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Bring on the Kolaveri Di!

Posted in Elsewhere by admin
Nov 30 2011
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If ever more evidence was needed about the hit status of the Tanglish rap number “Why this kolaveri di”, it arrived in this morning’s newspapers in the shape of the Amul ad, “Khalo everyday”. Already the most-searched Youtube video in India, millions of hits since mid-November when the song went viral on Facebook and other sites, it has gained a Wikipedia entry and mentions even in otherwise ponderous business newspapers. What can explain the instant appeal of the folk-songsy lilt and almost meaningless lyrics in Tamil-English of yet another song about “love failure”, they wonder. Even musical director/composer Anirudh Ravichander (also the musical producer), film director Aishwarya Dhanush and singer Dhanush have been somewhat befuddled by the runaway success of the song even before the film, “3” has been released. The song might have come up in only 20 minutes, but classical musicians, not to be left behind, have come up with their own Carnatic version, apparently over an hour .

It’s the first Tamil film song to play on MTV India, and was aired on BBC radio 10 days after its release on 16th November. And this Tamil song about rejected lovers has also provoked spoofs about the India-Pakistan relationship. While we have to wait for the EPW and Seminar analysts to intellectualise the phenomenon, may we hope that it is a fitting challenge to the Bollywoodization of Southasia?

(Laxmi Murthy)

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In pursuit of hits

Posted in Archives by admin
Nov 24 2011
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By Prabhat Shrestha

Today historical documents,  from heart-rending pictures of survivors and victims of the Holocaust, to ancient literary manuscripts, are just a few clicks away. New partnerships are permitting a leap beyond the last frontier of information: now, even archival material will be available through a Google search. This accessibility also benefits the archive owners: through the Google Cultural Institute , they not only have a suitable platform to digitize their archival holdings, but also allows access to a larger audience. The Israel Museum, for instance, brought in a million visitors in its first year since reopening; it only took its website three and a half days to get that many hits.

With technology bringing the past and the present together, historic scrolls and documents in museums and universities all over the world are being digitized and uploaded to the Internet. While this comes with advantages like easier access, preservation and more visitors, issues like copyright, ownership, distribution and the profit-making inclinations of the corporate world forcefully come to the fore. The future for digitization is bright with its immense potential for mass dissemination of knowledge and thereby, increased interest of the lay person in historic relics. However, the potential pitfalls – which include legal concerns, ownership issues, and nationalist sensibilities – still pose a threat.

Google, in collaboration with institutions around the world, is leading this phenomenon of private funding for digitization of public material with its newly launched Google Cultural Institute. It has already launched the high-resolution images of the scrolls at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem and has plans to venture into other similar project. It is currently expanding activities in Europe: the Institute features a sprawling new headquarters in Paris, and has partnerships with the Palace of Versailles and the Nelson Mandela Foundation. As highlighted by this NY Times/International Herald Tribune article , this is a small part of the work by Google and many other foundations, including Connecticut’s Watertown Historical Society and Ancestry.com’s work to expand public access to historical material stored in museums and libraries around the world. Examples of digitization efforts in Southasia include work by the South Asia Research Foundation and the Indian Association for Women’s Studies, among other groups.

All these advantages however, come with risks. The extent to which a profit-driven mandate will affect the nascent alliance between the corporate and intellectual world is yet to unfold. Also, reinforced by years of disregard of culture by the business world, museum curators and history experts still don’t trust the companies to not look for profit by compromising the noble cause of the program. These two parties must be reconciled for the relation to be fruitful

Finally, issues of intellectual rights, ownership and the copying of archival content should be addressed before any large-scale digital archiving takes place. The ownership of the archives in most cases is a grey area. Digitizing archival material without a proper demarcation of ownership may lead to drawn out lawsuits that could hurt the project down the line. Another important issue to resolve is that of ownership of digital content, and subsequently, permission to copy it. While access should be as open as possible, unrestricted copying can lead to abuse of archives. Finding the right balance between access and protection is critical.

As with any other advancement in technology, this new trend of digitization can be used for significant improvement in the preservation of historic relics. It can also be a medium to spread historic knowledge. However, the dangers of inadequate discussions among all the people involved and hasty decisions are still great. So an enthusiastic yet cautious approach will be the best way to move forward.

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Of Backs and Beetles in Pakistan

Posted in Elsewhere by admin
Nov 17 2011
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Update on the beetle journey!

The Spinal Beetle is currently in Pakistan. Earlier this week, the travellers and car took a break in Islamabad to speak with folks at Safma (the South Asian Free Media Association). Kanak’s talk focused on the Spinal Beetle Rally as a strike for ‘land connectivity’, emphasizing that only over-land transport would ensure and allow a high volume of people-to-people interactions over existing borders. Such interactions are the foundation of a more prosperous and peaceful Southasia.

Kanak pointed out that many of the impediments to a more peaceful Southasia rest in the northern stretches of the region.  If we make it more possible for people to connect up here, his words suggests, we would ease tensions in a trickle-down (or trickle-up) fashion.

Southasia is not always all seven – or eight, or nine – countries of the region, either as listed by SAARC or otherwise. As we at Hri understand it, imagining “Southasia” really means envisioning a future where politics are shaped by people on the ground, as opposed to politicians alone. Somewhat counterintuitively, thinking regionally affords us a way of thinking locally. Instead of insisting that our centres be Delhi, Kathmandu or Dhaka, thinking in terms of “Southasia” changes the emphasis to communities, particularly those separated by borders –or even those that are not physically contiguous. Southasia lies in the space between capitals and governments. Whether the exchanges, ideas, or products born of these places are labeled Southasian is not that significant. What matters is that such transfers are at the very least permitted to occur.

