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Happy Wife, Happy Life!

In the spate of buying a new home in the US, and renovating and decorating it,  I have heard one phrase all too often, consistently, without fail, over the course of the last five years. No, its not to do with HGTV, Magnolia Homes and flipping or flopping! Do not take your guess in that direction at all! Wherever we went as a couple and asked questions about a certain a product or plan, we were given detailed descriptions and instructions, which would all finally end in the expert saying: "let your wife choose." "Go for what she likes." "She is the better half." "She knows all." "Happy wife, happy life!" I would giggle or chuckle, my husband would laugh big and we would leave, only to meet another person concluding their enlightening remarks on home construction, decor, kitchen design, bathroom vanities and the like with, well, you know what. I would giggle so as to not wholly embarrass the person who thought he was cracking a joke...
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The moral preoccupations of the young adult

In 2017, I was a panelist at a day-long symposium on Comparative Literature in the 21st century at Jain University in Bangalore . I was glad to share space with Ipshita Chanda and E V Ramakrishnan, both scholars I had met in different conferences over the course of the decade I spent as an academic in India. Chanda is now at EFLU, the place where I did my Masters. And EVR is a star in the field of Comparative Literature. These scholars, along with the illustrious and industrious Mythili Rao made for wonderful intellectual company. My own presentation was on Digital Humanities. The question-answer session was quite charged and one of the questions I fielded was on Rupi Kaur. I had not read her at that point of time but had read the plagiarism controversy she had gotten herself into. One of the students asked us about how we viewed Rupi Kaur who writes beautifully but was accused of plagiarism. My answer was 1) that in the west, things are very straightforward and unlike in India, the...
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Two Dalit Poems in translation

My Poem My poems do not narrate a story, And don’t intend falling into the spaces and triads of music. To the rhythms of tunes, rhymes, drums, - they don’t respond. They contain no deceit, no pre-meditated device With no fascination to lure scholar or saint. The seductions of the ecstasies of the thoughts of the powerful are not hailed in my poetry All the historically created light is paleness for me… my senses don’t bloom to their metaphors of the first rains etc. My poems do not encourage those pretenses of the clothed bodies Life tells… it exposes the rhythms of life’s cruel denials. From the toiling bodies of my people my poetry spills forth sounds …cries of new life. Indudhara Honnapura (Kannada Dalit thinker and writer) Trans: Sushumna Kannan ‘Aa’ ‘aa’ and When I opened my eyes and moved my limbs: in the dark caves of my avva’s eyes burned the hearth. Surrendering his dark body to fire appa breathed a modest beedi while the gruel on the h...
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