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Comments posted by Aditya Dutta Roy
On
Total Failure
Touching piece. We rarely sit to think what goes on behind the scenes. Your work makes one sit back and think about the thoughts and feelings on as an interpreter.
The moral dilemma, of an honest truth or a white lie (in the other post), and the transience of life, our significance and outcome of every action of ours, were well brought out.
Sets one thinking about those philosophical questions which we tend to ignore to continue on our hassle-free life.
Keep up the good work, and I don't think that the posts are confusing. But, I guess you can give a prologue, that you speak as the interpreter so that they know whom to identify with.
On
Saare Jahan se Achaa...III
Hello Ajtor,
Really impressed by your writing and dedication to the spirit of the Armed Forces. Feel proud to be in the Air Force.. Actually made this decision when I was just about 6-7 I guess.. Never wanted to do anything else. With a rich tradition of the infantry, I kind of rebelled by joining the Air Force (ignored all the temptations of Silver pouches, my grandfather's medals, golf sets etc. which each of my uncles offered if I joined his unit (3/4 Gorkhas, 22 Punjab, 3 Guards ).. So here I am, wanting to be a helicopter pilot.
Keep writing and bringing greater cheer.
Aditya
On
With a kiss
Bunty, I thought you were a friend and wouldn't be so catty... And didn't know of your Bengali skills.. Anyway, one lives and learns..
By the way, I was just echoing the thoughts of many of my platonic friends, my friends' girlfriends and my sisters-in-law.. Everyone loves an idealist.. Waiting my turn to do the prince charming act and rescue some damsel from the draconian (???) boredom inflicted on their souls (not having met me - 'tongue in cheek')..
And Ajtor, thanks buddy.. You're really good for my ego.. Feel vindicated by each message of yours.. But I'd prefer you wouldn't be so sordid.. I mean, the tricolor and all is nice, but we prefer not to think about it.. Had an accident in my course already and believe you me, it is more tragic than romantic.. But yeah, proud to be here..
On
With a kiss
Hello Ajtor (is that like 'today yours'),
Anyway, thanks for the comment.. Did you watch Rang de Basanti by any
chance? Or active in the debate?? Thanks for the concern.. Wondered
whether you'd get back to check back on the comment, so decided to
message it directly as well.
Flying in the Indian Air Force has its own charm.. Some questions of
life have an easy answer.. No problems looking at myself in the mirror
while shaving.. Know that my life is not useless or selfish and get a
kick out of that as well. And when others realise it, oh the pleasure
of vindication.. Otherwise happy playing the martyr..
As far as girlfriends go.. Sob story here.. Guess too much of all guy
boarding schools, training establishments and a male dominated
profession, kind of hinders in that aspect.. Know that the girl would
be lucky but hold on, waiting for the right person to come along..
Cheers,
Aditya
On
My potato Guy
Quite a touching story.. Well written and meaningful in its message, even though it is understated..
The poor potato guy could have been any of us.. The ambiguity in your story whether he was just an accused or the real perpetrator, brings out a difficult question, of how our judicial and police network works.
Keep up the good work, will look out for more work from your ip address (just some geeky humour). You can return the favour by checking out and commenting on my blog.
BTW, the blog name is kinda unimaginative..
AD
On
Valentines Day Blues (Part #2)
Hola Rahul,
Have been following your blogs since quite some time. So you now know who the 322nd and 731st view was from. Guess I identify with the plight. Being in an all boys boarding school, and all guys training establishment- NDA, and in a job essentially all male-infested (the Indian Air Force), the girl department sort of eluded me. I mean I can hold my own in front of girls and my untying of my tongue doesn't take more than five minutes (last time I timed it at 3 and a half). However, I find myself accosted by females not too similar to what I imagined her to be (my "girl" - call her my beacon, cross ref. "Never been kissed").
