Reviews of the latest books from and on Southasia

Nine Decades of Marxism in the Land of Brahminism
by S K Biswas
Other Books, Calcutta, 2008

With chapters titled 'Beware of Manuwadi Marxists', 'No Revolution Possible in India', 'Can a Brahmin be a Marxist Leader' and 'Communists rescued Hinduism', Biswas provides a pithy and provocative history of the communist movement in India, with a focus on Bengal. Right from M N Roy's founding of the Communist Party of India in Tashkent in 1920, the politburo has had a largely upper-caste composition, which has been inimical to the interests of the masses, the Dalit-Bahujan, he says. Caste struggle, as B R Ambedkar pointed out, was never part of the class struggle, because in the caste socioeconomic structure, there is no scope for social mobility, and therefore no possibility of changing one's caste. An interesting discussion on 'de-casteing', as opposed to de-classing, establishes the impossibility of the project in a movement dominated by the Brahmin Marxists who actively resist social change. Declaring that, "Liberty cannot be gained as the merciful alms from the oppressors or usurpers," Ambedkar strategically and on principle did not ally with what he termed "Brahminical political parties". Yet case studies of Bengal, Kerala and Tripura, while packed with information and establishing that upper-caste superiority is undiminished despite decades of Communist rule, do not give the impression that the Dalit-Bahujan are any worse off here than any of the non-communist ruled states. Unfortunately, convoluted writing, execrable editing and appalling proofing detract from this otherwise valuable contribution to the examination of the democratic and libratory potential of Marxism in a caste-ridden society. (Laxmi Murthy)

The Green Pen: Environmental journalism in India and South Asia
edited by Keya Acharya & Federick Noronha
Sage, 2010

Even at a time when the environment is a sexy topic, The Green Pen is decidedly unglamorous. Paying no lip-service to hip phrases such as 'going green' or reducing one's 'carbon footprint', the book focuses instead on the growing disconnect between people and their surroundings. The compilation draws connections between the environment and a range of ten broad issues (health, water, gender, etc), with a focus on the ham-handed and often cursory media coverage of these. Fortunately, the critical lens is largely turned inward, rather than merely heaping the blame on the 'profit-driven' media. Pointing to the trend of stories parroting press releases, covering issues that have a large lobby (why does the tiger gets so many columns while the Namdapha flying squirrel, an even more endangered animal, gets almost none?), and overall sloppy or non-existent on-the-ground fact-collection, the pieces lay much of the onus on individual journalists. "Till the lions have their historians," Lyla Bavadam writes in the anchor piece, "tales of hunting will always glorify the hunter." (Surabhi Pudasaini)

Borders, Histories, Existences: Gender and beyond
by Paula Banerjee
Sage, 2010

Along with the histories of borders themselves, Banerjee here provides a narrative of the histories of peoples inhabiting the borderlands along the frontiers, both disputed and otherwise, between the nations of India, Pakistan and China. Considering the disproportionate burdens borne by women in these frontiers, the book is structured around their often fascinating stories. In addition, Banerjee also takes a step back to explore such seemingly everyday terms as border, boundary and frontier, in an attempt to understand how these came into being, and the ramifications of those origins. Banerjee's methods of description and analysis of the stories of women and several other marginalised groups along in the borderlands offer a necessary, and often ignored, viewpoint on these people and areas. (Natasha Kafle)

Himalayan Wonderland: Travels in Lahaul and Spiti
by Manohar Singh Gill
Viking, 2010

As quaint as a stiff rum and a pipe of Golden Cavendish with the boys after a long day's trek, Gill's early-1960s ramble about his rambles as a deputy district administrator in the northern Himachal valleys of Lahaul and Spiti is part gently condescending anthropological study and part wide-eyed bildungsroman by a young mountain-loving IAS officer giddy at his luck and ready to conquer the high country. As the first civilian accepted to the Nehru-created Himalayan Mountain Institute in Darjeeling, where he was tutored by Tenzing Norgay himself, Gill could technically be said to have had the chops (and calves) required for the job. But what really got him through the long winter of 1962-63 seemed to be what reads today as an amiably anachronistic Raj-era joviality, in which local girls are 'lasses' and 'beauties'; chhaang beer is the first order of the day and the last order of the evening; the high-alpine sun will always set up a "brilliant day, clear blue sky and lovely warm sunshine", for which Gill will be sure to be "up and ready by ten in the morning"; and there is always a celebratory Kipling or Tennyson quote that is just right for the spirit of the moment. Perhaps most odd about the book, once a reader gets past the forewords by both Indira and Sonia Gandhi (the latter for this new reprint), is how little there is to foreshadow the high-flying career that Gill would go on to have – other than, perhaps, the clear joie de vivre that the young civil servant clearly finds in exploring his own country.

Regardless, other than as a refresher course in how corpses can tend to get up and dance (rolance, in the seemingly everyday Tibetan term), or as a motivator to get out into the hills and stop reading tepid books, the jewel in this sweet but unimportant memoir comes hidden away in a random footnote, of all things. "The Gaddi [shepherds] have to live their entire lives in the high mountains with their sheep flocks," Gill writes. "[I]n the winters, they have to come down the snowy slopes. They are great experts at glissading. They form human trains, with the elders in front, and the women and children in the middle, all holding on to each other. In this manner, they go glissading down all grades of slopes … There is excitement and even danger in this, for one can always shoot over a cliff edge, if careless. But the Gaddis do not worry." And neither does Gill: footnote done, he continues on to other vistas. (Carey L Biron)