian mind functions itself, there have been attempts made to track and measure the impact that the English language has had. We are going to delve deeper into this topic, but for the time being, we are going to try to discuss the various dynamics of encounters that contemporary scholars in India have had with our own practise of using English (read as: British) means of “educating” Indians and how we have been producing and promoting indigenous Macaulays in the country. We will continue to investigate this issue further. During our critique on the pursuits of decolonization/s I have tried to take a close look at (i) various models of decolonization, (ii) problems of ‘decolonization as an institutionalized endeavour, and (iii) post-decolonization education.
Due to the fact that I am now working in the field of translation historiography, I figured it would be a good idea to write an introduction paper on the history of translation as it relates to Indian literature. The history of translation incorporates not only the history of reading but also the history of the political mapping of the world. Is there any way for us to comprehend the conversation that took place between the translators and the historical setting? The study of history tends to simplify acts of translation by treating them as though they are nothing more than actors of historical discourse. On the other hand, the study contends that the situation is really inverted, and that these translations make up the entire spectrum of historical narratives. Without translations, we simply cannot have any kind of full history. For example, early English translations of Indian writings originally written in English by the Asiatic Society were of great assistance to the endeavour of colonialism in many different ways. As a result, it was not an investigation into epistemology but rather a plan for imperial expansion. As AK Singh rightly points out that translation “helps in democratization of knowledge.” (Singh: 2014) The political duties, ideological commitments, and some form of opportunism that plague modern translators also plagued their ancient counterparts, who also served as translators. As a result, the paper is separated into two sections: (I) A Brief Survey of History of Translation of Literatures in India and (II) A Proposed Model for Translation Historiography.
Deconstructing the way in which we understand the novel Siddharatha is the subject of the fourth essay that can be found in this section. As the essay argues, it appears that Siddhartha, while dressed as an “Indian” (a stereotype of rich Spiritual and Philosophical heritage), actually propagates not only Protestant Christian Ideology but also a typical Western-rationalist approach (trial-error) to spirituality. This is because Siddhartha promotes a “trial-error” approach to spirituality. Siddhartha is an excellent example of the Bildungsroman, which is also known as the novel of education. However, a structuralist reading reveals to us the Jungian concept of “archetype” along with many other narratives that are very similar, which disproves the notion that Siddhartha is an exceptional or noble novel. The reason for this is that the article attempts to look at the fundamental typology of literary India and conceptions of spirituality as they are portrayed in Siddhartha. It also analyses the potential of how everything becomes meaningful when positioned in Indian “space.”
The last article defends Gandhi’s approach to the translation process. One must ponder why the term “passive resistance,” which is the English translation of the Sanskrit term Satyagraha, has such an off-putting ring to it and why Gandhi did not challenge its legitimacy. And why does the term “Swaraj” seem more enticing than “Independence” or “Freedom” in the sense of colonialism and nationalism? These are not just questions pertaining to the language being translated, but also to the direction(s) in which the translation will take place. The profound sense of weighing that Gandhi exhibited while translating English into Gujarati and vice versa is where the answers to these issues may be discovered. It is well knowledge that Gandhi saw translation as a weapon that could be used to inculcate a feeling of “nationalism” (in the broadest possible sense) in the minds of the people of the time. His translation procedures, in which he chose an Indian manner of transition known as Anuvad, which conveys a larger feeling of an exchange and a conversation, are also a reflection of his view that the purity of the means must be perfectly blended with the purity of the final purpose. A conversation that he held with the oppressor (British) and with the oppressed (both Indians and Africans), on the one hand, and with the oppressor (British) on the other side, got culminated into his whole philosophy of cooperative living. It goes without saying that Gandhi created a distinctive register, one that is now awaiting critical investigation; hence, in the wider context of (translation) history, he has not yet been appropriately analyzed as a translator in action.
