Rubbish called Vaastu

OUR ancestors lived in caves or mud huts. After bricks were invented, they began to build multi-storey houses. With that development came architects. They did not have any bylaws to guide them; so they used simple common sense: the kitchen should be located in a place from which smoke from the choolha does not enter the house; the lavatory should be a distance from the well so that drinking water is not contaminated; shade-giving trees should be planted on the western side to act as barriers against the summer sun’s scorching rays in the afternoon. And so on. With these eminently sensible ideas came some which made no sense at all, e.g. entrance to houses should not face southwards or be in the middle of the house. Don’t build cities which have expanse of water on their western side. So we had Vaastu Shastras by eminent sages like Varahamihira, Bhrigu, Manasara, Mayamta and others.

They became outdated with the rise of modern cities with drainage systems, multi-storey buildings with ventilators, air-conditioners and exhaust fans in kitchens and lavatories. Instead of wells, we had overhead tanks supplying water round the clock through taps. Vaastu Shastras lost all meaning except for the stupid. A large proportion of our population remains stupid beyond belief. There was N.T. Rama Rao, founder of the Telugu Desam Party and the Chief Minister of Andhra Pradesh. Besides wearing one earring and sleeping in a sari, he blew up crores of public money to have hutments on one side of his residence demolished because Vaastu pundits told him that if he had his entrance gate facing that side he would last his full term. He did not. And died a few months later.

Deve Gowda is another specimen of the same type. His Vaastu pundit advised him to have three steps instead of two at his entrance. His architect cleverly had the ground dug by half-an-inch and put a thin tile to make a third step. Last year BJP netas, not known to be forward looking, had the entrance to their office changed on the advice of their Vaastu expert. Ever since then Jayalalitha has been squeezing them where it hurts them most. Mr friend Shakuntla Masani, widow of Minoo Masani, has been living in a spacious apartment overlooking the playing fields of a school. She is unhappy because she has been told that it is Sher-mukhi — tiger-faced — and facing the wrong direction. Nothing has happened to her. My friends, the dancers Raja and Radha Reddy, changed their entrance from one side to another. They assure me that their business has looked up ever since.

The provocation for venting my spleen on Vaastu pundits who now advertise themselves in newspapers and T.V. screens comes from an article written by Arun Bhatia in The Deccan Herald sent to me by Dr P.T. Thomas of Bangalore. It is based on a lecture delivered by R.V. Kolhatkar, Professor of Architecture in the University of Hyderabad. The learned professor concedes that Vaastus compiled over 1000 years ago made some sense in conditions prevailing at that time. They make no sense whatsoever today. Nevertheless, the number of Vaastu believers has assumed an epidemic proportion. Contrary to Vaastu predictions that cities which have an expanse of water on their western side will never prosper, our most prosperous city Bombay is built with the Arabian Sea on its west. Vaastu says only rivers running west to east bring prosperity to the riparian land. All rivers of Punjab, Gujarat, Maharashtra and Kerala run north to south; these states are more prosperous than Uttar Pradesh, Bihar and West Bengal. Vaastus say that entrance doors facing south bring misfortune. The White House in Washington, which has housed a succession of American Presidents, has one main entrance: it faces south. Perhaps Vaastu pundits will wag their heads and tell us Monica Lewinsky would not have happened to President Clinton if he had put the entrance gate in another direction.

Professor Kolhatkar does not mince his words describing Vaastu is "now a social evil, a costly indulgence and quackery of the worst sort, spreading like cancer."

A writer who has been unfair

Nina is one of the brightest young ladies in our foreign service. She studied English literature and law in Delhi University and taught in Daulat Ram College before she made it to the Foreign Service in 1972. After postings in New York and Cairo, she was appointed India’s Ambassador to UNESCO in Paris. She is currently representing UNESCO at the United Nations in New York. In addition to her distinguished career as a civil servant, she married India’s top lawyer, Kapil Sibal, now a Congress Party Member of Rajya Sabha, and has two sons through him. No woman could have asked for better in life. Nina Sibal does: She wants to make her name in the writing world. She has already two books to her credit: Yatra and The Secret Life of Gujjar Mall and Other Stories. Her third book The Dogs of Justice (Ravi Dayal) has been published recently.

