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One of the first Jews to arrive in Calcutta towards the end of the eighteenth century was Shalom Aharon Ovadiah HaCohen. He was an ambitious young merchant from Alleppo who came to Calcutta via Surat. Interested in establishing trading links from London to Shanghai, Shalom and the other early Jewish settlers traded in indigo, ivory, cotton, yarn, gold leaf, silk, Veniceware, precious stones, coffee, and cash crops like sesame oil, jute, sugar, spices, indigo and later, opium. Shalom was soon joined by his nephew Moses Simon Duek HaCohen, who played a key role in framing the first constitution of the community. Around this time also arrived, for a brief period, Joseph Ezra whose son David Ezra, was soon to return to Calcutta and begin to create the Ezra empire. With uncanny foresight, David invested in real estate, realizing that the dingy and disreputable streets of Calcutta would soon be commanding a high price as the capital of British India.
The two famed synagogues of Calcutta are the Beth El and the Maghen David. Though the first generations of Calcutta Jews spoke Judeo–Arabic at home, by the 1890s English was widely spoken. They also moved to a select residential area south of Park Street and began to take a prominent role in Calcutta's public life.
The Jewish community of Kolkata was part of the colonial elite and two Jewish clubs were established in the city, the Judean and Maccabi clubs, which became the haunts for social intermingling of the richer Jews families.
David Lloyd George was born near Manchester on January 17, 1863, an irony, to be sure, for the most famous Welshman in recent memory. His father William George, originally from Pembrokeshire in Wales, had become headmaster of an elementary school in Manchester. Failing health forced William George to abandon teaching and to return to Pembrokeshire where he died of pneumonia in June 1864, leaving behind two small children and a wife (Elizabeth) who was expecting a third. Left practically penniless, Elizabeth was forced to move in with her brother Richard and her mother in Llanystumdwy, not far from Criccieth. Richard Lloyd was a lifelong bachelor and, to his credit, looked after his sister's family as if it were his own. He was an unpaid Baptist preacher, self-educated, highly intelligent, passionate about Welsh culture and history, and a die-hard Liberal. He made a comfortable living carrying on a shoemaking business, so that young David and his siblings grew up without enduring privation in a stable and loving environment. At school it was clear that David was bright, with a phenomenal memory and he excelled in mathematics, history and geography. His formal education came to an end in 1878 when, thanks to uncle Lloyd's connections, a post was found for him in a leading law firm in nearby Portmadoc and the following year he was articled to the junior partner for a period of five years.
A long period of instability and fragmentation followed the end of the Safavid dynasty (1736) and the brief reign of Nadir Shah (1736–1747). Although Zand rule created order and prosperity in the southern part of the country for most of the second half of the eighteenth century, a unifying force only arose at the century's end in the form of the Qajars. Before his assassination in 1797 Aqa Muhammad Qajar, who ended the Zand dynasty, re-instated to the Persian Empire its former territories in the Caucasus. Acting to defend her interests in India by pre-empting Afghanistan's expansion into Persia and thence India, as well as possible French invasion, in 1799 Britain sent an embassy led by John Malcolm. This reached Tehran the following year and resulted in the signing of two Anglo-Persian treaties: one promised economic cooperation, the other British support in defending Persia against both Afghanistan and France. However when Russia attacked his kingdom's Caucasian provinces, Fath Ali Shah (ruled 1797–1834) turned in 1807 to France for help, signing a treaty and receiving a French military mission. But when Napoleon settled with Russia at Tilsit he left Persia prey once more to her northern neighbour. Diplomatic manoeuvres were then resumed by Britain. London sent Harford Jones who negotiated a new treaty with the Shah only for John Malcolm to arrive from India in February 1810.
