ଚିତ୍ତ ବର୍ଗ ୩-୪
ପାଲି 'ଧର୍ମପଦ'ର ଓଡ଼ିଆ ପଦ୍ୟାନୁବାଦ
ଅନୁବାଦକ - ଶୈଲେନ ରାଉତରାୟ
ଫଟୋ କ୍ରେଡ଼ିଟ୍ - ୱିକିମିଡ଼ିଆ କମନ୍ସ୍ |
ଓଡ଼ିଆ ପଦ୍ୟାନୁବାଦ
ଫଟୋ କ୍ରେଡ଼ିଟ୍ - ୱିକିମିଡ଼ିଆ କମନ୍ସ୍ |
Photo credit - Wikimedia Commons |
Yes. Fungi are good to
think with. This is what I learnt by reading Michael Hathaway’s book What a Mushroom
Lives For. While I did not learn
what a mushroom lives for, not in any great detail, I did learn this.
Fungi are good to think
beyond the animal centricity of social sciences. Even when social sciences try to
escape anthropomorphism, the vision of life generally does not expand beyond
the animal kingdom. Fungi are an important part of human lifeworlds; thus, it is
important that an expanded social scientific worldview gives them their due.
Like humans, monkeys,
dogs and dolphins, fungi also learn. But what does learning mean for fungi? Terms
developed for understanding human actions, like ‘learning,’ if carelessly
extended to other species can anthropomorphize them, interpreting their actions
in exclusively human terms. On the other hand, if we make the case that no
other species other than humans can learn, explanations end up being
anthropocentric. This is not very useful in understanding other lifeforms, like
fungi, and the ways in which our own very human lives are entangled with them.
To illustrate: There
was a time when fungi did not know how to break down the woody material of
trees called “lignin”. Dead trees piled up for millions of years, and later
converted into coal and mineral oil through geological action. According to one
theory, the carbon age ended when fungi learnt how to digest lignin – one of
the more important ways fungi have shaped the world.
The lives of fungi and
plants have been entangled for a very long time. Fungi have been critical
actors in the territorial colonization of the earth by plants. Fungi helped
plants leave the oceans and colonize the continents. They also helped plants,
by creating symbiotic relationships with them, create the atmosphere and the soil
as we know these now. By disintegrating and decomposing rocks, creating soil,
and helping plants grow, they have been crucial players in making continents
inhabitable and green. Through symbiotic relationships with plants and trees,
and by making vital minerals available to them, fungi have been central in the
creation of many ecosystems such as forests. By working as super decomposers,
they also help break down the woody mass of trees into recyclable biomaterial.
Thus, like other
lifeforms such as humans, fungi also shape the world. Hathaway uses the concept,
‘world making’ to walk the razor’s edge between anthropocentrism and anthropomorphizing.
Nowhere is the usefulness of this concept more evident than in understanding
fungi as agents. Yes. Fungi are good to think with about agency. When humans
try to understand organisms like fungi, whose actions (movement and eating
other living beings) may be invisible to us, we do not necessarily see them as
active agents shaping the world. In this context, Hathaway deploys the concept
of ‘world making’ to understand the way fungi, as agentic beings, live their
lives and make the world.
Instead of looking at
the action of a single, individual fungus, Hathaway sees the work of fungi as
modes of ‘collective agency’ that made (and still make) the world as we know it
now. Thus, ‘fungi are also good to think with’ about how we understand natural
processes like evolution. If we think beyond animal centricity - with its focus
on individuals and discrete species, that thrive or perish, in a ‘struggle for
survival’ – and focus on fungi, we can grasp how close, mutually sustaining
relationships and thus cooperation (e.g., between fungi and plants), have been
integral parts of the process.