The bare bones of the story are as follows: Shahnaz is the daughter of an ICS officer in the service of Maharaja Hari Singh of Kashmir. She is a beautiful girl with copper coloured hair, brown eyes and a fair complexion. She is also wanton and headstrong. Agitation against Dogra rule has begun. She is packed off to Geneva to the International School to learn foreign languages. She finds lodgings in a large mansion owned by a Polish aristocrat and his Indian wife. She allows herself to be seduced by her host, and when found out, is thrown out of the house by the hostess. She returns to Srinagar and joins anti-Dogra militants.

She becomes the mistress of the leader Aslam Sheikh. Together they blow up a bridge, and with it, an aged Parsi scientist. They are nabbed. Because of her father’s position, Shahnaz is left alone; Aslam Sheikh is cruelly tortured and rendered impotent. By the time he comes out of jail, the maharaja, has fled the kingdom and Sheikh Abdullah has become ruler and war has broken out between India and Pakistan. While most of her family members go over to Pakistan, Shahnaz stays on hoping to marry Aslam. Aslam becomes an important minister in the new government and refuses to marry Shahnaz.

She discovers he already has a wife and a child. She is broken hearted. On the rebound she falls into the arms of a young, handsome Indian Army officer, Captain Ranbir Saighal. This man also has a past. While with the UN Peace Keeping Force in Cyprus, he had taken on a Cypriot Christian girl as a mistress and impregnated her. Back home he persuades the Muslim Shahnaz to become his wife. They have a daughter. Shahnaz still hankers after Aslam. They resume contact in Delhi when Aslam becomes a Judge of the Supreme Court. Captain Saighal is posted as a Military Attache to Athens. There they run into his bastard Cypriot daughter who has become a dipsomaniac. Back home he is promoted to the rank of Brigadier and posted to Jabalpur. The agitation against the Bhopal gas tragedy followed by the tribal protest against damning the Narmada river is in full swing.

Among those active is the Parsi widow of the man. Shahnaz had blown up with the bridge. Also, a feckless IAS officer whose wife is active in the anti-dam movement. Shahnaz responds to the IAS fellow’s overtures. The scene shifts to Dehra Dun where Saighal, now a General, is posted head of the Military Academy. The entire dramatis personae find themselves in Dehra Dun. The Parsi widow on assignment to report on the denudation of forests in the region, the IAS chap and Shahnaz’s daughter. Shahnaz, though now sorry for what she has done to her husband over the years continues to cuckold him. She is found in flagrante delicto in bed with her IAS lover by her husband General Saigal hangs himself. So ends the sordid tale.

The story is contrived and complicated. In it the author has pumped a lot of irrelevant information. From Kashmir we have a lot of the poetess Habba Khatoon and a contemporary bard, Mahjoor. In Greece she takes us round important historical spots and Grecian islands; in Delhi we are told about Mughal monuments. In Madhya Pradesh we are given details of the gas tragedy and the background of the Narmada dam project and the resistance to it. Dozens of new characters come into her narrative and disappear without a trace.

There is little doubt Nina Sibal can write well and when she takes the trouble to do so, she can depict scenes with poetic skill. It is equally clear that she did not devote as much time to writing this novel as she should have done. Novel-writing needs single-minded devotion; it cannot be done in spare time after office hours. Nina Sibal has been unfair to herself and her readers.

What did IKG stand for?

This happened when I.K. Gujral was our Prime Minister. A school inspector conducted a raid on the school and just to test the intelligence of the boys asked them to tell the name of the Prime Minister. As there was no response from the class, the teacher gave the students a hint by writing "IKG" on the black-board. A student raised his hands. The inspector approached him and asked him to tell the name of the Prime Minister. The student replied: "One Kilogram, Sir".

(Contributed by P.S. Ahluwalia, Batala)