It is now more than 50 years since we have become a republican democracy. Even 50 years is a long time, and within 50 years dramatic changes can take place in a nation's life. Let me provide one or two examples of such dramatic changes. We know that the most powerful, feared, respected and perhaps the most despised emperor of the Mughals, Aurangzeb, who took the Mughal Empire to the zenith of its power, died in 1707, and exactly in 50 years, in 1757, the Battle of Plassey took place, which marked the end of the mighty Mughals and the beginning of a completely new chapter in India's history. Could anybody anticipate this at the time of Aurangzeb's death? To give another example: on 22 June 1897, London was celebrating Queen Victoria's diamond jubilee with great pomp and splendour, for it was not merely a celebration but also an emphatic assertion of Great Britain's lone superpower status in the world. Across the Atlantic, The New York Times, desperately feeling the need to make the US a part of this glorious moment, editorialized, ‘we are a part of the Greater Britain which seems so plainly destined to dominate this planet’. Again, in exactly 50 years time, in 1947, the most precious jewel would be removed from the British Crown and Great Britain would lose its superpower status forever to none other than the US.
The failure of credit markets in catering to the poor residing in the rural areas of the developing economies is well recognized. The credit markets are particularly problematic because the lenders are unaware of the creditworthiness of the borrowers more often than not. The poor individuals may have workable ideas and relevant experience, but often lack so-called ‘collateral’ to be deposited with the lender and appropriated in case of project failure and possibility of default by the borrowers. The formal sector may enjoy a comparative advantage over the informal sector in intermediating funds over space and reaping scale economics, but it seems to fare worse in solving information and enforcement problems (Besley, 1995). Formal lending institutions mostly cannot accept collateral in non-monetary forms. The informational problems arise because the rural credit markets in developing economies are often characterized by limited liability, in which a borrower repays fully only when the project is successful, but her liability is otherwise limited by her resources. For poor borrowers without any collateral, the repayment is possible only when success comes. In such situations, since the borrowers do not internalize the risk completely, a loan that cannot be properly monitored may be used in overly risky activities or used for some other purpose than what it is primarily intended for. With high monitoring and transaction costs of catering to a large number of poor borrowers in remote rural area, the formal lending institutions see lending to the rural poor as a very risky business.
Calcutta has, since its origin and at different points in time, always allured people. Because of its strategic, geographic and commercial position, along with various historical, economic and political reasons, people from not only numerous corners of the country and the neighbouring states, but also from far off places, have come to the city. Alongside internal migration, there has always been a kaleidoscopic inflow of people from distant lands. Particularly since its emergence as the capital of British India and as the centre for trade of entire South-East Asia and China, a deluge of international immigrants like Dutch, French, Jews, Chinese and Armenians have given the city its cosmopolitan character. Hence, the city has always portrayed itself as a mosaic of a large number of diverse ethnic groups, who had set their foot on this land of opportunities in search of fate and fortune, having different cultures, languages and religions.
The existence of the Armenian community in Calcutta came into the limelight recently when His Holiness Karekin II, Supreme Patriarch and Catholicos of All Armenians, as a part of His 10-days (23 February–4 March 2007) Pontifical Visit to India, came down from Etchmiadzin in Armenia to meet and bless the Indian–Armenian diaspora of the city. This was after more than 40 years since His Holiness Vazgen I, the Catholicos from 1955–1994, visited the country in 1963, when the foundation stone of the present building of the Armenian College was laid on 9 December of that year.
The empowerment of women especially at their most intimate site i.e the household, is perhaps the most daunting problem of Indian democracy. If poor women, the most vulnerable section of the Indian polity, cannot achieve emancipation from the rigours of domestic oppression then the very basis of democracy is weakened. In other words, if non democratic ethos prevail in the household which is the basic unit of our democracy then the democratic superstructure of our polity becomes vulnerable. Thus, this paper attempts to address the issues that are relevant for the emancipation of the poor women within the household itself.
