Let me begin by introducing to you Zinaida the Happy Soviet Housewife, a smiling woman in an apron, baking pies with her little girl in time for Papa to get home. This image of domestic bliss was printed in the Soviet press a day after the American National Exhibition, presenting America as a consumer paradise, opened in Moscow's Sokol'niki Park in July 1959. What is Zinaida so happy about? ‘“Our kitchen”, she says in the caption, “is as good as the American one shown at the exhibition in Sokol'niki.”’ Indeed, Zinaida's Soviet kitchen is modern and rational, if rather modest. It boasts such stepsaving conveniences as wall-mounted units and a drying rack over the sink, which is fitted into a continuous worktop and has a mixer tap, indicating both hot and cold running water supplies.

Happy housewives, showing off their modern homes and dedicated to providing a happy homecoming for their hardworking husbands, are better known, in the post-war period, as the symbol of the good life on the other side of the Iron Curtain. The Happy Housewife did service in the global politics of the Cold War as an advertisement for the benefits of ‘people's capitalism.’ She was particularly closely identified with the American dream, as represented in advertising images of suburban domestic bliss, although numerous examples may also be found in European and British publications from the 1950s. Surrounded by gleaming appliances, the professional western housewife reigned over her segregated domain, keeping a serene home.

In a recent essay, the Russian ethnolinguist Anna Zaliznyak claimed that the word schast'e, usually rendered in English by ‘happiness’, actually represents a quite specific emotional state. ‘Happy’ is adequately translated, she asserts, only by dovol'nyi, which suggests a comparable sense of well-anticipated and serene contentment. Schast'e, on the other hand, refers to a kind of elation that is extreme, sudden, and not to be relied on; it is a type of ‘earthly bliss’ that exists mainly in the future or in the past (i.e., is a potential force), and that cannot be attained by ‘some algorithmic means–deserved or earned’. So unusual and accidental is the feeling, that it is also ‘slightly shameful’. As always with this kind of exercise in comparative definition, one is tempted to dispute the nationally specific tenor of the analysis; the fact that ‘happiness’ is not the right translation for schast'e surely does not mean that there is no translation for schast'e (‘bliss’ would be fairly close), or that the emotional state so defined is unrecognizable to a person without that term in their linguistic range. However, there are two directions in which discussion can usefully run. One is that Zaliznyak foregrounds an association–which is indeed difficult to capture in English–between ‘happiness’ in the emotional sense and good luck (compare the Latinate term ‘fortunate’).

Whether the fourth act of Prometheus Unbound is grand finale or sublime afterthought, its internal character suggests that what urged Shelley toward its composition in the spring of 1819 was the desire to produce an appropriately magnificent celebration for all the blessings attendant on the union of Prometheus and Asia. As befits their standing as the parents and originals of all this “boundless, overflowing bursting gladness” (320), neither Asia nor Prometheus plays any role in this ceremony of praise. This play within the play is performed not by the two principals of Prometheus Unbound, but for them and their regenerative powers.

The act's opening stage direction names “a Part of the Forest near the Cave of Prometheus” as the scene for a series of performances consisting of: an introductory ensemble of choral song and dance performed by the paired “spirits of the human mind” and the new hours or seasons of human history; a masque-like pageant of Earth and Moon, coming to extended vocal life in the love duet between tenor Earth and soprano Moon; and a final valedictory from Demogorgon.

Although Lloyd George had stated publicly on many occasions that the war would not end until Germany surrendered unconditionally, he never really foreclosed the possibility of peace talks in order to avoid prolonging the horrendous slaughter. After the Kühlmann peace feeler had raised false hopes, Lloyd George told Riddell that “the time might come when they will offer terms we can consider.” His conditions for a stable peace included restitution of territory under Germany's occupation and democratization of its government. But the moment to engage in peace talks did not appear near in view of the Entente's dismal prospects.