So you should probably check my blog and pass a few encouraging words along the way. All I can say is wish girls had more sense, maybe us luckless romantics wouldn't have to write Haikus in our free time. I'm sure Sulekha will be kinder to you than Simone. At least you are in a more stable boat than me (even though we both have lost our sails).. You are in .... (some place where you have Speed dating and foreign girls- I'd venture US - OK, maybe I've not read all your posts ;-) and I'm in the far-eastern part of India (the postings come with the job). So my avenues are limited.. And my search goes on.
Keep up the good work..
As the french say "Merde" *,
AD
* colloq. they use the word to wish luck even though it has a different meaning altogether.
On
My experiences in Germany
Sorry that I'm being a bit of a spoilt-sport, but you wanted advice, well you got it.
It would be preferable if your posts were grammatically correct. Once you do log on to this literary community, it makes sense that you run a simple spell check and do actually preview your posts before sending them. Makes it slightly easier on the aesthetic eye.
All said and done, keep up on the writing. Good to hear that you're living it up in Germany. All the German I know is confined to Rammstein songs and Nazi ranks like Standantenfuhrer or Herr Kommandant.
On
My Daughter...my inspiration!
Hey Bunty(are you sure that's your name),
This comment is like a favour returned.. Nice articles.. all three of them.. the daughter one is touching as well...
Happy New Year (just 12:03 now)... And as far as boarding schools go.. I say, go ahead.. I've been to one.. Spent five years in d'dun away from my parents.. then 3 years of NDA..1 year of AFA and now setting off ... And I guess panchgani's good..my cousins were in Billimoria..
These years in a boarding school really taught me a lot.. Independence for one.. also developed me overall.. debating, quizzing and other co-curricular stuff, adventure activities, and loads about life as well. also helps to appreciate home so much more.. So don't cave in to the pressure..
And if you want to mail me 'coz I'd like some intelligent mailing once in a while, just do so on adroy7@yahoo.com or else send me a mailing id..
Au revoir,
Aditya
On
(1945)
The stuff of classics - Wodehouse
Hey Vidya, I don't know how big a fan are you but you may be keen on reading this about him. Written by George Orwell (btw I loved 1984)..... , Another Wodehouse fan, Aditya
In Defence Of P. G. Wodehouse
George Orwell
WHEN the Germans made their rapid advance through
Over a year later, on 25th June 1941, the news came that Wodehouse had been released from internment and was living at the Adlon Hotel in
The article and the broadcasts dealt mainly with Wodehouse's experiences in internment, but they did include a very few comments on the war. The following are fair samples:
"I never was interested in politics. I'm quite unable to work up any kind of belligerent feeling. Just as I'm about to feel belligerent about some country I meet a decent sort of chap. We go out together and lose any fighting thoughts or feelings."
"A short time ago they had a look at me on parade and got the right idea; at least they sent us to the local lunatic asylum. And I have been there forty-two weeks. There is a good deal to be said for internment. It keeps you out of the saloon and helps you to keep up with your reading. The chief trouble is that it means you are away from home for a long time. When I join my wife I had better take along a letter of introduction to be on the safe side."
"In the days before the war I had always been modestly proud of being an Englishman, but now that I have been some months resident in this bin or repository of Englishmen I am not so sure. ... The only concession I want from Germany is that she gives me a loaf of bread, tells the gentlemen with muskets at the main gate to look the other way, and leaves the rest to me. In return I am prepared to hand over India, an autographed set of my books, and to reveal the secret process of cooking sliced potatoes on a radiator. This offer holds good till Wednesday week."
The first extract quoted above caused great offence. Wodehouse was also censured for using (in the interview with Flannery) the phrase "whether Britain wins the war or not," and he did not make things better by describing in another broadcast the filthy habits of some Belgian prisoners among whom he was interned. The Germans recorded this broadcast and repeated it a number of times. They seem to have supervised his talks very lightly, and they allowed him not only to be funny about the discomforts of internment but to remark that "the internees at Trost camp all fervently believe that Britain will eventually win." The general upshot of the talks, however, was that he had not been ill treated and bore no malice.