Hathaway unpacks these
questions and debates within the context of a specific species of mushroom,
matsutake, that are an important part of the culinary culture of Japan. The
demand for these mushrooms is now being met primarily through imports, especially
from the Yunnan Province of China. Matsutake mushrooms have resisted being
cultivated by humans. Hence, they must be picked where they bloom in the wild. Hathaway
explores how starting in the 1980s, the matsutake have shaped and transformed
two different communities in the province, the Yi and the Tibetans.
Yi are an ethnic
minority group, a majority of whom live in the Yunnan province, especially in
its mountainous areas. Yi have used the newly gathered wealth from the matsutake harvests (no
matter how modest by national or international standards) to finance assertions
of cultural autonomy involving usage of Yi language, holding Yi music and dance
festivals, and running restaurants serving Yi cuisine.
Tibetan communities
inhabit the highlands of the province, that are, in fact, the lowlands of the
Tibetan universe. A lifeworld built with barley and yaks, as central beings
over millennia, has now changed with the matsutake as the driver. Tibetans are
building neo-traditional houses and buying trucks with the matsutake money,
thus reclaiming their heritage as traders in the trans-Himalayan region of
Southern China.
The fact that the matsutake
degenerate fast, and the Japanese desire them fresh, has determined a large
number of the changes in the lifeworlds of these communities, which includes
the building of roads and other communication channels in the region. Thus,
fungi are good to think with, about the changing dynamics of human lifeworlds
as well.
When we (along with
Hathaway) think with fungi, we also meet scientists like Jakob Johann Freiherr
von Uexküll, who help us understand how all kinds of organisms (and not just animals)
experience and create worlds, and scholars such as Mendel Skulski, Paul Stamets
and Willoughby Arevalo, who bring a much-needed focus on fungi.
If you want to know
more about how critical fungi are to life, what matsutake mushrooms can tell us
about changing social dynamics of human communities, and how to think
creatively about some intractable and difficult questions in the human sciences
surrounding agency and action, then you could, perhaps, do nothing better than
read What a Mushroom Lives For.
Details about the book: Hathaway, M. J. 2022. What a Mushroom Lives For: Matsutake and the Worlds They Make. Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press. 270 pp. ISBN 978-0691225883.
Note: This book review was first published in the year 2023 in the journal Environment and Society 14(1).
ଜାତୀୟ ହସ୍ତଶିଳ୍ପ ମେଳା ୨୦୧୧ରେ ସାଜସଜ୍ଜା ପାଇଁ ବ୍ୟବହୃତ ଗରମପବନ ବେଲୁନ ଫଟୋ କ୍ରେଡ଼ିଟ୍ - ୱିକିମିଡିଆ କମନ୍ସ୍/ କମଳାକାନ୍ତ୭୭୭ |
ତା’ ମୁହଁଟା ଟିକେ ଅଜବ ଦିଶୁଥାଏ । ଠାକରା ଗାଲ ରାଗରେ ଜାଣିଶୁଣି ଫୁଲେଇ
ଥିଲେ ଯେମିତି ବିଚିତ୍ର ଦିଶିବା କଥା, ସେମିତି ।
ମୁଁ ପଚାରିଲି, “କେତେବେଳଠୁଁ ଆସିଲଣି ?”
“କୋଡ଼ିଏ ମିନିଟ ହେଲାଣି ।”
“କୋଡ଼ିଏ ମିନିଟ? ଏବେ ତ ପାଞ୍ଚଟା ଏଗାର
ବାଜିଚି ।”
ସେ ତା’ ଘଣ୍ଟାକୁ ଅନେଇ କହିଲା,
ଡେରି ନ ହେବା ପାଇଁ ହାତରେ ଟିକେ ସମୟ ରଖି ପହଞ୍ଚିବି ବୋଲି ଭାବିଲି । ତ ନଅ ମିନିଟି ଶୀଘ୍ର
ପହଞ୍ଚିଗଲି ।”
“ହଉ । ମୋ’ର ଏଗାର ମିନିଟ ଡେରି । ନଅ
ଯୁକ୍ତ ଏଗାର ସମାନ କୋଡ଼ିଏ । ବଢ଼ିଆ ହିସାବ ।”
“ଯା’ ହେଉ । ଆଉ କିଛି ମେଳ ଖାଉ,
ନ ଖାଉ, ତୁମର ଆଉ ମୋ’ର ଘଣ୍ଟାର ସମୟ ବେତାଳିଆ ନୁହେଁ ।”
“ତୁମକୁ ଦେଖା କରିବାକୁ ଖାଲି ଆସିଚି ଶାସ୍ତ୍ରୀ ନଗରରୁ । ବ୍ୟାଗ୍ କାହିଁକି ଆଣିବି?”