This paper is based on the findings of a larger study. The paper, as the title indicates, concentrates on the poor maidservant or kajerlok or thika jhee. While it evaluates the socio-economic condition of the jhee on the basis of two small samples taken respectively from a South Calcutta (Kolkata) and a North Calcutta slum (Bustee), at a more fundamental level it tries to decipher whether she (jhee) continues to be discriminated against in the most important site for her – the household. The hypotheses that will be evaluated in this paper are set out later.
Hardcore feminists argue that women's discrimination in the household is because of the prevalence of patriarchy. Patriarchy, in the Max Weberian sense, is a particular form of household organization in which the father dominates over other members of the family.
I started this book with the debate between optimists such as Paine, Godwin and Condorcet and pessimists such as Malthus and Ricardo over the prospects for happiness and a full life, especially as it had been envisaged by Paine (1995) in his Rights of Man. While prolongevity obviously raises factual problems about the feasibility of life extension such as freezing whole bodies, it very definitely raises ethical and philosophical problems about how life extension might be justified. In this book I am claiming that there are two important frameworks for its justification. One is an aesthetic justification, which I am deriving from Nietzsche, that by making our lives into a work of art we might justify long life both to ourselves and to others. The alternative is justification in terms of rights (either human rights or the social rights of citizenship). In this rights framework, the right to long life might be developed as fundamentally an extension of a right to life as such or a right to health. Let us turn again to the question of rights.
Egalitarian concepts of social justice and human rights have been used in diverse ways in the life extension project debate. Researchers who are sympathetic to the project have both drawn upon and rejected the egalitarian approach in their argumentation. Generally speaking, they highlight the untenable position of delaying scientific progress while governments and international agencies attempt to resolve existing problems of global social inequality (Post 2004).
Macbeth's anxious question to the air-borne dagger underscores the ambivalence in the manifestations of sight in this play: the dichotomies between what he sees and what he does not see, what he ought to see and what he ought not to see. Within a theatrical text, this opens up particularly interesting possibilities because the visual is a major signifier in the theatre, expected to work in tandem with the verbal/aural signifiers in order to constitute the performance.
In Renaissance England, there seems to have been a shift from the earlier dispensation of ‘hearing’ a play to that of ‘seeing’ a play. Scholars have often regarded Renaissance drama as ‘a confluence of the classical tradition of rhetoric and the native tradition of pageantry and spectacle’. In fact, the visual seems to have been increasingly prioritized over the verbal, so much so that the Jacobean spectators at the Fortune and the Red Bull theatres, comprising ‘the Citizens and the meaner sort of people’ according to Historia Histrionica (1699), are known to have clamoured for cruder forms of spectacular entertainment. No less a personality than Ben Jonson had to submit, however grudgingly, to the growing popularity of sight over sound. The two alternative Prologues for The Staple of News are illuminating in this context. The one written for the public stage declares that ‘he'd have you wise / Much rather by your ears than by your eyes’.
This chapter examines a well-known short story ‘A Horse and Two Goats’, to address three questions regarding the art and achievement of its author, R K Narayan. The first question pertains to a reevaluation of R K Narayan's oeuvre on the occasion of his hundredth birth anniversary, which took place in 2006. Is he really a great writer? If so, how do we know it? The second question touches on the debate started by V S Naipaul about the ‘Hindu’ (non-modern, non-Western) mentality that pervades Narayan's world. Is Naipaul right? The answers to both questions are tied up with the third and chief question, which is that of language and representation in Narayan's writings and which I shall take up first.
I shall argue that Narayan, in a manner of speaking, ‘solves’ the problem of representing Indian reality in a (not entirely Indian language) English by crafting a special kind of style, which we may call an artful plainness. This strategy, which is the opposite of Raja Rao's or Salman Rushdie's, relies on a largely correct, syntactically and lexically limited, narrative technique to create an effect that exceeds its form. The key, in other words, to understanding Narayan's unique contribution to Indian English literature and to reevaluating his greatness is this question of language and representation. Narayan's achievement lies in a minimalism.