An extensive piece in Pakistan’s Dawn performed one of the very functions the Beetle-ers had hoped for – raising awareness around spinal injury in the places they visited, by calling attention to specific and local situations and then drawing out possible regional connections in terms of solutions.  The Tribune also commented on the potential for cooperation, noting that while Nepal has seen many incidents of spinal injury come about through accidents, many such recent injuries in Pakistan have been the result of earthquakes.

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Mediatic creations

Posted in Elsewhere by admin
Nov 14 2011
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The journey began exactly ten days ago. The Spinal Beetle (aka the Little Blue Bug) set out from Kathmandu, sent off by Nepal’s President Ram Baran Yadav himself. The plan? A 12-day trip to Peshawar’s Paraplegic Centre via the Indian Spinal Injuries Centre in Delhi and Lahore’s Mayo Hospital. Given that the region features borders known more for their barbed wire and armed guards than welcome bands, this trip was about more than just sight-seeing. This particular road trip has two ambitious goals: to raise funds for the Spinal Injury Rehabilitation Centre in Nepal, while emphasising the need for accessible routes through Southasia, over land.

Reports from the driver and passengers indicate that the trip is going well, with new friendships and funds emerging en route. Media reports have been positive, if at times (unintentionally) amusing: two weeks ago, The Hindu wrote about the “yatra”, accidentally turning Kanak Dixit (the driver) into a paraplegic. Yesterday, Pakistan’s Nation gave welcome news of Mayo Hospital’s offer of two fellowships to Nepali doctors per year, to study rehabilitation – but meanwhile, repeatedly called Kanak (journalist, editor-in-chief of Himal Southasian, chair of Hri’s board, and multitasker – but not a medical man) — Dr. Dixit. A swift transformation indeed, from paraplegic to physician!

Meanwhile,  a few images from the trip:

Two Nepali drivers in front of the Agra Fort

At his request, earth being dug up from Sialkot, Pakistan for 96-year-old Barkat Singh 'Pahalwan' of Jalandar, India

One meeting point

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The Archives: Day Zero

Posted in Archives, Elsewhere by admin
Nov 10 2011
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By: Nishant Batsha

When asked to write about my experiences in the archive, my mind ambled back towards that first day – that first breath of the stale, air-conditioned air of the National Archives of India. Of course, every history has its pre-history; before I could breathe in that de-humidified air, I needed to establish myself as some sort of scholar. I wish I could say that this transformation from student to researcher had, couched within its metamorphosis, some celebration of academic liminality. Instead, it was more akin to a check-list of administrative banality.

Did I have my letter of introduction from my department? (Tucked into a folder in my laptop bag) Photocopies of my OCI card and passport? Passport photos? After a week of traversing the scorching Delhi heat (this was June, after all), and ensuring that all my paperwork was in order, I was ready to enter.

An explosion of gesticulations and loud, snappy quips with auto-wallahs followed. “Archives, archives, yeh archives kya hai?” (Archives, archive, what are these archives?) They doubted the veracity of the archives as a Real Place – something I now take as a refreshing reminder that the archives may not have been as hallowed as I thought. After one shrugged his shoulders and mumbled something about a fare being a fare, I finally arrived in Janpath. I registered myself with the archivist. I put everything I had – minus my laptop – in a locker. I situated myself in the reading room.

And I had one clear thought: “Shit.”

I entered a room with two rows of maybe fourteen desks with perhaps twelve eyes behind them (all trained on me – who’s the new guy?). Sweat was already trickling down my back from the 41-degrees-celsius-plus-humidity outside, so thankfully no one could notice the cortisol-induced beads that joined in. The walls were lined with short bookshelves containing hard-bound indexes, organized by department. Each volume referenced a document that an archivist could fetch from the building above. I grabbed an index at random. Home Department. What the hell was the Home Department? What did it have to do with my search? How was all of this organized?

Where was the newest computer? I needed a digitized database to search. I would have even settled for the Dewey Decimal System or at least open stacks – anything that would seem remotely familiar. Panic settled in relatively quickly after this. What was I doing here? I clearly had no idea what to do. Perhaps I should have listened to my parents – training to operate on brains would be easier than this, right? Right?

Misery may thrive on Company, but I have a feeling it tends to simply seek out Reassurance. I would have been comforted by the reality that most, if not all, historians feel this kind of archive-induced sense of inadequacy. Nicholas Dirks, an eminent historian (and full disclosure, one of my academic advisors), wrote, “the first time I entered the archive, I panicked. My historical zeal inexplicably vanished as I desperately stemmed a welling desire to exit immediately and search for the nearest pub.” (I suppose Misery may also love Alcohol.) The question-mark of unfamiliar organization too hung over his head: “I tried to imagine which index to consult, what department to decipher, how best to control the chaos of what seemed an infinite chain of documents.”

In the end, I wasn’t going to turn around and go home (I couldn’t, my return ticket wasn’t for another month-and-a-half). Stockholm Syndrome flooded my nerves: it was time to open one of these large, heavy tomes. And after a few hours, I finally had a list of documents that seemed somewhat interesting and maybe even appropriate for my research. I filled out the requisition slips and walked over to the archivist. As I placed it them in the inbox, he looked up:

“The last requisition for the day was at 2:00. It’s now two-fifteen. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow after 9:00 to receive these documents.”

The feeling that I sought – that of history sitting in my hands – would have to wait.

[For those interested in the Nicholas Dirks essay quoted above, see: “Annals of the Archive: Ethnographic Notes on the Sources of History” in Brian Keith Axel, ed., From the Margins: Historical Anthropology and Its Futures (Duke University Press, 2002). And for another take  on the National Archives of India, see the 'Delhi Walla's' account.]

Nishant Batsha (http://nishantb.tumblr.com) is a perennial student and sometimes writer. He divides his time between being a graduate student in history and attempting to write creatively.

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