ମୁଁ ମୋ ବ୍ୟାଗ୍ରୁ ବାବା ଡହରାନନ୍ଦଙ୍କ ପ୍ରବଚନମାଳା ଖଣ୍ଡିଏ
ବାହାର କରି ତା’ ହାତକୁ ବଢ଼େଇ ଦେଲି । ସେ ଭୃଲତା ନଚେଇ ଆଖିରେ ପଚାରିଲା, “କଅଣ/କାହିଁକି” ବୋଲି ।
ମୁଁ କହିଲି, “ପ୍ରୀତି ଉପହାର ।”
ସେ କିଛି ନ କହି ପ୍ରଥମେ ମୁରୁକିହସା ଦେଲା । କିଛି ସେକେଣ୍ଡ ପରେ
କହିଲା, “ଧନ୍ୟବାଦ ।” “ଥ୍ୟାଙ୍କ ୟୁ” ନୁହେଁ, “ଧନ୍ୟବାଦ” ।
ଠିକ୍ ସେତିକି ବେଳେ କାଉଟିଏ ଆସି ଗଛର ବେଢ଼ା ଚାରିପଚେ ବୁଲିଥିବା
ପାଚେରି ଉପରେ ବସି ତିନି ଚାରି ଥର କା’ କା’ ହେଲା ଆଉ ତା’ ପରେ ଉଡ଼ି ବୋଧି ମନ୍ଦିର
ଉପରକୁ ଚାଲିଗଲା ।
ସନ୍ଦୀପ କିଛି ସମୟ ପରେ ପଚାରିଲା, “ଏମିତି ଏଠି କାହିଁକି
ଭେଟିବାକୁ ଡାକିଲ?”
“ଭଲ ଲାଗୁନି କି?”
“ନା । ବଢ଼ିଆ ଜାଗା ଯେ । ମୁଁ ଆଗରୁ ଦେଖି ନଥିଲି ।”
“ଏଇଟା ବୋଧି ବୃକ୍ଷ ।”
“ମାନେ?”
“ମାନେ ବୌଦ୍ଧ ଗୟାରେ ଯେଉଁ ଓସ୍ତ ଗଛ ତଳେ ବୁଦ୍ଧ ମହାନିର୍ବାଣ
ପ୍ରାପ୍ତ ହେଇଥିଲେ, ତା’ର ଗୋଟେ ପୁଅ ଅଛି ଶ୍ରୀଲଙ୍କାର କାଣ୍ଡିରେ । ଏଇଟା ହେଲା ତାହାର
ଛୁଆ । ମାନେ ମୂଳ ବୋଧି ଗଛର ନାତି ।”
“ଓଃ” କହି ସେ ଉଠିଗଲା ।
ଆଉ ଗଛକୁ ଛୁଇଁ ଠିଆ ଠିଆ ମୁଣ୍ଡିଆ ମାରି ମୋ’ ପାଖରେ ଫେରି ଆସି ବସିଲା । ତା’ ପରେ କଅଣ କଥା ହେଲୁ ମୋ’ର ଏବେ ଆଉ ମନେ ନାଇଁ । ବାହାରିଲା ବେଳକୁ ସେ କହିଲା, “ମତେ ଗୋଟେ ବଢ଼ିଆ ନୂଆ ଜାଗା ଦେଖେଇ ଥିବାରୁ ଧନ୍ୟବାଦ ।”
“ମୋତେ କଅଣ ମିଳିବ?”