In November 1917 President Wilson sent House overseas to urge the Allied leaders to enunciate moderate war aims so as to counteract Bolshevik propaganda and weaken public resolve in Germany. The mission arrived in London at the most inopportune moment. On November 28 the Daily Telegraph published a letter from Lord Lansdowne, a Conservative elder statesman, who made public the case for a negotiated settlement he had initially advanced in a memorandum to the Asquith cabinet a year earlier. Appalled that the flower of the country's manhood was being sacrificed in a conflict he believed was unwinnable, he pleaded with the government to revise its war aims, making it clear that the Allies did not intend to destroy Germany as a great power or ruin its commerce. Only by offering Germany acceptable terms, he asserted, would the war end by negotiation.

The title of this chapter refers to at least four texts. The first two texts are suggested by Ithaca, the city of the birth and return of the great Greek hero, Odysseus, the protagonist of the Homeric epic, Odyssey, and thus brings to mind the great classical text. It is also the title of a famous poem by C P Cavafy (1863–1933), a major Greek poet. The poem, over the years, has become a commonplace metaphor for the importance of journeys over arrivals. Especially in the Rae Delven translation, it has acquired a popular, even cultic following in the English speaking world, with celebrities such as Sean Connery reading it. It has also been quoted in full by the internationally best-selling novelist Paulo Coelho in his book The Zahir: A Novel of Obssession (2005). Coelho does not acknowledge that Anita Desai had used it earlier, in almost the same opening location of her novel, Journey to Ithaca, which is the principal concern of this chapter. But the phrase also refers to the title this very chapter in which I consider a reading of the fiction of the 1980s and 1990s (FEN) itself as a sort of journey to Ithaca, that is, an interesting expedition with a disappointing arrival.

Introduction: Vulnerability, Precariousness and the Body

In thinking about the human condition, we must keep in mind four fundamental aspects of our existence that follow from our embodiment: the vulnerability of human beings as embodied creatures, the dependency of humans (especially during their early childhood development), the general reciprocity or interconnectedness of social life and finally, the precariousness of social institutions. There is a dialectical relationship between these four components that becomes obvious when one thinks about the process of technological modernization. Within this dialectical balance between vulnerability, dependency, reciprocity and precariousness, modern technologies, especially medical technology, have powerful, unpredictable and far-reaching implications, and they are largely disruptive of the relationship between the four components. If our embodiment is the real source of our common sociability, then changes to embodiment must have significant implications for both vulnerability and interconnectedness. The new microbiological revolution in medical sciences holds out the promise of long life and rejuvenation, but the prospect of living forever is driven by a powerful commercial logic and has (largely unrecognized) military and security applications and implications that are problematic for human rights and democracy. New medical procedures such as therapeutic cloning, new reproductive technologies, rejuvenative medicine, stem cell research applications, cryonics, fetal surgery and organ transplants create the possibility of a medical utopia, but they also reinforce social divisions and inequalities, especially between rich and poor societies.

Much of the infrastructure and general atmosphere of Calcutta is heir to the colonial institutions and the mentality born out of colonial history. As a cosmopolitan city Calcutta experiences the presence of a sizeable section of people from other provinces of India. These people from other ethnolinguistic backgrounds migrated here in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. This mixed composition staying away from their homelands are usually clubbed together by the Calcuttan under a common blanket term – ‘non-Bengalis’. Of these non-Bengalis, a sizeable section belongs to the different South Indian communities. To begin with, let us admit a common misnomer or a faulty identification of all South Indian people as ‘Madrasis’. E M S Nambudiripad's reaction to the use of such a loose term was:

This common mistake has a historical reason probably. The temporary or permanent migration from different South Indian provinces to different parts of Northern India began with the colonial governance. At that time, all the officials or functionaries from any of the four South Indian provinces represented the ‘Madras Presidency’. The use of such a mistaken blanket term is outdated now and it is the rather loosely-bound, though at least geographically correct term, the ‘South Indian’, which still remains in vogue.