The new CIGS, Henry Wilson, was fifty-four years old and one of the most controversial officers of his era. Articulate, quick-witted, intellectually sharp and prone to expressing strong opinions on issues and individuals, he is remembered as much for his love of intrigue as for his accomplishments. He was tall, bald and thin as a reed, with a prominent nose and gothic features, and, by his own admission, was the “ugliest man in the British army.” His strength was as an administrator, not as a field general.
As head of the Imperial General Staff, Wilson had little in common with his predecessor. He was more popular with politicians that with his brother officers. He spoke French fluently, which was certainly a valuable asset in dealing with the nation's difficult ally. His expositions were lucidly expressed and he offered equally clear reasons as to why a course of action should be adopted or rejected. “It was a delight to hear him unravel and expound a military problem,” Lloyd George has written. “For that reason he was specially helpful in a council of civilians.” Yet, also in contrast to Robertson, when faced with the need to make a firm decision, one in which he would be held responsible, his nerves failed him. As Lloyd George put it, he “shrank from the responsibility of the final word, even in advice.”
This article meets the central theme of the present volume from a relatively unusual direction. Instead of focusing directly on the ‘minorities’ in Calcutta in terms of their own respective subjectivities, it explores how the notion of ‘minority’ is significantly shaped by the way in which dominant groups in the city perceive themselves as the ‘majority’. Arguably, the ‘majority's’ self-projection is as crucial in the configuration of ‘minorities’ as the relatively objective parameters of demography and statistics. Again, if the minorities in Calcutta have historically and variously asserted their cultural differences and thus inscribed their signature on the configuration of minorities, there is a sense in which this configuration has been dialectically constituted by the ‘majority's’ discourse of power. Finally, a study of the ‘majority's’ discourse on the ‘minorities’ also brings out the role of cultural essentialism in translating the bare demographic–statistical fundamentals of a minority community's existence into majority communities' construction of the ‘other’.
The boundaries of the self-perception of the ‘majority’ in Calcutta may well vary depending on what the authors of the concerned discourse of power invoke as the crucial determinant of ethnicity – religion or language or a combination of both. Though discourses claiming a Hindu ‘majority’ for the city is common, the city is often also imagined as the site of an essential Bengali-ness.
Right or wrong, I have been compelled to live under the shadow of ‘dirty’ politics in India – but neither am I capable of adopting myself to that situation nor am I competent enough to write a discourse on it. What I shall do is to look into some of the problematics of Indian politics from the viewpoint of common sense.
Common sense refers to ‘the uncritical and largely unconscious way of perceiving and understanding’ the reality that has become ‘common’ at a historical juncture. It means ‘the incoherent set of generally held assumptions and beliefs common to any given society’. Three points should be noted: First, it is fragmentary, incoherent and may appear inconsequential to some as it is linked with one's common sense or his perception of reality and depends on who he is or where he is from. In other words, ‘one's conception of the world is a response to certain specific problems posed by reality, which are quite specific and “original” in their immediate relevance’. Thirdly, when one talks about ‘commons sense’, one emphasizes on those materialistic elements which are apparently ‘immediate’, a product of ‘crude sensation’, and can be justified as ‘realistic’. The main purpose of this paper is to offer a critique of ‘common sense’, decipher it, and, if possible, supercede it.
— W.B.Yeats, ‘Sailing to Byzantium’ from The Tower
Introduction: Types of Survival
We can now see that the controversial but simple question – can we live forever? – has a variety of answers. In retrospect, we can now distinguish three basic forms of survival (Callahan, 2009). The first is basically the status quo, which is a relatively long life in historical terms, but with all the disability and immobility that normally goes with ageing. This scenario is obviously undesirable for the individual and costly for society in terms of rising healthcare bills. The second type would be an extension of life with little disability and a quick death. In this form, medicine has successfully addressed most of the diseases of ageing without offering us immortality. From an individual perspective, this outcome is clearly desirable. Finally, we could contemplate decelerated ageing which would simply mean slowing down the ageing process, and then there might be arrested ageing in which ageing could be delayed or deferred for an indefinite period. The aim of the Immortalists is some version of arrested ageing in which morbidity could largely be eliminated and immortality could be delivered through extensive geriatric engineering. This outcome is clearly problematic from a social and economic point of view, and it may be deeply disturbing for the individual, given the problems of boredom and despair that I have tried to describe earlier.