These broadcasts caused an immediate uproar in England. There were questions in Parliament, angry editorial comments in the press, and a stream of letters from fellow-authors, nearly all of them disapproving, though one or two suggested that it would be better to suspend judgment, and several pleaded that Wodehouse probably did not realise what he was doing. On 15th July, the Home Service of the B.B.C. carried an extremely violent Postscript by "Cassandra" of the Daily Mirror, accusing Wodehouse of "selling his country." This postscript made free use of such expressions as "Quisling" and "worshipping the Führer." The main charge was that Wodehouse had agreed to do German propaganda as a way of buying himself out of the internment camp.
"Cassandra's" Postscript caused a certain amount of protest, but on the whole it seems to have intensified popular feeling against Wodehouse. One result of it was that numerous lending libraries withdrew Wodehouse's books from circulation. Here is a typical news item:
"Within twenty-four hours of listening to the broadcast of Cassandra, the Daily Mirror columnist, Portadown (North Ireland) Urban District Council banned P. G. Wodehouse's books from their public library. Mr. Edward McCann said that Cassandra's broadcast had clinched the matter. Wodehouse was funny no longer." (Daily Mirror.)
In addition the B.B.C. banned Wodehouse's lyrics from the air and was still doing so a couple of years later. As late as December 1944 there were demands in Parliament that Wodehouse should be put on trial as a traitor.
There is an old saying that if you throw enough mud some of it will stick, and the mud has stuck to Wodehouse in a rather peculiar way. An impression has been left behind that Wodehouse's talks (not that anyone remembers what he said in them) showed him up not merely as a traitor but as an ideological sympathiser with Fascism. Even at the time several letters to the press claimed that "Fascist tendencies" could be detected in his books, and the charge has been repeated since. I shall try to analyse the mental atmosphere of those books in a moment, but it is important to realise that the events of 1941 do not convict Wodehouse of anything worse than stupidity. The really interesting question is how and why he could be so stupid. When Flannery met Wodehouse (released, but still under guard) at the Adlon Hotel in June 1941, he saw at once that he was dealing with a political innocent, and when preparing him for their broadcast interview he had to warn him against making some exceedingly unfortunate remarks, one of which was by implication slightly anti-Russian. As it was, the phrase "whether England wins or not" did get through. Soon after the interview Wodehouse told him that he was also going to broadcast on the Nazi radio, apparently not realising that this action had any special significance. Flannery comments:
"By this time the Wodehouse plot was evident. It was one of the best Nazi publicity stunts of the war, the first with a human angle. ... Plack (Goebbels's assistant) had gone to the camp near Gleiwitz to see Wodehouse, found that the author was completely without political sense, and had an idea. He suggested to Wodehouse that in return for being released from the prison camp he write a series of broadcasts about his experiences; there would be no censorship and he would put them on the air himself. In making that proposal Plack showed that he knew his man. He knew that Wodehouse made fun of the English in all his stories and that he seldom wrote in any other way, that he was still living in the period about which he wrote and had no conception of Nazism and all it meant. Wodehouse was his own Bertie Wooster."
The striking of an actual bargain between Wodehouse and Plack seems to be merely Flannery's own interpretation. The arrangement may have been of a much less definite kind, and to judge from the broadcasts themselves, Wodehouse's main idea in making them was to keep in touch with his public and -- the comedian's ruling passion -- to get a laugh. Obviously they are not the utterances of a Quisling of the type of Ezra Pound or John Amery, nor, probably, of a person capable of understanding the nature of Quislingism. Flannery seems to have warned Wodehouse that it would be unwise to broadcast, but not very forcibly. He adds that Wodehouse (though in one broadcast he refers to himself as an Englishman) seemed to regard himself as an American citizen. He had contemplated naturalisation, but had never filled in the necessary papers. He even used, to Flannery, the phrase, "We're not at war with Germany."