Elections in large-sized states are universally accepted as the watchword of democracy. A country that does not hold periodic elections and removes its rulers from power through the instrumentality of elections based on universal adult franchise does not qualify as democratic under the present circumstances. The paper argues that the institution of elections – widely held as the lifeblood of democracy under modern conditions whether in India or elsewhere – is produced through what Giorgio Agamben calls ‘a state of exception’ while paradoxically ‘safeguarding’ it. As he puts it:

Viewed in this light, it is a study not so much of elections being the illuminated face of our democracy but of the dark face that is hidden by it. Yet the very suspension of electoral rules and norms makes the conduct of ‘normal’ elections possible, gives credence to them as an institution and thereby strengthens the foundations of our democracy. The term ‘suspension’ is used here in three relatively distinguishable senses of the sovereign state deciding first not to apply the laws, rules and norms that it has otherwise set for itself, second, to apply them in a way that infringes on what Montesquieu calls, the ‘spirit’ of laws and third, that disarticulates the moral community.

In recent years, a great deal of discussion has taken place on the issue of occupational diversification by the rural households, particularly in the developing countries. It has been observed that most of the households in rural areas of the developing countries depend on a diverse portfolio of activities and income sources, alongside crop and livestock production (Ferrington et al., 2006). This has been a part of their survival strategy as also their aim to reduce the risk of income failure (Ellis, 1998, 2000; Barrett et al., 2001; Reardon et al., 2001; Lanjouw and Lanjouw, 2001). Another beneficial effect of diversification is that it helps to mitigate ‘labour smoothening’ problems which arise due to seasonality of pure agricultural operations.

However, it is to be admitted that the diversification strategy of the household may not necessarily coincide with the individual worker-level diversity. As argued by Ellis (2000), although the household may have diverse activity portfolio, which might have been maintained for security and/or good returns, individual household members might specialize in single occupations/sectors depending upon their own choice that is often determined by a host of factors. In that event, it becomes imperative to explore those factors, which govern choice of occupations among possible alternatives by the individual workers in rural areas.

Our main purpose in this paper is to examine the patterns and determinants of occupational diversification by the rural workers in West Bengal.

Introduction

The People's Republic of China (PRC) has achieved great success in developing its economy since it conducted economy-wide reforms and opened itself to the outside world. In less than three decades, the PRC has become a leading world economy, the second largest in terms of foreign direct investment (FDI) inflows, the third largest in foreign trade, the fourth largest in gross domestic product (GDP), and an important engine for global economic growth. One of the key factors for the PRC's success has been its integration into the world economic system, enabling it to use global market resources (markets, capital, and technology). Accession to the World Trade Organization (WTO) has made the PRC economy more open, transparent, and integrated into the world economic system. The PRC's new regional strategy, that is forming free trade agreements (FTAs), as well as its foreign investment strategy, have deepened, and the PRC will continue to intensify its economic integration and cooperation with its partners.

The Asia and Pacific region is the source of most of the PRC's FDI inflows, as well as the principal destination of its exports, with the United States (US) and Japan the two largest markets. East Asia accounts for half of the PRC's foreign trade and more than 70% of FDI inflows. The PRC's trade with South Asia is still small in volume, but it is growing quickly.

Introduction

India's recent economic performance has attracted widespread attention. With an average annual rate of growth of 8% sustained over the past few years and a robust outlook for the future, India is emerging as a driver for growth in Asia. Economic reforms undertaken since 1991 have deepened India's economic integration with the world economy, and trade and international investments now occupy a far more important place in the economy than ever. India has also taken a keen interest in regional economic integration with South Asia and East Asia. It is an active member of the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC) and the Bay of Bengal Initiative for Multi-Sectoral Technical and Economic Cooperation (BIMSTEC), among other initiatives for regional integration in South Asia. It has also adopted a Look East Policy to guide its foreign economic relationships and deepen engagement with the Association for South East Asian Nations (ASEAN) and East Asian countries, and has articulated a vision of broader pan-Asian economic integration.