It was during this time in India’s history that a significant engagement with the West took place on a variety of subjects, including culture, philosophy, politics, and other topics related to these areas. Gandhi’s role in the collective memory of translation in India is substantial because of this strong engagement, which took place at this time. As a result of this, it is essential to review Gandhi’s discourses through rereading his translations in order to obtain a more in-depth comprehension of the larger historical background. Since Gandhi was more interested with “the truth” of the words than with their beauty, he made no effort at all to cater his English translations to the tastes of English gentlemen. This is because Gandhi was more preoccupied with “the truth” of the words than with their beauty. As an unremitting translator, Gandhi did anuvad of Socrates’ Apology (tr. as “The Soldier of Truth”), Tolstoy’s The Kingdom of God is Within You, A Letter to a Hindoo, Thoreau’s On Civil Disobedience (tr. as “The Duty of Disobeying Laws”); and John Ruskin’s Unto This Last (tr. as “Sarvodaya”,) his own Hind Swaraj into English. Aside from that, he also wrote a commentary of the Bhagvad Gita, which is a new interpretation of a text and also an act of anuvad (not translation in the purist Western sense) that he performed in order to reiterate the infallibility of nonviolence during the state of war with the British. He did this in order to further his cause. The paper tries to examine (a) Gandhi’s translation practices as the prolongation of the Indian intellectual tradition of discourse, dialogue and translation and (b) the fortunate untranslatability of Gandhian terms.
In the next section, you will read an excerpt from my dissertation that focuses on the relationship between communalism and Indian literature. The very first article focuses on reconstructing the historical origins of Indian novelists’ representations of communalism from the beginning. Literature is better able to make sense when viewed in the context of a certain socio-political backdrop, or context, which is both the cause and the location for the development of the text itself. In the framework of political categories such as “communism” and “violence,” it is only natural to historicize these concepts within the context of literary canons. It would make it possible for us to have a deeper understanding of the basic roots and pathways that lead to the issue of communal violence in general, and its portrayal in Indian literature in particular. It is impossible to determine if the depiction of “communism” in literature first appeared in written form as a “ism”! From the time of the colonial era right up till the present day, however, there has always been a conversation going on between communal disturbances and literature. The paper is divided into three parts: I) Communal violence and Literature: The Colonial Character, II) Communal Violence and Indian Novel: Partition Colour and III) Communal Violence and Indian Novels: Post 1970 Change.
What exactly does the term “sacred space” refer to, and how is it connected to the violence that occurs during community riots? The term “sacred” refers, in general, to something that is revered as holy and to have a unique relationship with God; it can also refer to something that is associated with religion or that is utilised in religious rituals. In addition, one might say that something is “sacred” when they believe that it is of insufficient importance to be altered or disrupted in any way. The second article will investigate the connection that exists between our shared conception of the holy and the violence that occurs in our communities. “Sacred space” refers to the most significant locations within a certain religious group, such as places of pilgrimage, temples, mosques, and churches, among other similar buildings. If members of a religious community feel that their holy space has been invaded, insulted, or put in danger in any way, there is a good chance that conflict may arise in one form or another. The essay is built around five novels: Tamas (1972) by Bhishm Sahani, Curfew in the City (1988) by Vibhuti Narayan Rai, Lajja (1993) by Taslima Nasreen, Riot (2001) by Shashi Tharoor and Partitions (2004) by Kamleshwar.
The third thought-provoking piece takes a look at communism by analysing it within the framework of Foucault’s concept of heterotopia. Human geographers, who are often connected with the postmodernist movement, have used the word “heterotopia” to describe the current increase of diversity and identity as a key issue in larger multicultural cities. This word was coined by human geographers. In the framework of contemporary postmodern and poststructuralist conceptual discourse (and social action) in geographies and other spatial-social sciences, the idea of place as a heterotopic object has been receiving an increasing amount of attention in recent years. The issues of ethnicity and gender are more frequently linked to the concept of place, while the problem of social class is linked to it less frequently. Reading Indian novels about communal violence through the lens of Foucault’s notion of heterotopia opens up a number of different debates on topics such as the role of space in comprehending the dichotomy between the majority and the minority, the promises of secular space versus the success of religion-based nationalism, the manipulation of historical narratives, and the rise of fascism, to name just a few. The novels that we have talked about provide a critical analysis of the length and breadth of the possible range of space as an all-encompassing phenomenon in order to make more sense of communalism. One has to question whether heterotopias are constructed for communal activities, and if so, what about constructing a counterpart secular heterotopia (in the proper meaning of the term) in India in order to tame and halt “communal violence.”