I have before me a bibliography of P. G. Wodehouse's works. It names round about fifty books, but is certainly incomplete. It is as well to be honest, and I ought to start by admitting that there are many books by Wodehouse perhaps a quarter or a third of the total -- which I have not read. It is not, indeed, easy to read the whole output of a popular writer who is normally published in cheap editions. But I have followed his work fairly closely since 1911, when I was eight years old, and am well acquainted with its peculiar mental atmosphere -- an atmosphere which has not, of course, remained completely unchanged, but shows little alteration since about 1925. In the passage from Flannery's book which I quoted above there are two remarks which would immediately strike any attentive reader of Wodehouse. One is to the effect that Wodehouse "was still living in the period about which he wrote," and the other that the Nazi Propaganda Ministry made use of him because he "made fun of the English." The second statement is based on a misconception to which I will return presently. But Flannery's other comment is quite true and contains in it part of the clue to Wodehouse's behaviour.
A thing that people often forget about P. G. Wodehouse's novels is how long ago the better-known of them were written. We think of him as in some sense typifying the silliness of the nineteen-twenties and nineteen-thirties, but in fact the scenes and characters by which he is best remembered had all made their appearance before 1925. [...] When one looks through the list of Wodehouse's books from 1902 onwards, one can observe three fairly well-marked periods. The first is the school-story period. [...] The next is the American period. Wodehouse seems to have lived in the United States from about 1913 to 1920, and for a while showed signs of becoming Americanised in idiom and outlook. [...] The third period might fitly be called the country-house period. By the early nineteen-twenties Wodehouse must have been making a very large income, and the social status of his characters moved upwards accordingly [...]. The typical setting is now a country mansion, a luxurious bachelor flat or an expensive golf club. The schoolboy athleticism of the earlier books fades out, cricket and football giving way to golf, and the element of farce and burlesque becomes more marked. [...] Mike Jackson has turned into Bertie Wooster. That, however, is not a very startling metamorphosis, and one of the most noticeable things about Wodehouse is his lack of development. [...] How much of a formula the writing of his later books had become one can see from the fact that he continued to write stories of English life although throughout the sixteen years before his internment he was living at Hollywood and Le Touquet.
[...]
In Something Fresh Wodehouse had discovered the comic possibilities of the English aristocracy, and a succession of ridiculous but, save in a very few instances, not actually contemptible barons, earls and what-not followed accordingly. This had the rather curious effect of causing Wodehouse to be regarded, outside England, as a penetrating satirist of English society. Hence Flannery's statement that Wodehouse "made fun of the English," which is the impression he would probably make on a German or even an American reader. Some time after the broadcasts from Berlin I was discussing them with a young Indian Nationalist who defended Wodehouse warmly. He took it for granted that Wodehouse had gone over to the enemy, which from his own point of view was the right thing to do. But what interested me was to find that he regarded Wodehouse as an anti-British writer who had done useful work by showing up the British aristocracy in their true colours. This is a mistake that it would be very difficult for an English person to make, and is a good instance of the way in which books, especially humorous books, lose their finer nuances when they reach a foreign audience. For it is clear enough that Wodehouse is not anti-British, and not anti-upper class either. On the contrary, a harmless old-fashioned snobbishness is perceptible all through his work. Just as an intelligent Catholic is able to see that the blasphemies of Baudelaire or James Joyce are not seriously damaging to the Catholic faith, so an English reader can see that in creating such characters as Hildebrand Spencer Poyns de Burgh John Hanneyside Coombe-Crombie, 12th Earl of Dreever, Wodehouse is not really attacking the social hierarchy. Indeed, no one who genuinely despised titles would write of them so much. Wodehouse's attitude towards the English social system is the same as his attitude towards the public-school moral code -- a mild facetiousness covering an unthinking acceptance. The Earl of Emsworth is funny because an earl ought to have more dignity, and Bertie Wooster's helpless dependence on Jeeves is funny partly because the servant ought not to be superior to the master. An American reader can mistake these two, and others like them, for hostile caricatures, because he is inclined to be Anglophobe already and they correspond to his preconceived ideas about a decadent aristocracy. Bertie Wooster, with his spats and his cane, is the traditional stage Englishman. But, as any English reader would see, Wodehouse intends him as a sympathetic figure, and Wodehouse's real sin has been to present the English upper classes as much nicer people than they are. All through his books certain problems are constantly avoided. Almost without exception his moneyed young men are unassuming, good mixers, not avaricious: their tone is set for them by Psmith, who retains his own upper-class exterior but bridges the social gap by addressing everyone as "Comrade."