Son of an East London insurance clerk, C.S. Jarvis achieved success as a colonial administrator in Egypt despite not coming from the usual social background and being without a public school education. When 17 he joined the merchant navy as an apprentice, fought as a trooper in the South African War between 1899 and 1902, and in the Great War served in France, Egypt and Palestine reaching the rank of major. Having acquired a good knowledge of Arabic he joined the Egyptian frontiers administration in the Western Desert and was transferred to Sinai in 1922 where he was governor until his retirement in 1936. Thereafter he made a new career for himself writing, drawing upon the knowledge and experience he had acquired during his years among the Arabs in the Egyptian deserts. The Royal Central Asian Society awarded him its Lawrence Memorial Medal in 1938, but he was not a believer in the causes Lawrence espoused. He claimed to have had ample experience of the real Bedouin character and in his books gave many instances of their factiousness, laziness and lust for money.
From:
Three Deserts (1936)
A practical administrator who contributed to desert reclamation during his fourteen years in Sinai, Jarvis argues that the Bedouin were in part responsible for reducing scrub land to desert because they allowed their animals to destroy its trees and vegetation.
The question of livelihoods in both rural and urban India has reached complexity in contemporary times when the country has taken recourse to neo-liberal policies. Livelihoods have been diverse and labour markets have been segregated. While the advent of neo-liberalism in the country meant unemployment, poverty and inequality to a large section of the population, simultaneously this has also meant creation of a new kind of job market with more flexible labour. This complexity in the labour market together with agrarian change implied changing pattern in livelihood creation in rural India. Since rural India meant more than an agrarian economy, it became crucial to study the changing pattern of rural livelihoods in the post-liberalization period in India. The paper is an attempt to explore the pattern of employment changes experienced in rural India through creation and adoption of new livelihoods by the rural population. The paper starts with a review of the question of rural livelihoods and the question of rural change in India as depicted by researchers in Section 1. It then discusses the changing pattern of rural employment in India as experienced in the last decade in section 2 followed by a conclusive section 3.
RURAL LIVELIHOODS IN THE MAKING
The question of changing rural livelihoods under the forces of neoliberalism and globalization arises due to complexity in the form of flexibilization of labour force and multiplicity of occupations. This was pointed out by Deshpande, Standing and Deshpande (1998), Ellis (1998), Carney (1998) and Scoones (1998).
The task of situating the contemporary Indian English novel will necessarily be a tentative rather than a normative one, marked perhaps by the sputtering, flickering, even involuntary exertions of the illocutionary subject. In fact, when I first wrote this Introduction. I remember starting off by admitting that it had been crosshatched between two contrary discursive impulses, or should I say, compulsions – on the one hand, the cordial and insistent invitation to embark upon such an exercise and on the other hand, my own inner reluctance to undertake the kind of ‘fixing’ that the word situating implies. On further reflection, I think that the contrary impulses were deeper and had to do with the nature of the project of situating the Indian novel itself rather than merely the tussle between having to write and needing to remain silent, vocalizing and reflecting, going out and staying at home.
The word ‘situate’, itself has an interesting etymology. It may not be out of place to mention here that the tendency to use etymology to clarify what we mean should not be alien to us in India because our learned ancestors often resorted to Nirukta to establish meanings in Vedic exegesis. Thus, the recourse to etymology and derivations is not alien to our hermeneutic traditions. As an aside, we may bear in mind that Nirukta and etymology are not the same.