A highly intriguing book called Curfew in the City is discussed in the last paper, which raises concerns about the function of law enforcement officers both during and after communal uprisings. Curfews are frequently enforced by the government in the aftermath of communal riots in an effort to bring the situation of communal violence under control. The English word “curfew” originates from the French phrase “couvre-feu,” which literally translates to “cover the fire.” It was the moment at which all lamps and candles had to be extinguished by blowing them out. It was then taken into Middle English as “curfeu,” which eventually evolved into the contemporary word “curfew”30. A signal or time after which individuals are required to remain inside is referred to as a curfew. In the context of the communalist climate that exists in India, the phrase “curfew” is not unfamiliar to the general population. Vibhuti Narayan Rai may say that they are “very used to it,” which is another way of saying that they are accustomed to it. The novel Curfew in the City examines the time and space of a ‘curfew’ that is placed on a certain community in order to exert control over their life in all aspects, including their culture, economy, relationships, females, and basic amenities, among other things. The novel is a literary work that was submitted by a police officer on the subject of what happens if curfews produce new forms and ways of community violence while trying to regulate it.
Reading works written in Gujarati has always been something I’ve enjoyed doing. Since quite some time ago, I have been translating texts both from Gujarati into English and from English into Gujarati. I have been focusing mostly on the translation of Dhruv Bhatt. The first piece discusses Dhruv Bhatt’s ethnographic methods as well as the influence such practices have had on his fictions. Within the context of this article, I will be reading his novel Akoopar from an anthropological perspective. In recent years, the academic community has witnessed a substantial shift in scholarly interests, which raises thought-provoking challenges surrounding the politics of representation, particularly that of a culture. In addition to scientific and factual forms of writing, modes of writing that are artistic and interpretive are also required for the accurate representation of a culture. Because of this, whether we read ethnographic reports of an area or an ethnographic book about that location, we notice that these narratives emphasise two distinct modes: one that is scientific, and the other that is fictitious and creative. Dhruv Bhatt is attempting to involve himself with the study of a variety of types of “culture critique” and “cultural poetics” through the medium of these three books. Steven Greenblatt coined the term “cultural poetics” (neo-Marxist, semiotic, deconstructive). On the other hand, because it is generally accepted that ethnographic writing constantly enacts politically and historically determined practises of exclusion and inclusion, an ethnographic novel likewise runs the risk of being mired in the politics of exclusion and inclusion.
The history of evolution in Gujarati theatre is fascinating to consider. The second article takes a look at how new women are portrayed in the five plays that are considered to be canonical. One does not and should not agree with Aristotle when he asserts that “female is female by virtue of a specific absence of attributes.” This is for the straightforward reason that our consciousness as thinking (human) beings does not enable us to subscribe to such a very reductionist and prejudiced value-judgment. When a play is written, it belongs to the writer; when it is directed, it belongs to the director; when the curtain rises, it belongs to the players; and when the curtain comes down, it belongs completely to the audience, consumers, and society as a whole. Play is the mimetic art of’showing,’ not the art of just delivering the tale, and this distinction is important. To put it another way, it is first and foremost a pictorial art, and only afterwards does it become a literary art. Since their inception, the performing arts have been recognised as providing a live stage upon which to “represent” the “humane behaviours and situations” of a particular culture. As a result of this, the theatrical space has become a type of fertile field for the interaction of women’s concerns with the society, which is controlled by males. This is because the theatrical space is a part of such an essential sociological process. In this very setting, Gujarati theatre from the post-independence era has to be reexamined. The acknowledgement of gender identity in Gujarati plays offers a new viewpoint on a topic that was hitherto regarded as the province of women’s imagination (or was simply taken for granted).