But there is another important point about Bertie Wooster: his out-of-dateness. Conceived in 1917 or thereabouts, Bertie really belongs to an epoch earlier than that. [...] A humorous writer is not obliged to keep up to date, and having struck one or two good veins, Wodehouse continued to exploit them with a regularity that was no doubt all the easier because he did not set foot in England during the sixteen years that preceded his internment. His picture of English society had been formed before 1914, and it was a naïve, traditional and, at bottom, admiring picture. [...] His books are aimed, not, obviously, at a highbrow audience, but at an audience educated along traditional lines. [...] In his radio interview with Flannery, Wodehouse wondered whether "the kind of people and the kind of England I write about will live after the war," not realising that they were ghosts already. "He was still living in the period about which he wrote," says Flannery, meaning, probably, the nineteen-twenties. But the period was really the Edwardian age, and Bertie Wooster, if he ever existed, was killed round about 1915.
If my analysis of Wodehouse's mentality is accepted, the idea that in 1941 he consciously aided the Nazi propaganda machine becomes untenable and even ridiculous. He may have been induced to broadcast by the promise of an earlier release (he was due for release a few months later, on reaching his sixtieth birthday), but he cannot have realised that what he did would be damaging to British interests. As I have tried to show, his moral outlook has remained that of a public-school boy, and according to the public-school code, treachery in time of war is the most unforgivable of all the sins. But how could he fail to grasp that what he did would be a big propaganda score for the Germans and would bring down a torrent of disapproval on his own head? To answer this one must take two things into consideration. First, Wodehouse's complete lack -- so far as one can judge from his printed works -- of political awareness. It is nonsense to talk of "Fascist tendencies" in his books. There are no post-1918 tendencies at all. Throughout his work there is a certain uneasy awareness of the problem of class distinctions, and scattered through it at various dates there are ignorant though not unfriendly references to Socialism. In The Heart of a Goof (1926) there is a rather silly story about a Russian novelist, which seems to have been inspired by the factional struggle then raging in the U.S.S.R. But the references in it to the Soviet system are entirely frivolous and, considering the date, not markedly hostile. That is about the extent of Wodehouse's political consciousness, so far as it is discoverable from his writings. Nowhere, so far as I know, does he so much as use the word "Fascism" or "Nazism." In left-wing circles, indeed in "enlightened" circles of any kind, to broadcast on the Nazi radio, to have any truck with the Nazis whatever, would have seemed just as shocking an action before the war as during it. But that is a habit of mind that had been developed during nearly a decade of ideological struggle against Fascism. The bulk of the British people, one ought to remember, remained anæsthetic to that struggle until late into 1940. Abyssinia, Spain, China, Austria, Czechoslovakia -- the long series of crimes and aggressions had simply slid past their consciousness or were dimly noted as quarrels occurring among foreigners and "not our business." One can gauge the general ignorance from the fact that the ordinary Englishman thought of "Fascism" as an exclusively Italian thing and was bewildered when the same word was applied to Germany. And there is nothing in Wodehouse's writings to suggest that he was better informed, or more interested in politics, than the general run of his readers.
The other thing one must remember is that Wodehouse happened to be taken prisoner at just the moment when the war reached its desperate phase. We forget these things now, but until that time feelings about the war had been noticeably tepid. There was hardly any fighting, the Chamberlain Government was unpopular, eminent publicists were hinting that we should make a compromise peace as quickly as possible, trade union and Labour Party branches all over the country were passing anti-war resolutions. Afterwards, of course, things changed. The Army was with difficulty extricated from Dunkirk, France collapsed, Britain was alone, the bombs rained on London, Goebbels announced that Britain was to be "reduced to degradation and poverty." By the middle of 1941 the British people knew what they were up against and feelings against the enemy were far fiercer than before. But Wodehouse had spent the intervening year in internment, and his captors seem to have treated him reasonably well. He had missed the turning-point of the war, and in 1941 he was still reacting in terms of 1939. He was not alone in this. On several occasions about this time the Germans brought captured British soldiers to the microphone, and some of them made remarks at least as tactless as Wodehouse's. They attracted no attention, however. And even an outright Quisling like John Amery was afterwards to arouse much less indignation than Wodehouse had done.