This paper briefly overviews the macroeconomic performance of the Indian economy and the emerging patterns of its global economic integration. It also discusses India's approach to regional economic integration in South Asia and East Asia. Its sections (i) provides an overview of the macroeconomic performance of the Indian economy, the economic outlook, and global economic integration against the background of reforms undertaken since 1991

Indian Democracy: Problems and Prospects is the culmination of a UGC sponsored national seminar on ‘The Changing Face of Indian Democracy: Regionalism and Coalition Governments’, organized by the Department of Political Science, Loreto College, Kolkata in September 2006.

The papers presented and published here reflect an attempt to trace and analyse the changing nature of Indian democracy in the last 60 years. The contributions of eminent academicians will no doubt enrich the ongoing discourse on Indian democracy.

I am grateful to all those who presented papers at the seminar and consented to the publication of the same. Appreciation is also due to the faculty and students of the Department of Political Science for making possible this valuable publication. I sincerely hope that this book will contribute towards a deeper understanding of this evolutionary phenomenon in Indian politics.

Allied military plans to win the war in 1917 were derailed by a distracted Russia and by a breakdown of discipline in the ranks of the French army in the wake of Nivelle's debacle. The waning effectiveness of the Russian and French armies made Britain the mainstay of the anti-German coalition. The numerical advantage on which the Entente had counted to wear down the Germans was nullified, at least for the foreseeable future. Britain faced two dangerous choices. If it took on the Germans with only limited help from its European allies, it would bleed to death and be unable to sustain the struggle in the final stages.

The other option was to remain inactive until American forces could be thrown into the scale. But the United States was unprepared to fight in a major war. Both the British and French governments had tried unsuccessfully to urge Washington to permit and encourage the massive enlistment of Americans in their respective armies. For the immediate future, American assistance would be limited to one division. The best estimate in London was that American troops would not be able to assume a large burden of fighting in the land war until late in 1918 or even 1919. Thus, if the Allies remained quiescent in the west, there existed the possibility that the Germans would seize the initiative and finish off Russia or Italy or both, forcing Britain to accept a peace settlement that would deprive it of much of its empire and its status as a first-class power.

First published in 1961, M Anantanarayanan's The Silver Pilgrimage, though not a well-known novel, does have a selected readership. Its author, who was born in 1907 and who died a few years back, was a judge in the Madras High Court, a connoisseur of music, and a recognized figure in the intellectual circles of Madras. He was not a writer by profession and The Silver Pilgrimage is his only novel. His father was the distinguished English and Tamil writer, A Madhavaiah, the author of books like Thillai Govindan (1908) and Clarinda (1915). The Silver Pilgrimage itself is a unique novel. Its narrative technique is a mixture of fable and fantasy, somewhat reminiscent of another neglected novelist, Sudhin Ghose. It differs from Ghose's works in that it is set in the mythical past of medieval India, though the narrative voice is thoroughly modern. The overall effect, as Harvey Breit points out in his preface, is magical:

Arun Kumar Das Gupta exercised a singular influence on the thought, research and teaching of a generation of pupils who themselves became teachers, sometimes largely owing to his example. Still more importantly, he provided a model of learning, dedication and academic probity to his students at large. Directly and indirectly, he has been a force and an inspiration throughout Bengal – indeed elsewhere in India – for the study of European literature, art and culture.

Professor Das Gupta has been critically identified with the programme of English studies evolved at Presidency College, Kolkata, above all through the efforts of Tarak Nath Sen. But more than his predecessors, he brought the fruits of that tradition to a far wider range of beneficiaries. This volume is a belated and inadequate tribute to this exceptional scholar and teacher. Practical constraints required that contributors be restricted to Professor Das Gupta's direct pupils, and that the papers relate to his dominant interest, the Renaissance.

In effect, this book is a grateful offering from a group of former pupils, all associated with Jadavpur University and most of them on its staff. Professor Das Gupta never had any formal connexion with Jadavpur: all the more reason to record his substantial impact, through his pupils teaching there, on the Jadavpur English programme, especially as regards Renaissance studies.