ସେ କିଛି ନ କହି ମୋ’ ଦୁଇ ଗାଲରେ ପାଞ୍ଚଟି
ଲେଖାଏଁ ବୋକ ଦେଇ ଶେଷକୁ ଓଠରେ ଗେଲ କଲା ଥରେ ।
ତା’ ପରେ ବହି ଧରି ଉଠି ଯାଇ ମୋ’ ପଟକୁ ନ ଅନେଇ ଗେଟ୍ ଆଡ଼େ ଚାଲିବାକୁ ଲାଗିଲା । ମୁଁ କହିଲି, “ରୁହ ।” ସେ ଫେରି, ବୁଲି ମୋ’ ଆଡ଼କୁ ଚାହିଁ ଭୃଲତା ଉଠେଇଲା ।
“ଆଉ ଗୋଟେ ଗେଲ,” ମୁଁ ମାଗିଲି ।
ସେ କହିଲା, “ନା । ଯେତିକିଟା ମିଳିବା
କଥା ତା’ ମିଳି ସାରିଚି ।”
“ବୋଇଲେ ।”
“ଏଗାର ମିନିଟ ଡେରି ପାଇଁ ଏଗାରଟା ଗେଲ ।”
ମୁଁ କହିଲି, “ହଉ । ୟା ପର ଥରକ ତା’ହେଲେ ଅଧ ଘଣ୍ଟାଏ ଡେରି କରିବି, ରୁହ । ନା ଘଣ୍ଟାଏ?”
ସେ, “ଛତରା କେଉଁଠିକାର” କହି ବୁଲି ଗେଟ୍ ଆଡ଼କୁ
ଚାଲିଗଲା ।
ଏଥରକ ମୁଁ “ରୁହ” ବୋଲି ଆଉ ଥରେ କହିଲେ ବି ସେ ପଛକୁ ଫେରି ଅନେଇଲାନି । ଫାଟକ ଉପରେ କାଉଟିଏ ବସିଥାଏ । ସେ ଗଳାଫାଟକ ଫାନ୍ଦ ଫିଟେଇ, ସେପଟକୁ ଯିବା ଯାଏଁ ।
Mashani Sahara Dilli is an important book for many reasons, one of which is its sheering honesty. This Odia novel tells us stories that are marginal to the aspirational India we are supposed to inhabit these days. These are narrated from the vantage point of Anurag, a Government of Odisha officer who is now posted in Delhi for work. He lives alone in the city (we do not know where his family lives, the novel is mostly silent about it) and explores Delhi primarily through his interactions with its subaltern characters. One of the first persons he seeks out is Ramdulal, an elderly Dalit shoe repair person, who has a stall not far from where Anurag lives.
Over his stay in Delhi, Anurag becomes friends with Ramdulal, visits his stall even when he does not have any work to share cups of tea, sometimes visiting Ramdulal’s home in Sarita Vihar which he shares with his children, his wife being there no more. Over the course of his acquaintance with Ramdulal, Anurag gets to know of his decades long struggle to get a foothold in Delhi, after leaving his village in UP’s Rae Barely district. After spending nearly five decades in the city, he has finally put down roots in Delhi. His son works as a mechanic. His daughter takes care of the house and the household.
Ramdulal’s story provides the backbone to the structure of the novel, albeit a makeshift one. Through multiple visits, Anurag gets his life story out for us, one episode at a time. This story is perhaps, unfortunately, a common one. A Dalit adolescent orphaned by the murder of his father by upper caste men over a trivial matter, Ramdulal suddenly has to fend for himself after his mother also dies of the shock. Finding it difficult to make a living as a shoeshine boy working in trains, while living in the home of his maternal uncle, he leaves for Delhi where over a period of time he finds community and family.