But why? Why should a few rather silly but harmless remarks by an elderly novelist have provoked such an outcry? One has to look for the probable answer amid the dirty requirements of propaganda warfare.
There is one point about the Wodehouse broadcasts that is almost certainly significant -- the date. Wodehouse was released two or three days before the invasion of the U.S.S.R., and at a time when the higher ranks of the Nazi party must have known that the invasion was imminent. It was vitally necessary to keep America out of the war as long as possible, and in fact, about this time, the German attitude towards the U.S.A. did become more conciliatory than it had been before. The Germans could hardly hope to defeat Russia, Britain and the U.S.A. in combination, but if they could polish off Russia quickly -- and presumably they expected to do so -- the Americans might never intervene. The release of Wodehouse was only a minor move, but it was not a bad sop to throw to the American isolationists. He was well known in the United States, and he was -- or so the Germans calculated -- popular with the Anglophobe public as a caricaturist who made fun of the silly-ass Englishman with his spats and his monocle. At the microphone he could be trusted to damage British prestige in one way or another, while his release would demonstrate that the Germans were good fellows and knew how to treat their enemies chivalrously. That presumably was the calculation, though the fact that Wodehouse was only broadcasting for about a week suggests that he did not come up to expectations.
But on the British side similar though opposite calculations were at work. For the two years following Dunkirk, British morale depended largely upon the feeling that this was not only a war for democracy but a war which the common people had to win by their own efforts. The upper classes were discredited by their appeasement policy and by the disasters of 1940, and a social levelling process appeared to be taking place. Patriotism and left-wing sentiments were associated in the popular mind, and numerous able journalists were at work to tie the association tighter. Priestley's 1940 broadcasts, and "Cassandra's" articles in the Daily Mirror, were good examples of the demagogic propaganda flourishing at that time. In this atmosphere, Wodehouse made an ideal whipping-boy. For it was generally felt that the rich were treacherous, and Wodehouse -- as "Cassandra" vigorously pointed out in his broadcast -- was a rich man. But he was the kind of rich man who could be attacked with impunity and without risking any damage to the structure of society. To denounce Wodehouse was not like denouncing, say, Beaverbrook. A mere novelist, however large his earnings may happen to be, is not of the possessing class. Even if his income touches £350,000 a year he has only the outward semblance of a millionaire. He is a lucky outsider who has fluked into a fortune -- usually a very temporary fortune -- like the winner of the Calcutta Derby Sweep. Consequently, Wodehouse's indiscretion gave a good propaganda opening. It was a chance to "expose" a wealthy parasite without drawing attention to any of the parasites who really mattered.
In the desperate circumstances of the time, it was excusable to be angry at what Wodehouse did, but to go on denouncing him three or four years later -- and more, to let an impression remain that he acted with conscious treachery -- is not excusable. Few things in this war have been more morally disgusting than the present hunt after traitors and Quislings. At best it is largely the punishment of the guilty by the guilty. In
(1945)
(1945)
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Why I believe Kaavya Viswanathan
So do I...
The first thought that struck me when I read about the Kaavya V fiasco in the papers, was 'She's innocent'. I thought it was just me, being the devil's advocate. Now I realize I'm not the only one. Actually once I tend to write, I realize that it's very easy to be inspired.. (seem to be 'internalising' you at the moment). Had my own Wodehouse, Ayn Rand phases, and may even be onto a Bill Watterson one at the moment.. In fact, I remember how the whole film noir, concept got to me and I tried my hand at a dark 'noir'ish poem.. Didn't work out to well but I'm sure a critical analysis would draw comparisons with the dialogues of the game 'Max Payne'.. Even my poetry has shades of Shakespeare (I wish!)..
Thank you for the reassurance,
Adtya
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