Once more, it is impossible to withstand the allure of reading some of Dhruv Bhatt’s previous writings. This article tries to investigate the author’s novel-travelogue Oceanside Blues by placing it in the context of a movement known as Nativism that was prevalent in India and Gujarat in the 1990s. In the Gujarati language, the movement was known as Parishkrutivaad. The publication of “Shityateel Deshiyata” by Bhalachandra Nimade in 1983 marked the beginning of the “Deshivad“-Nativist movement. The essay, which was first written in Marathi and then translated into English, not only introduced the concept of “nativism” to the field of Indian literary criticism but also opened up a new area of inquiry. The term Nativism can be simply defined as “a concept which has come to challenge the very idea of Eurocentric modernism and internationalism-the tendency to compare every text/trend with some Euro-American product” (Chaudhary, 23). People like Nimade and G. N. Devy are responsible for providing the movement within Indian literary criticism with a voice and giving it structure. This trend is less accepted by the academic discourse than it once was. It raises the question of whether or not it subscribes to any particular nationalist ideology. Yes, it does in a sense, but it is a deliberate one that does not accept Eurocentric authority as the primary source of information and ideas. Nevertheless, it is not a bling bragging of the cultural past; rather, it is an objective and intellectual interpretation of the past in order to, let’s say, de-colonize the Indian mentality.
Language and semiotics, two fascinating fields, are discussed in the book’s last chapter in their respective entireties. The first article offers a critical analysis of the dubious connections that might be drawn between language and violent behaviour. Language, or a lack of basic thinking and communicating skills, is the source of all types of violence that are manufactured by humans with the goal of destroying other humans. Or any act of violence may be rendered ineffective just via the use of language! The connotation of a vehement occurrence is more distressing than the performance of vehemence itself; it goes without saying that “meaning” is dependent on the presence of language. The desire for power and the need to compete in socioeconomic spheres have always remained the underpinnings of violence that is then channelled via language. On the one side, we have outright hate-speech that is inciting a significant amount of bloodshed, and on the other, we have symbolic and incredibly subtle patterns of language that are functioning as slow poison. In addition, the history of colonialism documents extended periods of exploitation across the world by means of linguistic imperialism. Therefore, it is necessary for us to investigate the multifaceted uses of language and violence.
The essay highlights several basic questions: What is the connection between violent language and language in general? Why does someone feel awful after they have been mistreated? Why do people who identify as White, Savarna, or Male discriminate against those who identify as Black, Dalit, or Female via their use of language? How on earth can a few of provocative statements result in acts of violence against religious or community groups? Is it possible that the phrase “pen is mightier than sword” refers to the fact that the violence generated by words is more severe than the violence caused by a sword?
An examination of the language of prejudice from a social semiotic point of view is presented in the final chapter of the book. Social stratification refers to the “hierarchical ranking of person into groups based on shared socio-economic” (in West) and socio-cultural (in countries like India) “conditions”. It is to “rank some individuals and groups as more deserving than others; from this a social hierarchy is formed which is a set of ranked statuses from highest to lowest…” which also includes “a condition of social inequalities in which people have unequal access to wealth, power and prestige; and social differentiation is a process in which people are set apart from different treatment by virtue of their statuses, roles, and other social characteristics” This study takes a look at the aspects of text, genre, discourse, and/or metaphors and analogies in an effort to examine and compare diverse socio-literary symbols (language) of social stratification, such as class, caste, status, and power.
In the novels To Kill a Mockingbird, Emma, and Untouchable, there are depictions of racial stratification, class consciousness, and caste-based stratification, each of which I have attempted to comprehend. As a result, the purpose of this article is to investigate social images, behaviours, settings, and designs with a particular focus on the ways in which signals interact with one another and the manner in which they may be or already are related to arrange our societies as they are now. The approach that is being taken here is one of looking via literature rather than directly at the subject.
When it comes down to it, I have to constantly telling myself that the definition of the term “essay” is “an attempt.” All of them are simple attempts that have been put together. If they manage to touch readers in any significant way, then I will consider the time I spent reading them to have been worthwhile.
While the publication of this book, I would like to showcase deep sense of gratitude towards all the people who have helped me in this journey. I also thank my family members for their constant support. Remembering my two sons, Tigmanshu and Tathagat for their innocence, love and affection.
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