Through Ram Dulal’s story, the novel also provides a micro history of the slum areas of Sarita Vihar locality, where after his first few explorations in the city, Ramdulal settles down. He finds a mentor in Chandulal, who helps him clear a plot of land and put down roots. Around the same time, Ramdulal falls in love with Chhabeli, an orphaned Dalit girl who works as a sweeper in the road on which Ramdulal has a stall, and they decide to become man and wife.
Through descriptions of the visits that Anurag makes to the Sarita Vihar slums, we get a sense of the ethnographic history of this area. Around half a century back, the area was almost a jungle through which a stream flowed. Dalits and Muslims first settled in the area, slowly cleared the forest, bearing the brunt of wild beasts such as the boars who roamed the place and often attacked people.
This ethnographic eye is visible when Anurag describes other encounters as well. On a park he comes in contact with a group of young and middle-aged plumbers from Kendrapada with whom he becomes pally. He also gets to know a community belonging to a caste known as ‘Ganaa’ from Western Odisha, who started migrating to Delhi from the time the British shifted the capital to the city in 1911. We also come to know of other aspects of micro communities such as the living conditions of those inhabiting the servant quarters of bureaucrats on rent and the festivities of the Nepali community in his neighborhood.
But all through this, the story that acts as the backbone of the novel is that of Ramdulal. We get to hear of Ramdulal’s history from multiple vantage points. Sometimes the point of view is that of Anurag whose telling occasionally slips into that of the omniscient third person narrator. On other occasions we hear the narrative as a first person account from Ramdulal himself, which suddenly gives it an intimacy and immediacy we often encounter in Dalit autobiographies.
Through the reactions that Ramdulal’s story produces in Anurag we get to know that Anurag is himself Dalit, who often encountered discrimination in school in his village as a student. The same experiences continue in his office in Delhi now, where casteist colleagues often disparage him because of his jati background and create difficult conditions at work.
As a Dalit who is conscious of structures of oppression, Anurag is often impatient of the apparently simple minded Ramdulal who believes in gods and goddesses and visits the local temple regularly, which seems to be the center of sociality in the area, anchored by an orthodox priest. But through a process of continuous engagement, Anurag and Ramdulal come to know each other’s lifeworlds and motivations better.
This book is perhaps autobiographical in nature, at least in parts. Basudev Sunani, the author, was posted in Delhi for a few years (as he mentions in the dedication of the novel to his wife ‘Sanu’), like Anurag, the protagonist. The latter’s voice seems substantively identifiable with that of the author himself. He often comes to stand in for the author.
We see Delhi through Anurag’s eyes. The only reason why a character is introduced in the novel is because Anurag comes across him in Delhi. Therefore, this enforces a certain episodic nature on the narration. This has perhaps led to the division of the book into chapters with titles. Despite this, however, the book can feel meandering at times. This has perhaps more to do with ineffective editing than any structural reasons.
Nonetheless, the novel does manage to hold one’s interest all throughout and is an engaging read. This has to do with the natures of the stories themselves for which the novel acts as a vessel. My biggest quibble is with the title itself, which literally means ‘Delhi – The Graveyard City.’ Perhaps it was better titled as ‘Delhi – The City of Rebirth,’ as it is filled with stories of grit, survival and flourishing against great odds, stories that only an urban space like Delhi seems to make possible.
Bibliographic Details: Basudev Sunani. 2020. Mashani Sahara Delhi. Bhubaneswar: Vishwamukti Publications. 384 Pages. Rs. 450. [Cover by Jayant Parmar].
Note: This piece was first published with the title ‘Migrants and Micro-Communities’ in The Book Review 46 (7).
ଫଟୋ କ୍ରେଡ଼ିଟ୍ - ୱିକିମିଡିଆ କମନ୍ସ୍ |
The world Ramakanta Samantaray Translated by Sailen Routray Photo credit: A. R. Vasavi I have cut you into tiny pieces with the sharp sword ...